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: WS, Scat, Sacrilegious, NC, Drug Use, Cohesion, Rape.
CREATED: 12.05.2012 / REVISITED: 26.07.2023
Fool
SECRET MEANING OF THE FOOL
The Fool is filled with lusty curiosity and the spirit of youthful eagerness and enthusiasm that knows no boundary. Swept up in the euphoric innocence of sexual discovery, the search is the first of many steps along a new path that excites and inspires with the energy and feeling that every hole should be filled. The Fool would sense it, feel it, without knowing or questioning, that it’s reflected in the biological imperative. To the Fool, sexuality is but an innocent dance that he or she attacks with an indefatigable capacity for producing the abundant energy, and fluids, for love. It is the start of a new sexual journey, sexual independence, erotic adventures, sexual forces in full play, rebellion against sexual taboos, and orgasmic extravagance. Unlimited, unrestrained by convention; it leads to a loss of virginity; a new lover who takes you to new levels of sexuality and spirituality; going beyond one’s sexual experience into new areas; towards sexual ambivalence, bisexuality, or homosexuality.
THE FOOL – PROLOGUE (212 WORDS)
“But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ … And no wonder, for Satan, himself masquerades as an angel of light … It is not surprising, then, if his servants masquerade as servants of righteousness. Their end will be what their actions deserve.” — 2 Corinthians chapter 11 verse 3
Excerpts from “The child in question” by Diana Gittins
It is interesting to note that in Hellenic culture there was a god of masturbation called Pan. It was said that masturbation was governed by the goat god of nature, who invented it and its practice was an expression of him. The mythological statement says that masturbation is an instinctual, natural activity invested by the goat for the shepherd. Pan is also attributed to be the god of nightmares, panic, and rape. When Pan is alive then nature is too, and it is filled with gods; when Pan is dead, then nature can be controlled by the will of the new god. As the human loses personal connection with personified nature and personified instinct, the image of Pan and the image of the Devil merge; Pan never died; he was just repressed.
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THE FOOL – CHAPTER 1 – THE SEEDING (2,632 WORDS)
“You are a child of the devil and an enemy of everything that is right! You are full of all kinds of deceit and trickery. Will you never stop perverting the right ways of the Lord?” — ACTS chapter 13 verse 10.
My story begins when I was still a very young boy. I grew up in the orphanage of the Our Lady the Holy Mother Mary. It was located in remote farming districts, far away from prying eyes. Our Lady was not a maternal heaven. It was a cruel place, an uncaring institute, filled with malicious authority and forgotten children. The last place anyone would want to live out those vulnerable years.
The orphanage itself was very old brick and tile buildings over-run with creeping ivy; set against the woodlands to the north and west; orchards to the south and east. It had seen better days and my memory of it was oppressive and evil. Inside it smelled of boiled cabbage, wood polish, and disinfectant. It was overcrowded with unwanted children of various ages up to thirteen years, who were always tired and hungry.
The monks would be dressed in dull grey habits and the Sisters would be dressed in their distinctive wimples and waist-chain rosary beads. They seemed to be eternally on religious guard – more like prison wardens than caregivers.
Sister Madeline was in charge of our dormitory. She was younger than some of the other nuns. Though her body was slender body and petite of build, her cane struck fear into all of us. She showed no mercy. Though I loathed her, I did recognize that she had a very pretty face… but she never smiled unless she was canning one of us; a task that she seemed to relish above anything else.
Her rules were simple, do what you are told or else you will be severely punished and one of my contemporaries had the scars to prove it. Every day, the hours of light were filled with chores performed by the heartless monks and nuns. They would make us work relentlessly with no time for childhood distractions. Extreme physical punishment was administered on a regular basis in a very public manner – to remind us all that God was not benevolent; he cared not for the forgotten children of Our Lady. Heaven was only there for those willing to denounce worldly pleasures – his love was to be earned by a lifetime dedicated to religious servitude, penance, and abstinence.
It was the summer of what must have been about my eleventh birthday, though at the time, I never knew what a birthday was. I was becoming one of the older kids in the orphanage. The dorms were stark rooms with two double bunks in each room, with doors leading left and right from a central corridor. It was always too hot in summer and freezing in winter.
The place always smelt rancid; and at night, was filled with the sounds of juveniles snoring or coughing. I had been afraid of the dark and in those younger years, my nights were filled with frequent nightmares that had me awaken sweating and frightened; with no one to console or comfort me. My years at the orphanage seemed to be best described as tortured in the daytime by the religious monsters and tortured at nighttime by my private evil dreams.
It was during one of those uncomfortable steamy nights that I dreamt a very different kind of dream for the first time. It had been a long day and I climbed into my bunk and fell asleep almost immediately that my head met the pillow.
In my dream, I found myself leaning up against the run-down picket fence of one of the remote apple orchards that surrounded the rambling grounds of the orphanage. It must have been late in the evening, as the sun was just hanging above the hills, casting long deep shadows across the ground and silhouetting the crooked old trees against the reddish-pink sky. The air smelt of the sickly apple blossom mixed with hay from the adjacent fields … I could feel the warmth from the setting sun.
I felt that I was not alone in the orchard. At first, a gentle voice spoke to me, telling me not to be afraid. It was warm and reassuring. It talked about God in the first person, as if it was God. It could have been God, but I had never heard the voice of God before. A mystical figure appeared against the light of the setting sun, with a shadow that looked, unlike anything I had seen before. As the figure approached, it became obvious that it was the source of the resonant voice.
“Yes, you can call me God if you wish,” answered the mystic creature, as if reading my thoughts.
