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

STORY CODES: LGBT, Cohesion, Corruption, Lolita, NC, Rape, Bondage, Sadism, WS, Drug use, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, and Evil themes.

AUTHORS NOTES: Thanks to Derek for his input – sorry it’s probably not as extreme as you like, but I hoped to meet you halfway.

CREATED: 24.12.2015 / REVISITED: 20.08.2023

Magus 3


At the fingertips of the Magus are the symbols of the four tarot suits: the wand indicates the fire signs (Lust, Anger, and Passion); the cup indicates the water signs (Urine, Blood, and Semen); the sword, the air signs (Respiration, Burping, Farting); and the pentacles, the earth signs (Flesh, Force, and Malleability). The four tarot suits signify the elements of social life; the wands indicate power; the cup intoxicants (often paired with sexual activity); the sword indicates phallus; and the pentacle indicates money. It’s due to this mastery over the elements figuratively and literally, that endows the Magus with irresistible power.

This nature also possesses the ”magic of youth” demonstrating this in both vigor of pursuit and activity. The Magus is prone to pedophiliac impulses, seeking to unite his or her own psychic youth with a child exhibiting comparable physical youth. No matter the chronological age, the Magus sees the endless flow of sexual energy signified by the nimbus above and the ‘serpent eating his own tail’ around the waist of the Magus.


It was November 1875 when the Bishop found that he had no choice but to escape to the uncertain shores of the Congo. As fate would have it, this was as much of an opportunity, albeit his exit to avoid certain imprisonment for his misuse of his ‘magical powers’ and the crimes of abduction, abuse, rape, and murder of orphan children. In a land with no rules, his church aligns with both the corrupt local administration that has learned about the Bishop’s true identity and also with the native traditions that openly use sexual violence and perversity to control competing interests.


The gong sounded and the daisy chain of naked urchins, paraded one by one as they entered the secret underground temple of the Church of the Righteous God. At the front of the line, the smallest and frailest had been decorated with a white leaf laurel upon his shaved head. The other children were all weak and trembling from both malnourishment and from the sexual abuse that they had endured from the Bishop’s evil clergy – who had delighted themselves in their sadistic sexual vices.

The evil temple stank of stale urine, feces, semen, and blood of the cult’s countless young victims – beaten and raped in their perverted sex rites. A sizzling of dark magic hung in the air encircling the huge statue of the Baphomet that loomed over the terrified children — its slick black phallus inspired abject terror; as did the decor of the demonic temple devoted to sadomasochistic pleasures.

Medieval devices of sexual torture and human sacrifice had been selected to appease the omnipresent sex demons; that awaited to gratify their lustful appetites. Evil spirits were drawn to this place. This was a place of wickedness — there would be no quarter given here; they would all suffer and die at the hands of these sexual vampires.

The Bishop aka the ‘Magus of Satan’, and Sister Veronica, one of his most perverted of High Priestesses, presided over the gathering of highly aroused devil worshipers all naked but for a thin vale of ceremonial goatskin that hung loosely before their groins — it barely concealed their bulging erect penises and steamy hot vaginas that all dripped with sexual juice as they all looked hungrily at their intended young victims.

All the emaciated children had been fed a toxic concoction of the Magus’s own making; that shortly after consumption removed all inhibition and turned up their libidos to the point of sex insanity. The hexed orgy feast would begin almost imminently. Between Sister Veronica’s bare breasts hung a heavy Goat of Mendes, as did the other sisters, with their hard nipples and aureolas painted black as a sign of their devotion to the Bishop’s evil demon gods.

“The time has come my high priests, brothers and sisters! To celebrate the demons of our loins – to draw upon their wanton and perverted energies to sate our own sexual vices and unleash the devil’s desires we coven as followers of the Lord of Darkness – the true God! The Depraved God! The Phallic God! The Sex God! To use these gifts he has bestowed upon us – to gratify our carnal lusts. What say you?”

“Hail Lord of Darkness — the true God! The Phallic God! Sex God! The Depraved GOD!”

They vehemently responded as they all tore away their last vestige of modesty. Fists closed around the shafts of their cocks bloated with tainted blood; fingers penetrated their hot wet cunts; all feverish in dark licentiousness that surged inside of them as they pumped their hips back and forth and masturbated themselves fervently. The gong sounded again.

“The True God demands a sacrifice – bring forth a young one!” cried Sister Veronica.

