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: So this is part three. Thanks again to Shellshock for his narrative outline for this interesting blasphemous story. I hope you like my treatment and storytelling. As in the previous chapters, please 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 in the posts section for anyone interested in submitting a similar proposal. 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: 18.09.2018 / REVISITED: 20.10.2023

Requiem Of Sins 4


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 10th or 11th 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 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. It is going to be a battle of good and evil. Sister Alice has been send to the continent to join a very select group within the Ministry, who have been tasked to stop the rising tide of satanic influence. The evidence of evil is everywhere, especially among the rich and powerful. Led by the infamous Father Ambrosio and his resolute lieutenant, Sister Jessica; they have no idea that Sister Alice has sided with the forces of darkness and intends to derail their plans to cleanse their kingdom of the pervasive evil that seeks to pollute and corrupt. In the process, the zealots have captured a witch, called the Raven, who seems to be a significant occult figure with information about the cabal, that will be essential for Father Ambrosio’s plans to succeed. They turn to Sister Alice for help in interrogating the witch. But, unbeknownst to them, Sister Alice and the Raven have already collude. They have seduced Sister Mary Ann using preternatural and sexual influences; and soon others will follow. Sister Alice also seizes the opportunity to strike an alliance with the satanic cabal, to bring finality to Father Ambrosio’s efforts for God’s justice.


Sister Alice studied the pages of the Libra Diabolica Sexualis with gleeful interest. Always masturbating furiously. She recognized a drawing of the powerful artifact called the Amulet of Az. This rare amulet was supposed to contain the spirit of a hermaphroditic lust demon. It dated back to the time of the old kingdom of Persia. She connected the mention of the Amulet of Az to how Father Ambrosio had boasted about the seizure of many highly-prized pieces of demonic jewelry that they had taken from fallen cabalists. One such piece, he had described as a necklace designed in the form of an heavy amulet containing a deep purple crystal with a silver setting.

The Requiem of Sins described the amulet having the power to transform its wearer. This sparked Sister Alice’s interest. But there was also a warning that, as the dark crystal contained the spirit of the lust demon, it was prone to be volatile, unpredictable and very dangerous – this spirit could even take possession of body of its wearer and its evil may only be controlled by a counter-spell. Sister Alice imagined what she could do with such a power.

Could it be the same amulet? There would be only one way to find out.


Father Ambrosio had returned to the Convent of St. Wolfgang.

He was weary from his travels but the good news had lifted his mood. While he’d been away, there had been some progress with the interrogation of the Witch Raven. That damnable woman. She was a succubus. But miraculously, the evil witch had been, somehow, tricked into providing Sister Mary-Ann with essential information about the satanic cabalists. All those ancient books; all those years of ungodly research, could it have led to this breakthrough? Incredible. A gift from heaven no doubt. He was renewed in his faith. Hallelujah and praise the heavens. God was on their side and they would avenge those who had suffered at the hands of these evil devils.

He afforded himself a glimpse of a smile – be it a small one. He knew evil. He had seen evil. He had fought evil all his life. The devils hid in plain sight. He had felt it, though he could not prove it and to go against them without the proof would be a mistaken. There were those who hid behind the pretense of being the cities’ beacons of righteousness. Evil lurked there. He was sure. He’d witnessed the innocent being transformed into lust demons. They outwardly gave alms for the poor; whilst secretly they conducted their wickedness – their orgies of sin and corruption.

Masturbating, fornicating, and blaspheming. His anger grew. The knew all about their coprophilia, human sacrifice and pedophilia. For God’s sake — they eat of the flesh of sacrificed babies; the preyed on the weak and helpless. They committed crimes against God and against all that was holy. They drank blood and semen; and performed unnatural acts, sodomy, necrophilia, and even genital decapitation.

Father Ambrosio had zealously used the power of God and the Holy Spirit to bring innocence back from hell with his exorcisms and his holy rites. But there existed a pervasive evil, a darkness that simply needed to be destroyed. He had known that evil before – he’d felt its presence among known persons. They were the satanic cabalists. Yes, evil men and women who were in league with Lucifer. They had sold their souls for earthly wishes. He needed to catch the in the act of committing these awful atrocities in the name of their dark demons. Pan. Belphegor. Baal. Ashtaroth. Moloch. Shiva. Aosoth. Vetis. Zepar. Behemoth. Hecate. Lilith.

He had his suspicions, but a move against those, with riches and power, would have solved nothing without the proof of the evil doings – he needed irrefutable proof. Then he’d have them where he wanted them. Information was power. He’d send them all back to hell.


Sister Alice and Sister Mary-Ann made their way to the secretive storeroom. It was even larger than Sister Alice had imagined. Sister Alice had overheard them boast about its content. They’d sometimes described it as being a cornucopia of evil. There was supposedly a huge collection of bizarre tools dedicated to the art of exorcism and demon-hunting. They’d mentioned many strange artifacts and treasures that had been either found, captured, stolen or confiscated during Father Ambrosio’s campaigns against the forces of darkness — one of which sounded like the the Amulet of Az.

Once inside Sister Alice felt the tingling of all things evil.

Her cunt was immediately horny, open and wet. Sister Mary-Ann looked on with morbid interest as Sister Alice searched along the many shelves until she finally found what she was looking for. It appeared to be as the Libra Diabolica Sexualis had described it. The Amulet of Az looked benign, even beautiful. She picked up the heavy crystal and held it up to the light. It was set in a distinctive silver clasp and chain, and its crystalline gem resembled a long dark purple stone that had a distinctive iridescence about it.

“Is that what you have been looking for?” asked Sister Mary-Ann.

“I’m not sure.”

“What exactly does it do?”

“It is said to contain a magic power.”

She twisted it in the dull light.

“How do you know these things?”

“I read about it. The ancient books describe it. The stone has the power to protect its bearer,” she lied.

Not wanting to share anything further with her dubious accomplice and without explaining any further, Sister Alice turned to leave.


