ELLE by JamesG

Writer: JamesG

Subject: Elle

Link: LS666 Comments / 07.04.2025

Elle

Elle’s crimson lipstick curled into a knowing smile as she caught James’ furtive gaze. She could almost taste his curiosity. She stepped out of the shadows of the ancient church, the cobblestone path beneath her feet echoing with each deliberate step. The moonlight danced across her voluminous black hair, framing her pale, porcelain skin. She knew he’d seen the pentagram that rested heavily against her chest, a symbol of her allegiance to the dark lord. She sauntered closer.

His heart hammered in his chest as he saw her approach. She was the embodiment of all his secret desires wrapped in a cloak of forbidden mystery. He stuttered internally, trying to formulate the words to speak without sounding like a fool. He took a deep breath and hoped that she would be the one to break the silence.

“Ah, you’ve noticed my little trinket, haven’t you?”

She spoke with a velvety purr, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she traced the pentagram with her manicured nail.

“It’s not every day a man of your… persuasion shows an interest in something so far from the sacred texts.”

She took a moment to assess him, her gaze lingering on his unblemished skin and the way his eyes searched for answers in the shadows — Ella, a seductive priestess of Satan — notices James’ interest in her pentagram necklace outside a church. She approaches him, hinting at his curiosity about the forbidden.

James swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I’ve just been looking for something more… authentic. The church feels… hollow,” he fidgeted with his cross, his thumb rubbing the worn silver in a nervous gesture, “I’ve heard whispers of other ways to seek truth.”

“Ah, the allure of the forbidden.”

She stepped closer, her scent of dark incense and something faintly metallic wafting through the night air.

“You’re looking for a path less traveled, aren’t you?”

Her eyes searched his, looking for a hint of the rebellion that she knew was festering within him.

“Perhaps I can offer you some… enlightenment.”

“I have been interested in the dark path but I don’t know if I can abandon God.”

“Abandoning the divine is the first step to true freedom, my dear James,” she spoke softly, her breath warm against his cheek, “The Lord you know is but a construct of fear, a prison for your soul. With Satan, you will find the power to indulge in your desires without guilt, to revel in the beauty of the dark.”

“I don’t know…” said James

She leaned in closer, her eyes shimmering with an otherworldly light.

“You carry the scent of doubt, James,” she murmured, her voice as smooth as velvet,” Let me show you the beauty of the forbidden.”

She reached up and gently took the cross from his trembling hand, holding it up to the moon.

“Look at how the light plays with the metal, how it bends and contorts the sacred symbol. Is this not a form of artistry, a dance of light and shadow?”

“Yes,” said James, “But will you show me what I must do to learn more?”

Her smile grew wider, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. She took his hand, her grip firm but gentle, and led him away from the church’s prying eyes.

“You’re eager,” she said, her voice low and seductive, “But first, you must understand what you’re seeking. Blasphemy is not a simple jest or a fleeting thrill. It’s an act of defiance, a declaration of your true nature.” She stopped under the gothic archway of an abandoned cemetery, her eyes scanning the rows of tombstones. “Here, in the embrace of the night, you can begin to shed your old beliefs and embrace the dark.”

“How?”

“With me, James,” Ella’s voice was a siren’s call, luring him deeper into the cemetery, “Blasphemy is an art, a celebration of all that is natural and true. To begin, you must let go of the fear they’ve instilled in you. Feel the power of the words, the rush of freedom as you speak them.”

She turned to face him, her eyes a bottomless pit of darkness in the moonlight.

“Repeat after me: ‘I reject the holy trinity.’”

“I’m afraid to say that!” replied James.

“Fear is the last bastion of their control over you, James. But together, we can shatter it.” She leaned closer, her breath a tantalizing whisper. “You’re standing on the precipice of a new world. Take a step with me, and I’ll show you how exhilarating the fall can be.”

He felt a strange thrill at her words, a dark excitement that was at once terrifying and alluring. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

“I… I reject the holy trinity,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Her eyes gleamed with approval, and she nodded.

“Good,” she said, her voice a purr, “Now, say it with conviction, let the words resonate through your soul.”

