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.

CREATED: 25.02.2015 / REVISITED: 15.07.2023



Definition of NEFARIOUS; from Latin nefarius “wicked, abominable, impious,” from nefas “crime, wrong, impiety,” from ne- “not” (see un -) + fas “right, lawful, divinely spoken,” related to fari “to speak”. Related: Nefariously. Adjective: to be evil; wicked; sinful.

It was the year of our Lord 1922. The place was the ancestral home of the Strathspey family in northernmost Scotland. A father bend on evil ambition turned to the worship of dark things; a devout mother had fallen victim to a mysterious and fatal sickness; a bewitching Oriental governess, seductive, alluring, and skilled in the ways of the Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.); a pre-teen son corrupted and encouraged into depravity and immorality; and a daughter martyred to the glory of the horned sex god… all the ingredients necessary for a truly nefarious tale of salaciousness, wickedness, and deviltry.

About the Ordo Templi Orientis

Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) (‘Order of the Temple of the East’ or ‘Order of Oriental Templars’) is an international fraternal and religious organization founded at the beginning of the 20th century. English author and occultist Aleister Crowley has become the best-known member of the order.

Originally it was modeled after and associated with European Freemasonry, such as Masonic Templar organizations, but under the leadership of Aleister Crowley, O.T.O. was reorganized around the Law of Thelema as its central religious principle. This Law — expressed as “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law” and “Love is the law, love under will” — was promulgated in 1904 with the writing of The Book of the Law.

Similar to many secret societies, O.T.O. membership is based on an initiatory system, father to son, mother to daughter, with a series of degree ceremonies that use ritual drama to establish fraternal bonds and impart spiritual and philosophical teachings.


When I think back about my young life, the most poignant character in those early years was not my overbearing father; nor my religiously troubled mother; not even my abused little sister; but a strange Oriental that was employed by my father shortly after my twelfth birthday.

It was the year 1922. My mother, Sarah Strathspey, was the wealthy daughter and heir to her family’s whisky empire. Her parents were long gone, she had married my father and given birth to my sister and me. She had become progressively worse of the constitution. Her ill health changed everything in my world.

They had suspected it was something to do with a viral disorder, attributed to the influenza pandemic of the previous year. Her death in the February of that year, after a short period of being bedridden, remained a mystery to the local Elgin physicians that had attended her. It had been a very difficult time for all of us.

My father, Cedric Strathspey, was a secretive man. He was often called away to vague affairs to a place called Thelema in Italy for extended periods of time, to assist a man we only knew as Mr. Crowley. His departure left the entire ‘Strathspey’ household and us in the hands of this strange witch from the Orient. Formal and unloving, my fathers, made us truly miss the gentleness and nurturing of our departed mother.

She committed, but rather troubled; Christian upbringing was to become a source of deep conflict for me as I experienced an awakening of my own sexuality that year. I remember crying myself to sleep most nights – disturbed and restless nights, punctuated by guilt and shame, combined with ghoulish nightmares and frequent cold sweats.

Nightmares drove me to want to only ever sleep in the comfort of a night light burning with the glow of reassurance and the comfort of knowing that my mother was close by. But, as she passed away, my private demons seemed to sense my imminent vulnerability, and their nightly attacks become intensified.

The demons in my dreams would appear like unholy satyrs, mythical creatures that looked half human and half goat. They were foul things prancing around the fir forest that surrounded us – always naked and sexually aroused. They delighted in performing perverted acts upon other young boys of a similar age to myself as I tried not to look on.

They would pleasure the boys and the boys would respond, as they coxed me to join them in their homosexual ritual orgies devoted to the worship of an enormous erect phallus — on occasions more frequent as time went on, the devil himself would appear as their beloved cock god demanding his followers masturbate before him and then to offer themselves to these horned sex demons for oral copulation and sodomy. And the boys gleefully did. I would awaken in a pool of hot sweat, profoundly aroused but feeling deeply ashamed, unsure if I had managed to resist their sexual advances, unable to deny my own secret desires.