The four evil cabalists knelt together in silent medieval prayer. All demons of lust. Each of them stood at a point of the inverted pentagon. They hung their heads. Their breathing was slightly labored with excitement and anticipation. They occasionally glanced up at one another but said nothing. The cabalists each wore a long black silken gown that draped to the ground surrounding their bare feet.

The parlor fireplace cracked and its bright orange light illuminated their wicked ritual. A light plume of purplish smoke filled the chamber with a pungent odor. There was an eerie kind of music too, that seemed to echo from an unknown source – its cacophonous disharmony seemed to draw closer to a climactic grating.

Across the center of the pentagon-ed floor, lying limply, was a pretty preteen boy. The boy sobbed quietly to himself. His abuse was obvious, as his tiny body was covered in bruises, cuts, and welts. He looked confused and dazed. His weak small body twisted against its restraints that pulled painfully as the course rope bit into the delicate skin of his waifish wrists and ankles.

At the North-West point of Satan’s symbol was Thomas Fischer, a nobleman at the heart of local politics and power – there was nothing of importance that escaped his attention, and his standing within the highest of courts was second to none. He was noble among those who called themselves noble. He was also a man that many feared. His power could be palpable. There were a few undercurrents that pointed toward the possibilities of his hand in the timely removal of political opponents by untoward means. But nothing could ever be proven.

Thomas lifted a large silver challis filled with a bubbling liquid. he drank from its draft and then handed to Natasha.

In the North-East was Natasha Milkailov. Natasha was stunningly beautiful. Her mixed blood gave no true inclination of her ancestry. Where had she come from? She was a woman shrouded in sensual secrecy; firstly as it was said that her personal wealth was fathomless; and secondly, though her stirring looks were said to be so seductive that any man (or woman or child) would fall under her wicked spell, it was rumored she was over a hundred years old (a very real preternatural possibility).

Natasha quivered as she drank and then passed the heavy challis to Leon.

At the South-West was Leon Moser, a black-skinned merchant trader and purveyor of exotic delicacies and tastes. His tattooed face accented his sinister appearance. He was as truly wicked as he appeared. It was by reputation that, for a price, there was nothing than Leon could not procure be it rare and exotic; fine liquors and spirits, life-extending spices, even peculiar prostitutes to any taste, be they very young or exotic, male or female or even something in between.

Leon gloated at the young boy before him. He drank greedily, sipping over the thin rim of the silver vessel. He groaned as the immediate surge of arousal and malicious sexual energy seemed to overcome him momentarily. He reluctantly gave up the challis to Horace.

The last was Horace Von Muller in the South-East. Queer Horace as they sometimes called him behind his learned back. Horace was highly effeminate and androgynous in his appearance, a cross-dresser and flamboyant queer who was also an erudite. Some say he possessed a photographic memory. His scholarly knowledge of literature was only eclipsed by what was rumored to be an aberrant interest in the mystics of the occult and even black magic.

The South point of the inverted pentagon remained conspicuously empty, as the Raven still remained missing.

Leon’s black fingers tingled as he rubbed the strange purplish-grey ointment over the boy’s flaccid genitals. Within seconds the small boy’s penis reluctantly filled with the rush of blood, bringing him once again to an unsought erection.

The young boy resisted and groaned hopelessly. Over several days now their sacrifice had already been subjected to numerous sessions of torment and sexualized torture and now it was time to make yet another offering for the glory of their god, Satan.

“Christ be fucked!” said Thomas.

He lured with bright white teeth and then slipped open his long black gown again as he positioned himself between the boy’s quivering thighs.

“No more. Please no more!” begged the boy, semi-hypnotized by Thomas’ piercing eyes.

The boy’s comprehension of the situation had long passed. The meaningless torment seemed to never end.

Leon grasped the boy’s thin bony thighs mercilessly, digging his sharpened fingernails into the soft tenderness of the boy’s inadequate flesh. Leon’s thick-veined cock throbbed with malicious desire and dripped with clear fluids, as he began to rub the wet mushroomed crown directly against the lubricated anus of the groaning boy.

“No more. Please,” the boy cried as his own loins began to tremble.

“Open your eyes, fucker! Look at me. Look at me!” said Natasha.

Natasha now opened her silken gown. She ran her long elegant fingers sensually through her thick raven-black hair, down her porcelain neck, and over her clavicles. She then gripped and groped, with both hands, the pale white flesh of her ample breasts — squeezing them harder and harder and then rolled the tips of her rigid white nipples between her finger. She quivered with her own wickedness.

“Aren’t I the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” she mocked.

The nefarious succubus, Natasha, then moved closer to the boy’s head. It rolled from side-to-side, as he continued to wail. Natasha spat across the desecrated crucifix (that smelt of her cunt) and then held the inverted cross closely above the young boy’s watering eyes. Natasha’s fingers found their mark as she pressed them between her hairy crotch and began to feverishly rub against the pouting neb of her oversized pieced and erect clitoris.

“Inverted Jesus,’ she began smiling triumphantly.

“Please stop. Please let me go.” cried the boy, his voice weakened by days without sleep.

His voice was no more than a whisper, from the accumulation of sexual torment and suffering. The other cabalists continued to chant in unison as they each opened their silken black gowns, all now frantically masturbating their engorged cocks in rhythm with their evil prays.

Horace grunted and lent across the boy’s vulnerable lithe body and began to rub his tiny boy penis between his thumb and forefinger. The boy tried to escape Horace’s eager grasp, but he was too exposed.

“Inverted Jesus. Unholiness awakening, Cocks and cunt poised for the ravening. The crucifix smells of cunt, Take the life of this worthless runt.”

The bruised and battered body of the small boy-child twisted and turned. His tiny soprano voice cried for their leniency, but no pension could change the outcome. Thomas stood up and held his throbbing cock as he pressed down on his aching bladder as he began to pee over the little one’s prostate body, hosing him down in his acrid-smelling urine.

“Baptized now is a tool of hate, Covered in urine, blood, and ejaculate. Lusting sin and death, the cross makes us cum, Endless satanic lust to ours, succumb.”

