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 © 2024 LITTLESALLY666.

STORY CODES: Religious themes, Supernatural, Age-Play, Demonic/Satanic, Abuse, Corruption, NC, Rape, Abortion, Snuff.

AUTHOR NOTES: Maybe best read immediately after Secrets 2, as it is a continuation?

CREATED: 01.07.2024

Secrets 3


“Everybody has secrets, everybody lies, and everybody cheats …” EK Blair

Tomas. Outwardly he had the facade of a devout and upright man. He was a regular at church services. He was the owner of a Christian bookshop. But bookish Tomas had a dark secret. At forty-two he’d experienced little in life but craved everything that was not permitted by his godly beliefs. He longed for forbidden things, dark things, nasty things.

Angelica. She was the devout wife of a preacher. She was a volunteer at the local convent orphanage looking after the young disadvantaged children. She never complained or had a harsh word to say about her husband’s long hours dedicated to his religious duties and serving his needy parishioners. But petite little Angelica had a dark secret. It was a heinous and twisted secret that churned deep inside her — that made her wish for the wickedness to consume her.

So Tomas met Angelica.

Would it be that they would be fooled by each other’s pious disguises; or would they see each other for who they truly were? … They sat that there is a war going on inside everybody. One side is greedy, wicked, selfish, and evil; while the other is kind, caring, loving, and gentle. Which one wins? Well, that depends upon which one you feed!


  • Mr. Tomas Stern – Owner of “The Zion Bookshop”, short, effeminate, 42
  • Mrs. Angelica (Angel) Bartholomew – Christian, married to Father Eaton, 46
  • Father Eaton Bartholomew – Angel’s husband, preacher/priest, 58
  • Sister Magnolia – Young nun, 26
  • William – 13-year-old orphan
  • Tabatha – 9-year-old small, petite orphan
  • Jules – goth, transgender, 23



“If the taking of pleasure is enhanced by the criminal character of the circumstances — if, indeed, the pleasure taken is directly proportionate to the severity of the crime involved — then is it not criminality itself which is pleasurable, and the seemingly pleasure-producing act nothing more than the instrument of its realization? …” ― Marquis de Sade

Angelica dreamt of a great evil. She’d bitten her lip in all the perverted excitement and there was now an iron-like taste of her blood in the back of her throat. Surrounding her, in this evil dreamworld, were the sounds of unnatural sexual gratification.

”Bring me my sacrifice,” growled the Black Goat demon.

From the rear, Angelica’s naked body appeared as she normally did. Petite and almost childlike in her proportions. But from the front, it was very obvious, from Angelica’s huge bloated stomach, that she was almost “full term” and ready to give birth.

The effeminate acolytes, their faces hidden behind hideous goat masks, pressed her forward before their idol, the black goat. Angelica watched as the black goat began to auto-fellate. The demon rubbed the thick veined-shaft of its enormous erect cock. Its forked tongue slithered out from between its lips to lick its own bulbous cock-head. The demon’s fingers were wrapped around it in a tight fist, poundering up and down, as the demon gorged itself upon its own phallus.

The demon’s wide goat-like mouth only stopping briefly to grin evilly down at her. Angelica watched. Mesmerized. She grinned back — as she knew those distinctive eyes — they were the eyes of her perverted lover, Tomas.

“Hail! Hail the Black Goat!” cried the excited young acolytes.

Angelica was brought forth before the demon. The acolytes forced her to lay down upon the large paddled altar bed that was spread out before the Black Goat’s demonic throne. Once on her back, her stomach looked even more obscenely huge, bulging upwards, against her small girlish frame.

She felt incredibly horny. Her cunt was literally on fire.

The young acolytes huddled eagerly around her as they began to chant their evil magick.

“Beatus capra niger daemon. Beatus capra niger daemon. Omnes ave capellam nigram. Omnes ave capellam nigram. Masturbate ante nigrum caprum. Masturbate ante nigrum caprum. Fetu edito foetu. Non baptizatos edat fetus. Interfice foetum. Non baptizatum interfice foetum. Animam ad Orcum tolle. Satanae animam suam sume …”

(Blessed is the black goat demon. Blessed is the black goat demon. All hail the black goat. All hail the black goat. Masturbate before the black goat. Masturbate before the black goat. Eat her unborn fetus. Eat her unbaptised fetus. Kill the unborn fetus. Kill the unbaptised fetus. Take its soul to Hell. Take its soul to Satan …)

Their soprano voices were not sweet. More like guttural screeching. Angelica didn’t try to understand the words of their demonic chant but she felt their evil hymn make her unborn fetus move violently inside her — all she thought about was fucking the acolytes … then fucking the black goat.

They appeared more preteen than adult. All skin and bone; tightly concave buttocks, and cocks that appeared completely out of proportion to the rest of their litheness — their slight, hairless bodies were all slick and shimmering with the same reddish oils that covered Angelica in its slickness.

The acolytes groped at her body and rubbed themselves against her and against each other. She felt them, thrusting their excited serpent-like genitals, against her from all directions. She was surrounded by their greasy testicles and fat cocks as they pressed aggressively against her — their narrow hips bucking back and forth — frotting wildly against her back, legs, blotted stomach, and face.

