DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. All Rights Reserved © 2023 LITTLESALLY666.

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Incest, WS, Scat, Coercion, Corruption, Lolita, NC, Rape, Bondage, Sadism, Pedophilia, Snuff, Gore, MC, Blasphemy, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, Evil themes

AUTHORS NOTES: This story was written back in 2013. Thought I would re-upload again for anyone who missed it the first time on ASSTR… it was originally dedicated to Michael Thickett, so thanks again to Michael for the general plot idea. Appreciate your email – it inspired me to start working on this strange story.

CREATED: (ORIGINALLY) 14.02.2013 / UPDATED; 22.04.2018 / REVISITED: 23.07.2023

Evil Deeds


Since the dawn of time, demons have existed and thrived in the darkness of our world. Despite warnings in the scriptures to the contrary from words of ancient wisdom, today few humans actually believe – even the clergy themselves have banished the belief to the realms of outdated myth and scary movies. Even though the Catholic Church is adamant that this narrative is true and that the existence of The Devil is indisputable – it is still the misinformation that makes so many people doubt the existence of the personification of evil.

It is the nature of every demon to use whatever means necessary to change the light into the dark, the moral to the immoral, good into evil, to tempt, manipulate, coerce, corrupt, and turn innocence into wickedness. The Devil exists in Hell and his job is tempting humanity and torturing condemned souls.

As God created the world and everything in it, he also created wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, gluttony, and the demons that do his bidding. His blasphemous fallen angels are always on call for their master and only ever a sin away from our loved ones.


Samuel and Clara Westinghouse-Johnson were highly respected in the Village of Mote Bridge. They were active in their local parish church as well as many local charities, especially for the benefit of orphaned children. Both had lost their parents tragically and had become wealthy through their inheritance. Life was quiet, with the only exception of Clara’s youngest brother, whose wild claims hinted at incest, abuse, devil worship, and even murder. He was seen as a fool, unworthy of consideration. So life in Mote Bridge continued – but there was a dark side; an insidious and salacious underbelly to the Westinghouse-Johnson family and their close circle of friends. Unbeknown to most, Samuel and Clara were not who they purported to be – sexually perverted from a very early age, they both feed each other paraphilias; their malevolent plots had made them wealthy and able to pursue their evil desires.



“All things truly wicked start from an innocence.” Ernest Hemingway.

The Westinghouse-Johnson family was very well respected and beyond reproach among these in the village of Mote Bridge, a small rural community of about seven hundred, surrounded by rolling hills, wheat fields, and light woodlands. Samuel Westinghouse-Johnson was a pillar of the local community and his loving wife, Clara, was it patriarch of all the charities in the community that were dedicated to helping young children from broken homes to the local orphanage. They were both very active in their parish church and their story of personal tragedy was well known throughout the countryside.

Mote Bridge was a small place where everyone knew everyone on a first-name basis. Nobody locked their doors. It was quaint and tranquil in its rustic country charm. Clara and Samuel had lived in Mote Bridge all of their lives. The seniors of the village remembered the time when they would play out in the old barn and were inseparable as kids. They saw them as good children who kept to themselves though mischief is every child’s game.

Many spoke of how sad the loss of both of their parents had been. Though Clara’s estranged brother, Dean, seemed to be the only one who saw it differently. The majority of folks thought he was a fool and unworthy of consideration. His outrageous stories and wild claims hinted at incest, abuse, devil worship, and even the murder of his parents. Now he resided at the Greywich hospital, his voice was silent and forgotten.

It was true that both Dean’s parents had died, and so had Samuel’s in a related fire and that Clara, the eldest child of the Johnsons, and Samuel, an only child of the Westinghouse’s, had both become the beneficiaries of their parent’s wealthy estates — it was simply too diabolical to consider that these two, innocent young teenagers at the time, could have had anything to do with the death of their own kin. Folks did not resent him but were sure that young Dean had some serious issues and was tormented by the unresolved grief and the demons of blame, and in his mind had focused his anger on his surviving sibling. It was apparent to all that Clara, now a mother herself and a selfless individual that dedicated her own time as well as her generosity to the church could never have abused her infant brother — and to accuse the couple of other unspeakable acts was just beyond belief.


Time had been very kind to both Clara and her husband, blessed them with a beautiful daughter, approaching eight years old. Now in their mid-forties, they both still seemed to have the energy of youth and still have the look of their twenties. They never wanted anything, as the wealth of their family’s estates was truly immense.

Clara lay back in bed. The morning sun was strong, but she felt lethargic and unmotivated. She pulled back the bed sheets and watched herself in the large floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the adjacent wall as she lazily rubbed her pussy thinking about random feelings and moments from her pre-teen years. Her fingers explored the crevice between her protruding cunt lips that glistened with moisture. She moaned to herself as she brought herself close to her first orgasm of the day. Strangely, it really felt like only yesterday that she had first caught Samuel, then only ten years old, masturbating in their old barn. She had hidden out of sight and observed him intensely. He was naked and gripping his plump penis when his body suddenly quaked in the grips of his first orgasm as he shot his semen across the barn floor.

He would have never known she was there if it had not been for the horses making a noise. He stared at her with his hands still around his penis. She had also been touching herself while he had been doing the same. They grinned at each other, sharing the first of many pre-teen sexual secrets. It would be the first of many encounters and the barn became their secret meeting place – to kiss, fondle, lick, suck and bring each other to orgasm after orgasm. They were both masturbation addicts – it seemed to be the quantity not necessarily the quality as both of them were constantly horny. Too young to get pregnant, they soon progressed to actual fucking and when this got somewhat predictable, they added other activities like rimming, anal sex, even urination and scat. As childhood sweethearts, they became inseparable.

From a very early age, Clara had many perverted fantasies. She often imagined having multiple partners; many young boys at once filling her every hole with their eager little cocks; trying it with other young girls, grinding their wet pussies together as they tongue-fucked another; even the animals in barn appealed to her rapidly expanding repertoire of paraphilias – she had got a big kick out of touching the penis of one of the ponies making it excited until it expanded to an enormous length and girth. She had started kissing it, licking it while she imagined impaling herself on it.

She told Samuel that there was a voice in her dreams that told her to do these nasty things, that it filled her mind with deviant but extremely pleasurable visions; and that the voice was always pleased when she and Samuel did the things that it had suggested. The voice was dark and mysterious … and when she awoke from these dreams, she was always drenched between the legs and would masturbate furiously as she recalled the content of her dream.

Likewise, Samuel confessed to her that he harbored fantasies of bisexual orgies, forced sex with other younger children not willing to participate and even the thought of inflicting pain on his boy and girl lovers was a source of excitement. He said that he had a similar thing and that there was a whisper he heard late at night that had encouraged him to do naughty things with Clara. Like her experience, he had felt the whispers reassuring him and praising his salaciousness. He added that the whispers had told him to convince Clara should bring her little brother along to their barn games. It was then that the both of them began to plot and plan his seduction … and what wild nasty things they would both like to do to him – Clara wanted to humiliate him and inflict physical pain too.

At the time, Dean was not easily persuaded, and Samuel suggested to Clara that they pursue another young boy he knew in the neighborhood whom they could seduce easier. This other boy happened to be the son of the pastor. William or Billy as they called him then, was in the junior choir and was also an altar boy. Clara and Samuel allowed him to spy on them while they had sex and were pleased that he continued to watch the entire time. They were even more surprised and pleased that he returned to hide out in the same spot, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two of them doing it again. The little voyeur was soon to be their third partner.

It was a few days after Billy had been spying on them, that Clara began her pre-teen seduction, and hoping he would get a chance to duplicate what he had seen her do with Samuel, he had been more than keen to follow along with her game. As they made out in the barn, Samuel pretended to catch them. At first, Billy pretended nothing was going on, but the wet patch near his boner gave him away.

Caught between lies and desires, Samuel forced him to perform oral sex on the both of them … they let him masturbate while the two of them had sex in his company; they humiliated him, urinated over him, and even defecated on him, and beat him if he came without permission … he was their sex slave. This game continued for quite some time, getting more and more extreme … was it that Billy liked being their slave?

Clara bucked against her fingers and groaned lewdly as she squirted more than half a pint of girl cum over her own legs and drenched the bed sheets.


The church choir was in good voice as they sang loud and strong the ‘Gloria in Excelsis Deo’ to the accompaniment of the haunting church organ. Father William took the podium. He was an attractive semi-androgynous man with pepper and salt hair and softly chiseled features. He could have easily appeared in a fashion spread if he had not followed the calling. His slightly effeminate voice was controlled and his words sounded well-considered; neither in a hurry nor wanted to waste time and effort.

“In considering what I should address in today’s sermon, I thought I would talk about the disturbing trend that I have noticed in and beyond our local community of Mott Bridge. A trend that I may say, I consider to be dangerous, deceptive, and devious. I am not talking about pornographic literature, public drunkenness, vandalism of our parks and amenities, under-aged pregnancies, or even drug abuse … though all of these are a scourge on our lives in one way or another … even related to my topic … I am talking about the belief in the Devil!”

