A Darker Journey by XP

Writer: XP

Subject: A Darker Journey

Link: LS666 Emails / 14.02.2024

A Darker Journey

GarySix: XP, have you ever written about your journey from Christianity to Lucifer? Many of us would like to know.

XP: I’m not so sure it’s that interesting …. My dark journey began at eleven years old. I had rejected God and Christ, as early as “Sunday School” — as I thought it was more fun at that age to worship the devil and masturbate to fantasies involving the black mass, ritual rape, ceremonial bestiality, lots of sodomy with young boys my age, “cock god” worship, piss, scat, and sex with demons … Is there a story there?

GarySix: WOW — Sounds damned interesting to me and I’m sure, others.

XP: Hmmm … I’m such a ham! Cannot refuse a challenge. Let me write something about this …

LET’S GO BACK … WAY, WAY, WAY BACK

It all started when I was just a small kid. A preteen. I was tiny and the youngest in my school year (as my birthday was in August and the your began in September). Some of the boys were almost a year older and at eleven, that makes a huge difference.

I grow up in the South-East of London. Suburbia. I lived with my middle-class family in a two-story semi-detached house. I had one younger sister. My bedroom was small, but it was my own space with a small bay window on the upper floor that looked out onto the street below.

I was quite a very creative kid from an early age. I used to draw a lot — I mean, like, all the time, for hours and hours. I would frequently lean on the wide ledge of the bay window and draw in my sketchbook.

I had a rather overactive imagination. Back then, there was no such thing as ADHD, as such. You were just a naughty kid then. I also had a history of being a very bad sleeper. Nightmares. Lots of nightmares. Almost every night. Even a bout of bed-wetting. I would insist on leaving my bedroom door wide open so that my bedroom would be lit by the hallway light all night.

My family used to send me to Sunday school at the local church that was opposite my school. I would sit cross-legged as my attentive Sunday school teacher would tell us all about God Almighty, Jesus Christ, and the Virgin Mary. There were many fables from the Bible, always with a meaning behind them all. It was an early indoctrination in all that was religious and righteous. We sang hymns together. We said “The Lord’s Prayer”. We learned the meaning of the Ten Commandments.

I found the story of Adam and Eve and the “Garden of Eden” particularly interesting. Maybe it was the wicked serpent that caught my attention. Something about tempting Eve with the delicious fruit … “The Apple of Carnal Knowledge”. Then, how they suddenly realized their nakedness. It was always about doing bad things, which meant punishment by God. He was a rather cruel guy. I didn’t like this God character.

We were particularly told to be careful about temptation, otherwise we would fall victim to the Devil Incarnate. It made “Temptation” sound far more interesting. The Devil seemed to inspire wickedness. He was always up to mischief. He had demons, monsters, and evil creatures that did his bidding.

The fear of these evil things began to grow inside me.

xxxxx

My nightmares only got worse, even though I prayed to God, and said “The Lord’s Prayer” every night before bed. Now, I wasn’t really outwardly bad but I wasn’t good either. So, despite my fear of God’s wrath (and what retaliation he would have for my frequent wayward thoughts), I found a strange interest in these dark things.

It started with a fascination with tribalism. Strange phallic idols. Human sacrifices. Cannibalism. Rituals. Those dog-eared copies of National Geographic (that my father kept on a shelf in my bedroom), were full of images of strange naked natives. Black people. Men and women, with spears, bizarre body modifications, and ritually-scared breasts.

These savages worshiped evil-looking gods, made of wood, teeth, and human bones. Unlike Adam and Eve, they all seemed to be fully aware of their nakedness — it was part of their culture. They were unafraid of their “gods” who seemed to have no problem with their nudity.

It gave me a cheap thrill and surprisingly a throbbing erection.

I liked looking at these rather sinister black-and-white images and they stroked my imagination about their evil gods … more like demons and devils … soon, I found that the very things I feared in the night … seemed to excite me the most.

Instead of being afraid of the darkness — for the first time — I closed my bedroom door with all the lights out. In the ensuing darkness there seemed to be a kind of strange energy. It was electric. I welcomed these bizarre feelings and sensations that centered in my groin.

Removing my flannelette pajamas. I got into bed naked. Under the covers, I just squeezed my hard little eleven-year-old cock, as hard as I could, as I imagined performing those native rituals, with other young boys, all about the same age as me. We were all small, thin, hairless, and effeminate (like me). We would all be sexually excited. We squeezed our little erect cocks, as we danced naked in the steamy jungle, cavorting around our huge phallic effigy (of our evil Cock God) to the sound of the pounding African voodoo drums.

