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.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Thanks again to Shellshock for his help on the narrative. And also to Winter Mutex for his idea about cross-linking stories (see the Requiem Dictionary)

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

CREATED: 08.01.2020 / REVISITED: 20.10.2023

Requiem Of Sins 6


It was a time before mobile phones and the Internet.

Willow grins wickedly to herself.

She was to be placed as a ward of the county. Samantha and Father Henry had found the perfect home for her, with a prominent city family. The aristocratic ‘Helpert Family’ were wealthy through the oil trade. Sir Anthony Helpert and Lady Emma Helpert and their two young children, Ackley and Idil, seemed to be the perfect choice. They lived a charmed and majestic lifestyle. Though she hated to leave her young sexual friends in Holy Oak behind, Father Henry had told her that formal education at a capital-style school would bring many latent benefits, refinements, and pleasures.

Sexualem perversa.

The demonic joys that she embraced would, of course, escalate in due course – be there a short pause for her to develop herself and one day, continue her catechism of the Devil, and take her rightful place at the right hand of the Divine One, serving the evil creature as its satanic priestess.


  • Willow Chadwick – innocent and youthful face, acolyte of Samantha (10)
  • Ackley Helpert – daughter of Emma, inquisitive, (10)
  • Idil Helpert – son of Emma, a loner (9)
  • Roslerina – Willow’s imaginary lover takes the ghostly form of a girl with long white hair that reaches her backside, her skin is sickly pale like an albino but without the ‘red eyes’… Roslerina can see the future, or so she claims, but sometimes her visions are blurred or incomplete (10)
  • Francisco – Helpert’s governess, tall, blond (26)
  • Sir Anthony Helpert – Father of an aristocratic family, cuckold (56)
  • Lady Emma Helpert – mother of an aristocratic family, devoted Christian (39)
  • Lady Louise Helpert – Sir Anthony’s first wife – presumed dead some 12 years prior, if alive she would be, She is really a witch that calls herself, Ester (45)
  • Father Richard Hurst – local priest, homosexual, and family’s confidant since the passing of Sir Anthony’s first wife, Louise, linked to the SSC (38)
  • 3 maids – Tania (18), Greta (20), Maria (18); Francis, manservant (22)


The witch bemoaned her wretched life. Her twisted and demented life.

What started out as a fairy tale come true had turned into a bitter nightmare. She could still vividly remember a time when laughter was easy. She still could hear it echoing in her mind. So carefree and wondrous. But that was before she discovered her inability to bear children. And what had followed had been her rejection, sadness, and despair. How could one, who was supposed to love her be so cruel?

Now she hid from sight. A shadow of her former self. No longer a Lady; now disguised as a crone in a world that thought her deceased. That was the official story — that Lady Louise had perished from a rare condition. Her empty grave was a sham perpetuated by her wicked husband, Sir Anthony.

She’d succumb to thoughts of her extracting her rightful revenge. Payback was due. The object of her pain and suffering was her pedophilic ex-husband with his crooked dreams of demonic incestuous offerings. He was proud. A high Lord. A wealthy man from a privileged family.

She hated him. She hated everything he stood for. She hated how he had forced her to leave. Yes, it was true that she could not bear him the sons and daughters he wanted … wanted for his wickedness (that she’d only learned about long after her rejection) … But to discard of her like a broken toy. So selfishly. So cruelly.

He must be made to suffer for his evil and perverted ways. He must be exposed for his gainsay and the deviant pervert he really is. The fall must satisfy her … completely.

Maybe death was too easy.


It had been a long trip from Holy Oak and Willow had been feeling very horny the entire journey. She thought about Sexualem perversa. She longed to sink her fingers into her hot itchy snatch or one of the arms of the smooth phallic crucifix that she carried in her cloth bag — but instead, she peeped eagerly through the window of the fancy horse-drawn carriage.

The warm day seemed brighter. The smell of blossom filled the carriage. So far the bucolic lifestyle of the village. The tree-lined avenue passed rapidly as the carriage traveled swiftly towards its destination. She glimpsed many elegant white stone buildings set back against wide cobblestone pavements, where elegant ladies dressed in fancy clothes, panniers, bustles, corsets, and bonnets were promenaded by fine gentry dressed in suites, heels, and top hats.

The contrast from village to city was acute. There were many things that she had never seen before. Now the carriage turned into the long graveled driveway of House Helpert. She felt in awe of all that lay before her. As the carriage came to a halt, the side door was opened from the outside by a young maid dressed in pure white (from head to toe). To Willow, she looked something like an angel … all heavenly, pure, and divine.

The maid took her hand and helped Willow down onto the graveled driveway. Willow clutched a little cloth bag tightly under her arm. She looked up at the white-stoned mansion before her. It took her breath away.

“You must be the young Miss Willow. My name is Greta, Mi’Lady,” said Greta bowing her head respectfully.

Willow wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. She wasn’t used to this kind of servitude.

“Don’t worry Mi’Lady, everyone waitin’ ta meet yer inside,” said Greta leading her up the marble stairs towards the open front doors, “Can I take your things, Mi’Lady?”

Willow didn’t want to relinquish her hold on her small bag of belongings (thinking about the unholy content of her little cloth bag) — but Greta was quite insistent.