It was about the same height as me. It resembled a boy of my age from the waist up with miniature horns on either side of its forehead, but from the waist down, he had the hairy cloven hoof legs of a goat.
“Yes, I am known by many names across these lands. Divine names, secret names … some call me the God of Nightmares … or the God of Dreams and Fantasies … but you can call me Pan if you like.”
As Pan spoke to me, I began to be aware of his nakedness and mine too.
“Like … like Peter Pan?” I asked naively.
Pan laughed, “Yes Michel,” he knew my name, “Just like Peter Pan.”
I thought about his words and inquired.
“If you are God, have I died? Is this heaven?”
Again Pan laughed.
“No silly. It’s just a dream … now come on let’s play.”
He nimbly skipped off between the trees, leaving me to scramble after him on my bare feet across the peaceful orchard. He suddenly stopped at a large old tree.
“I know a nice game we can play,” Pan turned on the spot, “It is called dare, dare, double dare… would you like to play?”
“What do you have to do?” I asked inquisitively.
“Well … I’ll go first. You must pick one … dare, dare, double dare, is the monster asleep in his lair? Dare, double dare, kiss, command, or promise?” said Pan.
I pondered his riddle for a few seconds.
“Dare,” I answered confidently.
Nobody had given me such attention before. I liked the feeling of being talked to and included in such a secret game.
“Let’s start with something simple … let me see … I dare you to make it go hard,” Pan said, pointing to my limp penis.
I was not sure what to say or what to do.
“I dare you to rub it and make it hard … remember, I am God and you don’t want to disappoint me, do you?” Pan smiled mischievously at me, “Let me show you how.”
He took his own limp penis in his right hand and began to slowly rub his foreskin back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Quickly it became turgid and by the look of his face, I could see that he was enjoying the sensation; as he continued, his penis sprung to life, standing upright and very hard between his furry thighs.
“It feels good. Do it, Michel. Touch yourself like this.”
I followed Pan’s lead and my penis rapidly became hard. It was exciting watching him and matching his change of pace as he began to rub himself faster and faster.
“It’s called masturbation. Doesn’t it feel good? Masturbate Michel … faster! Dare you to masturbate faster!”
He encouraged me as I gripped my little organ and rubbed my foreskin back and forth – all the time watching Pan and feeling an electric excitement through my entire body.
He stopped rubbing himself.
“Are you ready for the next part of the secret game?”
I nodded.
My heart rate was elevated and actually, I reluctantly stopped rubbing myself.
“You like it, don’t you?”
I nodded again enthusiastically between panting to get my breath back.
“Good, then dare, dare, double dare, is the monster asleep in his lair? … Dare, double-dare, kiss, command, or promise?”
“C-command” I answered coyly.
“Arrrhhh! It is one of my favorites Michel. I command you to rub my cock as I rub yours.”
The word ‘cock’ itself felt like a trigger word in my young mind … just like the word ‘secret’ gave me a taboo feeling to our nocturnal activities. It felt forbidden and naughty; and with this, he slid his body close to mine and I felt his expert fingers wrap themselves around the girth of my little cock and eagerly I followed his lead.
“That’s it, you’re going to like our secret games, Michel. Now rub my cock, like you were rubbing your own, but only faster … grip it tighter … rub it much harder … that’s it … ooh, it feels so horny.”
It felt extremely exciting to touch another boy’s ‘cock’ and I soon got the hang of it. It felt really horny being touched by another, especially by the hand of God.
“Call my secret name as you do it … Pan, God of Masturbation.”
I repeated after Pan.
“Pan, God of Masturbation.”
I felt like there was a volcano building inside my little balls … suddenly, without any warning, my body began to shake uncontrollably, and my legs went to jelly … Pan seemed to be expecting my body’s reaction to the blurred movements of his tightly gripped fingers around my virgin flesh … he turned to face me and quickly bent to my waist height. Just as I began to ejaculate for the first time, his mouth caught spurt after spurt of my boy jism juices, as I moaned uncontrollably in orgasmic surprise.
At that point, I abruptly awake from this powerful and vivid dream. Sweating profusely and completely out of breath, but not in the usual state of fright from some harrowing nightmare; it was more out of surprise of the intensity of pleasure from my first orgasmic release.
I found my right hand beneath my nightshirt. My fingers curled around my softening little cock. The inside of my nightshirt was soaked in a stickiness that I vaguely connected to the unexpected sensations of being masturbated by God. I brought my sticky fingers to my mouth to taste my juices. It seemed totally blasphemous, but I couldn’t wait to repeat the performance.
“Thank you,” I thought, “Thank you, Pan, God of Masturbation.”
The dawn light began to stream from the uncovered window, and I knew that the nuns would be waking us shortly to begin the work of the day. I wished I could just drift back to sleep again. But I knew that was not going to happen. Soon the dorm was filled with the noise of children reluctantly getting up to the motivation of a zealous young nun, banging the underside of a frying pan and a wooden ladle together.
I could not wait for the dorm lights to go out the next night. I had been thinking about the other younger three boys in my dorm all day. Thinking unclean thoughts about rubbing their cocks, and them rubbing mine, just as I had done in my dream-like state with Pan. As I thought about my dream, I became immediately erect and started to leak a clear fluid into my underpants.
I wanted to masturbate desperately, but there were few opportunities under the vigilant eyes of the nuns, I figured it would have to wait. Finally, it was lights out in the dorm and I closed my eyes and tried to imagine being back in the orchard. My hands snaked their way beneath my nightshirt, rubbing myself for all it was worth. Pan appeared again immediately, as he had done the night before in the orchard twilight. His cock was already hard.
“I see you are eager to play some more secret games with your God?” he said as his hand idly stroked my erect cock that dripped with pre-ejaculate.
