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.

AUTHORS NOTES: I don’t know how many times I wrote and rewrote the synopsis on this one… but it’s taken a while (for some strange reason). Too many ways to go… I guess. Well, I was greatly inspired during the writing of this story, by the 1994 Roland Emmerich epic, Stargate, for two reasons. The first is, that I liked the early interplay leading up to the discovery of the Stargate by the character played by James Spader; and secondly, the adorable extraterrestrial parasite, played by Jaye Davidson (whom I have had a personal crush on him ever since; fuck, he makes me so horny).

STORY CODES: Blasphemy, Sacrilege, LGBT, WS, Scat, Supernatural, Demonic, Satanic, Abuse, Corruption, Evil, Devil Worship, Sexual Torture, NC, Pederasty, Sexual Sin, Sex Demons.

CREATED: 10.03.2018 / REVISITED: 20.07.2023

Death 1


Death is closely associated with the corruption of one’s own sexuality. Death, like perversity, changes a relationship (you cannot un-ring the bell). It is said that at the height of orgasm, we lose our conscious hold on reality and our ability to stop the inevitable. Like a roller-coaster reaching the point of no return at the apex before the plummet. What is inevitable is inevitable. So, we plunge downwards (out of control) into the world of perverted pleasure and feel its surge through us frenziedly. ‘La Petite Morte’ (French) translates literally to the ‘little death’ …. is it the brief loss or weakening of our restraint or is it beyond our ability to refuse its dark calling.

Death is the transformation, the end yet also the beginning. Death is the ultimate purifier. All things are reborn, but not necessarily purified. Death does not discern between age, race, gender, or sexual preference. Death is darkness and the absence of light. As the sun dies every night to be reborn every morning, it is the catalyst of a perpetual cycle. There can not be life without death. Death is ruled by Scorpio (the sign of sex and death) and the number thirteen, which is sacred to the Light Bringer as there are actually thirteen moons in every lunar year.


Samuel Montague is a young and impetuous university professor. He is an accomplished linguist and expert translator of ancient Sanskrit. He also harbors some proclivities toward sexual deviancies that he is yet to discover. Samuel finds himself in a difficult situation, as his university funding is being cut on account of his rather radical viewpoints. Meanwhile, in a remote monastery of the Dominican Brotherhood (and Sisterhood), they claim to have found the ‘Light Bringer’s Key to Divinity’ — through the unearthing of an ancient Sanskrit tablet. This tablet seems to defy chronology and the Dominican theologians believe that with the key that they will literally be able to open the ‘Doorway to Heaven’ itself.

It is an audacious claim. Almost blasphemous. But there is one problem … they still lack the final ‘Thirteenth’ sign to open the doorway. Against their better judgment, they reach outside their Order, to our protagonist, to solve the problem. Reluctantly, Samuel agrees to help, and upon investigation, he believed that they have found a doorway, but is not convinced that it is of heavenly ascent. As he decodes the tablet he becomes aware that it could be decoy and is in fact the opposite of what he initially believes the Order hopes it to be. Are their plans within plans? Is there darker agenda involved? He begins to believe that it’s in fact a sacred entry to the domain of the Light Bringer; which may be an evil place, tantamount to a demonic whorehouse of sexual perversity, torture, and eternal torment.



“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.” Isaiah 5:20

The lecture hall was half empty when he began his rather dull and erudite tutorial, and as the lecture continued past the halfway mark there were fewer than half a dozen hardened students left in the darkened lecture hall. The project blinked with slide after slide. By the time Samuel Montague had reached his conclusion, the bright young lecturer realized that he was all alone.

He half mumbled to himself and collected his scrappy notes together. It had been a lackluster semester, and his research papers had not been well received by the faculty. In fact, there had been strident criticism about the subject manner and about the opinions and conclusions that he had drawn. It was not a happy time in Samuel’s life right now. Things were looking bleak and he was not sure what he should do next. Life as an intellectual was not what he had imagined it to be and there seemed to be no end to the bureaucracy and red tape, let alone the skepticism of the credibility of his research work.

Samuel walked out of the hollow lecture hall. His footsteps reverberated as he left. Then the door banged and echoed behind him. Once he was out into the adjoining corridor, Samuel could see the melancholic pouring rain that fell, more like a deluge, beyond the glass doors. It reflected the way he felt about his situation. Heavy and grey, as the day. Just as he thought that things could not get bleaker, the ambient sounds were interrupted by the sound of an effeminate voice.

“Professor Montague.”

Samuel turned around to see a young man, of similar age. His head was shaven and he was dressed in a long drab-grey robe.

“Can I help you?” he answered.

“Please, excuse this intrusion … let me introduce myself, my name is Brother Erno of the Dominican Order. Professor Montague, I am here to offer you a job.”

“Please, call me Samuel .. and I already have a job,” replied Samuel.

“No Professor Montague, I know your situation better than you think. You have been evicted from your apartment. Your university funding is being cut off as we speak. And all you have in the world is in that leather portmanteau tucked under your arm.”

He was right. Samuel nodded silently in recognition of the truth of his rather bleak prospects.

“You seem to know a lot about me, Brother Erno?”

“Oh please forgive my abruptness.”


There was something androgynous about the monk that appealed to Samuel’s sexual tastes.

“You are a talent, Professor Montague. You really are. My colleagues and I at the Dominican Order have been watching you. We have been very impressed with your works and the extent of your theological findings. Frankly, we need your expertise and will pay handsomely for your help.”