Our ancestral home in the wilds of Scotland was renamed ‘Strathspey House’ after my father’s name – though it had been in my mother’s family for over five generations. The three-story house, together with its own grotto-style cellar, had been built in the early 1700. It sat against the majestic ‘Glen of Rothes’, and stood isolated among eighty acres of tall firs trees.

If I remember right, it was about sixty mile ride to Aberdeen and over nine miles from the closest village, the town of Elgin.

When my mother had been well, we made the trip, every Sunday morning, to Elgin to attend the service at the old Cathedral. The quaint charm of this medieval and devout place always made her seem at peace and brought her tranquil inclination – a sharp contrast to the disarrangement that plagued our home life.

At the service, we would all take the host. My father refused to join us and occupied his time in Elgin on other matters. Under my mother’s instruction, both my sister and I had been taking confessions from the canonical age.

“1 John 1:9 tells us to confess our sins. Yes. Confess our sin. If we don’t confess our sins and instead we hide them from God, it leaves that sin remaining in our lives. We need to confess our sins in order to be forgiven,” mumbled the elderly priest making the sign of the cross.

Though up to this point I had had little to actually confess. The process of telling the priest about my wayward dreams was one that I did not relish. I didn’t care about forgiveness and found myself increasingly disenfranchised by the whole church thing.

My night demons seemed to revel in my conflict. For the love of my mother, I faked it all. Pretending to delight in the service, but hating to look upon the twisted body of Jesus, crucified to save my unworthy soul. At confession, I lied about everything. It burned inside. I discreetly spat the host out into my hand on the way back from the altar.


I still remember the night the Oriental arrived at our house as if it were yesterday. It was late in the evening and there was a storm building on the distant horizon — in the moonlight, you could see the strong wind move the sea of fir trees like waves in a blue-black ocean.

The familiar roar of my father’s old Doble E10 momentarily interrupted the sounds of nature. Its headlights marked the course between the trees as they traveled towards us down the long driveway. It pulled up sharply against the gravel in the courtyard and then the engine fell silent.

I watched from the third-floor turret window and could make out the silhouette of my father in his long leather coat accompanied by another. Excited at the return of our father, Louise and I ran down the stairs to the front porch to welcome his return after a month of absence.

My lasting impression of this Oriental was one of astonishment — I had never seen a real Asian before. At that time, you never saw foreigners in Elgin. She was much shorter than I had expected — almost childlike in her proportions. Her white alabaster skin seemed to glow beneath the deep cowl of her strange hooded gown and her single-lid eyes were like small slits with irises as dark as hematite.
Father introduced her as our new governess.

“This is Lewis, my son. And Louise, my daughter.”

I sensed there was more to this than met the eye. My sister was oblivious to everything and my mother by this time mostly comatose. There was nothing particular about the situation, but I sensed a carnal connection between her and my disaffected father. Even as my chaste mother lay dying, I felt she was being pushed aside for reasons unbeknown to us.

The next day after his return, a delivery truck brought a heavy crate of new reference books from Thelema. They were supposedly gifts from my father’s business acquaintance, Mr. Cowley. The deliverymen grunted with effort at their weight as they brought them upstairs and deposited them into my father’s private library that he kept under lock and key. Curious I could not help but notice them. Books with strange titles and even stranger vocabulary; like Baphomet, Thelemic Mysticism, Hermit Triad, Gnostic Mass, Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, Ordo Templi Orientis.

What was a Baphomet? What was the Book of Lies? What was the Ordo Templi Orientis? What was the Hymn to Pan? What was sadomasochism? Who was Mr. Crowley? When my father noticed my interest he pulled me aside.

“Lewis. These books are not for the likes of children. You are not allowed in my library. It’s out of bounds. You are never to touch them. Understand?”

I understood.


My dearest mother was buried. It was a cold March day. The sky was overcast and it rained lightly. My cheeks chilled with my tears as I watched them lowering her coffin into the dark earth. Her grave stood next to her father and mother in the family plot at the northeastern end of our property.

