CARNIVAL OF SIN 1

Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent 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 unlawful activity as the story describes. 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 they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.

Feature Writer: XP

Feature Title: CARNIVAL OF SIN 1

Published: 01.06.2025 (FINAL — V15)

Author’s Notes: This is a story I began in March 2011 and I misplaced the draft until only recently. Coincidently, I had been watching the television show “Carnivale” and loved the dark brooding mood it created — especially the demon preacher and his evil sister. Think of it as simply a vignette of perverted acts — I wanted to create the feeling of a creepy, wicked, and most importantly, evil circus of various grotesqueries, with dubious acts, deliberately intended to bring out the worst in its audience — with carnal sexuality — as the key motivator leading them towards sin, fornication, perversion, and of course, devil worship.

Carnival Of Sin 1

“Scandal, seduction, incest, adultery, sodomy! Oh, Satan! One and unique God of my soul, inspire thou in me something yet more, present further perversions to my smoking heart, and then shalt thou see how I shall plunge myself into them all!” — Marquis De Sade.

GOGO-A-DEMON (2,138 WORDS)

They arrived way after sunset. The carnival lay in eerie waiting, half-devoured by misty fog, its lights dimmed to a soft amber hum. In the silence of the night — the grinding of the calliope distorted to sound more haunting than anything enchanting. The moonlight created a river of steamy ribbons that curled from the mouths of rusted cabinets of curiosities. The smell of stale popcorn and metallic bitterness lingered like perfume clinging to a long forgotten lover.

Tristan and Sammy had become fast friends at their local church. They were decent boys. Good boys. Christians boys. No doubt there was a homosexual attraction between the pair but they both seemed reluctant to push the point — maybe out of fear of rejection — or maybe in their tightly-knit, conservative, Christian community, effeminate gay sex was not just not something that was accepted.

Arriving at the Carnival of Sin, both young Christians harbored many secret thoughts. Maybe they were hopes, dreams, and faggot fantasies of cock sucking and the delights of sodomy. Who could tell? They were both still quite young and inexperienced but both had been secretly masturbating themselves thinking about the Carnival’s secrets and of what they’d like to do to each other, given the right opportunity.

Maybe it was the sleazy darkness that seemed to open their minds to new possibilities? Perhaps it was the hazy fog that hung around the various sideshows that seemed only to intensify their strange sissy desires … hiding their obvious body language, as they stood far too close to each other, touching each other in subtle ways … maybe both yearning to taste each other in a passionate kiss?

They were greeted by a dark-skinned Talker. (For the uninitiated, the “Talker” is the guy that introduces the show). He appeared foreign, more Asian, maybe Thai. His skin was dark and he was dressed in a top hat and tails, but nothing much else. On closer inspection, it seemed that his black-skinned torso was covered in a dark body stocking that hid his actual nakedness. Around his neck hung a large cross that was inverted.

Tristan couldn’t help but stare at it, whilst his hand subconsciously tucked his small, golden crucifix underneath his plain, white t-shirt. The Talker seemed to grin at the boys, as if he saw right through their Christian facade of decency and heterosexual pretence — it was as if he gazed directly at their faggot-sinning hearts.

“Forget about the Dime Museum, the Dog-Faced Boy, the Parasitic Twins — Welcome to Gogo-A-Demon,” the Talker announced with a strong Thai twang to his voice, “Don’t be coy, now! Step right inside, here …” he gestured towards the darkened interior, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, my young, sweet holy ones. Remember …. at the Carnival … it’s all just make-believe!”

Did they believe that? Why had they picked this sideshow? Why not the Escape Artist or the Duck Vanishing acts? They seemed to ignore the fact, or maybe they both pretended not to know exactly what “Gogo” was all about? And why the unholiness of demonic entanglement?

Maybe it was the sideshow that picked them instead?

They both seemed to be swept up in the frisson of the moment. Were they confused, excited, or just naive? The boys just seemed to move to the droning beat that was coming from within — drawing them inside the darkened interior of the bizarre Gogo-A-Demon sideshow.

Inside, their first encounter were the bizarre poster-size images of effeminate, black-skinned demons dancing erotically with less than subtle hints of the homoerotic outcomes. But this seemed to only fired up their libidinous nature in the secretive safety of the sideshow’s darkness.

“Why don’t you both take a seat … my dear altar boys … the Gogo-A-Demon show is about to begin,” announced the Talker, who seemed to be there one moment and disappeared the next.

There was only a single couch that served as their seating facing the pulsing lights that illuminated the low stage and several vertical poles. Tristan and Sammy smiled nervously at one another as they sat down. Both, trying their best to act like this was nothing more than just a fun night. Both, pretending that this all was perfectly normal.

But of course, it wasn’t — how could it be? This was, after all, the Carnival of Sins!

The erotic music became louder. It was a twisted combination of necromantic trance overlaid with the sputtering of orgasmic mutterings of pleasure, or was it pain? Male or female voices, they couldn’t really tell.

And then it began. In the pulsing lights, Tristan and Sammy saw four sexy figures emerge. They were all scantily clad “half-and-half” freaks with tiny bubble breasts. Predictably, they had demon horns upon their heads, with thick black leather chokers around their necks, dressed only in tiny black open-cup bras (showing off their dark puffy nipples) and even tinier g-strings.

Their eyes snarled devilishly at their audience of two — the four half-and-half freaks began to gyrate around the metallic poles. They all appeared to be overly thin, with dark Asian skin, just like the Talker. Their long shiny black hair rippled as it cascaded down their backs. Their painted faces were made up with glossy, blood-red, lipstick and dark eyeliner.