Brother Michael and Brother Andrew grabbed the boy decorated in the white leaf laurel and secured the boy before the great phallic idol — his arms and legs stretched out in preparation for the sacrifice. Brother Michael brought the challis that was filled to the brim with the spent semen of the other boys (collected in earlier rituals) and pressed its rim to the boy’s mouth. The boy weakly tried not to swallow any of its content but Brother Michael pinched off his nose and poured its content into the boy’s gullet. The boy gulped for air, and in doing so, was forced to consume some of the salty goo. The rest of the spent semen, Brother Michael poured over the boy’s face – smearing it over him in ritual preparation. Now the boy was prepared, he then knelt in front of the shaking boy, taking his flaccid little penis and ball sacks into his mouth.

Brother Andrew stood immediately behind the boy, pressing his own erection between the oily valley of the boy’s tight buttocks, rubbing the pulsing length of his cock up and down. As he frotted against the fragile boy, his hands closed around the boy’s thin throat. The frightened boy struggled, pulling against his restraints left and right, making some breathless gurgling sounds, as his air supply was cut.

“Take this sacrifice, oh GREAT DEMON, come to us through him and bless this ritual in your honor. Bring us the dark pleasures we desire!” cried the evil Magus as he masturbated furiously watching the boy suffocate.

Brother Andrew pushed his itchy erection into the boy’s pre-oiled anus. The crown of his cock had breached the boy’s tight little sphincter and the gathering chanted louder and louder as he buggered him hard and fast. He was on the verge of an unstoppable orgasm; a pleasure so intense that nothing would stop him from reaching his impending ejaculation.

As the monk strangled the child, his lithe body thrashed about, dancing erotically upon his thick long cock, inducing a dark new pleasure that surged through the monk, starting in his groin and quickly radiating outwards through his whole body – as if it was exploding through his cock head. The boy’s body suddenly slumped and went completely limp – just dangling upon the rigid cock meat that impaled it.

The freshly dead seemed to spasm momentarily. Brother Michael felt the dead boy’s cock go rigid in this mouth – from flaccid to rock-hard cock flesh — the dimensions enlarged to that of a well-endowed man now pressed inches down his gullet — fucking his throat. The dead boy began to orgasm and his semen spurted forth from his erection. There was far too much for Brother Andrew to simply swallow.

It poured from the sides of his mouth and even out of his nostrils – he pulled back from the boy sacrifice to see the victim’s eyes open wide. They were demonic eyes. Evil eyes. Staring at him. The strangled boy smiled with dirty broken teeth — more of a snarl than a smile. His dead body seemed completely reanimated. It was possessed by something dark and highly sexual. Brother Andrew’s cock slid from the boy’s oily anus as he stumbled back, his semen spend dripped from the dead boy’s torn anal opening.

“Oh, GREAT DEMON!” cried the Bishop as they all fell to their knees before their possessed child.

“Oh, GREAT DEMON!” chanted the evil worshipers.

The Magus stood up slowly and removed the child’s bonds. He carefully led the naked child toward the high altar. The young boy’s demeanor had transformed completely from that of a terrified child to that of something wild and unpredictable — the demon’s grotesquely huge erect penis bobbed as he moved and dripped with copious sexual juices. Again the Magus knelt before the demon that they had summoned to their rite and took its penis into his mouth — closely followed by the other worshipers, all of them eager to pledge themselves through oral copulation to the animated sex demon.


The stout barrister, dressed in his short wig and legal robe, looked across at the Bishop and then stood up before Judge Geoffrey Houseman. It was to be a preliminary hearing. The accused, Bishop George Smith-Baker, had been detained on the suspicion of multiple charges by the Crown. If this case were to proceed to trial, it would prove to be one of the most outrageous cases to be heard at the time.

“Your Honour the prosecution’s case is based upon pure conjecture,” the barrister leveled an ingratiating look at the Crown prosecutor, “The Crown has failed to bring forward a single credible witness or any shred of evidence to substantiate their wild and slanderous accusations. My client is a pillar of the community. His reputation is beyond reproach. At this time I submit that this is a baseless case, aimed to bring bad character upon the clergy.”

“Your Honor,” interjected the Crown prosecutor.

He looked both panicked and indecisive, neither traits that he was known for – something felt wrong like a mysterious sickness. He wanted to throw up and his bowels turned uncomfortably,

“It … it is true that the witnesses have failed to appear for the hearing. We … we just need time to locate them,” he stammered, again, in a way not particular to his usual confident and aggressive court demeanor.