“I’ll put your personal things in her room, keep them private … Mi’Lady.”

They stepped through the grand doorway that opened into the wide formal reception. Everything was classic but ostentatious in its marble, granite, brass, and mahogany woodwork. There was a finely dressed woman and two young children on one side and a line of servants dressed identically to Greta on the other.

“My dear Willow. Heavenly Goodness … God be praised! You are finally here!” said the posh lady in deification.

She was dressed in all her embroidered finery. She looked youngish and very pretty, but not too young to be the mother of the two children — one boy aged nine years, and one girl aged ten years.

“This is Ackley Helpert.”

She pressed her daughter forward to greet Willow. Ackley curtsied.

“This is Idil Helpert,” she said, now pressing her son forward. Idil bowed.

“Hello,” said Ackley.

“Hello,” said Idil.

Both were smiling and very gentile in their welcome.

“Well. Aren’t you going to give your new sister a big hug?” asked their Mother.

The two children gave Willow a warm hug each — it didn’t feel forced, but more encouraged as they all seemed a little overwhelmed by this event. A fact that did not go unmissed by their mother, who smiled at them all — happy and content. They all seemed so enthusiastic to welcome her.

Willow felt unsure of herself.

“I am Lady Emma Helpert — but you must call me Mother. And this is your new home.”

Lady Emma gave her a tight hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

“This is Ms. Francisco, she will be your Governess,” said Lady Emma introducing a tall blond woman with short-cropped hair and a severe expression.

She seemed a little detached compared to the rest about the greeting.

“Welcome to House Helpert,” said the Governess (a little stiffly).

“Now, you’ve met Greta,” Greta bowed her head and curtsied, “And this is Tania, Maria, and Francis,” said Lady Emma as she introduced the servants one by one.

Each curtsied and bowed accordingly.

“Miss Willow,” they all chimed together with a smile and a bowed head.

“Apologies for Sir Anthony. He’s away for a few days. He wanted to be here, but was called away on urgent oil business,” said Lady Emma.

There was a little exasperation in her tone (as if she’d had this happened once too many times).

“It’s a long journey from Holy Oak. You must be very tired my love. Let Greta take your things and show you to your rooms. Maybe after a wash and a rest, you can join us for family prayers this evening. Father Richard Hurst is our local parish priest — he has been saying a prayer for you and will be thrilled that you are finally here.”

“Thank you,” said Willow.


It was a huge four-story alabaster mansion of solid granite and majestic marble, with wide staircases and mahogany wood-clad walls. There was a basement below, where the cook and the servants attended to all domestic things. There was an outhouse where they kept the horses and the carriages.

There was a sprawling sculptured garden and a large greenhouse build from avant-garde-styled ironwork, where they grew all kinds of exotic fruits and vegetables. There were hallways, landings, balconies, formal greeting rooms, dining rooms, smoking rooms, breakfast rooms, reading rooms, study rooms, sun rooms, sitting rooms, dressing rooms, bedrooms, and bathrooms — there seemed to be a room for every occasion. And around the estate was a tall white wall, supposedly to keep them safe from harm.

“They’d be get’n ready for evenin’ church, Mi’Lady. The good Father wanted to meet yer. Maybe yous need a wash and a change of clothin’?” Greta asked respectfully.

Greta nervously showed Willow to her suite which consisted of a bedroom and ensuite bathroom with large windows and heavy velvet drapes that looked down onto the sculptured gardens below. Everything was beautifully appointed. With a large dressing mirror, dressing table, couch, and a huge four-poster bed. There was a small study table and chair.

“I hope it meets with your approval, Mi’Lady?” asked the maid, Greta.

There was a church-going gown laid out across the bed with shoes and undergarments to match.

“Yes,” replied Willow as she began to notice Greta’s nervousness around her.

Already extremely horny, the sense of her supposed superiority excited her.

Greta reached into her front apron pocket. She knelt down before Willow and handed her a small scrape of paper in outstretched arms. Willow took it as Greta continued to knell, biting her lower lip. She was visibly shaking. Willow opened the note to immediately recognise the handwriting of the Witch of Holy Oak, Samantha Druss (the lover of her satanic teacher, Laura Chadwick).

The note simply read.

“Dearest Willow. By now you will be in House Helpert. Don’t fret my dear, you are not alone. Greta is one of us. I have charged her to serve you faithfully in any such manner that your perverted little mind should need. Hail Satan.”

It was signed ‘S. Druss’.

Mmm, yes, she thought about the possibilities. Now Willow’s little ten-year-old cunt was more than just wet.

“So you are to be my eyes and ears in House Helpert?”

“Yes, Mi’Lady. Wot ever yer want Mi’Lady. There’s warm water and fresh towels. Would yer like me ta wash yer, Mi’Lady?”

Willow nodded and grinned.

“Would youse like me ta undress, Mi’Lady? Kneel and wash yer privates, whilst bein’ naked, Mi’Lady? Use me mouth … me tongue … Mi’Lady? Lick yer good, Mi’Lady?”

Willow grinned wider. Greta quickly removed her shoes, gown, and underclothing. Willow licked her lips at the sight of the nubile maid’s nymph-like body. So white and completely hairless. Though she was twenty-year-old, with her flattish chest and hairless cunny, Greta could have been as young as a pre-teen.

