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

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Incest, WS, Scat, Cohesion, Corruption, Young, NC, Rape, Bondage, Blasphemy, Sadism, Snuff, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, Evil themes

CREATED: 22.05.2014 / REVISITED: 14.09.2023

Priestess 3


The High Priestess is a very spiritual card – often with highly perverted sexual overtones. It can mean that the querent is in a phase where he or she is going to be much more physically attractive to others, open to encounters both heterosexual and homosexual. The High Priestess is tied to the Moon, to femininity, to wantonness, and to the inspiration of new sexual experimentation. Give into the High Priestess in you; let her rule your day and you will find that your narrow and limited viewpoint on sexuality can expand beyond your current desires. What do you want from your sexuality? What have you been missing out or denying yourself? Are you truly who you think you are, or is there a secret pervert longing for the freedom to explore your deepest deviance? The High Priestess is a psycho-sexual religious figure. On one hand, there is divine piousness and abstinence; on the other, there is devilment and sexual obsession … which force rules you?


They say that evil has no substance of its own, but is only the defect, excess, perversion, or corruption of that which has substance. But that is ignorance. Evil has form. Pure evil exists.

The once glorious City of Malum had plummeted into a vessel of extreme inequalities. At one end, violent crime was riff and life was cheap among the cesspool of decay, disparity, and human depravity; at the other, the wealthy, privileged, and religious, lived a life of opulence, over-indulgence, and excess.

Reverend Angela Greenway was one of the religious elite and yet a very popular preacher among the poorer city folks. Her TV gospel, ‘God Talk’, was broadcast over the Internet on a daily basis. The crown jewel of her private empire, the Cathedral of Hope, the home of the Holy Justice Ministry, was a Gothic monstrosity located at the main intersections of the city’s highways.

It appears that the Reverend Angela, by the grace of God, has saved a young woman from a fate worse than death by pulling her soul back from the brink and in the process transformed a satanic priestess into another warrior of the faithful and Holy Justice.

Born into the satanic church, the girl only known to us as Rebecca had had a lifetime of indoctrination in satanic beliefs. Had she completely relinquished the dark powers that she was purported to have? Could she really have moved objects without touching them and moved people against their will?

A suspicious mind may presume the worst that in fact, maybe nobody has been saved at all. Could it be that Reverend Angela, her Ministry, and those they seek to influence for God’s crusade against Satan are the ones in grave danger from this unassuming young woman?


“Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh.” — Philippians, chapter 3, verse 2 — “For God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous. [Hebrews 13:4] And every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you heard was coming and now is in the world already.” — 1 John, chapter 4, verse 3

My seduction of the gullible Brother Peter was to change many things almost immediately. After that night upon the unholy pulpit, when I brought the pious Brother Peter to experience the bliss of his first satanic orgasm, he was no longer the same. He was to become my sexual puppet. And my unsavory agenda would move from the shadowy fringe to the central attraction.

Soon the preaching style of those dressed in red would no longer condemn sinful behaviors. It began to be much more compassionate for those who had transgressed … it would offer reconciliation and forgiveness … then slowly but surely it began to encourage it … even praise it … and ultimately demand greater and greater sinfulness from its congregations!

I saw the opportunity to turn our midnight prayers to the atonement of sin, from the somber Sacrament of Penance to full-on perverted orgies where clergy and parishioners alike performed carnal acts to summon the sex demons … offerings of menstrual blood, piss, feces, and semen – all given willingly in the satanic celebration! But that was not to be and the ecstasy of sin was not to last for long, as Brother Peter and I were summoned back to the Grand Cathedral … the crown jewel of the Reverend Angela Greenway’s private empire, the Grand Cathedral of Hope, the home of Holy Justice Ministry.

Brother Peter and I were picked up in one of the Ministry’s shiny black limousines that whisked us up, speeding through putrid human garbage, derelict buildings, and the littered streets of Malum Central towards the Ministry’s Gothic monstrosity that dwarfed the squalid city towers that branched outwards from it at the city’s core. Brother Peter was white as a ghost. He feared that knowledge of our digressions had somehow got back to his beloved Reverend. I was worried about what awaited us ahead too.