Tristan and Sammy stared. They had never seen anything like it. The half-and-halfs perpetually thrusted, back and forth, with their hips as they touched their tiny breasts and rubbed growing bulges beneath their g-strings.

Within no time — the freaks began to pull the flimsy material aside to display their erect dark penises as they danced and stroked themselves in time to the pulsing rhythm.

Tristan had slid his arm subconsciously slid along the back of the wide couch. Sammy began to lean in against him, his hand resting on Tristan’s thigh. Tristan seemed to be breathless as they both watched wide-eyed.

Turning to him, Sammy whispered, “We can leave, if … you want?”

“No,” he replied with conviction, “No, way! I want to stay …”

“Yer … Me too ..”

For the first time, it seemed, they acknowledged their mutually sinful desires. Devil-inspired maybe? This was definitely not the place for any Christian to be. Sammy’s hand moved across Tristan’s lap and his fingers pressed directly against Tristan’s bulging erection, openly caressed him for the very first time.

“Ahhhhhhh …” moaned Tristan, as if this simply opened the floodgates between them.

Tristan turned and began to kiss Sammy, directly mouth-to-mouth — his own hand reached across to press the back of Sammy’s head together with his, as their tongues began to intertwine like wriggling serpents.

They kissed for several long minutes, exploring each other’s mouths, as the droning beat continued the thump in their ears. It was as if, both had waited a lifetime for this moment. Their intimacy was suddenly broken, with the reappearance of the Talker, as he stooped down to their head level, from behind the couch to whisper in their ears.

“Such a delicious deviant kiss! Surely the Kiss of Sin, won’t you say? So horny! I can see that it must be time to consummate your wickedness, and your sinful lust, and to liberate your sinning souls! Let go of your Abrahamic god — for he only hates faggots, queers, and sodomites. It’s time to embrace your love of cocks — and be one with your Black Devil!”

The Talker’s body stocking was completely gone. They could now see his slender, hairless torso and rippling abs. His dark skin seemed to have a shine as if covered in baby oil. He removed his top hat to reveal an impressive pair of pointed horns — that seemed to be conjoined to his forehead. His stiff black cock was now on full display. It appeared huge in comparison to either of the young Christian boys. If he wasn’t the Devil — he certainly appeared to be everything that their Christian upbringing had taught them to expect as the Devil and more.

”Dive into the dark pleasures of the Carnival of Sin,” groaned the Devil, “Here we know no bounds, no limits. Undress yourselves by little ones. Join my ceremony with my cock-loving demons! Gogo-A-Demon is not a dance to be watched but is a dance to be performed! It is the dance of demon sex. Of cock. Of anus. Of fellatio. Of sodomy!”

Their eyes were drawn back to the demonic freaks on stage. They were all thrusting their bony hips back and forth towards Tristan and Sammy, like an open invitation to join with them — urging their sexual participation— as they began to imitate ass-fucking as they mutually masturbate one other … their carnal dance of lust had only just begun.

Eagerly, Tristan and Sammy undressed. They’d never seem each other naked. But it didn’t seem awkward — it felt arousing. Their cocks stood rampant and both drooled with strings of clear precum. They both hypnotically stepped forward onto the low stage. They kissed again but this time, pressing their wet swords together, as they embraced each other’s nakedness … and embracing their unnatural lusts.

The demon freaks pressed around them in a tight circle. Groaning collectively, their wet cocks drooled with slimy precum, as they began to frot urgently against the kissing couple.

“My nigger demons! Praise be to their sins of the flesh! … Let it be a celebration of cocks. Of anuses. Of fellatio!” cried the Devil, who began to stroke his enormous black cock as he watched the two young Christian boys sandwiched together among his half-and-half demons.

Tristan and Sammy were both pressed down to their knees. Naked and excited before the demon freaks. They each took two cocks in their hands, as they began masturbating them, licking them frantically, and sucking hungrily … as if their very lives depended upon it.

“Prepare them well,” cried the masturbating Devil, “So that we may enlighten them with the ultimate of sins … of their seeding through demonic sodomy!”

The demon freaks lifted young Sammy in the air. Despite their thin, shapeless bodies, they were deceptively strong. Sammy looked back at where the couch had been — instead it appeared more like a huge throne — and seated upon it was the Devil himself. Evil incarnate. His black cock stood perfectly upright like a pole of throbbing flesh rising up from between his thin, but muscular, black thighs. It appeared to be a cubit in length and its ugly fat head oozed with translucent slimy precum.

“Come, mount me! Now! Worship me! Show the Devil your devotion!”

Sammy, though highly aroused, became somewhat anxious. The Devil’s cock was simply too big. That black thing would split him in two! He began to struggle against the demon freaks — who continued to bring him forward despite his misgivings.

“No! No! I can’t! No! Stop!” he cried desperately.

“Then let me,” said Tristan, who’d been watching the ordeal.

Tristan stepped forward.

“Ah, the offer of sacrifice for your secret lover! How perfectly honorable. Come then, take his place!”

Without the assistance of the demon freaks, Tristan quickly climbed up upon the armrests of the giant throne. Once his body stood prone and upright in front of the Devil, the Devil leaned forward. The black Devil caressed Tristan’s little-boy-cock, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking his entire cock and balls in one mouthful between his black lips!

“Aargghhh” groaned Tristan as he held onto the Devil’s horns in both hands.

The Devil gripped Tristan around his waist and lifted his weightless body up and over his giant black cock.

‘Aaarghhhh …” cried Tristan again.