The congregation was used to Father William’s sermons, but he rarely sounded so serious and determined. The mention of the Devil brought a few unexpected expressions of anxiety from the body of the congregation.

“When I talk to young people today and I mention the existence of demons, or the personification of evil, the Devil or by any of the other names by which he is known, Lucifer, Satan, Io Pan, the Baphomet … or even eternal damnation in Hell itself … I hear disbelief. I hear doubt. I hear cynicism. It seems to me that there are those among us that see the Devil as no more than a fictional character like the bogeyman, or like vampires, werewolves, witches, and magicians – like Hollywood characters that are either benign or simply entertainment.”

Father William gazed across his parish – some looked distinctly uncomfortable, others looked concerned. His eye met the gaze of Samuel and Clara, who simply smiled. Samuel nodded in recognition.

“It is my hope, that you all can see and appreciate that Jesus did not die in vain. He took away the sins of the world, to save us all… to give you to the Father… that he may embrace you to his bosom and welcome you with Saint Peter at the gates of heaven. Amen.”

“Amen,” rumbled the congregation.

Father William opened his heavy bible to a page marked with a fancy cloth.

“Today, I would like you all to acknowledge the existence of evil in all its forms … that the Devil lies awaiting your sinful thoughts … tempts you with his false prophecies … with flesh, with desire, with the lust of the loins. Amen”

“Amen,” answered the entire congregation with a renewed sense of urgency.

“Welcome Miss Dara Watson, to do today’s bible reading.”

Conservatively dressed, Miss Watson walked up to the podium as Father William took his seat next to the podium. She was a very attractive woman in her late thirties and despite being rather anorexic, her very pale-skinned gave her the angelic look of purity and innocence. Standing behind the pulpit she addressed the congregation in a schoolmistress kind of manner.

“Thank you Father William. Before today’s reading, I would like to acknowledge the community for their kind support of the State Orphanage; especially the Westinghouse-Johnson Foundation for the donation and assistance with the much needed repairs to the Orphanage.”

There was a round of clapping to acknowledge those who have given.

“And now a short reading from Peter versus 5:8. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: ‘Be holy, because I am holy.’ Amen.”




“They set up their vile images in the house that bears my Name and defiled it. They built high places for Ba’al in the Valley of Ben Hinnom to sacrifice their sons and daughters to Molekh, though I never commanded – nor did it enter my mind – that they should do such a detestable thing and so make Judah sin.” Jeremiah 32:35

Clara and Dara Watson sat leisurely in the village café and sipped on lemon teas for fine bone china cups as they watched the sleepy village go about its daily routines through the café’s quaint lattice windows. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch and after the morning service at the church they had a few things to catch up on. Clara and Dara had been lovers since the tender age of ten years old; she regularly participated in threesomes with Clara and Samuel and shared a keen interest in abusive sex with young children. They were both about twelve years old when they took their first life together. It had been a special moment for the three of them. It had been all too easy to conceal and in an unsophisticated place like Mott Bridge, the fate of a young five-year-old was put down to an unfortunate accident.

Clara smiled at Dara. She loved having filthy sex with this evil woman. The two of them were sisters of hate. Their inner demons never sated.

“I was just remembering the time we were both at the lake with that little five-year-old bitch, Sarah,” whispered Clara.

“Clara, we should not talk of such things in a public place.”

“But that is the point. To talk of the death of such an innocent young girl, under such strange circumstances; and to be the only ones who truly knew what really happened; doesn’t it excite you?”

“To recall those moments that we both shared. Of course, it excites me, darling. It makes me want to have your devious tongue between my legs. We are the devil’s servants after all.” Dara’s bare legs rubbed gently against Clara’s – both of their pussies moist from the recollection.

Dara’s administrative position at the orphanage was the perfect cover for their many deviant activities and the renovations of their new style of dormitories were well under way. It had been Clara and Samuel that had suggested spending the funds on a more secure area with specialized furnishings and video capabilities so that they could meet and abuse the younger orphans more regularly, without the risk of detection; share the spoils of their fun; in a more congenial environment for abuse, rape, torture, and disposal – all integrated into a warm, comfortable and convenient location.

“You would be pleased to know that the foundation works have been completed at the orphanage – we expect everything to be complete before the 27 July.”

“The Grand Climax. We shall use the space for a great ritual … it shall be our temple.”


“Father William’s speech was full of furtive meetings? I wanted his cock inside me the entire time he was talking. All that narrative about the Devil had been very turned on.”

“I know what you mean. He does it on purpose around this time of year. He likes to link unexpected events to the Devil’s will.”

Both of the women had developed a strange addiction and blasphemous fetish for the idolatrous worship of certain demons, especially a particularly nasty pair of demon gods, Molekh and Ashtaroth.

Molekh was said to be an ancient and violent demon that demanded the ritual human sacrifice of young babies and children. Molekh was also known as Ba’al, the pagan god of fertility. It was the Sacred Bull that had been widely worshiped in the ancient Near East and was frequently mentioned in the Old Testament. From their understanding Ba’al and Ashtaroth were co-worshiped; incorporated illegal sexual acts; and the Asherah was nothing but a blatant phallic symbol. Their rituals were described as lascivious meaning lewd, lustful, licentious, lecherous, bawdy… Clara and Dara’s Baal worship was accompanied by sinful sexual acts and behavior expressly forbidden historically in old Jehovah’s law.

On the night of the Satanic Revel of sexual rites and female sacrifice, they would both dress as Canaanite princesses – the sacred prostitutes and high priestesses, the living personification of Ashtaroth. Clara was Jezebel and Dara was her incestuous daughter Ethbaal, who in an effort to placate their evil gods, would abuse, rape, and kill as many young orphans upon the altar of Ba’al as they saw fit. Nobody would miss them. The paperwork would simply disappear and within the great oven within the belly of their idol, the remains would simply turn to nothing but ash.

Just at that moment, Father William entered the café. He smiled at the two women as they waved him to join them.

“Oh Father, we both enjoyed today’s sermon. It was most interesting,” said Clara as he kissed the back of her hand.

“Thank you Ms Westinghouse-Johnson. So I am pleased to hear that the work at the orphanage is nearing completion. Should be a cause for celebration?”

“Exactly Father. And celebrate we will. Of course, you will be joining us as the master of ceremonies?”

“The Devil’s work is never done and neither is mine. And Ms. Watson, I do believe that you will be bringing along some unique entertainment?”

Dara leaned close to Clara and Father William so that her voice would not carry any further than their table.

“Entertainment will be in plenty, evil priest. It shall be nothing short of the salacious and blasphemous brothel filled with waifish urchins to sate your loins, dear Priest of Satan,” she whispered.

“Excellent my dear. Excellent.”


The parish gardener, Derek Grace, and the village undertaker, Robert Strickland, stood side by side. They both had removed their hats holding them to the breasts and hung their head in a silent prayer. Old Mrs. Wright had passed away peacefully and after her family had left the cemetery, it was up to Mr. Grace to complete the burial.

“She was a sweet soul that Mrs. Wright. Always speak well of folks. Made the most tasty meat pies. I’ll miss her this winter, Bob,” said the old gardener.

“She was the salt of the earth. It was good of the Westinghouse-Johnson’s to pay their respects,” added Bob.

“I still remember when the tragedy of the fire at the old Westinghouse and the Johnson properties happened. She was the first to offer those poor children some refuse.”

“It was certainly an unpleasant business back in the day. I can tell you the smell of burnt flesh is not something that I ever want to encounter again. I was called you know. Called the site as the coroner, Terry Duffy, from Greywich was on holiday. I was the one that had to collect the remains. There was much to collect. It was something awful.”

“They never did get to the bottom of that one did they?”

“No, they didn’t. Those poor children – orphaned at such a young age.”

“Well look at them now. You wouldn’t believe it. And all they seemed to do is look after other orphans – it must be the way they were affected by the loss of their own loved ones I reckon.”

“Sounds about right Bob.”

The fire had been fierce destroying most of the two neighboring properties. The Westinghouse mansion had been first and then the fire had spread to the Johnson’s property. The lack of an effective fire department had not helped either, and by the time the fire brigade from Greywich had arrived, there was not much left except for charcoal and twisted metal. The saving grace had been that the children had been in the barn playing as they always did, otherwise, they may have perished as well.

At the time, Mrs. Wright had taken care of these strange little kids that looked lost and bewildered by all the comings and goings. The police had filed all the paperwork with the Greywich Town Hall and the children, Samuel Westinghouse aged fourteen, and Clara and Dean Johnson, fourteen and ten respectively, had been placed in the care of Mrs. Wright for four years until they turned eighteen and could legally take control of their respective estates. It all seemed so long ago.