“Bring me her fetus!” growled the Black Goat.

The acolytes mauled at her slippery body. They gripped her breasts hard. They thrust their fingers mercilessly into her horny cunt and anus. In Angelica’s twisted mind — she understood them — she was their sacrifice. Her pregnancy was their offering. The fetus belonged to their demon god. She was impregnated to acquire an unbaptized soul. Her miscarriage in exchange for eternal sexual pleasure. Evil pleasure. Perverted pleasure. She craved it as much as the Black Goat … as much as Tomas did … and his goat-faced demon children.

This was paradise in hell.

Angelica grabbed the nearest boy and pressed her mouth upon his thick swollen cock — sucking his precum-dripping cock-head. At the same time, she felt the others eager to penetrate her whorish ass and cunt. So much young hard cock. Her body could never accommodate them all — not whilst filled with sacrificial fetuses. Sexual abuse at this late stage of pregnancy would automatically trigger a miscarriage. They were going to literally fuck the fetus out of her … and she couldn’t wait.


The morning church service began with the choir singing, “How Great Thou Art.”

Angelica stood in the third row from the front of the church pews. It gave her an excellent view of the proceedings. She watched her husband, Father Eaton, walk passed her and towards the Holy altar. He was dressed in his ceremonial red vestments for the “Feast of Suffering”. The two young altar boys, one of whom she recognized as the boy from the orphanage, William, accompanied the priest as he mounted the low dais at the front of the church’s expectorant congregation.

As the hymn ended, Father Eaton began to speak with arms held aloft.

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

”Amen,” replied the congregation.

“The Lord be with you.”

“And with your spirit,” they all replied, finally taking their seats.

Angelica looked briefly to her far left, where Tomas was seated across the central passageway. He returned her gaze for a moment, then returned to look straight ahead towards the Holy altar.

“You are all very used to seeing me in my green vestments … during Ordinary Time,” began Father Eaton, “But today, at the beginning of the Feast of Suffering, I wear red. Why red you may ask? Well because, red recalls the fiery tongues that descended upon the Apostles; red for the feasts of the Holy Cross; and red for the martyrs’ bloody passions in sufferance and death.”

Angelica watched Eaton closely. She thought that red was the color of their fetal sacrifice. Eaton seemed so animated today. Filled with spirited angst and passion that burned about his being … a reddish fire had been lit within.

”Red is also because we are all at war. Yes, we are! We fight an enemy that is fierce. The Devil is a formidable foe. He has had thousands of years of experience in tempting and seducing us with his perverse wickedness. But as fierce as our enemy is, our God can be fiercer,” continued Father Eaton, his eyes seeming to be looking directly at Angelica, “In these troubled times of temptation and deception, God prepares us to stand up against the forces of darkness. His Word says to fight against sin … against evil. Chances are that you are in some form of spiritual woe today. And your means of fighting is knowing God’s Word … Peter said in 1 Peter chapter 5, verse 8 … “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour,” … and devour he will, unless we trust in our Lord’s true grace.”

Angelica pressed the sharp edge of the spine of her prayer book against her wet, throbbing cunt hole — her movements were almost undetectable as she masturbated her erect clitoris against the hard edge of the religious book. Her mind slipped back to the night before. Eaton had been terrified. She saw the fear in his eyes as he watch in horror as she stood over his prone body. She laughed in his stupid face, as she fucked herself with his mother’s precious antique crucifix. Her blasphemous behavior disguised as, what Sister Magnolia had described, as sexsomnia (a so-called rare condition, where the sufferer has no control over her sexual behavior, during her dream-like state).

Eaton seemed paralyzed in fear … yet his cock had become unexpectedly erect. He hated any form of sex that wasn’t for the explicit purpose of childbearing. He hated her whorish behavior with even greater passion … yet his body reacted affirmatively to her sexuality. They were opposites. Good and evil. Saint and demon. What would Sister Magnolia and Tomas make of this? Her dark heart was filled with evil thoughts … desires of corruption — how wonderful to bring him down — how glorious the feeling of knowing that it was her that could turn a servant of God into a depraved servant of Satan. Red was the color of her dreams. 


The church organ ground monotonously, as it played, “Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory,” in the background, as the elated parishioners slowly disbursed from the morning service.

Father Eaton stood with Sister Magnolia at the chapel doorway. From within, the outside sun shone so brightly. It was a glorious day.

His congregation all seemed so impassioned in his sermon delivery. Very topical. So unexpected. Some pumped the Father’s wrist, in gratitude at the doorway. Others said, “God bless you, Father.” Yet others simply nodded in acknowledgment of his spiritual guidance and stewardship. Sister Magnolia accompanied him, also offering her blessing to the members of his congregation, as they filed passed.

Finally, they were all gone.

“Sister Magnolia,” he said, as the last of his congregation left, “I wanted to thank you for your words of wisdom. And for your discretion in my family matters.”

Sister Magnolia said nothing in reply. But wondered where he was going with this.

“I have been praying for strength,” he continued, “And have come to an understanding of this sufferance. I mean about the situation with my wife’s rare condition of sexsomnia — A test — Yes, that’s what Angelica and I have been going through. God is testing us. He is testing the veracity of our faith. I realise it now. I feel His presence … and the devil is no match for the power of Christ Our Savior.”

