THE ABBEY OF DISILLUSION 5 by Yankee Dan

Feature Writer: YANKEE DAN

Feature Title: THE ABBEY OF DISILLUSION 5

Published: 27.02.2023

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A Lovecraftian saga of lesbian domination.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always appreciated, whether positive or negative. I value it greatly. If folks don’t like tentacle sex, this is your chance to talk me out of part 2 being a tentacle rape fest. Lesbian BDSM will be the central focus, though I’m open to suggestions of other kinks. I envision this as the beginning of what will be my longest story series.

The Abbey of Disillusion 5

“Do not make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land, for when they prostitute themselves to their gods and sacrifice to them, they will invite you, and you will eat their sacrifices.” — Exodus 34:15

June 1, 1933

The last few days have been remarkable in their routine. Nothing has been said or acknowledged by the Mother Superior or any other Sister. I told Margaret most of what happened, leaving out the assault on my body carried out by a strange creature which Dumonte and I encountered in the stairwell. Instead, I claimed to have simply been chased by the creature after freeing Dumonte, losing it, and him, in the catacombs. I want dearly to go back into the basement to see if I can find John, yet I fear they may be watching it more closely now, besides which, I am unlikely to be able to help him further.

Worse, I fear that if I did descend into that pit, I may find his body, proof that I only managed to succeed in getting him killed. I pray that he escaped, and if not, that the Lord accepts Mr. Dumonte into his kingdom.

Meanwhile, I have been free, in the absence of accusations, to concoct possible scenarios in my mind. I reasoned by the evening of the thirtieth that surely the Mother Superior had discovered Dumonte’s escape or death, and the fact that I was not confronted with it must mean they did not suspect me. At least not very strongly. It may be the case that the abbess has other women in the abbey whom she does not trust, or it may be that she believes Dumonte capable of escape without aid. If I am not a suspect, then it is no surprise they shouldn’t mention it to me, as I am lowly in both the open life of the abbey and its secret one.

This morning, Sister West came by my room, and her behavior further leads me to believe that I am not suspected of acting against their sect. She was talking to me as a concubine, a willing and enthusiastic concubine, as she says, and explaining to me ways in which I might better please the Mother Superior, who has requested my presence again tomorrow night.

“Never kiss her above the neck unless she instigates it,” she told me, “Never put anything in her pussy that was just in her ass, actually, that rule is for everyone. If she is pleasuring you, it’s to teach you how to pleasure her. She fingered you yet? That’s how you do her. Do you need me to demonstrate?”

I shook my head, declining her offer. She looked at me with a smirk.

“You know I will need to try you out for myself one of these days, Lily is about ready, so it shouldn’t be long until my cunt is free for you.”

I looked at her, concerned that I was going to have another mistress.

“But I belong to the Mother Superior,” I protested.

“Yes,” she said, smiling, “But I’m a Matriarch and I train the girls she touches. If I want you to lick my ass, you’re going to.”

She made this statement casually, as if I should be pleased or at least indifferent to it.

“You know …” she said, tilting her head, “I would like to see your breasts, why don’t you take off your clothes?”

I looked at her for a long moment, and I sensed she was about to become impatient. Reaching up, I began to undress.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, stopping me, “On second thought, I’ll save the surprise. Let’s have a go next week, why don’t we? Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, fingering her …”

When she’d tired of giving instructions, she stepped up to me, putting her lips to my ear.

“I can’t wait for you to have that cute little mouth on my asshole,” she whispered.

In the evening, after my work, Margaret came by. It was the perfect night for her to do so, as I had fully recovered from my ordeal, at least physically, and she and I had shared no affection for days. I itched to lie with her.

“We need some changes in this relationship,” she said almost immediately.

I gulped as she said this, for in my heart I feared I’d displeased her.

“Just tell me, Margaret, I’ll do it!”

To my shock, she slapped me, hard across the face. I stumbled and fell to the floor against my bed, looking up at her in disbelief.

“It’s Sister Margaret. How hard is that for you, hmm? You stupid lesbian dyke.”

I realized then that she had entered my room already extremely horny. Margaret told me that she wanted to hurt me. This was arousing, and I started to feel a tingle between my legs.

Oh yes, please hurt me! I thought.

“You look nice down there. From now on, when I come in, you’ll kneel immediately before greeting me.”

“Yes, Margaret,” I said.

“You little bitch,” she muttered, hearing my intentional lack of honorific, “Get up and lean over the bed.”

I complied and, turning, spread my arms over my bed. She knelt behind me, her hands going to my ass. She lifted my gown and threw it over my back, gaining the access she needed to fondle my derrière.

“God, your butt is soft,” she whispered as she stroked my cheeks.

“Play with me however you want,” I told her, hoping that would excite her.

“God, you mean that, don’t you? You are such a fucking whore.”

“I want to be a whore just for you,” I told her.

She slid her hand between my legs, feeling my mound through my panties.

“Gorgeous,” she whispered.

I expected the blow, but was surprised by the sting of it. I yelped loudly as Margaret rubbed her palm across the spot where she’d slapped my ass. She ran her hand slowly down my thigh, fingernails lightly scraping my skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. I sighed as I felt her hand come back up, and sort of unconsciously shifted my ass to push my panty-covered pussy towards it.

“Ah! Sister!” I cried out as she hit me again.

“Behave, you harlot,” she scolded me, resuming her attention to my thighs, pinching the skin now and then, squeezing my ass cheeks.

My pussy was starting to get wet, and I knew from how close Margaret sat behind me that she’d smell the evidence. She slapped me again, on my left ass cheek, and I cried out.

“Ouch! I am being good, Sister Margaret!”

“Are you?” she teased me, “Is letting another nun caress your sex ‘being good?'”

I thought for a moment.

”I’ll be good to you, Sister Margaret. I’ll make you feel good.”

She slapped my ass again, and I winced. Her blows were really hard.

“Please don’t hit me so hard,” I begged, which prompted her to slap my ass again, three times in quick succession.

“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” she said, “Besides, I want to see how red I can turn this beautiful ass of yours.”

She laid into me then, unrelenting.

SLAP, SLAP, SLAP.

I sobbed openly after a few moments.

”Margaret, pleeease,” I begged unashamedly.

“Sister, God damn it, Sister!” she yelled, redoubling her efforts, but also adjusting them so that a large part of her hand hit my panty-covered cunt each time.

I huffed and squealed when she did this, for the pain was also extremely arousing, and I know she felt the wetness on her hand as she beat me. She hammered me like a woman possessed, intense and unrelenting as the devils of hell tormenting the damned.

“Fuck, Sister Margaret, fuck! I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” I blathered.

In a moment, she stopped, her hand resting on my crotch. She gently began to touch me through the fabric, and I let out a trembling breath, shuddering at the feel of her fingertips probing my vulva, parting the soft folds and pushing the panties into my sex.

“Ohhhh fuck Sister, that feels … it feels …”

“Relax, my little whore. Relax and I’ll give you a treat.”

Margaret’s hands took hold of my panties and pulled them down.

“Oh yes, please, Sister, I want it, treat your little whore, please …”

I arched my back, presenting my raw sex to her. Margaret leaned in, inhaling my scent.

“Ummm,” she moaned, “I love how you smell.”

I was delighted then to feel her tongue touch the inside of my thigh and work its way up.

“Ahh, thank you, Sister, thank you …” I whispered, encouraging her, slowly shaking my ass in the sexiest manner that I could.

Margaret’s face followed my sex, kissing all around, but not quite on it. She licked the globes of my ass, inside right next to my asshole, and she sucked on my inner thigh where it met my crotch. Her fingers played gently over the surface of my sex, only teasing.

“Oh, Sister, please, please treat me,” I begged for further stimulus, trying to push my cunt towards her roaming tongue.

Margaret squeezed my ass cheeks hard, the pink skin burning as she did, and sucked on the soft skin just to the left of my cunt. I wept into the covers.

“Pah-pa, pleeeeassee Gahhh-God.”

She bit my flesh roughly, and I jerked my ass but was held down by her grip.

“Can’t you control yourself, you dirty bitch?” she hissed at me.

“Noooo,” I moaned, shaking as she reached under my dress, her hands going under my bra.

“Ahh, yes, pinch me,” I said as her fingertips found my nipples.

I felt her breath on my sex, her lips almost touching me.

“What did you want?” she asked, exhaling a lungful of air onto my sex.

“Lick my pussy, mistress,” I supplied ‘mistress’ as I had a few times before, hoping she’d like it.

Her lips kissed me, Frenching my sex. Ah, yes, she liked being called mistress. I made a note to keep doing it.

“Oh, mistress, thank you, I’m your pet, ah, yes, treat me, I’ll be so good, so fucking good for you.”

She paused her licking for a moment.

”What will you do for me?” She asked.

“Umm, I’ll suck your toes, I’ll lick between every one, uhuugghh, I’ll massage your legs, ah, oh!”

I squeaked as she pinched my nipples roughly.

”I-I’ll lick your armpits, would you like that?”

She giggled at this.

“Hmm, my armpits … I don’t know, I never considered … I believe I’ll let you try.”

“Oh yeah, it feels good, having them licked.”

I didn’t mention why I knew this. Some men had performed the act on me in Arkham, and it had surprised me with how enjoyable it had been.

“You’ll eat my pussy, of course,” Margaret said.

“And your ass, God, your sweaty asshole, I want to clean it with my tongue,” I continued.

“And do you want me to lick your little hole?” she asked me.

“Oh God, would you?” I asked her, almost certain she wouldn’t.

A few moments of quietly slurping passed, and I groaned into the sheets, hands clinching and unclenching, when Margaret’s tongue traveled with painfully deliberate strokes centimeter by centimeter up my sex to my perineum, tickling me a bit before circling the outside of my dark patch. I held my breath in anticipation and wasn’t disappointed.