Their marriage had been widely celebrated, like the Phoenix rising from the ashes of that terrible fire, the two great houses brought together by their orphaned children. And the village had once again enjoyed the fruits of their custodians – all was well for many years, albeit some strange rumors, and certainly the wild brother – his preposterous allegations against his own sister no less. He had burst into the church that morning during service. Father William had tried to arrest his aggression towards all and sundry. He accused Clara and Samuel of being demons, of praying to Satan, to have raped him and killed his parents. He was obviously insane – lost his marbles. They took him away to Greywich, to the mental hospital, where he stayed to this very day.


Samuel was a details man. He left no stone unturned and his photographic memory meant that nothing slipped by him. Many said he was the chip off the old block. His father had been the same and had amassed his fortune through trading. But Samuel was not like his father in any other way. Samuel lacked patience and wanted everything immediately. He was deviant and enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering on others. It was obvious to him and to the voices that coached him, what he would have to do.

When his mother caught Clara masturbating on her little brother’s face and him, balls deep, raping his tight little rectum, they both knew that they would have to die — there was no other way. Samuel had caused the fire – when it spread to the Johnsons, it had been no coincidence. Mrs. Wright had been an obvious choice – old, gullible, and easy to manipulate. She had taken them in, but for the four years that they lived under her roof, she never suspected their sexual liaisons, and continued abuse of Clara’s little brother that happened nightly for the entire duration.

At eighteen, Samuel took over as rightful heir to his family’s estate; and made sure that Clara was in a position to do the same. He married Clara and rebuilt their home, consolidating their assets. They were wealthy and would need nothing for the rest of their lives. Now Mrs. Wright had passed the Foundation took care of everything. It had been a beautiful funeral and her distant family from Greywich had been so grateful.



“Do not prostitute thy daughter, to cause her to be a whore; lest the land fall to whoredom, and the land become full of wickedness.” Leviticus 19:29

Nika was a pretty and precocious eight years old. She had the fairness of her mother’s flawless skin – smooth and toned; and the dark raven-black hair of her father. She was the first to read and write in her class, in fact, most of the kids were a little intimated by her. Boys thought she was cute but unobtainable; girls thought she was a lucky bitch. She didn’t have friends her own age and was home-schooled from seven years old. Behind closed doors, her secret life was bawdy and lewd. She had already been participating regularly with her parents in sex for the past four years and for an eight-year-old was an insatiable Lolita. Her mother was proud of her sexuality and encouraged her to pursue any and all sexual pleasures without limitation.

Clara had been performing oral sex on her own daughter from birth; masturbating during breastfeeding, and stopping short of any pain or really dangerous physical abuse – as she considered her daughter, like herself, a servant to demons, to grow up to become an abuser and therefore not to be abused. Sex had not involved full penetration until more recent times, but now she would ride her father as often as her mother did.

Nika had a morbid fascination with dark things. Halloween was always her favorite time of the year. When she wasn’t watching horror and gore on television, she would be touching herself whilst looking at sick porn, especially bondage, sadism, crush, and snuff. She had been brought up in the same parish church as her mother and father, gone to the same kindergarten, and attended the same primary school. Father William had baptized her twice. The first time, bathed her in holy water, in front of the church congregation; and the second time, bathed her in urine, in the Sacred Temple of Ba’al and Ashtaroth, in front of the Mont Bridge witches.

The Westinghouse-Johnsons’ hired a discrete governess to privately tutor her in the key subjects, but like a lot of things in their household, everything revolved around sexual activities, and seducing her governess was always her preferred learning challenge. Her governess’s real name was Viktoria Charlesworth, but Nika liked to call her Ms. Charlee. Ms. Charlee was twenty-five years old and a graduate of Greywich Community College. Not an impressive institution, but ample for the qualifications required by the Westinghouse-Johnsons’.

Nika was very fond of Ms. Charlee. She liked how she smelt lavender soap and lemons. Her twin sets were always coordinated with her hair clips. Her attitude was always polite, patient but firm when it came to study. Nika did not want to scare her off but also desired a more intimate relationship with her governess.

This all changed on a weekend when her parents were away for out-of-town business. Usually, Nika would go with them, but she pretended to feel unwell, and Clara asked Ms. Charlee if she would be all right to stay with Nika for the weekend. Usually, the governess would head back to her own family in Greywich, but Clara had sweetened the deal with a ‘bonus’. How could Viktoria refuse the Westinghouse-Johnsons’?

Nika stood naked. She watched from the bay window of her second-floor bedroom, as her parents left in their chauffeur-driven limousine. Nika contemplated her seduction. She knew that Ms Charlee would be up soon to check on her, check her temperature, and probably, with the maid away, she would serve her some hearty soup or hot lemon drink that she would have prepared herself. Nika donned her favorite little nightgown – the one she wore the first time she had full intercourse with her father; it was pink with a lacy frill and barely covered her private parts; its sheerness left nothing to the imagination.

She opened a browser on her computer and searched for something filthy – something completely inappropriate for a child of her age to be looking at. Her parents did not believe in blocking pornographic content – in fact, they encouraged it. She settled on a site dedicated to lesbian sex between very young girls that purported to be of legal age, but their hairless vaginas, flat chests, and very young clothing (what there was of it) screamed under-aged. Leaving it there for her governess to find, she lay across her bed and pretended to be asleep.


The door opened gently and Viktoria crooked her head around the door. She could see the little rascal asleep on top of bedclothes. She didn’t believe that she was sick for a second but thought that she’d play along with their daughter’s game to see where it was heading. She genuinely liked Nika; maybe in a slightly unsavory way – a line of thought she quickly pushed out of her head, as this was too much of a well-paying gig to get fired or worst, get charged for. Nika was bright, fast on the uptake, and very cute to look at; real eye candy, considering her taste in young girls.

It had been the reason that Viktoria had got into the tutoring business, but she could see the life of luxury that the Westinghouse-Johnson’s lived by. They were conspicuous in their consumption. They lived a life of sheer indulgence – something she envied and desired. Nika was always up to mischief and seemed to have her mother and father wrapped around her little finger – there were no limitations to her childhood wants – whatever she wanted they would give her.

So that brought her back to the moment. Nika lay with her face towards the door. Her eyes closed. Viktoria entered the room quietly and put the tray with a cup of hot honey and lemon on the bedside table. She could see Nika’s chest rise and fall at an even pace. Her eyes looked around the room. She had been in the girl’s bedroom before and was surprised at the lack of childish toys, games, or paraphernalia. Besides a few posters, the girl seemed to like weird dark things, strange phallic statues, voodoo, and occult-like things.

She noticed the screen saver on Nika’s desktop computer, she moved the mouse and the image of young girls engaged in lesbian sex appeared on the screen. Viktoria was a gasp. She felt a stab of lust between her thighs.

Nika stirred in the bed and looked at her governess. Viktoria returned the girl’s gaze. From where she was standing, she could see Nika’s vagina between her open legs. Nika looked delicious – a true delicacy for any pervert like her. Viktoria turned the computer screen towards Nika as she lay on the bed.

“What do you think this is?” she said sternly. In truth, her entire body was shaking with desire.

“Don’t know Ms. Charlee,” she sat up on her bed and answered demurely.

“Don’t pretend. You think I don’t know a lie when I hear one!” Replied Viktoria as she loomed over the youngster.

“Please Ms. Charlee, don’t tell my mom and dad.”

“And way shouldn’t I do that?”

“Because …” Nika began to tear up.

“What would our mother and father think of you looking at other naked girls touching themselves and each other?”

“Please, Ms. Charlee. Please don’t tell,” she was now crying softly.

Viktoria had never been so turned on. On one hand, she could think of nothing more erotic than to go down on this child, yet being caught could mean her livelihood or worse.

“Look … I understand you may be interested in adult things buts…”

As Viktoria sat down on the bed to comfort the crying girl, Nika throw her arms around her governess’s neck and pressed her lithe body against her in a knowing way.

“Ms. Charlee, I want to do the things that those girls do … I want to do them with you … I love Ms. Charlee.”

“Hold on Nika. I said I understand, but I am your governess and I have to think about what is right for you? You’re far too young to understand the feeling that girls have for each other and things that they like to do to one another.”

“Ms. Charlee … you’re making me so wet.”

Viktoria dry swallowed. This tiny young girl was filling her with lust.

“Then … then maybe you should come and sit on my knee and show me the things that you like on this website … show me what it is you think that you would like to experience.”

The moment the words had left her mouth, Viktoria felt deep guilt and regret – she was taking advantage of this confused young girl – these fleeting feelings were not to be explored by a deviant adult offering her sexual gratification. She should leave right away, or at least go back downstairs and rethink the whole situation. But she didn’t. Instead, Viktoria removed her clothing and sat on the chair at the computer.

“Ms. Charlee… I love you,” said Nika as she climbed onto her lap.

The young girl’s skin rubbed directly against her thighs as Nika leaned back against her governess.

“You want to see what I really like?”

Viktoria didn’t answer as the young girl moved the mouse to click on her favorites.



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

Father William walked along the narrow cemetery path and entered the church refectory from the rear door. He had known Mrs. Wright from when he was a young boy. She had been a very kind woman and had taken care of two of his closest friends, Clara and Samuel. They hadn’t told him until years later about the death of their parents – well, the truth behind the mysterious fire.