“Affirmation that my learned friend has failed to bring forward any credible witnesses or evidence at this is – motion for dismissal of all charges.”

The Judge looked at the Crown prosecutor.

“Well? These are very serious charges.”

“We believe … we believe that the accused is a very dangerous individual; that is also known as the ‘Magus of Satan’; that there is a conspiracy at the highest levels among those in his church; and that his sexually perverse clergy engage in molestation, rape and even murder of children to conceal these crimes,” cried the prosecutor, feebly and unconvincingly.

The courtroom felt hot and heavy and he felt faint and dizzy.

“Do you have any witnesses and evidence to suppose probable cause Counsel? YES or NO?” asserted the Judge.

“No … no your Honor, we had witnesses, but they … are missing at this point in time,” the Crown prosecutor answered reluctantly.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his flushed face. There was blood in his nasals and sweat seemed to pour from his entire face.

“Then you leave me no other course of action, with your total lack of evidence, but to uphold opposing counsel’s motion to dismiss all charges.”

“But your Honor … these are sick people, exploiting the poor and destitute children of the London streets … they’re devil worshipers … I had witnesses who were prepared to testify that they performed sexualized rituals where the rape of a child was central to their profane acts!”

“Do not bring this in front of me again without solid evidence. Don’t waste the Court’s time with your witch hunt,” asserted the Judge.

“Thank you, your Honor,” accepted the Bishop’s barrister.


The Judge and Bishop met in the Judge’s chambers shortly after the verdict of the preliminary hearing.

“More than once I have witnessed the strange powers you possess over the human and the demonic worlds, but what did you do to the Crown prosecutor? He looked as if he was going to die in there?” asked the Judge.

“He will not die. But he will never be the same again,” answered the Bishop.

“I am very concerned,” said the Judge, looking at the smug Bishop as he gulped down a glass of his best Scotch, “The Crown will not stop. This was a temporary reprieve. Casting omens on these guys is not the solution.”

“I hear you,” answered the Bishop.

“If they find nothing, they will fabricate something to take you down. It would be best for all of us if you were to take a trip away. Well, until another scandal sweeps the front pages. You will be quickly forgotten if you stay out of sight.”


“Yes. Take a long trip away. Maybe venture to the tropics? I hear that they entertain many of the dark arts in Asia. It’s all the rage there and with your wealth and power, you can continue your dark ambitions unabated — all in the name of the Righteous God no less!” stated the Judge.

They both laughed together and drink more Scotch.

“Africa – the Dark Continent is another such destination that I have heard is crying out for liberation. A godless place inhabited by niggers and heathens who run amuck — all naked, formicating, killing each other.”

“Sounds absolutely wonderful.”

“It does. A paradise for the likes of us! And the Magus of Satan could do anything he wanted to there — with your mystical powers could bring them the religious conscription they need to serve the ‘Devils’ of the Righteous God – unquestioningly, unreservedly, and unconditionally.”

They both laughed again.

“Another Scotch, George?” asked the Judge as he poured a double, “Let’s drink to the Magus!”


The Bishop had heeded the Judge’s good advice and had made hasty preparations, destroying all evidence of their satanic temple and setting sail immediately on the next tide for foreign shores. It was not a moment too soon, as the determined Crown inspectors executed their bogus search warrants, targeting the Church of the Righteous God — only to discover that they had vanished.



Arriving some twenty or so days later in the Port of Banana on the west coast of the Congo, the missionaries comprising of the Bishop (the Magus), his trusted inner circle of twelve (made up of the most perverted of his nuns and monks) as well as about another six of those who were not completely in the know of the true purpose of the Church of the Righteous God. They all orientated themselves quickly.

The inner circle wasted no time making unofficial inquiries into the corrupt local government and the ramshackle French administration about the best location for their intended mission settlement. With many palms greased, they secured prime lands and judiciary over several large properties rich with natural resources.

After displacing the so-called native owners from these new domains, using black mercenaries left over from the local slave trade, they intended to organize the construction of a significantly fortified settlement to house an infant school and orphanage, as well as building a church to hide their new satanic temple and further their demonic African ambitions.

To seal the deal with the local administration, the Bishop and Sister Veronica arrived at the French Governor Jean-Marc Prouveur’s mansion. Their carriage came to a stop under the shaded entry. The gaunt-looking black doorman opened the carriage and guided the two guests toward the doorway of the Governor’s lavish mansion. Inside the reception stood the rather effeminate French Governor, his pretty young wife, and their two pre-teen children as they awaited the arrival of their guests.