“Hmmm, mistress … yes. Lick me there … so dirty … oh God, stick your tongue inside me. I can’t believe it …”

Margaret abandoned teasing once her tongue touched my asshole and she plunged it inside me. God, she had a strong tongue, so slippery and warm, parting my hole and diving in. Margaret may be the dominant one, but her sick desire to service the female body is just as strong as mine. The way she licked me for the next few minutes left no doubt that she belonged between a woman’s legs as much as I did, making me cum with her fingers buried in my cunt while she ate my ass lovingly.

When she was done, she removed her clothes and lay back on the bed, spreading her legs. No words were needed. I’d been treated, and now I needed to please my mistress. I performed the service gladly, rubbing her cunt all over my face after I’d removed her panties. Licking frantically, my eyes locked on hers the whole time.

She didn’t get up afterwards, we lay together, feeling each other’s bodies. I softly explored her breast, and she laughed as I licked her armpit. Apparently, the feeling of my tongue there prompts only tickles. She is lying in the bed next to me right now, and she says I have to finish this entry, I need to clean her feet and asshole before she goes to sleep, and her ass needs a very in-depth cleaning.

June 2, 1933

Today I awoke knowing that I would have to service the Mother Superior. I felt guilty for the sense of excitement that accompanied this, like I was betraying Margaret. However, I cannot deny that part of my mind spent half the day imagining what perverse act the Mother Superior would demand of me, of how she’d debase and claim my body. I suggested running away to Margaret, but she was having none of it. In her view, she has nearly everything she could want here; the only hiccup to her is having to share me with the abbess.

I was unsurprised that Sister West stopped by early in the morning. She did not comment on Sister Margaret leaving my room just before she entered. It seems she was good to her word; what I did in my room didn’t concern her. She provided me with a new gown, one so simple and skimpy it was likely meant as a nightgown, being little more than two strips of cloth attached around the shoulders and hips. It was quite pretty, of course, the Mother Superior has excellent taste.

The weather turned sour today, and chased me inside, although of course that is good for my fields. Something drew me to the Mother Superior’s office, not to sneak in, but just to see her. I knocked politely and waited. She gave permission, and I entered.

“Oh, Caroline,” she said, sounding surprised, and then smiled, “What brings you?”

“I can’t do my normal work,” I said.

“And idle hands do the devil’s work,” she said, chuckling to herself.

“I believe I’ll get to that this evening, Mother Superior.”

“No,” she said, “What you do for me at night, that’s blessed by the Goddess, I assure you.”

“May I come in?” I asked, to which she nodded.

I sat on the small bed she’d placed in the room and looked around. The table that we’d dined at was gone, replaced by a large chest, which was open. Inside were many books, all appeared ancient. The Mother Superior had several volumes on her desk, which she’d apparently been studying.

“What work are you about, Mother Superior?”

She stood, stepping up to me and putting a finger to my lips.

”Just Mother when we’re alone … or Mommy if you prefer. You and Margaret both have called me that a few times, and I didn’t mind it.”

“Of course, Mother,” I said.

“My work today is to study these volumes, to determine which are written by men with insight into the nature of the world, and which are the work of charlatans.”

I paused for a moment, thinking, ”Who is the Goddess, Mother?” I asked, surprisingly myself. I must have acquired some madness from the pit, for I felt a bold desire to probe more strongly for answers.

She ran her hand across my cheek.

”For me to talk to you about the Goddess, you have to take your first vows.”

“Forgive me, Mother … have you not cast aside your vows?”

I shrank even as I spoke the question, afraid of the punishment she might mete out for it.

But she just shook her head.

“Oh no, I uphold them. As God gave man several covenants throughout the years, we have entered a new covenant, we are closer to the Lord and the Goddess than any nuns who ever worshipped the Lord before.”

I shook my head.

“Mother, I’ve seen your magic trick, but I find it hard to believe you. We fornicate with each other and you praise a Goddess; what are you but a corrupt witch?”

The look she gave me was not angry, as I’d expected, just serious, contemplative. We stared at one another for a long moment before she began to remove her clothes.

Is this it? I wondered. Her response will be to make me lick her?

Her habit and veil fell away, and she stood naked, her long hair flowing down her back. I beheld the now familiar, but still so beautiful, curves of her body, and then it began. The lights in the room seemed to flicker and dim, the rain outside began to beat in waves against the wall, and I saw it.

“I am pure of heart,” she said.

I tried to turn my head, but my eyes were glued to her. I opened and closed my mouth, making no sound like a dumb fish out of water. I believe I saw her soul in that moment, beautiful and terrifying, pure, as she said, voluptuous, powerful, erotic and wild.

“Where is the corruption?” she asked me, “Where is the guilt, the doubt, the shame? I am as God made me! Everything the daemon-sultan dreamed is in me! I’ve stood at the foot of his throne! I embrace the wild seed of the black goat as a mate! You don’t even know their names.”

“Shub-Niggurath …” I whispered, “The pure of heart shall see God …”

She tilted her head, and in the next moment the vision passed, yet was still there, an echo of the glory that was Mother Superior lingered over her like a pattern that once recognized couldn’t be unseen, and she was all the sexier for it. She was more desirable, more commanding, more awe-inspiring. I slipped from the bed to kneel at her feet, overwhelmed in that moment.

“You’ve been in my books,” she charged.

“You-you said I could read them,” I told her, a partial truth.

“Yes, I did,” she agreed and licked her lips, “You look so sweet right now I could eat you up.”

I reached out for her left foot, which she raised, offering it to me. I kissed the top and pressed my face to it.

“Anything you want, mommy.”

She pulled her foot from my shaking hands and reached into the chest, pulling out a smaller book.

“I want you to start with this one. Take notes and summarize it for me. You’ll find it’s in old English.”

I took it from her gingerly.

”Yes, Mother Superior.”

I lay on her bed reading for the next six hours, the language of the book I’d been handed. “The Enchanted Forest” by one Juliana of Norwich detailed a place which she referred to as “The Land of Dreams.” For a moment, I thought the work might be about the forest I’d entered through the gates, but she seemed to be saying the place only existed in dreams, yet was a ‘real’ place one could go to. The Mother Superior did not put her clothes back on, sitting there, apparently comfortable in the nude.

It was Lily who brought us dinner. She stared at me for a large part of the time she was in the room, and I am unsure if it was a resentful glare or just her attempt to connect with someone she believes is in a similar situation.

As I have said, the small table was no longer in the room, so the Mother Superior took her food to her desk. Lily looked about, wondering where to place my food. The abbess looked at me and said,

“You’ll eat at my feet.”

Lily complied, placing the tray beside the desk.

Without complaint, I knelt at Mother Superior’s feet and we ate, she asked me about the book, and I told her it was rubbish, flights of fancy about dream worlds from a cloistered fourteenth-century mystic. She laughed at my description, and as we ate, she used her feet to play with me, taking advantage of my scant garments and rubbing my breast with her toes. “Where’s your bra?” She asked me. I felt embarrassed by that question, as I had simply assumed she didn’t want me wearing one.

“Hmm, filthy slut,” she savored the word, and I relaxed, for I knew she liked it.

She surprised me as she finished her food, pulling a bottle of wine from her desk drawer and saying,

“Perhaps soon you can take your first vows.”

I almost choked on my food.

”Mother, I-I’m not even really a novitiate,” I spoke as if confessing.

“Oh yes, Apostate Lapham, you know I almost forgot. I’m already so used to having you around. Well, I declare you a novitiate. How long do you think your term should be? A day?”

She put on an obviously false air of seriousness.

“Sister Margaret said the canonical novitiate term is a year …”

“Ah, yes, she’ll take her first vows tomorrow evening.”

I shook my head.

”Mother Superior, Sister Margaret has already taken her final vows, hasn’t she?”

“Into the old convent, but we have a new one if you recall.”

The abbess took a long drink directly from the bottle of white wine. I couldn’t see what it was; there was no label, and it was offered to me.

I took it and we looked at each other as I drank. It was delicious, there was a twinge of that alcohol flavor, but it was somehow merged, without being covered, with a sweet taste of some fruit I couldn’t identify.

I lowered the bottle, looking at it.

“What is this?” I asked her.

“I call it apple wine, but the fruit is certainly not an apple. I haven’t a clue what the Gof’nn Hupadgh call it.”

I was careful with my words then, not wanting to reveal that I had heard that name before.

“Who are they?” I simply asked.

“Oh, friends, fellow servants of the Goddess. Go lie on the bed and digest, it isn’t yet nine.”

I did as I was instructed, and Mother Superior bade me to drink more of the wine, which led to me lying on her bed, watching the ceiling spin pleasantly. At length, there came a knock.

“Come in, ah, Sister Margaret, welcome, why don’t you lie with Caroline for a bit?”

I pulled myself up, surprised. Margaret was dressed in a gown much like my own, but blue in color. She approached the bed and took a place next to me. The bed was not large, and she naturally and unashamedly pressed herself against me. We stared into each other’s eyes.

The Mother Superior ceased her work and turned her chair to us.

“Well, greet one another with a holy kiss,” she said.

Margaret took my face in her hands and pressed her soft lips to mine. I felt a bit nervous, unsure what game the abbess had in mind, but Margaret was there, and she seemed to be comfortable enough, so I responded to her kisses, sucking her tongue as she pushed it into my mouth. I slipped my hand under her gown, running my nails down her back. Our legs intertwined, the open gown allowing me to feel her skin pressing against me. Then I felt her wetness on my legs; she had on crotchless panties, just like mine.

“Strip her,” The Mother Superior said, clearly talking to Margaret, who had so quickly established that she was the leading partner.

