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

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Incest, Cohesion, Corruption, Cuckold, NC, Rape, Sadism, Snuff, MC, Demons, Evil themes, Blasphemy, Young

AUTHORS NOTES: For my dearest friend `Sandra in Hell’, you are truly Satan’s Daughter to me. And thanks to my new but reluctant friend ‘Samantha the Succubus’. Thanks for the inspiration for this chapter (big black doggies).

CREATED: 11.06.2015 / REVISITED: 21.10.2023

Satan’s Daughter 5


With the dramatic death of her parents, twelve-year-old Sally Johnson was adopted by her psychologist, Dr. Dairy Harvey, together with her sister Elisa, aged six, and her brother Peter, aged eight. Dr. Harvey’s lawyer, Ms. Paula Winchester, had taken care of all the legal aspects. The five of them shared a secret about Sally’s identity and an understanding of the misinterpretation of Thessalonians, chapter 2, verse 3, which talked about the ‘man of sin’ who would be revealed, that the false prophet it spoke of was, in fact, Jezebel, the goddess of fornication, the true antichrist and the “Daughter of Satan”.

Meanwhile, our protagonist, Elizabeth Jasmine Mason, has been drawn into the evil world of the ‘Daughter of Satan’. Aided by her new Indian friend, Anuja, she is on the brink of a breakthrough, as her intent is to seduce her own ten-year-old daughter, the bespectacled Lucy, and inculcate her into devil worship and depravity. Separately her religious husband, John, begins to suspect there is something not quite right about the so-called Christian camp. He does not know what it is, our to the extent of their endangerment, but decides he had better investigate.


Lucy watched her mother leave the room from the corner of her eye. From behind, she had noticed that she was wearing a strange long gown, but Lucy did not give it much thought. Lucy just wanted to curl up on the comfortable couch and sleep in their suite.

She was not sure how long she had actually slept, but when Lucy awoke her puss-puss was already a little moist with the anticipation of some alone time to touch with herself beyond the prying eyes of her overly protective and righteous mother.

Though it was comfortable, she hated the idea of being at this religious camp. It was all so stupid. Religion was the bane of her existence. All this distance to do what? Praise the Lord God Almighty again. Big fucking deal. She hated going to Sunday school.

She hated all the Christian propaganda. She hated God. She hated the Saints. She hated Mother Mary and the fucking baby Jesus in the dumb manger. What she hated most was all those dumb-ass women all-praying to their doe-eyed martyr crucified upon the stupid wooden cross, Jesus-fucking-Christ. It was all so repressive and an insult to her intelligence. Who believed in this crap anyway? Oh yes, that’s right … her gullible mother.

With Elizabeth still gone, she idly toyed with the remote control switching on what she expected would be the usual array of children’s programs and cartoons – but to her complete and utter shock the image that filled the large flat screen monitor in full Technicolor was the image of two young girls wearing black dog collars – as the camera pulled back, Lucy could see both were completely naked. They were very young; as young as she was; their flat boyish chests and hairless mons were now on full display. She had never seen anything like it.

Her heartbeat pumped loudly in her ears.

The two girls in the movie draw each other close and begin to hug and kiss each other. Not a nice friendly hello kiss. This was a breathless tonsil-sucking kiss, a long slutty tongue-plunging kiss. Lucy gawped and squirmed with unexpected arousal. Her little cunt gushed at the sight of the two pre-teens whores fornicating. The gracile girls in the television show broke their Sapphic embrace; as an older girl, also completely naked beside a set of Halloween ‘demon horns’ upon her head’, directed them to both kneel between her splayed legs.

The older ‘demon’ girl vulgarly fingered her hairless slit, plunging in more fingers than Lucy ever thought to fit into her neat little puss-puss. She seemed depraved. The two young children knelt up and each sucked upon the older ones’ pre-offered fingers that were covered with her cunt slime. They sucked eagerly making coos of enjoyment, as they tasted her.

Lucy’s heart raced inside her little flat chest. Her lusty fingers found the spot as her hand snaked inside the stretchy fabric of her denim jeggings. Her middle digit pressed, with just the right pressure, in circles upon her underdeveloped clitoris. It sent shivers through her, followed by ripples of pre-orgasmic bliss.