My memories of being brought there were vague at best, for my so-called transformation; I could only remember small fragments. Nothing actually made any sense. It was then that I realized the majority of what I knew was made up of a composite of what I had been told that happened. None of which I could remember firsthand. Now in close proximity, seeing it again in all its outrageous opulence, it seemed in sharp contrast, even contradiction, to the philosophy of the so-called Holy Justice Ministry. Everything about this Gothic palace screamed of unbridled lavishness, a magnificent sham dedicated to the sumptuousness of counterfeit worship.

The slick vehicle turned sharply. It descended down the steep ramp as it pulled into the dark underground car park. Heavy doors closed behind us, more like a fortress than a religious sanctuary.

The limousine door opened. We found ourselves in the basement of the Grand Cathedral itself. The beaming face of Judith Marsh, the host of ‘God Talk’, greeted Brother Peter and me. Her expression gave no indication of negative news. I heard Brother Peter give an audible sigh of relief. Judith was dressed as we both were. She smiled with extremely high cheekbones as if making a guest appearance on a television talk show. Standing with her was the young Ruth, also dressed in her tunicle, though it was obvious that she was very pregnant.

“Welcome Brother Peter. Welcome Sister Rebecca. We have been expecting you … The Reverend is in the Grand Cathedral, leading some of our most giving and influential benefactors, in prayer. You probably can hear the cathedral choir above us now.”

Indeed we could. The songs of praise, sung in eloquent Latin, filled the heavens above us. I glanced around at all the luxurious cars parked filled with exotic cars and limos … most likely the property of the wealthy Benefactors.

“And Sister Ruth … of course you know Sister Ruth.”

Sister Ruth gave me a meek look and a thin smile. She would remember her pact with Satan as I stroked her stomach through her tunicle.

“Congratulations Sister Ruth.”

“Thank you, Sister Rebecca. I am forever grateful and indebted to you for your council,” she answered with a quivering voice.

I could feel the fear for her unborn one … hoping that maybe Satan would not extract his price.

“A small celebration is in order for your triumphant return to the City of Malum – The Reverend has been looking forward to welcoming you back. In the meanwhile may I offer you some refreshment … while we await the end of the service?”

“Thank you, Sister Judith,” answered Brother Peter.

“Oh please … just Judith will be fine.”

“Thank you, Judith,” he responded.

Just at that moment, the screech of turning tires against polished concrete caught our attention, as a second limousine pulled up alongside us. I watched with interest, as four tall gaunt figures of African descent, emerged dressed in similar Ministry tunicals. Two females and two males; all were as black as the ace of spades. The color of their skin made it almost impossible to see them in the dimly lit basement, except for the whites of their eyes and bright teeth.

One of the females of the group who looked as if she was in charge, a skeletal-looking woman in her late thirties, looked directly at me. She gave me an almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgment. As she passed us, I thought I heard her voice in my head … “Welcome Sister… tonight we will be together … Ave Satanus,’ … I nodded back in silent recognition unsure of whether I was imagining it all … like being between awake and asleep.

“From our Lomé Ministry in Togo. Their leader is Marinette, a recent convert from the rather sinister Petro Loa Vodou cult, famed for its wild orgies, human sacrifices, cannibalism, and black magic … some say she was once a Sorcière or Bokor … a sorceress priestess … not so, dissimilar to yourself really.”

“Oh … how interesting.”

A recent convert I thought to myself. I now wondered how successful they had been in the process of her transformation. From my most recent memory, conversion seemed temporal at best. Judith seemed blissful in her ignorance. Who was I to say anything otherwise?

Judith Marsh and Sister Ruth led us through towards the same large wooden door that the others had passed through minutes before. It opened automatically and closed again behind us once we were beyond the threshold of the underground car park and into the bowels of the Grand Cathedral of Hope.