“Governor,” acknowledged the Bishop, “May I present Sister Veronica, a loyal member of our church?”

“Sister Veronica.”

The Governor bowed gracefully and kissed her gloved hand.

“Bishop. Sister Veronica. May I introduce my wife, Lady Josephine, and my two children, Adel is eleven and Alex is twelve.”

The Bishop eyed the Governor’s pretty family, so exquisite, so innocent looking. For a moment he imagined them all naked before him which started the blood rushing to his twitching cock that was well concealed in the dark folds of his habit.

“Good to meet you all.”

‘We have heard many great things of you, for one who has not long arrived in the Dark Continent,” welcomed Lady Josephine in her sultry French accent.

After the cordial greetings, the Bishop and the Sister found themselves in the Governor’s private entertainment area located in a secluded upstairs informal room. After copious liquid refreshments of the finest wines and spirits the Bishop felt slightly intoxicated, even more aroused and his bladder gave signs that he would need to relieve himself shortly.

The Governor dismissed the black house staff, telling them that they were not too disturbed. They closed the double doors that lead out of the abode. The Bishop, Sister Veronica, and the Governor’s family were all alone. The Governor asked Alex and Adel to fetch their new toy. They disappeared as the Governor turned to the Bishop.

“May I come straight to the point, Bishop? We are so sincerely glad to be meeting you at last.”

The Governor seemed a little tipsy, but nevertheless very upbeat spilling more wine than he was drinking.

“Lady Josephine and I have been very excited by some of the rumors shared among our most trusted agents from your English shores — rumors that tell us about your mystic identity, hasty departure, and of the true nature of the Church of the Righteous God.”

“Oh? And, what may I inquire what those rumors could be?” replied the Bishop curiously, his nervousness hidden by years of covertness.

“The rumor that the native infant school; an orphanage for displaced niglets and the church itself is just an elaborate front for your pedophile clergy to indulge in their demonic abuses and satanic sex rituals. Well … besides being widely known as the Bishop of the Church of the Righteous God – some, in selected circles, may call you the ‘Magus of Satan’?” said the Governor plainly.

“Is that the rumor?”

The Bishop expected the worst — but there was something about the gay smirk on the Governor’s face that made the accusation seem a contradiction to his intent.

“Please relax Bishop. We are completely sympathetic to your cause. As I said, my wife and I are excited to hear the news.”

“I don’t understand Governor?”

By the time the words had left the Bishop’s mouth, the Governor’s son, Alex, and daughter, Adel, had returned with their ‘new toy’. Both the pretty young brother and sister, as well as the young slave boy, were all dressed in plain white tunics that fell from their shoulders to halfway up their thighs – fastened over the shoulder and at the waist by simply tied straps.

The Bishop looked lustily at their semi-nakedness as he scanned the mischievous-looking kids who proudly had their ‘new toy’ on a common dog leash. They grinned impishly as they lead the boy on his hands and knees into the carpeted area in the center of the Governor’s private entertainment area.

“Asseoir, petit chien. Asseoir.” (Sit, little dog, sit.) Said Adel in her cute French accent just like her mother’s. The black child looked humiliated but did exactly as he was told. “Montrer l’invité de votre jolie père nigger bitte.” (Show Father’s guests your pretty nigger cock.)

She pulled at the straps and the tunic fell away so that the black child was now completely naked. The Bishop and Sister Veronica were both on the edge of their seats with unexpected delight.

“We all have secrets. Some are just more interesting than others. You see, Lady Josephine and I, have both enjoyed many dépravé things together — it started when we first arrived here. We could not resist bringing these delicious young black boys and girls to our bedroom. We had always nurtured a loving and incestuous relationship between our children and us and it was natural that they too wanted to enjoy these new experiences. Where at home, could we be so blatant about it?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” replied the Bishop.

The Governor’s children both knelt with their toy, pressing themselves against his coal-black body, Adel to the child’s front and Alex to the boy’s rear. They began to rub themselves against the nigger child making their tiny tunics ride up, displaying that they too were all completely naked beneath. Both Adel and Alex groaned lewdly in their private sexual pleasures, despite the nigger child’s obvious discomfort. The Bishop’s cock was fully rampant and drooling pre-cum beneath his robe. He longed to stroke it. He could clearly see Alex’s hard white boy-cock pressing against the black boy’s anus, while Adel’s hands groped the nigger boy’s genitals bringing him from flaccidity to a reluctant full erection.