Willow also removed her clothes and leaned up against the bed.

“Bring me the chamber pot.”

“Yes, Mi’Lady.”

Greta retrieved the white porcelain bowl from below the bed.

“Hold it for me. I need to piss and shit.”

Greta knelt immediately in front of Willow, while Willow rubbed her itchy slit.

“Ahhhhhh … that feels so hot!” said Willow.

She squeezed her urethra and allowed a stream of salty hot piss to cascade noisily into the empty potty that Greta held beneath her spread legs.

As Willow cut off her piss flow she barked, “Lick me clean …”

Greta held the bowl, now half filled with Willow’s dark yellow piss, and leaned forward to begin licking the young child’s oily pussy and tasting the residue of her tangy piss.

“Lick it harder. Lick it clean, fuck … fuck … mmmm … stick your tongue in deeper … mmmm … that’s it clean my clit!”

Greta continued her cunnilingus with great gusto.

“Yes. Yes … mmmm …”

Her bowels opened and a long dark brown turd began to appear. Willow’s hand reached back behind her and rubbed her fingertips against the roundness of her own shit, as it hung at the opening of her greasy anus. Immediately, her fingers were coated in brown filth. She looked at her dirty hand and sniffed gingerly at her poop-smeared fingers — like a connoisseur appreciating the bouquet of fine wine.

“Clean my fingers.”

Greta looked at the young child’s dirty hand. She seemed reluctant at first.

“Taste my shit!”

Greta did as she was ordered. She cautiously opened her mouth and Willow stuck one of the shit-coated fingers into her mouth. She grimaced at the bitterness.

“You will learn the ways of the sexualem perversa. You will serve me as your goddess. Now clean my fingers. After today and every day … you will be your goddess’ toilet. You will drink all my urine and eat my shit. Do you understand?”

Greta nodded. She looked a little unsure but nonetheless excited by her disgusting proposition. Then she bent her head and began to suck each digit of Willow’s hand, cleaning the fetal matter from between her fingers.

“Toilet slave. You are my nasty little toilet slave. Hail Satan.”

“Hail Satan. Mi’Lady” Replied Greta.


The Governess ushered Helpert’s children, Ackley and Idil, back to their tutoring room. All this excitement and no study? This wouldn’t do. She had known about the arrival of this orphan that the Helperts had adopted. From Holy Oak. Probably illiterate. Probably uncultured. Nevertheless, a scrumptious young thing to be observed. Observed, she thought to herself. That’s all I ever do these days. Scared of my own shadow. Why then become a governess? If not to corrupt the dirty little minds.

She needed to masturbate desperately. To finger her cunt and neither-hole. The sight of these wretched young things always affected her overheating libido. A day of sexual frustration in the classroom and a night of self-pleasuring, thinking about all the deviant things she longed for with their innocent little bodies.

The carriage arrived and to her delight – this urchin girl was even more delicious than she had hoped. Oh, the devil be praised. She’s a pretty little thing. She’ll bring hours of fantasies and masturbatory delight. She remembered back to the previous appointment — the family had a ‘slow learner’, a so-called Mongoloid daughter of about twelve. Not pretty at all; some said she was capable of accoutrements of divinity; but to Francisco, preying on her lack of awareness, she was easy to manipulate into sexual situations. Easy to get her to lick her teacher’s oily hot cunt. To fuck her with her fat little fingers and suck her teacher’s breasts. Mmmm. Yes. To masturbate upon that ugly child’s face. So fucking taboo. But alas, all good things come to an end; as Francisco was nearly discovered and hence her hasty departure from their employ.

Now, to groom this country child to bend to her perverted will … mmmm … this thought made her cunt throb.


The church was crowded. There wasn’t a single pew empty, except of course for the seats reserved for the Helperts. Willow noticed how they all seemed to be treated like royalty. Lady Emma moved majestically through the throng, leading her children to their front-row seats that looked directly upon the pulpit.

Father Richard Hurst, their local priest, was an old friend and confidant of the Helpert family. He was in his late thirties. It was difficult to put an exact age on him as he kept his head shaved and any hair loss or grey hair would remain unseen. He smiled directly at Willow. Her sense of the priest was immediate. Though externally he appeared all airs and graces — he was a creepy guy, a closet, and a secret pervert.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” said the priest.

“Amen,” replied the congregation.

“The Lord be with you,” said the priest.

“And also with you,” replied the congregation.

“There is a fable that tells of three apprentice demons who were coming to earth to finish their apprenticeship. They were talking with Satan about their plans to tempt and to ruin humanity. The first demon said, ‘I will tell them there is no God.’ But Satan said, ‘That will not delude many, for they know there is a God.’ The second demon said, ‘I will tell them that there is no hell.’ Satan answered, ‘You will deceive no one that way, they know even now that there is a hell for sin.’ The third demon said, ‘I will tell them that there is no hurry.’ Satan smiled and said ‘Go and you will ruin people by the thousands, for the most dangerous of all delusions is that there is plenty of time.”

The priest smiled evilly at Willow.

“Amen,” added the congregation.

Willow followed the priest’s fable very closely. There seemed to be a glimmer in his eyes — every time he mentioned demons and Satan … it was definitely something very unholy.


