DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The story’s content 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 as 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 they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. All Rights Reserved © 2025 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Religious Themes, Supernatural, LGBT themes, WS, Scat, Blasphemy, Sacrilege, Sodomy, Young, Devil Worship, NC, Abuse, Rape, and Snuff
CREATED: 01.01.2025
Lady Phallus II
SYNOPSIS OF LADY PHALLUS II
It’s several years later, in Georgian England. Our protagonist is no longer a young naive man but his allegiance to the witch, we know as Lady Phallus, has deepened. It seems that sex, life, and even death are intertwined in this tale of debauchery and sexual exploitation. In discovering himself, he finds that he’s only scraped the surface, in terms of understanding the true evil that has terrorized the Northern moors of Wales for decades … if not centuries … that Lady Phallus is certainly part of something demonically wicked … despite his misgivings, it is a fact that only excites him more.
CHARACTERS OF LADY PHALLUS II (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)
- Halt St. Peter — Protagonist and real estate agent
- Ernst Peppercorn — Lawyer to Lady Phallus
- Manu — Young boy servant to Lady Phallus
- Lady Phallus — Wealthy “woman” and an evil hermaphroditic witch
- Sophie Winchester — Halt’s fiancé
- Sisters Winfred, Sarah, and Mary — Sisters from the Order of Scytel that run an orphanage
- Lady Priapus — Another wealthy widow?
LADY PHALLUS II — CHAPTER FOUR (2,088 WORDS)
My name is Halt St. Peter. I began my career in property development with a highly respected firm based in Southwark, London. It was through an association with a wealthy widow and her lawyer that I got my promotion, to firstly, the youngest ever associate in the firm, and subsequently found myself promoted to a junior partner — all due to the commercial success of the business arrangements between the firm and this client.
Of course, I would liked to have believed that it was all due to my endeavors, but somehow, I was not that naive anymore. It had been an “exchange”. The widow’s ageing lawyer, Mr Ernest Peppercorn, had served his client for decades. He worked exclusively for her. I learned that he had no need for other business. And likewise, it seemed that all of my business dealings were consumed with the acquisition and management of this client’s estate in the vicinity of the Old Bailey, in London.
But that’s not even half the story. When I say “exchange” — I mean I made a choice — between love and lust. I had been engaged to marry a beautiful and sensitive young girl, Sophie Winchester. However, as the story goes, she was taken by wolves whilst foolhardily walking alone on the Celtic moors. This, of course, wasn’t exactly the truth. She had secretly become the bride too, my devil worshiping, client — whose unnatural proclivities had wrapped themselves around the both of us.
It seemed that now, my attention was divided between affairs of business in London and affairs of sexual depravity in Northern Wales. You see, the client, Lady Phallus, was much more than just a wealthy widow. She was a witch that practiced the darkest of Celtic magick. She was a sexual pervert, whose lust knew no limits. She was a hermaphrodite with both sets of sexual organs. And she was a sexual demon that demanded to be worshiped by her followers … which included me.
My thoughts on this sinister relationship echoed in something I had read once. It said that “Ancient religious and historical notions of abjection” with a specific emphasis on religious, “abominations — of sexual immorality and perversion; corporeal alteration, decay, and death; human sacrifice; murder; the corpse; bodily wastes; the feminine body and incest.”
For me, it was more than a list — it was a series of experiences that had led me down a very dark and twisted path.
“Demarcate the bonds that hold together that system of relations we call culture, to call horrid attention to the borders that cannot–must not–be crossed …” but they had been crossed … “These strict borders are primarily in place to control the traffic in women and to maintain the ties between heterosexual men that keep a patriarchal society together … Monstrosity and sexuality go hand in hand, as many of the rejected societal practices (incest, sexual perversion, homosexuality) reflect the fear of deviant sexuality.”
Did I have any love for her? Or did I love all the evil, deviant sex? Can one be in love with a demon? Was she even capable of any form of love? I doubted it. Most who crossed her path ended up in unmarked graves … whatever was left of them.
xxxxx
It was time for my visitation to the castle home of Lady Phallus in the Wilds of Celtic Wales.
I looked forward to it. It was the place where I was free to indulge in whatever pleased me, no matter how extreme my sexual urges had become — which, under Lady Phallus’ stewardship — was usually totally debauched and depraved … to say the least. Nature or nurture? Had it always been inside of me to be like this, to objectify others, use and abuse them, without any thought to the consequences? Or had I become infected by her … her evil seed … like a virus taking over my thoughts and actions? I could not comprehend.