The ‘demon’ girl in the movie ordered her two younger collared lovers with aplomb to ‘pray to the devil and eat her cunt’. Lucy wanted desperately to join the threesome. She too wanted to taste the ‘demon’ girl’s juices – to sink her tongue into her gaping cunt hole. She teased a finger inside her own moist pussy and then brought it to her mouth to taste – imagining it was the finger of the older girl.

“Mmmmmmm.” She moaned to herself.

The look on the ‘demon’ girl’s face was filled with wickedness as she humped and rutted against her young lover’s tongue in complete and utter ecstasy. Her caterwaul of cries for ‘praise the devil more’ were met first with fingers … then many fingers … and then by the whole hand of one of the girls who plunged it back and forth into her yawning vagina. Lucy could not believe how much the ‘demon’ girl could take. It was incredulous to see one of the young girls with her arm buried up to the elbow inside the older one. Her own orgasm was so close. Oh fuck it was good! Demons have more fun. Oh yes! Fuck yer!

“What do you think you are doing?” barked the voice of an adult from behind her.

Lucy turned in complete surprise.

“I … I … I …” she mumbled.

“Masturbator!” exclaimed the dark-skinned woman who grabbed hold of Lucy by the arm.

“Hey!” protested Lucy.

“I caught you in the act! FILTHY SINNER! FILTHY LITTLE WHORE! Touching yourself in the HOUSE of GOD!”

Bringing Lucy’s invidious fingers to the woman’s nose, the dark-skinned woman seemed to sniff at the offending digits as if conducting an investigation. Then to Lucy’s complete surprise, the dark woman tasted the residual left as a consequence of Lucy’s recent playtime.


She looked angry and offended by Lucy’s behavior, but there was almost an undertone of sadistic enjoyment of the situation. Lucy was confused. Lucy looked downwards. Fearful. Her glasses had fogged up on account of the tears that now flowed down her reddened cheeks. She knew she had been caught in the act. Touching her puss-puss whilst watching those nasty things.

It was not the first time. She knew masturbation was wrong. Forbidden before God. But she had persisted regardless. In fact, she had been masturbating for quite some time but had never combined masturbation and pornography before. It was potent. Girls with girls. She thought they called it Lesbianism or being queer.

Posing as demons. It was a sin – a huge sin. Yes, she had imagined making out before. With boys her age, especially with one boy called Mark from her science class – but never with other girls. This was something new. This was so thrilling – much more exciting than boys. She wanted to do it. She wanted to suck, lick and fuck like a Sapphic demon.


The Indian woman jerked her back into the reality of her current predicament. Lucy could not hide herself. She felt deeply embarrassed and humiliated. Surely her mother would find out. Surely her saintly mother would bring this transgression to her father, to the church, and to her teachers. She wanted to die. She wanted to vanish.

“Kneel MASTURBATOR!” commanded the aggressive Indian woman as she twisted Lucy’s wrist harder so that it forced her to kneel before her.

The loud groans of ecstasy from the video that, up to a minute before, had inspired Lucy to touch herself, now punctuated her total disgrace.

“Please, let me go. I won’t …”

“You won’t what? Do it again?”

“Please don’t tell my mother. Please!”

“Strip,” commanded her captor.

“What?” she asked.

“Take them off. Take off all your clothes. Filthy little sinner.”

The Indian woman loosened her grip to allow Lucy to comply. She did but not understanding what form of punishment lay ahead. All she could think about was the embarrassment and the humiliation as her family was told of what she had done. Now, kneeling naked before her captor, she felt totally exposed. She was now on display, for all to see her shame, her pale immature body, her carnation-pink nipples, and her hairless vagina still moist with arousal.

“Please don’t tell my mother. Please!”

The dark woman looked back momentarily over her shoulder towards the bathroom. Said nothing, but grinned. She removed Lucy’s glasses and the immediate world became blurred around her – Lucy’s shortsightedness now obscuring details into the overlapping ambiguity. Lucy twitched nervously as she was effectively blind beyond the two feet in every direction. The groans of ecstasy still punctuating the silence combined with her nakedness brought further tears of stigmata. She was truly exposed before her accuser.


Lucy could not see far enough to notice her own mother emerging from behind the bathroom door. Lucy could not see that both her mother, Elizabeth, and the dark woman, Anuja, had removed their clothing and were now both vigorously masturbating themselves at the sight of the naked young girl kneeling before them. Anuja stood before the girl so that her shaved mons affronted Lucy. She lifted Lucy’s bowed head and guided her mouth towards her sopping wet cunt.