The truth was that Samuel was miffed by this all. He’d been evicted from his flat. He had been turned down by the University Review Board for an extension of further research funding. He needed funding, but this was a distraction from his invaluable research. He must find a way to get back to his important studies.

“Look … I appreciate the compliments, but flattery aside, I don’t see how my line of research and knowledge base could possibly assist you and your Dominican Order?”

Young Brother Erno looked somewhat forlorn at Samuel’s lack of faith in his words. Samuel couldn’t help but feel emphatic towards him … maybe the sexual attraction he felt towards this young man was clouding his decision-making over this matter. Samuel shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to be rational about things right now. The monk cleared his throat and looked desperate to get Samuel’s agreement to his proposal.

“It would be just a translation exercise, Professor Montague. Pure and simple. The funds would enable you to continue your important research … it would be a brief interlude. We need your discerning eye to translate an ancient Sanskrit tablet that is in our possession. Your opinion will be invaluable to us and time is of the essence. Again, you will be well rewarded for your time and effort … what have you got to lose Professor?”

Brother Erno extended his hand, in which he held out a small envelope. Samuel looked at it and then took the envelope. Inside he saw a check for twenty thousand dollars made out in his name.

“A down payment as you will. If you are able to translate the tablet, we will pay you another twenty thousand dollars.”

The eager young monk extended his right hand again, looking hopeful that Samuel would accept.

What did Samuel have to lose? He liked this priest. He pondered the Dominican Order’s proposal for a brief moment. He shook the hand of the monk and it was done.

They were to leave immediately.


The trip had been longer than he had expected. This place was almost inaccessible. The Dominican Order lived in a very remote monastery. Perched high on a rocky hill, Samuel peered upwards from the car window to glimpse its starkness against the surrounding bleak landscape.

It had been a balmy day, uncomfortably hot for a long car ride. He could smell the sharpness of his own body odor. He needed a shower. Samuel also felt very tired from it all. He yawned discretely. He really needed a more comfortable place to rest as the backseat of the old car was very awkward.

Brother Erno and his unnamed driver had said very little during the entire trip. Everything seemed so hush-hush. Samuel kept his thoughts to himself. Samuel’s mind had wandered half asleep and half awake as he pondered his situation. He could help but feel a strange horniness – holding his leather portmanteau over his lap, he hid his unexpected erection.

They arrived at the old monastery and got out. The car pulled away, leaving Brother Erno and Samuel inside the hall-walled monastery courtyard. There was no welcoming committee it seemed. By this time it was already dark outside. Samuel could only make out the darkened exterior of the surrounding stone buildings. Tall and windowless. Aged stone walls. Everything looked very old.

“Through here,” pointed the high-pitched monk.

Once inside the monastery, Samuel could smell a stall odor of piousness. It was good to stretch his legs and to ease the stiffness of the uncomfortable journey.

“Let me show you to your accommodation. You will meet the others first thing in the morning.”

Young Brother Erno had led Samuel through a small maze of narrow corridors until they arrived at an old wooden door. Brother Erno opened it and showed Samuel. The young monk’s expression was very apologetic.

“Sorry, Professor … It’s the best we have. It’s only for a brief stay …” he offered.

Samuel looked around. The room itself was rather bleak, lit only by candlelight. There were no windows and the starkness of it all was rather sobering. This was to be his accommodation at the monastery. As it was already very late, Brother Erno excused himself saying that he must go for ‘prayers’, leaving the tired but horny Samuel to his own thoughts.

What had he got himself into here? Was this like some kind of religious imprisonment? He had been outspoken about certain issues and had even accused some religious clerics of misinterpreting their scriptures. He didn’t give the ‘plot theory’ any credence.

Whatever it was, it was better than his prospects yesterday. Forty thousand bucks for translating some old tablet. Easy money. Samuel splashed his face with cold water in the humble fittings of what was to be his ensuite. The shower was nothing more than a naked tap in the dark stone wall and the bathroom towel was hard and rough against his skin. The candles flickered. This was definitely not the Hilton. He would do the work and get the hell out of here.

Samuel undressed, bathed, and climbed naked onto the narrow cot. He desperately needed to get some rest, but could not help but feel aroused. His mind imagined all kinds of strange fantasies about the sexual antics of wayward nuns, monks, and perverse clergy; against their forced religious piousness and doctrine that ran contrary to the baser human needs; creating the opportunity for sexual frustration to boil over into a reliquary of salaciousness and deviant sexual behaviors.

Yes, he thought as he began to touch himself. He wondered what the young monk looked like beneath his shapeless gown; what his cock and balls would taste like; what his holy little rosebud would smell like. Blood flowed rapidly to his swelling cock making him stiffen as hard as nails as he lay naked beneath the rough bed linen.

He turned over and tried to think about something else; anything else … he really needed to rest. Samuel usually experienced dreamless sleep. Even at the most extreme times of intellectual distress, he still slept like a baby. But there was something about this old creepy monastery. He found it difficult to fall. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an hour as his mind remained unsettled, jumping from one obscenity to another.

Why was he so inexplicably horny? The night continued to be hot and balmy. Soon he had kicked off the thin blankets completely and lay exposed upon the thin mattress. As he lay, half awake and half asleep, he could have sworn he heard voices; indistinct chatter; just not quite audible. Maybe the walls of the old monastery weren’t as thick as he thought. Maybe the sound carried through the walls? In the dull candlelight, it was easy to imagine all kinds of strange things. He got up from the bunk and drank from a large pitcher of warm water on the bedside table and then laid down again.