“And as ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.”

I tried to listen to the words of the priest as he read from the bible, but his words were distracted by the high-pitched screeches of wild starlings.

After her funeral, life in the Strathspey House was never the same. The governess wasted no time in disposing dispassionately of my mother’s personal things. My father made no objections. He even helped. It was as if they were erasing her memory from the household.

Both our chef and groundsman were instantly dismissed after years of loyal service to be replaced with two rather effeminate and emaciated-looking Orientals. They were twin brothers known only as Cheng and Chong. Both were quite short, they looked around only fourteen or maybe fifteen. They could have been much older, but with these Orientals, it was really hard to tell. From what I remember, most of the time, after their services were no longer required, Cheng and Chong retired to the outhouse across the other side of the courtyard. We never saw them much.

Spring was now upon us and our mother would usually allow us to go and play on the grounds after returning for school. I loved the outdoor life. It was still fresh with cool breezes, but the days were getting longer. The fir forest that lay all around us had been our summer playground. But now the governess did not like this — she wanted us in sight at all times. So we moped about and reluctantly stayed inside. Luckily the old house had many places for us to play. Louise and I loved to play hide and seek. We both had our own favorite places to hang out. My sister’s was filled with hand-painted dolls in tartan dresses. Mine with a battalion of tiny tin soldiers.

I was so curious about my father’s library filled with the smell of old leather volumes and though he kept it locked at all times, I knew the way to get it. There were many secret passages that lay within the century-old panel-wood walls of this house. We had discovered these years previous and had often used them to avoid our household chores.

The governess and her two oriental servants, of course, never knew they existed and from within these narrow passages behind the bookshelves and cabinetwork, small peepholes enabled me to see where they were but allowed us both to remain hidden without detection.

When my father was away I took the opportunity to explore and find out what all the trouble was about. Why so secret? I carefully retrieved a few of these new reference books and brought them to my secret hiding place to read. I made sure that my sister was otherwise occupied so that she would not inadvertently give away to my father that I had been in his precious library.

Once alone I discovered these books contained many strange new things that challenged whatever remnants of my mother’s teachings were left inside me. If my mother’s spirit were watching over me, she would have not approved; neither would Jesus and God Almighty. I figured that what I was doing would send me straight to hell. My father’s books had a sinister feeling about them. They even smelt of evil and my boy cock became instantly hard.

Browsing the content of these vile publications, I found with unexpected delight that they described explicitly bizarre sexual rituals of blood, urine, semen, and even feces; of sex magick created through mastery of masturbatory techniques and anal sex; of human sacrifices offered in the dark worship of sex demons; in lewd celebration of the devil himself.

There I found an illustration of the Baphomet – a demon with the face of a goat, the breast of a woman, and a large erect penis encircled by twin serpents. Most interestingly these books were filled from cover to cover with vulgar drawings depicting same-sex couplings that rivaled the shameful things I saw in my own depraved dreams. In fact, after being exposed to these books, they seemed to fuel my dreams to an even deeper level of debauchery. How I wanted to worship before the Baphomet.


About this time, the governess had taken to frequently punishing my eleven-year-old sister and I. Punishment was not something we were used to. Even though our father had been hard on us, early bed or the confiscation of favorite toys was about as far as it went.

Punishment by the governess had become both painful and humiliating. In my father’s absence, she would force us to drink copious amounts of water and then make us stand in only our white cotton underwear. Forbidden to relieve ourselves, we began to dance in agony trying desperately not to wet ourselves as she watched over us with an enigmatic grin. My bladder would ache painfully and often the punishment would end with either one or both of us pissing our pale yellow urine through the thin fabric of our undergarments.

It was during one of these nights that I made an unexpected discovery. One of the peepholes enabled me to see right into the governess’s private bathroom. It happened upon a night when she had been particularly cruel to the both of us and we had ended up peeing ourselves. After a scolding and beating us both for the inevitable wetting, she had ordered us to remove the saturated underwear and go straight to bed naked without washing ourselves.

