DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. All Rights Reserved © 2023 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Historical (1980s), Demonic, Satanic, Incest, Shemale, Pedophilia, Sodomy, Abuse, Corruption, Evil, Devil Worship, NC, Sexual Sin, Sex Demons, Ritual Murder.
CREATED: 15.06.2020 / REVISITED: 15.07.2023
AUTHORS NOTES: Loosely based on a 1982 movie by the same name. I have kept most of the characters from the original movie and incidentally, most of the character’s scripts—which I painfully transcribed over the course of an entire month. Of course, it’s a lot more perverted (as you would expect from me); however, I was faithful to most of the scenes. Try and watch the movie and compare—I would be very interested to get your feedback.
SPECIAL THANKS: To Broken Grunty for his supreme editing skills.
Black Candles 1
SYNOPSIS OF BLACK CANDLES:
It’s the eighties — a time of exploration and revelry. A young woman, Carol, travels with her boyfriend, Robert, to England after the abrupt death of her brother, Drew. Though her visit has only been brief, she feels uneasy about the death of her brother and suspects fowl play is afoot. And staying with her estranged sister-in-law, Fiona, she finds herself and her companion, soon drawn into a satanic cult that is based in her sister-in-law’s house. Their provocative occult rites seem to center around perverted and sadistic sexual congress.
FILMOGRAPHY OF BLACK CANDLES:
A soft-core sex film masquerading as a horror movie, Black Candles sees Spanish director José Ramón Larraz—the man responsible for cult erotic Euro-horror classic Vampyres – using the themes of Satanism and witchcraft as an excuse to depict as much sexual depravity as possible. While he doesn’t quite stray into graphic Jess Franco territory, steering well clear of gynecological close-ups, Larraz still manages to seriously steam up the screen with wall-to-wall lesbian and hetero sex. Plus a little something for animal lovers.
CHARACTERS OF BLACK CANDLES:
- Carol – protagonist, sister of deceased (Drew), 32
- Fiona – Carol’s sister-in-law (was married to Drew), occultist, 38
- Robert – Carol’s boyfriend, a professor of Latin, 39
- Reverend Huber – reverend, foreigner, occultist, priest of Satan, 42
- Georgina – witch, occultist, 38
- Drew – Carol’s deceased brother, a successful lawyer, 42
- John – Georgina’s husband, works on the farm, 44
- Steve – Georgina’s son, a stable boy, 12
- Annalise aka Little Annie – Reverend Huber’s god-daughter, 13
- Mr. Gonzolas – occultist, foreigner, husband to Mrs. Gonzolas, 45
- Mrs. Gonzolas – occultist, foreigner, wife of Mr. Gonzolas, 36
- Docctor Gaunt – local doctor, occultist, 40
- Mr. Connor – lawyer, Drew’s boss, close friend, 55
BLACK CANDLES CHAPTER ONE (3,301 WORDS) — A DEATH IN THE FAMILY
Above the four-poster bed huge painting of the Baphomet. It looked ominous, evil, phallic, and imposing; and it made Drew feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like this room. But, in the same instance, he was drawn to it. In the flickering candlelight, it had taken on a wickedness – a forbidding that seemed to both repel and excite. His fear had seemed to magnify and he’d had quite a bit to drink already.
He was there. So young. So sensual — So homoerotic — Drew wanted him and his cock throbbed as he looked upon the young boy’s childish complete nakedness; with the exception of the strange metal medallion that hung around Steve’s slender neck. Drew allowed his long black gown to fall to the ground, as he mounted the four-poster bed and knelt down next to young Steve, who lay across the bedding. Drew was forty-two. Steve was only twelve.
Drew tasted scotch whiskey and stale cigarettes. Steve tasted innocence and sunshine. The older male’s hands caressed Steve’s effeminate budding flesh as they continued kissing fervently. He stopped and held the medallion in his fingers. It was shaped like a hand or a claw.
”The Devil’s Paw?” he asked.
Steve appeared not to know. Or was he being secretive about his exposure to occult knowledge? Drew thought Steve probably didn’t understand its significance. It was a sign of Steve’s allegiance to this ancient pagan rite — a secretive rite — some believed it was worn to ward away evil spirits, but Drew knew the truth, that it was there to do the opposite — to attract them — was the young boy one of them? Or was he just interested in anal sex?
His attention returned to Steve. Drew’s hand caressed Steve’s small testicles and limp little penis. Drew bent forward to take it into his eager lips. The boy shuddered with pleasure and his penis immediately stiffened in Drew’s warm mouth. Now he pressed their stiff cocks together. They frotted against each other and then Drew turned his young boy lover over onto his all-fours. Drew knelt up behind his bottom so that he could press his cock against Steve’s tight little anus.
Steve was excited as the first couple of inches of Drew’s throbbing organ sank into his tight rectum. Delicious ass-fuck. Sodomy was so taboo. Steve, being a mere child, only fueled his illicit passion. The boy groaned and gyrated beneath him — pushing his ass-pussy further down the length of Drew’s fuck-stick. Soon Drew’s cock was balls-deep inside his hot, tight boy-cunt. Their movements began to synchronize as their mutual pleasure increased.
Drew felt hot. Sweat ran down his back as he grunted and fucked the boy harder.
Unseen eyes moved behind that of the painted Baphomet. Evil eyes peered through a secretive peephole — watching the amorous couple as they fucked on the bed below. Their lips whispered in Latin — a satanic verse. In hand, it held a small clay doll — a replica of its intended victim. The hand took a long, sharp needle and pressed it against the surface of the clay doll, just about where its heart would be. The needle’s tip pierced deep into the delicate clay doll.