Rest finally took him. But it took him to an even stranger place. It felt bizarre. He saw himself laying in the narrow cot. He was looking down upon himself, like an out-of-body experience. He saw the candles flicker and he saw himself turning so that he lay upon his back. As he looked at himself, he could see that he was actually masturbating in his sleep. His eyes were shut, but his fingers eagerly glided up and down his engorged cock flesh. His outer body self watched like some kind of perverted voyeur.

He didn’t understand the strangeness of this vision that confronted him and didn’t know what significance it had, only that as his sleeping body began to buck violently on the edge of the onslaught of an enormous orgasm, he felt himself suddenly returning to his own sleeping form.

He immediately awakened unto his own self-induced ejaculation. Do it! It was as if the very walls of the cell-like room were urging forward as his fingers tightly gripped his cock and continued to pump himself over the edge of no return. Do it! His mind was alive with nasty thoughts of horny priests fucking each other … sacrilegious sodomy. His mind quickly turned to the delicious young androgynous monk.

He imagined Brother Erno’s cock in his open mouth. His lips drawn in a tight ‘O’ around the monk’s engorged blood-filled cock-head as it pumped his tainted seed into the back of his thirsty throat … Do it! Do it! Another emancipated-looking monk boy, forcing his hard wet cock into Samuel’s eager greasy anus … Oh! Perverted brotherly love.

Naked males and females danced provocatively as they shared a chalice of warm urine and menstrual blood, drinking from the piss-filled font in their devilishly perverted chapel. Others indulged in giving each other salty golden showers of sin … Do it! Do it! Shameless naked nuns dressed only in their wimples with obscene tattoos across their breasts and lower abdomens, masturbating each other with long black phallic candles.

There was a priesthood of cock suckers, not worshiping God, but worshiping a dark phallus … a Baphomet … Do it! Do it! Do it! Young altar boys, no older than ten or eleven years, all naked and obviously excited and erect, frantically masturbating themselves as they serviced the older nuns and monks …

“Aaaarghhhhhhh …” he cried out loud.

Samuel gasped for air. The salaciousness was so intense. FUCK! What a fucking powerful cum! He was trembling and quivering all over, from head to toe. He could never remember ever having such a strong orgasm in his entire life. Eventually, his breathing calmed down and Samuel sat up in the narrow cot. His entire upper body was drenched in the sticky aftermath of his sexual pleasuring. His watery semen was everywhere. Yes, oh yes … He laid back down and this time drifted off into a dreamless rest.



“If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.” Leviticus 20:13

The next morning, Brother Erno wasted no time in putting Samuel to task.

Without any clean clothes, he had donned the uncomfortable habit that they had provided for him. Samuel found the raw material far too rough and annoying for his delicate skin — but, with no choice, he would have to persevere. The young monk had brought him to a small room that resembled a library in the bowels of the old musky monastery.

Samuel could see there was much evidence of intellectual labor. Three elderly Dominican Brothers and one Sister were in deep discussion over something when Brother Erno and Samuel first entered. They all looked up over the piles of old leather-bound volumes, ancient sacred texts, and rolled parchment manuscripts that lay about. Upon a large wall-mounted blackboard a series of Sanskrit scribblings had been chalked with their supposed English language equivalents below.

“Brothers … Sister, I would like to introduce Professor Montague.” said the eager Brother Erno. “This is Brother Basilio, Brother Matthew, Brother Abele, and Sister Beatrice.”

“Brother Basilio, Brother Matthew, Brother Abele. Sister Beatrice,” said Samuel as he took each of their sweaty palms and briskly shook them.

“Professor Montague is the one we talked about and he is here to help us with the Sanskrit translation.”

“He looks a little young?” said Brother Basilio.

Samuel ignored his ignorant comment. His line of sight focused upon the Sanskrit Apocrypha that had been written up in white chalk across the wide blackboard. The English translation below it read — “The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. Bring forth your sacred offering to the Light. For the Thirteenth gate will open with the Key to Divinity and unleashes a great joy and wisdom for all kind.”

Samuel pondered it a brief while. He chucked to himself, at their inept and clumsy attempt at translation and took up the blackboard rubber and chalk.

“The first part of the inscription is in fact taken from Revelations 21:21. But the second and third sentences are more interesting … insidious almost … the symbolism is most deliberately set-up to be overtly ambiguous … with meaning inside of meaning … but it’s secret sentiment is unveiled by dropping the suffices … something like this …”

He began to rub out the portion of the transcription and rewrote the whole message as he spoke.

“Yes, it should read … Bring forth your sacred offering to the Bringer. No, the … ‘Light Bringer’ … For the Thirteenth Gate, leads to …”

Brother Abele jumped up to object to Samuel’s desecration of their hard work, but it was already too late as Samuel was already very animated as he quickly crossed through words and phrases in a corrective manner.

“It’s not about divinity, great joy, or wisdom at all … it’s the … The Thirteenth Gate leads to a place of blasphemous pleasures and sexual perversion … I think it must be some kind of ancient warming?”

“Demonic copulation? Idolatry? Fornication with demons?” stuttered the elder nun, Sister Beatrice.

“I’m not sure, Sister Beatrice. Not sure who this Bringer … or rather ‘Light Bringer’ is exactly?” replied Samuel plainly.

The elderly clerics looked stunned. Brother Erno just smiled enigmatically at Samuel.