“Sister Ruth, why don’t you take Brother Peter to the refectory and the both of you prepare for tonight’s fundraiser,” said Judith.

Brother Peter looked at me … as if seeking my permission. Sister Ruth looked relieved to escape my presence. I waved my hand to Brother Peter and the pair disappeared off to the left-hand side, while Judith placed her hand upon the small of my back and steered me in the opposite direction.

“Do you know why you are here, Rebecca?” asked Judith as soon as Brother Peter and Sister Ruth were out of sight.

“Actually I don’t,” I replied.

“You trust in the foresight of our great leader right?” asked Judith.

“But of course,” I answered.

My heart beat hard in my chest. I pretended to be all trusting, but not give any signs of foreknowledge. In my mind, I could see Judith’s thoughts crystallizing. The word ‘Truth’ entered my mind and then I saw a great hall filled with strange, obscene, and blasphemous things. I saw naked people caught in a frenzy dance ritual. I saw a sacrifice must be made.

“The Reverend is very fond of you Rebecca. She says that she has big plans. She sees you as instrumental in them. She admires your talents and has hopes for your fellowship in her new strategy.”

“She does?”

“Oh yes my dear. She said to me that she feels kindred with your struggle with the truth,” Judith took my hands in hers.

Her long bony fingers felt cold as ice.

“Come, you must have an audience with her before tonight’s fundraiser, but first, she asked me to bring you to view the Hall of Truth.”

“What’s the Hall of Truth?”

“Well, it’s hard to describe – one has to see it for yourself, to understand it.”

Judith smiled with thin lips and turned towards another large door that similarly opened by itself and then closed behind us.

Looking around, I found myself inside the place that I had seen in Judith’s thoughts – it was covered with all manner of strange sexualized paintings and phallic artifacts. Objects of demonic worship from around the world … it was a treasure trove of evil things.

My attention was caught by the strongly religiously themed oil paintings that looked sinister and foreboding; some depicted hell as a furnace of naked sinners, perpetually tormented by evil sex demons. Hell was depicted as a place of torture, murder, mutilation, branding, and crucifixion. Some paintings showed various combinations of sexualized and lethal violence – all displaying the potency of dehumanization and dominance, served up with ritual castrations combined with naked lynching. These gory visions excited me as my expectations changed with every passing moment.

“This is the Ministry’s collection of ‘forbidden’ exhibits? Most have been confiscated, stolen, or discretely purchased through various channels. Brought here to protect the world from these evil things!” stated Judith.

The place sent spasms through my dampening cunt.

“Forbidden?” I asked pretending to be naive to the contents of the hall.

“Well my dear, over time, the Reverend has amassed many occult objects and controversial art pieces gathered from the four corners of the world … to protect the public of course. However, she calls this place the ‘Hall of Truth’ as it pictorializes the extent of our collective sins… the truth about our wayward nature … that despite everything good that we do, people are still inherently sinful to the bone.”

There were many objects, relics; reference books… lots and lots of occult literature. It sparked a memory from my previous life as I remembered one of the secret ceremonies to invoke the dark spirits that come from the so-called ‘The Book of Beasts’. It is an ancient ritual to summon demons.

I remembered that the ceremony began with reading the Tetragrammaton Elohim; the Creature of Judgment was to be invoked, as well as the nine mystic names of the dead. An unbaptized child that had been kidnapped from Christian parents, was placed in the middle of the inverted pentagram, upon a live altar consisting of a naked woman and a naked man were used. A magic square called Satar formula was then carved onto the child with a rooster claw.

The child was made to turn to the four directions and then turned face down toward the east. The child was stripped in front of the cult and was then forced to curse and blaspheme God Almighty. Then its mouth is gagged with a purple cloth soaked in its own urine. The flesh was cut from the child, mixed with black millet, and given in prayers to Satan. Prayers in Enochian were said. Incense was lit. The child was then sacrificed to Satan, using the ritual athame, while the Priestess condemned the child’s soul to hell eternal. This triggered the commencement of an all-night orgy.