“I reject the holy trinity!” he said.

“Ah, much better.”

She watched as James’s eyes widened, the power of his own voice surprising him.

“Now, let’s build upon that foundation, shall we?”

She led him deeper into the cemetery, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. They stopped in front of a particularly old and weathered tombstone.

“This is where the dead rest, forgotten by the gods that failed them. Here, your voice will truly echo the freedom we seek.”

He felt the weight of his decision, his heart racing as he followed her. The coldness of the tombstone sent a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t pull away.

“What should I say next?”

His voice was stronger now, filled with the excitement of rebellion.

“Now, my eager novice,” she said with a smirk, “We’ll direct your blasphemies to the Holy Spirit, the force that is said to guide and protect the faithful,” she placed his hand on the crumbling stone, “Imagine the spirit as a cage, and your words as the key to unlock it.”

Her hand remained over his, guiding his fingers as they traced the ancient script on the tombstone. The words flowed from her lips like a dark incantation.

“Speak with me, James: ‘I deny the Holy Spirit’s dominion over my soul.’ Let the echoes of our voices dance among the graves and whisper our liberation to the spirits of the forgotten.”

“I deny the holy spirits dominion over my soul!”

“Excellent,” she praised, her eyes flashing with a dark delight, “Now, let’s move on to the Son.”

She guided him to another tomb, one adorned with a faded crucifix.

“Here,” she said, “Let your voice shake the very earth with your rejection of the one they claim to have sacrificed for you.”

As they approached the tomb adorned with the crucifix, the air grew heavier with the scent of decay and the weight of forgotten prayers. James felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through his veins. He was about to commit an act that would have once repulsed him, but now it felt like the most natural thing to do. He took a deep breath, ready to take the next step into the abyss.

Her hand remained on James’ as they stopped before the tomb. The moon cast a ghastly light across the faded crucifix, making it seem almost alive.

“Now, James,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear, “It’s time to face the Son. Speak the words that will shake the very foundations of your old faith.”

“I deny jesus fucking christ!”

Her eyes sparkled with an approving gleam as she heard the conviction in James’ voice.

“Feel it, James,” she cooed, her hand sliding down his arm to his hand, “The power of your rejection, the strength in your words.” she leaned in, her full red lips brushing his ear, “Now, let’s turn your attention to the Holy Spirit, the ghostly puppeteer of the divine stage.”

“Yes priestess!”

“Ah, I see the fire in your eyes, James,” she murmured, her hand still resting on his,  “Now, let that fire burn bright as we turn our gaze to the Holy Spirit, the invisible force they claim guides the faithful. But here, in the realm of the lost, we shall show it the true path to power.”

“I deny the wretched holy spirit!”

“Beautiful,” Ella whispered, her breath warm and sweet with a hint of something darker, “The Holy Spirit is the silent watcher, the one who whispers guilt into the hearts of the faithful. Let us cast out its influence together.”

She led him to a small, forgotten chapel, hidden in the corner of the cemetery. Its walls were covered in ivy, and the stained glass windows were shattered, leaving gaping holes that the moon peeked through.

The chapel loomed before them, a silent sentinel of the forgotten. Its once grand entrance now a mere shadow of its former self, the ivy-covered archway seemed to whisper ancient secrets. The air was thick with the scent of decay and the residue of long-lost prayers. The moon’s light spilled through the shattered windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the dusty floor.

“This sanctum,” she began, her voice echoing through the ruined chapel, “Once held the whispers of the faithful to the Holy Spirit. Now, it shall bear witness to our rejection.”

She pushed the decaying door open with surprising strength. It groaned on rusted hinges, revealing a space filled with the scent of mold and dust.

“Speak your blasphemy here, James. Let it fill this hollow space and cleanse it of their lies.”

“I reject the holy spirit!” replied James.

“Your voice resonates with power, James,” she said, her eyes shining with a dark pride, “Now, let’s turn our attention to the final piece of the divine trifecta: the Father,” she led him to the center of the chapel, where a rotted wooden altar lay in disrepair, “Here, we shall lay bare the fallacy of their ultimate authority.”