I meekly allowed her to move me around, taking off my gown and panties. She stared down at me, seeming so tall as I lay there, although she was on her knees, she towered above me, seemingly powerful. I could almost feel the heat radiate from her as she breathed heavily, and not from exertion.

“Play with her tits,” she ordered Margaret.

Margaret knelt and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth, softly taking it in her teeth and flicking her tongue over it. Her left hand circled my other breast, not squeezing or grabbing, just caressing, letting her fingers circle my areola. I looked to the Mother Superior and saw that she was toying with her breast, but I also saw that on the desk next to her lay the Torok Grubre, without its harness. I felt a kernel of fear in my gut. The thing frightens me, for all the pleasure it can give, I know it to be no mere toy.

“Hurt her,” the abbess said.

I looked down at Margaret. I expected a look of apology, but there was only lust in her eyes. I gritted my teeth as she bit me, her left hand digging its nails into my breast.

“Make her scream,” Mother insisted.

Some deep, dark, sick part of me told me not to scream. Not to defy the Mother Superior … but to make sure the screams were genuine, to make Margaret work me over harder, to cater to their unholy desire to stoke the fire in their loins via my suffering.

It also stoked mine.

Margaret pushed me about the bed, yanking me, grabbing my hair, spanking me, choking me, but I didn’t scream, not until I came, Margaret’s three fingers buried in me to the knuckle, her lips sucking my neck for all she was worth.

The Mother Superior clapped, delighted.

“Incredible … what a delight you are, both of you. Now, Caroline, I give you the choice, shall I take Margaret’s Virginity, or shall you?”

I lay stunned for a moment by this question, glancing at the Torok Grubre. Margaret sensed my hesitation. Her face was still buried in my neck.

“Please, it’s yours,” she whispered to me.

I stared at the thing as the Mother Superior picked it up, idly toying with it.

“Although she likes to say she is a virgin, virgin, while technically true, is a strong word for Edith. Still, this will be the first time a cock has been in her cunt.”

I blinked at this, not because of the dubious nature of Margaret’s virginity, but because I’d never heard, hadn’t even thought about, the fact that ‘Margaret’ is in fact her surname, which of course it was.

“Don’t you think you get to call me Edith?” she whispered in my ear again.

I suppressed a smile at this. I don’t know why Margaret, Edith, dislikes being called by her first name, but I know I’ll be teasing her about it. Especially in bed.

“Decide,” the Mother Superior ordered.

“Please,” Margaret said, wrapping her arms around me and grinding her cunt on my thigh, ”Please fuck me, Caroline.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, pushing Margaret back.

I stood from the bed and accepted the Torok Grubre from Mother.

“Put it in you,” she instructed me.

I held my breath, pushing the head of the cock-shaped stone into my cunt, hissing as it opened me.

“Now rub it like you’re giving it a hand job and imagine it as a man’s cock.”

I did as she said, and in moments the smooth stone I was jerking became a penis, and I could feel my hand jerking an organ I’d never had, a soft but pleasurable series of waves emitting from a place I’d never felt.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled, transfixed, playing with the crown and squeezing the shaft, experiencing what it felt like to receive the actions that I’d done for so many men.

“Look at you,” the Mother Superior jokingly mocked, “Playing with yourself like a schoolboy, but come, or don’t I say. Do not cum unless someone is receiving the seed, do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Could this … impregnate her?” I asked.

“Yes,” the Mother Superior replied, her voice certain and unconcerned.

I must have looked at her in panic, for she then leaned in.

“Make her drink it,” she whispered in my ear.

Something about this thought made the Torok Gurbre jerk, and I jumped myself in surprise, both the other women laughing at me. It was strange to feel the thing pulse with life, having its own sort of moods. I climbed onto the bed, pushing aside Margaret’s gown and exposing her pussy, already shining with juices.

“How much have you put inside yourself?” I asked her.

“Not much,” she replied, “A finger or two.”

I was glad that at least she’d done that much, but I wanted her to be ready for the Torok Gurbre, which at the moment appeared as thick as three of my fingers, and I feared it was only going to grow. I lowered my face to her cunt and let spit run down my tongue onto it as I softly licked among her folds, hoping to drive her to greater heights of excitement.

I felt my new dick rubbing against the bed as I settled in, fully committing my mouth to Margaret’s pleasure. Her sighs and flowing juices were my reward, and I treasured them as a pirate taking the finest silks from the east as spoils of thievery. I feared, however, that my cock might burst, such was the excitement building inside me to plunder this defenseless vessel. If I had not stopped to cool myself for a moment, catching my breath and using a finger to caress the inside of Margaret’s vaginal tunnel, I might have lost the booty at sea.

“Take her,” Mother Superior said, watching from a few feet away.

Margaret nodded.

”Fuck me, Caroline, I’m ready.”

I tried to use what I knew from being on the receiving end of this play to properly position myself. I rubbed the head of my cock, now dripping precum, onto her labia. The angle was more difficult to find than I expected, and I had to reach down and grab the Torok Grubre, while pushing Margaret’s right leg up, to get the head against the opening to her vagina. I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes as I pushed forward. I saw her bite her lower lip, fist clenched. I knew it had to hurt.

One thing about the male organ, however, is that for me, there wasn’t a touch of pain. Her tight cunt, being forced wider than ever, was just heaven for me. The differences in texture between the labia and the inner part of her tunnel, the way some spots seemed a bit rougher.

“Fuck you feel good,” I told her.

I tried to move as slowly as I could, although the impulse was to sink the throbbing shaft deeper into her. Small movements seemed to affect her greatly, so I attempted to be glacial in my pace, giving me time to marvel at the new feelings the Torok Grubre was allowing me to experience.

After a few minutes of this, I began to feel a change in the way her pussy was accepting my cock, an idea which is incredible to reflect upon as I look back. I would swear it became smooth and was somehow paving the way for easier access, as though laying down tracks through the mountains. Margaret’s face clinched tight, her hands beating at the bedsheets, a low guttural moan escaped her lips, her back arching.

“Ughh, you fucking dyke,” she spat at me, “You God-damn, dirty, fricatrice!”

I slowly increased both the pace and the length of my movements, such that I noticed my borrowed member pushing about the length of my hand in and out of her. The way her cunt’s lips dragged along the shaft as I pulled out was arousing to me in both sight and feeling. Curiously, I saw the Torok Grubre had lengthened, but not thickened, as if it knew exactly the sort of stimulus my sexual partner would prefer.

“Does it feel good?” I asked her.

“What do you think?” she huffed, “You stupid dyke, fuck me!”

I was a bit hesitant to go too quickly, for fear of hurting my beloved, and I glanced at Mother Superior, as if for her opinion, which she provided.

“You heard her, Caroline. Fuck this wonton slut, treat her like a piece of meat.”

I took a deep breath and began to work the cock deeper, pushing it at slightly different angles, questing for the proper alignment of our bodies that would let me sink into her completely. When the path seemed to stall, I forced it, and Margaret made exclamations of both pain and pleasure.

“Oh God, Caroline, you feel so good … Jesus Christ, that hurts … uh … did I say stop you filthy lezzie? Ugh … didn’t you learn anything from all the men you let fuck you? Come on whore fuck me harder!”

If she intended to anger me, she finally succeeded. I assume that Margaret regurgitates what she has read in her dirty comics, but I also knew that the last was meant to incite me. I stopped worrying if I was hurting her and focused on how to draw the greatest pleasure from the Torok Grubre, my pacing changing as I searched for what rhythm might bring me to orgasm. I began to savor each slow outstroke alongside a quick thrust, literally slamming my hips into hers. She seemed to appreciate this as well, our eyes locking as we gasped for breath, her hips rising against my cock when she recognized the pattern in my lovemaking.

I judged from the noises she made and the spasms rocking her body that she came at least twice during this, the trembling of her breast a wonderful sight beneath me. I wanted to grab them, but I found I needed my hands to help me control the woman’s legs, which shook and quivered, threatening to interrupt the pleasure I was taking from her moist cunt.

“Do it, Caroline,” she sighed as I took her virginity, mine forever.

“In a moment,” I warned her, “You’ll swallow the seed.”

Her mouth gaped, clearly shocked by this request.

“I’ll what???” she stammered.

“Before I cum I’m going to put this cock in your mouth and you will suck the semen from it, do you understand?”

Almost humorously, I found myself speaking in time with my thrust; perhaps this was due to a lack of oxygen, as I was panting badly. The act of fucking a woman is remarkably strenuous.

Margaret looked to the Mother Superior, probably guessing this commandment came from her.

“You will,” the Mother Superior told her, ”You will not spill a drop. Do not look at me like that, savor the Torok Grubre’s gift. Be assured, you shall find it a splendid beverage.”

I felt my hips beating against Margaret almost of their own accord, an orgasm building in me, a volcano shaking the earth within me. I could not be sure at what moment it would erupt, and so I was forced to pull from her perhaps too early, and Margaret groaned her displeasure at my withdrawal, though she must have cum at least twice already.

I was rude in my need, dropping her legs and mounting her chest. I grabbed the back of her head and shoved the Torok Grubre into her mouth. I did not consider if she might mind the taste of her own deflowered sex, only that I needed to complete this act properly. Margaret’s eyes looked up at me, perhaps aroused, perhaps horrified. At that moment, I didn’t care; she would take my cum whether she liked it or not.

“Suck it bitch!” I yelled at her, pushing it insistently into her mouth.

I was cognizant of only feeding her about three inches, for I did not want the inexperienced woman to gag and spill the scared gift I gave her. Alas, Margaret was clueless as to how to handle the tool, and her confused expression, though cute, was accompanied by a total lack of a proper French job.

