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.

AUTHORS NOTES: This is the first of its kind and a very special thanks to Shellshock for his narrative outline for this interesting blasphemous story. I hope you like my treatment and storytelling. Forgive me for taking artistic license, as some situations, characters, and sequencing have been altered from the original. I will post the original narrative outline up in the posts section for anyone interested. What I liked about Shellshock’s outline was that there was enough detail to frame the content and enough latitude for me to put myself into it.

STORY CODES: Blasphemy, Sacrilege, LGBTQ, Young, WS, Supernatural, Demonic, Satanic, Abuse, Corruption, Evil, Devil Worship, NC, Sexual Sin, Sex Demons.

CREATED: 08.06.2018 / REVISITED: 20.10.2023

Requiem Of Sins 1


Unlocking the sexual powers of darkness is the focus of much occult literature; but more specifically the major subject of the forbidden text known as the Libra Diabolica Sexualis (also known as the Requiem of Sins). An ancient Arabian book of occult astrology and dark magic dating back to the tenth or eleventh century, it gained notoriety for the obscene nature of its magical rites and recipes. With its cryptic astrological descriptions and spells covering almost every conceivable hidden wish or desire, the Requiem of Sins was said to slowly reveal itself to its reader, its perverted content ever urging greater wickedness, like an evil journey of demonic corruption. Among some of its more controversial contents were highly sexualized rituals and rites performed before wicked demonic idols. During these activities, the physical orgasm was not the ultimate goal. It was repeated and prolonged perverted sexual excitement that placed the participants in a state between full exhaustion and full wakefulness. This would allow them to commune with their inner demonic self and open themselves up to reveal their true nature in the worship of evil.


It was a time before mobile phones and Internet. The folks in the small village of Holy Oak got around on horses and carts. It would be a day’s travel to the nearest town. Things haven’t been going well in Holy Oak, in fact, the village has been in turmoil since the death of their local priest, Father Nathan. Our protagonist, Samantha Druss, had recently married her meek preacher husband, Henry Allen Druss. Almost immediately after their honeymoon, they moved to Henry’s first parish appointment in this small village.

While Henry struggled to come to terms with his role as their new priest and pastoral leader; he also struggled with his role as a husband and lover to his attractive new wife. Samantha, like her husband, had always put her faith in the Lord Almighty. Even when she was greatly disappointed with her husband in bed, she still believed in salvation.

But shit happens. Samantha, after a chance meeting with the village healer, a mysterious and provocative, woman called Angelique Volkova, decided that she was not happy with the status quo. Disenchanted, Samantha befriended this wicked woman who could have been the reason behind the death of Father Nathan, but was all this debauchery Angelique’s doing, or was Samantha’s descent more of a reflection of her hidden self?


The honeymoon was truly over in more ways than one.

Samantha and Henry Druss had arrived in Holy Oak, a small village community on the edge of nowhere. The couple had been married only a few weeks before Henry was to take up his position as the new parish priest and pastoral leader in Holy Oak, replacing Father Nathan, who had unfortunately passed about six months previously. Father Nathan’s death had been attributed to, what Henry had heard, had been a stroke. The small closely knitted community had been without religious leadership for longer than anyone in the village cared to remember. They had all been excited about meeting their new Parrish priest. The work of the Lord was awaiting them.

Both Samantha and Henry had been virgins before their wedding night. Henry was a staunch believer in the Godly principle of ‘no sex before marriage’ and Samantha had saved herself for their special night together. It had been awkward and by no means a pleasurable experience.

Samantha had hoped for a romantic beginning to their wedded life together, but with both of them being so naive, sex consisted of the missionary position for about five minutes before Henry came. Samantha had been initially eager to experience “making love” to her husband and consummate their marriage before God, but the initial pain was sharp and rather uncomfortable. Her dryness also emancipated their lack of passion.


The work of the Lord was never done. Father Henry had to throw himself into his role with the local community. They had been some six months without a spiritual and pastoral leader and as this was his first appointment, he wanted to make a difference. Holy Oak got its name for being the burial place of Saint Francis Xavier who was credited for some minor miracles before he died in his late teenage years. His grave site had been marked with the commissioning of a large statue of an avenging angel vanquishing over a twisted serpent-like demon. By the end of his first day, Father Henry must have heard a dozen different accounts of the story and its significance to Holy Oak. Father Henry was given the keys to the church vault where supposedly the actual bones of Saint Francis Xavier had been moved to for safekeeping.

Besides the stories about the origins of Holy Oak, Father Henry could not help but pick up some of the gossip about the deceased Father Nathan and his unexplained death. Some said it was a stroke. Others hinted at foul play. Gossip was the Devil’s tool. Evidently, Father Nathan had been a strong pastoral leader, but in the latter part of his life, especially in the months before his death, he had become increasingly reclusive – almost shunning the local community and miscreant when it came to prayer and even some Sunday services. The locals really hoped that Father Henry was going to be able to fill Father Nathan’s big shoes and make up for all the shortcomings of their departed priest.


Father Henry had asked his new bride, Samantha for help in getting the parish back into order and she took to the task with zeal, hoping that it would bring them closer together during this trying time in their new relationship. It was hard for her to hide her disappointment in the lack of romance. She always believed that her marriage would bring her fulfillment — whatever that was supposed to mean, but instead, she felt a little empty and unsatisfied with everything.

While her husband busied himself with affairs of the parish. She spent her first week or so, cleaning up the refectory and sorting out some of the personal belongings of the deceased Father Nathan. She was not sure of the protocol, but surely these personal books, diaries, and other items should be sent to his next of kin. She was not sure. But, curious to know a little more about their predecessor, she could not help but take a sticky beak.

Most of the old books were, as she expected, religious in nature. Some were in English and a few older leather-bound editions in Latin. The rear room of the refectory was very dusty and the musky smell was somewhat overpowering. It smelt unclean and dank. Whilst cleaning out a large old chest Samantha found an odd assortment of things that seemed strangely out of place. First was half of what appeared to be a human skull. She picked it up gingerly and then dropped it immediately back into the box. There was also a smooth wooden crucifix and a chalice, a fabric stole, and a vestment that was covered with strange markings that definitely were not of Christian origin.

There was also a book a leather-bound note pad and some loose pages inside. Samantha retrieved the heavy black-clad book that had its title deeply embossed into its hard casing. It was entitled the “Libra Diabolica Sexualis”. What did that mean? She flicked through the pages to find it was virtually empty with only short paragraphs written in a weird script that resembled symbols that made no sense to her. Cryptic? Disappointed she dropped the heavy book back in the box and next she picked up the notepad.