My attention flicked back to Judith and then again to the contents of the ‘Hall of Truth’.

“I know what you mean,” I replied.

As looked around I began to appreciate the extent of the Ministries intervention. Some items date back to Renaissance times. My eye rested upon an enormous painting – it was Michelangelo’s Crucifixion and Last Judgment of Jesus Christ, where the Nazarene was depicted without any loincloth, completely naked with an undeniable erection. On close inspection, I noticed that in fact all figures in the painting, including the two crucified thieves, the soldiers, and the onlookers are all depicted naked and the males erect; the onlookers even appeared to be masturbating as they prepared to sacrifice the Nazarene.

“Yes it’s so shameful!” added Judith.

“I understand,” I simply answered.

“What is it that you understand Sister Rebecca?”

“I understand why you must keep these away for the populace – to prevent the pollution of humanity, by means of these obscenities.”

“You do understand … indeed you do.”

Just as she spoke, four young males dressed in white tunicals appeared with trolleys and other equipment. The white signified their junior positions.

“Sister Judith, excuse the interruption. We must move the Vodou exhibit upstairs for tonight’s fundraiser. The Reverend has specially invited Marinette from Lomé to preside over a special re-creation of one of their local Petro Iwa ritual for the benefit of enlightenment of her honored Beneficiaries.

“Please, go ahead, we are finished here. I am sure the Sister wants some quiet prayer time… before joining us at the fundraiser?”

“Yes thank you, Judith.”

I eyed the Petro Iwa exhibit that they were starting to disassemble. I had a little understanding of the nature of Vodou from my days within the satanic order. I knew that Vodou was divided … the majority of Vodou was called Rada and involved the interaction with benevolent spirits –it was about balance and appeasing them with simple animal offerings. However Vodou had another side, be it the minority and that was called Petro… it was much more extreme and involved the worship of more malevolent spirits… or sex demons.

The sorceress called upon these wicked spirits to possess the living to perform evil deeds for them. The exhibit consisted of two huge phallic poles or ‘Potomitans’ that would have been at the center point of the Vodou temple. There was also a large statue of the horned Kalfu seated upon a throne with his erect penis extending upwards in his lap and other vulgar and sexualized Vodou paraphernalia mostly made of wood and animal bones.

“So the Reverend summoned me back for what purpose?” I asked after a long pause of silence.

“Well, the Reverend is a leader of great vision – she believes that your abilities are of better use here at Malum Central … here in the Grand Cathedral. She has summoned a number of her Sisters … like Sister Marinette … and Sister Beverley and Sister Augustine. She would like you to attend tonight’s fundraiser, as a guest of honor among her Beneficiaries … she said that afterward, you would fully understand.”

“I see. Well, she is our leader, so I best assist in any way I can.”

“Excellent, I will inform the Reverend.”

Judith hurried me toward the doorway; obviously, I was not being left alone in the ‘Hall of Truth’.



“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. [Ephesians 6:12] Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones. Furthermore, just as they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, so God gave them over to a depraved mind so that they do what ought not to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed, and depravity.” — Romans, chapter 1 verses 26-29

Judith opened the door and I entered the Reverend Angela’s private rooms from the small antechamber. At first glance, the Reverend’s room looked formal and functional with a large mahogany desk, that lay in front of a series of paneled stained glass windows, each depicting the various scenes from the bible.

Bookshelves lined one of the walls; all filled with aged leather volumes and faded gold stamping. In the center of the office were two low leather couches that faced each other, separated by a square coffee table, scattered with open reference books and various scrolls and old parchments, obviously intended for a more casual conversation.

Opposite the bookshelf were two large double doors closed, so that whatever was behind them could not be seen. The place smelt of leather and beeswax polish. Above the large fireplace lined with candles burned to various lengths, that faced the desk, was a large wooden cross with the bronzed body of Christ twisted in the agony of crucifixion, completely naked and his erect manhood curving upwards towards his heaving chest.