Ackley and Idil were eager to meet their newly adopted sister. Their mother, Lady Emma, had praised God in the highest for Willow and had clearly expressed that Willow was not just another homeless street urchin but now their Godly kin. They were told to think of her as their true sister. They seemed very happy about having a new sister to play with.

“Tell us about Holy Oak,” said Ackley, who always seemed to do the talking.

“Nothing much to tell,” she replied, “Just a small village in the countryside. Barns. Farms. Cows and horses. Stuff like that.”

Of course, Willow knew the truth would shock them. Revolt them. They’d reject her if they knew the truth immediately. Yes. All in good time. She could not help but reflect back on her last days in Holy Oak. The unholy. It was ironic. The bizarreness and perversity. Sexualem perversa. Her inculcation into their evil sect. The kiss of the Devil. Praise the Lord of Darkness.

“What happened to your mother and father?” asked Ackley.

Willow explained that they had both been murdered by a mad girl. Of course, this was not the truth. She had killed her own mother and her father had been killed by Sister Novice Melissa, whilst he was supposedly raping Willow. Her manipulation was invisible – to the two young children, a mad girl sounded crazy enough. Even as she told the lie, she felt as if she was talking in the third person, as if it was someone else’s nightmare story.



Willow turns to face you.

“Roslerina? I know it’s you. You think I don’t see you?”

Willow laughs but continues jilling her ripe little cunt. She sucks her tainted fingers and then resumes her furious masturbation.

“You told me that you know the future. Do you have a prescience of vision? So what will happen to me? I need to know. Mmmmm. Are you willing off too? Mmmmm. I love it! Fingering my horny cunt. You too? Mmmmm. I love you watching me… it makes me really hot.

“So, you know what happened right? I’m talking about Holy Oak … my mum … my dad … you know it was not my fault that they both ended up dead. Hahaha … yer, I knew you’d bring that up … yes, yes, I did kill my pious old mum and I did, kind of, set my father up … but it was Melissa that crushed his head with the fire poker … I was really into him sodomizing me whilst being bound up next to the fireplace. Oh, Hail Satan! Stupid cunt, she could have at least waited until he shot his creamy load up my clacker … fuck that memory makes me so fucking horny.

“It was the ritual. You know, my teacher, Priestess Samantha, introduced me to it. I mean the Sexualem perversa … she evoked the sex demons you know? She wanted them to infect me. It’s not like I knew what I was doing and stuff, no. She’s the one. She made me do it with that demon in that dark place. It was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. Only could hear him breathing like a beast. He smelt fowl. The smell of urine, shit, and I don’t know what else. Roslerina, he put his tongue up inside me … I mean … right up inside my guts. I could feel it deeper than my dead father’s cock … It was long, wet, and very weird. FUCK! His tongue was so thick and long. It made me cum like nothing else I’ve known. An Incubus? I think that’s what she called him. Yes, the Priestess said he was an Incubus … The Divine One, or something like that. So you see, it was the devil that infected me with this perverted decease …Corrupted me … Made me do bad things …

“Now the Helperts are interesting. I mean, I have been here less than an hour and already the chambermaid is drinking my piss and eating my shit. Mmmmmm. Lovely. We are going to have so much fun with her … you and I … And Roslerina, I want to you tell me more about my future. All the nasty things that are about to unfold — spare no detail OK? So I heard that Lady Emma is the second wife. That Lord Helpert’s first wife died of some rare and mysterious disease. Then, there is that Governess. Francisco – named after some place, overseas, in the Americas … She’s a pervert, I know it, I can smell it on her … I saw the way she looked at me … I was like fresh meat. Well, we will have to see about that. And what do you think about my new brother, Idil? Think I won’t be sucking his cock within a few days. And my new sister, Ackley … yes … she’ll be a little harder to break, but she’ll be fucking me and her brother soon enough … I don’t know about you, but I thought the Helperts were going to be dull … now I’m really excited …”


Father Richard Hurst paced up and down as he waited impatiently in the rectory as he had done on numerous occasions for the damnable Helpert family. As if the world revolved around them? He stopped for a moment to adjust his priestly collar as he practiced his duplicitous smile in the mirror.

He thought about Lady Emma and two of her young children (and now this urchin from God knows where?). How he’d love to ram the truth down their pretty little gullets. Tell them all about their gracious Sir Anthony Helpert — his corrupted lover. How the ‘Lord’ lived a double life; one patriarchal to the church; one groveling on his knees before the effigy of Satan, whilst fucking a nameless young choir boy in his impossibly tight anus. Mmmmm … Yes, how the priest loved fucking young boys too … ramming his cock into their delicate little shitholes.

Lady Emma had no idea of the perverted nature of her so-called Lord and husband. What a fucking hypocrite. He chuckled out loud to himself … But then again, who was he to talk? He praised Jesus in the cloisters but secretly worshiped the Antichrist. And what of the late Lady Louise Helpert? It seems like it was only yesterday that they conspired to get rid of her.