She studied the first few pages of the hand-written notepad. The pages were filled with random muttering. It really did not make much sense to Samantha either. She loved a little mystery. On closer inspection, she found a few letters inside the notepad. One of the letters mentioned one of the other parishioners from Holy Oak.

It was a woman by the name of Angelique Volkova. Samantha had noticed this woman’s uncomfortable stare when they had first arrived. She was the raven-haired beauty who ran the local bookshop and folk art gallery. “Rare Books, Art, and Things” — that’s what the sign said. There was something about her; like a wildness that made Samantha feel uneasy. Maybe she would know something about Father Nathan’s stuff? Maybe she knew something about this Libra Diabolica Sexualis?


Henry had asked his pretty young wife to help out at the Sunday school meeting and bible classes, but Samantha had been initially reluctant, saying that there was still a lot to get into order in the refectory. She told Henry that she really wanted the refectory to be properly ordered and completely presentable, quoting his own words, that “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”.

Henry could not but agreed that classes would have to wait. There was really no need to rush straight into it, as there was still a lot of settling in to do. Their new daily routines had left precious little energy left for the bedroom. Samantha signed. She of course understood her husband’s responsibility as the new pastor would be taxing, but could not help but wish for more opportunity to ignite their passions for one another. It was after all what God intended.

Later that day, quite by chance, Samantha was walking down in the village common. While she passed by the “Rare Books, Art, and Things” store, she heard someone call her name.


She turned around slowly in response to see the shop owner standing on the threshold.

“Oh, hello, Ms. Angelique?” she asked rather hesitantly.

“Yes. Angelique … Angelique Volkova … but you must call me Angie.”

Angelique brushed her wild hair to one side and smiled enigmatically.

“You must come in and join me for some afternoon tea.”

“Well … I have a few chores to …”

“Nonsense. They can all wait, my dear. You must come in,” she insisted warmly.

It was a very different feeling from the one she got initially when Henry and her first arrived. Maybe, she was suspicious of us at the start, she thought to herself.

“You’re right,” Samantha smiled politely.

“Come in. Come in. Make yourself feel at home. I will just put the kettle on.”

The shop owner pointed towards a small boudoir made up of a low U-shaped couch and a round table covered in a dark-toned tablecloth upon which were several lighted candles. Samantha sat down and looked around the shop interior. It was bigger than it looked from the outside. The shop was a colorful chaotic pallet of strange old things, folk paintings, old books, and “objets d’art”.

Angelique returned promptly with a tray laden with an old-fashioned teapot and two missed-matched tea cups. She set them down on the table. Angelique turned the sign on the door (facing outwards) to say “Closed”. Drawing the small curtain across the shop door window, which was the only source of natural light, the dimly lit interior now looked private and even more cozy.

“How are you settling in, my dear?” Angelique poured their tea.

“Well,” she said drawing a breath, “There’s a lot to do in the refectory.”

Samantha sipped the warm liquid and her head immediately felt a slight buzzing sensation. The spicy fragrances from the scented candles seemed to also entice her to relax.

“I’m sure. But I must say, you looked troubled. Can I help?”

The strange raven-haired woman placed her hand firmly over Samantha’s. Her fingers felt strong and reassuring. Samantha felt a little light-headed; very relaxed; even a little drowsy.

“Thanks … we’re new here …”

“And new to each other … I mean you and Father Henry. You’re honeymooners right?”

“Yes. Yes … Is it that obvious?”

“I’m a Wicca healer, my dear,” Angelique laughed softly.

Angelique’s voice had a slight reverberation to it. Samantha had to focus as she was uncharacteristically dazed.

“Wicca?” Samantha replied.

She subconsciously touched the small gold-chained crucifix that hung around her delicate neck.

“Yes. They used to burn my kind at the stake.”

The harmonic in Angelique’s tone seems to ebb and flow. Samantha tried to collect her thoughts.

“I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to sound judgmental.”

“I understand my dear,” Angelique’s grip on her hand seemed a bit stronger. “After all you are the wife of a preacher. Our new priest … There are a lot of misconceptions about Wicca, especially in a place like Holy Oak. Pagans celebrate nature you know … Mother Nature, the rhythm of the seasons, and the Moon Goddess. We use natural herbs and connatural magic to heal. The folks of Holy Oak accept me here; as their unofficial healer. With the death of our local last priest, Father Nathan, they have kept me very busy tending to their woos and concerns …”

Samantha felt the honesty in her words; and felt the passion she had for her beliefs. Who was she to judge?

“… You see, there are those who use magic for positivity; for goodness; for health and vitality. And then there are those who use black magic for their own selfish desires. My powers, or shall I just call it my ‘intuition’ tell me that you are in need of some help my dear … things are not quite right … your life is not in balance …”

“You are right, Angie …”

It was the first time she used her name. It felt good to say her name.

For no explainable reason, Samantha felt an immediate kinship with Angelique. There was something very likable about her. Maybe it was far too early to be open? Maybe she should be more reserved. But Angelique’s allure made Samantha want to drop her guard … to explain everything she felt … her frustrations with her new marriage … their lack of passion … (dear she say sex)? … There was her discovery of the strange things left behind by Father Nathan. Samantha took another gulp of her tea. The delicious buzzing feeling continued.

“As you know, we haven’t been married long,” she started.

She returned the grip on Angelique’s hand. Samantha’s palms were very moist. She was perspiring more than usual. In fact, Samantha felt warm all over. She felt a pleasant spasm between her legs and her vagina felt a little oozy.

“Even in your Garden of Sin, even Adam and Eve needed instruction,” said Angelique.

“Garden of Eden? Why do you call it the ‘Garden of Sin’?” asked Samantha.

She found Angelique’s voice mesmerizing … almost hypnotic.

“Wasn’t it the place of the original sin?”

Samantha knew what she meant. Eden had been the place of original sin; of Adam and Eve’s rebellion of disobedience in consuming the forbidden fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Yes … Samantha knew about the collective guilt that her Husband would refer to in the sermon as the “sinful nature” … sometimes for dramatic poise he would say it was ‘our slip towards total depravity’.

“You were both virgins, right?”


“Like Adam and Even, the passion you seek requires some disobedience … a little naughtiness … a little of the darkness.”

“Yes,” Samantha found herself agreeing.

She was truly hypnotized by Angelique’s words.

“Did you find a book and some other items left behind by Father Nathan?”

“You mean the Libra Diabolica Sexualis?” asked Samantha.

“Yes. It is very rare … and is also known as the ‘Requiem’.”