Horace grunted as his queer cock ejaculated directly over the child’s face. Unable to protect his open eyes, Horace’s thick creamy semen quickly filled the boy’s nostrils and eye sockets.

“To you we destroy innocence with wrath, Lusting sin, and death’s bloodbath. Once used in the praise of god, so civil, Now perverted for the glory of the Devil.”

Leon moaned with evil passion as he pressed his cock harder against the boy’s battered poop hole. His cock felt the extreme tightness of the boy’s tiny rectum as he pressed through his well-oiled sphincter. There was literally a pop and Leon’s cock slid in deeper. The boy screamed painfully at the intrusion but was too weak to fight against Leon’s aggressive forward motion.

Pressed to the hilt, Leon’s tight testicles pushed against the boy’s.

Natasha positioned her hot wet cunt over the boy’s face, pressing her disdained vaginal lips directly over the boy’s screaming mouth.

“Oh, perverted for the glory of the Devil,” she muttered as she choked off his nose and mouth, smothered by her extremely hairy cunt.

Urine poured from her urethra, as she continued to viciously rub back and forth against the boy’s lower face — drowning his childish groans in her sourish yellow fluids.



Sister Alice held Sister Mary-Ann’s hand tightly as they sat quietly in the quietness of the private tower chapel. Far above the convent, the narrow slit windows of the chapel gave an excellent view of the vista across the great lake. But Sister Mary-Ann’s eyes were too filled with tears to appreciate the scenery. She hung her head in shame.

“What are we going to do? How are we going to explain what happened to the girl?” asked Sister Mary-Ann.

“We are not going to try. You must tell Father Ambrosio that we have found the hidden temple of the secret cabal.”

Sister Mary-Ann was still shaking. She looked as if she was about to vomit.

“You will tell him that we must move swiftly. If we are to catch them — the window of opportunity is very small, as they have plans to offer a sacrifice, and this will make them vulnerable to exposure. Sister Jessica will not have time to join the mission and it will be I that will lead the other sisters. Do you understand?”

Sister Mary-Ann wiped her eyes.

“This is a glorious moment.”

Sister Mary-Ann began to cry again.

“B-B-But, at what cost?”

Sister Alice smiled to herself. Yes, there had been a cost, a terrible cost. Her cunt immediately soaked at the thought of their demonic offering. Delicious. Perverted. The smell, the sight of such completely evil depravity. Her first human sacrifice. Hail Satan.

“What we did was absolutely necessary.”

“It was evil,” replied the sobbing nun.

“What is the fate of one insignificant young girl, to the lives of the dozens that will be snuffed out by these evil doers.”

“I just feel sick.”

Yes, Sister Alice thought. Lie to yourself. Your self-deceit is your undoing. There is a demon within you. I witnessed your perverted excitement. You enjoyed every moment of it and now you cowl in your sinful regret. It’s just too late. Sister Alice smothered the urge to laugh, instead, she said nothing about it and just continued to comfort the corrupted nun. Sister Mary-Ann had participated fully in their perverted playtime. They had first brought the young girl, Zoe, to the underbelly of the darkened chambers below the twisted church (that had truly been conceived and built to the Devil’s design).

Though the young girl had escaped the clutches of satanic abuse once before, this time, Sister Alice and the Witch Goddess Raven were to make sure she suffered for this. For their mutual pleasure. Of course, the girl’s fate would be properly revealed, at the appropriate time, and Sister Mary-Ann would be seen as the sole perpetrator of this sick perverted mischief (if their plan became delayed or derailed. Sister Mary-Ann would be the scapegoat).

Sister Alice bit her lower lip as she recalled her craving.


“Can we go back? I don’t like it down here. It’s creepy and dark,” said the young girl, Zoe.

“No Zoe, remember we said that God has a plan for everyone; and this is all part of his plan for you my dear,” said Sister Alice (unconvincingly, as if she’d dropped the need to pretend anymore).

“Please! You’re hurting me,” the young girl replied as Sister Alice’s grip on her arm became a little too forceful.

“Maybe we should turn back?” asked Sister Mary-Ann.

“No, my good Sister. God’s glorious plan demands a sacrifice. An offering for his pleasure. We must do what must be done,” insisted Sister Alice.

They had reached the somber basement and passed the cell that had once held the cabalist witch as their prisoner and continued deeper and further into the infernal labyrinth. The darkened corridor twisted and turned until they finally reached a long bare wall of heavy stones. The wall looked archaic but nonetheless impenetrable.

Sister Alice opened her black gown. She was naked beneath. She held her arms aloft and knelt down.

“Give me your rosary,” she demanded.

The nun reluctantly passed her the long chain of smooth round beads.

“O Satanas Satanam aliosque meo: et ego veni sacrificium — male tuum portas aperire, ut sit tibi fornicabitur (Oh Satan, my Satan, I come with sacrifice — open thy evil gates, so that we may fornicate before you).”

Sister Alice began to press the beads one by one into her wet vagina.

“O Satanas Satanam aliosque meo: et ego veni sacrificium …”

As she repeated her corruptive prayer over and over. Young Zoe watched it with abject horror — at the sight of such an aberrant act of sacrilege.

“O Satanas Satanam aliosque meo: et ego veni sacrificium …”

Finally, with all the beads stuffed inside her buttery vagina and only the small crucifix hanging outwardly against her moist labia, the heavy stones of the solid wall before them started to vibrate. An eerie light seemed to pierce through the ancient masonry of the wall that had been laid by the Devil himself. Then the stones themselves began to agitate of their own demonic accord.

“What’s happening?” asked Sister Mary-Ann.

“Be silent!” cried Sister Alice.

The stones began to grind heavily against one other as they became increasingly animated until eventually, they started to move apart as they formed a narrow vaginal-shaped opening; exposing an eerie darkened antechamber beyond.

“O Satanas, benedicat peccatis nostris in sanguine, et vere magna satanas sexus (Oh Satan, great Satan, bless our sins with blood and perverted sex).”