“You have been thinking about your roommates today? Thinking about touching them the same way that we have been touching … and masturbating each other?”
I nodded and moaned lewdly as he rapidly brought me close to orgasm. Keeping me close to the edge, but in his complete control. I could hear the sound of a primitive drum beat coming from beyond the next row of trees and the light from a bonfire guided Pan and myself towards it.
In the clearing between the heavy orchard trees, there were a group of about a dozen completely naked boys, all my age or younger. They were all dancing and gyrated, and bucking their hips back and forth to the insistent beat in the firelight. As they danced, they masturbated themselves and chanted out loud to their god, Pan.
“Pan, God of Sex! Pan, God of Cocks!”
I masturbated vigorously watching this unbelievable scene unfold before my eyes. I stared at their naked nubile bodies illuminated in the flames of the fire. The boys stroked the flesh of their cocks back and forth, as I did.
“See, you are not alone Michel. You are part of our secret tribe … and like you, they all worship Pan … they worship my cock and offer their sexual juices to me … come masturbate with your brothers … there is much to share with them in our secret nighttime orgies.”
As I began to chant his name, found myself too, masturbation dancing among my new young friends. We all knelt around him in a loose circle, each masturbating ourselves slavishly, as the God of Cocks approached one of us on the circumference. Looking at their faces, they were all filled with ecstasy as they accelerated toward their anticipated orgasm.
Pan stood with his hands on his hips in the center of the circle – his cock seemed much bigger, longer, and thicker than it had done the night before. Its veined length curled upwards like a banana from between his large hairy sacks pointing towards his chest. At the tip, his foreskin was completely peeled back to reveal its angry purple head that seemed to shine with wetness from his godly lubricants.
I watched in total wonderment as one of the young children took hold of Pan’s thick shaft and began licking its length, from the base of the tip. He then began to suck at God’s bulbous cock head whilst massaging his heavy balls – lapping up the copious juices that bubbled from his angry man-size meat. Each boy performed the same task until at last it was my turn. Pan snarled at me with an evil grin.
“Worship me with my mouth.”
At first, I gingerly put my tongue forward, but with some encouragement from Pan’s hand, he pushed my head forward, almost gagging me on his delicious tool. My mind was swimming with new possibilities. The taste and texture of his cock in my mouth were driving me crazy with lust.
As I sucked it with great gusto, the others chanted over and over “God of Cocks” until I felt Pan suddenly erupt into my mouth. There was so much semen that I thought I was going to choke on the endless stream that spurted forth from the eye of his cock. Unable to swallow anymore, it overflowed, leaking out of the corners of my mouth and down my front, hanging like a viscous cascade.
That night I awake with a strong salty aftertaste in my mouth and was glad to find that it was still dark – I masturbated continuously until dawn fantasizing about how to worship Pan, the God of Cocks, with some of the other boys in my dream – each time I ejaculated in my mouth, I prayed to God for more.
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THE FOOL – CHAPTER 2 – EUTHORIA OF SIN (2,760 WORDS)
“Indulgence instead of abstinence … but not compulsion.” Anton LaVey taught his followers to indulge in every sin because they all lead to physical and emotional happiness. Compulsions, he said, are never created by indulging but by being unable to indulge.” — Satanic Bible by Magus Tsirk Susej
That night during my dreamlike state, I found myself once. again in the eerie darkened garden. Everything felt primal and primitive. The beating drums and sounds of masturbation surrounded me in the shadows of the orchard. Pan was waiting and waved to me to join him at the base of one of the old trees with its twisted roots. As I came closer I could see his body rising and falling, whilst straddling a large tree root. He looked me directly in the eyes, as he masturbated himself.
He stopped his seesaw movement and brought both his hoofed legs to one side of the exposed tree root. Looking down there was a smooth-tipped knob of wood that stood upright from the tree’s roots that resembled an eight-inch erect penis. The upright appendage looked slimy from being inside Pan’s rear.
“Lick it,” he said, “Lick it for your God!”
He made it sound like a test.
I knelt next to the tree root and gingerly put my tongue on its surface. It had a nasty bitter taste.
“Suck it. Put it in your mouth,” I did as I was told, “Good Michel. Very good.”
He was masturbating furiously as I performed this nasty task for his amusement.
“Get on top of it, like I just did, that’s it, put it against the opening of your anus.”
I straddled the dirty old knob and hovered over it, hoping that it would not hurt. Pan straddled the branch in front of me rubbing our cocks together as he pushed my weight slowly downwards. The tip of the wooden appendage pushed deeper past my rectum and slowly penetrated upwards deep into my bowels. The pain was sharp as I begin to slip downs its length as the thin wooden penis filled my virgin hole. Pan drew me up its length and down again. Each time the pain seemed to be less and less. My hard little cock oozed with pre-ejeculate as the rhythm began to increase. We tongue-kissed vigorously as our up-down motion continued.
Pan turned around with his back to me as I took over the movements without his assistance.
“Do you want to cum hard Michel? Do you want an even stronger orgasm?” he asked rhetorically.
Pan the God of Masturbation knew the answer. He bent forward and parted his buttocks to reveal his hairy anus so that now I looked directly at his dirty hole.
“Then I will let you only after you have tasted it from the source Michel. Lick my butthole, put your tongue inside me.”
As I tasted his anus, I came so hard in my dream that I screamed out. Maybe it had been only in my dream, but it had felt so real I was not sure that my dormitory mates would have noticed. Maybe I had become too distracted by the incredible power of my first-ever orgasms, but maybe my nocturnal activities had been noticed by one or more of my dormitory mates.