Drew stopped and gasped. He suddenly felt a sharp pain inside his chest. An agonizing pain that seemed to rip right through him — as if speared by a dagger.
”Aghhhhggggggg …” he cried.
The boy turned around, he felt Drew’s penis suddenly soften inside his bowels and then slip from his sphincter. It was then, that he realized Drew’s cries were not that of sexual ecstasy as Drew fell backward, clutching his chest in absolute agony.
Drew saw himself, as if disembodied. Looking down upon his weltering body that has collapsed upon the bedding. His eyes were glassy, his limbs stiff and non-moving. His heart no longer beating. Everything seems to fade to white. And then he was gone.
The eyes behind the peephole blinked. They watched the boy as he got up. The young boy seemed unmoved by the fate of his dead lover. He held the “Devil’s Paw,” in his tiny hand and up towards the painting of the Baphomet. He seemed to smile knowingly.
Carol was Drew’s sister. At thirty-two, she had been much younger than her brother. They hadn’t seen each other for over a year and the news of his passing came as quite a shock. She felt guilty about the gap in their communications — but that was the pace of life these days. The early eighties was a time of huge technological change; computers with floppy disks, Sony Walkman, video games, and the world’s first mobile phones.
Her boyfriend, Robert, had agreed to travel with her, back to London, so she could pay her last respects and sort out his last will and testament. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to. They’d been close when they were young. Maybe too close. Drew had been handsome and she’d had a bit of a crush on him. She’d never told anyone. But then again incest was one of those taboo topics that didn’t go down well in their conservative Christian life.
She wondered how he’d died. There wasn’t much said, only that it had been very sudden. She’d arranged that Robert and her could stay in the old family house, that was now looked after by her sister-in-law, Fiona. They’d only met briefly before – and hadn’t really got to know each other particularly well. Robert had wanted to stay in London. He was very intellectual in his pursuits.
He wanted to visit some of the museums there, but Carol didn’t want that. She wanted to be in Drew’s house. It had been in their family for five generations. It had a familiar smell. It felt like home.
They had caught the late flight into London’s, Gatwick airport, traveling on Aviaco Airlines. Fiona would be there to meet them. And then it would be a short drive out into the country wilds. The old house had been grand in its day, with a rolling twelve-acre estate surrounding the old ivy-covered mansion.
Robert took the front passenger seat, next to Fiona and Carol sat in the rear. Carol thought Fiona was quite beautiful, maybe in her late thirties, she seemed very well-maintained. Her shoulder-length hair was groomed and her clothing elegant yet simple — just a black dress with white pearls.
“Robert thinks he will be kept prisoner in the house,” said Carol.
“How long will you be staying in London?” asked Fiona.
“Just a few days … just a short stay,” replied Robert.
“You’re both very busy,” noted Fiona, “I see — what do you do Robert?”
“I am a professor of Latin.”
It began to rain quite heavily. The windscreen wipers struggled to get rid of the access rainwater. Fiona’s car drove on through the small lanes in the English countryside.
“When the weather is bad, it can be dangerous, as the roads in England are very narrow,” said Fiona as she lit her cigarette.
“Fresh air makes me so sleepy,” yawned Carol as she began to fall asleep.
Her mind slipped beyond consciousness into a dreamy state, lulled by the movement of the car.
Finally, they arrived. It was dark. The house was in complete darkness too. Fiona tried the switches but nothing was working.
“No electricity again … it’s always happening,” stated Fiona.
“Fuses?” asked Robert.
“No the line is down,” answered Fiona.
A stab of lightning brightened up the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder. The room looked antique. Everything was old-fashioned. There seemed to be many candlestick holders filled with black candles.
“Why do you have all these candle sticks?” asked Carol.
“I am very fond of candlelight, it makes things look … intimate,” answered Fiona.
“Why all the black candles, black is so dreary?” replied Carol.
Fiona brought one of the candlesticks and lead them all into the darkened living room.
“What would you like to drink, no tea or coffee, so it will have to be alcohol?” asked Fiona.
“Whiskey,” stated Robert.
“Sherry for me,” said Carol.
Robert grabbed the firelighter and lit the open fire. The room began to glow with the warmth and radiant light of the fireplace. It seemed inviting, Carol remembered the room from when she lived with her parents here. It looked familiar, but different. Carol lit a cigarette. Robert got out his pipe.
“You’re more beautiful now than the last time you were here. I think you’ve lost a little weight. You remind me of your brother,” said Fiona, “It’s the family resemblance.”
Carol felt uneasy with Fiona’s compliments. This woman, who’d been her brother’s wife, had always come across as rather secretive. Enigmatic and particular. Now, it seemed even more so. Her brother’s sudden passing just clouded their relationship with unanswered questions.
In the firelight, Robert noticed the strange lithographs that adored all the walls. They were a series of framed images of demons. He recognized them, from his time spent in the seminary, as the Seventy-two Demons of Solomon, also known as Clavicula Salomonis Regis.
“Are you interested in demonology?” asked Robert.
“Only certain aspects interest me, Robert,” answered Fiona
Carol immediately disliked them. They looked dark, evil, and not the kind of decorative art that should adore the walls of her ancestral home. Her brother would not have approved.
“They were never in this house before,” stated Carol, “Anyway, I find these things evil and abominable.”
“I never reject anything out of hand,” Interjected Robert, as he turned his attention to their host, Fiona.
“That attitude is more intelligent.” remarked Fiona, “Many people of importance were constantly making pacts with the devil. Drew and I were discovering many interesting things in the last few years.”