Sister Magnolia stifled a smirk.

She thought Father Eaton was such a fucking arrogant fool. What “shit” he talked about. A test? His wife, Angelica, had told her everything that had transpired. How she had faked her so-called sleeping condition. How she had even had the gall to have used his mother’s crucifix to masturbate upon. It was a beautiful touch. How she had almost drowned him in her torrent of urine as she squirted — but most of all — how it gave her a huge kick to make him think that she was somehow devil-possessed, when in fact she simply wanted to get off on humiliating him sexually.

But there had been more to it.

Angelica had recalled in detail, to Sister Magnolia, that he’d actually become sexually aroused during his discourse — like a pathetic cuckold — and that she’d felt something, almost preternatural about what had transpired between them. Something evil had been present.

They both did the devil’s work.

The fall of her holier-than-thou husband was such a treat. The two conspiring women had both been very excited about it. Praising the Dark Lord for his gift. They saw themselves as true servants of the Devil … and maybe if they made an offering (they imagined) … the Devil would intervene further? Maybe it would mean taking the life of an unbaptized offering? Yes, red was the colour of human sacrifice. How delightful they’d both fantasied. Praise the Devil. They had both feverishly masturbated one another thinking about taking a life together in a ritual of dark, twisted evil.


Young William did exactly as Sister Magnolia had told him.

Long after the other church staff had all left, he remained behind in the dullness of the changing room of the refectory. Father Eaton would find him there. A lonely, lost orphan. A lost soul just waiting to be saved.

That was the plan.

The thirteen-year-old boy had become practiced at pleasuring his pedophile mistress and her perverted friends; and had become accustomed to satisfying all their deviant sexual needs. How Sister Magnolia loved young boy cock in all her holes. And what’s more, William had even gained a secret taste for it. He’d secretly fucked young Tabatha when the witch nuns were not around. She seemed to enjoy his sexual attention too. And for a nine-year-old, she knew how to suck his cock and make him cum in bucket-loads inside her tiny, tender mouth. Such sweet secrets. They had kept these naughty things to themselves.

”William? Why are you still here?” asked the naive priest, “Why didn’t you return to the orphanage with Sister Magnolia?”

William was still not completely dressed, seemingly half-in-and-half-out of his altar boy vestments. He stood alone, crying into his small childish hands.

“Sorry, Father. I hid from the nuns. I know it was wrong. But … I didn’t want to go back to the orphanage, not … not right away,” answered the boy, putting on his most pathetic and tearful expression.

“I don’t understand, William?”

“It’s not that they are cruel or mean, Father. The nuns are always kind to us. It’s just …”

“It’s just … what?”

”It’s peaceful here with you.” 

The priest was uncertain of what to do or what to say. But then, without warning, the boy fell against him. The boy’s vestment fell to the floor, leaving him exposed and completely naked. Father Eaton held the naked boy in his arms and felt the weightlessness of his lithe body as it collapse into his arms … pressing urgently against him. So delicate. So vulnerable. So needy. Such sweetness. William looked up at the conflicted priest, angelically. The boy’s lips parted slightly. His small boy cock was fully erect and excited.

“Father, kiss me,” said the boy with a tiny quivering voice.


Tomas felt his loins on fire … he tried to concentrate on the job at hand … focusing the video camera’s lens on the young boy and the priest. The night vision gave a perfect view of their misadventures. Tomas’ dark desires turned inside his guts as he watched Father Eaton unwittingly fall into their pedophilic trap. The animated Father Eaton hadn’t seen it coming. The camera didn’t lie. It zoomed in on a young altar boy alone and naked in the arms of a priest … the boy’s penis was clearly excited and fully erect … as he pressed his lips against that of the priest. No caption would be needed to describe this scene.


Father Easton had recoiled in sudden shock as he realized the abnormality of this behavior.

“William! … This is … this is not … not acceptable behavior! What … what do think you’re doing?”

“Sorry … oh, Father … sorry …” sobbed the boy faking rejection, “I thought you wanted me … I thought you …”

The priest picked up the boy’s abandoned vestments and held them up to the boy’s prone nakedness.

“Please … I think you’d better get dressed! The devil tempts us all with sin and lust!”

William remained uncovered and crying on the refectory floor.

“Look, um …” fumbled the priest as if fighting an unseen foe within himself.

The priest swallowed hard and shook his head.

Father Eaton hated himself for the way he felt. It was unnatural. Unbecoming of his station as a man of God. But the truth was that the devil’s temptations were just too great. The priest found his penis had hardened beneath his red vestments (the color of demonic passion) at the feeling of the young boy’s body as he’d pressed against him … at the taste of the boy’s sweet young lips … at the sight of the boy’s delicious young cock.

A hidden memory of an experience, long ago, in the early days of seminary school … a triggering of latent homosexual feelings … of various gay encounters … where the boys often masturbated together … even masturbated one another … sometimes even sucked one another … and only occasionally, very secretly sodomized one another. Such behavior was so unfitting for those in the serve of God … but the flesh was weak … so damn weak … as their young hormones raged … as the young novice Eaton had felt — and as Father Eaton felt at this very moment.