It had been several months of solo masturbation, being my only release. I was eager to replenish my slavish devotion to her lewd carnality. My mind, body, and soul craved her. However, on this occasion, Lady Phallus had asked me to make a short detour. Another distraction or an opportunity? Who was I to try to contemplate the will of my Witch Goddess, Lady Phallus?
She needed me to pay a visit to a local orphanage, that was some miles away from her castle home. She said something, in her brief letter to me, that, I was to acquire a dozen new page boys, to assist and participate in something important to her — that there was an up-and-coming “gathering” to be celebrated — and that it would be something that she’d looked forward to for a great deal of time. I had no idea of what that would mean but I was only too pleased to be of assistance to her.
She’d mentioned that the nuns, that ran the old orphanage, were sympathetic to her needs — meaning that, the Sisters of the Order of Scytel, had no objection to her taking young boys from their orphanage, whenever it pleased her, without question — despite the fact, that they were never seen again.
The orphans were mostly young boys of improvised families unable to feed and support their offspring. And the orphanage paid them a princely sum of two pounds for a child. A handsome fee that seemed to inspire further procreation for sales, in this rather, bizarre trade. I guessed that opportunities in the Northern areas of Wales were limited. Maybe the parents believed that these children were placed in better homes — living the life that they could never afford to provide — this, of course, was the furthest from the truth.
I was soon to discover that these nuns, themselves, were not without their deviant tendencies. And upon arriving at the orphanage, I quickly realized that they too, willingly served the sexual depravity of Lady Phallus. I was greeted most felicitously by three such nuns, Sisters Winfred, Sarah, and Mary — all in their early thirties — they seemed less female than I had expected. They were not female at all, but effeminate men, only dressed outwardly as nuns in long dark habits and wimples. My cock quickly hardened at the thought of them sexually abusing the young orphans … maybe offering me an opportunity to sample their sexual merchandise.
“Your Witch Mistress is most generous to our orphanage. She is our sole benefactor and we are all at her disposal … should there be anything that she needs … anything …” gushed the limp-wristed and effeminate, Sister Winfred.
”The gathering approaches,” said Sister Sarah, “The Witch Goddess will require our assistance, I am sure.”
There it was again. The gathering. What did that mean? A gathering of what or who?
The three nuns led me to their “secret place” — that was out-of-bounds to everybody — intended solely for their worship of the Witch Goddess. It was in the bowels of the old orphanage. A terrible place that displayed the true nature of their deviancies. The walls were covered with depictions of bizarre sex rituals between the transvestite clergy and very young boys. Sodomy was only the beginning — forced masturbation, full-on orgies, bestiality, rape, and even young boys being offered as sacrifices … It seemed their tastes were not so dissimilar to Lady Phallus, and now, mine own.
Of course, my cock was turgid with excitement — as I looked upon the naked boys that they had presented to me for my approval. There were three of them. All of them were young, effeminate, and very sexy. Sister Sarah whispered something to the naked young boys and they began to dance provocatively for me (as if auditioning for some bizarre sex cult) … rubbing their nipples, pouting their lips, thrusting their narrow hips provocatively. Their limp little cocks soon became fully erect and without stopping their frolic, they all began to masturbate for my unsavoury entertainment.
“Do they meet with your approval?” asked Sister Mary, “Upon your onward travel, you will be provided with a dozen of such boys … this is what the Witch Goddess had instructed for her gathering.”
“Do they all drink piss?” I asked.
”But of course,” replied Sister Mary, “Urine is Satan’s sacrament. All the boys in the orphanage are taught to honor the dark god. And of course, we, the nuns of the Order of Scytel are all loyal worshipers of Satan’s cock.”
”Do they submit to sodomy?” I asked.
“Here, the strong prey on the weak,” added Sister Winfred, “We encourage all forms of sexual perversion, abuse, and even rape among the young boys of Scytel … homosexuality … cross-dressing … sexual perversion … help us identify those that are to be saved, and those that are to be culled … it has been the way here for centuries.”
”Do they honor the dark gods?” I asked.
“There is only one religion here,” answered Sister Mary, “The god of the flesh. The adversary. The phallic god.”
The nuns seemed appeased by my questioning as if it would have been expected.