Fiona showed the couple to their upstairs bedroom. Two single beds. The room had its own en suite. Without electricity, the room was lit with more candles. It softened the room — even gave it a romantic mood. They would be very comfortable there, Carol was sure. Fiona left them to settle in. As it was already very late, soon the couple began to get changed for bed.
“Even though your sister-in-law does seem a little eccentric; she’s nice when you get down to it,” said Robert.
“Fiona can be enchanting when she wants to be,” answered Carol.
“Well she was today,” added Robert.
“Yes, I know how she acted,” replied Carol, with a slightly bitchy tone to her voice.
“Hey, what’s the matter with you?”
“I’m not sure what she was insinuated about my brother … ‘having discovered many interesting things in the last few years?’ … And what’s with those horrendous pictures in the living room? Not to mention all those black candles?” Carol said as she continued to undress, “There was a book I read once, on witchcraft, that said that, at their gatherings, they always used black candles.”
“Maybe your sister-in-law is a witch and you never knew about it?” laughed Robert.
The voices of the couple’s conversation sounded slightly muffled. Fiona stood in a darkened antechamber. She opened a secret peephole that allowed her assess to the adjoining bedroom. There, she clearly observed the naked forms of her sister-in-law, Carol, and her boyfriend, Robert, as they undressed for bed.
“Anyway when the Devil tempted Eve — he found his first willing servant — well that’s what the great book says; that’s why all you women are a little bewitched,” it was the voice of Robert.
“You spent too long in the seminary,” answered the voice of Carol, “Drew couldn’t have been a student of the occult. He was too delightful and carefree.”
“A person can change a lot in that time,” replied the voice of Robert.
Fiona’s bright eyes scanned back and forth as their naked forms nestled together on Carol’s single bed. Fiona subconsciously licked her lips as she studied her naked sister-in-law’s shapely breasts. The couple kissed passionately. Fiona’s pupils dilated at the sight of the couple’s amorous passions. She heard Carol moan softly as Robert’s hands roamed across her naked body.
As Fiona watched the couple’s love play, she opened the top of her dress. Her left hand slipped inside and began playing with her almost-flat breasts. Her elongated nipples were already hardened with voyeuristic delight.
Even in the softness of the candlelight, Fiona could clearly see Robert’s hard cock as it penetrated Carol’s delicious cunt. Fiona wanted to lick that young fresh cunt. She wanted to suck his rigid meat pole. Now, Robert mounted her from behind. They became more animated. Gyrating and thrusting against each. Rutting like animals.
Fiona’s right hand began to slip inside her underwear finding instant pleasure as she touched her own flesh.
“Aaaarghhhh,” groaned Carol in pleasure as her boyfriend fucked her harder.
She seemed to be already close to orgasm. The frisky couple continued to kiss passionately.
Fiona quivered. She was also close to cumming.
The bedroom was quiet. Carol stirred and turned in her naked restlessness.
Her mind journeyed back to the painted demons in the living room. Those fiendish creatures of perversion and evil. Their demonic eyes and pointed teeth. The exaggerated penis of the Baphomet. The toilet demon. The repulsive bat-like creatures. The deformed bodies and scaly skin. Their genitals were all excited as they stared back at her naked form.
Then she was in a lush green garden. It was a primal place. She found herself completely naked. She looked around. What dangers lay in the dark vegetation? Nothing was familiar. She walked across the velvety undergrowth and smelt a lustiness in the air. She felt aroused being there. Was this the first Garden? The Garden of Eden? Was she Eve? The first woman. Words reverberated in her mind “… when the Devil tempted Eve he found his first willing servant …” Was she to be a servant of the Devil?
As she turned and glanced over her shoulder she saw her brother, Drew. Like her, Drew was completely naked. Had he been following her? She began to walk away and he continued to pursue her. The dream moved as dreams do, not necessarily in a linear sequence. She found herself in a grassy clearing. Drew lay down. His penis was fully erect. Carol didn’t hesitate, she straddled his body so that his cock slipped into her incestuous vagina.
Carol turned nervously in her restlessness. Her body was drenched in sexual sweat. She muttered to herself as Robert lay fast asleep in the single bed next to hers.
They kissed deeply as Carol’s body rose and fell, her pumping movements increasing in both exaggeration and lustiness. She groaned loudly and lewdly into her brother’s incestuous mouth as she fucked his rock-hard cock faster and faster.
The pleasure she felt was intense. Taboo pleasure. Carol shuddered uncontrollably as she road her brother faster and harder. With her attention focused on her own pleasuring, she didn’t notice the presence of her lusty sister-in-law, Fiona, who stood watching the two incestuous lovers entangled as they fornicated.
Fiona moved forward. She was dressed in a black veil of mourning — as if she’d arrived at a funeral. She pulled back the lace veil that covered her face and kissed Carol’s mouth, their tongues entwined like vipers, as Fiona’s hand began to grope wantonly at Carol’s breasts. Carol began to quake in the throws of an intense orgasm — she screamed and bucked like a wild animal.
Carol awoke abruptly.
It was still very dark. She panted as if she’d been running. Fragments of her dream drifted back to her. Incest. Drew. Lust. Fiona. Their Sapphic kiss. Her screaming orgasm. She felt uncomfortably wet. Glancing over at her boyfriend, he remained inert. A dream. A crazy, fucked up dream. Incest. Drew. Fiona. Carol got up and changed into her nightgown. She dashed her face with cold water in the bathroom and took a noisy pee.
She felt too awake to go back to bed, so she decided to get a drink from the kitchen. She held the fancy curved balustrade as she navigated the darkness of the antique staircase. The gloomy house echoed with her movements. She passed the oak-paneled lounge. There was a framed picture of her brother on the sideboard. She picked it up and kissed the picture. Incest. Taboo. Unnatural sex. Unholy. And held it to her hard. There seemed an unsettling wickedness connected to her taboo dream. She shook her head. She did miss him.