“She said, ‘Suck, Sister,” the abbess chimed in, “So suck her cock unless you want her to ram it down your throat.”

Margaret began an earnest attempt at playing my flute, sucking it like one would a lollipop, and I sighed. The sensation was nice, but something was missing, and I felt the molten lava receding.

“Your tongue,” I told her, “Use it, focus on the bottom, yes, that’s better.”

Margaret wiggled her tongue under the head of my cock, and I groaned, feeling the orgasm build. I fucked her face with shallow, slow movements, allowing her to maintain the feisty bath her tongue was giving my glans. The abbess left her chair and knelt next to the bed, her face inches from Margaret’s, eager the see me climax.

“God Margaret, ummm, so hot, you look so hot, I love you, I love you, I love you, I’m going to cum, drink it, doll, you gotta drink it, every drop, God damnnnn fuuuuuuck!”

I came with a shriek, and I could feel the cum, pumping through the shaft in a mind-bending and unnatural moment of sinful bliss.

“Swallow Margaret,” the abbess whispered, “Swallow as it comes, that’s right, don’t let it build up in your mouth, that makes it harder.”

The Mother Superior noticed a line of white semen leaking from Margaret’s lips and leaned forward, running her tongue from Margaret’s chin up across where the cock entered her mouth.

“Umm, it’s good, isn’t it?”

As I came down from the orgasm, I suddenly felt two things occur: the head of my unfamiliar organ became incredibly sensitive, and I was badly drained of energy.

“Ugh, what?” I mumbled in confusion, reaching down to push Margaret away.

I found that she had grabbed me by my ass and was inhaling more of the cock, she was four, then five inches down it.

“Ah! You can stop!” I shouted.

The Mother Superior laughed as I felt the head of my cock pop into Margaret’s throat. She was looking up at me, seemingly possessed.

I looked to the Mother Superior for aid. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Didn’t you do the same to me?” she asked rhetorically.

The sensitivity was declining, and I knew little Toro was ready again, needing what, for practical purposes, is no downtime. Margaret, for her part, had, apparently, completely changed her mind as to the act of swallowing semen. She was hell bent on repeating the experience, and as she realized I was in too weak a state to resist, she took one hand from my ass and placed it between her own legs, rubbing her freshly fucked cunt.

The Mother Superior stood and stepped up onto the bed. She moved to stand over me and presented her sex, which I could see was aroused by the engorged nature of the large mound and the strong but alluring scent of her womanhood. I knew what she wanted. I extended my tongue, my hands going to her luscious hips. With Margaret underneath me, sucking furiously on my cock, I began to eat the feast the Mother Superior gifted me. I used everything I could to both physically pleasure her and mentally arouse her, rubbing my face between her legs while looking into her eyes, completely debasing myself for her, letting her scent make me like an animal, her juices covering my face, the hairs of her pussy delightfully contributing to a feeling of utter depravity as I squeezed her round ass, letting my fingers play along the crack.

Margaret was equally engrossed with my member, although I could not watch, I felt her attempting to experiment with all manner of motions and give her throat over to the cock. She grazed me lightly with her teeth, something I’ve always thought needed to be avoided, but I found that when kept to a light touch, her teeth excited me, allowing me to conjure a mental image of exactly where the cocks head was, and the idea of her mouth on it made my insides melt. The Torok Grubre seemed to give me back enough energy to continue, and I ground my nose against Mother’s clit as I shoved my tongue into her vaginal tunnel.

The second orgasm came so easily. Servicing a wet cunt, what has become my greatest delight this past month, aroused me to no end, and Margaret had no difficulty obtaining her second helping of hot cum. I trembled as I realized she put the tip of my cock just inside her mouth, flicking her tongue over the slit, intentionally ensuring she could taste every drop of succulent cum as I spurted into her mouth.

As I shook with passion, I also fell back, totally unable to continue to hold myself up. I lay on the bed, seeing Margaret crawling up my body, licking her lips.

“Wait …” I whispered, knowing that the Torok Grubre was still hard.

Margaret’s eyes were fixed on mine as though to hypnotize me, and perhaps she did, for I couldn’t move as she mounted me, her juicy vulva so soft as she ran it up and down the shaft. I groaned in pleasure, but knew this needed to end.

“Margaret, wait …” I pleaded, but she didn’t heed.

The lips of her sex wrapped around my cock, and I cried softly as she rode me.

“Mother …” I moaned a plea for the Mother Superior, afraid she might let this continue.

If I came again, I feared it would suck all the life out of me. The bed shook as Margaret bounced on me, and the feelings of pleasure made my shallow breaths into ragged gasping, as of a man dying in a sanatorium, the nurses relieving my suffering but unable to save me from the ravages of tuberculosis.

And then I heard her voice, strong and commanding.

“Enough.”

Her arm wrapped around Margaret’s neck, pulling her off me, the cock slapping against my stomach as it popped from her cunt. The Mother Superior reached down and grabbed the thing, pulling it from me. It didn’t hurt, as I feared, but it felt awfully strange as the thing left my body, leaving me a natural woman again.

I lay exhausted, unable to move as I listened to the Mother Superior explain to Margaret that the third orgasm given by the Torok Grubre is dangerous, and not to tempt the Goddess. To my shock, she completed her explanation with another statement.

“Now, Margaret, it’s your turn.”

I felt the bed move as Margaret crawled over my helpless form. She was clumsy with it, and the shaft kept slapping around my thighs. She stroked my hair as she kissed me.

“You’re safe,” she assured me, ”All you need to do now is relax and enjoy.”

I wrapped my arms around her back as she entered me. I cooed in appreciation. For me, there was no real pain except that pleasant ache of a large cock with which I am all too familiar. I kissed her breast as they waved over my face, bouncing with her rhythm as she fucked me.

I was confused when the abbess made her roll over, putting me on top, for I was far too weak to perform in that position for Margaret; however, their intent was not for me to ride her. I gasped in shock as I felt it at the entrance to my ass.

“You … have two of them?” I whimpered.

Mother Superior entered me from behind, and I was impaled on two cocks. Margaret’s pulsing in my cunt from beneath, while the Mother Superior pushed into my bowels from above. It was an awkward position, to be sure, but neither of them seemed to mind as they justled with my body. My eyes must surely have rolled back in my head for everything became a blur. I mumbled and blathered nothing and whimpered and groaned in bliss as though I were an opium addled whore in the seediest brothel of Paris.

I felt the cocks rubbing their way deeper, the flesh between my ass and cunt hot from the friction. The lustful women used me that way until they had found a harmony that allowed both to fuck me deeply, and I came from an orgasm that left me crying, tears being kissed away by Margaret as her hands controlled my head, letting her lick up my cheeks and kiss me fiercely.

“Do you like it?” the Mother Superior asked, her voice low and sultry, promising delicious sins if only I said, “Yes.”

“I love it, mommy!” I hissed, truthfully.

“You never stopped being a whore, did you? You’re an unrepentant slut.”

She said as her nails dug into my hips. She used her hands expertly to guide my body, facilitating their use of me. Her words, on some level, hurt, reminding me what a nasty pervert I was, despite my faith, despite my parents’ upbringing. I was revelling in the act of being taken by two women. I felt ashamed, but also brimming with a craving for more.

“Oh God, I’m your slut mommy!” I cried.

Margaret asked the Mother Superior the most important question of the night, as she drove up and into me.

“Can I fuck her like this every day?”

Lord, please say yes. I thought.

The abbess chuckled.

”I’ll say when you’re allowed to use her, but be assured, she exists for us to fuck.”

I groaned, humiliation flooding me alongside what I knew was about to be an otherworldly climax.

“And to eat your pussies!” I moaned, “And lick your ass, ahhh, and worship your tits … God, fuck me …”

We all moaned and clung to each other as we came. They filled me with their warm seed, drops running down Margaret’s shaft from both my holes. As the Torok Grubre seems to do, it left me hungry for more, which they were glad to provide. The Mother Superior cleaned herself while I sucked every bit of cum off Margaret, and when the abbess returned, she fucked me from behind, her thrust forcing Margaret’s cock deep into my throat. I drank that load greedily.

“Uhh, Mommy, I want to drink yours too!” I begged.

She obliged me, and together we lay in the bed, the room stinking of sex in the most pleasant way. The three of us lay on either side of Mother in the small bed, crowded but not caring because we could not be close enough, pressing our bodies together. Me and Margaret nursed at her breast for a time as we relaxed, and we unintentionally aroused the Mother Superior to such a state that she made us crawl under the covers, she lay on her side and lifted her leg, allowing me to lick her asshole while Margaret ate her pussy, our tongues touching at times over the soft flesh between.

“Umm,” she moaned approvingly, “What sweet mouths my girls have, do you enjoy licking my ass, Caroline?”

To hear her say it out loud stirred my shame, which somehow made me want to paw at my cunt as I shoved my face deeper into her globes, extending my tongue in answer.

“And you, Edith, are you mommy’s good little cunt licker?”

“Oh God, yes, mommy!” Margaret said, reaching over, she started fingering my cunt, I spread my legs gratefully and returned her attentions.

I stumbled back to my room near midnight, so out of sorts I didn’t even realize Margaret had followed me until she plopped, naked, into bed with me. She mumbled something to me, perhaps, “I love you”, as I reached for this journal, and she has fallen asleep with her head on my ass as I write this.

The Mother Superior said that Sister Margaret takes her first vows tomorrow. I know my secrets are safe with her, but I wonder if now there is no chance for bringing all this to an end. In my saner moments, as now, when the lust is sated, I realize that the incredible acts of magic to which I have been witness are what are church fathers warned us about, and I feel myself slipping steadily into a coven of what must be some form of witchcraft. The temptation is not just in the flesh, but in the rationalization that this could be okay, that the hammer will not eventually fall.