I hugged Louise and told her not to cry for fear of further punishment and then we went to our separate bedrooms. Once inside the sanctuary of my bedroom, I pushed a chair up against the door handle and then slipped into the hidden passageway located at the back of my wardrobe. Inside it was pit black, but even in the darkness I knew the route by memory.

Making my way to the peephole I saw our governess enter her private bathroom and lock the door behind her. In her hands, she carried our soiled undergarments. I remember thinking that it was strange but imagined at the time that maybe it was her intention to rinse them out in the bathroom sink.

But she did not.

Instead, she unbuttoned her frock discarded it on the bathroom floor, and stood in just her translucent pantaloons. As she turned, I saw for the first time, the creamy white flesh of her upper torso. She had small cone-shaped breasts crowned with dark bullet-like nipples.

Her appearance must have had an effect on my preteen libido as my little prick became instantly hard at the sight of my half-naked governess. What happened next both surprised and aroused me as she brought my filthy urine-soaked underwear up to her face. Her other hand slipped beneath the hemline of her pantaloons as she seemed to draw in the aromas of the piss-wet material — more than just smell them, but to breathe in the dank urea smells with a low groan.

She seemed to enjoy this. From the peephole it was obvious that she was now sucking on the dampness, drawing the fresh urine trapped in the wet fabric into her mouth and at the same time, her fingers moving inside her own pants. Next, she began to rub our pee-drenched underwear over her breasts, wetting her upper torso and then squeezing the remainder of the fluids into her open mouth.

It was disgusting yet sensual. I almost gave myself away, covering my mouth to keep from any sound escaping. I kept asking myself why would she do this sort of dirty thing. But even more weird, was why did I find this aberrant sight so compelling and exciting?

“For I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge and Delight and bright glory …”

Chanted our governess under her heavy breathing as she slipped her underway off completely. Up to that point, I had only ever seen my own sister naked at bath times and more lately after our mutual pissing punishments. Of course, I had wondered what a woman would look like naked — but the governess was definitely not a woman.

Between her thin chalky white legs, rose up a large cherry red cock, pulsating and hard – its loose foreskin was drawn all the way back down its veined length to reveal its angry purple head. The mushroom-shaped tip was wet with pearls of precum. Her hand began gliding firmly up and down her erection, stroking faster and faster as she drank our urine.

I was quaking at this point — shocked mentally and physically shaking all over. My hand seemed to move with a mind of its own as my fingers clasped my cock and rubbed the foreskin back and forth matching the masturbatory movements of the governess. The pleasure was intense as I watched her reach orgasm, spraying herself with thick globs of semen. At this point, I stopped and quietly crept back to the bedroom.

Naked and smelling of urine, I climbed into the cool bedclothes and immediately resumed playing with myself. I fantasized about what I had read and the images in my father’s book. I could no longer pretend not to be aroused by what I saw in my nightmares — no longer afraid of them — I wanted to dance naked before the Baphomet together with the sex demons; to eagerly participate in the rape of other non-consenting Christian boys bound by their arms and legs before my phallic demon god.

I wanted to worship my governess; to kiss her mouth that would taste of our urine. I desperately wanted to suck her angry-looking cock; lap up her thick white semen, and bend over before an effigy of the Baphomet and be sodomized by her. She was no longer a governess to me; in my fantasy, she was the devil incarnate.


I knew it would be a month before my father would return and the pattern of abuse from our governess would mean that both my sister and I would be punished almost every night until his return. This night, as she forced us to drink and then to stand in just our underwear, I hoped to catch a glimpse of her performing her nasty little private ritual in her bathroom.

But as I stood and the sensation of my full bladder pressed against the hemline of my underwear, my cock began to fill with blood. As much as I tried not to think about the delicious details of the night before, soon I was sporting a full erection in front of the Oriental.