Carol walked to the kitchen and stood at the sink. She filled a glass with water and took a sip. Suddenly, without warning — at the window appeared a dark bearded man — Carol jumped backward and gave a yelp in shock. Smash. The glass fell to the floor and broke into pieces. She looked again. He was gone. Her heart was racing. Fight or flight.
“What are you doing here, Carol?” said Fiona.
Carol was still in a state of shock, but managed to mumble, “I just had such a fright!”
“What happened?” asked Fiona.
Carol’s sister-in-law was dressed in a long black gown. She held Carol’s hand to reassure her.
“You might think I am half asleep Fiona, but I just saw a bearded man through the window; I bet you think I just had a nightmare.”
“I believe you did; who would be out there in the middle of the night?” replied Fiona looking out of the window into the darkness.
“I don’t know, but I saw him,” mumbled Carol.
“Apart from a few eccentric foreigners, I assure you that this area is safest in the county; I’ll get you a tea and then I take you back upstairs to rest; you look very tired,” said Fiona as she stroked Carol’s hair affectionately.
Carol remembered their Sapphic kiss. Their long lusty kiss. Their tongues entwined. It made her feel very uncomfortable. She was strangely attracted to this woman — she knew she shouldn’t be. Unnatural. Unchristian. But it was, what it was.
Fiona began to make Carol some of her special tea. The aroma was strong. Fiona didn’t tell her sister-in-law about the tea’s strongly aphrodisiac qualities.
“What is it?” asked Carol as she watched with curiosity, “Do you smell incense?”
“It’s this,” Fiona held up a strange little bottle, “They are home-grown herbs; they can be very beneficial for a nervous condition.”
Carol had returned to bed. Fiona cleared up the broken glass. As she lit up a cigarette, she heard a quiet knock on the kitchen door. It was the Reverend Huber.
“She’s Drew’s sister, right?” asked the enigmatic priest.
“And she saw you, Reverend,” answered Fiona taking a long drag on her cigarette.
“You should be prudent; if she suspects, we might have serious headaches.”
“Why is she here?” asked the priest.
“Probably to deal with her inheritance. Our lawyers in London will take care of it.”
Reverend Huber rubbed the hairs of his sharp-pointed beard.
“What happens if she finds out what we did to her brother? Drew spoke too much toward the end. He was very foolish.”
“I know … That’s why we had to kill him,” she answered, in a matter-of-fact manner.
“There are many that hate us,” added the priest.
“And also fear us. Don’t worry about those things,” replied Fiona.
“The equinox is near. When we celebrate the Sabbath — they shouldn’t be here.”
“They will be gone by then, let me take care of it all. Okay?” replied Fiona as she pushed him out the back door.
BLACK CANDLES CHAPTER TWO (2,691 WORDS) – THINGS JUST DON’T ADD UP
The afternoon was balmy. Fiona and Carol walked slowly together down the rambling forest path, that was the shortcut to the small chapel and to the village graveyard where Carol’s brother had been laid to rest. She had not been at the funeral — as it all had happened while she was overseas.
Both Fiona and Carol were dressed in long somber black dresses, with their hair pulled back in a conservative effort to appropriate for the sadness. Carol had loved her brother deeply. She’d never acted upon her compulsions and incestuous attraction to Drew. She never knew if it was mutual. These unchristian thoughts always troubled her … made her feel freakish … like a pervert. She also felt weird being back in London. Drew had left her a cryptic note, before his death and Carol was still coming to terms with this strangeness.
The crows squawked noisily their disapproval of the presence of the two women, as they walked through the tree-lined pathway. Carol looked onward as she heard the melancholic sound of the church bells, as they rang out their tuneless calling to the faithful.
“I think your brother has achieved eternal rest,” said Fiona
“Did he suffer?” asked Carol.
“It happened very quickly,” answered Fiona, “All of a sudden a man that was very active, left us forever. The doctor signed his death certificate. I was told that the cause of death was an embolism. He asked if we wanted to request an autopsy. Well, I accepted his expert opinion, Carol … Drew was gone … an autopsy wasn’t going to bring him back. I didn’t want to prolong it … I just needed to settle my grief privately.”
Carol walked over to the grave alone, leaving Fiona on the church porch. She looked down at the lonely stone. ‘In loving memory of Drew’ … Carol thought about her incestuous dream; where she’d made love to Drew in that erotic garden; and then sensually kissed her sister-in-law.
She could feel their tongues snaking back and forth. She could taste the sweetness of her saliva. Her cunt felt moist and itchy. She felt a bizarre urge to act upon these sinful compulsions. What was wrong with her? Why now, on this solemn day? There was something about her sister-in-law that seemed to bring about this unwanted sexual obsession.
She was brought back to the moment as gusts of wind blew the trees back and forth. Carol thought she heard a voice … a disembodied voice saying her name … “Carol … Carol … Leave here forever …”
Georgina had been posing as Fiona’s servant, and her presence in their household had gone unnoticed by Carol and Robert, who just accepted it as a matter of fact. But even though she was dressed like a French maid, Georgina was nobody’s servant.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew her as the wife of Old John, who ran the adjacent farm; and the mother of a twelve-year-old boy, Steven, who helped his father in the stables.
However, things were not as they seemed. And Georgina and Fiona had more in common, as both were witches of the same coven. They’d been lovers, more than willing to indulge in each other’s deviant desires. Georgina was a powerful witch. She was also very wicked, perverted, and perpetually horny.
Now, Georgina opened the door to Carol’s bedroom.