“I’m … not going … in there!” stuttered the young girl.

She was now struggling with all her might against Sister Alice’s iron grip.

“Shut up and get inside,” said Sister Alice impatiently.

She pushed the little runt inside the vaginal opening, then Sister Alice entered, blocking any chance of escape. Sister Mary-Ann followed closely behind as they all stepped inside the secret room. Once the three of them had entered, the grinding of stone against stone accompanied the closing of the wall. Sister Alice removed her clothing completely.

Raven stood before the ugly stone altar. She was almost silhouetted against the flames of torches that hung from the slimy damp walls. As the two corrupt nuns and their reluctant young sacrifice approached; they could all clearly see that the Raven was completely naked except for the fierceness of a salvage-horned mask that covered her upper face (but not her mouth). Her body seemed to shimmer in the naked flames of the torches with an oiled wetness.

‘Let me go. Let me go!” cried the struggling young girl.

Sister Alice still held her firmly, though there was in fact nowhere to run to.


Sister Mary-Ann watched, awestruck, as the wall of heavy stones parted. A hole formed in the shape of a cunt. It was a miracle like Moses parting the Red Sea. Though wondrous in its preternatural way, it was still darkly evil. She had heard all the stories about the bizarre origins and the history behind the supposed creation of this strange structure. It was without doubt the design of demons — the darkly wicked architecture of hell itself. Seeing these metaphysical wonders reminded her of her own precious morality.

Was there time to leave this place? To run away? Was she so corrupted by her own conjurings that the Lord had forsaken her? Had she pretended so long, that she was lost in her own mischievousness? She was reminded that it had been their Patron Saint, St. Wolfgang himself, who had tricked the Devil here. Was it too much to expect that Sister Alice and her, could trick this evil Witch Raven into giving up her cabalist conspirators? Faith is sometimes blind — she must go forward, she must!

“Take off your clothing Sister,” ordered Sister Alice.

She was already completely naked and now touching herself between her open legs — sinfully masturbating herself vigorously without any shred of religious guilt.

Sister Mary-Ann dared not look too far into the dark, incense-perfumed depths of the secret sex chamber, but looking at the waifish young nun with her flat boyish chest, dark nipples, and hairless vagina, brought only more sinful Sapphic butterflies in Sister Mary-Ann’s stomach. There was sexual electricity between them all — Sister Alice, The Raven, herself … and the young girl.

Sister Mary-Ann shyly stripped naked as she was told. Her own slender Asian physique made Sister Alice grin and lick her lips in encouragement as she held up a strange dark amulet.

“For you. Hail Satan,” said Sister Alice.

Sister Mary-Ann’s body twitched as Sister Alice placed the heavy amulet around her slender Asian neck. The sights and sounds intensified. She could now hear the leathery wings of many succubi, beating their ancient tribal calling for the satanic offering. It seemed to intensify her overwhelming desires for the dangerous and demonic.

Sister Alice beckoned her to come forward to where the Witch Raven stood before a large flat stone encircled by obscenely carved phallic totems, each topped with the skull of a sacrificed child. Sister Mary-Anne imagined that the scared stone had been worn smooth with thousands of perverted couplings of Sapphic fornication and human sacrifice. She recognized the Raven’s tattooed body, though her face was obscured beneath a rather evil tribal mask. Beads of sweat formed on Sister Mary-Anne’s body as she smelt the profane feminine pheromones that surrounded her. Her fingers tingled as she touched the heavy amulet that Sister Alice had placed around her neck (for her protection).

The fire torches cracked as their red-orange hue intensified. This was a truly evil place. Phallic stalactites and stalagmites morphed in the shape-shifting illumination as the very floor and ceiling of the cavern seemed to move up and down in tune with the sexual rhythm of the Devil’s orgy.

“O Satanas, benedicat peccatis nostris in sanguine, et vere magna satanas sexus,” cried Sister Alice and the Witch Raven in unison.

With their invocation, the heavy crystal amulet around her neck began to purr against her petite cleavage, increasing in heat against her delicate bare skin. The tingling sensation seemed to double; and far too quickly the tingling seemed to travel southwards, beginning to turn into a deep sexual ache that demanded immediate satisfaction. Her cunt lips throbbed and purred with wickedness as the demonic amulet began to take full effect. She could not help but groan out loud with the empowerment of its perverted lewdness.

“Aaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …”

Sister Mary-Ann watched, almost detached, as the Witch Raven and Sister Alice stripped the young girl of her thin white over-shirt so that all were now completely naked like the rest of them. She looked on eagerly at the sight of her young innocent body, flat chest, and pinkish pussy. Sister Mary-Ann felt excited like never before. Her mind was filled with sexual maliciousness.

Thoughts of raping the small girl were something so aberrant that it defied her rational understanding – yet her cunt dripped insanely with a juicy wetness that left her labia prickling and her erect clitoris fat with the rush of blood as it pocked out beyond its delicate skin sheath. She couldn’t help it — she subconsciously touched herself as she stared carnivorously at the young girl as she was pulled over the flatness of the stone, held down on one side by the Witch Raven and on the other side by Sister Alice.

She remembered the amulet — she hoped Sister Alice was right about its protective qualities. Sister Alice and Raven looked over at her as if trembling in the evil illumination.

“Yes, YES! HAIL SATAN! … It’s beginning to work! HAIL SATAN!” cried Sister Alice excitedly.

Sister Mary-Ann hand met a strangely fleshy neb that seemed to have emerged from above her open, wet cunt. The neb was supposed to be her clitoris, but was far bigger and seemed to be pressing outwards. As it grew, so did the orgasmic pleasuring that Sister Mary-Ann felt touching it.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!” she groaned.

She could not help but close her fingers around her deformed clit that had now taken the shape, size, and form of something like a man’s erect penis.


Sister Mary-Ann looked down at herself. Disbelieving, but accepting everything, as one would except a dream.