There was an enormous oil painting that hung on the adjacent wall. I had noticed it when I first arrived, but I had been distracted by the display of young boy flesh. The bizarre painting depicted the Witch Goddess herself, naked, and fully erect, her cock possibly exaggerated, as it reached upwards over the pointed nipples of her flat chest. The likeness was uncanny. Her fire-red hair looked so bright. Her expression was one of twisted pleasure. Around the Witch Goddess, the painterly shapes of naked children engaged in highly sexual behavior, seemed to heighten the painting’s wantonness … an orgy of young flesh depicted most exquisitely.
“Ah, I see you admire our old painting,” said Sister Sarah, “Beautiful, isn’t it? Inspiring! Does it make your cock hard just looking at it?” I nodded, “It has been placed in our secret abode, as a reminder of our Order’s alliance with the Witch Goddess, and the true purpose we serve here at the orphanage …”
There was a faded date scratched in the corner of the painting. At first, I thought it must be an error, as it would have meant that the artist created this work of intricate art, some fifty or so years prior. This didn’t seem to make sense at all, as the likeness to my Witch Goddess was almost identical to how she appeared today — as if she hadn’t aged a day for fifty years. That wasn’t possible, I thought. I was about to ask the nuns about this when Sister Sarah distracted my attention.
“Maybe, we can offer you something for your satanic thirst?” suggested Sister Winfred.
My satanic thirst? As I turned, I realised that each of the three nuns had one of the young naked boys. They gripped their young, boy-cocks, masturbating them, over a single silver chalice that appeared to be filled with salty urine. Each of the boys shot his creamy load into the piss cup, ropes of semen hung suspended in the dark yellow urine, which was now an unholy mixture of boy piss and boy-cum.
Sister Winfred held out the chalice with great reverence. The other two transvestite nuns had pulled their boys to their knees before them, sticking their stiff cocks in the boys’ eager mouths … the third knelt before me and pulled my pants down around my knees. My cock was hard as steel, and the young boy’s hot, wet mouth quickly engulfed me, sucking and tonguing my cock-head as I took the chalice from Sister Winfred.
”Blessed are those that chose cock!” chanted Sister Winfred.
I drank deeply from the filthy concoction. The briny urine tasted heady and strong, as the slimy lumps of boy-cum, slid down the back of my throat. I felt the young boy’s fingers penetrating my anus, finger-fucking me, as I began to face-fuck him hard and fast.
Yes! My satanic thirst now quenched, I needed to cum … to cum hard … in this young boy’s expert mouth.
xxxxx
With our business concluded, and the thought that I had done everything that Lady Phallus required (maybe a little more), I said thanks to the transvestite nuns and loaded the dozen boys into the coach. It was a bit of a squeeze, so I stayed up top, with the coach driver. The smell of so much young-boy-cock would have driven me crazy. Our trip back was uneventful. And I was happy to unload my cargo of young flesh and report back to my Witch Goddess — who awaited my arrival.
xxxxx
LADY PHALLUS II — CHAPTER FIVE (2,669 WORDS)
I had returned to the castle home of my Witch Goddess with the dozen new page boys. Life there seemed to continue with endless perverted activities. I was, of course, excited and eager to participate, but also tired from the trip. Lady Phallus had suggested I rest and join her for a nightcap later in the evening. She mentioned that there was much to do. Much to be prepared for. I guessed it might be all connected to the “gathering” that the nuns had mentioned.
The nights had gotten even darker early but with the full moon rising, the dark energy seemed to spark against the stormy weather. With the curtains drawn back, the moonlight spilled onto be bed chamber. I felt restless. The heat of the fireplace upon my nudity was a welcome sensation, as I stroked myself in anticipation of the night’s lewd entertainment, whatever that would be. Maybe some dark imitation with her new boys?
Lady Phallus had never explained Sophie’s disappearance. It had been something that had bothered me, as I felt somewhat responsible, for bringing her to Lady Phallus, in the first place. One could say that I hadn’t been in my right mind, that I had been brainwashed into doing her evil bidding, but neither was true — I had wilfully done the deeds and been excited by the twisted consequences.
But secretly going through Sophie’s private things, I found her diary. Something prickly told me to let sleeping dogs lie, but I could not help myself, and soon I found I was engrossed in the details of how we first met, how our courtship had come about … and of course … the time leading up to and even beyond her so-called marriage to the hermaphrodite witch. Her hand was steady and her cursive writing flowed out upon the diary pages … as if in the form of a strangely dark poem …
“I wasn’t sure about traveling to the Northern Wilds of Celtic Wales, with my fiancée, but I put my trust in God Almighty. I had prayed for a short and joyous trip with a speedy return to our beloved London so that we could be wed. I longed to be Mrs St Peter. I tried to think of this as an adventure together, that with God’s good grace, we’d discover new things to love about one another.