“But when I looked through the book … it was empty besides some strange symbols?”

Angelique laughed.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“You mean masturbation? Of course not. It’s a moral sin.”

“How can you hope to give your partner pleasure, if you don’t know how to pleasure yourself? Mark my words … ‘the passion you seek requires some disobedience’ … so go home and be disobedient … then come back and see me tomorrow.”



Samantha did as Angelique had advised her. All the way home she continued to feel the buzz. She had enjoyed their conversation and felt the kinship of bonding with this strange Wicca woman. She thought that she would keep their conversation to herself as this was not something she wanted to share with her husband. Henry was a wonderful and caring man, but she desperately wanted passion … and the thought of being a little naughty and disobedient seemed to be overwhelmingly exciting right now. Why spoil the fun?

Getting back, she found that Henry was not around. Good, she thought. He was probably tending to his lost sheep. Samantha’s heart skipped a few beats as she locked the refectory door. She did not want any interruptions. Her vagina felt pleasantly moist and the buzz of sexual arousal was driving her forward.

What difference could this make to the content of this empty book, she thought. The Requiem of Sins; the Libra Diabolica Sexualis; whatever it was called? She became highly aware of herself as she began to undress in the church refectory. It felt wrong as her intentions were sinfully motivated. Angelique’s words about disobedience reassured her miscreant behavior as she began to touch herself. She was very damp. The vagina throbbed. Her body felt so alive. She felt a new kind of passion filling her — a dark passion filled her as she began to masturbate herself for the very first time.

She laid a throw blanket down over the warm wooden floor. Once seated, she picked up the damnable book. The Requiem of Sins. She opened the first page, half-expecting a disappointing conclusion to all this tomfoolery and Wiccan hocus pocus. But to her complete surprise, there on the first page before her was an elegant drawing of a naked woman and a man. The couple stood hand-in-hand in the setting of an elaborate Victorian garden. The Garden of Sin? The illustrated woman had small fist-sized breasts and a hairless vagina. The man was clean shaven too and his penis stood upright and firmly erect. Samantha touched the outer lips of her labia as she read the words that were no longer intelligible. They read …


Was she open? Was she impertinent? Oh, the pleasure of disobedience!

She turned the page to find the woman drawn in the throws of private ecstasy. First with one digit, then two, until she was masturbating herself with four fingers in her ripe wet hole and two pressed upwards inside her rectum. Her breasts were heaving and her mouth twisted in pleasure.


The wild image of self-pleasure was overwhelming to Samantha who had never dared to imagine this sinful act, let alone perform it. Her fingers found her itchy hole and were soon plowing her nibble digits back and forth as she groaned softly to herself.

She quickly turned the page to find the naked man performing his own masturbation ritual, his hand gripping his turgid cock and stroking it up and down whilst toying with his anus. Yes, she thought, she’d love to see her husband lose himself in this way … to join her in their mutual disobedience. She turned another page to see the woman masturbating before a large mirror, enjoying the auto-erotica of her own delights. The wayward woman watched herself press all manner of phallic objects inside herself. Samantha could feel her pleasure building, like nothing she had experienced with her hapless husband … Yes, Angelique was right, they had both got a lot to learn about the pleasures of the flesh.

The following images mixed naturally with supernatural as the woman in the mirror seemed to step through the realistic boundaries to join herself as they presented a torrid lesbian scene … their mouths entangled in a passionate kiss; their breasts pressed together as they wildly fingered each other’s holes … more images showed them intertwined licking each other out and scissoring their clitorises together until their mutual orgasm. These pages were immediately followed by the two males doing much the same with each other, sucking each other’s cocks and licking their partner’s balls and anuses. Samantha immediately found preference in the females … was this true disobedient? Yes, it was. Yes. Yes … More …


Samantha noticed how the book illustrations were adorned with complex patterned borders of intricate designs, sometimes overtly phallic and vaginal, while other featured divine cherubs with erect genitalia and naked young angels fornicating with each other. She did not immediately recognize these images as pedophilic, but these decorative motifs seemed to spark an interest in Samantha to see more in the way of the conjoining of age-play … very young ones in the throws of dark passion.

“YES, bring on my dark infestation,” she panted to herself.

Much to her delight, the images that immediately followed echoed her miscreant thoughts exactly as the two female lovers were joined by two young flat-chested girls with ponytails. Incestuous? Pedophilic? The illustrations showed the older women masturbating upon the faces of the young girls; their sexual juices flooding their little mouths as they fucked them with long wooden crucifixes. She saw the scene as blasphemous but truly beautiful … The Garden of Sin was beautiful! Samantha’s cunt ached for release. She saw the beauty of disobedience. The spasms between her legs built faster and faster and without even being able to complete this section of the book, she began to buck wildly in the throws of her first masturbation-induced orgasm.


Henry had returned to the church refectory. As the sun set it cast long shadows across the Holy Oak cemetery. It was a somber place. He looked dogged-tired from a day of active listening in helping the Holy Oak folks to find their peace and contentment. There had been a never-ending stream of confessions and Henry desperately needed to unplug. As the new pastor, he had taken it upon himself to meet all the parishioners and maybe it was a case of taking on too much too soon.

He found himself in their bedroom and without even washing, laid out on the bed covers and was fast asleep within minutes. When Henry awoke, he found his loving wife, Samantha curled up next to him. They spooned together as Henry snored loudly.


“So tell me my dearest, what did you observe?” asked Angelique.

Samantha blushed somewhere between crimson and pink. Maybe fuchsia.

“Well … I followed your advice, Angie.”

“And?” insisted the raven-haired witch.

“That damnable book! It was not empty,” answered Samantha.

Samantha bit her lip and looked very guilty.

“Did it do the trick?” probed Angelique.

“Oh yes, Angie. Yes, my God! Oh my God! It felt so good to be so bad.”

“So you see what a little disobedience can do right?”

“Yes,” she answered enthusiastically.

Samantha’s Christian guilt seemed to be overshadowed by her new love of darkness. She’s even removed her little gold crucifix … as she felt strange about it, since her solo experience.

“So imagine what a lot of disobedience could bring?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I will let you figure that out for yourself, my dear. It’s making me wet just thinking about it.”

“Is it?”

Samantha’s cunt was open and wet too. She couldn’t wait to masturbate again with the damnable book.

“Did you bring what I asked for?”