She rubbed its deformed girth. Her hand glided up and down its slimy length. Bigger now than any man. Bigger and bigger. She wrapped her fingers around this demonic appendage and began to thrust her fist up and down it.

“AAGHHHHHHHH!” she groaned.

Lost in perverted pleasure.

Transforming? Sister Mary-Ann wasn’t sure what to she thought. The feeling was incredible. Oh, demonic joys. Oh! FUCK CHRIST! FUCK JESUS. Transforming? Isn’t that what Sister Alice had said? Transforming into what? Jolts of pleasure shot through her body as she tried to retain some resemblance of power over herself. But she was losing it fast. In a last-ditch effort to maintain her composure, despite overwhelming pleasure, Sister Mary-Ann went to take off the Amulet of Az — to somehow slow down or reverse its transformative effects.

“No, No, you must do its bidding!” ordered the Witch.

She couldn’t take off the amulet, even if she wanted to. The demonic spirit had already flowed into her corrupted body. It was inside of her. It was now part of her. She was it. Demon-nun and nun-demon. The same. She was lost to it and she knew it … Like a passenger or spectator watching from the wings. She was now the sex demon’s puppet. Like an empty vessel, no more, no less.

The sex demon grunted and climbed across the warm flat stone towards the naked child.

“NO … LEAVE ME ALONE … STOP … GET AWAY FROM ME …” cried the girl as she stared at what was left of Sister Mary-Ann.

The sex demon grabbed the young child’s legs and held them wide as it pressed the fleshy neb of its shecock against the reluctant opening of the young girl’s slit.


There was a brief moment of silence. As if time had stopped …


“Tandem liber sum (I am free at last),” cried the sex demon as it now stood at the edge of the smooth stone altar.

Its eight inches of clit flesh seemed to ooze a creaminess. Its obscenely veined girth curved upwards from immediately above Sister’s Mary-Ann cunt lips. It grinned with sadistic pleasure at the young offering brought forward to appease it. The hermaphroditic spirit rubbed its host’s part Asian breasts, squeezing and pinching her pronounced brown nipples.

Sister Alice looked on excitedly.

The demon’s hands ran down over its rib cage and hips, drawing a slow breath, until finally, the demon gripped its own pulsating phallus. Copious fluids dripped from its fat mushroom head and the demon effortlessly sprang upward, landing silently upon the stone bedrock. Its eyes were yellowish with a redness at their core.

“TAKE HER!” cried the Witch Raven.

Again, the sex demon grinned with perfect white teeth. Its pointed incisors gleamed as a long forked tongue slipped over the young girl’s hairless mons.

“Errrrrhhh … Don’t! Don’t touch me. STAY AWAY!” cried the incoherent Zoe.

“Fuck yer,” Sister Alice gleefully yelped at the youngster’s abject terror.

“Help mec … help mec … helppppppppp!”

It seemed that the child’s nightmarish fear was making Sister Alice’s cunt juice up like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Exhilarated, Sister Alice slapped the face of the crying child — adding to Zoe’s suffering.

“O Satanas, benedicat peccatis nostris in sanguine, et vere magna satanas sexus,” chanted the two evil brethren.

The sex demon continued its onslaught, licking the struggling girl’s slit and anus over and over as it positioned itself between her shaking thighs. Its preternatural tongue was long and forked and burrowed into the child’s bowels.

Sister Alice watched and masturbated faster and faster and faster. She prayed, thrusting her agile fingers as deep as she could into her hot wet snatch.


She grimaced as she reached orgasmic peak after peak — cumming over and over at the sight of their first human sacrifice.

The demon’s appendage moved, with a mind of its own, like a predatory snake, curving upwards and forwards towards its unfortunate prey. In no time, the sex demon was mounting her — pressing its anaconda-like phallus between her tiny bald slit. The sliminess seemed to assist with its easy passage into the interior of the girl’s immature sexual organs – but its sheer length and girth quickly filled her tiny virgin cavity to capacity as it reached the girl’s physical limits.

“HAIL! HAIL!” cried Sister Alice and the Witch Raven.

It was humanly impossible for the girl’s body to accommodate, but this was no human condition. It was preternatural. Though, more and more of the demon’s she-cock entered her, soon the girl’s petite body convulsed in torturous agony.

Her mouth was twisted in a silent scream as the bulge of her impalement pressed outwards from the interior of her flesh. Her head bobbed and lulled uncontrollably; and then began to swing back and forth as her tiny body danced limply, dangled from the end of the monster phallus. The succubus grunted in demonic pleasure and paid no heed to her condition, as its thrusting only continued to increase in ferocity as it fucked her body, harder and harder and faster and faster.


Sister Alice continued to orgasm over and over — each cum stronger than the next.

“ME TOO! AAAGGGHHHHH …” echoed the Witch Raven.

They both groaned in debauched pleasure and screamed louder with each wave of demonic pleasure. Sister Alice could now clearly see the ugly fat mushroom shape of the demon’s cock-head moving inside the girl’s body as it pressed beyond her internals. Its huge phallic shape, obvious from the way that it protruded beneath her tight abdomen, pressed outwards stretching further against the girl’s translucent skin with every thrust.


The Witch’s fingers moved with blurred speed, thrusting in and out of herself to match that of the demon, as it raped the innocent child.


She was excited beyond her wildest of perverted dreams.



Sister Alice folded the letter and pressed it into the envelope. She poured the red liquid across the back and pressed the cabal seal into the slowly congealing wax. The seal was authentic. Yes, she thought, all the confiscated materials that the priest had acquired were proving to be invaluable in the wicked Sister’s quest.

With the Raven’s instructions, the letter was to be discretely delivered to Ms. Natasha Milkailov. Ms. Milkailov would know exactly what to do with the letter’s contents. A plan within a plan within a plan.

Sister Alice weighed the envelope in her hands. Such a powerful thing lay across her palm. It would bring about the end of Father Ambrosio’s campaign against the demons. The Sisterhood would fail. Hail Satan! Hail the Baphomet! The church would be damned. Evil would prevail. The knowledge of such a thing only excited Sister Alice back to the point of orgasm as she recalled the sacrifice. Sweet, sweet sacrifice. The first of many, she hoped.