”Father … forgive me, for I have sinned …”

”You certainly have,” remarked the priest as he removed his vestments, “And you will sin more, now … with me!”


The camera purred.

It captured the secret scene perfectly. Man and boy. The priest and his altar boy. The boy was on all fours as the priest pressed his raging cock against the altar boy’s eager anus. The couple grunted vulgarly as the priest buggered his young acolyte. Yes, the scene made Tomas feel so fucking horny … watching Father Eaton sodomizing the orphan, pulling the boy upright in front of him, once his cock had fully penetrated his shit-hole. His adult hands closed around the boy’s excited genitals, masturbating him, as he pedo-fucked the boy at an increasing pace of urgency.

The microphone caught their gasps, their groans, their cries of ecstasy as both reached orgasm almost together. Man and boy. The priest and his altar boy … Tomas’ slippery fingers squeezed his cock-flesh tightly as he felt his orgasm erupt into his palm … as he steadied the camera for the final blissful moments.



“There is a sum of evil equal to the sum of good, the continuing equilibrium of the world requires that there be as many good people as wicked people …” ― Marquis de Sade

Tomas waited at the shop for Angelica.

He eagerly wanted to know what she intended to do with the video footage of her husband, Father Eaton, and the young orphan boy, William. He’d re-watched the torrid scene over and over as he furiously masturbated himself.

The day had dragged on with several uninteresting customers looking for this and that. His mind wasn’t really on the job. No. His mind was on shockingly sinful things. So much had happened recently, since the two of them had explored their darkest of fantasies. These dreams had become even more vivid. To the point where the line between reality and fantasy had become so blurred. Asleep or awake? Sometimes he wasn’t sure. He seemed to know something dark and preternatural was at work … but he fully welcomed it.

Now it was almost closing time. Almost time to meet Angelica. Time to do disgusting things to one another in his nasty little room. Piss sex. Buggery. Cum drinking. Shit play. But where was she?

“Excuse me,” said a short, dainty woman, dressed in a short black dress, with shockingly fake red hair, “I’m looking for Tomas … Mr. Tomas Stern.”

She mentioned his name as if she didn’t recognize him. But somehow, Tomas felt her eyes say she knew exactly who he was.

She wasn’t like any other customer that Tomas had ever entertained in his shop. Her appearance was nothing like the normal Christians that frequented The Zion Bookshop. Totally Goth. In fact, as the last but one customer left, the other customer looked scornfully at the redhead as if she was some kind of blood-sucking vampire.

“Well, I’m Tomas. How can I help you?”

”My name is Jules,” said Jules, her painted short-finger nails dangling a rather demonic-looking talisman that hung around her bleached-white neck, “And I have a gift for you. A gift for the video that will set her free … a gift from your most deviant lover … Angelica.”

Now, she had Tomas’ undivided attention. What is it? Why didn’t Angelica bring the gift herself?

“I don’t understand, Jules …” pretended Tomas, “… Where is Angelica?”

“She said to give you the gift … once we were both alone … in your secret place,” whispered the strange woman.

The secret place. Their secret place. The secret he’d shared only with Angelica. He looked closer at Jules. She had a mischievous grin that said much about her dark proclivities. Something was unnerving about her. Mysterious even. Could he trust her? Surely, if Angelica had told her about his secret place … she must be close to Angelica .. like Sister Magnolia.

“Well, Jules … let me close up shop. We wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt this?”

“No … we wouldn’t.”

Tomas cautiously led the strange little woman upstairs. Inside his secret place, it was overly hot and smelt rancid. Tomas watched the young woman’s eyes as she scanned the evil content that covered all the pornographic walls — she stared openly at his handiwork of pedophilic adulation. But as he watched, expecting the jaw-dropping of total disgust, Jules just smiled broadly.

“It’s so beautiful … Yes, fuck Christ. Fuck the Holy Spirit. It’s so fucking beautiful.”

Tomas hadn’t expected such a blasphemous response. It turned him on and he felt strangely joyous — being able to share his perverted tastes with one whose enthusiasm for the profane was so obvious. Jules looked at him and licked her black-painted lips.

“You mentioned a gift?” asked Tomas, emboldened by the woman’s reaction — expecting the gift of the demonic talisman that now hung openly against the woman’s flattish chest.

“Hmmmm … Yes. Your gift. I’m going to enjoy this. Angelica was very specific … she said that you must take off your clothes and kneel over the chamber pot!” demanded the dainty young woman — who appeared more than just aroused by Tomas’ secret place.

Tomas did as the strange woman told him. Naked in front of her, his small cock was hard as nails. What had Angelica cooked up here? Whatever it was, he sensed that it was going to be dirty and kinky. His cock began to bead with clear, slippery precum.

“That’s a good boy,” affirmed Jules.

Jules slipped out of her black dress — beneath which, she wore a black sheer cupless chemise with matching g-string panties. Her breasts were small, almost completely flat. She had pierced nipples and puffy areolas that looked almost black in sharp contrast to the pasty paleness of her skin.

“You like what you see?” she asked rhetorically as she kissed and licked the devil talisman.

Of course, he liked it. She had the body of a small twelve-year-old boy — but obviously, the mind of a devil-worshiping pervert.