“However, the trip itself, was more tedious than I had imagined, as the road was rough, and the coach uncomfortable. The saving grace was the opportunity to spend time with my beloved Halt. Dare I say that we kissed, cuddled, and flirted together? My heart felt light and happy.
“Our first night was spent in a local inn. The horses were rested and fed and our accommodation was rather meagre. I had planned to take the opportunity to be more outgoing, as I thought it was my conservative nature that had caused the delay (and maybe second thoughts in the mind of my handsome fiancée). I hoped that he would see my softer, feminine, and more alluring side. I wanted to be everything to him. I was truly nervous about being more outgoing. I mean, I had never seen a man naked before. Our family were very conservative, and nudity wasn’t something that was seen or even talked about.
“But there I was with Halt. He looked at me with surprised eyes. Did he find me attractive? Was my body alluring to him? I had heard that that act of sexual intercourse was a very painful affair. God intended it as a means to bear children. It was only shared between a man and a woman on their wedding night. My mind was all over the place — and the Halt offered me a relaxing tonic. He said it was something to take the edge off. I drink it down in one gulp. The after-taste was rather strange but, all of a sudden, I felt so mellow … so demure … so sleepy. My mind slipped out of consciousness as I began to daydream. It was a warm and welcoming feeling, like lying down on soft pillows. I no longer felt any anxiety. I had no concerns. I had no fear.
“A daydream began. Or so I thought. I had been asking Halt about the widow’s castle … the enchanting place to which we were going. He’d said it was drab and old, but in my daydream, I found myself in a place of absolute splendour. It was what I had imagined from stories that I had read as a child. Though I had never met her before, in my lucid dream, I saw her. Lady Phallus was tall, exquisite, and pulchritudinous. I had never met a more divine being, and in my dreamlike state, I found myself naked before her — naked and very aroused — and desirous of her touch. I had never thought about the attractiveness of another woman before. I mean, it would be sinful and blasphemous to do so … but this … this was just a dream … and in this dream, I felt myself being swept forward towards her.
”Lady Phallus spoke to me. Not in words. It was as if we were magically telepathic. Her voice was in my head. In my body. In my very soul. Was she an angel? Her divine voice came to me without sound. It was more like music. She told me to be unafraid, that I had been chosen. Not for Halt. No. He was just a mere mortal. Was it a transient thing? Or had I been chosen to serve a Goddess? It sounded like a strange fairytale. She held me in her arms and kissed me. Her lips were on my mouth. I’d only kissed my fiancée before — and I felt inadequate at this endeavour, but Lady Phallus, spoke to me, telling me that I was a natural — that I was sexually gifted and that my virginity must belong to her.
”But how could a woman take my virginity? My little knowledge of anatomy told me that a man must insert his penis into my vagina, that I would feel pain, and would bleed. It was to be rather uncomfortable and unpleasant — I had thought — but important to the institution of marriage under God’s laws. But once again, Lady Phallus assured me that my “deflowering” would be a beautiful thing — that if I trusted her — I would experience only great pleasure … a great pleasure … an unstoppable pleasure … that would change everything for me.
”Of course, I was excited to learn more about everything that I had been sheltered or misinformed about. Lady Phallus seemed to know that I was ready. My dreamy mind was relaxed as I watched assiduously as Lady Phallus removed her delicate black-lace gown. Her breasts were small. As small as my own. Her nipples were hard, thick, and very long (like my thumb). She told me to take them into my mouth and suckle upon them. I did as she asked. The sensation was most astounding. She moaned in pleasure from my efforts and I found that my vagina felt hot and wet from my efforts to please Lady Phallus.
“I asked her about this, and she told me it was because I was her special lover. I was destined for greatness, I felt the juicing from my vagina running copiously down the inside of my legs. My vagina felt hot, itchy, and delirious of being touched. Lady Phallus began to suck my nipples, as I had sucked upon hers. The sensation only doubled the pleasure sensations between my shaking legs. My hips were bucking … crying out for penetration.”