The bitch was sterile. He remembered how Lord Anthony had wanted children of his own. Incest was to be such an offering to their dark master. Yes, she’d messed that up. Only one thing to do. Kill the bitch. Well, they had killed her in the name (claiming she’d died of some mysterious decease) — but had practically thrown her out into the street. Had she known about her husband’s illicit activities? Father Richard wasn’t sure. It would have been better to kill her… as they did with many of the young boys they used for perverted sex … a dead man tells no tells? What had happened to her? Who cares — he said to himself, dismissing the thought. Soon the Helpert children will be of the age … Yes, and praise Satan, their demise will bring him (and his Lord lover) life eternal … to sin forever!


Willow awake.

She was no longer in her family’s rough rural cottage. She lay comatose in her beautiful feather bed. The curtains were only partially drawn and the morning light filled her finely appointed bedroom.

The sexual pleasures of Sexualem perversa.

Her fingers found her erect clitoris and she immediately began rubbing against it. Delicious signals of carnality flashed through her mind as she recalled with vividness her dark dream of the Divine One. The provocative images crashed across her mind like a violent wave breaking against the rocks. One moment she was gasping from the raw pleasures of her Demon God as he penetrated her cunt with his impossibly long penile tongue; the next she road upon the face of her dying mother as her cunt gushed with copious girl juice as she reached the crest of her mighty orgasm.

Sexualem perversa.

She saw things or was it the Divine One’s intervention? These wildly perverted dreams brought Willow new insight. She could see through the trappings of societal sophistication to the true nature of her naive hosts. They would all fall … one by one … to the carnal darkness within her.

Willow looks you in the eye again.

Her stare is deliberate and unshaken though her fingers never stop rubbing her engorged clit.

“Roslerina. Oh Roslerina, I know you’re there. Oh fuck I’m so horny. My cunt drips all the time. Will I ever be safe? You know me better than any other, yet it’s you who bedevils me with temptation isn’t it?

“What will befall be in this place? You know of things yet to come… You know the future… Tell me damn you! The Divine One. Sexualem perversa. What of this family? Are they all bewitched? Is it their fate to all become enslaved? So who shall fall first? The Governess? You’ve seen how she stares at me. She wants to fuck me so much. She wants to fuck the Helpert children too — I can sense that she’s completely obsessed, but something is holding her back. She only needs to be triggered and she will fall. Greta could help? But it may be more fun to do it all myself. Mmmmmm. The Divine One calls for sacrifice.”


Dressed in her sleeveless white dress, Francisco stood tall and lean. She kept her long auburn-blond hair pulled back from her attractive young face in a tight bun. At twenty-six she was still a virgin. She had never been with a man before and over the years had developed a rather perverted view of sex and sexual pleasure. She took great pains to control her so-called ‘wicked’ impulses — impulses that she must never act upon again.

She had not been the Helpert’s new Governess for very long when Willow first arrived. She had taken the job as their Governess, not out of any benevolent need to help cultivate young minds — though she was fond of talking about, especially at interviews with prospective parents, her keen desire to foster their love of lifelong learning. Parents always wanted to hear about her successes with troubled and difficult children (like a story about how she helped a poor mongoloid girl).

But the truth of it was that this was all a sham. Did she really care about the well-being of these kids? Or was she truly motivated only by sensations, perverted and sexual? Was she in complete denial? Maybe on some level, she registered the reality that she was a highly perverted bisexual pedophile, a sexual predator, and her pretense to the children and their parents was duplicitous and shameful. But possibly her pretense to herself was far more insidious. She never admitted to her attraction to those preteens. Even after the events of her last employment — she remained detached. As if it had been someone else … What if she simply couldn’t stop herself?

Now, at their early evening bath time, her eyes smoldered watching over the new addition, Willow, as she guilelessly played with the two Helpert children, Ackley and Idil.

The Governess stood absolutely still as if perched upon her suppedaneum. Subconsciously, she slipped her hand beneath her knee-length dress. Knicker-less, her fingers secretly danced across her hardened clitoris and felt the heat emitting from the hot-wet cunt hole. She watched wide-eyed as Willow stood completely naked before her eyes. She stared at the girl’s delicate form. Mmmm. So pure. So divine. But, there was something about Willow, she thought. Something about this child seemed to actually encourage Francisco to watch her. A pubescent temptress. Francisco knew that was completely crazy. But, it was as if the damnable child was giving her a little show, as she stood libidinously there, wet, wild, washing her more sensitive parts without any inhibitions.

While the other children played obliviously and quietly together in the bath water, Willow’s soapy hands rubbed her tiny cones of virtually flat breasts. They then snaked down to rub herself between her parted legs. At first glance, it appeared to be in total innocence. Just a young girl washing herself? Still, Franchise was boiling between her thighs. A slender finger sank into her needy cunt.

The washing appeared almost masturbatory — the child obviously enjoying the sensation of her soapy fingers rubbing up and down her tiny bald slit. Francisco stifled a gasp. With her back to the other children, Willow’s legs opened even wider and invitingly so. Her mouth was open and her eyes closed in secret pleasure as her middle finger pressed upwards — tantalizing herself between her labia. The finger entered her tiny hairless slit pressing upwards to the third knuckle. Willow’s face was one of vulgar rapture. Her tongue snaked in and out.