This time, Tristan grimaced, as the first few inches of the Devil’s cock penetrated him, stretching his virgin sphincter around its thick pulsing girth.

The demon freaks pressed young Sammy forward on his kneels between the spread thighs of the Devil, pressing him to lick the Devil’s cock from below as it slowly began to penetrate his lover, Tristan. His small fingers cradled the Devil’s heavy balls, as his mighty cock sank further and further into his friend’s guts.

The Devil’s cock was almost halfway inside the young boy, who sobbed in anguish as he slid further and further down its veined length. The Devil began to kiss his mouth, forcing his forked tongue inside Tristan’s mouth — gagging him — as he started to move in and out, slowly at first, but increasingly thrusting upwards into the boy’s bottom — harder, faster, and deeper with every movement.

Copious juices flowed down between their legs and into Sammy’s mouth — a potent mixture of cock slim and ass juice — as he slaved over the Devil’s exposed cock shaft and heavy testicles.

That was when something magical began to happen. Sammy looked up at his friend, Tristan, as he rode the Devil’s cock. Tristan’s face was no longer a grimace of pain and suffering. Instead, he began to cry out in demented pleasure.

“Arghh … Fuck me! Dark Lord! Fuck me harder!”

xxxxx

ACT ONE (873 WORDS)

It was already long past midnight. Halloween was about to begin. Silhouetted against the low full moon, the Big Top loomed across the horizon line as it waited on the town fringe. An evil circus of various grotesqueries lay awaiting its faux-naif audience. A thick fog blurred the glow from the gaudy funfair illuminations against the distinctive outline of the old Ferris wheel and squalid sideshows. The night mist hung, like a spider’s web, strung between the canvas structures and the surrounding leafless trees.

The wind was still and the all-to-familiar organ-grinding sounds of the immoral amusement park echoed eerily in the early autumn air. The fairground emitted its sickly-sweet, candy flossing. An offering of cheap thrills. Beneath this, was an undertone of something gross, sordid, and distasteful — some may even say insidiously wickedness — even the fresh paint was a poor disguise for the dilapidated enclosures, amusements and sideshow trailers. If their rusty hinges and heavy bars could tell their story – it would be one of an eternity of devilishness.

At the fairground gateway, a motley crew of men and women, some with young children in tow, began to gather impatiently outside the main entrance to the grubby, old red and white candy-striped Big Top — waited for it to open with much anticipation — while the tattered billboard announced that they had arrived at the “Carnival of Sin”.

With a great horned fanfare, almost out of thin air, a bizarre, harlequin-like figure appeared at the tent entry. He wore a tightly fitted black and red outfit, bulging groin, and white pantomime make-up. He grinned broadly at the crowd with a wide overbite. With great exaggeration, he bowed, with his hat scooping across the ground in front of him, to his attentive audience.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Indulge in the secrets of the Carnival of Sin. Our grand opening night performance is about to commence. The one-night-only show awaits you all. You won’t find fire-eaters, fortune-tellers, or a trapeze, but I assure you all — you won’t be disappointed!”

With a simple gesture of his hand, the heavy, tent canvases pulled magically aside, with the sound of a roaring lion, that echoed in the still night air. The tent entry was like a black gaping hole, growling like an empty stomach, waiting to swallow the anxious crowd, as they began to push and shove through the narrow opening.

Were they like lambs to the slaughter? Or were they there to do the slaughtering? Did they secretly delight at the prospects of the sinister offerings that lay inside its darkened interior? Did they all embrace the unholy and pornographic delights that awaited their deviant tastes?

Almost inaudible sounds began to fill the night air, as the eager patrons stepped beyond the threshold into the Big Top – strange whispers that echoed in the darkness — whispers of corruption, obscenities, and sexual perversities.

The gathering of the invited, all clutching their tickets, began to take their places in the numbered rows of cheap folded chairs. The seating rose progressively upwards in three tiers, arranged in a tight semi-circle around the dimly lighted centerstage. Everyone would have an unobstructed view. The dark tent emitted an odor, similar to that of a dirty urinal mixed with animal droppings, that seemed to mask something even baser — however, the crowd seemed oblivious to the stench of rot and decay.

Then, finally, with everyone seated, the heavy canvas curtains closed out the night sky forever. With the pensive roll of the drums, within a narrow beam of light, appeared the solitary figure that took center stage. It was Carnival’s Ring Mistress. The stripped top hat, bullwhip, and long black tails, were an obvious cliché. But, as the figure looked up, it was the pale complexion of a young feminine face that captured the eyes of the audience.

The heavy stage makeup accentuated her piercing eyes and the blood-red lips glowed from the saliva of her tongue as she licked them. Between her tailcoat and high-cut riding boots, she is unashamedly naked. She tapped her ominous-looking bullwhip across her palm. All eyes seem to be drawn from fist-sized breasts and skin-toned nipples, downwards to a hairless penis hanging between her spread legs.

A collective gasp from the audience!

“Welcome, one and all!” announced the Ring Mistress, “Welcome to our audience of true sinners,” she said, “The Carnival of Sin awaits you all with its delicious carnal delights! Inside her darkened tents and sideshows, things are not as they seem. Is it your vivid imagination or just smoke and mirrors? Do you believe in the power of black magick? Let us find out, as we guide you, through an evening of voyeuristic pleasure – a libertinage of delights for all bizarre tastes and persuasions.”