I put Sophie’s diary down. I found myself feeling horny just reading about her dream. Of course, I remembered the night in question most clearly. I had given her a potion — the wicked sexsomnia potion — so that I was able to abuse her whilst she was comatose. It had been a defining moment. At the time, I had almost entirely lost any sexual attraction towards her, as all I could only think about was the perverted lust I shared with Lady Phallus and her young boy lover. But once asleep … it felt deviant to do things to Sophie against her will … to rape her body … piss in her mouth … and take her anal cherry. I continued to read and masturbate as I did so.
“Unlike other dreams that I have dreamt, almost completely forgotten upon awaking, this dream seemed to linger. As we took the stagecoach further, I recalled everything that happened, as if it had been real — as if I had been in the arms of Lady Phallus, herself. The thought both scared me and excited me. Dare I say, more than my thoughts of my dearest Halt — who I would never want to hurt — I told myself that this was unfair to him … and that it was nothing more than foolhardiness. A dream. Just a dream. But as we approached the second night of our journey to the Celtic Wilds, I found myself hoping that Halt would again, help me relax with his special potion. I thanked him … drank it … and found myself, once again, drifting on soft, white clouds …
”It was a euphoric feeling. Heavenly bliss. A God-inspired feeling. Was this what the afterlife was like? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. And when I found myself, once again, in the arms of Lady Phallus, she kissed me and spoke without speaking. My body tingled in anticipation of the way she made me feel in the dream that I had had the night before. Everything felt so real yet surreal. Her kiss seemed more urgent, more pressing … I felt her tongue inside my mouth … nobody had ever told me about such a kiss … I willingly opened my mouth … even sucking upon her tongue as I had sucked upon her hard, thick nipples. I was, again, naked and unashamedly aroused. Without even sucking her nipples, I found my vagina purring … my hips began to grind and thrust back and forth against her as she pressed her upper thighs between my open legs …
“That was when Lady Phallus got down on her knees, before me, and began kissing my stomach. She kissed my hips and thighs. Each kiss seemed to make my vagina pulse. I was gushing with sexual juices. It was burning hot. I wanted her to kiss my vagina. And just as that thought formed in my mind, I felt her lips press against my wet labia. The sensation made my head spin. I felt the itch get stronger. Kissing wasn’t enough. Her tongue began to penetrate me. I was not sure how, but it felt as if her tongue was snaking its way inside me, up me, filling me … I began to shake and my heart raced … contrary to the Godly description of pain and suffering … all I felt was a delicious pleasure coursed through my veins … like a white light … then suddenly, everything exploded …
“It was on the third night of my journey with Halt. We would arrive at Lady Phallus’s castle the very next day. We stopped at a small inn and ate a meal together. My mind was already thinking about Lady Phallus. It was hard to be in the moment with Halt. She, Lady Phallus, was all I could think about. I took the potion and found myself drifting. And then, there she was, before me. My Goddess. She asked me if I was ready. Ready for what? But I already knew. Was I ready to serve my Goddess? As she undressed, I first saw her genitals for the first time. A woman with both a vagina and a penis. She smiled at my look of inquisitiveness. She was no ordinary woman. Her body was divine … she said it was the best of both worlds …
”The Goddess lay on her back. Her fingers were inside her vagina. Her thoughts were my thoughts, the itch between my legs told me that I must take her penis inside of me … I wanted to use the words like whore … and screamed out to my Goddess to fuck me … as I crouched over her prone body, dancing over the tip of her magnificent cock, it’s tip began to enter me … again, I had no fear … only desire to please my Goddess … all thoughts of my fiancée were gone … only lust for this divine creature of both cock and cunt … I was her whore … her fuck-toy … I saw that my role was one of total obedience … I must give her my virginity …
I laid down Sophie’s diary. I had been stroking my cock to every word. I knew the power of this evil witch. I recalled her words … “You will make a beautiful bride!” she cackled, “My toilet bride. My piss bride. My shit-eating bride!” … “Come, Halt, join me,” she croaked, “Suck her breasts. Make her nipples hard for me. You are a servant of the Devil … and you have brought my bride to me … your blessings will be many. Lust and more lust. Endless lust. Perverted lust. Yes, you will want for nothing except to serve me, my cock, and my new bride.”