She stuck her tongue out provocatively as if performing fellatio. Her fingers pinched and twisted her pierced nipples and trailed down her thin twenty-two-inch torso and over her pronounced bony hips.

“You like … to see more?” she asked teasingly.

Tomas had begun to masturbate as he watched her perform this little dance of lust. Her dark eyes sparkled with lust. Tomas let out a moan. Jules moved close to Tomas, as he knelt off the empty chamber pot. Her eyes encouraged his voyeurism and masturbation.

“Fuck, Christ! Fuck God!” she groaned.

The vixen had begun to rub the tiny triangle of fabric between her open legs, that now, seemed to bulge strangely forward … tenting from beneath with her hidden gift. As she rubbed the expanding bulge, it became bigger, much bigger — too big to hide any further — as her six-inch cock sprung out to Tomas’ squeal of delight. She was a he. Tomas beat his cock furiously at the sight of her delicious fat cock.

“Open wide, you thirsty fucker!” growled Jules as her narrow stream of golden urine sprayed over Tomas’ face and into his open mouth. “Fuck! The devil’s wine … drink it … drink it all … fuck yer! Cum while you drink the devil’s wine from its source!”

Tomas was soaked in tranny piss, as he jerked himself to spasms; instantaneously ejaculating in ribbons of spicy cum all over himself.

“Fuck!” he cried, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” groaning around a mouthful of cock — as he sucked desperately at Jules’ pissing snake — as she continued to piss-fuck his contorted face.


The phone rang. It was Angelica.

“Sorry, Tomas. I couldn’t make it to your place last night,” apologized Angelica, “I was busy editing your delicious footage.”

Tomas knew she was talking about the video footage that he’d had taken only a day earlier. The footage showed her husband raping a young, innocent boy in the refectory changing rooms. Abusing his privileges as a priest and mentor. Not only a sinful and unforgivable act of child abuse … but also one that, if sent to the church authorities, would have him stripped of his position, as they usually dealt with these kinds of matters, internally.

“Well … I was going to call you about your gift,” Tomas started.

“Well … what about it? I bet you didn’t sleep much last night?”

Actually, Tomas hadn’t slept at all. He was already in love with Jules. She suggested their night had been spent in the worship of abject depravity.

Jules and Tomas had fucked and sucked most of the night. Resting briefly, before finding each other’s cock in their mouths and anuses. Tomas had never drunk so much hot, salty piss. He’d eagerly sucked his own ass juices from Jules’ dirty little transvestite fuck pole as their piss and shit orgy escalated from one perversion to the next in their worship of Satan. Like Tomas and Angelica, Jules had a proclivity for young altar boys.

“She suggested that we all get together … you, me, and that altar boy, William … would you like that?” asked Angelica — though she already knew the answer.


Father Eaton arrived at Saint Bernadette’s Orphanage.

It was late in the afternoon. Sister Magnolia had met the priest after he had brought the young orphan boy back to the Sisterhood. His sheepishness had not gone unnoticed by Sister Magnolia. Of course, the nun said nothing, other than the pleasantries afforded to the priest for his supposed good deed. She had received the boy back into their fold with a false scowl and a quick tap to the backside. William remained silent and disappeared into the throng of delicious young orphans — As was, the plan.

“Father Eaton,” said the nun, “We appreciate your concerns for young Master William. He’ll benefit from your close, personal guidance. If you do not mind, I will arrange for him to stay back at the refectory after church services every week — one-on-one — so that he may get the benefit of your learned teachings.”

Father Eaton, was relieved to think that they thought nothing negative about the boy’s delayed return. Knowing that he’d spend the entire time, molesting the young boy and subjecting him to his pedophilic delights, made his deception feel even more incredulous. But there it was. The boy had been more than willing — it seemed — his silence said that the boy was a co-conspirator in this unnatural and unholy union. And the Sister had even invited him to perpetuate his perverted behavior. Over and over. Every week. It was tempting. So tempting.

“Well, if you think William will benefit — of course, he can stay back for further one-on-one … teaching …”

The words hadn’t even left his mouth before his cock stirred thinking about fucking the young boy again and again and again — using him to satisfy these unclean urges — the devil’s temptations. Knowingly committing the abuse, had only intensified Father Eaton’s homosexual pleasure. His soul would burn in hell for this. The devil was winning. But Eaton just couldn’t resist.

“Well Father, it’s getting later, there’s much to do here,” said the nun dismissively, “I will come by the chapel tomorrow. Good day, Father.”

Normality. It felt strange. Criminality. But his relief remained. His dirty, little secret was intact.


The Zion was closed the next day. All day. A few customers popped by but saw the sign on the door. Closed. Maybe the proprietor was unwell or taking an unplanned trip? It wasn’t unheard of. They all knew that Tomas managed the shop on his own.

But the truth was that Tomas was there all the time. In his secret place. After Jules had departed in the late morning, he had called Angelica. They’d had a brief discussion and then he’d finally fallen asleep. His mind filled with the bizarre gift that Angelica had shared and her promise of more to come. He was already looking forward to it. Such depravity was so alluring. And as dreams took him he fell deep. Deeper. Maybe deeper than he’d been before.