I pulled back the bed covers as if I was revealing myself to the demons of the dark — at this point, I hadn’t discovered masturbation — but my squeezing became rubbing, and my rubbing became more vigorous. My evil little tribal fantasy continued to unfolded. My head was filled with thoughts of boys frotting their cocks together and performing fellatio on each other. The intensity of my arousal grew to the point where I began to shake all over … there was a sharp spike of exhilaration that shook me from my head to my toes. It was uncontrollable. Like  a power electric shock. Suddenly, white stuff squirted in copious quantities from my tiny little cock-head.

“Oh! FUUUUUUUUUCK!”

The extreme sensation was my very first orgasm. It just overtook me, completely. I collapsed back on my bed. My breathing was hard, shallow, and heavy. I was covered in my semen.

This must be a bad thing that I had done. A very bad thing. A wicked thing. Oh, no, please forgive me. God Almighty would have seen me doing it too. He would have seen me touching myself and making myself ejaculate. I immediately promised God that I would never do it again. I was ashamed of myself … I had been tempted by forces beyond me (I told myself) … It must have been the darkness … I would repent and ask for forgiveness at the next church service.

xxxxx

But of course, I lied to myself.

The next night, I couldn’t wait to do it all again.

I’d been erect all day, just thinking about it. I had been hiding my little hard pecker under my school books. On the way home from school, my little penis tented my school shorts, the rough fabric rubbed against my cock-head through my underpants, stimulating me more as I walked briskly home — I just couldn’t stop thinking about the demons hidden in the darkness that made me so excited the night before.

After dinner, I quickly excused myself. I needed an early bed, I told my mom and dad. Once I closed the door. The feeling inside my tiny body was overwhelming. My cock was already leaking with clear fluids. So, laying completely naked on top of my bed covers in the darkness, I started very much as I had done the night before — without the squeezing — and began fucking my fist as fast as I could. I could hear the exotic tribal beat in my head as it built towards a crescendo. There were phallic serpents (the Devil from the Garden of Eden) coiled around our huge cock-like idols. I was one of many naked dancers. We were all masturbating furiously, awaiting to squirt their cum over our evil cock idol.

In my immature little mind, I fantasied about tying a young helpless boy between two phallic poles — he was still flaccid — a tell-tale sign that he wasn’t one of us, not one of the devil worshipers. The boy struggled to get free, but the bindings held fast as the insanely wild native beat seemed to drive us all into a frenzy of perverted lust.

“Hail, Cock God” …

A snarling young boy grabbed his limp cock and pulled it painfully. I grabbed the boy’s hips from behind and began to push my little fuck-stick against his brown flower.

“Rape him” …

I pressed my hips forward and my cock began to penetrate him. As I began to sodomize him, he screamed in agony — I fucked him hard and then I bucked vigorously, out of control, shooting my cum deep into his bowels.

Only, I didn’t ejaculate inside of anyone — my cum spurted over myself — some of the semen sprayed over my face. I licked my lips and tasted it for the first time. It didn’t taste so bad, so I licked it up, all of it … as an offering to the spirits of the darkness — my cum demons!

xxxxx

As I mentioned, I was rather creative. Soon after this, I recorded some African drumming from a television show. I recorded it on my small cassette player (so I could play it secretly in my bedroom when nobody was around). I had drawn a large image of my tribal idol — a horned demon with a huge erect cock — I would kneel before it and pray as I rubbed myself into solo oblivion. Yes, it was my Cock God. And masturbation, cock sucking, sodomy, and cum eating were all part of paying homage to these dark spirits of pervert sex.

The more I thought about religious things, the more I wanted to worship Cock God. I wanted to suck cock, I wanted to put my cock inside other boys’ rectums. Sometimes, I simply couldn’t wait until nighttime to masturbate, so I would pretend to take a bath. Back in those days, we had a bath (not an actual shower). There was, however a shower head that could be hand-held.

So, I used the water pressure to spray directly onto my little boy’s cock-head. I found it very stimulating. The more powerful the spray, the more intense the feeling — suddenly without warning, I found myself pissing. My yellow sprayed uncontrollably from my erect cock. I pointed my little hard pecker upwards so that my piss sprayed over myself. It was a very strange sensation — but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

I began to incorporate pissing into the sketches of my dark rituals. I specially used a “yellow” colored pencil, to illustrate their pissing hard cocks. There were boys fucking boys, cock sucking imitations, raping of bound victims, sodomizing of the non-believers … and lots and lots of pissing. Yes. I really dug pissing. I even ventured into drawings of boys (with little horns on their heads) shitting in each other’s mouths and having sex with animals (especially snakes and horses).