“My children love it here Bishop, as do Jean-Marc and I,” groaned Lady Josephine.

She parted her legs wider so that she could touch herself as she watched her perverted children perform before them all.

“We believe deeply in your cause and are very committed to it Bishop. We are prepared to make a large donation to your church — should it be as the rumors say. I have heard stories of your abilities — about your sexual magick?” added the Governor eagerly.

The Bishop responded with a broad smile. He thought that he was going to have to bewitch them – but they were already more willing than he ever imagined possible. This was going to be easy.

“We are deeply touched, Governor. You make a compelling offer,” replied the Bishop who, like Sister Veronica, was eager now to join in with the miscreant children.

“We want only to further your worship, to fully support the ideals of the Magus of Satan, to celebrate the devil’s work, and openly share our common interests,” said the effeminate Governor pulling his aching gay cock from his britches for all to see.

Taking his lead, the Bishop pulled his robe up, so he too could join the masturbation fest.

“We would be greatly honored by your presence at our first ritual Governor – Lady Josephine, Adel, and Alex would be fine additions to our perverted brethren.” Added the Bishop thrusting his fist up and down his drooling cock, as he watched intensely as the Governor’s son sank his boy-cock into the rectum of the reluctant black child – his sister now tongue-kissing her own brother as her small fingers closed around the nigger child’s cock keeping aroused as she guided his black stiffness into her baby-vagina.

“They are so hot to watch!” announced Sister Veronica.

She removed her habit completely and joined the Governor’s pretty young wife on their black velvet chaise lounge. The two women kissed each other wantonly, exchanging deep tongue-fucks as they excitedly rubbed each other’s engorged clits — neither taking an eye off of the pre-teen threesome, now all completely naked and rutting for all it was worth.

“Daddy we need your blessing,” begged young Adel with a wickedness that exceeded her years.

“Of course darling. The devil loves you piss wet,” answered the horny incestuous Governor.

He stood over his children and began to urinate over them with his pungent hot piss. The young black child grimaced with obvious distaste, but Alex and Adel yelled enthusiastically for more and fucked the reluctant black child harder and harder. The Bishop stood next to the Governor, whose piss stream had now depleted. The Governor smiled and stroked the Bishop’s cock as he aimed his cock head towards the black boy.

“Baptize them, Bishop. Let the urine of the Magus of Satan be their unholy blessing. Who will you fuck first, Adel or Alex?”

“I want you all.”

The Bishop pressed down, relaxing his bladder. Dark yellow urine squirted over the threesome. Adel and Alex opened their mouths to drink from the Bishop’s hot salty rain.

Lady Josephine got up from the chaise lounge and joined the piss-soaked children on the drenched carpet. Lady Josephine is now naked; the fingers of her left hand tortured her tiny rosebud nipples, whilst her right hand pulled back her labia so that her urethra was fully exposed. A hot gush of urine sprayed from her hairless slit as she now rubbed her clitoris as hard as she could without interrupting her copious urine flow.

“Mommy! Mommy! It’s so delicious!” cried the piss-wet children.

Not wanting to be left out of the golden showers, Sister Veronica joined her new lover and was about to pee, when Lady Josephine intervened.

“Sister, the children cannot have all the fun! I am so thirsty, please save your champagne for my mouth — I hope you are hot and salty?”

The Governor eagerly knelt before the Bishop and lapped up the last droplets of golden juice, then licked the Bishop’s shaft as he cradles his balls and massaged his perineum – pushing his index finger deep into the Bishop’s sphincter.

“The devil has brought us all together, my followers,” blessed the Magus, pressing the Governor’s head down upon his thrusting cock.


With the approval of the Governor and the displacement of the previous landowners, the Bishop had asked the mercenaries what they would do with the children of these ‘displaced’ people and was told that they would be sold as slaves to those who still operated the illegal slave trade with the Americas.

“We kill the adults that resist. Most of their ‘niglets’ will be sold to the traders; a few will be used as sex slaves; while others will be eaten by my hungry brothers and sisters,” said the machete-welding mercenary leader, Hades.

“Interesting,” answered the Bishop.

He liked this Hades. It was as the Judge had said. Here there would be little resistance to their demonic practices — as it seemed rape, death, and cannibalism were simply the norm.

A deal was struck with Hades and the ‘niglets’ were sold to the Church of the Righteous God (to do with them as they saw fit). Money it seemed was the new religion most worshiped by the mercenaries and locals alike.