I flicked forward several pages in Sophie’s diary to a time when I was no longer in the witch’s castle. I had returned to London, a hero in the eyes of my firm. The youngest ever associate. The first of many accolades that I was to be bestowed. But what of my fiancée, Sophie? What had happened to her? The toilet bride. The piss bride. The shit-eating bride. What had happened after the ritual of blood … were we’d laid together, the three of us … what came after the young man we’d killed together and later eaten? Sophie’s inked words continued …
”It had been almost a month since Halt had left. My dream, it seemed, was not so dissimilar to my reality. At first, it had been almost uncanny that everything that I had felt in the dream had materialised. Of God, I had left behind, for she told me that the ways of the Abrahamic one were wrong … that the devil was the only true god to be worshiped. It ran against everything I had been taught in my younger years. She’d told me that I must unlearn these things. That there was a whole new world for me to embrace and experience. I was her chosen one. I had nothing to fear. There would be only pleasure … more pleasure … endless pleasure … all I had to do was to give myself to her … give myself to my true destiny …
“I did as she asked. And my Goddess had taken me in every way. The sexual lust had only got stronger. I no longer wanted food and drink … instead, I simply lived to serve her … I had become her toilet bride. I drank only her urine. I eat only her feces. She had penetrated me and fucked a fetus inside of me. I could feel it growing inside me. But it was not my fetus … it was hers … the gathering was coming … and it was her kind that needed to feast on it to rejuvenate themselves for they were immortals … she was the Witch Goddess of the Celtic Wilds … and it was my honor to serve her …”
The entries abruptly ended there. It occurred to me that my Sophie had made the ultimate sacrifice for our Witch Goddess. The Witch Goddess had gotten her reincarnation. I remember how youthful Lady Phallus had looked upon my return. Her skin anew. Her hair was more fiery red. Her cock was harder and her cunt was wetter. She’d looked about twenty years younger. As young as my Sophie had appeared. These evil things made perfect sense. The painting in the orphanage began to make sense … as she must be a sexual vampire, that lived beyond our lifetime … and we were just her sexual fodder … her food.
xxxxx
LADY PHALLUS II — CHAPTER SIX (2,272 WORDS)
“A magnificent masquerade ball,” announced Lady Phallus, “What do you think?”
I was immediately excited by such a bizarre suggestion. A masquerade ball in the Wilds of the Celtic North. What evil would be conjured at such an event? Did this have anything to do with the mysterious gathering?
“Here in the castle?” I asked.
”Yes,” replied Lady Phallus, “It has been such a long time. Decades maybe. We’d need to brush out the cobwebs. This is why I asked you to drop by the orphanage. What wonderful new blood you have brought me … but with the masquerade ball … it feels as if it’s the right time to invite some special guests for a celebration of renewal.”
The word “renewal” seemed to fit, as upon my return, I found Lady Phallus in excellent spirits. She seemed stronger, more vital, more potent than ever. Her sexual power seemed omnipresent in a way that inspired only the most perverse of activities in my mind. From only my most recent memory, her old, sallow skin seemed whiter, fresher, and firmer. Her cunt seemed wetter, yet more shapely. Her breasts are more pert. Her cum was more potent. Her urine was more like champagne. Her feces wqsamore delicious. Was that possible? Her cock seemed harder and more powerful, as I witnessed her savage penetration of one of the young new page boys.
“The nuns will also need to assist us in the preparations. They will know exactly what I want … we must send out the invitations to our masquerade guests immediately … it has been far too long … far too many decades between …”
I was expecting her to finish the sentence. But she turned and disappeared to her private chamber, leaving me in the library, to continue my speculation on the true nature of her masquerade… apt in a name … as I can only imagine her guests masquerading as what? Humans? Were they demons? Were they witches? A thousand evil and twisted thoughts filled my mind and my loins.
xxxxx
The night’s advanced. It seemed that the place was alive with activity. A hive buzzing with renewed energy. I found myself caught up in the whirlwind — purposeful in my endeavours — to assist in whatever I could as Lady Phallus orchestrated the preparation.
She was like the Queen Bee, Lady Phallus, had mustered her small army of transvestite nuns and young boys, to prepare the magnificence of her masquerade ball. There seemed to be strange dark magic about it all, as they all prepared the decorations, the entertainment, the setting, the feast and banquet, and the splendor … that completely transformed the drab, old castle, into a festive horror of debauched decor and sensual depravity. She seemed to spare no expense. It had to be perfect.
xxxxx
“This, my young Halt, is a very special invitation,” said Lady Phallus, “It must be delivered in person. I require you to take a horse, ride and deliver this, yourself.”
“To whom must I deliver it to?” I asked.
“Her name is Lady Priapus. She is one of my oldest acquaintances. She lives in her manor on the moors. Be careful of the wolves, they can be cunning. You will see to it that she receives the invitation and accepts it — that she gives her consent to be here — one full moon from today. Do you understand?”