“I will not tell your mother about your sinful behavior if you do what I tell you to do. Exactly what I tell you … without protest! Do you understand?”

“Yes. Anything! Please!”

“You seemed to think that what those evil whores were doing on the television was desirable? Well, it’s not. It’s disgusting. It’s perverted. It’s an offense before Almighty God. Only the children of Satan could enjoy such wickedness. Your punishment shall be the shame of eating my cunt out – you will learn that sex and perversion is evil. Only enjoyed by devil worshippers. Are you a devil worshipper?” asked the Indian woman.

“NO. NO. NO,” denied Lucy, “Please don’t tell my mother.”

She wept.


Lucy could smell the arousal of her capture. She was torn. Punishment? She was being taken advantage of. This was abuse – child abuse. Pedophilic. Sexual. Perverted. Nasty. She knew it. But still, her puss-puss throbbed with sinful delight – being caught in the act had brought a new delight – an unexpected delight. Her puss-puss needed attention so badly – it demanded to be touched, to be played with, to be filled and fucked.

“Do it you ungrateful little bitch! SLUT! WHORE!”

The humiliation had only added a further dimension to this new and exciting thrill. Though Lucy’s vision was impaired for long and medium distances, her shortsightedness enabled her to make out the fine detail in the dark woman’s vagina. The hairless mons looked inflamed and puffy from recent sexual activities; her dark skin contrasted against the crimson of her inner cunt flesh. Filled with the passion-blood of arousal. She leaned forward and tentatively licked the woman’s outer labia. It tasted salty and sour.


She could smell the woman’s filthy anus. It was pungent but not unpleasant. She remembered how she liked to touch her own anus during masturbation, smelling her naughty fingertips as they had brushed with the brownish hole and even tasting them afterward – enjoying the very wickedness of the taboo.

“OH YER, LICK ME YOU LITTLE CUNT SLUT,” directed the dark woman guiding her tongue over her erect clitoris.

She licked at the dark woman with gusto, lapping at it and then sucking the woman’s bud like a little cock. Her mouth was awash with the taste of briny cunt syrup.


Lucy was rewarded with long and cat calls of the dark woman’s obvious enjoyment. With the middle finger of one hand pressed against Lucy’s own clit and the other stroking the woman’s sullied rectum, she alternated between sucking her clit and plunging her mouth and tongue over the woman’s opening, mimicking what she had seen as a pornographic dilettante.


“My turn,” announced another distant voice.

Lucy felt her sticky wet face being guided to another, even more, rancid smelling cunt — a white hairless cunt with equally disdained labia, sodden and wet with arousal. Needing of attention, needing of sucking and licking.

“SATAN BE PRAISED … the LITTLE BITCH SUCKS CUNT WELL!” announced the dark-cunt to white-cunt.


There was a brief moment of panic inside Lucy’s mind; that was followed by a strange sensation that almost passed as a passive acknowledgment of the words MOTHER’S CUNT.

A metaphor?

Maybe even completely rejecting them altogether. These were words that she would never have ever imagined ever being spoken. LICK YOUR MOTHER’S CUNT. She reeled inside. Confused beyond recognition. She felt helpless falling into a bottomless pit. LESBIAN INCEST.

The shock of it all held her suspended, as her fingers and tongue continued to feverishly mouth-fuck the greasy gash standing before her childish face. The hands of the dark-cunt pressed her harder against the fat clit of the white-cunt. Her face was drenched in the pungency of their combined juices.

“Worship the cunt that gave birth to you … UNGRATEFUL bitch. Fucking slut daughter. Fuck yer,” praised the dark-cunt, “HAIL THE LORD OF DARKNESS. Satan be praised. OH, YER! Incest is such a beautiful thing.”

“OH FUCK YER. I’M CUMMING! … URGHHHHHHHHHHHH! …” yelled the white-cunt as she bucked wildly against Lucy’s face.

Lucy felt disassociated as the dark-cunt lifted her up from her knees. The blurred figure of the white-cunt lay down, prostrate upon the thick rug in front of her. Lucy was being positioned so that her body was lowered over the face of the white one, while the dark-cunt returned to being the object of her own oral toil. This time she no longer had to pleasure herself, as the mouth below her, the one they called her mother, was amorously sucking upon her tiny slit. The girth of the women’s tongue, pressed against the walls of the inside of her vagina, pressing upwards against her hymen. The tongue pressed hard against it. The pleasure was intense as Lucy felt mouth, lips, tongue, and fingers all working upon her – much better than anything she had experienced on her own. Lucy felt thick fingers pressed against her hymen. The pressure was only slight followed by a short but sharp pain.