He remembered their first encounter. He had been to the old Johnson’s barn where he knew that Clara and Samuel always hung out. He hide behind the stacks of hay bundled into rectangular blocks and stacked up like a giant hay jigsaw puzzle. He had heard them as they came into the old barn, laughing and giggling as they affectionately embraced each other.

Billy, that is what they called him then, had been nervous and felt a little weird spying on them, but as they began to undress, watching them made him feel incredibly horny. He knew it was wrong. He should have left, but he kept watching as Clara began to take Samuel’s penis into her mouth. She sucked it and he moaned unabated. Billy felt his own penis swell inside his loose shorts. He wanted to be Clara, he wanted to kneel in front of Samuel and take his rigid flesh into his mouth.

That beautiful mushroom head filled the roof of his mouth and he sucked it hard and squeezed his balls to fill his throat with delicious boy seed. Then Clara turned around. He could clearly see everything, her flat boyish chest, and vulgar pouting vagina as she angled her stance, so he could put his penis inside of her from behind. He had his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him. She, at the same moment, pushed back against Samuel, his penis penetrating her rectum instead of her vagina. Billy wanted to groan. His cock leaked pre-cum as he imagined sandwiching her against Samuel, as he put his penis into her dripping wet hole.

He had come back the next day. Not satisfied by the first voyeuristic encounter, he wanted to see more, of both of them. They were divine; the first lovers – committing the Original Sin. He wanted to be with them but felt deep guilt about his sinful bisexual desires. The son of a preacher, he knew all about moral sins – about the Bible’s view on homosexuality and sodomy; yet he could not deny his longing for sinfulness.

It welcomed the devil; and the more lewd and perverted the thought, the more it turned him on. It had happened again, this time Samuel had cum all over her pretty little face, and then Samuel had licked his own semen from her. It had been one of the most sexual things Billy had ever encountered. He wanted to be the one to taste Samuel’s semen … he wanted Samuel to cum on his face and kiss him with his cum-filled mouth. He wanted Clara to encourage the two of them to lie as boys together and suck each other off and touch each other’s nether holes. He trembled as he came in his shorts without even touching himself. It was the work of the devil, he thought, and how he worshiped the devil now.

On the third day, Samuel had not appeared. Billy had hoped to see the amorous couple fornicating for a third time; what games would they do this time? Clara seemed to be there, all on her own. She looked lonely as she waited for Samuel or for something else. Billy slipped back away from the bails of hay and entered the front of the barn as if he was unaware of their previous sexual liaisons – just a kid walking around to the old Johnson’s barn.

Clara waved to him and Billy came over to say hello. She smiled at him and asked Billy what he’d been up to. He blushed. She smiled and added that it was okay, she liked to be watched when she was fucking. It gave her an extra thrill. She touched his penis through the fabric of his pants and showed him her little pink nipples. She asked if he’d kiss them – he did. They talked about cock sucking and again Billy blushed at her forwardness. Now she was masturbating him through the loose fabric in his pants and he was incredibly turned on as his mouth closed around her puffy nipple and began to suck it like a baby.

Then Samuel arrived. Billy didn’t know what to do. He felt like he had crossed the line and pretended that nothing had happened between Clara and him. He felt flushed and nervous. He could feel the unwanted bulge in his pants as he stuttered about something, anything, to pretend his innocence. But his pants told a different story … his cock was still half-mast and there was a large wet patch where Clara had rubbed him close to orgasm. Samuel had asked Clara what happened and she told Samuel that it had been all Billy’s idea … how Billy had forced her hand onto his hard dick, sucked her nipples, and made her rub his cock for him.

Samuel pushed Billy to the ground and laughed at him, saying he was nothing but a church pansy. Then he untied his own pants. He fished out his penis and said that if he didn’t suck his cock as well as Clara, he would punch his face until it was a bloody mess. Samuel’s cock was erect and dripping with pre-cum and Billy knelt before him. He was scared of him. He feared him. He dominated him in a way that made Billy very excited. Clara slapped Billy hard across the face and made him cry. She called him a pervert cocksucker homo. That was true. He accepted it and didn’t move. Clara and Samuel both laughed at him, saying he was nothing but a slave, unworthy of pleasure.

Samuel pushed his cock into Billy’s mouth and Billy held his balls and tasted his salty pre-cum for the first time. Samuel withdraw his cock, telling him to suck Clara’s pussy and if he made them both cum, he would be allowed to leave. Billy licked Clara enthusiastically, tasting her girl’s cum as she sprayed his face. Samuel wasn’t finished with the humiliation – he pissed over the kneeling boy and told him that he had better come back tomorrow or else he would tell Billy’s father, the preacher, that his son was a fucking little homo. Drenched in girl cum and boy piss, Billy had slipped back into his bedroom in the church refractory without anyone noticing him. He was a horny demon, rubbing his cock furiously as he prayed to the devil in gratitude; he could not wait until tomorrow.


Dara Watson inspected the finalization of the construction works. The workman labored in happy ignorance not having any inkling of what exactly they were actually building. The plans reflected an extension to the orphanage, some basement changes, and the installation of back-of-house infrastructure, like a huge furnace. Separate orders from various contractors kept the overall picture unavailable for public or commercial scrutiny. Dara knew exactly what to do, and is well funded by the Westinghouse-Johnson Foundation; they had spent an obscene amount of money; which meant there were really no limitations to their horrific vision.

Once the finishing was completed in a few days, she would have the crated furnishings arrive. These had been arranged from various sources, including some that were not completely legal. Just like they had dreamed of as children, when the barn had been their ‘secret lair’, this new installation would provide the perfect place for Dana, Clara, Samuel, and all of their friends.

Removing her hard hat, she fixed her hair in the mirror before returning to the upper levels of the old orphanage. The state orphanage itself was run by a number of nuns, all sympathetic to the cause. Sister Maria, an attractive and slender woman in her early thirties, who asked about the progress of the works, greeted Dana as she always did with an enigmatic smile.

“Sister Maria, you are looking positively radiant this morning.”

“Doing the Lord’s work always makes me radiant Madame Dara. And talking of the Lord’s work, so how are the renovations coming along?”

“The furnishings, statues, and specially commissioned artworks will all arrive in the next couple of days – all must be ready.”

“Are we on schedule for the Grand Climax?”

“Yes, Sister, our ritual to Ba’al and Ashtaroth will be spectacular.”

“It makes me so wet just talking about it.”

“Sounds like we both are in need of some relief Sister?”

“An invitation for something freaky? Why don’t we use the overnight room?”

“Most definitely.”


Nika sank briefly beneath the surface of the bubbling hot water. It felt so invigorating as the Jacuzzi jets thrust against her skin. She sat forward so that the strong upward water jet focused directly on her clitoris. Clara sat opposite, both mother and daughter were completely naked, as she too used the water jet to pleasure herself. Nika scooted across to lie against her mother, as Clara began to finger her daughter beneath the waterline.

“Tell me what did you do to you governess?” demanded Clara in a sultry but stern voice.

“Mommy … I just told her about the nasty things I like … and she told me that it was okay … that she liked little girls like me … especially ones that do nasty things …”

It had been a strange weekend for Viktoria, Nika’s governess. It started with her faking illness so that she would have to stay at home while her parents left for the weekend. Clara had asked the governess to stay to keep an eye on her and had offered her triple-time rates for the effort. How could she refuse? Viktoria needed the money, even though she had an idea that Nika was up to no good. She had pretended to sleep virtually nude and had left some highly pornographic material on her computer. When Viktoria took her to task, she realized that Nika’s devious motives had created a situation that compromised Viktoria’s values as well as jeopardized her position as governess. Despite her reluctance to participate in Nika’s twisted little game – Viktoria had allowed herself to be drawn in.

Firstly, as Nika sat with her naked bottom against Viktoria’s naked legs, flesh against flesh… little Lolita had shown her governess some of the things that she liked to view on the internet – images that would be considered inappropriate for any young woman, let along an eight-year-old child – but there it was, and Viktoria had begun to frot her clit against her student’s naked behind. The images began with simply very young girls, barely legal, involved in lesbian sex … rubbing, sucking, and licking each other to ecstasy. This had escalated to images and movie files of young girls having sex with various animals; sucking tampons and blood-play; masturbating in their own feces; and the bondage and torture of even younger victims in non-consensual sex.

Nika clicked on a video of a slender black man with an enormous flaccid cock. She smiled at Viktoria and told her to watch the nigger get it … shortly a group of naked young girls, dressed only in pointed white KKK hoods, with slits for their eyes, that concealed their identities. They eagerly gathered around him, as he hung helplessly bound to a large wooden cross. The little girls each took turns to fellate him until his cock was even larger and very erect. Barely able to get the crown of his member into their mouths, they rubbed his long black shaft and sucked on his heavy balls. A large string of pre-cum hung between his huge black mushroom head and one of the girl’s tiny orifices. Their small white hands looked dwarfed against his huge thick phallus and pendulous sacks.