My state of excitement did not go unnoticed by her evil eyes as she told my sister that she was allowed to relieve herself in her pants, strip out of them, and then go straight to bed. Louise looked at me, unsure of what was going on, but did as she was told. Her pee stream quickly soaked through her pants and ran down the insides of her legs pooling at her bare feet. She cried as she stripped out of the wet fabric and handed it obediently to the governess.

“You go bed. No wash. Now!” the governess barked at her.

She quickly ran upstairs to the relative safety of her bedroom. I dared not look at her as the governess grinned sardonically at me. I heard my sister’s footsteps going up the stairs and then heard the door close.

The governess stepped up to me and ran her fingers across my tented pants. My urine flowed quickly into the absorbent fabric making it translucent. More urine ran forth over her fingers as she gripped my erect cock through the loose wet material.

“You very naughty boy. Nasty boy. Vulgar little pervert boy.”

She glared at me and pulled the piss-wet material down exposing my stiff little cock.

“You like? You like our pee-pee game? Don’t you? Dirty little fucka’.”

Her broken English sounded choleric.

I managed to nod obediently. She licked her lips and chanted in a strange language as she slowly stroked my aching cock. Nobody had ever touched me this way. I shook with anticipation.

“Mmmmmmmmmm,” I moaned in appreciation of the pleasure.

That night, I also had not counted on Cheng and Chong turning up and interrupting the governess’s abusive game. I still stood naked and fully erect in front of the governess. The twins stopped in the doorway, seemingly unsure whether to enter or retreat.

The governess gruffly spoke to them in her dialect and they entered, secured the door, and quickly stripped from their clothing. By now I was really scared but still very excited. Like the governess, they were both pasty white and neither looked like they had been fed for months.

Though their bodies were bony and completely hairless, their fleshy penises stood out from their groin, straight and hard – both were more than twice my size and girth. They grinned and began rubbing themselves.

The governess stood behind me, still fondling my cock and balls as the twin brothers embraced each other’s nakedness, roughly tongue kissing and urgently pressing their swords together. My heart raced in my chest.

“You like what you see? You dirty little fucka’.”

Of course, I did. I wanted these Oriental demons to fuck me. Fuck my mouth. Fuck me hard in my bottom. She pressed herself against my backside. I felt her hard bulge as she teasingly sucked at my earlobe and firmly gripped my cock. She rubbed the foreskin back and forth, faster and faster.

“You watch fucka. You watch my boys. Incest is the way to the Devil’s playground!”

I let out an unconscious groan that seemed to come from an eternity of wantonness. I could not have looked away even if my life depended upon it. One of the naked twins sat on the edge of the Chas lounge as his brother straddled his legs facing the both of us. Positioning himself over his brother’s cock, Chong began to lower himself down, impaling himself on Cheng’s greasy fuck pole.

Slow at first, he moved up and down, gaining momentum until he was bouncing aggressively screaming obscenities, fucking his brother while furiously masturbating himself. As he reached orgasm is semen sprayed upwards like a fountain. I could not believe there was so much semen.

“Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” he cried.

Chong grabbed his brother’s narrow hips, grunted, and thrust upwards to meet his downward motion as he too reached climax inside his twin’s ass.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OHHHHH!” I panted.

It was just too much for me.

“Oh, Miss! Oh, Miss!”

I suddenly bucked uncontrollably against the governess’s hand and spurt my little boy cum over her hands. She laughed out loud, telling the twin boys that enough was enough. They complied immediately with the governess’s orders and left without another word.

“You clean fingers!” she said as she presented the hand that had used to make me cum.

I licked the salty fluids from her hand.

“You bad boy. Nasty. You need punish tomorrow. You dirty little fucka. No excuses for your behavior. Your father disappointed with dirty fucka son. You in lot of trouble.”

I was not sure what to think. I certainly did not want my father to know and I would take any punishment necessary to secure her silence.

“Please, Miss. Don’t tell my father! Please anything. Anything Miss!”

Even knowing her dark secrets, and what I had just witnessed, it seemed to me that knowing this could offer me no leverage in the situation. I was totally confused.

“You go bed now. I will decide what to do with you in morning.”