Father Ambrosio’s expression said that his hopes had been lifted.

“We’ve got them. We’ve finally got the bastards.”

“Well, not quite yet,” added Sister Alice, ”Knowing their whereabouts is only the first step. You want to catch them in the act, right? You need the proof of their wickedness to expose them and flush them out once and for all?”

‘Yes. Yes. Yes. I know that I am getting ahead of myself. Amen …” the Father even affording himself a smile.

“Amen,” replied Sister Alice.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you did. Getting that evil bitch to talk was a real breakthrough,” complimented Father Ambrosio.

“It was all Sister Mary-Ann’s doing,” falsely praised Sister Alice.

Sister Mary-Ann looked up guiltily.

“Just doing the Lord’s work,” she said sheepishly.

“Then, we must get moving then. This opportunity is God Blessed! Hail Mary!” announced Father Ambrosio, “Call, Sisters Rachel and Edith — we leave anon.”

“But what about Sister Jessica?” asked Sister Alice.

She knew that the Warrior Sister was otherwise occupied. Father Ambrosio would be forced to take Sister Alice with the others – such was the plan between Sister Alice, Witch Raven (and soon Natasha Milkailov).

“This cannot wait for Sister Jessica. You will have to lead us, Sister Alice,” said Father Ambrosio.

“Me?” replied Sister Alice (with false surprise and modesty), “Wouldn’t it be best to wait for Sister Jessica to return?” she asked, already knowing the answer to her question.

“No. The demons must not get a chance to slip away. I know they hide in plain sight. They must be exposed and then dealt with. The corruption in our once-great city has become toxic. The rich get richer at the expense of the meek and the innocent. The powerful get away with murder and satanic abuse. We have a real opportunity here to bring them all down. Once and for all. This is what the Bishop has asked of us. It is our duty before God Almighty. Our Holy quest. We must act swiftly and mercilessly.”

“Yes, Father!” Sister Alice, falsely agreed.

“Their wickedness has gripped our people for far too long. If my suspicions are right and we move against them now, catching them in the act, their days will be numbered.” Father Ambrosio’s fists were tightly clenched, “Ah, Sister Edith, Sister Rachel. Make ready my holy weapons.”


Natasha Milkailov admired her own beauty in her reflection. She was beautiful. She smiled at her ‘secret’ self. God be damned. She was so fucking horny tonight. But then again, she was always horny. Her cunt was constantly wet and slick with oily sex secretions. Yes, evil made her so fucking excited.

She drank from the vile of reddish liquid — the essence that sustained her. Her secret elixir, of sorts. She will live forever! Hail Satan! Hail Baphomet! Hail Lilith! The viscus fluid slid hotly down her gullet. Life eternal. Her cunt continued to purr. Yes. She needed a good hard fuck in all her eager holes. She was Satan’s whore. She desperately needed more demonic cock. Only the most debauched and perverted sex could ever satisfy her. Praise the Devil. Praise Baal. Praise Moloch! Hail. Hail.

Though tonight, she was expecting company.

“Come in, Nelson. Make our special guest welcome,” she said to her slim manservant.


Nelson was a tall, but quite an effeminate man. A queer fuck. Thin, pale and waifish. Yes, he loved young boys (the younger the better). Sacred sodomy upon the altar of the phallus. Cock sucking. Endless cock-sucking. He’d once been a devout Catholic priest, in the fold of the pedophile church. A breeding ground for sex perverts, pedophiles, and sadists. But now he preferred the life of servitude to Ms. Milkailov. She was also highly perverted and enjoyed many evil sexual delights — here Nelson felt sate. He was never surprised at her antics, but always joyed at satisfying his queer voyeuristic pleasures. Naked young boys with hard little pricks. Violating their naughty pink assholes; ramming against their hard little buttocks. Small hairless ball-sacks. Yes, he loved to watch her. the sexual vampire, drain them of their essences.

Sometimes, Ms. Milkailov would be joined by the others: the satanic cabalists. There was the nobleman, Thomas Fischer; the nigger trader, Leon Moser; the Witch Raven and the cross-dresser, Horace Von Muller. He was not familiar. He kept his distance from the cabalist. They were all wicked. Demons. But Nelson served Her. She was the Queen of the Damned — as he grew older, she remained as beautiful and as youthful as the first day in her employ. He knew she was a demon too and he worshiped her, unreservedly.

“The envoy.” He announced bringing forth a handsome youth. The boy was about 15 years old with smooth white skin. Not a single scar, mark, or blemish.

Nelson bowed, presented her with a sealed envelope, and then brought Natasha’s new guest to her red velvet boudoir. The boy was completely naked and flaccid. Nelson delicately poured the youth a glass of sparking champagne — Natasha only served the most expensive of French champagnes. The bubbles would quickly go to the envoy’s head. His handsome little empty head. She would devour him. She would literally suck his life essence. Nelson was of course attracted to this young man — Natasha smiled in acknowledgement of Nelson’s loyalty and devotion.

Inwardly, he could think of nothing more desirable than to stick his long thin cock into the boy’s dry rectum. A dry and painful fuck for this young one. Urinate inside his anus. A piss-fuck. Yes. Pain was pleasure. Pleasure was pain. It was the never-ending cycle of sexual torment and torture. Maybe slip him a slice of ginger, wedged deep into his anus. Figging before fucking. Sodomy. The Devil’s intercourse.

But outwardly, he played the role of the dutiful manservant so well, despite his annoyingly female mannerisms.


Natasha turned the sealed envelope in her hands and looked at it carefully. The seal was authentic. An older Cabalist signature. But still, one she recognized. An important message that could not wait then? She broke the wax seal and read the content of the letter that had been transcribed in an ancient tongue. One, that Natasha, knew to be only used by those of her faith.

The letter read:

Hail Satan, God of Dark Pleasures.