Angelique had asked her for something sacred from the church. Samantha had been in two minds about it. On one hand, she felt obliged to serve her husband’s interests and his beloved church. On the other, she was excited about pleasing her new best friend and confidant. She opened her shoulder bag and retrieved a bone (a thigh bone from the church vault) and an old chalice. She had stolen the human bone while her husband was fast asleep. It supposedly belonged to Saint Francis Xavier. The chalice she had found among the items left behind by the priest. Angelique grinned pleasingly at Samantha.

“There. It wasn’t hard was it? No. And you’ve done a highly blasphemous thing. Contemplate that while you study your damnable book. Now go, I have things to do. Say nothing of this to anyone. Understand?”

“Yes, Angie.”


Unable to contain herself, Samantha attempted to hide the damnable book under her scarf and take it to her bedroom. Checking around, she was delighted to find that her husband, Henry, was preoccupied with urgent church matters in the chapel. He’d be busy all afternoon. Good, she thought to herself. She subconsciously rubbed her damp crutch. Fuck, she was feeling horny. Her heart galloped wildly as thoughts of her awakening made her shudder. Lesbian pedophiles fucking crucifixes. She was literally dripping from below; her cunt juices trickling down the inside of her legs. She just couldn’t contain her fervor to be alone again and immerse herself in her darkening world of disobedience.

Once in the bedroom, she leaned up against the closed door. Her breathing was quite erratic and her pulse was racing. She quickly closed the blinds and checked the door once again. She stripped completely naked before her dressing mirror. She took a brief moment to look at herself with new insight. She remembered the supernatural illustrations of the woman stepping through the mirror surface. Her nipples stood proud and her cunt looked open and puffy. Oh, she was having such naughty feelings. Carnal feelings. Alone at last with her private lust.

Yes. To be disobedient. She thought about all that Angelique had said, especially about the two kinds of Wiccan; the white magic witches that only used their powers for goodness; and the black magic witches that had no qualms about using their powers for their own devices … she imagined all the things that she would do, if she had these dark powers. Mmmmm. Yes. To be more than just naughty … more than disobedient … but to allow herself to think of even darker things … wicked things … even more blasphemous and perverted things … Yes, she was truly ready for some carnal wickedness …

She opened the damnable book on the same page that had brought her to an earth-crashing orgasm the night before. She recounted the pleasure she’d felt whilst studying the words and images and how they had brought her to an earth-crashing orgasm. With great expectations, she turned to the next page. Her cunt throbbed as she immediately sank three fingers inside, wetting them in her copious juices and then rubbing her erect clitoris with delightful results. She tasted her own cunt and imagined what it would be like to go down on Angelique … YES. YES. YES …

Upon this page, she found a series of illustrations that looked quite different from the night before. Yes, they were definitely more than just explicit. The woman had donned a large vulgar-looking strap-on and then proceeded to fuck the young children, both vaginally and anal. It not only looked hot and sinful, it looked completely perverted. The sadistic woman looked like a pedophilic predator and the anguish on the little one’s faces said that this was a one-way pleasure. Again, Samantha felt the incredible rush approaching. Yes. More. Yes. More.

Suddenly she heard someone outside the bedroom door. Could it be Henry? Fuck! She quickly hid the book beneath the bed. It was done just in time, as the door opened and Henry blinked at his wife’s nakedness in the middle of the afternoon.

“What in the name of God is going on?” he said.

He sounded genuinely concerned, but there was a hint of something distrusting. Samantha’s heart raced again, no longer from arousal, but from her own sinful guilt. The sinful nature. Her face burned with anxiety as she had no intention of telling the truth. Her disobedience would not be understood by her ‘by-the-bible’ husband.

“I was about to bathe …” she lied.

She wasn’t sure if Henry could smell her stinking cunt. She was more than aware of how aroused she had been up until the moment of this distraction … almost at orgasm. Henry didn’t seem to believe her completely. His eyes seemed to scan the room suspiciously.

“Why don’t you come here, darling?”

Samantha opened her legs wider in a bold invitation. She wasn’t sure what Henry was thinking, but he sat himself down next to Samantha on the bedding anyway and they kissed gently at first, and then as his hand brushed her erect nipples, they began to kiss more passionately. For all her deception, this was a really passionate moment.

“You’ve been working so hard … you need to relax … to unwind a little …”

“I guess you’re right.”

Now it was Henry’s turn to pant a little. Samantha hoped he bought it. Her hand searched for the bulge beneath his robe and she began to rub him between the legs.

“Why don’t you take off your awkward robe and lay down for a while?” she added as she squeezed his semi-erect penis through his priestly robe. She was leaving nothing to the imagination, “I’m feeling a little horny.”

“I have to get back soon,” Henry protested (very half-hardheartedly).

Samantha was not taking no for an answer. She quickly raised his robe over his waistline and slipped her hand into his conservative-styled underwear. She pulled them down and over his knees. She then began to fondle his sweaty testicles and the root of his growing penis.

“Oh, Henry, your cock looks so big today,” she lied.

She quickly knelt down on the floor between his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Her answer was to take his cock into her hot warm mouth. She sucked the crown while dragging the foreskin down the shaft, exposing the most sensitive gland to the ravishing of her tongue.

“Oh! OH! OH!” groaned Henry.

Samantha remembered the images from the Libra Diabolica Sexualis that showed young boys sucking each other’s cocks in a multitude of positions and combinations. It inspired her and by the reaction that Henry was giving to her efforts, sucking him was taking things to a new level (as she had never done anything like this before). Without warning his hands gripped her shoulders tightly as his whole body suddenly went rigid and then began to shake violently. Was he having a seizure? No. A flood of hot salty semen pumped into her eager mouth, over her tongue, and into the back of her throat. Henry’s erratic breathing began to slow, he released his grip on Samantha’s shoulders.

Samantha knelt up between his parted thighs and kissed his mouth. She made sure that he could taste himself as they kissed passionately again.



They had made passionate love that night. Well, the most passionate that Samantha had experienced from her new husband. He seemed to be inspired by her oral pleasuring and had cum hard again, this time in Samantha’s cunt. Exhausted from the combination of the church choirs and Samantha’s sexual demands, Henry had fallen into a deep sleep. His snoring told her that it was safe to play her solo games again. She retrieved the damnable book from under their bed and took it into the refectory.

Her cunt was leaking with Henry’s slime and Samantha’s bladder ached a little telling her that she should empty it. But she was too excited about the damnable book and her descent into her dark desires that she continued unabated. She sat down on the throw blanket that she’d left in the refectory and opened the damnable book again. The image was of a young girl, maybe eight or nine years old together with two older women (Samantha’s age).