I went to bed but could not sleep. Though it had been singularly the most erotic experience of my little life, the prospect of my father finding out about made me regretful and morbidly afraid … and I think the governess knew it too. So, I lay awake touching myself. I could smell the urine on my body. It was then that the association between the two, sex and urine, become strongly routed.

I pressed down on my bladder and peed over my stomach. Rubbing the fresh urine into my skin I imagined the demons dancing as they peed over all the little boys. We eagerly drank the devil’s urine from the chalice intended for sacramental wine. The smell of my own urine was driving me lust crazy. My mind overflowed with guilt and shame, but that did not stop me from emptying my little balls over and over as I recalled the events of the past few days.


I awake in the middle of the night to find my little sister huddled up against my bed tucked against me. I touched her face and felt the wetness of her recent tears. She must have cried herself to sleep. We were both still naked and stinking of our stale urine. I knew it was wrong but with the feeling of her warm flesh against mine, it made my cock instantly hard.

I thought of the twin brothers rubbing their cocks eagerly against each other and the words of the governess, something about ‘Incest is the way to the Devil’s playground!’ The words made me want to pump my cock hard. Incest! Yes, fucking my little virgin sister would be a crime against God Almighty. It would be like saying ‘Fuck you, God, I worship the Devil now!’

She stirred in her restless sleep as my hips bucked unconsciously against her backside. My cock had the stickiness of dried urine mixed with my preteen juices. The sensation of her soft untouched body was driving me crazy with incestuous lust.

It felt mischievous.

It felt erroneous.

My fingertips trailed across her puffy little nipples as I thought of the governess. I could feel my mother turning in her grave. But still, I lowered my mouth over her nipple and sucked it gently between my lips, as I must have once done as a baby upon my mother. I kissed my way across her stomach, over her navel, and down to her hairless groin. Her body seemed to react to my tender kissing and her legs opened wider to give me full access to her baby cunt.


She groaned under her breath as my mouth made contact with the lips of her tiny vagina. My tongue flicked out along her tight labia, separating them as it pushed inside. My fingers pried open her baby cunt lips as my tongue pressed further inside and found her tiny little bump — I sucked it like a tiny cock.


Her hips lifted from the bed sheets pushing upwards against my open mouth. Her body first went stiff and then shuddered all over. Her eyes opened as she looked at me coyly. She was panting and I could see her nervous excitement as I took her hand and rested it upon my hard prick. I encouraged her to wrap her small fingers around my shaft and slowly stroking me. My lips brushed against her earlobe as I told her that it felt so good.

Just as she was getting into a nice rhythm my bedroom opened. We were both shocked as the governess entered my room. My face must have turned bright red, as I felt an incredible flushing of embarrassment overcome me. My little sister wriggled around trying to cover herself from the governesses accusing eyes.

“What is going on here?”

“Please, Miss!” I pleaded hopelessly.

She stepped up to the edge of my bed and looked down upon the both of us, now huddled together.

“I-n-c-e-s-t … ” she said slowly and deliberately, as reading out loud our sins before

Almighty God.

“Incest is the way to the Devil’s playground!”

She grabbed both of us by our ears, dragged us from the bedding, and forced us to our knees before her.

“Please, Miss. Nothing happened!”


“We were only playing. You know, just fooling around Miss.”

“Fooling? The only ‘fooling’ is in the lies you are telling me! I came to tell you that I had decided against telling your father about what happened last night. Even though you were a filthy fucka. Maybe I need to reconsider my decision?”

“Please, Miss. Don’t say anything to our father. I’ll do anything! Please, Miss.”

By this time, she had reduced us to both sobbing with our faces buried in our hands. Looking through my fingers I saw her lift my baby sister to her feet.

“You,” she pointed to my sister, “Go to your bedroom.”

Now she was pointing at me.

“Tomorrow you go to the outhouse. You do chores with the twins. You work hard. Maybe I forget to tell your father.”

“Thanks, Miss,” answered my sister with a squeaky voice.