Toby was the same age as me and was new to the orphanage. He had been placed in our room for about a week. We were all told that Joseph, my previous roommate, had become sick and consequently moved to the orphanage’s infirmary. We never saw him again.
It was like that at Our Lady the Holy Mother Mary. Children came and went, and as it happened very frequently, so we did not give it much thought. Maybe they found them a real home with a loving family? Maybe they were sold to a workhouse in the city? Maybe they just died and were taken down to the big furnace? I had seen that once. I was not supposed to, but I knew that that is what they did with those who did not survive the harsh conditions. The big furnace burnt them to dust. I did not want to end up there.
The next evening, just before lights out, I noticed Toby give me a strange look. Toby and I had not really had much to do with each other until then. In fact, we had hardly exchanged any words until that night.
My bed was opposite Toby’s on the lower level of the bunks. Willy and Jack slept on the upper bunk.
That evening I caught him staring at me whilst we were changing into our nightshirts. For a few seconds, whilst we were both in a state of nakedness donning our nightshirts, I could see his erection and my cock stiffened looking at his nakedness too. I immediately had thoughts of fucking the tree root and tasting Pan’s anus in my dream of the previous night. Maybe it was not deliberate; maybe it was as if he wanted me to see his state of excitement. We looked at each other for a few moments, and then both covered ourselves quickly without saying a word. In the next instant, the lights were out and we were plunged into the usual darkness.
I lay on my small bunk above the sheets. My heart raced inside my chest. Only when I could hear the audible proof that my other roommates were already fast asleep, could I begin to relax and enjoy myself. I lifted my nightshirt over my waist, and my fingers eagerly gripped my hard little penis as I allowed my fantasy world to begin. I kept thinking about Toby’s stiff penis. I could almost taste it filling my eager mouth. I began to rub myself in the sanctuary of the night shadows.
Falling deeply into my masturbation trance, as I imagined him dancing naked in front of me, masturbating himself, when I caught the sound of Toby’s actual breathing change. My heart skipped a beat, as I felt exposed – as I had been caught in the act. Then I realized that I was hearing him breathing heavily from excitement. It was discrete but noticeable. He must have been masturbating in the darkness in his bunk right next to me.
My hand moved the flesh of my little penis in timing with his breathing. I wasn’t sure if he had noticed my noises or was oblivious to his own world. All I knew was, that it was incredibly exciting. My own breathing had become louder and more daring. Which in turn seemed to echo from Toby’s side of the darkened room. The sound of his breathing had become louder and shorter as his excitement had increased.
I was sure he knew what we were both doing, and this in itself drove me closer to the brink of orgasm. It was becoming increasingly difficult to disguise my excitement as the sounds returned in the darkness, I could only guess that Toby must have been very close to ejaculation. It was also as if we didn’t care, or that we wanted each other to know what was about to happen as we panted and moaned without restraint.
As quickly as it became, it was over. My juice spurted across my stomach and there was complete silence in the room. I pulled my nightshirt down and turned to face the wall, enjoying the afterglow, until I drifted into unconsciousness.
The next morning we awake, and seemed to avoid any direct eye contact. Soon the day was started and the nocturnal activities recessed until we returned to the dorms. Maybe I had imagined the whole thing? Many explanations crossed my mind until we began to get changed again. It was almost like déjà vu, as Toby undressed in front of me. I wanted him to look at me, as I wanted to look at his naked and excited body. As he stripped, his cock was stiff and he made no attempt to hide it from my view – I reciprocated in a frozen moment before quickly covering up out of view of the other dorm boys.
In the immediate darkness that followed, I feel could hear Toby whispering something, and then I felt his body weight on the edge of my bunk.
“I’m scared Michel – of the dark,” he tentatively offered.
I knew it was an excuse, but was excited to see what was on his mind, and more importantly, what was beneath his nightshirt.
“Can I lay next to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
I shifted across against the wall on the narrow bunk to make him some space and we laid next to each other face to face. Our bare legs rubbed against each other for the first time, sending tiny electric shocks of excitement through my body.
“Sometimes I have bad dreams of monsters and evil stuff” he continued in a low voice, not to wake the others.
“I use to have them too, almost every night, but now I don’t get them anymore,” I answered.
I pushed my thigh between his and felt his erect penis move beneath his long nightshirt. I liked the unusual aroma of his body and the ticklish warmth that radiated from our touching legs in the dark.
“How come you do get scared?” asked Toby.
I could feel his breathing get sharper and more excited. My hand pulled his body closer to mine at the waist.
“God came to me in my dream and told me not to be afraid. He showed me how to pray to him using my penis and taught me to masturbate and imagine many nasty things,” I replied as I rubbed my erection against his through our thin nightshirts, “He showed me lots of sexual things to try.”
“That’s why at night, I have been listening to you panting in your bunk. Father Ryan says it’s sinful. But I’ve been sinning too, like Father Ryan said we shouldn’t.”
I felt his hand move both our nightshirts up above our waistlines so that our naked groins were now touching each other directly. We both began to rub our stiff cocks hungrily against each other, cock to cock.
“Do you rub your penis in your hand until white stuff comes out Michel?”
“Yes, Toby,” I panted into his ear, happy to share my sinfulness.
“Me too. After one of the bible classes that Father Ryan gave about carnal knowledge, he said that it is shameful to touch yourself and that it was the will of Satan that was tempting us with sinful sexual thoughts. After that, I started to pray to Satan to make me spurt harder. Father Ryan said it was evil, but it really turns me on. I saw him looking at me in the shower room last week and it made me very erect. Thought at first that I had done something wrong and he was going to beat me, but he kept looking at me without saying a word, it was scary, but I think he was having carnal thoughts too.”