Just as Viktoria was thinking that this was some kind of interracial pedophilic movie, one of the girls took out a long sharp blade. The black man began to scream, as the girl held his penis and then in one blow severed it from the base. Blood shot out like a fountain. It went everywhere from the hole that remained and the girls became covered in it. Covered in blood, they began to kiss, suck and masturbate each other as they danced around the black man who had passed out from the blood loss. The girl-girl sex continued between them. Nika paused the video clip. Viktoria smiled at Nika. She understood her evil desires.

Viktoria was by now more than very horny. Nika was certainly no ordinary eight-year-old for sure… but it seemed she had unlocked some forgotten and closed doors in Viktoria’s head. The two had kissed passionately and Viktoria carried the small girl back to her bed, only to remove the remainder of their clothing. Her mouth licked and sucked every inch of the pre-teen girl, from her perfect little feet to her dainty fingers, from her graceful little neck to the narrow hairless slit of her puss-puss.

She rimmed her and then buried her tongue, burrowing into her pussy like a feral cock, until Nika exploded in orgasmic delight. During the course of the long weekend, Nika and Viktoria shared countless orgasms. Nika had a large collection of these videos that her mother had given her… they were some of her favorites to masturbate to … Viktoria began to better understand how she could serve the Westinghouse-Johnsons’.



“But the men of Sodom were wicked and sinners before the LORD exceedingly. Genesis 13:13 — Likewise also as it was in the days of Lot; they did eat, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built, But the same day that Lot went out of Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven, and destroyed them all. Even thus shall it be in the day when the Son of man is revealed.” Luke 17:28-30

Samuel welcomed his dinner guests in true gentlemanly style. His spotless black dinner suit, black shirt, and bow tie looked extremely sharp. It was an important occasion as every one of them represented a different village, all located in and around Mott Bridge. Father William, Dara Watson, Elizabeth Swan, Simon Eastman, Gillian Winters, and Cameron Ross were more than old acquaintances; as they had all been close friends from childhood. Elizabeth was now the chief psychologist and ran the mental institute in Greywich. Simon was now an esteemed banker from South Woods. Gillian was a criminal lawyer who resided now in Little Creek. And Cameron grew up to be a police profiler for Greywich Police but resided in Old Town. Together they formed a powerful alliance and also shared a secret.

A large semi-circular table was laid out with a long black tablecloth and set for a banquet for eight. Tall red and black candles burned with illumination as the guests took their seats. Towards, what would have been the center of that semi-circle, was a round bed that was also covered with flowing back silken sheets but no pillows for this was not a bed to sleep in, it was intended for the evening’s entertainment.

Once the last guest had been seated, Samuel stood in front of a semi-circular table with a champagne glass in his hand. The reddish liquid could have easily been mistaken for an aged Shiraz. In fact, it was the first menstrual blood of one of the two naked young girls that had been brought from the orphanage.

“In nomine de nostre Satanas: Lucifere excelsis! (In the name of our Satan; the glorious Lucifer!)” announced Samuel raising his glass.

“Lucifere excelsis!” responded the guests as they drank the virgin blood like greedy vampires, a substantial portion of which spilled from the corners of their mouths in an effort to down the contents in one.

“So many years we have gathered here, like tonight, just before Grand Climax, to reaffirm our allegiance as servants of the devil – to corrupt and pervert for our mutual pleasure. To serve the secret voices of our beloved demons, incubi, and succubae, that spoke to us from Hell with the divine desire of the true god of gods.

“Clara my dearest has dedicated this, the celebration of Molekh to the demons Ba’al and Ashtaroth. And in the tradition, as old as the first of us, we shall honor Molekh the Bull in the ancient way.”

The table was alive with an enthusiastic buzz.

“YES, my friends, we will offer human sacrifice and partake in eating the flesh, whilst every perversion is performed to appease Molekh! Hail Molekh! Hail Ba’al! Hail Ashtaroth!”

“Hail Molekh! Hail Ba’al! Hail Ashtaroth!” responded the excited guests.

Eight young boys appeared, none older than eight years, all dressed from the waist up as butlers, but completely naked from the waist down. They donned the table with an amazing spread of delicious foods of all kinds. After serving the guests, they each assumed a position beneath the semi-circular table, kneeling between the legs of each guest – who spread their thighs, open flies, or lift their skirts in preparation. Small hands quickly snake inside and mouths began orally pleasuring the guests.


Elizabeth Swan, an elegant woman in a long black strapless dress, looked like she could have stepped off a Milan catwalk. She groaned as she felt the small hands reach up under the folds of her dress and between her open legs. She never wore underwear to their special dinners, as she already knew from years of involvement with her two dearest friends, Samuel and Clara, that she never leave without her deviant tastes being completely sate. She gasped as the boy’s practiced mouth quickly found her erect clitoris, while his fingers explored her drenched slit. She found it hard to concentrate on anything else, but she really didn’t want to miss tonight’s entertainment.

Clara had mentioned that it was her daughter’s idea to have two half-starved orphans tortured by the eight-year-old in front of the gathering of discerning guests. They would look totally emancipated from being almost starved to death for several months and Nika would punish their weak frail bodies. It was a look that Elizabeth appreciated – she liked her child lovers to extremely bony and flat-chested; from clavicles to ribs, from scapula to protruding hip bones – fucking a skeletal-like girl had always been her preference. Clara had added that her perverted daughter would allow them to eat items from the banquet feast, but only without the use of their hands, eating from dog bowls and only after she’d smothered it in her feces. It sounded like exquisite entertainment.

Elizabeth was very familiar with the bizarre. In fact, being the chief psychologist at Greywich Mental Institute provided her with some unique entertainment of her own. She had been the one who had evaluated Clara’s troublesome brother, Dean, and had him committed indefinitely at her pleasure. They could not afford to have him spouting his mouth off – and while he was under Elizabeth’s direct control, it meant that her dear friends would not come under any unwanted attention or suspicion.

Elizabeth had been an expert witness at a number of trials and had assisted the beautiful and glamorous, Gillian Winters, who had been retained to defend a number of clergy charged with unlawful conduct involving minors, sexual assault, statutory rape, child sexual abuse, and sexual imposition. All were acquitted on the basis of her expert testimony. Of course, all were completely guilty of these crimes and many, many more. Clara and Samuel had joined the victory celebration, providing the wayward priests with every reason to give thanks to their true god.

Other times under the disguise of research in the field of obsessive sexual compulsions, Elizabeth was able to abuse many of her younger patients, especially those with drug addictions. If they didn’t have a drug addiction when they entered the institute, chances were they would be within a short space of time. It was a control mechanism that allowed Elizabeth to get what she wanted – and it was a very successful technique.

She was also a serial voyeur who leaned towards sadism. Pairing up convicted sex offenders, especially those with violent tendencies, feeding them on a diet of hardcore child porn, and then letting them loose upon a young drugged-up child was one of her favorite pastimes. She was not alone in this practice. In fact more than a third of the staff at the institute were previously treated through her programs – their rehabilitation and employment was based upon their sexual relationship with Mistress Swan whose chronic nymphomania was well fed by these frequent and increasing extreme liaisons.

Gillian and Elizabeth had been lovers from an early age, and she was a regular visitor to the institute, often joining in the sex with Elizabeth and many of her staff or entertaining her clients as they used the young and venerable mental patients as their sex toys. Gillian was particularly cruel and had a blood fetish – they both often fantasized about being vampiric lovers – Elizabeth even arranged for them both to bathe in human blood where they drenched themselves in blood before raping a young retard together.

They were college-age when by chance the pair of them had arranged a working holiday to Asia. Their parents had sponsored a ‘cultural exchange’ and the evil pair were posted to a missionary in Cambodia. It was rural and lawless. They were, as Christian missionaries, to assist the local community church with victims of abuse in an area close to the border with the Golden Triangle that had suffered from the ravages of the drug trade, sex tourists, human traffickers, and forced prostitution rings. To the girls, they thought they had found the Garden of Eden.

In a place where there was no fingerprinting, no criminal records, and no authority, save the corrupt police, to address these horrific crimes against human rights – the girls quickly realized the opportunities for exploitation. With very little effort of concealment and a few dollars in the hands of the underworld, the ‘White Devils’ began their cultural exchange with dozens of young victims. Their appetite for perversion was limitless, and as they came close to the end of their missionary work, they escalated their debauchery to live up to the reputation they had begun to earn from the local drug dealers, pimps, and underbelly.

The ‘White Devils’ financed with the mission funds a secret place that they could return to year after year, bringing with them other ‘White Devils’ to abuse, rape, murder, and drink the blood of those they preyed on. Their wealthy parents really believed that the foundation money was being used for sustainability programs and rehabilitation – and in a way, they were right, as the funds did sustain this haven of evil until it was eventually taken over by a more ambitious and more aligned beneficiary – the Westinghouse-Johnson Foundation, that replaced the entire missionary program with people that supported the Foundation’s principles, that could bring about other more radical changes and support the local trades in flesh, sex, and misery. Clara herself had joined the girls; she was nicknamed ‘The Blood Goddess’ and she lived up to her name every year as she vacationed on a diet of pubescent sex partners who were never seen again.