The Bishop was keen to learn more about their powerful black magic and to experience firsthand the most profane of the local ritual practices. He had heard about the sexualized cannibalism and wanted to know more. He had heard about the perverted goddess that some of the extreme tribes worshiped.

Those who worshiped Ayida-Weddo were some of the most fanatical of tribes craving the sacraments of urine, blood, and semen. They were supposedly very fierce, using violence and bloodthirsty rituals to intimidate the other tribes around them. This devil cult idolized Ayida-Weddo as a phallic hermaphroditic goddess, with the genitals of both a man and a woman.

It seemed that Hades had done business with the tribe’s elders as they too enjoyed the flesh of the young. With a large donation to their cause and about twenty or so ‘niglet’ to sweeten the deal, the Bishop was welcomed as a guest of honor at their cave-like temple. A ritual sacrifice and feast were to be held in their honor.

The Bishop selected two of his most perverted followers, Brothers Michael and Andrew — both with extreme tastes in wickedness and sexual torture and Sister Angelica — a nun whose loyalty to the Bishop had come into question during their exit from London. The Bishop had deliberately minimized her involvement with their secret activities — so to prevent any further lapses. It would be an interesting test.



Upon arrival at the ‘cave temple’, the four missionaries were initially viewed suspiciously as they entered. Hundreds of black faces turned and looked upon them as if their presence violated their sacred grounds. Before anything untoward could occur the arrival of Hades among these white strangers seemed to immediately quell their discomfort.

The Bishop felt a familiar dark magic present in their abode. The smell of nakedness, of raw sex and nigger sweat was overwhelming — his cock ached to be touched as his erection rubbed acutely against the inside of his course robe.

Hades spoke in words that the Bishop could not comprehend and the crowd opened a pathway through their midnight rite in the tribe’s cave temple so that they could walk towards their hosts, the tribal elders.

Looking around the dark naturally formed cavern, the Bishop was elated to see the similarities between their cock-goddess Ayida-Weddo, whose effigies were depicted clearly in the large pornographic painting that lined the cave interior, and their beloved Baphomet – the demon god that they had secretly worshiped through black magic rituals in bowels of their monastery under the guise of righteousness for over a decade without detection.

A nostalgic memory of times past crossed the Bishop’s mind – It was when the Bishop, as a young priest, first began his journey into darkness. It was a time when he was to forsake his imbecilic Christian doctrine and embrace the corrupt feelings of his heart — a heart that no longer wished goodwill to all mankind but was desirous of the most repulsive, the most obscene, the most deprived.

Maybe this course might have been different if it had been only him that sorted this union with darkness, but there were others, all like-minded in their hate of the false god — rebelling and embracing the devil’s desires. There had been only three of them, to begin with; they shared the taboo pleasures, forbidden by scripture, of homosexuality in the secret sanctuary that they had created out of sight of the disapproving eyes of their church elders. The three become five and they proclaimed their love of sex demons, painting the walls of the crypt with blasphemous images of the Baphomet, the Goat of Mendes, and the inverted crucifix.

It was there that they defecated upon the symbols of God Almighty; drank urine and semen in ritualized sex with each other; where mutual masturbation, oral sex, and sodomy became their preferred forms of demonic praise. Five become seven. No longer sate with consensual sex, their first ‘sacrifice’ for Candlemass had been a significant moment — it brought new challenges, but even greater depths to their experiences with dark pleasures. It had been the first time that he, as a young servant of the Devil, had summoned the ‘god beast’ – through whose loins flowed the sacred golden elixir that would set them free.

They did not know what to expect. The boy-Bishop had doubts and fears about the evil that he was about to summon at the midnight ceremony. What would be the retribution for these evil and murderous acts? There was no retribution – only dark pleasure. They were all about thirteen years old by that time, physically stronger than most of the younger acolytes.

They abducted one of their own. He had a pretty face and was innocent of desire, pure of thought, and chaste of loins. They brought a young acolyte, who was maybe ten or eleven years old; to their sanctuary and stripped him naked; laid him before their crude idols and effigies of the Devil. At first, they concealed their identities, covering themselves like the Luperci, the ‘brothers of the wolf (lupus)’, priests of Faunus, dressed only in goatskin loin clothes with goat horns upon their crowns – as if paying tribute to Pan, the demonic pagan god of sexual perversion, pedophilia, and rape.