My fist closed around his cock and I began to rub it.
“Arrghhh — rub me faster Michel, it feels so hot to do sinful things together. Fuck I love Satan!”
His finger pushed against my rectum, edging a slender digit beyond the rim of my filthy anus reminding me of my experience with the tree root – he casually finger fucked me for a minute and then pushed his dirty finger into my mouth.
“Taste your nasty hole — doesn’t sin feels fucking great?”
We quickly removed our nightshirts and I put my mouth over him, sucking at his hot wet lips. Our slimy tongues slipped back and forth exploring each other’s mouths.
“I prayed to Satan to let me suck your cock. He brought us together. I want to taste your white stuff, make your cock spurt in my mouth,” Toby said as he slid his body down mine.
Toby closed his hot little mouth around the tip of my cock and I could feel his lips create a delightful suction, while his tongue swirled as it danced across my delicate cock flesh, in a way that drove me absolutely crazy.
Exhausted after cumming, my mind slipped into a dream state … as my mind fogged over, Pan welcomed me back.
“So you have learned another name of mine Michel, yes, I am also known and worshiped as Satan. I would like it if you call me Satan from now on. I like that name. Now say it out loud while you cum, so that I know that you are dedicated to your most perverse fantasies to honor me.”
Satan’s cock was drooling with salty pre-cum and his lips were wet with brownish residue from sucking a dirty anus. I knelt between his hairy thighs and took his enormous organ in my tiny hands in homage. He moaned lewdly as I drew his thick foreskin back and forth, lapping up the slime from his bulbous cock head.
Satan pulled me to my feet and I could see that we were not alone. The tribe had gathered and I could once again feel the heat from the furiously burning bonfire.
“Tonight you will learn about the ancient ways. Something that has been passed down for centuries — all my rituals are centered around it — it is how my high priests offer sacrifice to me”
In my dream, I was no longer in the orchard of innocence, but looking around I found myself in a stone-walled shine illuminated by the brightly burning flames of a central fire well, the walls were decorated in cloth hangings, highly pornographic images depicting all boy perverse orgies dedicated to Satan my new god.
Satan pointed to a naked boy tied between two upright poles shaped like erect cocks. His flaccid penis and tear-stained face were full of confusion, panic, and fear. He began to frantically thrash around – twisting and turning against the restraints until finally his energy was all expended and his body just hung limply.
“It is time for you to learn that those among us that are not with Satan are yours to use in sacrifice – they are nothing more than toys for which our perverse games have endless usage – tonight young one, you will fuck them hard, fuck them until they scream and each them for our mutual pleasure — watch and learn as your evil brethren offer me human sacrifice.”
Behind them loomed a giant stone effigy of a horned goat-headed figure with folded wings … the Baphomet. Upon its brow was an inverted five-pointed star … I stared at the Baphomet’s enormous erect penis and pert breasts. Satan stood behind me, drew me close, and gripped my penis.
“They call me the unholy Baphomet or the Satanic Black Goat of Mendes. It celebrates me as the lust for life, carnal indulgence, knowledge incarnate, and raw power. Notice the flame that burned brightly upon my crown that represents the erect phallus aflame with perverse lust.”
I could feel the top veined topside of his cock as it poked between my legs. I loved the feeling of its slimy length rubbing directly against my anal valley. I wanted it inside me more than anything else I could remember. I wanted to impale myself on its obscene length and feel his cock thrust deep into my shitty bowels.
“I have many forms, see my androgynous body with both breasts and erect cock, and the twin serpents of the enlightenment of carnal knowledge.”
I moaned loudly and lewdly as I began to thrust back and forth edging his cock against my oily rectum … frotting against it, urging Satan to fuck my guts.
“Watch Michel … soon you will join your brothers in offering me human sacrifice.”
Finally, his delicious fat cock began to enter me, my rectum stretching to its limits to accommodate its impossible girth, as I masturbated furiously.
The brethren all chanted to Satan as I watched each of the boys take turns sodomizing their unfortunate victim, hanging between the two cock poles. Re-energized to try to escape his fate, he bucked and struggled against the steadfast restraints, firstly crying and pleading and eventually screaming as they sodomized him over and over, harder and harder. As one boy fucked his behinds, the others urinated over him – trying to piss into his screaming mouth. They laughed excitedly as they eagerly waited their turn to fill his unworthy guts with red-hot boy semen.
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THE FOOL – CHAPTER 3 – THE OFFERING (2,292 WORDS)
“Anyone who is familiar with Satanism and the occult knows that Pan is the pagan god of sexual fertility, lust, homosexuality, rape, and pedophilia. Many statues of Pan display him with an erection. Wiccans adore Pan more than all the other false gods that they worship.” — Pan’s Labyrinth, Satan, and Pedophilia! By David J. Stewart
It was Sunday and I was awakened by the sound of the orphanage rooster, as it stirred in the first light of the day. The only time taken out of our long working days was on Sunday morning when Father Ryan would take a bible class after our weekly shower and church service. For those who sang in the choir, they would use the rest of the day to practice, but for the rest of us, the day continued with a usually painful and abusive session of religious doctrine. The age-old story of good triumphing over evil; punishment for so-called wicked ones; and God’s own wrath upon those who dared not follow his strict path. It was a time of Proselytizing.
It was also the only time we dressed in our church vestments instead of our usual shabby work clothing. The classroom was always overcrowded, with children sitting closely together in long pews as they tried to look interested and attentive. Father Ryan looked up from his heavy bible sternly across the sea of faces in the classroom. He tapped the thin strap that he used for corporal punishment, impatiently across his desk.
“Michel and Toby, you are both to remain behind after bible class.”