“That’s it SINNER … bleed for your MOTHER … let her taste the rupture of your bloody innocence. Hail Satan. Hail Satan!”

Lucy looked downwards. She squinted to see. A little red blur over the shameful face of her own mother.



Friar Thomas eagerly rubbed the oily flesh of his rock-hard cock and teased his low-hanging testicles as he gawped through the little peephole. Up. Down. Up. Down. His hand movements increased their pace with every passing moment.

“OHHH … fuck yerrrrrrrrr!” he groaned to himself.

He drew his cock flesh up and down, enjoying every stroke, faster and faster toward his own personal ecstasy. The witches were in their full ritual regalia, but still their nakedness of clearly visible from where he hid.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

The feeling was building towards a total cum-spurting crescendo. He could see the young witch, the one that was called Sally. She seemed to always be the center of their attention – this one was always completely naked. Her nubile child-like body made him pump himself harder.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

He loved to fuck young boys, but she was the abomination. Spawn from the seed of the devil. So fucking hot. He had witnessed her evil and wicked acts. Acts of heresy. Acts of Satanic lust. He marveled at how she had taken the disembodied penis of the dark stallion, freshly severed and had conjoined with it — creating the unholy hermaphrodite.

Without doubt, he knew it was black magick that made it twitch and pulsate with a life of its own, forming part of her, erect in bestial praise that only the offspring of demons could animate.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Faster.

He was so close to an earth-shattering orgasm just watching the young girl fuck her worshipping witches, whilst endowed with the horse’s long thick cock. They were all fucking whores. They were all fucking whores of Satan.


He came hard, his seminal fluids shooting into his open mouth. Spurt after spurt. An inhuman orgasm – so long in duration that his knees felt too weak to support his own body weight. Even after his satanic orgasm subsided his cock remained rock hard. Oh, how he loved it. He was a complete masturbation addict. He loved cumming hard. It was those whores. God bless the whores!

Before they came to his house of God, he could only remember his flaccidity. His impotence. His tiny shriveled excuse of a penis. The pleasures of the flesh had been forgotten to him, forgotten in exchange for his pious faith in a fruitless God.

He remembered when they first came to the monastery. They had killed the old Abbott and a few of the sisters that were most loyal to him. Paraded them naked before their evil phallic idol. Castrated the old Abbott. Staked them. Then eat them all. Cannibal witches. He had been so afraid back then. In fear of them.

But his cock, become hard. Hard as nails. In the presence of the young one – his cock was never flaccid. He had never experienced such depraved desires. His balls were always full of salty semen. Oh divine whores! What satanic orgasms he had. Orgasm after satanic orgasm. Bless those fucking witch whores! Bless them!

Before, the other nuns of the monastery had been so condescending to him, so aloft to his presence; so full of their parsimoniousness. Their tedious holy grace and imbecilic piousness. They too had feared the witch-whores. At first, they wanted no part of this pagan sacrilege.

They either hid themselves away. Some even took their own lives in desperation. But one by one they succumb to the temptations of the child’s wanton fresh. Worshiping with their exposed genitals – masturbating before the dark altar and partaking in the ‘THE RITUALS OF THE TRUE GOD’. Now they all served witch-whores.

They acted like whores too. They openly worshiped the god of the witches. Devil worship it was. Drinking their own menstrual blood. A baptism in urine. Conjoined in their perverted rituals to serve the young hermaphrodite. The one they used to call Sally. She was the “Daughter of Satan”.

No doubt. Lucifer’s own. Made of demonic seed.

Their flabby old cunts dripped with their own arousal. How they all loved his cock now, Friar Thomas’s cock. Hard and wanton. Wanted it day and night. Needed it. Sucking him. Offering him their every hole. Yes, bless the witch whores! Amen.


John Mason closed the train door and took a seat next to the window. It was a long trip to make and he hoped that it would all be to no avail. But in the back of his mind, he had a nagging feeling that something was not right about the so-called “Christian Camp”. He had found the destination details purely by chance and had thought about nothing else for the past day or so. Was his poor wife and child in any trouble? Was he just being paranoid?