She made sure that Carol and Robert were not around before going through their personal belongings. She rifled through their things in haste. And then, in their suitcase pocket, she found what she was looking for. It was an old antique necklace. A keepsake was given to Carol by her estranged brother, Drew. Georgia lifted the unusual piece of jewelry up to the light coming in from the window and admired the unusual workmanship. It was exquisite, with several large gemstones, set in silver.
There was no way that Carol would have understood the significance of this prized item or its occult sexual power.
Georgia rubbed the necklace across her breasts. They tingled deliciously. Even though the fabric of her shirt, the sensation was very strongly arousing. She muffled a sensual groan and quickly looked around. She was unseen and unheard. Her heart rate was elevated and her cunt was already dripping in illicit pleasure. She quickly hide the necklace in her apron pocket and left their room.
“You have it?” asked Fiona.
“Yes,” answered Georgina plainly, “I know what to do with it.”
“Hail Satan!” replied Fiona.
Steven, the twelve-year-old stableboy, slipped into the gloom of the old stables. He noticed the distinctive shadows of his mother, Georgina, and another of her cronies — the lady of the manor, Fiona.
The light wasn’t very good, so his view was somewhat limited, but he could make out the silhouettes, as they both crouched lowly on the straw-covered stable floor.
Slipping closer and watched them. His young cock instantly hardened as he spied on the two naked witches as the performed some kind of ritual upon the farm’s billy goat. He knew it wasn’t any normal goat, as the other witches all kept good care of it.
It was a foul black-haired animal with huge curled horns. Belligerent and uncooperative. He hated handling it. It gave him the creeps. But, strangely, he also felt very horny around it too. Steven had overheard them say something about a demon or the Devil inside the animal.
The two witches were both on their hands and knees. He could make out their movements that centered around the hindquarters of the animal. They seemed to be both masturbating the goat with their hands. Maybe more his mother than the other witch, who seemed to be holding a cup or a challis to catch the goat’s semen. It looked filthy, but it still turned him on.
He’d been fucked by that guy that died. Drew. The witches wanted him dead for reasons they never told him. He’d done as they asked as he loved to be sodomized more than anything. To feel a man’s rock-hard cock in his tight boy cunt was always hot.
He liked to fuck his nasty mother too when his father wasn’t around. His mother was perpetually horny. Always wet between the legs. She’d initiated their incestuous affair, while he was only ten or so. First, she’d shown him how to masturbate and orgasm, then how to fuck her and cum inside her hungry cunt. That was some two years ago.
And since then, the two of them fucked and sucked as often as possible. Sometimes, three or four times a day. She was a dirty bitch and liked all sorts of perverted things. She loved him to piss inside her cunt and to fuck in the ass. She even sucked and licked his shit-streaked-cock afterward. She said it was the Devil’s way. She made him promise not to say anything to his father.
Now, he watched them ‘milking’ the goat. His mother’s hands reached beneath the goat’s hairy belly. Her fingers were a blur of movement as they expertly rubbed the flesh of the goat, from its testicles and the tip of its deformed penis. The witches chanted and kissed each other, mouth-to-mouth. He could see their tongues moving in and out between their lips.
Steven found the whole scene strangely erotic. He saw the witches breasts. Their nipples looked hard, as they jerked the animal. He wanted to suckle upon their hardened nipples. His mother had small, but hard tits. He noticed she was wearing a strange necklace. He hadn’t seen it before. It seemed to glow in the darkness. He knew his mother’s cunt would be dripping wet. If he was lucky, she’d want him to fuck her, as soon as she was done with the goat.
His hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he began to masturbate, as furiously as his mother’s hands moved back and forth as they squeezed the evil animal’s cock. Then the goat grunted and began to spill its seed to the excitement of the two perverted witches. Almost instantaneously, he also began to ejaculate too. The pleasure was intensive. He stifled a groan, as he didn’t want his mother to know he was there. They seemed to have collected the goat’s cum. Steven quickly recovered from the intensity of his orgasm and slipped away silently into the rear of the stables leaving his spent semen over the stable floor.
Fiona returned back to the kitchen. She brushed away some dirt she’d collected on her long black dress and smoothed out the wrinkles. She held a small vile of milky liquid that was added sparingly into a stone pestle. Using her occult knowledge, she added other special herbs (that she grew in her herb garden) and mixed them to create her forbidden elixir. It was a potion. Not a poison, though she knew many of those too. This was different. Taken in small quantities it acted as a powerful aphrodisiac; but if consumed in larger doses, over a longer period, produced an imbalance of chemicals in the brain that turned the user into a nymphomaniac.
Carol lay in bed touching herself. She had not been feeling right. Her dreams had been vivid and highly sexual. And unlike other dreams that she’d had all her life, these didn’t seem to recede back over time. They remained strong in her memory. Lustful. Perverted. Unholy. Unwanted. They gave her the urge to masturbate — frequently — She’d never felt such a compulsion before. Her cunt was wet from thinking about it.
The door opened. Carol covered herself immediately. It was her strange sister-in-law. She was carrying a cup of her herbal tea. The smell was pungent. Carol hated the taste of it. But Fiona had been insistent that she take it, morning, noon, and night. Fiona set the cup down on the bedside table.
“Not these herbs again?” asked Carol.
But she already knew the answer.
“You drank them last night; be a good girl; I take them all the time,” replied Fiona.
“It stinks all over the house; what is it?”
“The plant has a Long Latin name — but that doesn’t matter — just drink.”
Carol did as she was told.
“It’s really awful,” said Carol.
“When you’re accustomed to it, you’ll drink it every day.”