The audience seemed to be on the very edge of their seats. All nervous from the anticipation. All horny as hell. Is this what they came for? Eager to sate their darkest desires! The Carnival of Sins made no excuses for her inference of dark sexuality — this was no show for the faint-hearted or the religiously inclined — this was only intended for the eyes of the wicked, who had come for their perverted gratification.

xxxxx

HALL OF MIRRORS (1,466 WORDS)

“Dare. Double Dare. Kiss. Command. Or Promise?” — it was a game that Lucy played when she was very young – and here she was again, in the last of her teens, being taunted by her usual girlfriends. She held tightly to her lucky ticket, and with it, she’d been dared to enter the Hall of Mirrors. Hesitantly, she had accepted the challenge – thinking this would be an easy task, compared to other tasks, she could have dreamt up.

It was getting late and she was at the end of her patience with the dilapidated old theme park. All the attractions were either run down or somehow broken. She remembered how she hated clowns and circuses in general. She hated the predictable scares of the haunted house or that nasty dizzy feeling from the twisting-and-turning show-rides. She would rather be at home listening to the radio, anything but this.

But, once inside the Hall of Mirrors, she felt relieved to be away from the taunting shrieks of her so-called friends. It would not take long she thought. How difficult could it be? As she moved deeper into the maze of mirrors, the laughing and shouting voices of her taunting friends began to disappear. It was very quiet and very dimly lit.

Everywhere she looked there were mirrors and more mirrors. From the outside, the Hall of Mirrors looked so small and insignificant, but once inside the illusion of depth seemed to be completely warped. Some mirrors made her look fatter; some made her look shorter; some grotesquely distorted her face. She laughed nervously to herself.

After a short while Lucy began to get a little frustrated. It seemed to be never-ending. She would turn a corner expected for this mirrored hell to end, and she would find more mirrors. It twisted and turned without any conclusion. In the corner of her eye, she thought she caught a glimpse of someone else, as a shadow. She turned three hundred and sixty degrees. Nothing.

For some unexplainable reason, Lucy felt that she was not alone in this endless labyrinth – as if she was being constantly watched. At first, it was a horrible eerie feeling. She was scaring herself, she thought. Alone in the dark, she was beginning to act, like a nervous kid again.

She stopped and looked at herself in the semi-darkness. Without consciously thinking about it, she ran her hand over the front of her tiny blouse and squeezed her nipples making them erect beneath the thin fabric – as she did this, the eeriness seemed to change to a faint, but distinctive, sensation of voyeurism.

She touched herself again, but this time, she put her hand inside her blouse and watched herself fondling her perky braless breasts. The mirrors gave her an excellent view of her autoeroticism and as she touched herself more and more, the fear altered to a feeling she could only describe as approval and encouragement.

She continued to walk around the next mirrored corner with her hand still inside her top, watching herself as she walked slowly in the darkened maze until she entered a completely circular room of mirrors. The sensation of being lost, gave way to being invited inside a secret inner sanctum, as if she had been drawn to this clandestine mirrored lure.

Emboldened by a strange sense of disembodied appreciation of her frisky foreplay, she lifted her top and stared at her naked breasts. They weren’t big, but her bullet-shaped nipples looked hot. The immediate endorphin rush made her pussy drip with wetness as if the mirrored walls themselves were begging her for more.

As a young child, she had often performed her perverted little shows in front of her dressing mirror – fantasizing as she masturbated with various objects that she had kept in an old shoe box hidden at the back of her wardrobe.

They had started quite innocently enough, but given plenty of opportunity alone, she soon discovered her rather deviant tastes. One of her favorites was to piss over her fingers and then rub them over herself as she danced provocatively and masturbated in front of her full-length mirror.

As she looked up again, she found her eager hand was already between her sticky thighs. Her short little skirt was up around her waist and she had two fingers deep inside her dripping-wet vagina. She watched herself, as she slowly and deliberately drew them out and brought them to her mouth in a self-teasing way.

The hairs stood upright on the back of her neck as the sensation of being watched from all angles, by dozens of hungry and perverted eyes edged her to do it. The self-consciousness that this created was freaking her out, but at the same, she couldn’t remember a time she had been so turned on about watching herself do these lurid things.

She remembered how she had secretly rebelled against her strict religious upbringing – being warned that to touch yourself was an awful sin against Almighty God, against Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. After being told this in church sermons and by their stern priest in confession, she began masturbating as often and for as long as she could.

Lucy continued to watch herself as she sucked her nasty coated fingers, savoring the taste of her cunt juices as she imagined doing it with her younger sister. She stuck out her tongue and watched herself as if caught in a harlot’s tongue kiss with her non-consensual sibling.

Sometimes she imagined doing it to her, whilst she slept or on other occasions. She imagined her sister, Lilly, bound to the bedposts as she incestuously ravaged her naked body. It was a fantasy she indulged herself on many occasions – only this time, as she moaned out loud, it was as if every reflection of herself also moaned at the same time.

She remembered that precise moment. It was as fresh in her mind, as if it had happened only a minute ago. She’d just turned seventeen at the time. Was that number significant? Looking at the sweet youth, nobody would have suspected her disgusting fantasies — and that night, after everyone was fast asleep, she had performed her black mass in the moonlight. She’d masturbated with her mother’s crucifix and sucked a pair of Lilly’s soiled panties, as she prayed to Satan himself.

With every progression of Lucy’s sordid private show, the inner sanctum mirrored her actions, but not only reflected, they seemed to amplify her perverse fantasies. She loved the elevated sensation. Lucy discarded her clothing and thrust her cunt back and forth as she masturbated furiously as she voyeuristically watched herself performing in the mirrors.