He seemed to oscillate from one extreme to the other. Elizabeth would be very disappointed by his lack of trust. But he would counter that with his concern and care for both of them. She would forgive him eventually. She had to. She would see how much she meant to him. By the grace of God. He knew that their marriage had been strained; sometimes he had been an annoying and impossible husband. Relationships were always difficult. At least he would be sure that they were safe and sound.

The train lurched forward and then started out of the station. There was no turning back now. Whatever the outcome, it was for the best. His impatience showed as he could not settle down. John closed his eyes and tried to pray to the Lord for the strength of righteousness.

“And when I am weak, then I am strong.”

For him, this was an important truth. He knew in his heart of hearts that everyone had things that they struggled with. Things that at times seem to overwhelm them. These were the times of his life when he knew that he could invite God Almighty, the living God, to inhabit his soul and bring His strength and power to bear. The help he had needed in those times, he knew came from God’s goodness, strength, and courage — when in need of guidance it would be there.

“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me,” he recited to himself.

Yes, he thought to himself, it is the thorn that I feel. The thorn in my flesh. I must thank God for this gift against conceitedness — to see the torments of Satan as God’s way of reminding us of what is truly righteous.


Dr. Daisy and Ms. Paula, dressed in their white simple vestments, knelt quietly before Sally who stood naked before her audience. Behind Dr. Daisy and Ms. Paula knelt a new mother to their grouping, Sarah and her nine-year-old son, William. Things had not gone so well for little William, as he had refused her mother’s seduction and had sought the help of the old nuns, not knowing that all paths led to the altar and to the ‘THE RITUALS OF THE TRUE GOD’.

Seeing the perverted temple for the first time in all its wickedness was totally overwhelming to him. He had been delivered into the hands of the Devil himself – He also realized that there would be no escaping his fate at the hands of his sex-crazed and incestuous mother.

“William,” said Sally in a calm and unhurried manner.

Dr. Daisy and Ms. Paula moved aside and allowed Sarah to bring her son forward to kneel before the naked girl.

“William my dear. Please remove your gown.”

“I don’t want to. I want to go home. This is a bad place.”

Sally smiled.

Two of the old nuns stepped forward and held William by the arms. Despite their age, they were strong from years of monastery chores. Strong backs, legs, and arms, now doing the Devil’s work.

“William, I was once like you. I resisted the way of the TRUE GOD.”

“You’re all crazy people. Let me go. LET ME GO. STAY AWAY FROM ME – you are like them – a monster!” William cried.

He twisted against his captors. Tears filled his little doe-eyes that begged for release.

Sally vigorously rubbed the long black cock of the stallion that rose upwards from her groin. A monster, part female, part male, part human, part animal? A hermaphrodite child. Yes, she was a monster. She took the long sacrificial knife from the altar. Its blade caught the light of the thousand candles that burned around them.

William’s eyes were wide open and he stiffened thinking the worst. The mad naked girl was going to kill him. Instead, Sally used it to cut the white gown away from William’s body. William let out a sigh of relief but crumbled in nervousness against the restraint of the vice-like grip of the two old nuns. Sally approached the now naked boy and ran her fingers across his chest, over his petite boy’s waist, down between his legs to take hold of his flaccid penis.

“Mmmmmmm,” moaned Sally, “So pure. So innocent. Such a tasty morsel for the hounds.”

“Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please,” sobbed William.

“Bring him to the altar bed,” commanded Sally.

The nuns did her bidding bringing the naked boy to the front edge of the altar bed, binding his wrists and ankles to the upright bedposts. Dr. Daisy and Ms. Paula stripped from the ritual gowns, touching themselves and each other in anticipation of the rape ritual. Seeing them all naked, Sarah also removed her gown too. She wanted nothing more than her son’s cock. She wanted to take his hard little cock into her hot greedy mouth, to taste his pre-cum and semen. She had fantasized about it so many times while her husband, William’s father, slept haplessly beside her in their marital bed. She wanted to kneel across his face desperately and have him suck her wanton-dripping cunt.

“Ooh, make it hard! Make his little cock hard. I need it in me!” encouraged Sarah.

She rubbed her clit as hard as she could. Dr. Daisy steered Sarah to the bed. The both of them climbed onto the altar bed in front of her bound son. Dr. Daisy encouraged her to fondle her son, to molest him as he stood helplessly.