One finger became two, two became three, while her other hand teased her stiff nipple cones. It looked more and more lewd and dirty. Francisco groaked. She had never seen anything so erotically salacious in all her twenty-six years. The torrid wickedness is just too much. Her fingers moved at the same pace as the tiny performer’s. In a moment of regret … Francisco felt a deep guilt … reflecting upon her sinful ways … she had to stop this lecherous misbehavior. It was disgusting. Vile. An affront to all that was holy. The child must be punished immediately.


‘Stop!” cried a desperate voice from behind the half-closed door, “Stop!”

Willow froze. Her fingers immediately withdraw from her pulsing cunt. She had been caught red-handed by her new Governess.

“You two,” the angry, red-faced, Governess was talking to Ackley and Idil, who both scrabbled to get out of the bathwater, “Get dry and change into your nightclothes immediately. I want you in bed now!”

Ackley and Idil looked apprehensive. Maybe their Governess had not talked to them so sternly before.

“Now means now,” she barked, “And … And … And you,” she looked directly at Willow (who still stood wet and naked), “You stay right there. Don’t move. You hear me?”

Willow nodded silently.

The Governess returned and closed the bathroom door.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing young lady?”

Willow looked down at the floor. It was the look of guilt.

“Don’t you know it’s a sin? A sin to touch yourself in such a way!”

The Governess was shaking. Her cunt was convulsing. She nervously pulled a chair over to the center of the bathroom and sat down on it.

“With regret … you must be punished … Now … Come here. And … And … Bend over my lap.”

“But I’m still wet Miss?”

“Oh, yes,” the Governess stuttered.

She pulled the knee-high fabric of her dress up to her waste.

“Bend over my thighs and look at the floor!” she ordered.

Willow silently complied. She could see the Governess had no underwear below her gown — her adult cunt looked puffy and disdained with self-pleasuring. A wicked smile crossed her face. She positioned herself over the Governesses knees and looked at the floor as she was instructed.

Willow felt the Governesses hands upon her backside. The adult fingers danced across her wet flesh — fondling her inappropriately. The Governess seemed to try to stifle a pleasurable groan. The fingers touched her anus and traced her outer labia as they rubbed up and down the preteens perineum.

“You’ve been a very bad girl Willow. You should know better … that masturbation is a heinous sin … (panting) … God demands punishment for masturbators … (panting more) … Masturbation is …”

The Governess brought her hand down hard against Willow’s flesh, slapping her open-handed across the buttocks.

“Aaaggghhhhhh …” cried Willow in the sharpness of the pain.

The Governess hit her again.

“Aghhhhhh …” Willow gasped, “I promise not to do it again Miss,” she lied.

“Yes. It hurts doesn’t it!”

Another painful blow and then another.

“Pleeeeeese … Miss …”

The Governess seemed to suppress her laughter as her elevated breathing made her pant louder and louder.

“That will teach you … (panting) … Punish the little masturbator. You little harlot!”

The Governess’ hands momentarily hovered and then returned to stroking Willow’s flesh that stung from the hardness of the Governesses beating.

“Get … up,” she panted from sexual excitement.

Willow did as she was told. She thought it was over, but obviously, the beating had only stirred the Governess to a further level of perverted excitement. She sat with her dress hitched up over her waist and her slender legs parted. Willow stared at the floor and nursed her tender buttocks.

“Kneel child … (panting) … Knee down now …” crooned the Governess as she opened her legs even wider as an encouragement for the young lapling, “Kneel before me … (panting) … down here, between my open legs.

Willow did as she ordered. Her eyes could now see the effect that the beating had had on the Governess, whose cunt was literally dripping with her sexual juices. Willow drew closer — she could feel the heat of the woman’s crutch. Willow dabbed her fingertips into the Governesses ejaculate that dripped from her rosy-colored labia. Willow brought her sticky to her lips and sucked at them enthusiastically.

The Governess could only watch in total disbelief. She was blinded as the young girl sucked her sticky cunt fluids from those tiny fingers. This was the point of no return … she knew it … she dreaded the consequences … but her rapid heartbeat beckoned the possibilities of this girl’s unnatural seduction.

“The wickedness … (panting, crying) … the wickedness … (panting, singing) … so sublime … (panting, crying) …”

The chantepleure Governesses’s hands reached around the back of Willow’s head and gingerly pressed her face forward into the heat of her crutch.

“Lick it. Lick my cunt, you little harlot … Aaargghhhhhh … LICK ME OUT! LICK ME OUT!”



The Governess lay in the darkness of her accommodation. Covered in sweat and the stench of her own depravity and plowed her slender fingers back and forth, in and out of herself, like a mad woman, obscenely and obsessed … as she recounted the depravity of it all.

She had spontaneously orgasmed whilst beating the young, naked child – this only further fueled her perversion. She knew that she was sick. Too weak to hold back the inevitable. That damnable girl … Temptress … Who’d tormented her with her libidinous display. She’d stood only a few feet away (hidden from view from the other children, but in plain sight of Francisco’s eyes … Eyes that burned with unnatural lust as she watched her doing disgusting things … Things that only an adult should know about.