The elevator awaited. He knew the drill. Dream or fantasy or nightmare? It all blended together. Pieces of masking tape with handwritten words. They were his handwriting? … Rape Dance. Witch’s Garden. Serpent of Sin. Cambion’s Circus. Cruise Noir.

Tomas loved them all. His fingers hovered and danced over such deviant fruit. Maybe the last one? Yes, there was something about Cruise Noir that sparked his interest. He pressed the button and the elevator began to shudder and moved … the door opened to reveal a crowded waiting area.

Families and kids with luggage. It was dizzy, noisy, and frustrating. Something like an airport? Everyone was dressed in shorts and t-shirts and kids were in bathers. But among the confusion and pandemonium stood a single well-dressed woman looking directly at him. She wasn’t very tall and appeared thin and gaunt.

“Mr. Tomas,” she said, her hand extended outwards, “Your VIP ticket, Sir?”

That was when Tomas realized he was actually holding a stub of paper, that resembled a VIP ticket. She took it from him and examined it briefly and then smiled.

“This way, Mr. Tomas,” she said, guiding him towards a small side entry, “The other VIP guests have all arrived.”

VIP guests? This wasn’t his first, “Dream,” rodeo. Whatever it was, it was bound to be profoundly perverted. His cock twitched at that thought as looked around hungrily at all those naughty children that cried out to buggered and abused.


The lounge lay beyond the ignoble entry. A small inconspicuous doorway. It would have been missed or dismissed by most. The lounge was literally another world. The round windows and curved walls told Tomas that he was onboard a ship. A cruise ship. The name, “Cruise Noir,” now made sense. The ship was moving, he could feel it, though its stabilisers made it very steady — almost undetectable.

“Welcome, Mr. Tomas,” said a scantily dressed cocktail waitress that looked no older than thirteen, “A drink, Sir?”

She handed him a “Welcome drink,” with a straw, a little umbrella, and salty frosting. Tomas glanced up and down at her. Her cocktail dress clearly display the flatness of her chest; she wore no bra; and her uniform hung off of her narrow hips — she was a little girl dressed up in make-up and high heel shoes. Tomas licked his lips.

The other VIP guests seemed to mill about socially. There was the sound of vulgar laughter. Tomas sipped on his cocktail and scanned the faces of those around him. Each had that hunger in their eyes that Tomas knew all too well. He thought he saw Angeline or someone very similar in look and stature. And for a moment he thought he caught sight of Jules. The elite crowd looked up, as a woman in a long black dress with a split up the side (right to the armpit) took the small stage and stepped up to the microphone.

“Welcome honored VIP guests. Once again, we welcome you all to Cruise Noir,” said the woman that looked exactly like Sister Magnolia (minus the nun outfit), “We have left the port and will be into international waters very soon. As you may be aware, the rules are different on the high seas, and as our other less fortunate guests will find out — we will be culling the herd. Yes, right now in the sub-levels of Cruise Noir, our staff are preparing your favorite entrees, deserts and main courses for this brief but delightful night cruise … I am referring of course to the sexual menu … of young boys and girls that will be on offer at our buffet … so much young flesh to abuse, rape, torture, and defile … of course their parents will be otherwise engaged in our many casinos, cinemas, KTV lounges, spas, and adult entertainment places … while we empty the crèches, the nurseries, and the children activity areas — all under our close surveillance.”

The crowd hummed with excitement. They obviously all anticipated this, unlike Tomas — who was new to Cruise Noir.


Tomas joined the throng of VIPs as they descended to the sub-level floors. They shuffled forward in single file along the long corridor that seemed to run the spine of the lower levels. There was a long row of identical doors leading left and right. Nothing to tell them apart except a number on the cabin door. His was number thirteen. The cabin attendant opened the door and Tomas stepped inside.

“The VIP menu is on the television, Sir,” the young attendant said, “Just press “N” for access.”

Inside, it was much bigger than he’d imagined. An enormous bed covered with black silk sheets. The ceilings were mirrored. No windows. They must be below the waterline. The walls were painted black; the carpet was black; the fixture was all black; and the lights were dim. There was a large monitor television. Tomas toyed with the control and was immediately rewarded with a vivid and explicit scene for some kind of child porn video. His cock hardened immediately at the sight of young flesh being abused by a dark-skinned shemale. Her thick black cock was buried in the anus of a crying young boy. Tomas lowered the volume so that the crying wails of the boy and grunting sounds of the depraved black transexual became less intrusive.

Tomas press the big “N” on the control — the VIP menu appeared with images of naked boys and girls of various races and ages — nothing was left to the imagination. Tomas stroked his cock through his pants, imagining the treats he was about to enjoy.

He made a selection and then there was a discrete knock on the cabin door. Tomas tucked his cock down in his pants — not wanting to be seen in such an excited state. He unlocked the door and opened it. A woman dressed like a dominatrix in a black latex mask that covered her face, hair, and neck stood before him. It was Angeline. It must be her, he thought. Well, it looked like her body shape and size.

In tow behind the woman was a naked young boy, about ten years old, with soft blonde hair. He was just like the picture on the menu. Demure and frightened. He looked upheaved and upset.

“Mr. Tomas,” said the Angeline look-a-like, “Your order, Sir.”