They prayed out loud in obscene verses to the Horned One as the young boy cried out in anguish. One of the boys even blew upon a flute that had been lovingly carved to form an erect penis. He begged them to release him, not to harm him. He promised not to tell anyone; he begged them to stop. But down in the crypt, nobody could hear him but the seven miscreants — who fully intended to rape him and offer him to their demons.

The fumes of an eerie magic had concentrated themselves from unseen sources and the boy-Bishop had followed the obscene mystical ritual to summon a demon in the embodiment of their intended victim. Anticipation gripped his black heart — as he knew not what would eventuate, but still felt compelled to follow his evil plot. Their cocks were fully erect and pressed against the thin goatskin loincloths as they rubbed themselves against each other, exchanging rough tongue kisses.

He brought the challis filled with semen and golden water to the boy, telling him to drink it and he would be spared. It was of course a lie — they had no intention of sparing the boy, as he would be the vessel for their sex god to be reborn. He tried to drink the concoction but vomited instead. The boys willingly drank it and spat it over the boy’s face – smearing it over his face and genitals. They all kissed and tongued his navel for that signified the rebirth of their sex demon.

They sucked his flaccid cock and pressed the phallic flute into his anus – the thick wooden cock caused the boy to scream in agony as they pushed it inside of him. The moment had come; they removed their goatskin loincloths, their moans of lust grew and their cocks now had streams of pre-cum hanging down. He was the last to sodomize the boy — each had taken a turn as their ritual sacrifice screamed – closing his hands around the boy’s neck he choked off the boy’s air supply as he spurted his semen deep into the boy’s bowels. The pleasure was intense. The demon was coming – he could feel it – reanimated from Hell.

“What is this place?” expressed the naive Sister Angela in complete and utter horror at the sight of the native hordes naked and restless, “This is not right — Bishop we should not be in this evil place.”

“It would be rude for us not to accept the invitation of our new black brothers. They are the elders of this formidable tribe. We must not be so quick to judge these people and their tribal ways — no matter how different they are to our own beliefs.”

The Bishop extended her a false sense of assurance — knowing to a certain extent that this would not end well for her under these circumstances should his hunch about her loyalty be correct.

The tribal elders sat cross-legged – meditating as they conjured their own form of dark sex magick. They were all naked stroking their black meat as they sat upon their stone platform elevated some three feet above the warm compacted earthen of the cave floor. Climbing the narrow stone steps, Hades guided the Bishop and his party toward them. Once there, they were welcomed to join them — as they resided over the hundreds of naked tribesmen and tribeswomen already dancing in vulgar movement, most masturbating while others frotted against each other with great expectancy.

The strong persistent drumbeat reverberated off the cave’s concaved walls that resembled a curved dome-like structure but was open to the night sky above. Intoxicated and excited voices from the tribe spasmodically rose up over drumming — as they cried out for the sacrifice to begin. Illuminated by the great fires that burned around the cave peripheral, these fires filled the air with a perfumed plumage heavily laced with strong aphrodisiacs that stroked the tribes’ perverted libidos.

The Bishop and Hades moved before the tribal elders. The Bishop felt the presence of their unseen powers – their black magick glistened in the whites of their eyes and in the pre-cum that drooled from their cocks. They both knelt as the Elders stood and the Bishop took the erect penis of each of the elders in turn, sucking their slimy black helmets between his lips (as Hades had told him to do).

The elders were pleased and indicated that the Bishop’s party be seated with them. They too seemed to have noticed the dark alchemy of their new ally. The Bishop stripped naked displaying his own rock-hard cock to the elders. Again they looked pleased that he respected their tribal ways. Brother Michael and Brother Andrew quickly followed suit.

Young Sister Angelica was more than conflicted by the whole process and now she was expected to remove her clothing before these heathen black perverts? Seeing the sweaty nigger bodies of the emaciated elders in their permanent state of sexual arousal was just too much for her; and then her own Bishop and Brothers, equally aroused, seemed to be too disgusting and disturbing for words.

They were here to stop these types of heathen practices not to participate willingly in them. She looked around, both panicked and afraid — looking to back up and exit by the way they came in. But that opportunity had passed as the crowd seemed even more sexually frustrated. The cave had taken on a depraved energy force all of its own — a devilishness that quaked Sister Angelica’s deepest fears.

“Undress Sister! Join us, now,” insisted the Bishop.

“But Bishop, this is vile and unholy?”

She quivered as she questioned her trust in the Bishop’s authority. “These are grotesque barbarians. It’s a sin! A mortal sin! How can you orally fornicate with them and then sit with these monstrous heathens as if this is what is expected of you? This is Devil worship! We should leave this place immediately.”