The Reverend entered and greeted me with open arms. Her embrace was firm and warm. She smiled with a radiance that I had not expected.

“Sister Rebecca, it’s so wonderful to have you back among our fold.”

Judith hovered around us, almost protectively of her Reverend.

“That will be all Sister Judith,” said Reverend Angela.

Judith looked disgruntled at her dismissal, but quickly left the room. As she left, the Reverend beckoned me to sit next to her.

“So you have seen the ‘Hall of Truth’ and tonight you will experience the ‘Theater of Sin’ … I know they sound a little corny … it makes me cringe myself … anyway it’s for the benefit of our followers. They need a little drama if you know what I mean.”

“I can only guess Reverend.”

“It is but another way for us to reflect on what is truly evil in the world – our Benefactors must see the atrocities, must experience them first hand in the most graphic way possible … don’t you think?”

“It sends a powerful message.”

“So it does Sister. And they must come to understand the enormity of the task of the Ministry … to save the world from the evil carnage, one person at a time! It is the Will of God!”


I wanted to ask her about the twisted figure on the crucifix. The naked and aroused Jesus crucified and defined death, even in his arousal. Like Kali Ma dancing upon the prone and erect body of her dead lover, Shiva … these religious themes seemed to be universal, to transcend beliefs and cross cultures.

“Our Benefactors come from far and wide. They represent the elite of our society and their influence is key to the success of the Ministries agenda. Tonight, one of your fellow sisters, Sister Marinette from the Togo Mission, will present her exposé of the evil rituals of Petro Vodou … to show that it is just a thin veneer for the worship of sex demons. Our Benefactors need to know the truth so in turn we gain their continued financial commitment.”

“So how graphic is this demonstration?”

The Reverend coughed into her hand.

“Well … I might say it will be extreme. I mean, sometimes we all have to make sacrifices … for the greater good, right?”

“For the great good?”

“The suffering of a few … for the benefit of all people.”

“So, what part do I play Reverend?” I asked as my eyes looked up at the twisted Jesus wanting to slide his long bronzed cock into my juice slit.

“Tonight, you will observe. Just observe. The severity of the ritual will shock the Benefactors… you, I am sure will be unmoved by the right of your past life … I need the rawness of your experience to capture their interest, focus their attention, and dare I say, exploit this for the greater good of society… so that they may continue their funding and support of the Ministry.”

“So I am to put on a ritual? A satanic ritual?”

“Yes, my dear. Yes! I know it sounds bizarre … but it has been proven to work. We need to present the picture of absolute evil to them, so they will understand what we are up against. They must see the savagery. They must smell the stench of evil. They must taste the blood of the innocents.”

“Isn’t that rather extreme?” I poked her.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I need their support. After Sister Marinette’s little show … we’ll give them a few days … collect some of the much-needed funds … and then we’ll invite them back for more.”

With a quiet knock on the heavy door, Sister Ruth appeared.

“Reverend. The Benefactors await the ritual,” announced Sister Ruth.

“Excellent … please accompany Sister Rebecca. She will find this very interesting.”

“Yes, Reverend.”

Sister Ruth looked scared.


The lights had already dimmed by the time Ruth and I made our way to the couch-like seating close to the front of the circular stage in front of the Petro Iwa exhibit. I noticed how each of the couch-like seats was enclosed from the rear so that each couple in the audience was unable to see anything other than the stage ahead. The air was filled with the smell of strange exotic essences burned and infused with other more secretive ingredients that gave off an aphrodisiac edge – my cunt felt immediately wet and itchy.

The low sound of muttering that had been present among the Benefactors seated around us in the darkness surrounding the stage came to an abrupt stop, at the repeated single beat of the boula, the smallest of the sacred Vodou drums, which seemed to signal that something was about to happen.

Dugh … Dugh … Dugh … Dugh … Dugh …

“Welcome everyone to the Theater of Sin,” announced Judith Marsh with all the slickness of her theatrical and evangelistic tone.