“Won’t you come in?” asked Tomas.

“If that is your wish?”

“Yes … it is,” affirmed Tomas, “Your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”



“The imagination is the spur of delights … all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise? …” ― Marquis de Sade

Tomas noticed Father Eaton enter the bookstore. It wasn’t uncommon for clergy to visit, as The Zion carried many special texts for seminary learning and religious development. Tomas watched the awkward priest shuffle around uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Hello, Tomas,” said Father Eaton, “I recognize you from church.”

“Yes, Father Eaton,” answered Tomas, wondering where this was going, “Can I help you with anything?”

“Well, actually you can. A discrete matter.”

“We’re like a confessional here Father. What happens at The Zion, stays at The Zion.”

Father Eaton laughed uncomfortably.

“You see, I have a parishioner who confessed to being desirous of committing a grave sin … and I need to research advice on what to do ..”

“I see,” said Tomas, “And this sin?”

“Ehhh … Well … it was a sexual sin … between men and young boys.”

“Ahhhh .., the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah?”

“Well, I seek to save a soul … not cast him into fire and brimstone,” answered the priest, practically squirming in his discomfort with the whole subject.

Tomas pretended to be academic about it.

“I have several publications that cover the topic of pastoral care for Catholics experiencing same-sex desires, Father. However, not many cover the subject of pedophilia from memory. May I be as bold as to suggest another approach?”

The priest looked dubious.

“Sometimes to give advice, we must seek to understand,” said Tomas, “Sexual perversion is the work of the devil … but how can one know the light, without understanding the dark? Have you ever read, The Marquis de Sade’s “120 Days of Sodom” … it may be enlightening for your conversation with your suffering parishioner. It is an unfinished work … but it is said to be the most impure tale ever written.”

“Darkness? … to see the light?” asked the priest, “But surely you wouldn’t keep such a book here?”

”As I said Father … like a confessional here …” answered Tomas.

“Well, then … I appreciate your discretion.”


Father Eaton returned to the refectory. He first made sure that he was alone. Completely alone.

He weighted the words of Tomas in his mind. “Sexual perversion is the work of the devil … but how can one know the light, without understanding the dark?” They made perfect sense. He needed to understand the dark. Was this his true motive, he asked himself?

His heart beat fast with the thoughts of his sexual activities with young William. How profoundly unclean they made him feel. But still, how enchanting this the temptations of the devil … He retrieved the copy of “120 Days of Sodom,” from its brown paper bag. He held it in reverence. Such a perverted thing. His cock was practically leaking beneath his black gown.

The priest removed his clothing and sat in one of the large leather chairs, that he often used for conversations of confession … ironically, it felt as if he was confessing, but not to the Abrahamic god … But to the adversary.

He thought about all that he’d experienced. His wife’s sexsomnia, her blasphemous masturbation with the crucifix, acting like a succubus whore, forcing him to perform cunnilingus on her, and then, her remembering nothing the next morning … so bizarre … though he hated vaginas, he remembered his reaction … that she’d excited him with her perverted behavior. Yes, maybe secretly, he hoped it was more than just a psychological problem … maybe he welcomed the devil into their marital bed?

He opened the pages of the forbidden book. Ravenous to devour every sordid word. The sometimes-confusing narrative, with stories with stories, did not seem to bother, Father Easton. No, he reveled in each disgusting and torturous act. The more evil and twisted it got — the more he felt to urge to spurt his hot, salty cum across its pages — and with each tale of perversity seemed to have its own impact upon him, as he furiously masturbated himself.

His sin of anal penetration of the young boy seemed to pale insignificant in comparison to the pain and suffering of the evil acts contained within the pages of the “120 days”. The obscenity and corruptive words of the Marquis de Sade quickly brought the wayward priest to one heart-pounding orgasm after another.

Oh, such perversity. Vulgarity. Cruelty … now he understood. But now, he seemed to want more.


Tomas was glad to see Angelica finally arrive. They closed the shop and immediately went upstairs to his secret sexual lair. Perverted excitement ran through his veins, as his cock became hard and needy of attention. Once inside, he locked the door. The aroma of the room inspired their filthy minds to undress quickly. Their twisted souls looked upon each other as demonic playmates. Yes, let it begin, thought Tomas.

”Your husband was here,” said Tomas, very casually.

”And why wouldn’t a priest be in a bookshop that specializes in religious publications?” asked his wife, Angelica.

”Father Eaton was rather sheepish, my dear. What surprised me was that your husband sought candid advice. He desperately needed help with a wayward parishioner, who was experiencing a momentary lack of faith. I believe the said parishioner desired to do something untoward … with a young innocent boy. Buggery, I believe may have been involved.”

“Buggery, did you say? Oh, my dear, husband. He must be having such an upward struggle. Falling so low, from being so upright and proper. Now he’s truly descended into the den of iniquity — Oh, incest, sodomy, coprophilia, and bestiality. There will be no way back from this. He was always trying to help other lost souls. And now he’s completely lost himself.”

They kissed. Their tongues plunged into each others’ mouths as the rubbed their excited genitals against each other. The smell of their arousal filled their senses. It was the stench of perverted sex.

“So, what manner of advice did you afford him?”