We looked at each other uncomfortably. Punishment was usually very public, swift, and without any opportunity for protest. Why would he draw out the punishment? Why delay the inevitable?
“Class dismissed. All those who have work to be done, get changed from your church vestments. Do it quietly and quickly,” he barked.
As the room promptly emptied of children eager to escape his unwanted attention, he told us to both follow him to the clergy private library that was located beneath the old Abbey building on the north side of the orphanage compound. This was strictly out-of-bounds for any kids and we both feared the worst.
Sister Madeline met Father Ryan in the stairwell on the way downstairs to the library and they stopped briefly, whispering in a clandestine way to each other outside the doorway. Father Ryan gestured to us to enter in front of them. Seeing Sister Madeline confirmed the seriousness of the matter. Had they known about our nocturnal activities? Maybe one of the other dorm boys had said something? We meekly followed his instruction without another word.
The private library was a windowless room that smelt of dusty volumes in the basement levels of the old Abbey. Even during the daytime, these corridors and rooms were eerie to be in, and inside the library itself, the only light came from a few scattered oil lamps. The walls were lined with dark leather-bound books of different shapes and sizes. Sister Madeline entered the room and Father Ryan closed the heavy wood door behind them.
“Have they been cleansed?” asked the Sister.
“Yes Mistress,” answered Father Ryan.
“Excellent. We will not be disturbed until it is done.”
I thought it strange that he referred to her as ‘Mistress’ and not Sister, as we were used to, but it was a passing thought, as my mind was gripped with fear — more than curiosity. It all sounded like riddles to our unsuspecting ears.
“Come boys, stand next to us. Toby stand with Father Ryan; Michel stand here next to me.”
She gestured for us to move opposite one another in a suspiciously casual manner. Sister Madeline was one of the most feared nuns in the orphanage. She was someone that you did not want to cross. Disobeying her was simply out of the question. I quickly glanced at her wimple-covered face – her striking pupils were almost black-in-black. Her youthful face was stern but nevertheless very pretty. It was a strange combination of both beauty and beast, all in one person.
There were two old leather couches facing each other that had seen better days, arranged on an ornately patterned rug. We both stood opposite each other, quietly in our church vestments, Toby fidgeted with his back to Father Ryan and I stood uncomfortably close to Sister Madeline, as she sat on the couch behind me, her legs extending from her gown either side of me. I desperately wanted to run away, but fear had me paralyzed. I knew that there was no escape. Toby and I glanced a look at each other, afraid of what would happen next. What strange exotic punishment awaited us? We would not have to wait long.
I could feel Sister Madeline’s breath upon the back of my neck, as the hairs stood to attention in anticipation of pain. She talked softly to the side of my face, but directed her comments to both Toby and me.
“This orphanage prides itself on the strictest of discipline and obedience. Every child must always do as they are told.”
We nodded enthusiastically.
“Good I am glad you understand your place. In our work, we find it necessary to enlist the help of some special children to assist the clergy of the orphanage to get things done and to do their bidding, as and when required. These special children can expect to live a different life in the orphanage — serving its ordained clergy in a different way. It is a life that has some extraordinary benefits … and extraordinary commitments.”
Surprised, I found her warm hand stroking my hair from behind my head. She was almost purring as she spoke to the two of us, like a cat about to consume her milk. Ironically this was not so far from the truth.
“Do you follow me?”
Toby and I were not sure what to say or do.
“Answer me, boy …”
“Yes, Sister,” I answered shyly.
I did not ever dare to look her directly into her dark and sinister eyes, though I could feel her piercing stare in the back of my head. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper and once again I could feel the heat and moisture of her breath over my left ear and neck.
“God’s special children do not talk about what happens in the clergy library and the private chapel to anyone. If you do, I will see to it that you never speak to anyone again. Do you understand me?”
Her mouth was so close to my ear that I could just about feel the softness of her lips brushing against my skin. My stomach was turning butterflies.
“Father Ryan thinks that you are both special? Is Father Ryan right? Are you truly two of God’s special children? God needs you to perform special rituals to please his most holy of holy clergy … are you ready to do special things for Almighty God?”
My throat was very dry and I felt physically sick. My legs were almost jelly, but we both managed to nod without speaking further. Sister Madeline held up in front of my face, two tiny penis-shaped vials and poured each into a cup of holy water.
“Drink one of these each of you. Make sure you swallow it all. All of it — don’t spill a drop.”
We did exactly as we were told and swallowed the slightly salty solution.
“Loosen your vestments for God.”
We did what we were told.
“That’s it, boys, why don’t you take them off — completely.”
We both hesitantly undressed, not wanting to deviate from her instruction but at the same time feeling a deep shame of being so exposed in front of the attractive Sister. She watched us both with the eyes of an unpredictable bird of prey.
“Father Ryan, why don’t you take one of the silver chalices and pass me the other? Being special means that you will do whatever I want, whenever I need it, without question. Do you understand?”
We both nodded in acceptance of her words but without any real understanding of the gravity of her statements. We simply watched as the two of them cleanse their hands in holy water.
Suddenly the sensations of the potion began to take effect on both of them. Neither knew what an aphrodisiac was, but what was at first the feeling of lightheadedness, began to morph into a powerful warmth been my legs and instantaneous and unexpected sexual arousal … despite where I was and whom I was with. I felt powerless to stop the overwhelming sensual effulgence … like a thousand fire-crackers exploding around me.
As Father Ryan and Sister Madeline spoke, their voices seemed to reverberate in my mind – like many overlapping whispers upon whispers that echoed in eerie and unexpected seductiveness. Sister Madeline spoke in a sultry tone.