But I know that doom is out there, waiting. What is the price of these sins, and when will we pay it?

June 3, 1933

I awoke this morning as Margaret was kissing me goodbye, heading to her daily rituals. I was slow to rise, pondering my circumstance. I sat myself at my desk and attempted to write a letter to the bishop. I felt I could anonymously inform him of the cult, and he could investigate, perhaps before my Margaret got in too deep.

Yet I couldn’t write it. I put the pen to paper and simply stared, befuddled. I thought back to the bishop’s visit and my desire to confess to him. I began to wonder: am I under a spell of some kind? Perhaps I am bewitched; this would explain how the convent keeps its secrets. It may be that there is a spell in the Mother Superior’s book that has allowed her to keep the nuns from going to the authorities, even if they realize the corruption running through their ranks.

The mechanism and method of such magic is currently beyond my understanding; the only way I can understand is to study the Mother Superior’s books, and the only way to do that is to continue to grow closer to her.

Margaret came to see me in the evening, explaining that she would take her first vows tonight, and that I needed to be ready to head out around midnight; until then, I could nap. Anxious, I paced in my room, donning a simple brown dress as instructed.

When the time came, there was a quiet knock, and I opened the door, surprised to see that the hallway outside my room contained a line of nuns, all walking into the gate, which was open to the forest. Some carried bags, others simply walked, arms crossed. Sister Margaret stood there, in a simple brown dress like mine.

“We’re going outside.”

Margaret reached up and wrapped something around my neck. Looking down, I saw it was a thin line of chain, smooth and silver.

“Sister!” I exclaimed, shocked and embarrassed.

She smiled at me and tugged on my new leash, pulling me forward. I made to protest for but a moment, knowing it would be fruitless.

As I left my room, I saw them, three men at the back of the line. I stared at them for a moment, startled to see men who were not of the cloth walking openly through the abbey. Each had a Sister on his arm, as though they led them to a dance. The men were dressed simply, in jeans and shirts, and reminded me of the field hands my father employed. Then we were moving, the line pushing me forward.

I proceeded into the gate, suddenly very curious, more intrigued than afraid. I’d wanted to see more of the forest, and now I’d have all this company to do so safely. The forest was cool, and as always, it appeared to be a calm night. Perhaps there’s no sun there, just three moons circling forever above a dreaming landscape.

The Mother Superior was there, dressed in red and carrying a large tome; she was the only one who wore something different. Sister West had Lily and was leading her around with her own chain about the poor girl’s neck. Others were in a similar state, perhaps eight of us, concubines. I could now see how many Sisters were truly in this sect, and their number was forty-two. This made my heart sink, for there are only fifty-eight Sisters in the abbey. I wondered how long they’d remain in the shadows, and if the last holdouts would soon find themselves concubines.

“Is this a dream?” I asked Margaret.

She smiled at me and reached out.

”Ouch!” I yelped, grabbing my tummy where she’d pinched me.

“Guess not,” she laughed.

We walked under the alien stars by the dim but adequate light of the three moons, and as we did, Sister West approached us and began to speak, “The first moon, the dim red one, that’s Far Darrig. He radiates vitality, the beating heart of living things.”

I listened intently to this, hungry to know more about the world on the other side of the gate. I saw, curiously, that the Sisters were picking up sticks as they walked, loading their arms with fallen branches.

“The second moon,” she continued, “The pale blue one, that’s Zephyr. She brings peace and calm to the land, letting us rest from the labors we endure.”

We kept to a trail, worn by many travelers and clearly discernible once I realized we were on it. As we walked, I began to hear the music and to see shapes moving in the forest. I got the sense that they were far enough away that the Sisters could pretend not to see them, and they could pretend to be watching us without our notice.

“Where did you learn these things?” I asked her, finding myself walking very close to Sister Lily, who gave me a sideways glance.

I wasn’t sure if it was anger; she may have been trying to connect with me.

“The natives, of course,” Sister West said, “The last moon is Athos, green and large, powerful and able to endure the hardships of life. With Athos as your patron, you can be sure to survive anything.”

The trees were large, and I couldn’t identify the species, but they were not native to North America. The canopy was not very thick, and moonlight filtered down, but inconsistently. Because the moons were different colored, this meant that at certain spots and angles, the colors were different, so that the whole of the forest seemed like a painting with a wavy discoloration about everything, and a faint glow from a light fog lent an unreal quality to the scene. It was beautiful.

“You know, Margaret,” Sister West continued, “You will be the first of us to take her vow, already having your own concubine.”

“Are the concubines usually … assigned?” Sister Margaret asked.

“Yes, but most of the concubines get passed around. Sister Philips does have a similar relationship with her concubine, and rarely shares her.”

I looked around and saw Sister Philips walking beside a middle-aged brunette wearing a leash. I noticed how they walked very close together, and then realized that they were holding hands. I suddenly wanted to hold Margaret’s hand, and tentatively reached for it.

“What are you doing?” she asked and yanked on my leash to correct me.

“Sorry, Sister,” I whispered.

I looked back at the men, wondering who they were, drifters from Arkham perhaps? They walked through the alien landscape as though in a dream, not reacting to the sudden and bizarre occurrence of stepping through a portal to another world.

Before long, we arrived at the banks of a river, the same one I’d seen in the distance on my escape from the labyrinth beneath the dungeon. Here, there was a structure, but it was little more than a foundation, with a pit in the center and a simple altar at the back. The Sisters began to throw their collected sticks into the pit, and some set about gathering more, filling the pit, perhaps ten feet across, with fuel for what must be a bonfire.

The Mother Superior placed her book upon the altar and looked at me and Margaret, motioning for us to come to her.

“Tonight, you will take your first vows, Margaret. Have you adequately studied the text?”

“Yes, Mother, I have.” Sister Margaret answered plainly.

They began to discuss the specifics of the ritual, which was very complex, with rites that must be strictly adhered to. For the moment, I was ignored, and I walked to the banks of the river, looking out across it. In the darkness, its water was black and could have consisted of ink for all I knew. It was as though I beheld a dark reflection of the Euphrates flowing through the garden of Eden. When I looked up from the sight, I saw him, a great centaur man, perhaps eight feet tall. He had approached so silently that he just seemed to have appeared, though I saw he did leave tracks.

Behind me, the gathered women of the abbey began to shout in joy.

”Chiron! He has come!”

I saw behind him more figures emerging from the tree line, not only centaurs, but satyrs as well. Though I had seen them from a distance, I stood in awe as they forged the river, their powerful bodies moving gracefully in and out of the water. They walked among the gathered Sisters and were greeted like family, with excited chatter and even embraces. I saw a centaur pick up a Sister and kiss her like a sailor returned from the Great War, another Sister buried her face between the tits of a buxom satyr, some laughed and held hands with the creatures. Some of the satyrs played flutes, skipping among the joyful flock.

The first centaur I saw, whose name was Chiron, approached me. He had long hair flowing down from the back of his statuesque human face, and an air of calm nobility about him as he softly moved through the river. I remembered my dream; this was the same centaur. My mouth was surely agape.

“Welcome to Gamaliel. Are you her new toy?” he asked me.

I didn’t even have to wonder what he meant.

”Yes,” I told him, wondering how many ‘toys’ preceded me.

The creature stepped up to me, towering over me by about three feet. Not only was he tall, but I felt his weight. The centaur’s power was palpable, and I shrank back a step, conscious that he could trample me like I was nothing.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, reaching out for my hand.

I stared at his palm for a moment, and it looked wholly human. I gave him my right hand and he placed it on his stomach, then pushed it down. I was acutely aware that on a man, my hand would be running down into his pants, yet the centaur did not bother with such things. I felt the strength of the tightly woven muscles under his skin and shivered.

“And is that the new wife?” he asked, pointing to Margaret, where she spoke with the abbess.

I nodded, and he slowly, still holding my hand, began to trot towards the pair. When we reached the altar, I saw that some Sisters had been busy, painting runes on the stone floor. The abbess saw us coming and held up a hand, motioning for us to stop.

“Don’t come ruining my ceremony, Chiron,” she said, in good humor.

We stopped just off the altar.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lady,” the centaur told her.

At that moment, a female satyr sprang next to us, the ground quaking as she landed next to me, and I instinctively pressed myself against Chiron, as though he were safety. The satyr had black horns and pale skin, her lower body covered in dark grey fur. Her eyes were dark, but not black, not lifeless. There was a glimmer in them of mischief, and she chuckled as Chiron reprimanded her for rudeness. Her dark areola was prominent on the white skin of her breast, and I found myself staring. She noticed this and licked her lips for my benefit.

“Which of the men are mine?”

She then demanded, in an excited voice that contrasted with her size and obvious physical power, almost pouting.

“Take whichever you choose, Dea,” the Mother Superior responded.

“Good, and can I borrow this one?” she asked, looking at me.

“No.” The Mother Superior replied flatly.

Dea gave a courtesy and pranced away, laughing.

“There is one other matter,” Chiron said.

“And what is that?” the Mother Superior inquired.

“I have one of your runaways.”

The abbess froze, as though suddenly a statue. For a long moment, she stared at him, and then,

“What is his condition? Have you brought him?”

“He is well, in fact, the man is of some great health, much to the delight of Eisheth, whose fault it is that he is not here already. She will bring him along shortly.”

“No,” the abbess looked around, seemingly to check who else was hearing this conversation, “Keep him for now, I will come back for him. Speak no more on this for now.”

Her eyes settled on me. I think she meant to convey that I, too, should not mention what I’d just heard.

“The man is dangerous. He knows some powerful arts.”

“I said no more,” the abbess scolded, sounding annoyed.

“Very well,” Chiron took the hint.