The naked trio were again in the Garden of Sin, as Samantha remembered. The young girl was on her back, while the two women held her legs upwards and over her head. It looked a little uncomfortable, but Samantha could imagine for a young gymnast, it would be nothing. The girl began to urinate over for chest, chin, and into her open mouth. Fuck, this disgusting act looked so erotic to Samantha. She was already frigging herself when she peed over her own fingers.


The next images showed the older women getting into the act, firstly drinking the young girl’s piss and then each other. It was incredibly hot. Samantha reached into the box of items left behind by the priest and removed the half skull. Was the disgusting thing real? She hoped it was. Something told her it was. Her perverted excitement was getting out of control. Kneeling over the half skull, she pissed into it and brought it to her mouth. Fuck this was depraved, she thought to herself as she drank its briny yellow content.

The next series of pages seemed to bring both the woman and the man together in some kind of ritual inside the Garden of Sin. There were coupling of women and young girls (that appeared kind of incestuous); and men with young boys (that also appeared equally incestuous in nature). These scenes of taboo fornication were proceeded by images of men and women fucking and sucking together in all kinds of age-play scenarios. What followed was even more shocking to her, as she saw many detailed illustrations of witches having sex with various animals … dogs, pigs, and even a horse. Bestiality. There at the center of all the perversion was a figure with the head of a goat, the breasts of a woman, and the penis of a man.


Samantha grabbed the old wooden crucifix from the box of Father Nathan’s possessions. She kissed and licked its length — licking it like a lover.

“Fuck Jesus. Fuck God! Praise the GOAT GODDESS!”

She rubbed the wooden crucifix’s smoothness against the outer lips of her hungry cunt and then sank it into herself as far as she could.

“Aaaaaarghhhhhhhhhh …”

The blasphemy and sacrilege were just too much. Samantha bucked against her blasphemous dildo as she used it to relentlessly fuck her overheated hole. Her mind was filled with a new fantasy… one that would involve a whole new subversive mission ahead in Holy Oak. Her fingers pressed her pulsating clit as she envisioned that she was a deviant worshiper of the Goat Goddess that was there to subvert her husband’s fucked up parishioners, to turn them one-by-one again their own religion, in return for unbridled sex of the most deviant kind.


Samantha told Henry that it was time that they started to think about their Sunday School sessions.

Their lovemaking had definitely benefited from Samantha’s inspirations from that damnable book. The Requiem of Sins. But its diabolical influence had overcharged Samantha’s sexual appetite to the point where it was leading her into ever increasingly more sinister activities. That’s when Jasmine caught Samantha’s eye. She had seen this precocious little ten-year-old in church service, usually in tow with her rather dull-faced mother and father, as went about their drool routine. She was pretty, demure, and delicate. Samantha imagined doing all sorts of nasty things to this child in the name of the Goat Goddess.

Samantha had offered to assist the youngster, as the girl’s aged parents had expressed to their pastor, that they were having difficulties with her. The specifics of the difficulties were never completely revealed, only that they found it impossible to believe anything that the youngster said, as she constantly lied and pretended all the time. Catching her in the act of masturbation was probably the catalyst and to ‘save her soul’ they had confided this embarrassment to Henry.

If Samantha’s intuition was right, this could all work in her favor. Masturbation was certainly a serious sin. Whatever happened between them (if anything happened to transpire), who would have the more credible story? She would influence the wayward child (less politely said, corrupt her); bend her sinfulness towards something even more perverted; certainly not in the way her parents hoped, but absolutely in line with the images that Samantha enjoyed in the damnable book that explicitly envisioned women using young prepubescent children for their own private sexual gratification.

Now, alone in the refectory for the first time, Samantha sat down next to Jasmine. She wanted to undress the girl there and then and lick her in all her most intimate of places. Slowly. She put her arm around the small child in a ‘nurturing’ way.

“So, your mom and dad are worried about you, Jasmine,” Jasmine said nothing, “They tell me that you aren’t like the other little girls in your class?”

Still no reaction. Samantha stroked her hair and lightly caressed the girl’s bare shoulders.

“They tell me that they are worried about your mortal soul … that they caught you in the act of masturbation?”

“It’s not true,” Jasmine lied as she started to cry.

“You will be forgiven as long as you tell me all about it. You must be candid and tell me all the details. It will be our secret.”

“You won’t tell my mom and dad?”

“Definitely not.”

“What about the priest?”

“Not him either. It’s a … girl thing … between us.”

Samantha gave Jasmine her handkerchief and the little girl wiped her eyes.

“Well I get this tickling feeling in my puss-puss and I rub it with my middle finger.”


This explanation was exciting Samantha. Her cunt was moist at the girl’s nativity.

“Let me ask you … when your parents caught you masturbating … this wasn’t your first time was it?”

“No,” she admitted, ”I have done it a few times. It felt so nice. I didn’t realize that it was wrong.”

“Well, let me tell you a little secret; between us girls … it’s only wrong to those who don’t understand.”

“Oh. You mean my mom and dad?”

“Exactly. You must find ways not to be caught again. I masturbate myself at every opportunity I can.”

“You do?” her voice sounded elated at this new discovery.

“Yes. I love to stick my fingers inside my cunt. I rub my clit until I cum.”

“What’s a clit? What’s cum?”

“Well, I am going to tell you all about these things; together with the other children, just like you, at Sunday School. Would you like to come?”

“Oh Ms. Druss, I’d love to be in your class!”


Samantha thought about how pleasing it would be to corrupt more of the little ones through her Sunday School. She felt exhilarated by her first conversation with young Jasmine. There was so much potential. There was a truly carnal thrill to this process of inculcation in her unsavory game. She fantasized that she was a deviant worshiper, hidden in the folds of their church. She found pleasure in the secret meaning of her actions. Was this her personal subversive mission gifted from the perverted Goat Goddess?

She would need to be very selective about the child she took on; not that there were a lot of young children in Holy Oak. She could say they were to concentrate on helping the naughty children, saying they were the ones that needed the most work. She would look for disobedience (like Jasmine), as she wanted to encourage certain behaviors that would lead towards sexualizing their Sunday School education with topics like “Where do babies come from?” to “What is masturbation?” In Samantha’s mind, she had already started the process of objectifying the young ones as her playthings (to do whatever she wanted them to do). But she knew it would take a little time.


Angelique quickly closed the shop door and turned the sign as she always did when visited by Samantha. Samantha liked Angelique’s outfit as its sheerness showed off the woman’s attractive figure. Samantha said nothing. They kissed mouth to mouth and Samantha allowed the content of her mouth to be shared with her highly perverted friend. It had been at Angelique’s request (maybe it was a Wiccan thing), that Samantha was to get Henry to blow his load into her mouth before the church service and then come straight over to her shop so that she could sample Henry’s semen.