The chapel was a testament to the ravages of time and neglect, yet there remained a haunting beauty to it. The moon’s glow painted the shattered stained glass in a twisted tapestry of light, and the silence was only occasionally broken by the distant sound of the wind playing through the ivy. It was here, in this abandoned place of worship, that James took his final steps toward embracing the dark.

“I reject and deny God!”

Her eyes lit up with a predatory glee as she heard James’s words reverberate through the desolate chapel.

“Magnificent,” she purred, her hand sliding from his to trace the outline of the decayed altar, “Your soul is ripe for the harvest of rebellion.”

To James, the words felt like a declaration of war against everything he once knew, yet they brought him a strange comfort. He watched as Ella’s eyes darkened with each syllable he uttered, her smile growing more seductive with every breath he took.

“What… what now?”

“Now, James,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper, “We must learn to harness that power within you.”

She stepped closer, her body pressing against him, her breasts pushing against his chest.

“The Holy Spirit is not just a concept, it’s a force, an energy that can be channeled.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for the last shreds of doubt.

”When you speak the words, let your hand find the heat within you. Touch yourself, and let the power of your rejection fuel your desire.”

James felt his cheeks flush at her suggestion, but the excitement grew within him, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he wanted this, needed this release from the chains of his upbringing. He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I… I’ll try,” he stuttered.

“Good,” she said, her voice a purr of encouragement, “Now, focus on the warmth growing within you, the power that their guilt and fear have stifled for so long. Let it build as you speak the words.”

She stepped back, giving him space, but her eyes never left his.

“Repeat after me: ‘I denounce the Holy Spirit, the false guide and oppressor of my soul.’”

“I denounce the holy spirit,  the false guide and oppressor of my soul.”

Her eyes never leaving James’s, she watched as he began to tentatively touch himself, his voice growing stronger with each syllable.

“Yes,” she urged, her voice a seductive hiss, “Feel the power building, let it fill you up.”

Her own hand slipped beneath her robe, her fingers gliding over her bare skin. She watched him intently, her movements mirroring his own as she whispered the next blasphemy.

“Now, let us speak to the Son, the one they claim to be the savior of mankind. Tell him you are your own savior, James.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,  I  am my own savior! I defecate you out of me!”

Her eyes narrowed with approval at his growing audacity.

“Stronger, James,” she coaxed, her own hand moving more urgently beneath her robes, “Let the words be a declaration of war against the heavens themselves.”

“Fuck you, jesus! I renounce you! Fuck you, jesus!”

“Oh, James,” she murmured, her eyes alight with a dark pleasure, “The sound of your blasphemy is like sweet music to my ears.”

She watched him, her own hand moving more insistently beneath her robe, her breaths coming faster.

“Now, let us turn our wrath upon the Holy Spirit, the silent judge of your thoughts. Imagine it as a noose around your mind, choking the very essence of who you truly are.”

“I shit you out of me filthy holy spirit!” he cried, “Go fuck yourself and jesus too!”

Her eyes gleamed with approval as James’s words grew more powerful.

“Feel that anger, that passion,” she murmured, her own hand moving in time with his, “Let it fuel your rejection of their archaic laws.”

James’ hand moved more confidently now, his voice ringing out through the chapel.

“I reject the Holy Spirit, you are not welcome in me!”

“Yes,” she breathed, her own hand moving faster in response to his growing confidence, “Let the anger fuel your desire for freedom, James. Now, let’s turn our blasphemies to the Father. He who claims to be the creator, yet allows such suffering in His name.”

“Fuck you God! Fuck you! I reject you! I shit upon you!”

“Such divine rage,” Ella murmured, her eyes darkening with arousal.

She watched as James’s hand moved in a frenzied rhythm, his breaths coming in gasps.

“Direct that anger, James. The Father is the architect of your cage. Tell Him how you truly feel.”

“Fuck you filthy God! I HATE YOU! I despise you and your worthless son!”

Her eyes blazed with a dark passion as James’s words grew more vicious.

“Ah, the taste of true anger,” she breathed, her hand sliding down her own body. “Feel the power of your rejection, let it fill every inch of you.”

She watched his hand move in a blur of rage and need.