“Drew wrote me a strange letter before he died,” said Carol, “I hadn’t planned to mention it, but it’s better if we talk about it. He told me in the letter that he was unhappy and afraid, he didn’t go into detail. The letter was rather ambiguous — it seemed like it was written in a hurry — what caught my attention was that the handwriting was different.”
“Did he say anymore? —” Asked Fiona.
“No, the letter was very brief. Just a note. Like a desperate message. It was a letter from a terrified man.”
“Aren’t you dramatizing a bit?” asked Fiona.
“I didn’t want to speak about this matter earlier but there are questions that should be resolved,” Carol continued.
“What are they?”
“I’d prefer us both to be open and speak honestly, so we can trust each other.”
“Of course — We really hated each other — if that is what you wanted to know,” confessed Fiona.
“I suspected that in your relationship.”
“Your brother was an alcoholic — he was plastered day and night — he wasn’t himself; not the happy-go-lucky Drew, you knew. His career was going downhill.
Maybe he was depressed? I’m not surprised that his handwriting had changed,” lied Fiona.
Georgina admired herself in the dressing mirror. She’d applied dark eye shadow and black lipstick. A classic witch. A Gothic witch. She absentmindedly fingered the ornate necklace that she’d taken from their guest. She felt its strangeness around her neck.
Her guts twisted in the need for sex. Perverted sex. She’d left Fiona to cast her wickedness over her meddling sister-in-law — Potions weren’t Georgina’s thing.
Looking over her shoulder, she lustfully eyed the young girl that lay naked across her bed. Her hairless cunt was clearly on display as the young girl wriggled around on top of the bed sheets. Of course, she loved the taboo of incest with her darling little son.
His cock was always hard and willing to fill his mother’s hot wet holes. But tonight she longed for something else.
The Reverend’s god-daughter had just turned thirteen. Her milk-white skin and raven-black hair looked so delightful in contrast. Georgina knew the girl was no virgin. No, her god-father had initiated her into his dark coven when she was only six. She was almost as insatiable as Georgina. Even now the girl’s fingers played with herself in plain view.
She thought, at the time, that the Reverend had intended her as a human sacrifice to Satan. They’d perform that ritual several times. It was intense, to say the least. The victim was never to be no older than twelve. She would have to be a virgin, but menstruating. The sacrificial one was to be terrified, as fear was important to trap her mortal soul. The ritual was torturous — raping and abusing — the orgy was always intense. There was nothing quite like it. And after the high priest had finally killed her, the witches covered themselves in her virgin blood, dancing, and masturbating before the Baphomet as they eat her flesh — they would cut out her heart — so that it could be inserted into the vagina of Satan’s bride.
No. The Reverend had something else in mind. At the next full moon, Little Annie would find herself beneath the belly of the black goat. The Devil would use that blessed animal to fornicate with the faithful. She would find great pleasure; as the possessed animal’s deformed cock rammed up her tight little cunt hole — penetrating her and bumping her cervix — Georgina would of course preside over that carnal ritual — the Devil’s seed— mixed with the sexual secretions of this unbaptized girl would create a potent mixture for his witches to use upon the Sabbath.
Georgina got up and brought the potion over to the bed in a strange brass container. Inside was an oily balm prepared by Fiona for this occasion. Georgina, lifted the lid and sniffed its content. It smelled exotic and made her craving even more intensified. The Reverend’s god-daughter, Little Annie, looked up at Georgina wantonly. Georgina placed the stolen necklace around the girl’s neck. She reached over and picked up the brass container.
”This won’t hurt,” she said to the youngster.
Georgina dropped her fingers into the oily potion and began to apply to the young girl’s flatfish chest, rubbing the concoction into her aureoles, and bringing her budding young nipples to a hardened point. Georgina began to kiss the girl upon her mouth and at the same, began to vigorously rub the ointment between Little Annie’s legs.
”Hhhheehhhhhh,” hissed the tiny girl as Georgina began to masturbate her.
Georgina’s mouth closed over the girl’s nipples sucking each of them. Then she moved downwards in search of her young slit. Georgina was ravenous for kiddy cunt. Little Annie bucked against Georgina’s expert mouth, as she began to lick her vulva and suck her tiny clitoris. Lust consumed them both.
The door opened, but neither Little Annie nor Georgina paid any heed. The Reverend stood by the bed, dressed only in his black stole. In one of his hands, he held an incense burner; its smoky mist filled the room with a pungent door: while in his other hand, he held a large black book.
“A nobis invocandos Daemones sexus est, ut inficiat filia satanas. A nobis invocandos Daemones non possunt equitare magna Baphometic sexus est capra. A nobis invocandos Daemones non possunt transmutare sexus et semen suum.”
(We invoke the demons of sex to infect this daughter of Satan. We invoke the demons of sex that she may ride the great Baphometic goat. We invoke the demons of sex so that she may transmute his seed.)
BLACK CANDLES CHAPTER THREE (2,373 WORDS) – EVIL IS IRRESISTIBLE
Georgina guided Little Annie into the stable, where she lay down naked upon a large Baphometic rug that had been spread out upon the soft barn straw. The barn had been decorated in the sigils of devil worship. It was lit with many blood candles, bathing the eerie place in flickers of incandescence.
Her godfather, Reverend Huber, stood close by. He looked upon her nubile nakedness. It was a look, filled with greedy lust. As he prayed, he opened the front of his long black robe and began to masturbate. The strange and unfamiliar words curled from his poisonous tongue.
Annie knew they were Latin or one of several ancient languages that her god-father was familiar with. She felt so horny, yet still a little scared. Georgina, the witch, stayed by her side, soothing her. Soon his words began to trance her — echoing in her mind that was filled with strange sexual desires. Georgina kissed her deeply. She felt the witch’s tongue invading her mouth, drinking from her mortal soul.