Her hand snaked behind her to dig into her dirty little anal, rubbing her fingers and then bringing a slimy brown digit to her nose. Her tongue flicked across the shit stains and then she rubbed them over her stiff nipples. She loved the smell of her ass-cream.

Her thoughts flicked back to the day when she prayed to Satan to allow her to seduce her baby sister. Incest was such a turn-on and seducing Lilly made her feel like a deviant sexual predator – which turned her on the most. She had urinated over the pages in her bedside bible, masturbating with the “Body of Christ” that she had stolen from communion specifically to use in her nasty little ritual.

Each progressively dirtier thought created spasms of progressively increasing pleasure. They hit Lucy like lustful waves on the beach, from her head to her toes, like a rollercoaster of multiple full-body orgasms.

The inner sanctum reeked of wickedness, as she watched her thirteen reflections in the multiple mirrors perform their filthy rituals, each with a vision of her young sister – they were her more bizarre fantasies playing out in front of her. All the things she had dreamed of doing to small children, both girls and boys – fucking them with huge dildos and ribbed strap-ons, drenching them in her urine, defecating directly in their small upturned mouths as they cried and screamed for mercy. It was a pervert paradise.

As quickly as this overwhelming sensation had come it suddenly and abruptly stopped. Lucy found herself standing and looking into a single mirror. She was fully clothed; as if nothing had transpired from the moment she first walked into the Hall of Mirrors. The young voice of her kid sister, Lilly, called for her.

“Lucy? Lucy, where are you? They all want to go and you’ve been in here too long? Can we go now?”

Lucy turned as Lilly rushed to her side, hugging her around the waist.

“There you are. I was getting scared, Lucy. The others said there were monsters in here?”

Suddenly, for little Lilly, it all went dark.

xxxxx

ACT TWO (1,243 WORDS)

“Welcome, one and all!” announced the Ring Mistress with much pomp and ceremony, “The Carnival of Sin awaits you. Here, inside her darkened tents, things are not always as they seem. Is it your vivid imagination, or smoke and mirrors, or is it something more sinister? Do you believe in demons, voodoo, and black magic?

“Unzip your pants and loosen your belts. Masturbation, here, is mandatory! Young and old, grip your cocks, and finger your cunts — Call me your Masturbatrix — as I guide you through a night of edging to a feast of dark and deviant thrills for your voyeuristic pleasure. Tonight, we take you on a masturbatory journey of libertinage, throughout the dark ages.”

The deviant transsexual begins to absent-mindedly play with her soft cock. It didn’t take long before it was a rigid pole of throbbing flesh. Her elegant fingers slid up and down its veined length, as precum drooled from its tip, encouraging her audience to follow in her perverted example.

“And tonight, for our mutual pleasure — we present our opening act — where we will take you back to the dawn of existence. To the birth of Original Sin. By special request, we give you — The Libertine Garden.”

A young man let out a yelp of joy. Others turned in their seats to see the smug young man’s wicked grin. It seemed he’d dreamt many times of the Libertine Garden. Then, all of a sudden, the sounds and aromas of a dense tropical rainforest began to fill the darkened tent — a bizarre mixture of anxiety and excitement filled his perverted heart as they were all plunged into almost complete darkness.

As the shabby crushed velvet curtain lifted away, the scene that be-fronted then was one of a darkened jungle undergrowth. The primordial garden — was this the mythical state of perfection? Or rather, the setting for the corruptive and libidious sins of the serpent?

The monochromatic profiles of a single man and a single woman were visible against the spill of light across the murky backdrop as they stand either side of the knotted and twisted vegetation.

“The Libertine Garden. It is an ancient story, but one that needs to be told — in all its truth — not from the Abrahamic book of lies — but from the perspective of our shameless provocateur, the Horned Serpent. Not a cunning and deceitful creature, as Christians would have you believe, but a nurturing and insightful teacher. As Adam and Eve dwelled in the primal world, so did they finally discover its Tree of Knowledge,” narrated the Masturbatrix.

Her pale fingers glided slowly up and down the ten inches of her rigid cock-flesh. The audience too, seemed equally animated and the sounds of wet flesh echoed the Ring Mistresses’ masturbatory movements.

The stage began to fill with warm, ethereal light, that magically transformed the silhouetted backdrop into a lush tropical moonlit night with speckled raindrops cascading from the brightness. Both iconic Adam and Eve remained inanimate yet naked, save for a small fig leaf covering their lower genitalia. Adam stood looking to one side of the Tree of Knowledge, while Eve looked towards the other— plumb, like statues, hardly aware of each other, the setting, or anything else.

The jungle-like trees were formed by the intertwined bodies of the performers — each was wrapped in translucent body stockings so their features were barely visible. Everything was formed from these human sculptures – creating a garden of trees and shrubs using their arms, legs and torsos twisted together.

A third character moved and twirled around the stage. A young, nubile feminine character, much younger and very slender compared to the more voluminous Eve. The character was covered in a sheer, snakeskin leotard, delicately dancing between the low-hanging branches and around Adam and Eve, who stood statuette-like, against the crooked tree. The slight bulge in the front of her groin said she was not entirely female.

Her delicate hand brushed against their near-naked bodies with obviously sexual undertones, firstly stroking Eve’s ample breasts, and up and down Adam’s upper thigh, almost but not quite touching beneath his modest fig leaf coverings. Despite the intensity of her sensual touch, there was no reaction to these advances.

“All was as it should be, until the night that the Horned Serpent tempted Eve. It was the Horned Serpent that first gave Eve, the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Carnal Knowledge – the key to unlock their consciousness and to awaken them from this inept, sleeping jungle garden.”