“Thanks, Miss,” I added.

Louise and I exchanged a long look. We would take up where we left off later –tomorrow when the governess or otherwise occupied.


It was the early afternoon when the governess sent me to the outhouse cellar. I hung my head and made my way slowly across to the outhouse buildings to do whatever chores the governess had lined up for me to do. I hated chores of any description — but I was thankful that my father would not find out about my behavior.

I kind of expected the outhouse to be a hive of activity with the two brothers doing hard manual labor to appease their wicked governess. Our collective suffering and humiliation seemed to bring her great pleasure. I must admit, more than a few times, the image of their hard cocks punctuated my thoughts.

I tried to think about my redemption –—my father must never know of my lewd deeds. I knocked on the outhouse door, but there was no answer. I opened the door gently and stepped inside. I had not been inside the old outhouse since being told to stay indoors.

Previously, the old outhouse cellar had been a great place to play. I carefully walked down the steep staircase into the familiar dank smell and silent darkness. At the base of the stairs, it felt uncomfortably warm from the summer heat and lack of ventilation. The cellar looked very different from the last time I played there.

The grotto-style basement was usually filled with dusty heirlooms in wooden crates and battered cardboard boxes stacked up high on top of each other. Now it was unexpectedly tidy and clear. Its usual gloominess was replaced with the flickering light of a thousand candles.

As my eyes became more adapted to the lower light conditions, I could see that close to the rear wall of the storeroom, there stood a strange statue. I crept closer and could make out that it was in fact a large wooden idol – the erotic depiction of a naked demon god.

It seemed to fill the place with both dread and sexuality. With both the breasts of a woman and a large erect penis, not so dissimilar to images that I had encountered in my father’s strange publications of the Ordo Templi Orientis — it strongly reminded me of the nature of the governess herself.

The walls of the grotto were covered with long hangings — strangely illustrated tapestries were covered with strange words, serpents, spiders, hieroglyphics, and occult symbols. They depicted depraved sexual activities, orgies, and human sacrifices to their Gnostic god. I felt a rush of lusty excitement and my cock and balls ached to be touched as they strained against the inside of my pants.

One showed a picture of a naked ethnic-looking woman with black bat-like wings. Her legs were spread wide open to receive a disembodied black phallus that pointed upwards towards her open vagina. The next showed the back of a naked female straddling the goat-headed Baphomet seated upon a throne of human bones, its cock clearly buried deep up her rectum. Another showed a priest in a long open gown, eye holes slit into his extremely pointed hat; others similarly dressed, gathered around him, stood masturbating as he took a curved knife to the erect genitals of a naked bound boy.

Before the idol lay what must be a low flat altar bed. Towards the center of the room was suspended a heavy I-beam. It had a kind of pulley system, affixed with manacles to hold a person’s hands; and on the floor, there was a matching set of manacles for a person’s feet.

I was just wondering what would be done to someone stretched out between the floor and the heavy I-beam when I heard a noise from the staircase. Startled, I hid behind the large wooden statue and waited as quietly as I could. From the stairwell, I heard the foreign accents of the twins. There was a third person with them – a young boy about my age. All three were completely naked. The boy was flaccid but the twins were both fully erect. I wanted desperately to suck their delicious hard cocks.

“Please let me go. Please let me go. Won’t tell anyone. Promise to God,” the boy cried.

The twins only just laughed and continued on dragging him forward before their looming ugly idol. I could not help but start stroking myself through the thin fabric of my pants as I watched with keen interest as Cheng and Chong first restrained his hands above his head and then restrained his feet to the cement floor. He was then stretched onto his tiptoes, as one of the brothers pulled the rusted chains to lift the I-beam even higher.

“Please mister, NOT AGAIN … please let me go. God’s honor, won’t say nothing!”

The boy continued to sob. His fear was palpable and it became obvious to me that this was not the first time he had suffered abuse at the hands of the Orientals.

“Quiet fucka or I cut your throat!” Spat Chong as both knelt.