Georgina placed the strange necklace around Little Annie’s neck. They continued to kiss passionately. The flow of energy moved back and forth between them. Annie’s young cunt felt so itchy, ready for penetration. Would it be her godfather again?
Georgina opened the young girl’s legs wider, as she signaled her son to bring the large black goat closer to the Baphometic rug.
Young Annie’s body seemed to undulate, lifting her ass from the surface of the rug, pressing her lions upwards in anticipation of penetration. Georgina sucked the young girl’s nipples and began to vigorously finger-fuck her. The girl was soaked in her own girl juices, flowing along to the sound of the black magick of her godfather’s evil will.
The stableboy steadied the amorous animal that seemed to be aware of what was happening, as if an animal could. But, as Steven approached holding the goat firmly by its red studded collar, his eyes burned brightly in the shadowy illuminations. The stable boy’s cock was hard and throbbing, as he looked upon his naked mother and the Reverend’s god-daughter as they both lay together before the chanting priest.
“In nomine Magni Dei Nostri Satanas. Introibo ad altare Domini Inferi.”
He saw the priest stroking his cock as he cast his incomprehensible words that charmed both the goat and even himself into its sexual bewitchment. He could clearly see his witch mother finger-fucking the girl, whose eyes had glazed over, crazed with demonic lustiness.
Georgina nodded to her son and he positioned the goat between the girl’s open legs. The animal instinctively stepped across her, so that its pelvis aligned with hers. Georgina helped to steady the goat as her son assisted from behind.
“Spread your legs wide so that the beast can enter you. Your juices must mix to make the magic potion,” whispered Georgina to the young girl.
“It’s hurting. It’s too big — aaaaaaarrghhh —” groaned Little Annie.
“Nothing will happen to you. It will be all right. That’s it!” lied the witch.
Her voice sounded uncaring, more eager, to make her dark enchantment happen. Georgina held the animal by its collar, drawing it closer. She knew that the goat’s long cock had begun to penetrate the young one. She envied her. How she loved to be fucked by it. But, this was to enable their evil potion. More than just fucking. More than just illicitness.
Little Annie seemed to half purr and half whine as the goat began to fuck her. Her godfather’s prayers seemed to intensify. Urging her. Urging this bestial union. The goat’s cock rutted in hard thrusts that filled her with both pleasure and pain. Its unnatural length penetrated the young girl — bumping against her cervix.
The witch stroked her hair, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Little Annie gripped the hairy underside of the large black ram. Her tongue snaked from her mouth licking the ram’s mouth, kissing the animal, as it fucked her harder and harder. The torturous pleasure intensified. Pleasure and pain. The animal neared its ejaculation.
”That’s it. Hail Satan!” urged the witch.
“Hail Carol … hail lust … hail Carol… hail lust …” cried the Reverend as he too approached his orgasm.
Carol climbed out of the London taxi and entered the old building. She is shown into the office of Mr. Connor, an elderly lawyer, dressed in a dark grey pinstripe suit. The grey-haired lawyer looked up from his notepad.
“Your brother was one of our best lawyers and a personal friend,” said Mr. Connor,
“We were all terribly affected by his sudden death. We don’t know what could have pushed Drew to drink. It was inexplicable; because everything happened so rapidly. I told him once that he should cut down on his drinking as it would ruin his career. It was truly a pity because he was incredibly successful. You see Drew was our best lawyer. Sometimes we kidded him about his unnaturally good fortune, saying that he had a pact — in secret — with the Devil.”
“Do you know my brother’s wife, Fiona?” asked Carol.
“Naturally my dear. A woman that is bewitching and charming. They were the perfect couple,” answered Mr. Connor.
“Did he express any concerns to you — about his well-being?” she asked.
“No, but I would like to be frank … your brother seemed to be very frightened. Here’s his last will and testament. Everything is in order,” replied Mr. Conner.
“Thank you,” said Carol taking the envelope.
“Needless to say … whatever you should need of me, you rest assured that you have a friend at your disposal,” added the lawyer.
“Thank you, Mr. Connor, it’s great that I can count on a friend like you.”
“Say hello to Fiona for me,” he added, as Carol got up to leave.
Just as she reached the door — a disturbing image flashed across her mind — she saw a young woman … maybe more the age of a young girl … laying naked on the floor of darkened place … wearing a necklace that was given to her by her deceased brother… she heard someone chanting in Latin …
“In nomine Magni Dei Nostri Satanas. Introibo ad altare Domini Inferi”
… the girl was being fucked by a large goat-like demon … it was raping her … she lay helpless beneath it’s hairy torso … Carol could see the demonic creature’s penis was thrusting into the girl’s child-like cunt — she was screaming — in acute pain? Or perverted pleasure? Carol’s head throbbed with a sharp pain.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mr. Connor, seeing Carol looking faint.
“Don’t know — I feel a little dizzy,” she lied.
The greenhouse was a little chilly. Robert sniffed at a small vial. He looked around and the large glass-walled room that was filled with hanging fauna and copious potted plants. There was a large wooden table in the middle of the room. Standing behind the table was Fiona, dressed in a light blue silken gown. Around her neck, she wore a long string of white pearls. She lifted another of her potions and inspected it with her magnifying glass.
“This is the odor, you can smell throughout the house, isn’t it?” asked Robert.
“Does it bother you?” replied Fiona.
Without a bra or any underwear beneath her gown, the coldness made her nipples stand proud. Robert’s eyes betrayed his interest in her feminine form.
“No, we got used to it,” Robert said, “Is this what they use to call Mandragora?”