“Bring me my hounds,” ordered Sally.

Two more old nuns entered the chapel. They brought with them the ‘hounds of hell’. The three large black dogs jerked and pulled against the thick chain leashes and spiked collars that held them fast. Even then, the strong old nuns struggled to control them. The dogs looked rabid. Saliva poured from the bared canines.

The young naked boy looked nervously over his shoulder. He could see that between their hind legs, their angry red-purple knots were fully extended from the oily pelts. They were aroused to the point of desperation. Holding them a safe distance, the dogs could only reach William with their long wet tongues.

“Please don’t hurt. PLEASE, TAKE THE DOGS AWAY. PLEASE!” begged the boy in desperation.

The fear in his voice was palpable, as the witches masturbated furiously in the adrenaline of sadistic excitement. The three frenzied dogs slobbered over the boy’s exposed genitals and anal opening. William pissed himself in complete fear.


Sally signaled to the nuns and they released the first of the three dogs. As the dog jumped up with his front legs, his weight pinned the young child forward against the altar bed. The fervent dog mounted him.

“AAGRRRRHHHHHHHHH …” The boy screamed as the rabid dog’s sharp claws pierced the boy’s delicate white flesh.

The dog’s powerful hind legs thrust hard against William’s exposed behind in a frenzy to get his blood-engorged knot inside the boy’s tight little anus. After a dozen or so unsuccessful attempts, the dog finally got his reward. The young child did not stand a chance. Moving at a ferocious pace, the hound of hell pounded William until his frail lithe body hung loosely, dancing like a ragdoll upon the altar bed.

“Praise the FATHER!” commanded Sally.



The sun was setting behind heavy storm clouds as John Mason arrived at the single-track train station. Droplets of rain were drumming on the tin roof of the platform that looked almost abandoned dressed in its coat of peeling posters and dingy browned windows. John got off, running for cover as he watched as the train pulled away.

Several overhead fluorescent lamps hummed and flickered. He squinted in the poor light at the travel instructions. Was he in the right place? The old monastery was supposed to be a short but very wet walk from this decrepit old train station. An elderly man dressed in a dull grey uniform was slumped in a corner, taking a nap.

“Excuse me. I am looking for the old monastery?” John enquired.

The station guard looked up at him in the poor light. Half awake. Half asleep.

“What? You looking for the old monastery?”

He vaguely pointed in the direction beyond the platform.

“It’s that way up the hill. But you won’t want to go there.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“It’s not right. You know. All those religious types up there. They’re always up to some kind of mischief. Sick if you ask me. I’d stay right away if I were you, Sir. Steer clear of them, I say.”

“It’s my wife and daughter – I believe they are there. I was worried for them.”

The old station guard looked compassionately at John.

“Wife? Daughter? Oh dear! Worried? Oh dear. I shouldn’t be saying anything. But I have heard stories. The locals down the village, say there are witches up there. After the old abbot died. They say …” he paused, “They say the witches murdered him, they do.”

“Oh my. Well. Sorry to have troubled you. Now I must find my wife and daughter.”

“If you must. They aren’t very welcoming. Not sure if you get into the monastery after sundown? They don’t take kindly to visitors.”

John decided to ignore this unreliable man.

“Don’t like visitors,” the old station guard repeated.

John dismissed his words for that of a ranting old fool. Mischief? Witches? Murder? It all sounded completely ridiculous! It was late. It was almost dark now. He had to find Elizabeth and Lucy. He had to know that they were safe.

The rain was now pelting down as the weather studiedly getting worse. John pulled the collars up on his jacket, buttoned it up, and began to jog up the hill in the twilight darkness.


Friar Thomas was almost finished in bolting the heavy wooden shutters as the storm began to unleash. He, like the other monks, had all been instructed to stay away from the old chapel tonight on account of some grand witch ritual or another. He cared not for it. The hungry old nuns would never be sate and they would sort after his rigid cock sooner or later – in the meanwhile, he’d return to spying on them and the enjoyment of his constant masturbatory paradise.

As he made his last rounds a late night visitor confronted him. The man was already saturated from head to foot. He claimed that his wife and child were somewhere in the monastery – that they were there on some religious mission. Though the Friar was on strict instructions forbidding visitation, he brought the man in under the cover of the cloister and listened to his story. He seemed desperate and concerned for their whereabouts and safety.