Angelica had knelt before her lover. She took his small, stiff cock into her warm mouth, and began sucking it, while she playfully toyed his testicles and anus.

“Ahhghhhhghhghh …” Tomas moaned unabated.

He loved it when she touched his unclean anus. She stabbed a finger inside his brown flower, making him squirm with perverted delight.

“I gave him a copy of ‘120 days’ my dearest.”

”Well, that will spice things up. Maybe there is hope for our marriage of sufferance. Maybe, I will entertain his new proclivities? Christ be fucked. What do you think?”

”Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Of course,” laughed Angelica, “That way, you’ll have to kill him, and set us both free.”

“You are an evil bitch. That’s why I love you.”


Father Eaton eagerly awaited for the last of the parishioners to leave after the midweek service. His eyes betrayed his lust for young William, dressed in his altar-boy gown awaited him, for what, Sister Magnolia, of Saint Bernadette’s Orphanage, had suggested was some one-on-one tutorage. Father Eaton was new to this. He’d always been a somewhat ordinary priest, with little or no sex drive.

His wife, Angelica, had always seemed to understand his lack of attentiveness, which up to now, he’d thought was solely due to his sense of religious duty and devotion to the Abrahamic god — but now that was all very questionable — could it have been, that this boy, had ignited a fire of lust, that had been hidden since Eaton’s experiences in the seminary? Dare he think of himself as being homosexual? A cock lover. Was he an unholy sodomite?

As he locked the church doors, he pondered Luke, chapter one, verse seven — “Just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire.” Red was the color of eternal fire. He’d played with the devil. These unnatural desires were so delicious. Was the boy a gift from the Devil, or a test from God? If it was a test, he’d failed spectacularly. Maybe, he could still redeem the situation — make it something of an anomaly, maybe? If he never repeated this perverted act, maybe God would forgive him.

“Father,” it was the soft voice of young William.

The priest turned and looked at the angelic boy in his pristine white gown.

”Yes, William, what is it?” answered the priest.

His cock had been hard and leaking precum throughout the entire service. He was almost delirious from lack of self-control. Thoughts of the passages he read in The 120 Days of Sodom, “Nothing quite encourages as does one’s first unpunished crime,” … Yes, it was true that he’d got away with it the first time. Then, what of God and eternal punishment? … “There is no need for me to restrain my tastes in order to please Him, it is from nature that I received these tastes, and I should offend her (Mother Nature) by resisting them.”

“Sister Magnolia said that I was to stay the night with you. That you’d be taking care of me, Father. She said that I was to be on my best behavior … and to do everything and anything you asked me to do. I feel so horny, Father. I cannot help but touch myself. Even during the service. I got such a hard-on thinking about you fucking me …”

William raised the fringe of his gown underneath which he had no underclothes. The priest could see the boy’s thin thighs, hairless groin, and erect penis.

“Am I an angel … or am I evil?”

“You’re a fucking, perverted, little demon, and I want to taste that dirty, little anus of yours, right now!”

William let out a little squeal of joy. He liked this game of fucking the dirty old priest. Sister Magnolia would expect him to tell her everything that transpired in minute detail. She’d said that his wife would drop by and that she wanted him to be caught doing the “dirty bum thing” with him.


Angelica, Tomas, Sister Magnolia, Jules, and the young orphan, Tabatha, all gathered at the refectory.

As planned, they gained entry, using the spare key that Angelica knew was there. It was to be a special occasion. It would be a ritual of sorts. Be it an initiation or a sacrifice. The Devil must be appeased. They were all dressed in their black gowns and nothing else. They all wore demonic horned masks that covered the upper two-thirds of their faces. It would be a parody of the Christian mass.

As they arrived, the sounds of perverted sex welcomed them. For those nights when Father Eaton did late-night masses, there was a bed in the refectory — there, Angelica found her naked husband and the young orphan boy, William.

They quietly observed, as the priest slavishly gobbled the boy’s sex organs. He sucked the boy’s testicles, lavishly licked his dirty anus, whilst he played with the preteen’s erect cocklet. The smell of raunchy sex filled the air.

“Oh, Father, oh, Father … I’m … I’m going to cum!” cried the young boy.

It was to be a joyous moment for all.

“Nothing that makes one hard is wicked and the only crime in the world is to refuse oneself that pleasure!” quoted Tomas from the Marquis de Sade novel.

The priest turned at the sound of Tomas’ voice.


Father Eaton’s expression displayed the priest’s complete and utter surprise. His discomfort of being caught red-handed was on display. He immediately let go of his boy-lover and tried in vain to cover himself. His cock immediately went limp with fear. The priest’s fall and humiliation were obvious. Like a rabbit in the headlights.

Eaton began to weep pathetically as the five strangers in black gowns and masks surrounded him. What could he do now?

“Who … who … who are you?” he managed to stutter.

“Certain to repent of the pleasures they taste, they take their delight in quaking, in such sort they become at once virtuous in crime and criminal in virtue …” quoted Angelica.

“It was the boy. He’s not a boy, he’s a demon … he seduced me … he … he …” stumbled the pathetic priest, as if he was somehow able to talk his way out of this situation. 




If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email xpanther2019@protonmail.com