Then between her open legs; Francisco’s cunt was burning. On fire. The lusts of hell seemed to have been unleashed upon her … And the little harlot’s tongue needed no encouragement to fucking her overheated cunt. I had brought her exquisitely to an orgasm like no other she’d ever experienced on her own. Hail Lucifer. Hell, all the sexual demons of hell. Her mind had never felt such an intensity of depravity. How Fransisco had bucked wildly (almost screaming out loud at the top of her lungs) as she blasted the tiny young girl with mouthfuls of her female cum. She’d grabbed the back of her head squirting her ejaculate into the little harlot’s willing mouth … Still, the girl licked and licked and licked, bringing her Governess to an exhausting chain of powerful climaxes.

Sexualem perversa.

Francisco felt another orgasm about to erupt as she remembered the were the words that the child had muttered. The words that the little girl had muttered over and over, as she masturbated fiercely whilst performing on her knees. The Governess could still see Willow’s face buried between her quivering thighs during the young girl’s cunnilingus marathon … possessed … yes … possessed … yes … she must be possessed by some kind of sex demon … the child succubus … the unchaste cherub of wantonness … how else to explain this burning and insatiable lust.

Sexualem perversa.

Francisco felt she was lost in the ‘Devil’s Playground’. And that was only the beginning. There had been the seduction of the others. How she’d been inspired by Willow. The girl was a demon … She’d coaxed her. She knew her weakness for young ones. It was only a matter of time, before the Helpert children, Ackley and Idil, were drawn into this dangerous game. Damn, Idil was only nine and Ackley ten. Willow seemed to know how.

They were unwilling. They resisted. They cried and wept. But they both needed to be punished. Willow had pretended that they had lied to their mother. Ackley protested saying it wasn’t true. Idil just stood there. He’d never heard anyone tell a lie before. In a shot they were both completely naked, the first was Ackley to be laid across Francisco’s knees. Willow had been masturbating as she encouraged the beating. Harder and harder. Even without touching herself, Francisco had cum whilst performing this perverted act.

Sexualem perversa.

Willow had warned them that she’d kill them if they said a word. They feared this girl. Willow was the Devil. Francisco worshiped her. They’d scissored together in her bed for hours, cumming over and over, while the other two watched in abject terror. They were theirs to abuse … to use … they were nothing more than sex toys to both the Governess and her new tiny Mistress.


It was late in the evening. Lady Emma Helpert knelt before her private altar. She silently went through her Rosary as she fingered the knots of beads. Things disturbed her. Things that she didn’t quite understand. Something unnatural had befallen her family. She was not sure what it was — but she felt it, deep in her bones. Like an evil omnipresent.

She prayed harder than she’d ever done before, drawing strength from those prayers. Was it a mother’s intuition that had aroused these feelings? Was there something about this new Governess? All of this strangeness and the arrival of Willow? No. The young girl was innocent … How could she ever even allow herself to cast usurpation upon one who had been wronged so … Her mother and father were murdered.

Her thoughts returned to the newly appointed Governess. Was she overly strict? Could she be interfering with the children?

Lady Emma continued to pray, looking up at the Mother Mary. The Mother of Christ, her Savoir. Heaven’s above! She thought guessing herself. Torn, she is unsure of herself. She thought about the possibility of taking up the matter with Father Richard. He was a man of God. Dedicated and true. Surely his holy advice would help? But then again, she thought, such a delicate matter as that could escalate matters up to her husband. As a mother and a stepmother, her duty must be to sort the situation out — but how?


Willow also sleepless, reflected on her seduction of the Governess. It was as the great demon had predicted. Hail Satan. The dark gods smiled upon her temptress ways. What power she felt surge through her. The dark power of Sexualem perversa. Yes. Oh Yes! There was nothing quite like it. She had felt drunk on its sexual empowerment — the fall of the hapless Governess … her sexual torture of the Helpert children had brought a new degree of evil pleasuring. Pain and suffering. This was truly becoming the Devil’s Playground. Sin upon blasphemous sin upon perverse sin. Yes. So delicious. So divine.

Willow looks you in the eyes.

Her fingers are a blur of movement as they thrust in and out of her gaping little cunt hole that drools with girl juice.

“Oh, my darling Roslerina. I know you’re there. Oh, Roslerina. See what I have done. The woman fell so easily. Did you see the look in her eyes when she caught me masturbating? Oh how sweet the fall. How I wallowed in it. My orgasm are so strong that I pissed myself.

“Sexualem perversa. Oh, Sexualem perversa …

“And then the poor girl … how I whispered to her. Corrupted her. She too … Such a young spirit … Incest is such a beautiful thing isn’t it Roslerine? Yes. Oh yes. It took more than a little coaxing … But her brother was already erect looking at the both of us … Ackley and I, kissing each other, plunging my tongue into her mouth while touching each other in our most private of parts. Her sweet untouched cunt was all mine. Mmmmmm. I am not sure which conquest was more fun … Fucking her mouth or watching him, fuck his sister with his tiny little pricklet. Did he spurt inside her? I’m sure from the way he trembled and groaned in pre-teen ecstasy. But now things will never be the same.

“They are all tainted. They knew it was wrong, but they still did it. Isn’t that such a devious thought? Mmmmmm … I have a plan for my dark passions … How the perverted love of my teacher and lover, Samantha, her evil priest husband, Father Henry, and the Goat Goddess, Angelique … her demon shecock that is never flaccid.