Simon Eastman was well connected to the underground. He was short-tempered, prone to spontaneous violence, and always carried a gun. His daytime career as a successful and wealthy banker was no lie either – his natural aggressiveness and intelligence had made him very good at investment banking; brokering high-stake deals, mergers, de-mergers, and corporate takeovers. It was actually during one of these deals that he found his calling and his long-term friendship with the Westinghouse-Johnson’s gave him access to a sympathetic investor willing to underwrite the production costs of child snuff porn.

They were also very patient investors and certainly gave him the impression that money was no object – exactly how much they had, he didn’t know, but he did know that it wouldn’t run out any time soon. Eastman’s interest in making millions of dollars in this rather special field of entertainment was more than a matter of ‘return on investment’. This was a deeply personal passion of his that he shared with both Samuel and Clara. They had all made a great deal of money this way and at the same time made a lot of their criminal friends rich too.

Actually, he could almost hear the screams of the last victim; in a movie, he had titled “Incest Mum Eats Her Own Baby.” The plot was simple, perverted mum abuses her own daughter from birth; she meets a group of women who are supposed to be a coven of witches and similarly give birth to children so that they can have sex with them and eat them in sexual cannibalism – of course, the baby is eaten by her own mother, and joins their group, only to find herself as a victim of sexual cannibalism, but not before the witches subject her to insertion rape with long sharp dildos.

The formula that they applied was very straightforward and with the Westinghouse-Johnson ‘friends’ network, it was a guarantee of success and Eastman was always very confident of their long-term continued success and re-investment in his art form. Of course, there were always losers in these deals, no less than the star actors or actresses, whose demise would bring great sexual delight to Eastman, his clients, and to all at the Westinghouse-Johnson Foundation.



“Likewise also as it was in the days of Lot; they did eat, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built, but the same day that Lot went out of Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven, and destroyed them all. Even thus shall it be in the day when the Son of man is revealed.” Luke 17: 28-30

Gillian Winters pondered the fate of Sodom, the great city of sin that gave its name to the homosexual act between males; with its huge pornographically decorated temples of sacred prostitutes, daughters of Molekh, that led their congregations, chanting obscenities, as they all plunged headlong into orgies of debasement and sexual debauchery. The people of Sodom knew of the existence of the devil, but instead of fear, they worshiped him through their obsessive compulsion with gluttony, drunkenness, immorality, and sexual sin. Was it so different today? Were the same demons hard at work then as they beset our world now?

Gillian never doubted that the devil was real. He spoke to her and his existence was omnipresent in so many situations that she had encountered as council to the evil perpetrators to which she served. They were the daughters and sons of Molekh – and she was one of them, an insatiable temple whore, who bowed down in worship of the greatness of the dark god and carried his bidding willingly and with gusto. She would defend them in court, destroy the credibility of the victims, turn it around – prey looked like predator … so they would be released and free to re-offend again and again and again … for it was the will of the dark father that the lambs be offered to the wolves to sate their hunger.

She must have been about eleven years old when she first met Clara. They were in the same Mott Bridge Sunday school classes and had immediately become best friends. Clara was so bright, and pretty and knew things that others her age were not supposed to know. It was before the fire that took her parents and Elizabeth’s pious mother had wanted her to follow her family’s tradition that the oldest girl become a Bride of Christ – dedicating herself to the community and selfless in the divine service to the Lord.

Liz had other plans. Clara was her first object of sexual desire and neither wasted any time getting acquainted with the sins of the flesh. Their parents were close parish friends and arranging a night of endless sex was easy in the guise of a sleepover and bible studies. They shared stories of the voices that they had heard; encouraging them to share the pleasures of mutual masturbation, oral sex, and frottage; pursuits that they both eagerly explored. Clara talked about incest and suggested that Liz invite her twin sister to join their evening of bible studies. Liz had been pleasantly surprised at her twin’s acceptance and Clara began the seduction.

They had begun the evening with a giggly exchange of girlishness – nothing too overtly sexual. Clara asked Liz’s sister, Sasha, if she had ever kissed a boy. The answer was apologetically no. Clara suggested that it was not as easy as it sounds and if Sasha and Liz wanted to have a boyfriend, then they had better practice. Clara offered to pretend to be a boy and Liz encouraged her shy twin to practice a kiss on their friend. Reluctantly, Sasha allowed her sister to cover her eyes with a black cloth as she tried to imagine that she was about to kiss her first boy. Clara was in no rush. She was very gentle at first – her butterfly kisses made Sasha give an unconscious little moan.

Swapping places, Liz took over from Clara, unbeknown to her twin. Liz’s kiss was more urgent, more passionate… and again her sister responded, opening her mouth and allowing her twin to tongue kiss her. Clara secretly masturbated watching them commit incest. It was truly beautiful and made her incredibly horny. Clara guided Liz’s hand to her sister’s breast – they were no more than the size of a fried eye. Sasha was about to pull back when Clara told her that was exactly what a boy would do and that she should pretend to enjoy it.

Sasha seemed to relax and Liz pushed her hand inside Sasha’s little crop top and began to massage her tiny nipples. Liz started kissing her sister again, this time Sasha kissed her back, exchanging twisted tongues and moaning without awareness. Sasha placed her hand over Liz’s groping fingers and guided them between her legs. Her face showed a strangely confident and almost wicked smile. Liz couldn’t believe that she had her hand in Sasha’s pants. Her sister was extremely wet.

Sasha laughed nervously and then quickly pulled the blindfold from her eyes. Liz was slow to react but tried to pull her hand away, but again Sasha held it where it was, pushing her twin’s fingers even deeper between the sticky wetness of pre-teen pussy.

“You think I didn’t know what you two were up to? Clara, you are so nasty! And Liz, you think I don’t know what my own sister smells like? Honey that was so hot!”

Clara grinned and Liz looked a little puzzled.

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do that with you?”

“Sasha, I never knew,” stuttered Liz.

“Do didn’t know that I use to kiss your pretty little mouth when I thought you were asleep … I even did naughty things like suck your little titties and taste your pussy juices too.”

Sasha began to finger her sister. Liz kissed Sasha again as they groped each other wildly, eventually laying mouth-to-pussy as they sucked each other’s clits.

Clara was close to orgasm watching the two twin sisters eat each other out. She needed a cock, she needed Samuel – he would be so proud of her and then he would grab her hips and fuck her hard and fast!


Visiting day. Samuel waited out of sight as Clara visited her younger brother, Dean. It had been a few months since her last visit, but life was like that, so much to do and precious little time to do it in. Liz joined Samuel behind the one-way mirror, both stripped down to nakedness. Liz immediately sank to her knees between Samuel’s legs and wrapped her lips around the crown of his cock. From behind the one-way glass they could both see and hear everything from inside the cell-like room.

Dean lay naked on a gurney, his arms, and legs secured with straps. Clara entered the room and looked expectantly into the mirror – she knew that they would be watching. Dean didn’t say a word as Clara approached. She stroked his balls and limp cock gently and smiled at him. Dean began to cry. He tried to sit up, but his constraints prevented him from doing so.


“Why? You know you like it fucker?”

Dean turned his head towards the mirror, he could clearly see his sister Clara had stripped naked beside her eight-inch heels, garter belt, and fishnet stockings and was touching herself between the legs. Dean shook like crazy against his constraints … his mind twisted with childhood trauma as flashbacks of ungodly incest and perversion flooded back.

It was All Hollow’s Eve and most of the children in Mott Bridge were dressed in colorful costumes and happily collecting sweet surprises around the village square. Not Dean. Clara and Samuel had dressed like a nun and a priest respectively with their upper faces concealed behind white theatrical masks. It made them both look rather looked sinister. They had dressed him up in a sheet with holes for eyes, telling him that he was supposed to be a ghost. He wanted to be Superman or a cowboy, but they had insisted that he must wear this costume or else they were not going to take him out. He hated it but did it because he didn’t have a real choice. They teased him about being scared. Dean proclaimed that he wasn’t. He told them that their mother had said that it was all make-believe and that there weren’t such things as monsters – that it in fact the over-active imagination of childhood.

Clara smiled at Dean and asked him if he believed in God. He answered that he did, adding that God is good and protects us all. Clara asked from whom does God protect us? Dean didn’t have an answer to this question. Clara answered for him by saying that God is supposed to protect us from the Devil. Dean thought about it … it kind of made sense. Clara continued, saying the Devil was from a place called Hell and that he had many demons that served him. Dean asked what a demon was. The argument came full circle. Clara said that demons were evil and that they spoke to us through dreams – like nightmares … they are monsters Dean … mom is wrong, the Devil and his demons are real and that is why we celebrate All Hallows Eve … for it is a celebration of the night of the Devil and that all good child need to listen to him.