“That was amazing,” remarked Angelique as she licked her lips.

“I kept my promise. Now what about yours?” Samantha produced Father Natham’s letters.

She watched Angelique open the first of several letters that seemed to have been encrypted to keep their content private. Angelique smiled broadly.

“This is a big step. Are you sure you’re prepared for this?” asked Angelique.

Samantha nodded.

“Before I can teach you the Forbidden Language of Witches, you will need to be sworn to secrecy and participate in an initiation ritual. Follow me to my basement — we will not be distracted or disturbed there.”


Samantha sat on the old stone wall that surrounded the church graveyard. The setting sun was warm on her back as she studied the contents of the priest’s letters. They were not as she expected. Only now the strange symbols and scribbling were comprehensible. The story of the priest’s fate at the hands of the witch … a ritual sacrifice … a blood sacrifice … he was an offering to a dark goddess … in return for an unspeakable power. He’d died on the altar in the chapel.

The scene had been horrific. the witches had presided over it. The aftermath had been sanitized long before the priest’s death was reported. It looked like a stoke. Who would doubt the words of the one who found his fallen body? But Samantha knew the truth. She relished the perversity of the truth. Now. she was sworn to secrecy, sworn to the sisterhood, and sworn to Angelique.

So much had changed since their arrival at Holy Oak. Henry knew little about Samantha’s transformation. He wasn’t ready yet. But soon. Even Samantha hardly recognized herself. Glancing around the graveyard. There was nobody in sight. She was alone. She felt erotically charged as she openly touched herself to the memory of the witches’ rite. Soon she would begin her magical work at the Sunday School. So many young minds to corrupt. Soon she would corrupt her husband … oh the bliss of disobedience.


They had descended a set of steep stone stairs to a cellar below the rare bookshop. They had both been completely naked. It was the first time she’d been naked before anyone except her husband; and the first time she’d seen another woman naked too. She liked the sensation of being so exposed. She got a thrill from another woman lustily looking at her nakedness. She even dared to touch herself in front of Angelique. Look at me, she thought. Look at my tits. Look at my shaven cunt. She’d liked looking at Angelique’s body too. Her breasts were bigger. Her cunt is more open and red. They were both aroused by each other. She wanted to be a witch.

There was the sound of pagan music. A throbbing beat that made her want to masturbate to its wicked rhythm. Her fingers couldn’t help but twist and tease her hard little nipples. There was a haze of heavily laced candles; the aroma made her feel sensual; her eyes blurred in their hallucinogenic smokiness. Her mind was filled with the buzz.

She saw the bed altar set out before the large statue of the Goat Goddess. The idol looked so evil. She was told to kneel for it and she did. Angelique caressed her naked breasts and spoke in a language she did not understand. Her mind was filled with impure thoughts; disobedient thoughts; evil thoughts. Her body was filled with carnal lust and her cunt had never been wetter. Her eyes focused on the Goat Goddesses genitals. There between its legs was an erect cock and below that an open vagina. A twin-sexed god. Angelique said that it was the Baphomet. The god of the witches. They worshiped it with blood sacrifice.

Once sworn to the Baphomet, there was no turning back. The Baphomet was the Devil. They worshiped the Devil. Was she ready to worship the Devil? Did she want to leave before it was too late? Samantha had no intention of turning back.

Samantha urinated into the chalice and drank it. It was watery. Angelique urinated into the chalice and she drank that too. Angelique’s urine was much stronger in taste. hot, salty, and acrid. She drank it all. Delicious. Praise the Baphomet. Praise the Baphomet.

“… Darksome night and shining moon, hearken to the witches’ rune. East then south, west then north, with the bone phallus, cum thee forth!”

She saw the long bone. It was the thigh bone of the dead saint that she had stolen from the church vault. It had been carefully carved into an obvious phallus. A bone phallus. Angelique told her to fuck herself with it. To fuck her anus with the bone phallus. With digits deep in her wet cunt and the bone phallus pushed as far up her shit hole as she could, she began to pray to the Baphomet. She prayed for all the evil sexual things she desired. She longed to be accepted as one of the Coven. She prayed to be infected with sex demons, that they may use her, and that she may do their evil perverted bidding.

“… Cut the baby with thy knife, with the sacrifice we take its life. Powers of the witch’s blade, come ye as the charge is made.”

Now, Samantha was getting closer to orgasm. She masturbated frantically. The mist of arousal filled her mind. Lust upon lust. Images from a damnable book danced before her eyes. She saw two young acolytes … young waifs, no breasts, no public hair, no older than eight or ten years old… they held a crying baby between them. The baby dangled naked, white and fat … hung by its chubby little legs. The baby screamed as they began to stab it to death. Its blood splattered over the waifs as they laughed loudly rubbing the blood over themselves. The coven was excited by the sight of ritual sacrifice. The witches gathered all around her, naked and fornicating. She smelt urine, feces, and girl cum.

“… In the Garden of Sin, be disobedient unto shim. Wand, pentacle, and sword — sworn to be you to keep thy word.”

Samantha watched curiously as the witch Angelique donned a heavy goat-like headpiece. It had a long snout and curled horns. With her eyes staring outwards from the empty sockets, it made her look totally evil.

The pagan drum beat seemed to increase in its urgency. They were reaching a crescendo.

Samantha stared in total disbelief as Angelique’s body began a magical change … transforming and mutating. No longer female, Angelique’s body appeared more baphometic; and deep from within her juiced-up cunt lips, there grow a protrusion that extended outwards to form an enormous animal-like sex organ, in the shape of a goat’s pizzle. It was fully erect and appeared longer and thicker than her husband’s pathetic little cock … the Goat Goddess began stroking herself vigorously … Oh fuck yer. .. Hail the Baphomet …. Samantha was cumming … her whole body was in convulsions … orgasmic convulsions … OH FUCK! … Hail Satan … Hail The Devil …

She saw copious amounts of semen squirting from the Devil’s appendage. Demon seed drenched its chest and face. The witches licked it from the Devil’s bisex body as they moaned and masturbated before their beloved Goat Goddess.

“… Queen of Cock, Queer of Hell, feel thy Baphomet spell. Horned hunter of the night, work thy will by sex magick rite.”