“Roslerina, do you think the Divine One would grant me my darkest wish? Oh, the transformation … to be like the Goat Goddess, to be able to change at will. Female, but male. Vagina and cock. All pleasure in one. I want it, Roslerina. I want to be like Angelique … to fuck my worshipers … to fuck you my darling with the Devil’s cock!”

Willow bucked in orgasmic delight.

“Hail Satan … HAIL SATAN! … Hail the Divine One who guides me from Hell …”


Lady Emma had decided to take a brisk night walk. Now all alone with her malicious thoughts she struggled inside of herself. Everything about her life, her family … her children was in question. These dark thoughts were painful beyond anything she’d experienced. Angst. Doubts. Anger. How could it be … their once-happy life was beginning to fall apart at the seams.

It was becoming her darkest of nightmares.

But the night air was cold and the chill seemed to calm her mind somewhat. And the further she walked, the further away she felt her troubles drifting.

“It’s a cold night to be out walking Mi’Lady?”

Lady Emma turned quickly towards the voice. It sounded familiar. It came from an old woman, a crone, dressed in a black robe. She was seated upon a park bench.

“Yes, the night is dark and full of the unexpected,” she replied.

It was an old saying that was shared between unacquainted travelers.

“You’ve come to unburden yourself?” asked the old crone.

Under the gas lights, Lady Emma could make out a soft and friendly face.

“By the grace of the Holy Spirit,” replied Lady Emma.

The old woman beckoned Lady Emma to join her on the park bench. She hesitated for a moment, thinking that maybe it was best to return as the hour was very late. But the old woman smiled at her.

“By the grace, my dear. Unburden yourself.”

“You are kind to ask, but my mind is filled with unrest that is not so easily described. I am struggling with its incredulity.”

“Some say that I am easy to talk to. Some say I even have a clairvoyant nature. Some even accuse me of being a witch …” answered the old crone.

Lady Emma sat down. A witch? She felt no fear of this woman. In fact, her voice had a soothing quality that she felt open, honest, and forthright. She was quiet for a long while as if collecting her terrible thoughts. The old woman put her hand upon Lady Emma’s hands that were clasped tightly upon her lap.

“Mi’Lady is a mother. A concerned mother. For the night is dark and full of the unexpected. I can see a shadow across your path.”

“A shadow?” asked Lady Emma.

“Something … unsavory … wicked … evil?” the old crone added.

Her hand continued to squeeze Lady Emma’s firmly.

“In God I trust. But I fear for my children’s safety.”

“Yes. I believe you could be right. I see something scandalous. You are right to have these feelings, my dear. I cannot see clearly, but a demon I believe, is within your home. A demon in disguise. It’s an insidious thing …”

The old crone released her hold on Lady Emma’s hand.

“Arghhhh …” gasped Lady Emma.

Lady Emma was shocked. Her breathing became immediately labored. Panting. Sweat poured from her forehead. Had she glimpsed something terrible? Nakedness? Fornication? Phallic worship? Naked dancers? … Children. Devil worshipers. Naked children. Masturbation. Pedophilia. Erect penises. Wet vaginas. Before the old crone released her hand Lady Emma saw this evil … A dark and insidious sexual evil … perverted sex demons … The words formed, first in her mind and then on her lips …

“The Divine One.”

The old crone stood up and backed away.

“My, my deepest apologies Mi’Lady. Maybe this was not such a good idea?”

“I saw them …”

“Go home Lady Helpert. Go home.”

The old woman cut her off in mid-sentence.

“You know my name!” said Lady Emma in surprise.

“There is a great deal of things I know.”

“Then help me, damn it,” said Lady Emma as she stood up too, “You know my name, you know that there are forces untoward within my family … By what name shall I know you?”

“Call me Ester, Mi’Lady. And you can find me in the old town. I live above the tavern. The Royal Inn …” replied Ester, “I will try to help you … If I can …”

Without another word, Lady Emma turned sharply and hurried home.


The witch smiled to herself as she watched the retreating woman.

Her hatred was no less than it had been from the twelve years prior. How had she quelled herself for so long? She was not sure — but now was the time to strike.

Of course, the inept Lady Emma would be back. Back to cry on her shoulder. To ask her help to battle her hidden foe. She laughed to herself. She had seeded the young mother’s mind with fantastical debauchery. She would now suspect every shadow.

The old witch’s disguise served her well. She remembered vaguely that she’d once been the bell of the ball … the celebrated wife of a rich and powerful Lord … Lady Louise Helpert … Sir Anthony’s first wife. The barren wife. The childless wife. Now they all presumed her dead … Some twelve years prior from a foreign decease.

Her hatred for Sir Anthony was fathomless; doubly so, now she understood the secret motive behind his wickedness and evil desires; children, born, not out of love but for his hidden purpose. He was a truly evil man and had it coming to him. Yes, he would get what he deserved. She felt a slight pang of sadness for the younger woman; the one who now bore him the incestuous child sacrifices he desired.

He’d threatened to accuse her of witchcraft, a crime that would be punishable by certain death; and afraid for life, she’d agreed to disappear instead. Ironically now she had become adept. Mastering of the dark arts. She was now capable of much black magick … And her spell was already at work.


To be continued?


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