It was a bit of a conundrum. What kind of research were these Dominican Brothers and Sisters into anyway? What was the warming about? The translation sounded like something from a B-grade horror movie… the kind where you can see that the demons are guys in rubber masks covered with paper-mâché horns. He was extremely horny again. Was he going crazy? He immediately thought of Derrida and Foucault, these damnable intellectuals upset him with their convoluted philosophic debate on ‘Cogito and the History of Madness’. He laughed to himself, but he truly was not sure about any of this.

It had been a strange day of coming to terms with the rather insular viewpoint of the Dominican Order. They asked all the wrong questions and consequently got all the wrong answers. It had been frustrating for Samuel. He lacked patience. His sexual arousal had also added to the strangeness of his circumstances. As he pondered the out-of-body experience of the previous night, Samuel found it difficult to ignore his rapidly increasing libido. Part of him kind of hoped it would happen again and part of him was almost terrified of it. It felt almost supernatural, unholy, and unclean, but equally exciting and invigorating. He was in two minds.

Samuel turned restlessly in his narrow bunk. Could his second night in the remote monastery be as perverse as the first? Was he going to have another outer body dream experience?

Almost instantly, the long white candles began to flicker vigorously as if a strong breeze had disturbed their light, yet there was no open window or draft. He had been thinking about the Thirteenth Gate. Actually, it had been difficult to think of much else. It was a puzzle begging to be solved. Who was the Light Bringer? The unintentional whispers of Sister Beatrice echoed in his mind “Demonic copulation? Idolatry? Fornication with demons?” He found these words of evil warning surprisingly exciting. His cock was instantly turgid.

Everyone had been seriously upset by his explanation, with the exception of the enigmatic Brother Erno. In sharp contrast, Samuel was sure he caught a wicked smirk on the young monk’s pretty face. It looked out of place. Sacrilegious even. Was he a secret deviant too? Samuel hoped so… Well, Samuel thought, he had only translated the Sanskrit Apocrypha accurately. Word for word. Blasphemous words all. He could hear himself talking to the Brothers as they all stood a gasp…

“The first part of the inscription is in fact taken from Revelations 21:21. But this second sentence is more interesting … the symbolism is most deliberately set up to be overtly ambiguous … meaning inside of meaning … but its secret sentiment is unveiled by dropping the suffices … something like this …”

He saw himself making the changes to their inarticulate scribbles (like a teacher correcting an inept pupil), that according to Brother Erno, had taken almost two years to get to. And here he was undoing everything in a matter of two minutes. How presumptuous they must have thought he was?

“Yes, it should read … The Thirteenth Gate leads to …”

He saw their hollow faces. They had been shocked. There was a genuine fear among them, especially Sister Beatrice (poor soul). Why?

“It’s not about divinity, great joy, or wisdom at all … the Thirteenth Gate leads to a place of blasphemous pleasures and sexual perversion … I think it must be some kind of ancient warming?”

He couldn’t help but imagine the horny young Brother Erno standing naked and masturbating before the perverted Sanskrit Apocrypha; licking his impishly grinning lips, praying to demons, pressing the phrases.

“Demonic copulation. Idolatry. Fornication with demons …”

He quivered all over and felt himself floating again.

He was looking down upon himself again, as he had done the night before. It was the same … but something was very different. Yes.

“The Thirteenth Gate,” he heard the words uttered from his own sleeping lips, “A place of blasphemous pleasures and sexual perversion.”

He was mumbling in his restlessness but the words were still very audible. He watched himself helplessly … awaiting to return to his own body … but he didn’t. Not straight away.

Samuel saw himself turn onto his back as he had done the night before, but this time his hands remained at the sides of his body … inanimate … while his erect penis twitched in search of secret pleasures.

“A place of blasphemous pleasures and sexual perversion …” he whispered in the flickering candlelight.

“Of blasphemous pleasures and sexual perversion …”

He heard an echo that did not belong to him. It was a much younger voice … the voice of a young child.

“Sexual perversion. Demonic copulation. Idolatry. Fornication with demons.”

The young voice chorused, almost caressing the words with a joyfulness that was filled with fervor and fever.

Samuel saw that his sleeping self was not alone in the dark candle-lit room. From the darkest of shadows stepped forward a young boy, no older than eleven or twelve years old. The boy was beautiful and very androgynous, with longish girly hair and smooth alabaster skin. He looked hauntingly perfect. Effeminate. The boy was dressed in a very short black tunic, fastened at his shoulders and open at the sides of his body. He saw himself comatose as the boy stood next to his own naked sleeping form.

“Sexual perversion. Demonic copulation. Idolatry. Fornication with demons …” repeated the boy.

The bay took hold of Samuel’s erect penis in one of his small hands, while the fingers of the other hand started to stroke Samuel’s perineum. Samuel saw his comatose body quiver in a curious new ecstasy.

“Aaaarghhhhh …”

He heard himself groan in appreciation of the boy’s masturbatory movements as his little fingers began to rub his loose foreskin back and forth as his fingers of the other hand cupped and caressed Samuel’s hairless balls.

“I am Virgil. I am a gift from the Light Bringer …” said the boy to Samuel, whose only reaction was more groaning and grinding of his bucking hips, “The Lighter Bringer says that the sign you seek is the Sigil of Ameth.”

Samuel had heard of the ancient Sigillum Dei Aemeth, and he knew that Ameth was the Hebrew word for the ‘Truth’.

The delicate young boy removed his tunic revealing that beneath it his youthful androgynous body. Samuel could see that the boy was as erect and as excited as the sleeping Samuel. His small penis was already dripping with beads of sticky fluids that glistened in the eerie candlelight. Samuel watched the young boy, Virgil, mount him, as one would a bucking steed.