I hid my filthy, cum drenched sketchbooks in the space beneath my set of draws. Nobody would ever find them hidden there. I would take out the bottom drawer to access my secret stash. I’d filled an entire book with my demented sketches. I even used my piss, for use in my watercolor drawings. Some of the pages were buckled and heavily stained and even smelt of masturbation. This was my devil’s Bible, I told myself.

xxxxx

A chance comment from a young school friend introduced me to the idea of hermaphroditism. They thought it funny. I thought it was one of the most erotic thoughts I’d ever heard of. The thought of the twin-sex goddess with both cock and cunt became my new fetish. It spawned a whole new line of thinking. The Cock Goddess was born in my mind. She was beautiful and feminine. She had lovely small, pert breasts and erect nipples — but between her legs, throbbed an evil hard cock — I drew image after image of her. Her cock was so large, she could self-suck. She reminded me of the India Goddess, Kali. I even drew her with multiple arms. Sometimes she was lily white, sometimes black as coal … all the time she was masturbating and pissing over her naked devotees.

In the bathroom, my rituals had begun to include filling my bladder to the point of almost bursting. It hurt just holding it in. I would drink lots of cordial. Sometimes, I would drink a fizzy vitamin pill, as it made my piss turn bright yellow and very smelly. When I could no longer hold it, I would quickly disappear into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.

Once naked, I would climb into the bath. There was a full-length mirror that stretched across the entire length of the bath. And standing in the bath, I had a full view of myself. Naked, hard, and eager to urinate. Though I had started by using the hand spray to make me piss, I found that I no longer needed to do it that way and could urinate with a full erection, even as I masturbated. So, as I began to rub my stiff little cock, my bladder would hurt from its ripeness. Sometimes I let a little dribble of hot, salt pee flow onto my fingers. I rubbed it over myself, enjoying the nasty piss smell. Sometimes I managed to tease myself, like this for a while. Most times, I was just too excited and just pissed in the air, over my chest and into my mouth. I was a piss drinker! Yes! Hail the Cock Goddess. Hail the Piss Goddess.

xxxxx

When my folks were not around, my rituals became a little more elaborate. I would put on my little cassette player. The thumping tribal beat always got my heart beating fast. I would dance, thrusting my childish hips back and forth, rubbing my piss-wet as my ritual of self-urination got into full swing. I’d hang up the images from my sketchbook like effigies to be worshipped. Often I dribbled my piss over the pages, so I could smell them later in my bedroom. I would not only soak myself in my piss as I masturbated and watched myself in the mirror, but I would also capture it in one of my mother’s expensive crystal-cut wines glass, so I could drink it down, like the devil’s sacrament, just at the last moment, as I cum hard all over the mirror.

I became addicted to this bizarre behavior. The smell of the foul yellow urine on my skin drove me crazy. I began to do this outside the bathroom. I loved the idea of pissing over my fingers in bed at night, or even wetting the bed, or pissing into a glass. I would pray to my evil Piss Goddess, drinking it in the darkness or under the light of the full moon. There were times that I wore white underwear. I had a collection of Halloween masks that I wore, one with horns that made me look like a little devil. I began to prance around, as I pissed into the thin material. My underwear started to change color .. then turned almost transparent. I rubbed my little boy cock through the drenched fabric as I watched myself in the mirror, imagining it wasn’t me but my perverted demon lover. Removing the piss-wet garment, I would rub it over my face and chest, then suck the urine from it as I masturbated furiously.

Discovering the sensitivity of my tight, little anus, led to me putting all kinds of household objects inside my bottom. Hairbrush handles, toothbrush handles, and carrots (that I carved to the right shape). l anything long, straight, and not too thick. I found that anal fun could increase the intensity of my piss-soaked orgasms. I’d thought many times about being the perpetrator of anal sex, but never the one to be anally penetrated. I could imagine a chain of young boys, just like me … my cock would be fucking a boy in the ass, as another was fucking me … a daisy chain of piss-wet faggot bois.

xxxxx

It was about this time that my Cock Goddess began to change … she had morphed … darker, more evil, more imposing … she was no longer so feminine, but demonic … sometimes an ugly sexual demon … a horned succubus with a cock as thick as baseball bat … she was now the Devil incarnate. Her agenda was to take you to hell. My fantasies became even more extreme as the non-consensual nature of rape and genital torture became necessary to appease this devil — The dark one — Evil and wicked. The shit-eating devil … This turned me on. It was more than just a quick butt-fuck and a soaking in piss — it was filled with fear and anticipated agony.

The devil was no longer hermaphroditic … she was shemale (her vagina has gone). The devil’s cock was never flaccid. The devil’s cock demanded human sacrifices. The rituals of darkness, needed young victims to be abducted, and tormented before being raped — I remember the night, I first called out to her, as the Devil incarnate, I had the most powerful orgasm of my entire young little life.

Back in those preteen days, I had never heard of words like auto-erotica or urolagnia — but my memory of these moments is so strong. It’s like it happened only yesterday.

THE BEGINNING