“H-a-r-d-e-r — f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n. H-a-r-d-e-r — f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n. H-a-r-d-e-r — f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n.”
My penis first twitched and then started to fill with blood and in no time had become incredibly hard and desperate to be touched. It was like an incredible itch, that you must scratch. My thoughts become focused on these impulsive hypnotic sexual feelings as her words made my nipples hard and her tongue snaked in and out of my ear.
“L-i-c-k – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n — S-u-c-k – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n”
Touching me for the first time, she began stoking the flesh of my stiff little penis very gently at first, cupping my hairless balls as if they were to be milked of their content.
“M-a-s-t-u-r-b-a-t-e – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n – c-u-m – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n.”
Her agile adult fingers wrapped tightly around my eager organ that dripped copious pre-ejaculate in anticipation. The pleasure seemed to intensify every time she said Satan’s name. It was as if the drug-induced state was abridging our thoughts, as she stroked me faster and faster.
My head filled with her evil fantasies taking me deeper into her succubus world of depravity, further than anything I had experienced in my dreams of Pan – my head coursed with her deliberate corruption – a fire burned wildly in my impressionable mind, wicked images of perverse and incestuous children, all running rampant with the brutal anal rape of their unwilling victims, of extensive sexual torture culminating in a bloody human sacrifice and cannibalistic orgy to appease their evil sex gods. Sister Madeline grunted lewdly as she continued to milk me and tongue-fuck my ear hole.
“F-u-c-k – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n — f-u-c-k – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n — f-u-c-k – f-o-r – s-a-t-a-n.”
In front of me, I could see Father Ryan doing the same to Toby. Toby moaned uncontrollably under the uninhibited influence of the hypnotic drug and the onslaught of masturbatory pleasuring from the expert hands of the perverted Father Ryan.
“P-r-a-i-s-e – b-e – t-o — s-a-t-a-n, p-r-a-i-s-e – b-e – t-o — s-a-t-a-n, f-o-r – h-e – p-r-o-v-i-d-e-s – f-o-r – t-h-e – w-i-c-k-e-d – a-n-d – u-s-e-s – t-h-e – m-e-a-k.”
Oblivious to what was happening, I did not even notice when the Father and Sister remove their own garment – but now I could see Father Ryan naked in front of me, as he pushed his veined adult-sized penis between Toby’s slightly parted legs, the length of his cock extending in front of Toby, so that both of their cocks rubbed together – just watching them was making me even hornier. Father Ryan rocked back and forth, as he milked the both of them together in unison.
It was then that I first felt something else beginning to push between my legs. A hard, moist, throbbing cock that sled between my slightly parted thighs. My inner thighs, the base of my pre-teen balls, and my anus rubbed against the length of the hot member, as it pistoned back and forth along the same trajectory as my own little flesh. I then realized that Sister Madeline was like the Baphomet – a cock nun. I could feel her hard nipples against my bare back, as her grip around my small torso became more intense.
“Don’t be alarmed, my child,” she panted between strokes, “You have been chosen. Our semen will soon mix and we will be one with our lord, Satan.”
As she masturbated the both of us over the brim of the chalice, increasing the pace with every thrust of her hand, my cock began to dribble pre-cum with the increasing tempo of her blasphemous ritual.
“Ave Satanas. Corrupt this child so that we make use of him in your service. Ave Satanas. Corrupt this child so that we make use of him in your service.”
They both chanted in unison as they brought us both to orgasm and caught rope after rope our fresh boy semen as it mixed with their own into the shiny silverware.
“Argh!” I cried out at the top of my lungs as I felt my body convulse uncontrollably in orgasmic waves of pure pleasure.
My first orgasm was stronger than anything I had experienced on my own or even with Toby. It was too much for me to comprehend, as my mind was caught in a demonic whirlwind as I was overtaken in extreme delight, as I reached the crescendo of her induced pleasuring. My breathing had been reduced to simply panting for air from the sheer intensity of the satanic orgasm … I fell back against Sister Madeline’s lap … her phallic appendage pushed upwards against my oily rectum.
“They are ready,” said Father Ryan hoarsely.
Usually after ejaculation my baby cock would become soft and I felt a great sense of relief, but after taking the strange concoction, I was never soft nor relieved … my cock in fact felt harder and itchier than before. The euphoric feeling of post-orgasm was replaced with frustration and a greater need for release.
“Bring in the bate.”
My mind went blank and I passed out.
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THE FOOL – CHAPTER 4 – ALL HALLOW’S EVE (1,537 WORDS)
“Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the FLESH is weak.” Matthew chapter 14 verse 38
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It was dark and unpleasantly warm. I was not sure how long I had been unconscious, and as I started to reorient myself, I realized that did not recognized where I was. As I turned my head, I could just make out the shadowy shape of another slumped body, hanging in silence against the stonewall of a very narrow sub-terrain room.
Our bodies hung inches apart. The only available light silhouetted the edges around a heavy door that blocked the far end of the ‘broom closet-sized room. I tried to remember how we got here and the events that had led us to this moment as I drifted in and out of consciousness. It all seemed rather blurred and dream-like.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound seemed to echo in my mind, like an annoying metronome, beating a slow pulse every few seconds. I remembered being pulled aside in religious instruction by Father Ryan – and being sent to the private library under the old abbey with Sister Madeline. Then, it came back to me in a white bright light – like a shock wave as the evil dream span from my subconscious and crashed against my waking thoughts and immediately hardened my boy cock.