His legs straddled Samuel’s comatose body, lifting his tiny backside over Samuel’s cock as it stabbed upwards … the boy expertly guided it against his rectum. Virgil seemed apt at doing this, and eager to get Samuel’s hard cock right up his anal passage. Sodomy. Sexual perversion. Fornication. Carnality. Pederasty. Sophrosyne boy love.

“Yes!” exclaimed Virgil.

He began to slide down the length of Samuel’s rigid member.


Just at that moment, Samuel felt himself falling back into his own corrupted body. No longer disembodied, he felt the lightness of weight of the young preteen boy on top of him. Virgil was tiny. Light as a feather. Rutting against him.

Samuel’s cock slid into his body, engulfed in perverted pleasure as he shamelessly impaled the boy, fucking his dick up the infant’s slimy ass passage. He felt the tightness of the boy’s rectum muscles as his eager cock continued to plow in and out, thrusting deeper with every stroke into the boy’s willing bowels. Oh! Delicious demonic copulation. Idolatry. Fornication with demons.

“YES!” Virgil cried as if he knew that Samuel’s soul and body had been reunited.

The hungry boy looked deeply into Samuel’s eyes, which were wide with surprise and bewilderment. This was something unexpected. A dream. A crazy dream … Of course as a pervert, he had imagined having anal sex with young boys on many occasions, but the sensations he felt were more realistic than any previous masturbatory fantasy. He always thought that it was OK to fantasize about such things, but in real life, he knew this behavior to be unacceptable… Taboo. Sinful. Sacrilegious. Punishable.

Maybe it was the dream-like quality that made it okay for him to continue and commit buggery with this pretty little child. A grave sexual sin. A mortal sin. But here he was in bed with a young boy, sodomizing him as hard as he could in the rear. Samuel’s heart was beating so hard against the inside of his rib cage.

He couldn’t remember a more exciting feeling. The boy’s anus gripped his member in a way that he had never experienced with any mere woman. It was as if the inner muscles of the boy’s shit tube were actually milking his balls. Samuel’s mind was filling with a powerful euphoria and then he felt the onslaught of an enormous rush.

“Ohhhhhh … FUCK!” Samuel moaned.

He bucked uncontrollably as his balls emptied into Virgil’s tight little ass. He was cumming … and cumming … and cumming … spurt after spurt after spurt … his mind lost in devilish pleasure … sweet anal delights … unholy … grievously shameful … In the same instance, Virgil rutted upon him and cried out in sheer rapture and delirium, reaching his own prostate orgasm … Virgil’s untouched cocklet sprayed Samuel’s face with copious amounts of fresh, sweet boy cum … these new sensations eclipsed anything he had experienced the night before. And then it was blackness. It was the last thing he remembered.



“Just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire.” Jude 1:7

The morning found Samuel completely drained.

His bizarre sexual dreams had greatly impacted him and his mind was also aware of the haunting reference to the Sigil of Ameth. The ancient Sigillum Dei Aemeth was so specific. Why does the Light Bringer want me to know this? He laughed at himself – as if the fantasy and reality were intermingled. Was this just his unconscious mind surfacing thoughts buried deeply in his consciousness… like solving the problem in his sleep?

Surely that was a more plausible explanation than some dream of a preteen pervert giving him the answer to the Dominican riddle and then deviantly riding his disdained cock into a cum-drenching orgasm. It had been a strange way that this puzzle had revealed itself. There was no premonition … no blasphemous supernatural intervention. So, he concluded that it was in fact his unconscious mind unraveling that which was not conceivable to his rational state … Then what is the dream of pederasty? He felt a little ridiculous and ashamed of himself; albeit excited at the sinful sensations he had experienced.

The Sigil of Ameth was the clue he had been looking for. They had reluctantly allowed him to view the actual Sanskrit Apocrypha tablet. Could there be a connection between his dream and this obscene object? More questions than answers, he thought. Samuel could only imagine the horror of the tablet’s dreadful purpose. Brother Erno had explained in enthusiastic detail that the tablet had been used as a satanic altar for the anal rape of young victims in human sacrifice.

Was the monk actually getting off on telling all of this? Samuel’s cock became hard as nails. It really made him wonder about Brother Erno as the young monk explained enthusiastically that the blood of innocence had been spilled for the pleasure of the Devil. The ancient stone tablet had been soiled in barbaric satanic-like rituals … It was evil and corruptive … but somehow, he also felt akin to the perverse pleasure in it all. As Samuel daydreamed, he saw the young monk naked and masturbating over the ancient tablet, spilling his seed purposefully over its surface to awaken its evil again.

Death. Blood and the Truth? The Light of the Truth? He had been shocked that the Brothers could have concluded anything divine from this repugnant symbol of complete evil.

The Dominican Brothers and Sisters, Brother Basilio, Brother Matthew, Brother Abele, and Sister Beatrice, were all gathered. They were arguing about something when Samuel entered the library. Brother Erno was the last to arrive.

“Sleep well?” inquired Brother Erno.

There was something in the way he casually brought up the subject that said he knew more than he should. Had he expected Samuel to find him attractive? Was he a kind of bate for a demonic trap? Had the scheming brotherhood planned it that way? Samuel immediately felt embarrassed despite the fact there was no way that the monk could know his wayward dreams.

“Err. Yes, I suppose. I was thinking about the Thirteenth Sign and the Sanskrit Apocrypha tablet … I believe we seek the Sigil of Ameth.”