The nubile Horned Serpent character leaned in against her prey, whispering delicately into Eve’s ear, then placing the forbidden fruit across her palm. It was, of course, the Apple of Enlightenment. Eve looked down at the simple fruit and offered it to Adam, who took a bite and gave it back to Eve to do the same.

As they both bit the forbidden fruit, the lighting changed from its ethereal lightness to an ominous dark crimson. A strong pulsing tribal beat began to fill the recesses of the claustrophobic Big Top. All the trees and shrubs began to undulate back and forth — then began to come to life — tearing against their body stockings, until they revealed their naked forms, emerging around the primal couple.

“So, it was that Adam and Eve first tasted the forbidden power of Carnal Knowledge, the fire of lusty passion and pleasures of the flesh. But it was the Horned Serpent that did this, not because she wanted to set them free, but because the Horned Serpent desired the seed of Adam for her agenda. A secretive desire to spawn her own demonic young.”

The Horned Serpent quickly snatched away their fig leaves, exposing their, now excited genitals to the expecting audience. Adam’s cock instantly sprang to life, standing hard and erect against his belly. Equally, the Horned Serpent too — became as erect as Adam — her transgendered cock looked evilly huge against her small frame.

The audience collectively sighed of anticipation — all urging the perverted players to fornicate — for their voyeuristic pleasure.

The living foliage began to dance and conspire with the evil Horned Serpent as they gathered around the naked couple. Hands teased, touched, and masturbated them. Erect penises and wet cunts, frotted against them.

“As this ancient story of Genesis unfolds,” continued the Masturbatrix, “It was then, that God’s creation of the first man and the first woman saw what they had done —was it a fall from grace and perfection or was it the recreation of something even better? So, it was the Horned Serpent, who they called Lilith, that copulated with Eve …”

On the stage before the audience. The scene played out. The naked throng seemed to be in unholy worship — as the androgynous Horned Serpent’s cock penetrated Eve’s vagina as they tongue-kissed wildly. The other performers, overcome by the power of the Horned Serpent’s lust, mimicked its evil lust, fornicating wildly with each other.

“… Unsated with the first act of lust, the Horned Serpent then sought Adam to copulate anally with her — urging him to penetrate her anus, and giving him his first lesson in sodomy!”

Finally, Adam gripped the shoulders of the Horned Serpent. His cock was dripping with precum as he began to sodomise the Horned Serpent from behind – the three of them, locked together, thrusting lustfully back and forth like the centerpiece, in a bizarre orgy of cocks all pistoning between and into eager mouths, breasts, hands and rectums.

xxxxx

CONTORTIONIST’S DELIGHT (2,451 WORDS)

Father Bryon looked around to see if he was being observed. The shadows were deep and the carnival tents obscured the line of sight. He certainly wasn’t the only patron at this strangely perverted place — but everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Even dressed in his priestly collar, nobody seemed to notice or care about his presence. Honor among thieves?

He eyed the attraction that drew his attention. Weird but exciting. Contortionism. The Devil Twins. Double the contortionism. Double the temptation. What was it about contortionism that inspired his erotic thoughts? Was it the ability to manipulate the body in unusual ways that could be seen as both a display of power and vulnerability?

He stepped through the narrow doorway. The painted demons upon the walls advertised unnatural delights. The door seemed to close behind him by unseen hands. He didn’t give it another thought as the dark show was about to begin. But it seemed it was for an audience of one — just him.

The dancing twins appeared from behind a curtain. They were both dressed in almost see-through harem costumes, that reminded the good Father of Arabian prostitutes he’d seen in his travels. He could see their small breasts and hard nipples, and looking down between their legs, he could even see their overly hairy cunts.

”Don’t be coy now, Father … please take a seat,” said the first twin, with her strong Middle Eastern accent.

Well, he’d waited a long time for this. And his expectations made him quiver. The door was locked and private. Nobody was going to walk in on him or observe his awkwardness. He loosed his collar. The private show began.

The music was raw. A simple drum beat with the jingling of a tambourine. The little bells of their costumes made an interesting addition as they swung back and forth. Their movements were very exotic.

”Oh, my dear Lord,” gasped the bearded Father Byron.

The sensual movement of the rubber-like contortionists mesmerised him. The combination of fluidity, grace and energy, was matched by their hypnotic undulations, tracing smooth, serpentine arcs that rippled through their torsos. The subtle choreography of their chest, shoulders, and arms added layers of elegance, with the fluid wave-like gestures contrasting with moments of sudden, jerkingly, sharp isolation in their limbs. He’d always envied those with flexibility — as he’d had a secret wish to be able to suck his cock — but alas, he found it an impossibility.

Without even thinking about it, he found himself excited. His cock began to swell inside his robe. He discreetly began to rub himself through the course material. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by the two twin performers. They seemed to be more emboldened by his obvious masturbatory enjoyment. They became more vigorous, more sensuous, more daring. Their bodies bent and twisted in completely unnatural movements. For a moment he’d forgotten that they were both contortionists. They could probably do many things that others could not with their divine twin bodies.

”You like what you see, Father?” asked the second twin.

Father Byron made the sign of the cross but also nodded in agreement.

Their eyes held a seductive, almost trance-like gaze, drawing Father Byron into their mysterious allure. The undulations of their groins suddenly became the focal point, as they both thrust their hips, back and forth, with their strange athletic movements that perfectly matched the pulse of the music. The shimmering fabrics, beads, and coins of the girls’ meagre costumes, caught the light, accentuating each movement, making every gesture feel like a part of their insidious seduction.