“Father. Father. My apologies for the lateness of the hour. I am in need of assistance in locating the whereabouts of my wife and young child,” pleaded the stranger.

“Come back tomorrow. The monastery is closed,” answered the Friar with just a hint of irritation.

“Please, I beg you. I am worried about them. I just need to know that they are safe and sound. Their names are Elizabeth Mason and Lucy Mason. I have a picture of them here… please take a look.”

He pressed to damp photograph into the Friar’s hand.

Thomas took the picture of the man underdressed for the severity of the weather conditions. Lightning lit up the black sky and seconds later a corresponding clap of thunder resounded. The Friar tried not to appear as indifferent as he actually felt. The faces did look familiar.

He saw many of the witches’ followers – so many perverted disciples that gathered to pay homage and be engrossed in the endless orgies and the inhumanity of their ritual sacrifices. Devils. They were always young women, so very beautiful, often accompanied by children – lithe boys and girls brought to the monastery to perform perverted sexual acts for the enjoyment of that demon. Many disappeared at the hands of the witches – their exact fate unclear.

“Please, Sir. Have you seen them?” begged the man desperate for answers.

“Well, I don’t know,” hesitated the old Friar.

“She’s only ten-years-old. Her name is Lucy. My daughter … have you seen her?”

Thomas thought about the procession of women dressed in their ritual vestments, followed by their near-naked children dressed only in simple white loin clothes – it was to be their initiation ceremony. They would all be joined in celebration – a young child or maybe a newborn would be offered.

This was the Witch’s Sabbath.

The altar would be bloody tonight. The witches would be furious if they discovered anyone here who was not supposed to be. He had seen what they were capable of doing to those who stood in the way of their evil will. The Devil was amongst them.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” suggested Thomas.

He pointed the man towards the direction of the dormitory. If the man were found here in the cloister, there would be hell to pay.

“Thank you,” he responded wincing at another thunder strike.

Thomas led the way through the labyrinth of corridors and opened a heavy oak door to an antechamber. An open fireplace lit the darkened room.

“Come rest here a moment. I have an idea of what to do,” reassured Thomas as he ushered the man closer to the fire.

John was eager to find out about his wife and child but was accepting of the Friar’s kind hospitality. John stood for a moment by the warming light. He had not realized how tired he was. The Friar offered him a hot drink and he gladly sipped the strange beverage that left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

“Undress and I will bring you something,” warmed the Friar as he disappeared out the door again.

John was soaked to the skin. Running through the deluge had left him exhausted. His emotional plight only accentuated his feeling of being drained. He slowly peeled off his wet clothing by the fireplace until he stood naked as the warming flames. He felt a slight giddiness that was accompanied by the sensation of lightheaded.


What had he drunk? Was it the fatigue or something else? Looking around the antechamber he noticed for the first time, the low king-sized bed with tall phallic-like bedposts. As his eyes became more accustomed to the light he saw other strange adornments unbefitting of a monastery.

A blasphemous crucifix — ornately carved with the depiction of the naked Savior, the crown of thorns, the puncture wounds in his exacerbated torso, his penis fully erect and pointing upward towards heavenly delights. A semi-circle of wooden chairs surrounded the bed as if positioned for spectatorship. At the center of the seat of each chair was a wooden phallus curving upwards as if to impale its occupant.

John was simply too drowsy to join the dots as he was consumed with the desire to find his loved ones. But the lightheadedness had a strange effect on his libido. There seemed to be an internal heat growing from his groan. His usual flaccidity had been replaced with a raging hard-on. Thoughts of his lost daughter and wife seem to be fading quickly. He wanted to stroke himself. He needed to stroke his weak flesh. It seemed a sacrilege, but undeniably urgent.

The door opened and the Friar returned, not with dry clothing, but was accompanied by a procession of six young boys. John’s first reaction was to conceal his sexual arousal, but before he could say or do anything he was surrounded by the samaneras-like youths with their smooth hairless bodies and shaved heads.

They wasted no time removing their crude coverings and soon their immature hands were all over his body, touching his rampant penis, testicles, and anus – fueling his ungodly desires. The Friar too, was no longer dressed; two young boys took turns at suckled upon the large mushroom head of his engorged cock as he orchestrated John’s seduction.