“The ‘Truth’?” exclaimed an elated Brother Abele.

“Oh my goodness!” said Brother Basilio.

“But there’s no Thirteen Sign … No Sigil of Ameth, on the device?” exclaimed a frustrated Brother Matthew.

“What device?” asked Samuel.

“Well … I guess now we need to show Professor Montague the device,” conceded the reluctant Brother Erno, “But first, call our Abbott.”


Brother Erno escorted Samuel to another chamber that was even deeper inside the monastery. As they walked closely, Samuel felt the electricity of a sexual charge between them. Were they supposed to be lovers? The other Brothers and Sister Beatrice followed in close succession. This double-volume chamber was much bigger than the library or even the room in which they housed the Apocrypha tablet. The old stone walls seemed to be at their most dense here. They were a long way beneath the ground and it felt very warm and claustrophobic.

The chamber focused on a tall cylindrical object that faced upwards toward the high stone ceiling. The cylinder must have been over ten feet high. They had built a scaffold up around it on one side so that it could be viewed from above. The cylinder measured some three or more meters across with its walls half a meter. Inside it filled to the brim with a dark liquid that occasionally seemed to pour down the sides of the vessel.

The wet material finish of the cylinder was like nothing Samuel would have thought came from antiquity and its patterned surface was covered with exquisite Sanskrit symbology covering its entire circumference. Translating this, despite its elegance in design, the words were shockingly perverse and highly sexualized, in sharp contrast the Twelve Signs were clearly visible on the front of the cylinder. Now Samuel kept his thoughts to himself.

“We’ve been staring at the device for months. There was no Thirteenth Sign. There was no Sigil of Ameth,” stated Brother Basilio.

Samuel examined the device close-up. He ran his fingers over the wet finish of the embellished surface. What kind of device is this? What purpose could it possibly serve? Had the Dominican Order thought that it was some way to circumvent the process of death as a possible means to journey to the heavens above? To bypass the process of death itself? To reach the gates of Christian Heaven? To reach the Light Bringer? To reach God Almighty? … Was the Light Bringer another name for God? So, why then the warnings?

He studied the Twelve Signs enclosed in the interlocking hexagons, considering each and every one of them. He felt tired, so he rubbed his eyes with the back of his knuckles, enjoying the strong pressure over his sore eyelids. When he opened his blurry eyes again he noticed the hexagons converged … Then he saw it … He saw the ‘Ameth’ formed by the union of the Twelve. It’s been there all along, like a misunderstood geometric pattern. They had just not seen it as it was hidden in plain sight.

“So how does this work?” Samuel asked Brother Erno.

“What do you mean Professor?”

“I mean, how does this device work? What’s its purpose? If the Apocrypha tablet was some kind of evil altar upon which countless innocence was raped and slain, then wouldn’t follow that this is also, some kind of evil doomsday device?”

Brother Erno was about to address Samuel’s concerns when he was interrupted by the arrival of his austere Abbott. The Dominican Abbott was a large stoic man, rather obese and infirm, that always cut to the chase. His baritone voice carried the absolute authority of his position. Despite his ailing disposition, he was still not a man to be crossed. He coughed insistently. Samuel kept his distance.

“Brother Erno,” croaked the old Abbott addressing his underling, “I … (cough) … I hear that Montague … (cough) … has identified the Thirteenth Sign.”

The Abbott talked about Samuel as if he was not in the room. Maybe he didn’t notice him there dressed in the drab habit like the others. He doubted if the old Abbott missed anything – he was just rude and dismissive of outsiders.

“Yes. He has. It was the Sigillum Dei Aemeth.” Bother Erno answered as if he had been personally responsible for the discovery.

“Ameth … (cough) … Authenticity. Axiom. Verisimilitude … (cough) … Truthiness … The truth is the Light Bringer’s Key to Divinity …”

“Yes Abbott, it shows we are on the righteous path.”

Samuel did not attempt to interrupt, though he longed to mention the strange warning that he had so faithfully exposed.”

“And … (cough) … the device?” asked the Abbott, his curiosity obvious.

“The Ameth surrounds the Twelve,” announced Samuel as his fingers traced the hexagonal pattern upon the device.

“Oh my God … He’s right. I see it now! It’s been there all along,” said Brother Erno in his high-pitched girly voice.

“The Thirteenth Sigil,” said the old Abbott, and for a moment everyone else in the chamber fell into silence.

The Abbott retrieved something from a concealed pocket in his habit. It had the appearance of a kind of key. He coughed into his hand and pressed it against the center of the Twelve Signs and then in sequence touched each of the Twelve, followed by the Thirteenth. It seemed to be a precise ritual that Samuel noted in his memory.

The old Abbott stumbled backward and was supported by two of his underlings. The cylinder began to hum and everyone scrabbled up the scaffold to observe from above. A strong glow emitted from the open top of the device resembled a glowing pool of liquid light. Samuel had followed the others and could see for himself how incredible it appears.

The Abbott was the last to make it up the scaffolding and moved to front and center.

Just then, there was a strong shudder coming from the giant cylinder and without warning the fluids from inside erupted upwards, like a fountain. It caught them all by surprise. Samuel was drenched. The fluids tasted salty and sour. Everyone was soaked in the sudden deluge. Then it seemed to set again. Nothing else happened, just a constant hum and the continuous rippling across the surface of the pool.

“What now?” asked Brother Erno.

“Everyone is to leave. Now! Leave!” barked the Abbott.


Brother Basilio quickly escorted Samuel back to his spartan accommodation.