“Yes. And when must I leave?”
‘Tonight, dear Halt. Immediately. Now hurry!”
xxxxx
It took several hours for me to ride to the home of Lady Priapus. It was getting close to sunset by the time I neared her manor. I knew now, that I wouldn’t be able to make it back before dark. The forest path could be treacherous, if not deadly. There was the omnipresence of hungry wolves, their eyes glowing red in the shadows as they stalked their next meal. There was the sound of the slithering snakes and serpents as they sought to poison your veins. And overhead, the silhouettes of clarion birds, ready to pick your bones … everything here sought to kill you, and eat you.
My horse sensed the danger. I patted its thick neck and I pressed onwards in the twilight. We reached the dark moat that surrounded the ivory-covered walls of the manor on the moors. Crossing the narrow bridge across the mote, I found the gates open for my arrival. The manor wasn’t as grand as Lady Phallus’s castle but seemed to be just as expansive. I put my horse in the stable, with hay to eat, hung my saddle, and made my way to the darkened manor hall entry.
To my complete surprise, as the old wooden door opened, standing at the doorway, awaiting my arrival was Sophie.
”You’re here,” I managed to say.
We embraced tightly. Warmly. As if our time apart had brought something new and interesting to our estrangement. The first thing I noticed was the slight bump in the front of her stomach. Was she pregnant again? I didn’t say anything. I was just so pleased to see her — alive and in one piece.
“Come, you must be tired and hungry,” she replied.
Her young voice sounded different — I thought about her diary — I thought about her ordeal. I thought about how it was me that had brought her here, to the North of Celtic Wales — delivering her to the arms, and evil cock, of Lady Phallus. The story of her pregnancy and the consumption of her fetus by the Witch Goddess made me wonder if she would have hated me for my duplicity. But, there seemed to be a charm and a warmth in her that made me feel welcome … maybe even loved.
”There’s so much to tell you. But first, you must meet Lady Priapus. She is waiting.”
”Yes, of course. I have a message … an invitation for her .. from Lady Phallus.”
Sophie was dressed in a long, white-translucent gown that hugged the shape of her tiny tits and down, over her bloated stomach. She looked elegant and somewhat more mature than the young girl who had been my fiancée. Dare I say, something was alluring about her dark make-up and lush, long hair.
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”Welcome, young man,” said the baritone voice of Lady Priapus.
Her grey-blue eyes looked upon me in a creepy, sexual way. As if she was undressing me as she licked her thick lips. Her tongue slithered like a long, grey worm. Lady Priapus looked as if she could be Lady Phallus’s older sister. A much older sister, maybe even a grand aunt. There was a strange kind of resemblance between them.
The old witch moved much slower and appeared to be rather infirm. Her skin was wrinkled and pitted with age marks. Her whitish-grey hair fell loosely and unkept around her narrow shoulders. She was dressed in a long white-translucent gown, not so dissimilar to that which Sophie wore. I could see the shape of her dark, sharp nipples as they pressed outwards against the sheer fabric, and lower, a bulging curve of what I could only imagine to be her flaccid cock.
”Thank you for your hospitality,” I replied, “I have an invitation for you, from Lady Phallus”
I delivered the rolled-parchment invitation to her to her long bejewelled fingers and said nothing further.
Sophie moved forward and assisted Lady Priapus with the opening of the invitation as if she were her aid. What was the nature of their relationship? Was she her carer? Was she her lover? Could it have been Lady Priapus who impregnated young Sophie?
”Excellent,” the old witch moaned, licking her lips again, “Excellent. It’s been such a … long while. The timing is perfect …”
The comment was meant for Sophie, not for me. The old witch twitched. Her long-nailed fingers gripped onto Sophie’s petite shoulder. It seemed as if they were communicating without words. I remembered how it had been with Lady Phallus — how she was in my head — and I just knew what she wanted. It seemed this way, between Sophie and Lady Priapus. The witch looked over the open parchment. I had not understood the strange squiggles and inked marks on the parchment — it was written in a language other than my native English tongue. The witch seemed very pleased — even excited.
I watched as the old witch and Sophie turned to each other and began to kiss. Mouth to mouth. Sophie sucked on the witch’s slimy old lips as her grey, worm-like tongue-fucked Sophies’s mouth in front of me. It looked disgusting … but weirdly arousing at the same time. The witch’s claw-like fingers gripped Sophie’s ass through the white-translucent material of Sophie’s shape-hugging gown, pressing her bloated belly against the bulge around the witch’s groin.