Delicious spasms of pleasure coursed through my immature body with avid images from Sister Madeline’s darkest fantasies. Maybe it was the residue of the aphrodisiac or just a heightened awareness of a primal lusting that seemed to spike me like a hypodermic injection of unnatural sexual hunger. All I could think about was that I needed more sex.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
As I hang completely naked against the opposite wall, feeling hot and frustrated, my cock needing release again, anyway, anyhow – it did not seem to matter. I was not sure what the cock nun had done to me, but all I could think about was her perverse visions. As I tried to move, I found that my arms could not leave the side of the walls. I was restrained by the wrists and secured to the solid stonewall of the cell. I was able to push away from the wall as my leg pushed forward, but unable to take hold of my needy penis and masturbate. Oh, how I longed to masturbate.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I stretch out my legs and found they touched the bony flesh of my companion’s body – who groaned with being awakened by my touch.
“Who’s there?” I asked timidly.
“Joseph. Who are you?” he answered.
Recognizing his voice, as my old dorm mate,
I said eagerly, “Joseph, it’s Michel – I thought you had gone?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Where exactly did you think I had gone too?” asked Joseph.
“I don’t know, just gone?”
I realized that we had befallen the same fate. I wondered where Toby was.
As my eyes became used to the light, I could see that Joseph was a lot thinner than I remembered, his ribbed torso and scrawny limbs seemed to turn me on. They had shaven Joseph’s head and I could only guess that they probably had done the same to me too. His thin torso twisted against his bonded wrists and cock pointed upright. We both became acutely away from each other’s excited state. Without saying another word, we both began to grind our hips against each other – rubbing the fleshy length of our cocks against each other as our hips stretched forward to maintain the pleasurable friction.
“They use us you knew?” said Joseph after a rather long pause, “They’re not nuns or priests – they’re all sex demons.”
Just then a long dark shadow passed in front of the cell of our door and the ambient light flickered as they passed by. We stopped rubbing against each other for a second. Joseph lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I overheard that tonight is the end of October and they have some special ritual called ‘All Hallows Eve’. It sounded really important to them – something about making a special human sacrificial offering to God.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
My body remembered the endorphin rush of being masturbated by the cock nun and it dripped pre-cum over Joseph’s groin.
“They get the special children to do things to the other kids, while they watch and masturbate. And then they join in and make us do even nastier things to them too.”
Our cocks thrust up and down in obvious enjoyment of the tone of the conversation.
“What if we refuse?” I asked.
“That’s it – you don’t refuse. I’ve spent all my time thinking about doing these nasty sex things. I can’t wait to do them again. And by the state of your cock – I can see you feel exactly the same. They say we are Satan’s children and we must please our father.”
“Yes, Joseph – I want to please Satan.”
We moaned in desperation as our bodies strained to increase the pressure and friction as we both desperately to gain the sexual gratification we longed for, but just could not quite achieve in our constrained situation. Just at that moment, noises from beyond the doorway drew our silence. The sound of opening doors and movement – it was time. I felt it deep inside my excited appendage.
Two dark-masked priests unchained us and pulled our limp bodies to our feet. Half dragging our naked bodies, they pulled us into the narrow corridor outside the small cell. Looking down the dark corridor there must have been fifty or more doors, like the one we were kept behind.
“Be silent and come with us.”
They were the only words spoken as he quickly followed their escort. I looked nervously at Joseph who quickly whispered.
“Just do as they say.”
In the anti-chamber, we were joined by about three other boys, all about the same age – all of us naked with our heads shaven. It felt like a moment from my dream of Pan – these were the boys from Pan’s tribe. I know my place and was excited about what would happen next. Each of the five masked priests washed a boy down with lukewarm water and dried us with soft cloths. They each placed a thick leather collar around our necks and clothed us in a simple black vestment, that was nothing more than two vertical pieces of cloth fastened at the shoulder and hung front and back to just below our groin level, but open from both sides.
They gave each of us a large container of water and forced us to consume the complete contents of the vessel. Again I looked at Joseph, who was following commands without resistance.
“The Mistress will call upon you shortly, devil children. You are the chosen acolytes of Satan and you will do her bidding. Be silent and still until the ritual time,” said one of the masked priests.
At the sound of a distant gong, the five masked priests escorted us forward into the dimly lit temple, drawn in procession toward the central area. The temple looked eerily familiar – resembling the images from my awakening dream partly brought on by the power of a hallucinogenic aphrodisiac and partly embedded in my mind by the Mistress Cock Nun.
The restless congregation, of masked priests and hooded nuns, surrounded us on all sides of the pentagon-shaped temple. One of the sides was taken up with a low altar and raised large wooden throne, behind which loomed an ominous evil idol adorned with an enormous upright phallus. In the center was an oversized platform that resembled a pentagon-shaped bed, large enough for half a dozen adults.
The nuns and priests were not dressed in their usual drab grey habits – the nuns all wore bright red hooded silk tunics over black wimples, while the priests wore satin black habits tied at the waist with bright red sashes. The front of their habits and tunics were marked with an inverted cross, as the insignia of their devotion to a very different god – this marked a very special occasion in the demonic calendar – a night of sexual worship in homage to their evil god.
Each of the five of stood with a masked priest at the five points of the satanic pentagon. I knew this as a place of dark deeds. Incandescent oil lamps burned furiously with the human fat of sacrificed babies, against the dark backdrop and pierced into the dark alcoves that made up the temple walls, each was filled with ornately carved and highly pornographic statues of twisted demons and young boys, joined in unbridled lust, blasphemous sin, and cannibalistic ritual.
The gong sounded a second time, and I could see Sister Madeline and two of the other most senior nuns enter. Each of the two senior nuns carried a large silver challis, which they placed upon the low altar and took their place, with Sister Madeline seated upon the heavy throne and each of her entourage standing on her flanks. The Cock Nun stood – extending her hands upwards and outwards.
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THE END?
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