Dean was unsure about it. He didn’t like the fact that Mom had got it wrong. He didn’t like that there were monsters after all. It made him shiver. Clara said that they promised to do something at the old barn tonight … and it was the first stop. Dean asked Clara why did they have to go to that old creepy place when there would be nobody there. Samuel had told him to stop whining and he would soon find out.

It was early evening and the sun had already gone down. Inside the smelly old barn, Samuel wasted no time and aggressively pushed him to the dirty ground. He stood over him as he pulled the ghost costume from Dean. The eight-year-old was simply not strong enough to stop him as he dragged Dean to one of the metal pipes that ran horizontally about six inches above Dean’s head height where he secured by the wrists leaving him in a semi-hanging position. The expressionless masked priest looked so menacing. Dean was very scared of him and cried for them to stop; he wanted to go home. He was afraid of the Devil. When his sister, dressed as the evil-looking nun, cut the other clothing away from his body leaving him hanging naked from the pipe, his heavy crying turned to shaking and gasping out of breath from sobbing so hard. He was now completely naked. Tears and snot rained down his lower face as he tried to scream at them to stop, but couldn’t get anything out properly in his breathlessness.



“Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith: neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto: it is confusion. Leviticus 18:23 –And if a woman approach unto any beast, and lie down thereto, thou shalt kill the woman, and the beast: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.” Leviticus 20:16

The forensic photography of the bound victim and the crime scene were extremely graphic. The amount of blood was incredible. The investigating officer, Daniel Boston, handed Dr. Cameron Ross a small box of materials, some bagged evidence, a long knife, and the laboratory results of DNA, blood, and other trace evidence for his considerate study. Boston still needed to identify the victim; establish some kind of motive and then find a clue that could lead to the arrest of the suspect or suspects involved. He had mumbled something about any common modus operandi that could link this murder to any other that the Doctor was aware of; could it be the work of a serial murderer maybe? Could it be a hate crime; or maybe some kind of racial thing? As usual, Cameron knew that the hapless Greywich authorities had no ideas on this one.

That evening Doctor Ross had examined every piece of evidence over and over – the knife, the photos gave him an unsettling feeling. Finally, in the early hours, he turned in and as the Doctor slept, he was overwhelmed by a dreamy vision, that seemed to unfold in the light sleepiness between night and morning when one is unsure about what is truly real or make-believe. The facts of the case seemed to un-jumble like the pieces of the jigsaw and join to create a picture, only to re-jumble again and create an even more bizarre picture … this process unfolded in the blink of an eye, but in Cameron’s dream world it seemed like an eternity …

… He saw six petite young girls naked with tiny little mounds, puffy pink nipples, and hairless vaginas. They were laughing together, at first almost unaware of their desirability as they danced around each other until they started to touch each other inappropriately. What appeared to be girly giggles and immature pre-teen fun, quickly turned to salaciousness as they rubbed and groped each other lewdly, kissing each other with open mouths as their faces looked flushed with sexual desire and it was clearly evident that they were all highly aroused …

… The dream seemed to fast-forward as they all donned white pointed hats with slits for their eyes that made them look like the Ku Klux Klan. Around their necks hung inverted crosses and inverted pentagrams – the signs of devil worship. Then the scene changed as dreams do without any logic of sequence or proper narration. The girls stood masturbating in a semi-circle. Cameron guessed that they could not be older than ten or eleven, but they touched themselves like practiced whores. Over their shoulders, he could see that they were no longer alone, as they surrounded a naked nigger – a tall lanky beast with a flaccid cock that hung helplessly from a Saint Andrew’s cross that was made of what appeared to be old railway sleepers …

… The tiny girls wasted no time in sucking his cock and balls, licking and trying shallow his disgusting nigger sex organs. He seemed to be genuinely distressed by what the girls were doing but still became erect. Cameron felt only revolt at such a sight. Filthy niggers didn’t deserve such treatment. His long black cock stood straight upwards and grew to the size of a baseball bat from between his slender black thighs. The girls took turns and continued to lavish his obscene phallus with the attention of their hands and mouths; his hips bucked against their eager mouths despite his bondage predicament. Cameron’s hate for this nigger grew stronger and stronger. Even in his dream-like state, he could feel only contempt and disgust for this animal whose copious amounts of pre-cum dripped like long threads of stickiness from the mushroom-shaped black dome and the mouths of these Lolitas …

… Suddenly and without warning, one of the smaller girls in the group produced a long sharp blade – the others cheered and chanted even stranger ancient names.

… “Hail Molekh, Hail Ba’al, Hail Ashtaroth …”

…. At this point the nigger began to scream too – he pleaded for them to stop. Cameron didn’t want them to stop – he wanted them to hurt this bastard nigger. It was as if they were awaiting his instruction … waiting for the moment when he would give them permission to cut his dick off. Cameron became overwhelmed with excitement, disgust changed to deviant pleasure; uncontrollable lust filled his mind as he shouted to the girl ‘Cut the fucking nigger’s cock off’… and she did. Blood sprayed absolutely everywhere; like a red fountain over the white bodies of the young girls as they danced around his shaking remains. They kissed and fornicated with each other crying out their love and devotion for Molekh …

As quickly as it started, the dream ended.

Cameron awoke sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his body drenched with sweat – his cock exploded with an incredibly strong orgasm, and semen splashed across his chest and face. He gasped to get his breathing under control. What had just happened? The dream had been so vivid, so real … the facts seemed to fall into place, the victim, an Afro-American male who had died of blood loss from castration and had been found naked and bound, hanging limply from a cross-like structure formed from a railway sleeper. His severed penis was nowhere to be found. The graphic photography flashed past his mind. The footprints of bare feet in the blood had been that of several perpetrators, maybe half a dozen, all with very small feet; the feet of Children.

The profiler thought about the scenario; a snuff film; the work of a true artist with the backing of serious money. This would be a crime that would have no conclusion – just another vagrant black male with no identity who met an unpleasant end. So fucking what – the nigger deserved it. He was nothing, and nobody would report him missing. The Doctor would file his report as inconclusive in the afternoon.


The underground chamber looked almost complete. This was no doubt an ambitious project, but the fruits of their labor seemed to be coming together. Dara and Clara had both been personally supervising the finishing touches over the more explicit aspects of their secret temple. The regular workers were now long gone, and those close to the Foundation were now called upon. The phallic idols of Ba’al and Ashtaroth took center stage; every surface of the walls had been lovingly decorated in highly pornographic imagery depicting sex between humans and demons – as it had been in Sodom. Clara had obsessed with the details in terms of the placement of where the human sacrifices would be made and how their blood would be collected. All would come together on the night of the Grand Climax.

Clara had dismissed everyone for the evening and closed the heavy double doors so that Dara and she could be alone in their secret temple.

“Let us pray together Ethbaal,” said Clara as she dressed in her long white Canaanite dress.

Dara smiled at her. Standing against the concealed up-lights she could clearly see Clara’s beauty through the sheer material.

“Unholy Jezebel, incestuous mother, slut of the Devil, you make me want to touch myself,” snarled Dara touching herself as she spoke.

“Ethbaal, blasphemous creation of my cunt, whore-priestess from thy womb, you make me want to touch myself too.”

The two women embraced each other and kissed passionately grinding their hips against each other.

“Tomorrow night, the procession will dance through the great doors and with take their places in the pews on either side of the raised altar.”

Clara gestured towards the doors and pointed the short distance to the pews.

“Then the young ones to be offered to Ba’al and Ashtaroth, joined by the neck in a daisy chain and will be brought naked in front of the blood font. My daughter shall lead them to their fate. They will be each tied to stakes with their legs apart and the arms stretched above their heads.”

Again she walked and pointed to the exact locations as she explained.

“Samuel will lead the rites and there will be much pomp and ceremony before they are each raped by the high priests and priestess.”

The women both masturbated as they discussed the night’s proceedings.

“Clara, and what will happen after they are raped my dearest?” asked the excited Dara, hanging on Clara’s every word.

“… Then we shall kill them, drink their blood, and eat them as the great orgy in honor of Ba’al and Ashtaroth begins.”


Clara had returned home. The sex with Dara had been exhilarating but exhausting. Their role-play of mother and daughter, of Jezebel and Ethbaal, had been highly perverted – the scat and blood-play had left an incredible mess.

There was much to do in the final preparation, but she was also physically and emotionally drained. As she stripped, she simply let her stained clothes fell to the floor and left them on a small trail as she made her way to the bedroom. She had a strong desire to sleep – even stronger than to rinse the dried blood and feces from her body.

Within seconds of lying down, she was out cold. As the world slipped away, dreams of Ba’al and Ashtaroth had her. Her devilish inner voices sang their malevolent praise of what ‘Jezebel’ had done and of these events yet to pass. She saw Samuel and herself with them, standing among these ghoulish evil beasts, no longer human, but something else… and seeing through demon eyes, she spied a traitor among her flock.