The elderly monk patted him on the back as if to say that he had done well. They were both drenched in the foulness from the device and needed to wash, dry off and change into fresh clothing.

“Get cleaned up and get some rest,” said Brother Basilio, “I must admit that I had my doubts about your abilities Professor. I really did. Brother Erno was so sure about you.”

He chuckled to himself.

“And now the Light Bringer’s ‘Key to Divinity’ is finally ours. It’s been a lifetime’s work for me.” Mumbling more to himself than to his guest, then returning his attention to Samuel, he added, “Your work is done here, Professor. In the morning, we will arrange for you to return home.”

Samuel entered his accommodation and the monk closed the door behind him. Samuel heard the receding footsteps on the other side of the door and then silence.

Samuel felt somewhat empty, maybe relieved by the suddenness of the outcome. It had all happened so quickly. He hoped that they would not renege on the deal. He really needed the money. He wondered if he should have said something about the warning to the Abbott. What was to be offered? On second thoughts, felt it best not to interfere unnecessarily. Whatever they were up to, was no longer his problem. He was done with it. He had been hired to translate the damnable tablet and as Brother Basilio had said, now his job was done.

He felt wiry to the bones. Getting back to the city sounded very positive proposition right now. His reward would give him the breathing space he needed to get back to his personal research. I would insert himself back into his important search. Samuel stripped from the soaking wet habit but did not dry off right away, preferring the cooling dampness on his body. The slightly tangy smell of fluids that had drenched him seemed not to matter. Instead, he simply lay naked and damp on his narrow crib and immediately began to fall into an uneasy rest.



“And there were also male cult prostitutes in the land. They did according to all the abominations of the nations that the Lord drove out before the people of Israel.” 1 Kings 14:24

The drifting feeling began almost immediately. Samuel felt the out-of-body experience begin again. He felt its strangeness again … but this time he completely welcomed it. He let go… floating upwards. He thought of the perverted sexual experience with the young boy and it made him very excited as his body and consciousness separated.

He looked down upon himself wondering what strangeness would befall him on this, his last night in this dreadful place. But his consciousness did not stay in his room. No, he felt himself moving off, passing right through the thick walls of the old monastery, returning to the dreaded chamber … returning to the evil Apocrypha tablet … returning to the damnable device.

He felt fully lucid as his astral projection arrived at the dark chamber. He felt he was not alone in this strange journey. Young Virgil or a spiritual version of the boy was with him. Virgil talked to him. Encouraging him. He spoke as the two disembodied souls observed the Abbott and the eager young Brother Erno.

“They are not men of God,” said Virgil, “They have been duplicitous in their use of your knowledge.”

Samuel witnessed that a strange gathering of the Dominican Order was getting underway. It was like nothing he had ever imagined in his consulting role for them. The chamber was now filled with them. The brotherhood of wickedness. What’s more the chamber itself looked transformed into something far more ominous than before. Now it resembled a cathedral dedicated to a blasphemous sexual demon. Decorated like a pornographic theater of hellish lust.

The monks and nuns were no longer in their drab brown sacking; now they dressed in polished satin satanic outfits. Some looked more like members of the KKK than the religious zealots that Samuel had become to recognize; these monks and nuns wore tall peaked masks that effectively covered the top half of their faces, except for slits cut for their eyes.

Their black masks were marked with the insignia of the inverted red cross. Their bodily clothing was open to the front. The evil monks expose their hard throbbing penises. These that Samuel had originally mistaken for nuns, exposing their bare breasts and hard nipples, and between their legs, they too had erect penises … hermaphrodites, transsexuals, shemale demons …

Yet more masked monks in their congregation were just completely naked. Some of the male participants look far too young to be ordained priests; more like altar boys maybe? All too were visibly erect and excited by whatever it was that was about to occur.

With some pomp and ceremony, a young naked couple climbed the scaffold and stood in readiness to immerse themselves in the bubbling putrid waters of the evil device. It glowed with a strong amber glow. Samuel noticed that they had moved the Sanskrit Apocrypha tablet to the chamber and had positioned it before the device.

Two of the naked masked brothers re-entered the chamber with a struggling figure held between them. The small figure was briefly silhouetted against the yellow glow of the strange cylinder. Then Samuel could see that it was a young boy, not so dissimilar to Virgil. Could it actually be Virgil? They looked so similar …

The boy was dressed in a simple black tunic with bare arms and legs (just as Virgil had been dressed the first night that he had dreamt about him). The boy was in great distress and pulled against his will by his eager and excited captures, who showed no signs of sympathy for the young boy’s plight. In the dreamlike confusion of it all, Samuel accepted what he saw as simply and dream … a nightmare illusion … a chimera .. a dark fantasy.

“See how they love evil?” said the disembodied voice of Virgil.

“Why?” asked Samuel naively.

“They have been searching for their Light Bringer.”

“But it was you who told me about the Sigil of Ameth?” replied Samuel.

“I merely told you what the Light Bringer needed you to know,” stated the boy.

The Light Bringer again? Was Samuel some kind of pawn in a depraved game that he had no understanding of? Samuel’s eyes returned to the satanic ritual being performed by the evil monks and evil cock nuns. There was a dark excitement about it all. Even in his disembodied state, Samuel felt strongly aroused and eager to see more. It was just a fragment of his sleeping psyche. Nothing to really be worried about. Gone in the morning.

He had always been aware of his deviant tastes and preferences, but the salaciousness of this ritualized perversion was something new and immensely enjoyable … he willed the darkness to continue … he wanted to see more.