As the first twin bent backwards, her costume seemed to open in the front, exposing her hairy cunt — it looked wet and her labia looked inflamed with lust — her head appeared between her legs, then turned, not only backwards, but upwards, until she was licking her pussy in the most perverted manner. Father Byron could only gasp and rub himself faster as he watched her self-cunnilingus. It looked profane. Unholy. Disgusting. But still, he could not look away. The second twin bent even further so that she was lapping her pierced tongue, rimming her exposed anus.

”If you like our show, Father, why not take your cock out and rub it properly? Show us how you’re enjoying our show!” suggested the first twin.

Father Byron tenuously lifted his robe above his waistline. His face was flushed with nervous excitement. Oh, unholy things, he thought, but didn’t cease his actions. He was without any underwear. He did as she suggested. Father Byron’s modest cock was already dripping with precum as he watched the antics of the perverted twins. His fingers gripped his meat tightly as he fervently masturbated to the same rhythm as the twin dancers.

Was it his imagination — were the eyes of the painted red devils, on the wall around him, all watching him? Gloating at his sinfulness … willing him to join their pervert fun. Funny, he thought — It was only a momentary thought and he wasn’t completely sure — but he didn’t remember demons being depicted fisting their erect cocks in the act of unholy masturbation.

The twins both lay on the carpeted floor before him. They began licking each other with gusto, in the most incredulous way, contorting their limbs in seemingly impossible formations, as they both sucked each other’s hot cunts. The lecherous old priest was shaken and his breathing became labored and heavy watching the twins performing their sinful act.

The twins stood up and came to stand around him. Their evil grins emboldened him. They began to help him out of his awkward robe until he was completely naked. One of them gripped his cock flesh and began to massage his priestly rod. The other gripped his oily hair, pulling to her, as she hungrily kissed his mouth. The first twin pressed him to his knees and began to rub her greasy cunt lips over his bearded face.

“Taste to juices of a demon … come Father … pray to the devil with your tongue in my hot cunt … you may be surprised at how his temptations can grant dark wishes …”

Father Byron wasn’t exactly sure about what the girl meant, but he lent forward, eagerly lapping at the sourish flavor of her wet cunt lips. Her hands pressed his head harder against her throbbing groin as his tongue worked feverishly. He heard her whisper something that he only could imagine to be an enchantment — finding immediately that he was able to reach further inside her … as if his tongue were unnaturally long. She chanted again. His tongue seemed to just further, deeper. Soon she was gasping. More oily secretions flowed into his mouth — too much to swallow — as she began to squirt and orgasm.

“See, your new god is very pleased!” she laughed.

His eyes glanced around the painted walls of the trailer. Again, he wondered if the images changed. The painted devils seemed engrossed in contorted forms. Some masturbated, whilst others were self-sucking their elongated penises, and others engaged in the most unholy of positions — as they seemed to be depicted sodomizing each other.

”It’s time, Father, for our finale!”

Each of the twins grabbed something from beyond the priest’s vision. Father Byron watched them don their dildo-like contraptions, pressing one end of the double-ended contraptions into their dripping cunts, whilst the other stood upright as if they both had erect cocks.

”Come Father, get on your hands and knees, give thanks and pray to your new god,” ordered the first twin.

Father Byron seemed breathless and a little overwhelmed. He was still on his knees and then his palms fell to the floor. Though it would have felt awkward, it seemed his body was strangely more limber. The girls giggled and gripped him tightly from both the front and the back. The first twin pressed her strap-on cock into his mouth, forcing him to suck it like a cock. Her hands gripped him tightly in front so that he had no way of avoiding this predicament. To Father Byron’s surprise, he didn’t gag and found her cock thrusting down his throat with ease.

Meanwhile, the other twin pressed her thighs behind him so that her strap-on cock rubbed between the cleft of his anus — the fake cock felt smooth as the first couple of inches slipped inside, opening up his brown flower.

“Worship your lustful god! Give yourself completely to him!” cried the first twin as her cock pressed unforgivingly down his throat, “Suck me, you Christian faggot!”

Not wanting to be outdone, the other twin pressed her strap-on hard against the priest’s tight, anal sphincter. Father Byron’s mouth was over-stuffed with fake cock, and he could only make faint gurgling sounds, as the thick anal intruder began to penetrate his virgin bowels.

He’d expected it to be painful. Even excruciating pain or burning like the fires of hell. But his anus seemed to open as the demon cock punched his rectum, raping his rear, and driving upwards inside of him. At the same time, his throat seemed to adapt to the brutal force of the other demon cock fucking his throat, the two evil twins laughed, as they continued to spit-roasted him. Was it his imagination? It felt surreal. He no longer felt their demon cocks as strap-on — they seemed more like cocks made of flesh and blood.

The evil, painted cock-demons that filled the walls of their wagon, seemed to be screaming blasphemously. Alive with perverted energy, as they too, thrust back and forth, in and out — piston-like — all the same rhythm as the contortionist twins.

xxxxx

Father Byron felt adrift — a body not quite his own, a throat stretched wide with the cock of blasphemy, an anus impaled by lust and punishment. His head rocked back and forth with each thrust, and the twin in front gripped his cheeks, smearing her slick juices along his beard.

“You’ve become our satanic prayer, Father,” she hissed, barely a whisper, “Our holy relic of perverted sin.”