I write to you Natasha Milkailov with a message of joy. Thine companion, the Witch Raven lives and is safe with me. My name is Alice and I am under the guise of a nun at the Ministry of Father Ambrosio in Wolfgangsee. My true allegiance lies with the Baphomet, the Cock Goddess of Perversity. The end is nigh for Father Ambrosio, for we have laid plans for a trap that will bring him and his followers to their knees before the Cabal. Our plan, herein, sets out how this deed shall be performed. As an affirmation of this accord with our arrangement — I will make a brief visitation.

Thine signal is requested, oh, Queen of the Damned …

The letter went on in some depth about the plan. Natasha nodded to herself. Yes, today was a good day to celebrate her one hundred and thirty-ninth birthday. She looked up over the folded papers.

“Champagne Nelson. Bring me more champagne for we must celebrate the imminent glory of Satan,” she sang.

“Yes, of course, my lady,” answered Nelson and refilled her long-stemmed crystal glass with the bubbling flaxen liquid.

“You may wait,” she commanded Nelson.

It was her way of saying, watch but don’t masturbate.

“So, you are my new envoy?”

Her long white fingers danced upon his sensitive bare thighs, creeping ever closer to his exposed genitalia.

“Bring me the horsewhip, Nelson.”

Pain. Torment. Anguish. Tonight it was to be about the delicious cries of pain, she thought. Blood will be drawn before intercourse.

“Come envoy, don’t be coy,” she swooned.

She generously applied an oily potion to the boy’s genitals, as Nelson momentarily disappeared to do her bidding. Once the potion was applied, his young cock immediately became rampant. Hard and throbbing. Precum collected at its tip. It seemed to move with a life of its own. Animated by her powerful black magic as much as her libidinous sensuality. He would not be able to resist her.

The young buck was hers.

She was what every young boy dreamed of, but she needed more than immature sexual fantasies — she wanted to milk him of his sensual essence. He must ejaculate several times before he would serve his final purpose. Her cunt would siphon the very life from him, much as vampires were said to draw life from blood. Natasha would fuck this young stud, literally to death.

“My Lady. My apologies for my untimely interruption.”

Nelson’s eyes stared shamelessly at the young boy’s erection. He subconsciously licked his lips and handed his Mistress the short leather riding crop.

“We seem to have another visitor. A Sister of the cloth, no less. I told her that you were otherwise occupied. But she insisted that you would be expecting her imminent visitation. Shall I send her away, my Lady?”

“A nun? Sister Alice?”

“Yes my Lady. I believe she said her name was Sister Alice.”


Sister Alice led the way through the dark and cramped ancient crypt. Immediately behind her was Father Ambrosio. He felt hot and claustrophobic. The smell of evil seemed to seep out from the very walls around him. Behind him were Sisters Rachel and Edith, who held the Witch Raven in heavy manacles; and Sister Mary-Anne took up their rear. They were close now. He could feel their evil heat. He could smell their evil stench. This would be a fight to the death. Father Ambrosio wished that he had waited for Sister Jessica, but there had not been enough time.

He’d left word at the convent for her to wait there until their return- for their hopefully triumphant return; after crushing the cabalists and exposing the nest of conspirators that were all in league with the Devil. There could be no mercy. He clutched the weapon of the Lord. A specially prepared cross-bow together with its Holy Blessed arrows. He was well-practiced and never missed his target. He was a true marksman. This was his weapon of choice in these desperate times. The demons of lust must be destroyed, one way or another.

There was a brief moment of blackness. No light. Nothing. He could hear his own breathing. Then there were the screams. Screams from the unseen sisters. Oh my goodness, he thought. It’s a trap. Everything went dark.


Father Ambrosio awoke from what seemed to be a violent nightmare. In his mind, he could see glaring, blurred, and transmuted images; sounds compressed and elongated unnaturally. Confusion. Familiar voices cried out and disappeared…

He was shaking. He was sweating. His head felt heavy, concussed and his mind was confused. Where was he? He was bound. He is upright against a rough hard surface. He was completely naked. Hanging in plain view. Exposed.

He was no longer in the dark and cramped ancient crypt. He could still smell the evil stench. What had transpired in the ancient crypt? He remembered vaguely, the screams echoing in the narrow tunnels … What was the fate of his sister? What had become of their sacred quest?

Though blood trickled down his forehead and into his eye sockets, his blurred his vision could make out darkly clad shapes. People. Chanting. Damnable Cabalist? What had gone wrong with their surprise attack on the Satanist cabalist? Where we the others. He thought of Sister Alice, Sister Mary-Anne, Sister Rachel and Sister Edith. Brave souls all.

Had it failed so soon? Had they been betrayed? A trap no doubt? Sister Mary-Ann? He found it hard to believe. Sister Alice? No. She was too earnest and it had been Sister Mary-Ann that had delivered him the Cabalists?

He blacked out again.


Sister Mary-Ann seemed almost unrecognizable.

The nun’s soft Asian attractiveness seemed to be subsumed under the toxic evil that pumped through her corrupted tissues. Sister Alice had placed the dark amulet around her bare neck and the succubus demon had emerged triumphantly again.

“Grrgggrrrrrrrrrrrrrr …” the shemale succubus growled provocatively.

This time the perverted demon would not so easily relinquish control over the body and the soul of the wayward nun. No, the demon enjoyed the rapture of being awakened far too much. To be free to indulge itself among the earthly pleasures of morals. Like the genie once trapped inside the lamp, now free from its constraints to reap havoc upon those at its disposal. Its very physicality gave the transgendered demon a new lease of life. And it wanted more life, more sex, more perversity!

The demon had, once again, taken a hermaphroditic form, transforming what remained of Sister Mary-Ann’s flesh into a slutty horned nymphet – its huge androgynous clit-cock standing fully upright and erect above its dripping labia.