The next few minutes I spent in idle conversation with Chiron and some of the satyrs. The oddness of it occurred to me, of course, but what could I do but accept that yes, these things were real and yes, they wanted to talk about banal goings on at the abbey and Arkham, as well as sharing such stories from their own community. The satyrs were mostly female, while the centaurs were mostly male. I couldn’t help but wonder if they copulated. I suspect they did, for I saw some of them standing very close to one another, arms draped across each other, sometimes caressing.

It was then time for the ceremony, which was strange, yet familiar. The abbess began to make a sermon, but she spoke in an alien tongue, completely foreign to me. Sister Margaret knelt next to her; she murmured her own prayers in Latin, but seemed to match the rhythm of the Mother Superior. The fire grew as the sermon went on, its orange light intense in the pale gloom of Gamaliel’s eternal night.

The music of the satyrs continued during this, but it was played with a respectful volume and a tempo that accentuated the sermon, establishing an air of the mystical. As I was pondering what was being said, Margaret stood, discarding her clothes. She stepped to the edge of the platform, raising her arms, she called out, “Sursum Corda!” which I recognised, it’s the call to lift your heart in prayer.

I saw Sister West lead one of the men, a strapping young lad with black hair and tanned skin, up to stand beside Sister Margaret. She turned and, to my horror, kissed him. I felt a swell of jealousy, silly, I suppose. Obviously, this was part of the ritual, but I didn’t like it; something about her touching a man bothered me. Hypocritical, perhaps, as I stopped counting men after the twentieth. Although that was before I’d found sapphic bliss at the abbey.

I looked to my right and saw the satyr, Dea, physically tearing the clothes off one of the other men. The man was pale and lanky, but handsome, nonetheless. He seemed to go along with it, complacent. A male centaur approached, and she growled a warning at him.

”This one is mine first, Nessus!”

“I know,” Nessus replied, “You warm them up so good I’ll take your seconds.”

The third man was being stripped with more care by a group of nuns; they were sort of fawning over him, kissing him and rubbing his chest. This man had a full beard, with thick, dirty blond hair. The sisters seemed to like it and were running their hands through his chest hair, giggling like schoolgirls. The man accepted this stoically.

I looked around and saw that the revelry was spreading rapidly. Sisters were quickly discarding their clothes, mingling with the natives of the forest. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Sister Philips and her concubine crawling under a centaur who stood with arms crossed, passively allowing the smaller humans to explore his body. Sister Philips extended her arms to his large testicles, cupping them and giving them a slow massage. Her concubine was kissing his belly, her hands working on his sheath. Inside the outline of his cock began to show, slowly growing and peeking out. The woman leaned in as it did, and I nearly fainted when she started licking around the head.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I turned and saw Sister West by my side.

I shook my head.

”It’s ghastly, it’s … well, they’re beast …”

This made both her and Chiron laugh.

“Well,” she responded, “Mother Superior bids you to prepare Chiron for her.”

“Wh-what?” I asked, barely comprehending.

“When she is ready, she won’t want to wait; she gets very worked up during these initiation rites.”

I looked to the stage and I saw that Margaret was unbuckling her man’s pants, letting them fall to the ground. He was starting to become less lethargic, kissing her back strongly, his hands slowly going to her exposed breast. My heart was in my throat as she reached down, touching his hardening shaft with her delicate fingers.

Chiron’s hand was on my shoulder.

”Shall we kiss?” he asked me.

“Would that prepare you?”

“It’s a start,” he smirked at me, and his hand worked my gown, letting it fall from my shoulders.

He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and I wrapped my arms and legs around his torso, with his hands on my ass, holding me up, Margaret’s chain dangling from my neck. I felt very small there; his chest was broad and warm, my tits were smaller than his pecs, though he was by no means feminine. I knew that he could break me with a modest effort, yet he was perfectly gentle, bringing me up so that I could put my lips to his.

I have not been with a man for some time, and it felt strange. How quickly I’ve grown comfortable with the fairer sex, that now a masculine jaw seems so unfamiliar. Like everything about him, his mouth and tongue were large, and sucking it as he pushed into my mouth was almost like having a large man’s cock pushing towards my throat. I couldn’t deny a certain excitement, heightened by nervousness and fear.

He suddenly hoisted me up higher, his wide mouth going to my nipples, which had hardened, surely from the night air’s chill, and I felt his warm lips encircle them, his powerful tongue going in circles and flicking the tip. I was free to look about, and I saw that Dea had her man naked and was holding his face to her breast, enjoying similar attention to what I was receiving. Nessus stood by, his erect horse cock unashamedly hanging out.

Philips’s hands were on her concubine’s head, and she was forcing her down on the length of their centaur lover’s shaft. I saw the woman’s throat bulging as the huge head of the thing was pushed deeper, spit running down her neck. I remembered using the Torok Gurbre, and I realised I could now appreciate in a way I never could have before, what a male creature might be feeling during such acts.

Her throat must have been wonderful on his massive organ. It was surely unbelievably tight, her body’s trembling a delightful set of ripples along his length. To be so deep as well, feeling the heat of the core of her body, must have been heavenly. Philips let her choking companion breathe after a moment, the cock popping from her mouth, and Philips took a turn, sucking the head of the thing between her lips, which stretched to accommodate its size.

I heard the voices of the nuns with the third man as I watched this abomination playing out.

“I’m going first tonight! Don’t worry, I won’t be long, I’ll have him cumming in two minutes!”

“You had better not!”

“I want to taste his seed!”

“Then lick me while I ride him!”

Philips pulled her mouth off and started slapping her concubines face with the enormous tool. The poor woman sought after it with her mouth and tongue, trying vainly to get it back. I saw her face began to glisten as it was covered in precum, and finally she latched her mouth to its side, sucking and running her tongue up and down the bottom. Philips began to do the same, and they mingled their spit on the cock as they shared it.

I glanced back at Margaret and saw her on her knees, the man’s right hand lightly on the back of her head. She was bobbing on his cock, working him intently, with purpose. It looked as though she was learning fast for her second time Frenching a penis. I was mesmerized until Chiron abruptly lowered me to the ground.

“Alas,” he said, “The one curse of the centaur is I cannot look upon you while you do your magic, but know that it will be appreciated.”

I swallowed, looking at his lower body. I knew what was expected of me.

Stomach in knots, I crawled under him, seeing that his cock was only just peeking out, like an uncircumcised man. I guess my kissing hadn’t aroused him enough. My hands shook as they reached out. I thought of Leviticus 18:23, and my head spun. Sister West was standing a few feet away, watching. Lily was kneeling between her legs, and I could tell she was bathing Sister West’s sex slowly with her tongue, neither of them in any hurry. I saw Lily’s tight little ass pointed in my direction, and it was covered with marks; I believe they were from a whip.

This is a show for her. I thought. West is going to get off on my debasement.

I wanted to stop, to say enough, but the red welts on Lily’s ass informed me what would happen if I did. Willing and enthusiastic slut. I remembered. That’s what I am, what I must be.

“God forgive me,” I whispered as I parted my lips.

I pushed my tongue against the flat, mushroom-shaped head of Chiron’s cock, and it seemed to retreat some into its sheath. I ran my hands along the concealed member, coaxing it out as I circled my tongue around the entrance. As he hardened, I pressed my lips to the opening of his sheath and let the cock emerge straight into my waiting mouth. The head of the thing was massive, forcing open my jaw. This stimulation proved more than arousing to him, and soon I was being pushed back by the length of him, the cock emerging inch after inch until I had a full mouth and both hands lightly stroking his shaft.

At least he is clean. I thought. The centaurs must practice some form of hygiene like humans, for I have worked around many horses, and know that often we had to ensure such parts of them were cleaned.

“Goddess, that is beautiful,” Sister West said, her fingers running through Lily’s hair, pressing the girl’s face into her, “Can you get it into your throat?”

God, there’s no way. I thought. With my jaw stretched on the cock I shook my head. Chiron groaned above me, and I saw his ribs flexing as he breathed deeply. Despite myself, I felt a sense of accomplishment; this mythical being was being excited by me, my feeble efforts, my frail body, were causing the mighty creature to lose its noble composure.

“Lily, go help her,” Sister West said.

I saw Lily turn towards me, a big smile on her face, wet though it was with her mistress’s juices.

Oh no.

She crawled next to me and started kissing my cheeks, then her tongue slipped inside my ear. Her hand went to the back of my head, and I knew I was about to experience what I’d seen from a distance moments ago.

“Choke on it, you bitch,” she said as she pressed me forward.

I gagged as it pressed against the back of my throat, but Lily wouldn’t let me retreat. She pressed forward, and I was experienced enough to start trying to swallow, but the sheer size of this goliath piece of flesh complicated the act. Lily sucked on my earlobe.

“We’ve got to get out of this, Caroline,” she whispered.

I was so surprised I actually relaxed my oesophagus for a moment, and Chiron speared into my throat. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable. The fullness of my gullet was obvious to Lily, who started stroking my neck. Her fingers traced the outline of Chiron’s cock as it pushed deeper.

“You did it,” she mumbled in awe.

I couldn’t respond, of course.

“Very nice,” Chiron complimented from above.

It was strange, being unable to see the face of the man whose cock was penetrating a foot into my body. I also realized, despite the discomfort, that the feeling of the flesh twitching and still growing a bit in my throat was incredibly erotic. I could tell exactly where the wide head of his meat was located in my throat. The head was softer than a man’s, and the shaft more pliable, making this particular act easier. I could not, however, really work him with my tongue, for my mouth was crammed full. I had to use my whole mouth and throat to attempt to pleasure him. Drawing oxygen was incredibly difficult as well, and the familiar stars sparkled in front of my eyes. Was I touching myself? No, Lily was idly playing with me. I groaned in encouragement, my pussy spasming.