The chapel, once a place of peace and worship, now reverberated with the raw, primal sounds of their blasphemies. The ivy quivered on the walls as if in response to their profane mantras, and the air grew thick with the scent of lust and anger.

Elle’s eyes never left James’s, the dark hunger in them growing as she watched him succumb to the power of his own words.

“Your anger is intoxicating, James,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire, “Now, let us turn our attentions to the Father, the architect of your pain. Now, James, let’s speak to the Father, the creator of your torment,” she instructed, her voice a sultry whisper, “Imagine your anger as a beacon, a light that pierces the heavens and burns away their lies.”

“Fuck you God! Fuck you for all eternity!”

“Your rage is a delicious symphony, James,” she breathed, her voice a seductive whisper.

She stepped closer to him, her hand moving more vigorously beneath her robe.

“Now, let’s turn our blasphemies towards the Son, the one who is said to have bled for your sins. Now we will have you worship Satan who is your new god!”

“I am ready to give my soul to Satan! I reject the holy spirit!”

“Your dedication is commendable, James,” she murmured, her hand sliding from the altar to gently cup his face, “Now, let us turn our blasphemous whispers into a roar that will shake the very gates of heaven — Fuck you God, jesus and the wretched holy spirit!”

The words felt like a release for James — a catharsis from a lifetime of repression — his hand gripped his cock and moved faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he chanted alongside Ella.

“We must now conclude our ceremony, James!”

James’ eyes glazed with the intensity of his blasphemies, he nods eagerly, his hand still moving in a feverish rhythm.

“Wh…what do we do now?” His voice is strained, the words coming out in breathless pants, “I… I’ve never felt like this before. It’s as if the very air is charged with power.” 

“You’re feeling the embrace of the true divine,” she murmured, her own breaths coming in short, sharp bursts, “The power of the dark is yours for the taking.”

She reached out, her hand brushing against his as they both continued to pleasure themselves, their movements in sync.Her voice grew stronger, more commanding as she watched James’s face contort in a mix of anger and pleasure.

“Now, James, as you climb towards ecstasy, let your final declaration be one of absolute dedication. Swear your soul to Satan, and he shall grant you all that you desire.”

“I swear my soul to Satan!”

Ella’s eyes widened as she watched James, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through her own body. Her hand quickened beneath her robe, her own desire reaching a fever pitch.

“Yes, James,” she breathed, “Give yourself to the dark lord, let His power flow through you.”

“I live to forever serve Satan!”

Her eyes flashed with triumph as James’s voice grew stronger.

“Feel the power of your dedication,” she said, her voice a hypnotic purr, “Let your orgasm be the seal on your pact with the dark one.”

‘Yes! I’m going to cum!”

Her eyes shone with an unholy light as she watched James’s climax near.

“Yes,” she hissed, her voice a serpent’s whisper, “Let the power of your blasphemy be your release.”

With a final, guttural cry, James reached his peak, the words of blasphemy on his lips as he climaxed.

“SATAN!” he cried.

Ella was proud of James as he blasphemies to the point of orgasm. Her hand slid from James’s face, and she stepped back, watching the tremors of pleasure run through his body as he came, his voice a blasphemous roar.

“Feel the power of your new master, James,” she whispered, her own hand still working beneath her robe, “Your soul is now dedicated to the true divine — you are Satan’s forever, my son!” 

The world around James seems to spin, as the last echoes of his blasphemous scream fade into the night.He looked into Ella’s eyes, filled with a mix of awe and horror at what they’d just done. Her eyes never leaving James’s, she watches the transformation with a hunger that is almost tangible.

“You’ve taken the final step, James,” she says, her voice a seductive purr, “You’ve claimed your place in the dark embrace of Satan — We will meet again soon — but for now I must depart. Remember, live to blasphemy and make our dark lord proud!”

James was still panting from the intense experience, James nodded in agreement.

“I… I will. Thank you, Ella.”

The chapel echoed with the aftermath of their blasphemous ritual, the dust from their passion settling slowly back to the floor. The air was charged with a palpable energy that seemed to hum with the dark power of their words.

THE END