The four naked young boys pulled John playfully onto the bed, one stoking his cock, while another kissed his mouth. They pushed him back until he lay flat upon the dirty stained mattress, each taking a limb and attaching a studded leather strap that when pulled tightly would hold him spread-eagled. Between his legs, they attached a spreader, and around his neck, a matching leather chocker.

The door opened and more sissy samaneras entered. They all stripped naked exposing their little hard cocks; each with a puffy girl chest crowned with effeminate areolas and thimble-thick nipples. Each took their place in the semi-circle, hovering above the phallic protrusions that pointed upwards towards their oiled rectums. The boys on the bed were now taking turns, feasting on John’s cock and balls. Wet with their saliva, John had never felt so big and hard in all his life.


It was just after sundown in the old chapel. The alcoves of the stained glass windows were illuminated with the lightning. The gathering before the dark altar of THE RITUALS OF THE TRUE GOD had just begun as it always did with the formalities of initiation. The Missa Niger – the Black Mass.

The witch-whores of the Devil’s Coven and the new occultist mothers were naked beneath their sleeveless vestments while their children dressed plainly in white loincloths. The young ones lined up, each with a rosary inserted into their anus, as preparing for their confirmation. It was to be a complete mockery of the Christian Sacrament of Confirmation, the initiation that reached its culmination in the communion of the Body and Blood of Christ – the rite of satanic baptism to affirm their incest covenant.

The pre-initiation had already spoilt the virginity of their young girls. In a parody and inversion, they had all bleed. Substituting ‘evil’ for ‘good’; and the ‘devil’ for ‘god’, they openly mocked the Christian god and proclaimed their delight in the sexual worship of Satan. All were very excited. They had all indulged in the devilments of incest, both parent and child pledging their allegiance to their true god, Satan.

Most, if not all, of the young boys, already tented the thin material of the loincloths in anticipation of more sexual abuse. Some even ventured to touch each other as they waited impatiently for the final dark initiation and human sacrifice to commence.

Young Lucy stood in line in front of Jinn, the son of Anuja, whose cock had filled her baby cunt with his semen only hours beforehand, under the guidance of his dark Indian mother with Elizabeth’s full participation of Elizabeth. Even now, Lucy and Jinn could not stop themselves from frotting themselves against each other – eager addicts to their highly potent satanic orgasms.

Dark magic filled this place; demonic power seeped from every crevice. The very walls reverberated with a sexual resonance like the distortions of a desert heat haze – vibrating every molecule within. It was the unholy night of the Devil’s Sabbath. The air was thick with hallucinogenic white smoke released into the temple from black candles made from diabolic ingredients mixed with the fat of sacrificed babies.

Elizabeth rubbed her eyes in disbelief as the hagiographical stained glass windows that had depicted scenes of saints malformed in silicon liquidity. Lit up by the frequent lightning strikes, Copper oxide, cobalt, and gold running together, mutating to reveal new hellish scenes… scenes of naked children tortured by red skin hermaphrodite demons with enormous phallic appendages… boiled, burnt, hang, crucified, raped, and eaten alive. Their faces of terror and torment offered thrills that Elizabeth had been scared to admit enjoyment of until this point. Now their true infliction was to her a true ecstasy of sadistic and demonic lust.

The twin High Priestesses, Dr. Daisy, and Ms. Paula stood proudly before their congregation, both hermaphroditic in their transformation, one with the penis of a large dog and the other with that of a goat. Tonight was to be the night of medieval magic, witchcraft, and sacrificial death.

Two young female celebrants brought forth the young boy, William. Completely naked besides a goat-like mask with large horns, he was fully erect and walked almost trance-like. His mother, Sarah, was delighted that he had been chosen as the bearer of a newborn to be offered in sacrifice to Satan – to be impaled upon the stallion’s phallus that stood erect and rampant from the loins of their necromancer goddess, Satan’s Daughter.

Satan’s daughter stood behind the dark altar. Upon the altar was the black chalice of blood and a gold chalice of urine, together with sacramental wafers soaked in urine, menstrual blood, and semen. She was Jezebel. The antichrist. The daughter of ‘Prince of Darkness’. Her black-skinned phallus stood upright against her childish frame. With hands held aloft, she praised her father, her evil liturgy calling upon the demons of hell to bring forth and unleash their dark sexual energy to lead her congregation into extreme sexual perversion.


To be continued?


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