“It would be rude of us not to accept the tribal elders’ welcome. They are powerful allies to us – their black magic is irresistible and provocative. Maybe Brother Michael or Brother Andrew could assist you with losing up — give in to your instincts?” hissed the Bishop.

Sister Angela looked at the two naked white men that now flanked her, her Brothers of the Church of the Righteous God, their wicked cocks standing upright and frothing with glistening strands of precum.

“Bishop, I am shocked … I am leaving!”

“I don’t think so, Sister. They’re all hungry for white cunt! They adore white meat! We mustn’t disappoint them — must we?” said Brother Michael.

Brother Andrew laughed and grabbed Sister Angelica’s arms and pulled them behind her back as Brother Michael tore open the cause fabric of her white robe. Now the elders could see her Lilly-white flesh, her fist-sized breasts, and the soft blond down that covered her virgin cunt.

The Bishop and Hades exchanged a few words — Hades turned to the elders and spoke loudly in their native tongue. The elder’s nodded enthusiastically, each vigorously pumping their fists up and down their rock-hard cocks in anticipation.

“I told them that the white witch was your gift to them to do as they wish — a mark of great respect for them all and for Ayida-Weddo.”

Sister Angelica fainted.


Now the ritual was in full swing. Sister Angelica had indeed been stripped and hung against a tall phallic-like stalactite – she would no doubt be the bell of the ball. The elders and their guests were each assigned a young naked niglet — each set about the task of masturbating their master in time to the dull throbbing beat of the Pedro drums. The Bishop groaned in satisfaction, his sexual juices flowed as the boy’s small fingers worked them up and down his needy shaft. Others pressed their niglet to orally copulate with them for additional pleasures.

The fornicating crowd parted in the center and several young boys dressed in strange feathered costumes entered the ring of voyeurists. First, a single white boy, maybe eleven years old, was pushed into center stage. The Bishop looked enthusiastically at his slim chest and torso and flaccid boy-cock. He was dressed with something that resembled white wings upon his arms (he could have been a depiction of a dove) — the Bishop was not sure, only that he wanted to sink his eager cock into the boy’s tender young bowels.

The dove boy began to gyrate to the pressing native drums and as he moved back and forth, he was joined by several older nigger dancers, they looked to the Bishop to be about thirteen, maybe fourteen years old, with slightly more mature bodies. Dressed more like black ravens with beaks and claws. They circled around the dove-boy with horn-like appendages pointing upwards from between their bony thighs. Their dance was made up of perpetual hip thrusts and screams.

The crowd around them shouted enthusiastically as their circle of admirers closed tighter and tighter so that the black boys now pressed themselves against the dove-boy. The drumbeat stopped abruptly and the dozen or so black boys pulled the horn-like appendages away revealing to the crowd their well-endowed erect cocks.

The crowd responded with aggressive shouts in their native language and the nigger boys began to dance again, this time masturbating themselves vigorously. More screams erupted and they all began to urinate over themselves, initially angling their cocks so that they pissed into their own mouths and over each other.

They then concentrated and directed their pungent piss strays over the unseen dove boy. Once their bladders seemed to have emptied, they all began to dance even more wildly and as they did, they pressed their piss-wet bodies against each other and against dove-boy.

Again the drumbeat stopped abruptly as the piss-wet nigger boys fell to their haunches, giving the Bishop a clear view of the solo dove-boy who had been saturated in urine by the others. The beat started slow and purposeful — one beat almost every other second. The dove-boy’s wings had been torn away and now he stood up, no longer flaccid – this boy-cock pointing towards the full moon above them.

His hand closed around his own flesh and urinated over himself, directing his piss flow upwards over his stomach, chest, and further over his snaring face and into his open mouth. As his urine flow slowed, he pumped his foreskin up and down to the slow beat, as the other dancers did too, but remaining on their haunches. Renewed cries from the crowd, brought all the dancers back to their feet — this time the crowd pressed against them and the lower cave became a seething sea of fornicating bodies, men with men, boys with boys, men with boy, men with women and girls, girls with women as the entire erupted into an orgy of fornicating body parts.

“I want that boy,” the Bishop whispered to Hades.

“You will have him. I will make sure that the elders see it as reciprocation for the white nun.”

“Thank you Hades. You must join us. Join the Church of the Righteous God. You will be ordained in the blood of the innocent.”




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