“You speak of Mandragora?” she asked.
“Yes, it is the plants that witches used in their magic potions in the middle ages,” he replied.
Fiona smiled at Robert. His knowledge of the occult, witches, and demons seemed to please her greatly. Were they of kindred nature? It seemed their common interest in these dark and evil things was drawing them closer together (while it seemed to repel Robert’s girlfriend, Carol. Her dislike of these dark and wicked things seemed too obvious).
“So they say,” said Fiona as she pick up a small blue vial, “This is la solanaceous (deadly nightshade). This one is water hemlock.”
“You’re an expert botanist,” he complimented.
She stood closer and made sure she was silhouetted against the window.
“I’m only interested in a few — In the making of my teas — I like curative herbs,” she replied.
“And the lethal ones?” asked Robert.
“Them too,” she replied, “This is Digitalis Purpurea (Plantaginaceae). In England, we also call this foxglove.”
“Is it deadly?”
“No, it’s completely inoffensive. Now this is my favorite one — Purple Berry.”
“What is that used for?” he asked.
“To make languid lovers more ardent,” laughed Fiona.
“Aphrodisiac?” he pondered.
”I hope I am not boring you with all these stories. You could have gone to London with Carol — You wouldn’t be bored? —” Fiona falsely apologized.
As she stood against the light of the greenhouse windows, Robert could almost see right through the delicate fabric of her dress. He felt horny around this strange woman — in a way that he didn’t expect.
“I am okay right where I am,” he replied, trying not to make his interest in her, too obvious.
“Thank you,” flirted Fiona, “Why don’t we sit by the fire for a while?”
The fireplace was warm and comforting. She sat down upon the small couch and Robert sat on the rug at her feet.
“How did you get to know Carol?” she inquired as she played with her necklace.
“It was by chance. It was shortly after I got out of the seminary,” he replied.
“You were in a seminary?” said Fiona in complete surprise.
“Yes — but I got fed-up — soon after they ordained me,” admitted a Robert, “You see satanism is an offshoot of Christianity. I studied that question for nine years so you can imagine, I know there is all there is to know.”
“You’re not an exorcist?” she asked as she played with her pearls.
Fiona takes a small vial from her pocket and drank it. She gave a similar one to Robert. He drank it too.
“No,” he replied, “If we think about all those fallen Angels … you admit that submission to the church was imposed upon us? Submission to the devil was of our free choice? I think that is how witches first came about — they were the first Satanists.”
She laughed she opened her legs just enough so that Robert was able to see inside her gown. She would not be exactly what he expected. Her body was not that of a natural female. Not all of it. Would he reject her — or was his mind truly open? — She got the vibe that he would not say no. In fact, Fiona knew he would be into it — Her shecock throbbed beneath her flimsy robe — This was the moment of truth.
“The adulatory of evil,” added Robert, his cock was rock hard.
She was a transsexual. So that was Drew’s secret. How had he kept that from Carol all this time? Everyone assumed him to be a heterosexual man. This put an interesting twist to her persona. He wondered what it would be like. To love a transsexual. Sodomy — the sex of demons — would certainly be on the menu. Who wouldn’t be better to please a man, than a woman with a cock? He had fantasized about a woman like that before. A sexual demon, half man, half woman — hermaphroditic — Now, his cock wept with precum at the sight of such an unnatural delight. A Baphometic lover?
“But good and evil are only words,” whispered Fiona.
She could see that the view of her unusual genitalia was having an effect on his libido. The witch opened her legs even wider, allowing her cock to rise from between her parted thighs. Rising upwards. Parting her robe, her cock was no longer concealed by the fabric of her gown. She put her stiletto-ed footrest against the bulge in Robert’s pants, as she openly touched herself in front of him. As she stroked her girl-cock she watched his eyes spark with unnatural desire.
“Only our instincts tell us what we want to know —” she murmured as she ran her hands through Robert’s hair.
She leaned forward and kissed his hungry mouth. They both kissed passionately. Fiona groaned into Robert’s open mouth, as his hands plundered her body. She opened her gown, so he could see her completely naked. She wasted no time in pressing him to the floor and then mounted him.
Robert felt intoxicated with an invigorated burning lust. The combination of his own desires and that of the aphrodisiac made any remorse of unfaithfulness to Carol, not a consideration. He was now completely impassioned — by his twin-sex succubus.
Fiona took her time. Now completely naked, she sat back on the settee. Her shecock pointed upright as she began rubbing herself in slow and deliberate strokes.
Robert seemed to quiver with perverted excitement. He quickly stripped and knelt obediently between Fiona’s open thighs. He watched her stroke her thick girl-cock. Precum drooled from his own tool as he watch the witch pleasure herself.
Without words, he knew what she wanted as he sat up on his hinds and bowed his head into her lap. She stroked his hair and ever-so-subtly pressed his mouth forward so that he was now kissing her erect cock. His lips pressed against her meaty-purple-head. His tongue snaked across it before he devoured its thickness into his eager mouth.
The baphometic witch groaned longingly as she lifted her hips to meet his mouth, pressing her cock shaft deeper into his throat. Robert’s fist closed around the base of her cock, rubbing its exposed length as he sucked wholeheartedly upon her engorged cock-head. His other fist gripped his own cock, pleasuring himself in a rhythm that match Fiona’s, as she began to face-fuck him harder and more desperately.
“Satan be praised! Fuck the Holy Spirit!” she blasphemed, “Fuck the — Aaarghhhhh —”
He knew she was about to cum. He wanted her semen. Her evil seed. He wanted it all. Greedily he sucked and masturbated her, determined not to waste a single drop her of carnal fluids.
To be continued?
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