The naked twins lowered their heads in mystic prayer in front of their phallic god. Chong took the empty chalice from the altar and urinated into it — once it was half full he stopped and handed it to his brother, Cheng, who took off where his brother had stopped and filled the chalice to the brim.

It was as if they were asking permission from the idol to perform whatever it was they were about to do. I watched excitedly as they both ritualistically masturbated themselves drawing their loose foreskins slowly back and forth.

Footsteps in the stairwell alerted me to the fact that someone else was joining the twins in their obscene ritual. I immediately recognized the governess’s gruff voice before I saw her and my sister enter.

“Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire! For I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge and Delight and bright glory.”

The transgendered Oriental was dressed in a veil of velvet-red with nothing else on except a strange phallic necklace that hung between her breasts. My eyes focused on her penis which stood upright against her flat stomach. Behind her she pulled my naked sister, obediently following her but held by a studded dog collar and leash. My heart beat so loud I thought they would hear it and catch me out.

The twins turned to look upon the governess but remained in kneeling prayer.

“Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awake the lust and worship of the Snake …” chanted the Oriental as she lifted the brimmed chalice of urine from the altar, “For I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge and Delight and bright glory; to worship me take wine …”

I saw my sister kneel with them, their three faces all looked upwards towards the governess who first anointed them with the contents of the chalice and then drank from it. She added something powdered to the contents of the chalice and stirred it by swirling the chalice in her hand.

Witchcraft, I thought. First, she offered it to my sister, who sipped it and passed it back. The governess then shared it with the twins.

“Another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globèd priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another god shall reign. I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge and Delight and bright glory …” she repeated as first each of the twins took her cock into their willing mouths and lastly my own sister.

Her small hands wrapped around the Oriental’s shaft as she sucked with surprising gusto upon the angry purple head.

“The exposure of innocence is a lie. Be strong, o man! Lust, enjoy all things of sense and rapture: fear not that any god shall deny thee for this …”

The governess waved her hands and the two twins stood up. They helped my little sister to her feet and then moved to stand on either side of the sobbing boy. From where I hid, I noticed their almost manic look in their eyes — as if drunk or maybe insane with lustiness.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore. Please let me go! LET ME GO!”

The boy was twisting and turning against his metallic bindings, which gave him no place to hide. He panted in exhausted dread for what was about to happen. This inspired my hand, gripped tightly around my root, thrusting up and down in anticipation of his foreseen rape.

I looked at it in amazement as my sister stepped forward before the young boy and began to kiss his limp penis, taking it into her small mouth, and fervidly licking and sucking upon it. The twins seemed to be encouraging her in this activity, whilst the governess moved behind the bound child.

She pressed her rigid member down and slipped it between his spread legs so that her cock shaft slid up against the underside of his scrotum and perineum. Now, my sister kissed, licked, and sucked upon their genitals as they pressed closely together, the governess’s being hard and long and the boy’s still small and flaccid.

“… Then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven … This shall regenerate the world, the little world my sister, my heart and my tongue, unto whom I send this kiss. Also, o scribe and prophet, though thou be of the princes, it shall not assuage thee nor absolve thee. But ecstasy be thine and joy of earth: ever To me! To me!” chanted the governess.

Maybe I too was bewitched, but my hand seemed to be working its own sexual magick upon my eager cock that dripped with a constant stream of precum. I wondered for a moment, what my holy mother would have said and how my evil father would have reacted witnessing my sister’s small hands slid down the underside of the governess’s cock, rubbing it ardently and then slowly guiding it up against the boy’s narrow rectum.

Cheng looked on aggressively as his brother, Chong, roughly kissed the boy’s mouth and twisted his nipples. The child bucked desperately against his restraints as he tried desperately to escape the impossible heavy chains.

The boy was going nowhere.

By now the boy was screaming hysterically as the Oriental pushed the first couple of inches of her cock into his tight ass. Surprisingly, I felt no compassion. I felt no pity … only an evil eagerness to witness his piquant molestation by the devil Oriental.

To be continued …


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