Spontaneous applause followed from the Benefactors … broken only by the beat of the large maman drum and boula.

Dugh. Thump … Dugh. Thump … Dugh. Thump…

“The vices of the world are many. Tonight, we will present a look into the dark and shocking world of Vodou … ladies and gentlemen, we ask you to watch and give generously to the Ministry so that we may arm our brothers and sisters in Togo, to bring an end to this scourge of ungodliness … to bring Him to this untamed land.”

Dugh. Thump … Dugh. Thump …

The two-drum offbeat rhythm of the Petro cult ceremony was joined by the clinking of the ogan, a large flattened bell struck between beats as the tempo began to gather momentum, making the resultant sound more pressing with the increased tribal tension, rage, and violence of the ritual to come.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding …

“This is an old evil preached through sinfulness … like the vulgarity of masturbation dancing … not sate with the simple offering of a chicken as food for the malevolent gods … they offer human sacrifice to their dark Iwa … make no mistake … look upon their gods that demand sexual perversity, rape, and cannibalism … an orgy of evil … look upon their horned Kalfu seated upon a throne … resembling a phallic sex demon! Vodou is NOT a religion, but DEVIL WORSHIP!” scorned Judith with earnest righteousness.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

I pressed myself against Ruth in the darkness, my hands fondling her as she squirmed, as my mind scanned the theater. To my surprise there was nothing pious or devout about the hidden audience seated around me … instead, I sensed a great anticipation of sexual excitement, of an underpinning of wanton wickedness … these were not spiritual Benefactors looking to write cheques for the good of the world, but depraved minds, hungry for the most blasphemous, most perverse, most sickest and most evil.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

The spotlight shifted from the televangelist, Judith, to a small child dressed in a long white dress, bound by the arms and legs, stretched between the two huge phallic ‘Potomitans’. Her head swayed from side to side. She seemed semi-conscious … maybe drugged or in a trance. As the light fell upon her, she moved sharply pulling frantically against her restraints.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

Four Petro dancers entered wearing only short grass skirts – the skeleton dancers, two male, and two female niggers, with their sweaty black skin and painted skull faces that looked ferocious…. They began their dance by circling around the young terrified girl … I recognized one as Marinette, her small fist-sized breasts fully exposed, as they all began to leap up and down and thrust their hips back and forth to the primitive native beat. They screamed at the young girl at the top of their voices … calling to Iwa, their dark fertility spirit, to possess them, so that they may perform the human sacrifice.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

One of the male dancers pulled out a long Dakkari, sacrificial knife, and cut the clothing away from the young girl’s body, leaving her completely naked as she huge between the two cock-shaped poles in front of the excited audience. There was unexpected applause as the young girl screeched in fear, twisting and turning to avoid the unwanted touch of the dancers as they began to openly molest her as they danced around her.

Both of the male dancers flanked her. Their long thin black penises were both now fully erect and clearly visible poking through their swaying grass skirts as they thrust their pulsating cock flesh towards her… rubbing against the girl’s body with increasing speed and viciousness in tune with the drum beats.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

The second black female dancer tore away her grass skirt fingered herself, opening her sex to the audience, and began to urinate in a bright yellow stream that she directed over the crying child’s face. The child sputtered, trying not to swallow the salty urine. The female crouched low between the males, rubbing their cocks as she licked her own piss spray from the face, neck, and chest and then downward, plunging her long pink tongue into the vagina of the reluctant girl.