Sister Alice knelt before the demon in complete adoration and worship. Her mouth made loud slurping noises as her face ground against the sex demon’s loins, eagerly pleasuring the demon by alternating between sucking its long, thick phallus and lapping at its oily vagina. The sex demon groaned in its enjoyment of Sister Alice’s moil. It looked across at where the infamous Father Ambrosio hung helplessly. He was still unconscious. His naked black body hung limply against his own body weight, suspended between two of the phallic totems. Soon he would meet his fate.

The secret chamber burned with the illumination of hell.

The priest was not alone in his torment. Sister Rachel and Sister Edith also succumbed to the devilment. Both the Sisters had been stripped of their habits and religious trappings. They now looked on, bound as spectators to the depravity. Both cried silently… speechlessly in abject terror at the congregation of satanic cabalists.

The cabalists had hung them painfully over long phallic poles that thrust up between their legs. As they both dangled precariously, against their own body weight. Should they allow themselves to slip, the impalements would penetrate them painfully as they descended downwards. They desperately gripped their hand restraints to prevent themselves falling and the exertion of their labors showed on their faces as the cock poles already pressed upwards against their vaginal and anal openings.

The cabalists were all there, dressed in their long black silken garbs.

“O Satanae me Satana venimus victimis.” (Oh Satan, my Satan, we come with sacrifice).

They chanted. Their bright evil eyes feasted at the sight of Sister Alice, who seemed sex-crazed, worshiping with wicked passion as she sucked and licked at the sex demon’s hermaphroditic protrusion.

“O Satanae me Satana venimus victimis.”

The cabalist formed a loose semi-circle around the hermaphroditic demon. They, in turn, opened the front of their long black gowns, exposing their nakedness beneath. Yes. Oh Yes. The males were all erect. The single female was dripping with arousal. They had waited a long time for this moment, as they all looked upon Father Ambrosio’s unconscious body.

“O Satanae me Satana venimus victimis.”

Pulling back their deep hoods — they revealed themselves for him (though still unconscious). Raven, Thomas, Leon, Horace, and Natasha.

Natasha stepped forward and slapped the priest’s face hard.

Father Ambrosio shook with the force of her blow. Awakened — he blinked away the blood that blurred his sight to look upon his tormentors. They openly touched their excited genitals, aroused by the presence of both the sex demon, but also aroused by their helpless naked victim, and their evil intent.

“Oh God have mercy!” Cried Sister Rachel as she strained to support her own body weight.

The phallus pole entered her bleeding anus.

“O Satanae me Satana venimus victimis.”

“You!” croaked Father Ambrosio.

There was genuine surprise in his voice. His recognition of their all-too-familiar faces was obvious.

“You are the ones? You are the evil brethren?”

There was a sense of incredulity in his self-denial.

“You must have had your suspicions, priest?” inquired Natasha.

She grinned sardonically as she applied the oily liquid and wrapped her long bony fingers around the priest’s flaccid black penis.

“You were a fool to think you could ever catch us, priest. Now, you and your sisterhood are doomed.”

She began to draw his loose nigger foreskin back and forth and stimulate his blood flow.

“Leave me alone, Devil!”

“Oh, what fun we’re going to have,” laughed Natasha.

“Do you worst on me, but let them go … you have me … let the other Sister go!”

Natasha laughed again and the priest twisted against his bindings to avoid the erotic sensations of her intimate touch as the strange ointment began to take effect.

“No priest. They, like you, must never leave this place … Come now, surely, you knew in your heart-of-hearts, it was us … it’s been going on for decades … we’ve been reaping havoc … corrupting your faith … abducting and sacrificing all those precious young ones … abusing them, torturing them, raping them, killing them … and even eating them!”

“Damn you!”

“It was so divine. It’s been going on, right in front of you … all this time priest.”

Queer Horace stepped forward and knelt before the priest. His hands caressed the priest’s slim thighs and then he pressed his mouth to his perineum, licking at the priest’s balls and anus, while Natasha continued to masturbate him, as he unwillingly began to harden to a rampant state.

“Stop this sacrilege! Damn you. Damn you all to hell!”

The sex demon pushed Sister Alice away and moved behind the hanging priest. The demon’s hands held the priest’s narrow hips. It pressed its clit-cock against the priest’s rectum. The priest’s body immediately tensed and then he began to thrash wildly, trying to prevent the immanent intrusion. He appeared as if he was almost dancing, as he thrust helplessly against his tight restraints. The congregation of masturbating cabalists watched as the demon began to bugger him — slowly screwing its cock into his dry anal canal.

“Aaaaghhhhhhhhhh!” scream the priest in agony.


There had been heavy rain. There was a wild tempest brewing across the Wolfgangsee Lake. The dark violet skies were lit by momentary strikes of bright lightening. A bad omen? Sister Jessica stabled her horse and entered the deserted convent. The front door hung half open, half closed.

The Warrior Sister expected the worst and drew her crossbow (with arrows that had been blessed in Holy Water). Her clothing was completely soaked in the deluge that had fallen as she’d made her way back to the convent. It felt cold and damp and there was no welcoming glow from the convent firelight to warm her frozen bones.

Her footsteps echoed in the lonely hollowness.

“Hello? Father Ambrosio? … Sister Mary-Ann? … Sister Edith? … Sister Rachel?”

There was nothing but an echo of her own voice.

What had transpired here? Where were all the others? She made her way to the main hall and there on the long table was a note. She immediately recognized the handwriting. It was from Father Ambrosio.

She put down her crossbow and opened the letter. She quickly scanned the letter that described their imminent attack on the satanic cabal and said that they would return anon. Sister Jessica’s thoughts raced ahead. Could they have failed? Were they all lying somewhere, detained, hurt, or worse … dead?

Sister Jessica would go after them. But first, she needed to get out of her wet clothing. Replenish her supplies and prepare for whatever fate awaits her.

The devilish church of the great Saint Wolfgang seemed to creek and groan in the winds of the Wolfgangsee storm that was now upon the convent. The rain was getting worse. The thunder was louder and lightning seemed more shocking. Dark shadows moved across the floor of the nave. Sister Jessica felt a shiver pass through her body. Something bad was coming — she knew it in her bones.


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