Life in the small village of Holy Oak returned to normal. Despite the death of the hapless Father Nathan, it seemed that the folks had accepted Henry and Samantha Druss as one of their own. Church life was busy for Father Henry. Samantha continued to be the ever-devoted and dutiful wife to her husband, the pastor. Initially, she had asked for more time to settle in before taking on the extra duties associated with running the Sunday School and Bible Classes. But now she seemed more confident in herself and their life in the small rural village. Henry was of course pleased to see her overcome her earlier struggles and gave her every support possible in her endeavors (strange as they seemed to him at times).

As husband and wife, their relationship issues were also on the mend. Their passionless marriage had turned around for the better and with cautious encouragement, Samantha had pushed her husband’s expectations of their bedroom antics to a more interesting level. He still seemed to harbor some doubts about their kinkier activities but accepted them all the same. Of course, Samantha’s secret relationship with Angelique continued with unequaled lustful exuberance. They met regularly to plot and scheme together… and of course to share many perverted lesbian pleasures. The witches’ agenda was never sated; the work of the Goat Goddess was never done.


Sunday School and Bible Classes in the refectory began with little fanfare and was free of incident. Everything appeared as it should be … uneventful, dull, and rather boring by design. Samantha hand-picked the students that she thought were most interesting to serve her secret desires. Of course, they were all the most unreliable children … the ones that nobody would believe over their teacher, should any indiscretions be alerted. But that was definitely Plan B. In the first instance, Samantha fully intended to use the secretive powers now at her disposal to get her deviant way.

The start would need to be subtle. She would use the children’s natural curiosity… questions about life would inevitably come up. Why shouldn’t young children kiss on the mouth? Where do babies come from? What is masturbation? Why do boys penis go hard? What’s a period? Why do my nipples get hard? They would start an avalanche of questions that would lead further and further off the topic of the bible (though a healthy disregard for fucking god almighty was also necessary).

More and more they would probe into the realm of sensuality and sexuality. Samantha’s cunt was wet just thinking about all the nasty things she wanted to do with her class of preteens. She was ready with the hot-button answers. All she needed to do was set the wheels in motion.

Samantha made sure that in the early classes, Henry saw exactly how straightforward they were. There were eight students in all – three boys and five girls: Jasmine (of course), Peter, William, Louise, Katherine, Raylene, Linda, and Bobby.

Henry interrupted the class to quote the bible several times. Henry could not help himself but quoted Matthew, chapter 4, verse 1, saying … “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the Devil.”

He attempted to explain the biblical story by saying further, “Jesus was not tempted to sin – as in wanting to sin, but just holding back the urge. Sometimes we feel tempted, like an inward desire to commit sin.”

Samantha thanked Henry and quickly moved on to another subject.

He was delighted in his wife’s new vigor. She seemed to be a natural at capturing the interest of the young boys and girls. It seemed that he had given Samantha his nod of approval and soon didn’t bother to attend, satisfied that everything was going well and that soon the wayward children would learn that being good was the only way to win favor with the Lord of Heaven.

It was towards the end of the month when Samantha began to get a little restless. She wanted to provoke some naughtiness. Samantha explained that whatever was spoken about at Sunday School was to be kept to themselves. Whatever they talked about or did, she would not share with either the priest or their parents. She said that she wanted them all to be very open in the spirit of learning and growing closer. Jasmine grinned at Samantha, as she had a burning question to ask.

“Ms. Druss. Can you tell me why my dad doesn’t like me kissing my younger sister?”

“Well Jasmine, he thinks you may have incestuous feelings towards your sibling.”

“What’s incest?” asked Katherine.

“It’s when two related children have sex with each other,” answered Samantha.

Her cunt was already damp. She longed to finger herself.

“What’s sex like, Miss?” asked Peter.

“Well, it’s like masturbation but more fun,” answered Samantha.

“What’s masturbation?” asked Louise.

“Well, that would be when a boy or a girl touches themselves in certain places that give them pleasure,” Samantha licked her lips. This was getting her very horny, ”But, that would be a sin, right?”

“Yer, my father said, if he ever catches me touching myself again, that he’d whip me raw,” said, young Bobby.

Jasmine looked at Samantha. She looked relieved that she wasn’t the only one in the class who had been caught masturbating by a family member. Samantha smiled back at her reassuringly.

“My father said that it’s the work of the Devil. Like Father Henry said about temptation. We’re supposed to never do anything like that. My father even took the door off of the hinges to my bedroom; and told me to always sleep on my front. He thinks he knows everything from the bible and says ‘The Devil makes works for idol hands’.”

“Well, children. Let me ask you … when masturbating, were you hurting anyone?”

“No,” said Raylene and Linda in unison.

“So, let me tell you a secret of my own,” announced Samantha, “I masturbate. Actually, I masturbate a lot. Every opportunity I get. I know it’s kind of disobedient, but I like to tempt myself. I get myself all hot and horny and then I do it.”

“Yes,” said Jasmine excitedly.

“And when I masturbate, I think about all the kissing I want to do.”

“I wanted to kiss Peter,” said Louise in a sheepish voice.

The girls giggled.

“That’s cool,” said Samantha, “Peter, do you mind if Louise kisses you?”

“Okay,” answered Peter, equally sheepishly.

“Now?” asked Louise.

“You can do it now or later … up to you both,” said Samantha.

Louise kissed Peter on the cheek. It was no more than a peck.

“That’s not a kiss,” said Jasmine, “If I want to kiss a girl, is that okay?”

“When you masturbate, do you think about girls or boys?” asked Samantha.

“I think about both. Sometimes it’s a nice boy and sometimes … it’s you,” confessed Jasmine.

“Me? You want to kiss me?”

“Yes. But not a peck. I want to kiss your open mouth. It makes me very hot thinking about it,” continued Jasmine.

Samantha did not wait for another invitation. She quickly swept Jasmine up into her arms and their mouths connected. Samantha pocked her tongue into the mouth of the child and was happy to feel her reciprocate. They kissed for what seemed ages.

“That was hot,” said Linda.

“Well. Remember, we don’t tell anyone about what we say or do here in Sunday School. Next week, we can talk more about incest. But when you get home. Maybe you can experiment … kissing with your younger brothers and sisters. You must not do it in front of your parents … and warn them, if they say anything, that the Devil will get them.”

The children laughed. They all seemed to like their new Sunday School and for Samantha, this was just the beginning.


Henry and Samantha had both washed and changed for bed. It had been a long day, but Samantha had been truly inspired by the events at Sunday School. She was feeling horny and desperately needed to be fucked. Instead of her regular dull and shapeless nightgowns, she chose to wear something translucent that showed off her petite figure. She had thought about dressing like a wayward nun with a set of demon horns to punctuate the ‘demonic’ aspects of her sexual desires, but she thought that Henry may freak out. It was a little too soon for him. She needed to up the ante … more kink, more oral, maybe something involving urination. She’d love that. To get Henry to urinate over her, while she masturbates … all in good time.