Again the audience seemed to applaud. I forced Ruth to her knees between my legs and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her mouth to my hot wet cunt. Fuck I wanted to impale myself on the male dancers’ cocks. Ruth’s tongue did little to sate my desires, and frustrated I thrust myself increasingly harder against her face.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

The male serviteurs removed their grass skirts and masturbated each other, stroking upwards to the ‘maman’ and downwards to the ‘boula’. Stroking furiously, they began to urinate over each other, rubbing their long thin cocks together and tongue kissing. We were so close to the stage that I could smell the strong infusion of urine and nigger sex. Ruth jammed three fingers into my cunt, rotating her wrist, as her fingers probed the inside of my pussy to the same excited rhythm of the Vodou drumbeat. I groaned unabated.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh …

Marinette, the sorcière, approached the front of the stage, as the other three dancers now called for Damballah-Wedo, the Grand Serpent, to possess their priestess …. The black mambo … I was guessing that we were quickly approaching the climax of this strange and sordid ritual performed as a demonstration of the evil that would take over, should the audience not partake in the strange sponsorship of the Justice Ministry.

Was the fabric of this performance not transparent? Or was it that all participated willingly in the great design of this evil enclave? I was not quite sure. Marinette, the Vodou priestess … solicited her dark Loa, the Kafou; to Damballah-Wedo, the evil snake to ride her … to corral her … ride her like a horse…

Dugh. Thump. Dugh …

The other dancing serviteurs all knelt frenziedly around her, masturbating furiously, as she removed her grass skirt to reveal her true sexual nature … from between her long black shining thighs extended an impressive penis … as thick as my wrist and as long as my forearm … its black girth now lubricated by the ravishment of her worshipers’ tongues. Her hips pumped and thrust back and forth in perfect rhythm to the intense petro beat for the fervor of her evil devotees as they cried for the blood of the sacrificial one!

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding. Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding.

Marinette moved behind the naked child, her hands groping the girl as she continued to dance and gyrate so that her cock poked through the girl’s open legs and rubbed directly beneath the girl’s perineum. Her cock stuck lewdly outwards towards the audience in a bizarre picture of evil sexual abuse. Her serviteurs continued to thrust their genitals back and forth, masturbating themselves and each other as they assisted with the placement of Marinette’s enormous phallus beneath the tiny opening that formed the child’s vagina.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding …

The two males rubbed themselves up and down the phallic poles as the female dancer gripped the girth of Marinette’s fleshy spear and pushed it into the tiny opening in anticipation of the ritual impaling. It was too big and would no doubt in my mind rip the child in two … its impossible length and circumference would kill the girl in a painful and bloody death.

Dugh. Thump. Dugh. Ding …

I thrust my clit harder against Ruth’s upturned face as I rapidly approached the edge of my own orgasm … a power feeling was rapidly overcoming me and other members of the audience, as their groans matched that of the evil niggers on the stage … but tried desperately to hold off … for the moment of final penetration … surely, this was as far as it would go … after all, it was only to raise the awareness of the evils of Vodou amongst the Benefactors… nothing more? Secretly, I hoped for more … YES … I wanted to see it happen … The beat was going at a crazy pace as what I thought would be the climax approached and passed … Marinette’s movements indicated the imminent penetration.

The beat thumped louder to obscure the screaming girl … just like the followers of Moloch used drums to drown out the sounds of their child sacrifices … the sorcière’s penis was already several inches inside the screaming girl as the other three serviteurs held her fast, pressing downwards upon her body, so that more and more of their priestesses cock thrust upwards, stretching her, tearing into her.

The girl was almost unconscious as they cut the bindings away Marinette continued thrusting and dancing with the weightless child was almost fully impaled upon her… blood poured forth down her little white legs as the entire group danced furiously … licking the blood and masturbating themselves closer and closer to orgasm.

Finally, Marinette’s cock was now buried balls deep, as the girl’s limp body just dangled against her abdomen, just swaying in the movements of the priestess … her soul was taken to hell by the demon Iwa that possessed the worshipers. As the beat slowed again, Marinette, released the girl’s corpse and it slid forward and hung, still impaled on her meat… the priestess continued her wild frenzied dance regardless as the audience screamed enthusiastically at their obscene and murderous performance.

“Arrghhhhhhhhhhh!” Screamed the priestess. Her black magic swept the room bringing all the audience and myself to an intense collective orgasm!


To be continued …


If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email xpanther2019@protonmail.com