Lily started guiding me, helping me force the cock in and out, fucking my throat in long strokes without ever pulling out. I gurgled on it, spit that I couldn’t swallow dripped out of my lips, and a profane sound of gulp, glug, suuuurlp came from me. Lily was working my sex like a guitar, fingers dancing among the folds. I made sure to catch a breath on an outstroke before letting her push me back down. I was going to cum, choking on this horse cock, and it was going to be incredible. I just had to not pass out first because I was struggling to maintain consciousness. The fire, paradoxically fueled by lack of oxygen, was raging in my loins.

Chiron was leaking precum. I could only taste a hint of it, as the head of his cock had been in my throat for most of my service to him, but on the outward strokes, some did come up. I knew there was a large quantity of it because of how slick my throat had become. It was well lubricated and working his shaft with ease. I was moaning loudly, the discomfort having passed, and the sinfulness of the act filling me with self-loathing and also making me want to turn around and give Chiron my wet sex.

I was able to see Margaret out of the corner of my eye; she was jerking the tanned man’s cock furiously, licking the tip as she did. His head was thrown back and his fist clenched, I watched as I worked for I knew he was about to cum, and when he did, I saw my sweet Margaret wagging her tongue amid the flow of semen. She took some in her mouth, but most poured over her lips and down her chin, dripping onto her large tits. I shuddered at the sight, jealous in two different ways.

“Is this how you get your jollies? Jesus, Caroline …” Lily said, but even as she did, I saw the fascination in her eyes.

She licked her lips, and I knew she was wondering what it was like to take the centaur in her throat, and her fingers kept frigging me, pushing me up, up and up, until I quivered in orgasm and sucked hard on Chiron’s cock. I groaned in appreciation to Lily and Chiron, and even as I did, I heard her voice.

“That will be enough for now, Caroline, thank you,” the Mother Superior said.

Lily let go of my head, crawling back to Sister West. I let the cock wetly slip from my mouth, gasping for air, ropes of spit and precum hanging in strands connecting my lips to his cock.

The abbess was standing there, glaring at Sister West, who burst out laughing. I suddenly understood, the abbess had not asked me to do this. I wiped my mouth, trying to remove the evidence that I’d been performing an equestrian act of fellatio. I wanted to crawl into the woods and hide myself from the shame, but instead, I was naked and shivering for all to see.

I realized intellectually, however, that none of them really cared. Women were engaging in wanton acts of depravity up and down the riverbank. The Sister who had ridden the man closest to me must have been successful in getting him off as quickly as she claimed, for he had curiously been dressed again, and now sat alone, looking serenely out over the river, little evidence of his dalliance upon him.

The women of the abbey engaged in a great orgy with the satyr and centaur. Women had wine, whether carried in their bags or given by the natives, I know not, and were drinking while fornicating. I saw satyrs and centaurs ploughing women’s fertile bodies, cocks positioning into their lush cunts with inhuman fervor, matched at each turn by eager legs thrashing against them. Even those satyrs who continued the music were engaged, for I witnessed nuns with their faces pressed into the cunts of flute-playing satyrs with voluptuous bodies, some of which were secreting milk as they became excited, a tonic that the women lapped up appreciatively.

“Neither left she her whoredoms brought from Egypt,” the abbess said, looking down on me.

I was quiet for a moment, but my shame seemed to shift some, into anger.

“Aholah was less a whore than her sister, though, wasn’t she, Mother?” I said back, and she took my implication.

Reaching down, the abbess grabbed my hair and led me out from under Chiron, who took this scene in entirely as a passive observer.

“That’s right, I’m more of a whore than you could ever be,” she whispered.

Her face then softened.

“It’s okay,” she knelt and pulled me close, “In the future know that I will never make you lie with another unless we are doing it together. I’ll tell you a secret,” her voice dropped very low, as if this was a great secret, “I think I’m going a little lezzie for you.”

Then she kissed me. I saw Margaret on the platform. She was staring at me with a strange expression. It took me a moment to realize it was jealousy. I was spitefully glad to see it, and kissed the abbess back hard, making sure Margaret could see my hands wrap around her. I noticed that the man she’d brought to orgasm was composed again and sitting quietly by the fire. This made me wonder about the third, and as I looked for him, I saw that he was still engaged with Dea and a group of nuns, who were apparently taking turns riding his face and cock.

Mother pulled away from me.

”I have to repay our host now, love. Why don’t you go stand by Margaret?”

I stepped up next to Margaret and saw that, though this foundation was only a few feet tall, it gave a great view of what transpired below.

“Enjoyed sucking that horse’s cock did you, whore?” Margaret sneered at me.

“Not as much as you liked swallowing some hobo’s cum, Edith.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a wife now,” she hissed, angry but keeping her voice down, “You better show me some respect or …”

“Or what? I’ll just tell the Mother Superior I don’t want to see you anymore.”

There was a moment of quiet, we watched the abbess lick her way up Chiron’s chest, and with his assistance, kiss and suck his neck. I heard a whimper from Margaret and glanced over, seeing the tears running down her face, mingling with the cum.

“Margaret …” I started, and I suddenly knew true shame.

The pain of seeing her cry dwarfed the embarrassment of having serviced Chiron.

“Margaret, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”

I turned and wrapped my arms around her, pressing my face into her breast, uncaring that the semen there smeared onto my cheeks. She embraced me back, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, little doll,” she choked, “I love you.”

I don’t believe anyone in the crowd paid us any heed, though I wonder what the nuns would have thought of our whispered reassurances, done so publicly. All the women who weren’t busy being railed by the unholy creatures of this land were fixated on the Mother Superior.

She bent over under Chiron’s massive form, her long legs allowing her back to press into his stomach, lining his cock up with her luscious bush. I could hear her talking filthy words of encouragement to him.

“You want this pussy, Chiron?”

“Hmmm, yes, I do, Ms Prinn.”

“Would you rather I have the farm girl back over here?”

“That puny thing? I’d break her,” Chiron scoffed.

“Hmm, I imagine she’s experienced in handling stallions; she might corral you before we’re done.”

Seeing the abbess handling his cock, and the fact that it was as large as her arm, I couldn’t believe it had been down my throat. I understood that this was the reason for the centaur’s passivity. The large beings were being careful; were they to follow their instincts and flex their powerful muscles, they could ‘break’ a human woman quite easily. Chiron allowed the Mother Superior to control the pace, and I could see his focus on restraining himself. There was some twitching in his hind legs, a reflex, as the abbess worked his cock into her juicy pussy. Chiron sighed his pleasure as the large head probed her deeper.

Margaret turned my attention fully to her as she kissed me. Her mouth tasted of cum, but I didn’t mind. I licked it from around her lips, feeding it into her mouth. I felt I should finish the job, so I sucked it off her chin and neck, working my way down to her breast. She ran her fingers through my hair as I cleaned her, sucking drops of cum off her nipples. She was still trembling a bit from the sudden onrush of emotion, but also experiencing a growing need.

“Ahh,” She groaned above me, “Ger on your knees and eat me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice, dropping down for anyone to see, tongue extended for my lover to use. She rocked on my face, moaning my name as I lapped at her verdant womanhood. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of dozens of women moaning and screaming into the night air, hearing the abbess scream as she permitted Chiron to start fucking her. I had to glance at that, had to see the blasphemy taking place so near me.

The Mother Superior’s arms were wrapped around Chiron’s front legs, which were serving to brace her against his cock. She made exaggerated faces for the crowd, many of whom watched her, while Chiron softly moved his hips, fucking her cunt with strokes that were so long I wondered how the thing had space inside her body to fit. I swear I saw her abdomen expand with the inward motion of his cock.

“Look up at me,” Sister Margaret said, demanding my attention.

I locked eyes with her, demonstrating my submission by burying my nose in her moist vulva, the folds of it soft against my mouth. I hummed the tune of the flutes as I teased and toyed with her lips, watching her nod her approval.

“That’s right, lick me there, harder, uhh, make me cum on your face, Caroline.”

Her body shook, and I kept my mouth on her as she staggered, slumping to the ground. I stayed between her legs, pushing them up with my hands, exposing more of her and sucking hard on her clit.

Someone slapped my ass, and I squealed into Margaret’s cunt. I felt them walk past me and glanced up; it was Sister West.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” She chuckled, walking towards the tanned man who sat by the fire.

She leaned over his shoulder and whispered something in his ear, then walked back to us.

“Hmm, looks like your lips are available, Sister Margaret.”

Margaret started to protest.

”I’m a wife now …” but Sister West grabbed the back of her head, holding her still while she lowered herself to our level, her cunt silencing Margaret’s pleas.

“Don’t fuss, dear wife. Ahhh, that’s a soft tongue. Every new wife has to service the Matriarchs on her first night. You’ll even need to lick Sister Rice, that one will take a while, she doesn’t like girls at all.”

Indeed, as I watched West’s hips swaying to the music, poor Margaret trying to work her sex as it danced in front of her face, I felt the presence of two other women. They walked in a circle around us, inspecting and commenting.

“Well, let’s get this over with. I’ve only had satyr cock so far, I need to finish the night with something bigger.”

The speaker was in her late thirties, I believe, of average build, with dark hair. I saw that she was partly covered in some kind of paint, dark blue and red forming patterns around her body with no meaning I could discern, although the strange geometric shapes held a certain beauty. She was also quite dirty and disheveled, with cum leaking from her wet cunt.

“You may go next, Sister Rice,” West told her, grunting as she ground on Margaret’s lips, ”If this little bitch will suck harder, you won’t wait long … ughhh she’s learning from her little lesbian here.”

A woman knelt next to me, rubbing her hands across my body.