”Bring him,” I heard her say to Sophie.
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It was obvious that Sophie had been looking forward to my visit … being with her … with her and Lady Priapus. She’d give me a gown, just like hers and the witch to wear. Though I was comfortable in my clothing, I thought it rude to refuse. I quickly changed, wearing nothing beneath it, just as they did — noting that Sophie’s eyes watched me as I undressed. My cock was already semi-erect … she smiled mischievously.
They’d brought me to what appeared to have been a small chapel with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. The architecture was of Christian design but it hadn’t been very well maintained. It was decrepit. Maybe once, it had been a place of reverence and sacred worship once — used by a wealthy, Christian landowner — but that wasn’t what I saw now.
At one end, there was an altar, covered with many strange pagan-like relics, obscene idols, an inverted crucifix, and dark artefacts of sex magick and witchcraft. At the other end, was an enormous fireplace. It seemed that there were supernatural forces at work — as we entered, the fireplace burst into life — the red and orange flames immediately rose inside it, lighting the darkened interior and magically transforming the chapel into a sex demon’s temple. The witch must be a conjurer, I thought. In the firelight, I saw the stark walls become an infestation of sexuality — as if they were made of sexual flesh. And the cold stone floor too, creaked and blemished with age and neglect, changed into something organic … wet and alive.
The fire cracked loudly and created the smell of burnt things but beneath its aroma, there were suddenly other stronger odors that filled my senses … sweat, sexual juices, urine, and human excrement. At the center of the small chapel, appeared a black-padded dias … it’s surface felt warm and alive with the texture of the devil’s tongue. It was adorned with sigils of Celtic witchcraft and seemed to invite participants to lay upon, it to fornicate upon its blasphemous surface.
We all climbed up upon the dias. The old witch indicated that we should both kneel before her. She raised her hands high and wide and began to speak in a strange Celtic tongue.
”Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Satan’as wgah’nagl fhtagn,” proclaimed the witch.
”In the realm of ancient dreams, Satan awaits our summoning,” translated Sophie, as she whispered in my ear.
“Satan’as froklee’h sukpiss kunt’fuka. Satan’as! Satan’as!”
I could see the witch’s cock beginning to awaken inside her curve-hugging gown, pressing outwards and upwards like an obscene, silk-covered banana. Sophie gripped my hand and placed it upon the witch’s bulge, drawing my hand down its length, as we collectively stroked her obscene protrusion. The strangeness of the ritual had begun to impact me. Being with Sophie again … her complete and utter acceptance of this bizarre sexual rite … making my cock-flesh hard as it pressed against the inside of my gown.
”Sukpiss kunt’fuka. Hail Satan’as!” repeated Sophie, “Say it!”
”Sukpiss kunt’fuka … Hail Satan’as …” I stuttered.
The white-translucent material around the witch’s cock suddenly became wet beneath my finger as I continued to masturbate the witch. The material turned translucent-yellow as the witch began to urinate inside her gown and her piss began to flow over my fingers. The smell of urea was overpowering but Sophie continued to guide my fingers over the witch’s pissing bulge drawing us both closer — until we were both so close that the force of the witch’s piss flow sprayed against our faces … like a perverted baptism.
Sophie bent further sucking at the piss-drenched gown that covered the witch’s cock as even more urine sprayed directly into her mouth. She withdraw and press my face onto the witch’s cock … I followed her lead and sucked the witch’s pissing cock through her gown … the taste was strong and acrid. I drank from her cock until Sophie pulled me back.
”You are one of us …” she whispered, “Sukpiss kunt’fuka!”
Both Sophie and the witch began to remove their gowns — I took the cue and removed my clothing too — and it was then that I first noticed how much Sophie’s body had changed too.
I couldn’t believe it! Her bulging belly, up until this point, had disguised the fact that below her waistline — her clitoris looked huge — its shape and form were almost exactly like that of a man’s erect cock. Against her thin and nubile body, her phallus looked obscenely disproportionate. Her transformation was almost monstrous! More like Lady Phallus and Lady Priapus. Her fully erect cock stood upright, from beneath her bloated impregnated guts, with its foreskin drawn back over its bulbous purple head.
“Sukpiss kunt’fuka!” croaked the old witch.
Sophia’s eyes were dark slits, as she stared at me hungrily.
”I know … that like … what you see …” hissed the strange creature that I thought was once my fiancee.
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THE END?
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