“They seek enlightenment of a very dark kind. Satanic enlightenment. Satanic pleasures. Sacrilegious pleasures. But, they are, in fact, bringing YOU to the Light Bringer,” said Virgil.

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“They believe that they must perform a profane ritual, partake in deviant sex, dance before the devil and make a blood sacrifice … It is as the ancient ones did in the kingdoms of Sodom and Gomorrah. Their grand debauchery is well recorded in Genesis … their obscene acts of homosexual love … of anal and oral sex … of bestiality … of orgies dedicated to the devil of pederasty with forced masturbation of the young … of the consumption of urine instead of holy water and excrement instead of sacramental bread … of sexual torture and murder instead of grace. These vulgarities were performed upon the Apocrypha tablet before they could pass through the sacred Thirteenth Gate … to their promised land.”

“To the Light Bringer? This could not be the way to heaven. All this evil could not bring about their divinity? What kind of promised land were they envisioning?”

“As I said, they are not men of God.”

Looking downwards in his hovering state, Samuel noticed quickly how the lewd ritual had advanced. The screaming young boy, that the two brothers had brought in, was now being held down over the soiled Apocrypha tablet. He saw how many of the brothers and sisters were now gathering around, rubbing against each other provocatively, jerking their unchaste hips in time to the rhythmical Hebrew chanting as they all vigorously masturbated themselves or each other, totally obsessed and engrossed by what was about to occur. Some of the evil monks and cock nuns groaned lewdly as they urinated over the screaming boy calling to sex demons to bless their corrupted seed.

The obese Abbott moved through the masturbating throng to take his ceremonious place at the center of all the salacious and blasphemous activities – Samuel recognized his grossly hairy and overweight anatomy despite his face being hidden beneath the demonic horned mask.

The evil Hebrew chants called upon the “Dark spirits to bless their passage to the promised land of the Light Bringer,” and as they chanted louder and louder, more and more urgently, two young acolytes help the disgusting Abbott don a cone-shaped implement that was sheathed over his throbbing erect penis as he prepared to rape and kill the boy before him. The death dildo glistened as the acolytes annotated it in feces. The Abbott raised his hands high and the cries intensified as he finally grasped the hind legs of the bellowing boy. There was almost something Shakespearean in the way the Abbott went about the sex ritual. He was evil through and through. Samuel couldn’t wait for more.

“Nunc est tempus ut fructum de agitur; ut earum adducantur ad fidem terram, nostri patris Diabolus habet locus nobis ad fructus ex lumbis nostris, et super gradum sexus daemonibus in aeternum perversa oculis capti fodere cubilia sua studia ac delicias.”

[“Now is the time to bring forth the offering; so that we may be brought to our promise land; our father, the devil, has a place for us to enjoy the fruits of our loins; and join with the sex demons for the eternal perversions and pleasures of his playground.”]

The boy seemed to momentarily increase his struggling, intuitively knowing that the ritual was reaching its dreadful climax. But all his struggling was in vain as the demons and she-demons around him were far too strong. Samuel imagined himself behind the boy’s rear, looking down at him, about the impale him upon the death dildo … his spiritual embodiment meant that all he could do was wait and watch.

The boy was openly sobbing and crying out desperately for help. None was coming. He was surrounded by those eager to take his life and be on their way to their divine destination. The evil Abbott grunted and hunched over the Apocrypha tablet as he was poised with sharpened phallus against the boy’s tender rectum. A strong light glowed upwards from the pool and two silhouetted figures submerged themselves below the surface of the bubbling fluids in the cylinder.

Samuel was not completely sure, but he thought he saw the face of Brother Erno as he stood immediately behind the Abbott. There was a flash of steel and then the old Abbott fell forward over the screaming boy … Samuel tried to make out what was happening in all the confusion, but he felt himself tumbling backward … rapidly moving away from the chamber … speedily passing through the cold stone walls as he returned; leaving the dreamlike mayhem behind, like leaving one dream and entering another. Once again, he looked down upon himself laying naked and prone in the narrow cot.

Whatever he felt towards the ritual in the chamber seemed remote compared to the shared ecstasy with his blessed Virgil, whom he observed squatting provocatively over his upturned face. His disembodiment ended abruptly as he found himself directly beneath the boy’s sweaty perineum. The heat of flesh upon flesh, wetness rubbing against wetness … he savored the aromas of close bodily contact.

Samuel felt Virgil’s tiny fingers grasp his turgid cock that ached for semen release. His hands held the boy’s legs open as his tongue snaked out, exploring the underside of the boy’s salty balls and vinegary anus. The boy tasted divine. Samuel moaned as he licked in pure salaciousness as he lapped lovingly at his young perverted flame. Virgil began to groan loudly in direct response as he rubbed himself back and forth against Samuel’s upturned face, relishing the wetness of his lover’s oral pleasuring. Samuel was once again in perverted bliss. He lapped eagerly at the tangy flesh of the youngster’s open sphincter, driving his thick tongue deeper with every consecutive movement.

“I do the bidding of the Light Bringer. I must bring the Oracle to him,” said Virgil.

Samuel accepted his strange words as much as anyone except the eccentricity in dreams as if all would simply disappear upon awakening.

“I must defecate upon your face and you will eat it. You belong to the Light Bringer. You will love it … as you will love me. You will crave sex with me and do the Light Bringer’s bidding … do you understand?” Asked Virgil, as he looked down between his open thighs, upon Samuel’s upturned reddish face.


To be continued …

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