From behind, the other twin moved faster, harder, her cock sliding deeper as if it sought his soul through the root of his spine. White flashes! The friction ignited something monstrous inside him. There was no pain now — just heat and the deep throb of pressure mounting into unbearable pleasure.

“Take it! Worship the cocks of Satan!” groaned the twin in his throat, “Take it and know your pathetic faith is over.”

He gagged. Not from pain, but from the realization that he wanted this. That it was the first time in years — perhaps ever — that something sacred had been truly inside him. Not God. Not virtue. But this: a violation so total it became a kind of evil rebirth.

The twin behind him snarled as she came, a burst of hot, viscous fluid — not fake, not rubbery — spilt into him. The strap-on had become something else. Something alive. And as she thrust her demonic cock deeper, her hips trembling, he felt the warm pulse of it against his inner walls — she didn’t stop.

Nor did the twin at his mouth, who groaned with animalistic joy as he sucked her, letting her seed — salty, sour, like rusted wine — pool against the back of his tongue. Was he still on his knees? He didn’t know. He was shaking. Moaning. His cock had long since exploded, cum dripping in thick ropes onto the rug below him, glistening like sacrament upon an unholy altar.

Then they pulled out — He collapsed, trembling. His hole was raw and pulsing. His throat ached and stretched. But there was no blood. No shame. Only the thick scent of sweat, sex, and something older — incense made from desecration — the twins circled him, stroking his body, cooing over him like witches nursing a dying man back to life.

“You’ve tasted the sacrament,” said the first twin.

“You’ve given your body to Satan,” added the second.

He looked up. Eyes glazed. Lips smeared with cunt and cock.

“What … what now?”

The first twin crouched before him and placed her sticky fingers in his mouth. He sucked them without question.

“Now you join us,” she said, “Fully. You are no longer Father Byron. You’re what remains after the collar is burned and the book of God is pissed on.”

The second twin returned, carrying something — a bronze basin filled with a dark, shimmering fluid. Black. Thick. Smelling faintly of copper and myrrh.

“You will be bathed,” she said, smiling, “In the Waters of Satanic Reversal.”

They poured it over his head. It was warm and oily. It soaked into his skin with unnatural speed. His flesh tingled, and his muscles trembled. He felt something inside him shift — his bones realigning. His tongue, still elongated from the prior enchantment, slithered against the roof of his mouth like a restless serpent.

The twins chanted in a language he did not recognize — old, pre-Christian, filled with sharp consonants and writhing vowels. Their hands moved over his chest and thighs, smearing the liquid into sigils.

His body began to glow. Not with light, but with reception. He was open. Ready. They pressed him down again — not in violence, but in reverence.

“You will rise, but not as a man. Not as a priest. You’ll rise as our Satanic Saint.”

He didn’t fight it. He couldn’t. The black liquid soaked his mind now, blanketing the last of his doctrine, his shame, his fragile identity. His limbs lengthened slightly. His spine became more elastic. His skin softened and his cock — once modest — now throbbed with demonic vigor. The first twin kissed it.

“Welcome in the flesh of the Carnival of Sin.”

Then came the laughter. Low. All around him. Not cruel — celebratory. The walls of the wagon began to pulse, like breathing skin. The painted demons moved again, this time alive. One of them stepped forward — a goat-headed figure with breasts and a huge, erect cock encircled by two serpents — and gave him a look of paternal pride.

“You’ve done well, daughters,” it said in a voice made of thunder and dripping honey.

The twins bowed low. Father Byron — no longer quite human — looked up, eyes wide with the first pangs of something beyond understanding. The goat-demon reached down and placed a kiss upon his new saint’s brow.

“You’ll bring many into our garden,” the demon said, “You’ll be our preacher.”

His throat, now healed, let out a single word — not in English, not in Latin — but in the tongue of abomination. The twins echoed it. And outside, in the carnival fog, another soul approached the trailer. Another sinner. Another pilgrim. The door creaked open. The show was about to begin again.

xxxxx

THE GROUNDSMEN (216 WORDS)

The whining boys tried to escape but the ominous Carnival groundsmen held them firmly. They had pulled the two boys aside, dragging them kicking and screaming, to the underbelly of carnival backlots — out of sight of any of the guests.

“What do we ‘ave ‘ere?” said one of the larger ugly groundsmen to the two young boys who’d attempted to sneak into the back of the carnival fairground, “You shouldn’t be ‘ere unless you’re invited!”

“Look, Mister, we just wanted to look at the freaks!” answered the taller boy.

“Well, as I said … unless you’ve been specially invited.”

“Hey … just let us go. We didn’t mean any harm,” said the smaller boy.

“Nah, that’s not what we do with trespassers … at the Carnival of Sin,” the ugly groundsman bared his sharpened teeth, that had been filed down to sharp points. His mouth was already salivating at what they would do with the boys before their demise.

They’d stripped the boys naked and tied their struggling bodies between two of the strong uprights that served to support one of the big tents.

“No,” agreed the other, “We have our own ways of dealing with the likes of you.”

“And that means, we’re gonna ‘ave some fun … and we won’t go ‘ungry tonight!”

xxxxx

CARNIVAL OF SINS 2 — CONTINUES SOON …

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Be amazed! Be astonished! Ae in complete awe! Yes, be flabbergasted! Come and see the surprising Living Dolls — where you can be their puppeteer and make them do sinful things! … see the spectacular Satyress — she’s half beast but all woman! … and don’t forget our very own Fakir Snake Charmer — from the darkest continent of India, he charms Surasa, also known as the Snake demoness, for your amusement and pleasure!”

xxxxx

If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email xpanther2019@protonmail.com