“This is a sweet one,” she said, with a thick French accent, “Let me try.”

She told me and nudged me over, her face joining mine at Margaret’s pussy. She was a dark-haired, supple woman, with huge areolas that I wanted to suck as soon as I saw them, but they were out of sight once she lay next to me.

“She is supposed to lick us, Sister Franklyn,” Sister Rice said disapprovingly.

Franklyn made an indistinct noise of dismissal, her mouth already full of Margaret’s sex, her tongue trying to push into the squirming woman’s vagina. I kissed where I could reach, Margaret’s thighs, her crotch, Franklyn’s cheeks, for a moment before Franklyn backed up enough that I could dive in with her, our tongues playing together amid Margaret’s sex, the pink folds so tightly packed among her engorged mound that our cheeks were pressed together.

I could hear Margaret as she began to cum, the overwhelming sensations of two pairs of lips worshiping her sex too much to resist, and I suspect she really enjoyed eating Sister West’s cunt as well, for I heard West’s cry of pleasure as she came, ass shaking over my beloved face.

Rice wasted no time taking her place, though Margaret immediately looked disgusted when she saw the mess that was Rice’s sex.

“Oh, don’t you fuss,” Rice told her, “This is satyr cum, and it isn’t tart or sour in the least, you’ll find it indescribably delicious in fact.”

Margaret gave a pitiful whine as Sister Rice sat rudely on her face, pinning her against the ground.

“Ahhh, get in there, don’t be ashamed. I’ll try to pretend you’re a strong, built man and not some muff-obsessed lesbian. Ugh, that’s right, clean me out, get all of it. I want to be pristine when I submit myself to Chiron, sometimes I’m lucky enough for him to fuck me right into the dirt …”

Sister Franklyn turned to me, abandoning Margaret’s sex for the moment. She kissed me full on the lips.

“I’m not sure I can wait through how long that’s going to take,” she whispered, “Maybe you can get me started.”

She ignored my whimper as she pushed me away from the treat I’d been enjoying, lying herself on top of me and grabbing my breast, shoving her tongue, wet with Margaret’s juices, into my mouth. Her hand went lower, probing my cunt, squeezing it and making me unconsciously part my legs.

She sucked and licked my breast as she fingered me, easily bringing me to orgasm in my aroused state, the carnival of perversity having put me into the state of a deranged sex addict. The sounds of women being fucked and sucking each other’s cunts were so pervasive, so intoxicatingly all-consuming that it might well have been the delusions of an asylum inmate, for conceiving that the waking world could contain the depravity required to marinate my body so deeply it was difficult to contemplate.

I believe I kept cumming as Franklyn rode my face, though she was no longer touching me. I reached out with my left hand and found Margaret’s. We squeezed each other’s fingers so tightly that it hurt as the women came on our faces. Even Sister Rice was so aroused she refused to get off of Margaret, demanding another orgasm as West took her place over me.

“It’s time I felt your sweet little lips on my asshole,” she informed me, facing my feet as she mounted me.

She was not disappointed, for I was in a haze of lust and would probably have performed any sexual act requested of me by any party present. I worked her tight asshole lovingly, the globes of her rear pushing me into the ground as I did, trying to get my tongue ever deeper inside her.

When the matriarchs were done with Margaret, they left us, exhausted, lying on the platform. Margaret held me from behind, our bodies locked together. I believe I almost drifted off to sleep, but then I saw him, the tanned man, stand up and step onto the edge of the bonfire, which was peculiarly raging in a manner far greater than the fuel provided it should have allowed.

I started to sit up.

“Sir?” I asked, but he paid me no heed.

“What is it?” Margaret asked, confused.

I struggled to my feet.

”Sir!” I called out, concern growing inside me.

The man spread his arms, turning towards me. On his face was an insane grin, as though he were a murderer who’d just seen his heart weighed by Anubis and discovered himself pure, laughing as he improbably proceeded into Aaru.

I knew, somehow, had known since I saw them, that the Sisters ultimately had ill intent for these men. I know not what sort of spell was placed upon them, yet bewitched they surely were. I turned and saw the man that Dea had chosen; she cradled him in her lap, facedown. I saw that he was becoming frantic, shaking off the stupor. Three Sisters were with them, two were touching his sides, comforting him, while the third lay between his legs, her face pushed into his asscheeks, likely licking him.

“Where am I?” I heard him say, he sighed from the pleasure his ass was receiving, but it did not blot out the bizarre circumstance he found himself in.

“Relax,” she told him, “I’ve chosen you; you’re spared.”

“What is going on!” he whined, terrified as he looked up at the mythical creature.

“Shhhh, you’ll be fine. Nessus needs his turn with you, though.”

“What?” the man asked, bewildered.

I saw Nessus approach as the girl between the man’s legs pulled back, her face shiny with spit and sweet. The nuns on the man’s sides hoisted his ass up while Dea held his head down in her lap. The man tried to squirm away, but the satyr held him down like a child as Nessus settled over them, the Sisters taking his cock and lining it up with the man’s asshole, which I can only assume had never received a male organ.

I looked away before the screams began, to the last man. He still sat serenely by the river, gazing outward. I returned to the man by the fire just in time to see him start to let himself fall. I began to sprint forward, but it was hopeless. The pit, once I was at the edge, proved far too deep. I could not reach him, only able to watch in horror as the man thrashed among the burning wood.

Margaret sobbed, and I saw that she had sat up and covered her mouth to stop from screaming. I stood frozen, staring into the fire as the man went still, barely able to comprehend what he’d done. The rest of the crowd ignored this event, as though it were trivial.

When I walked back to Margaret, she stood, and we held each other. I saw that the Mother Superior was seated on Chiron’s back, and they were watching the river, perhaps twenty feet behind the last stoic man.

I heard the sound of many branches snapping and saw the trees shaking on the other side of the river. The jubilant crowd went silent, except for the moans of the man now fucking himself on Nessus’ huge member. The playing took on a more urgent tone, the dedicated pipers lining up behind Chiron, doing a sort of tap dance in synch that would have been a remarkable demonstration of skill even on Broadway.

A thing then emerged from the tree line opposite the river. Margaret gasped, and I trembled, stepping behind her instinctively, as though she were my strong Spartan warrior. The thing had legs that were thick as an elephant’s, but hooved like a goat, and a great many mouths circled its body. Black tentacles extended upwards from it, waving like tree branches in the wind. I was reminded of the thing from the stairwell, yet this could not be the same creature, for its form, while bizarre, was not amorphous, but concrete.

The man stood, spreading his arms and wading into the river.

And then Margaret acted as though she were a great warrior, springing into action. She ran the yards between us and the man and grabbed him, trying to pull him back. Their ankles splashed in the water as they wrestled.

“Fool, are you blind?” she screamed at him, resorting to physically striking at him in an attempt to bring him to his senses.

Nothing worked. The creature stepped into the water on the opposite side, and I screamed for Margaret to come back. She turned and started splashing back towards the bank as the creature stepped easily through the shallow river. The man raised his arms to it, not reacting even as the terrible teeth closed over him, devouring his upper body in one swift bite.

The thing stood, chewing the man’s corpse. I heard the sound of bones crunching in its jaws, blood gushing from the mouth it had used, and the others opened and closed, growling softly.

There was a soft round of clapping, as though we had just witnessed a fine round of golf. Marget was about to set foot back on dry land when one of the things’ tentacles whipped downwards, coiling around her waist.

Both she and I screamed, and I jumped from the platform, sprinting towards her.

“Margaret!” I screamed.

Even as I did, I heard the galloping hoofs behind me, and felt myself painfully jerked back; the chain around my neck, all but forgotten, had been grabbed. I choked and fell, looking back. Chiron, with the abbess on his back, had intercepted me.

“Mother …” I croaked painfully, as I watched Margaret being dragged to the sky.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” the abbess said, hopping off Chiron and wrapping her arm around my shoulder, “She just got too close.”

“There must be something you can do!” I begged, knowing Margaret had only moments left.

“Hmmm, well, I could, but if I do, will you devote yourself to me totally? No more holding back? No more keeping part of yourself secret?”

“Yes! Anything!” I pleaded.

“Very well,” the Mother Superior turned and, just before Margaret met the thing’s jaws, screamed out in the same tongue she had preached in.

The creature went utterly still, and then it lowered Margaret to the shore, dropping her into the shallow water. She scrambled up and ran to me, crashing into my outstretched arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I told the abbess as Margaret and I held each other.

“Dea!” the Mother Superior called out.

“I know …” the satyr replied, her voice clearly annoyed.

I looked over and saw her tying the man she’d ‘chosen’ to a tree. He was staring in horror at the large monstrosity that was wading in the river.

“Alas,” she said sadly, stroking his face, “Our time together was too brief.”

The crowd began to move away, Chiron and the abbess pulling me and Margaret with them. When we’d cleared the space, the creature advanced up the shore towards the bound man, who began to scream just as the thing’s tentacles ripped him from his captivity. I couldn’t look away. The thing ate him more slowly than it had the first man, pulling his limbs off and chewing them as he screamed.

Afterwards, Dea and Chiron escorted our group back to the gate. The Mother Superior allowed Margaret and me the privilege of riding on Chiron’s back. On the way, Chiron explained to me that if a ‘dark young’ claims a sacrifice it can be traded for, but payment must be made.

“Dea will expect repayment for her gift as well, but she knows that the Mother Superior will provide. Satyrs are easier to deal with than the dark young.”

I was glad my room was so close to the gate when we returned. I collapsed with Margaret into the bed. She was bothered, I know, for her efforts to help one man had only gotten another killed, much like my attempts to save Dumonte. It seems all good deeds turn to evil in the shadow of this cursed place.

THE END OF CHAPTER FIVE