Henry was wearing his spectacles and was propped up with pillows as he settled into reading scriptures. Samantha dimmed the lights and looked at him in front across the bedroom.

“Do you like my outfit, Henry?”

He looked up from the heavy book and stared at her.

“It’s nice. A bit revealing don’t you think for a pastor’s wife?”

“Maybe, you shouldn’t be a pastor tonight then. Maybe you should be a disobedient boy, looking for a hot fuck?”

Talking dirty seemed to have a reaction with Henry. This a side of Samantha he obviously had not seen. Did he like it? Samantha was not sure. She pressed on.

“My cunt is very wet. Get undressed and kneel before me.”

Henry did exactly as she asked. His cock looked rock hard and Samantha noticed the wetness at his crown. Wet with pre-cum. He was very excited.

“So you do like what you see?”

Henry nodded.

“Masturbate for me. Rub that delicious big cock of yours, while I play with myself.”

She could see his inner struggle. He wanted to do as she suggested, but his deeply felt religious beliefs were just so difficult to overcome.

“Let me see you masturbate Henry. Rub it for me. Rub it fast and hard. Make me want it inside me. Make me want your cum in my cunt.”

Despite himself, his hand did her bidding. As he knelt before her on the bedroom floor, he rubbed his foreskin back and forth … awkwardly at first, but seeing his wife open her legs and masturbate with four fingers, really got him going. Fuck, it felt hot doing this in front of Henry. Fucking stupid Henry. She’d rather fuck Angelique or better still, little Jasmine, but she was enjoying the corruptive nature of her behavior.

“That’s it, stroke that big cock nice a fast. Get it ready for my slimy cunt. I want you to fuck me like a Devil tonight.”

She emphasized the word ‘Devil’ as she knew it would be pejorative in his vocabulary. But she was surprised that it seemed to trigger him, spurring his masturbatory efforts further. His breathing was shallow and loud. Without a further word, she sank herself down onto his cock as he groaned in pleasure.

“Fuck me like the Devil.”


The following night, Samantha, once again wore the outfit of a temptress. This time she wore something more explicit that exposed her nipples and her pouting labia. Henry was half expecting something to happen, as she had now lost the element of surprise. Or so it seemed. Once again, she told him to strip naked before her and to masturbate himself. He complied completely, this time there was no hesitation. The events of the previous night were obvious in his mind, as his cock was already hard and dripping by the time their activities had begun.

“You like your dirty little slut? You like her dirty wet cunt?” Samantha paraded around him as she played with herself.

Henry genuinely seemed to like the attention, he just nodded and said nothing to the contrary. His fist was a blur as he played with himself in unison with his perverse lover. Samantha now stood directly over him and pulled her cunt lips wider.

“Lick me, you bastard. Lick your succubus goddess!”

Henry looked upwards. There was a spark of what appeared to be surprise, maybe an unexpected anxiety, in his eyes. He’d never done anything like this before. The commanding tone of his wife left no option but to comply. He leaned forward and kissed her wet cunt, his tongue feverishly went to work between her parted labia, licking out the girl-juices and pressing the flatness of his tongue against her engorged clitoris.

“FUCK! That’s it! FUCKER! Lick me there! Lick me there!” groaned Samantha in her succubus role-play.

Samantha grabbed his hair, almost tearing it at the root as she violently face-fucked Henry like there was no tomorrow. Her hips ground against him as she expressed herself in one continuous groaning sound.

“Gggrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …!”

Having cum once. She regained her balance. Henry’s face was covered in girl cum. She knelt down next to him and kissed his mouth. She could taste herself on him. It was like kissing Angelique’s cunt. She licked and sucked at her own juices — all the time Henry was awestruck.


Samantha made sure that from this point on, she’d work on Henry’s venality like her life depended upon it. At every opportunity, she indulged him with masturbatory pleasures and oral gratification – sucking him off until he blasted his cum into her mouth before almost every mass. She meant for it to be addictive. Henry accepted this … and seemed to reciprocate his whore succubus every night; looking forward to new delights like an obsession. Samantha confided all her activities with Angelique, who waited in the wings … maybe Samantha could talk the priest into a threesome? Maybe not yet. She encouraged Henry to bring the sacramental wine to the bedroom. She was particularly blasphemous that night.

“Tonight my Priest Boy (her new pet name for Henry) …” she demanded, as they both took turns swigging from the open bottle of sacramental wine, “I need to be bathed in golden love.”

She was sure that Henry wouldn’t understand what she meant. She didn’t care. It was all about her. He was just a prop in her perverse little sex game. She continued to pour the red wine over her naked breasts and down the front of her cunt lips. She undulated her hips provocatively, inviting Henry to lick her in the most intimate of places. Henry looked a little apprehensive but still went along for the ride.

“Come Priest Boy, drink from your Unholy Succubus Whore!” she commanded in no uncertain terms.

Henry complied, grinning gingerly as he began to suck greedily upon Samantha’s wine-soaked nipples. He groveled in her sticky cleavage and then drank the red fluids as they ran down over her stomach and into the crevice of her cunt hole. The bed sheets were already wrecked. Samantha purred and continued to pour more of the sweet sticky fluid over herself. Henry was obviously more drunk than she was. He grunted in his efforts as he did her sacrilegious bidding. Samantha wanted to have some semblance of control over the unsuspecting Henry so that she could achieve her perverted agenda. Now, lying on her back as she finger-fucked herself.

“I’m thirsty Priest Boy! It’s my turn to drink wine,” cried Samantha.

“I think I drank it all?” answered Henry meekly.

The scattered bottles of sacramental wine lay empty on the bedroom floor.

“I want your wine … I want golden wine … Come now Priest Boy … I need my christening in your blasphemous golden piss …” Samantha pressed against his lower abdomen, “Piss all over me Priest Boy … empty your bloated bladder and piss in my mouth!”

‘I … I … I can’t …” he stuttered.

Was he shocked or lost for words at her unexpected request? Whatever it was, he was also too drunk to really be able to really resist her nasty bequests. She pressed again and the flow of warm piss splashed over her. She grabbed his cock and directed the dark yellow urine into her open mouth. Henry looked on, appalled with both himself and her pervertedness. Samantha grinned broadly, allowing the piss to flow out the sides of her mouth and over her chest whilst swallowing most of his salty waste.

“FUCK YER! That’s it Priest Boy worship the Devil’s Succubus!”


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