Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent 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 unlawful activity as the story describes. 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 they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: Oral Slave 666
Subject: SATAN’S VILLAGE 6
Link: LS666 Email / 07.01.2025
Satan’s Village 6 – Bad Boys/Good Boy
“I love this fucking town!” screamed Betsy as she shuddered and came on Tony’s Big Black Cock covering him with squirt.
She rolled onto the wet bed, and her husband was right on him, licking the Jamaican clean. Tony couldn’t stand the stimulation for long and pushed him off, and the cuckold was on his wife’s pussy and its three loads like Tink on Pan’s cock. The couple was spent. This was their third day in Satan’s Village. They had been fucking nonstop and had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep. Bill dozed off with his glistening face still in her snatch, and she was soon softly snoring.
The ebony titan rose from the bed, looked at the sleeping couple, and chuckled. He rose to his full seven feet height and stretched his muscled arms and legs. His bald head and magnificent body shone with sweat. He was a happy immigrant to town, a local now, an employee. The Priestess had recruited him when she was in the Caribbean studying voodoo. She had found him selling himself to tourists in an alleyway, tweaked, malnourished, dirty, looking more like a giant mangy stray than a human. She had saved him but at a price.
Looking down at the couple, his smile became a wicked grin, the kind of grin that would scare a child. His cock was hard again and bobbed up and down. He reached down and spread the ample ass cheeks of the sleeping man, spit on his hole, and then slowly pushed his massive head through his sphincter.
Bill groaned but was too spent for anything to wake him. Tony fucked him, stretching him out completely and making his ass bleed. He rammed it in balls deep again and again, finally grunting and filling him with another load. It was rape, and the streaks of blood on his cock attested to this. Part of him relished it.
To be precise, it was the part of him that made him a superhuman stud, able to go for days nonstop and do things the rest of him found distasteful. Things like shitting in a supermodel’s mouth or beating a Congresswoman near to death then sodomizing her for two hours.
Then there was the time his cock and ass were worshipped by a couple and their four kids while he jerked off standing, shooting into their open mouths at the end while a slave made a family video. These were consensual acts requested by tourists and condoned by the Priestess. But his human part was not in charge then, just observing and cringing.
Most of the time, he was in control, especially in all the boring day-to-day tasks of being a person. But when excess lust was required, or simply desired, the demon that lay waiting in the dark recesses of his mind would take over, and he could only watch. The demon Luxure, a female, loved the darkest of perversity and was delighted to have such a beautiful “tool” that she gleefully used to inflict both pleasure and pain. Tony had agreed to be possessed when the Priestess had offered to remove his meth addiction and budding insanity.
She had saved him. Physically and mentally, he was perfect since then, but being forced to commit these acts along with the demon’s constant whispering of even more vile atrocities (“Why don’t you just cut off his balls and eat them?”) whittled away at his soul day by day. The Village did specify that all sex be consensual, but the demon didn’t care. Could the Priestess control it? He could not.
Thor looked at the “Religious” implements laid out in the front window of the Diabolical Arts store and almost gagged in disgust and anger. And, despite the brilliant sunshine that had burned off the mist from the forested hillsides, he felt the darkness that lived in everything and everyone in this town.
Helga felt it too, but to her, it was the warm darkness of the womb, wet and loving, something to be embraced, not feared. Walking close to her brother made her feel warm as well. She had skipped wearing a bra and panties this morning and felt the flannel rub against her hard nipples and the denim pressing against her clit.
“Look at that!” Thor pointed to a wooden crucifix that was displayed inverted.
Its longer end had been carved into a detailed penis two and a half inches thick.
“Such sacrilege!”
Next to this was an obsidian chalice inlaid in silver with alternating penises and vaginas. Thor didn’t want to think about what vile thing might be served in it. Next to this were what looked like rosary beads but with a pentagram and beads that were much too large.
“What is that for do you think?”
“Well,” she said softly and with a titter, “I think they’re made for praying, but are meant to be inserted somewhere rather than held.”
Two pubescent girls in tank tops and shorts that showed off their pert asses giggled seeing Thor’s reaction. They were licking suckers shaped like rainbow-colored, erect penises with balls.
“Your boyfriend’s hot,” the blond one said, ignoring Thor and running her tongue over her lips.
“Oh,” Helga replied, surprised by her blushing, “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”
But she wanted him to be hers to hold. She wanted him to fuck her till she couldn’t walk then fuck her some more. And the wanting felt so good. No, no. Forgive me, God.
“Good. Then we won’t need to share him with you — unless you want?”
The two turned and ran down the street laughing. Thor led Helga into the store.
“Ave Satanas,” said the prettiest, perkiest girl Thor had ever seen from behind the glass counter.
Her red hair was in pig tails and her cheeks glowed with freckles. She radiated purity, and her sunflower sun dress was modest by Village standards and did not reveal how much her breasts had matured.
“Welcome to Diabolic Arts.”
Thor and Helga both nodded. The girl was an innocent ray of sunshine in this dark valley, thought Thor. Here stood amid all this blasphemy and wickedness. On the counter in front of her was a two foot tall statue of Baphomet in volcanic stone complete with goat head and horns, breasts, and a large phallus that pointed to the sky. Thor was repulsed; Helga licked her lips and adjusted her jeans.
“Would you like to try some of our cookies or candies?” she asked in a voice so sweet it must be heaven-sent.
She motioned to the array under the glass. On the right were cookies in the shape of penises with scrotums, close-up vaginas complete with a whiff of frosting for hair, and buttocks spread to show a candy anus in the middle. These were in multiple colors. In the left case, the cookies looked the same except that they were either flesh-colored or dark brown. There were also white and yellow gumdrops.
“The multicolored ones are regular cookies and candies.”
She pointed to the left case.
“These taste like what they resemble: cock, pussy, and ass,” she said with disgust.
Thor wrinkled his nose; Helga’s eyes got bigger.
“The white gum drops taste like semen, the yellow taste like urine, and the brown — It’s totally disgusting,” she whispered, leaning over the counter. Helga kept staring at the goodies.
“Ugghh. Well, I think we’ve seen enough,” Thor declared, though he would have liked to know the girl better, “Thank you?”
“Chastity,” she pointed to her nametag, “Chastity Faith Willows. Are you sure you don’t want to try some samples?” she asked looking at Helga, who seemed about to speak.
“Definitely not,” he replied.
As he turned to leave, Chastity/Slut grabbed a handful of flesh-colored goodies and gum drops, threw them in a bag, and handed them to Helga who secreted them in her backpack.
“Later.”
Sade watched the pair leave through the police station window, but couldn’t tell if they were any more corrupted. He would prefer to do things his way, battle and capture, torture and execution. It was a sure thing and much more fun. He stroked his cock a little faster imaging it.
“I’m ready bitch,” he said to the deputy who was stroking beside him.
Asmo got on his knees and opened his mouth as the sheriff pumped his load in six spurts. It was running down his chin and he scooped it up with his fingers and licked them. You never wasted cum in the valley. It didn’t get Asmo off, but he did like being a bitch — on occasion.
Yeah, Sade wanted to fuck that half-breed angel’s ass till it bled, then make him lick his cock clean, then make him watch as he did the same to his sister. Sade was not possessed: his demon was his own.
He had been born with it and learned to love it. He had been a mercenary for many years before the Priestess had recruited him. She had told him at the time that she had mixed feelings about his sadistic nature but thought it might be useful in his new role on occasion. He was hoping this might be one of those occasions.
THE END OF CHAPTER SIX