Someone, she had trusted, who had turned towards the light. Why had she not seen it before? How had the evidence escaped her attention? The demons said that she must make an example of them – all was not lost, actually quite the contrary — it would be a great victory and a high point of ritual to expose and offer the traitor to them – it was not too late, evil would prevail and the ritual would be the beginning of their new faith. The conspirators must be punished.

In her dream, the ritual of Ba’al and Ashtaroth was just about to begin. She felt a strong sense of Déjà Vu. She could see that there were dozens of naked child sacrifices about to be offered – some were to be hung up to be raped and bleed among her brethren, some to be cast alive into the fires of the belly of Ba’al, some to be impaled upon the phallus poles of the altar of Ashtaroth … but the climax was to the turncoat revealed, their plan foiled and laid to waste as they realized the futility of their efforts and saw then their true fate at the hands of the devil’s clerics. She saw her husband, Samuel – strong, purposeful, and totally evil take their revenge upon the traitor. There was to be no quarter shown, no mercy whatsoever.

She began to orgasm.



“And Judah did evil in the sight of the LORD, and they provoked him to jealousy with their sins which they had committed, above all that their fathers had done.” 1 Kings 14:22

The faint sound of the Mott Bridge choir singing their final hymn for the day drifted across the village green as the last of the afternoon sun cast its deep long shadows. It was a peaceful moment, like the eye of a hurricane passing over the village, as the congregation began to spill from the open mouth of the rural parish doorway. Across the other side of the village, another congregation was beginning to gather.

Father William thanked the last of his parishioners, closing the tall wooden church doors as he finally left his godly flock behind. His cock was already rock hard beneath his priestly vestments, as his mind turned to thoughts of what was about to transpire elsewhere. The orphanage was but only a short distance away and within a few minutes, in rapid strides, he was already there and welcomed at the secret threshold by two of his most devious and intimate of friends, Dara Watson and Elizabeth Swan. Both women were in a state of undress as they kissed each other with a wildness that stirred the evil Father even further between the legs.

“Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth … Matthew chapter five, versus five,” said Father William, as he entered the small but private anti-chamber.

His hands caressed the flesh of Dara’s exposed bottom.

“And Father, we shall rape the meek, burn them alive, eat their flesh, and take back what is rightfully ours,” replied Dara as she fondled the obvious bulging front of his embroidered frock and Elizabeth continued sucking hungrily upon Dara’s exposed breasts.

“It is almost time for you to take the altar and make your praise be known, Father. We have all looked forward to tonight. We must do the deeds our demon lovers have foretold,” said Elizabeth.

She lifted her head momentarily from the tips of Dara’s spit-wet nipples.

“And praise we shall; to our Father in Hell. My demons have given me an urgency like never before; an evil sermon to stir us in the divine worship of our beloved Ba’al and Ashtaroth – hailing the first of many cannibal rituals in Molekh’s honor!”

With that the priest lead the way into the temple proper and the women closed the heavy outer doors behind them.


Clara watched with knowing eyes. Inside she felt on fire. She scrutinized her evil colleagues especially the one the demons had told her would plan to subvert them at their moment of truth. She had mentioned nothing of this treachery to anyone except her darling Samuel, for fear of alerting others who may have also succumbed to the light. Traitors all. The demons in her dreams had forewarned her; and thought they were not specific about when or how … at least she knew whom. Instinct said that there could be others.

She touched herself between the legs. Her cunt was so wet. As her eyes followed Father William, she observed him walking closely with Dara and Elizabeth. She could also see Simon, Gillian, Cameron, and several of the Sisters from the orphanage staff. They waited for Viktoria, as she escorted Clara’s little demonic cherub, Nika, to the front of a line of young orphans who were all dressed in nothing but tiny loincloths. Others joined them, as the chamber began swelling until their numbers had reached sixty-six. It was to be the largest gathering since the Winter Solace.

How exciting the Winter Solace had been that year. The ritual had been nothing short of an all-night orgy of sex and blood. It had been a night that had begun with mockery of the birth of Christ, in Bethlehem, in a manger, where a newborn was to have been offered; the baby Jesus; the Holy Child. She remembered how the young couple who had willingly played the parts of Joseph and Mother Mary, had not known the true nature of their evil rite – they believed it was a real Christian nativity play.

Clara could only begin to imagine their dreadfulness in the realization of the audience’s intent, as the stable scene was transformed into an altar for devil worship – where Joseph, Mary, and baby in swaddling clothes were all to be stripped and bound, abused, and raped; and eventually killed for the glory of Satan. Their pleads for mercy; and eventual screams had been so delightful; their dread had been inspiring all of the evil brethren; and watching the devilish Samuel impale the young baby upon his thick cock, as he danced lewdly with it obscenely hanging impaled upon his loins … the couple who had made their entry to the stage as Joseph and Mary looked on these acts in abject horror.


The faithful remained very quiet as one of their own, the highly revered Father William, made his way to the center of the temple proper and stepped upon the raised altar platform.

“Evil deeds my brothers and sisters,” he started, “Evil deeds will be done here tonight, as we gather in sin together for the Grand Climax to celebrate and pay homage to the great gods, Ba’al and Ashtaroth. Hail Ba’al! Hail Ashtaroth!” preached Father Williams waving his arms above his head.

“Hail Ba’al! Hail Ashtaroth!” replied his eager congregation.

They were no longer in the church, but all in the new temple chamber. Father Williams was no longer dressed in his priestly robe but instead stood completely naked and erect upon the raised altar. The congregation was no longer in pews with hymnbooks and bibles, but instead exposed themselves, some already masturbating as they waited for their long-awaited perverted sex ritual to begin in earnest.

Dozens of naked children openly cried as they hung helplessly, some in medieval-looking cages, others from heavy chains that kept their limbs taught and suspended them around the perimeter of the magnificent temple – hung like unhappy Christmas baubles or nailed up like unfortunate animal trophies in a hunting club … all to be admired before being offered to evil spirits by the sixty-six sex-crazed devil worshipers.


Sasha had felt great remorse for what she had done with her twin sister. Despite her own sexual desires for incest, deep down she had felt she was a bad person. Initially, she had been scared of Clara, Liz’s friend. There was something about her that was just plainly evil. It was the way she knew every sexual perversion – like a psychotic adult in the body of a pretty little girl. She was all pigtails and malice.

After their initial sexual experiments together, Sasha had faked her continued interest, as her own self-loathing, religious disgust and growing resentment percolated within her. She had escaped this continuous sexualization and onslaught of wantonness through her extra-curricular interests that had taken her away from Mott Bridge, to the Royal Dance Academy in Greywich. But she had never forgotten what had taken place. She also had kept a close eye on the festering wickedness that had consumed her identical twin, as she surrounded herself with her posse of twisted and vicious friends.

It had been in her much later years, that she had accidentally found out that the infamous Clara Westinghouse-Johnson had a brother, who had disappeared into an asylum. Those wild stories he had told of forced incest; to her at least, did not seem so far-fetched. She had secretly met with her brother Dean only to find out how deep the well of iniquity went. She could not forgive herself for her own sexual sins. She would burn in hell for eternity for this; but she could not stand by and allow an innocent, who as a boy had been repeatedly abused, to be held at the pleasure of demons. She did the one thing that her conscious told her to do, despite the constant nightmares of sexual devilry that plagued her night after night, spurring her to molest the helpless and give in to her dark desires.

She knew that she had allowed these perversions of nature to hold her captive and that with the greatest of endeavors, had turned towards the light in search of a sliver of redemption. She could not save her soul, but she could save a man. Given a chance, he would know what to do … and he would not hesitate to act upon his freedom of choice and rid Mott Bridge of its evil clan. As they gathered on the unholy night of the Grand Climax, they would be vulnerable; to someone who knew what they were up to … such a person may take the chance to deliver the village from its cancer.

The poisonous venom would be preoccupied with their indulgent rites; they would not expect one of their own to turn against them; to take the opportunity to destroy them – once and for all. It would be an audacious plan and one that would be fought with difficulties – but still, it must be done. They must all die, all of them. Not one could be spared, not even the polluted children that performed their devilish dances as they paraded their pre-teen sexuality as if it were anything but a gross perversion of God’s natural order.


Dean had been stronger than she had initially thought – years of abuse she assumed would have taken its toll on him, weakening him into nothing more than a compliant victim – but she had been wrong. He shared her belief and though she never told him about her own sexual sins … sins of incest and homosexuality … of the abuse of others much younger than herself, under the watchful eye of her twin and the malicious Clara… she thought that detail could be left out of the equation.

He was motivated. He was courageous. He was willing to risk it all, for a chance to rid the town of the scourge that had killed both his parents – he remembered it all, as if it were only yesterday, his adult mind piecing together the fragments of a childish memory to comprehend the incomprehensible. He hated them, especially his older sister and her betrothed Samuel. He had imagined the sweetness of revenge for decades. He had imagined bringing them both to their knees – and in the face of God, they would be smitten – an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It could end only one way. He knew exactly what to do.




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