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

AUTHOR’S NOTES: With all my love to Sandra … (where are you, Sandra)? This story was originally uploaded back in 2013; but after re-reading it again; I thought it could be improved, so this is a reworked version of ‘Things That Go Bump In The Night’. Hope you agree.

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Blasphemy, Sacrilege, Coercion, Corruption, Lolita, NC, Rape, Sadism, MC, Demons, Supernatural, Evil themes

CREATED: 09.10.2017 / REVISITED: 13.09.2023

Things That Go Bump In The Night


Alicia North was thirteen when she moved to live with her Aunt Candice in the rural village of Windy Forest. Killed in a recent motor vehicle accident, her mother and father unfortunately left nothing but bad debt behind. Their destitute daughter has never felt so alone. On top of that, all things at Windy Forest are also not as they seem. Her Aunt’s hermit-like existence, her love of dark things, and the unexpected feelings that she evokes inside Alicia, soon gather both apprehension as well as intrigue about her own kin.

Alicia and Candice bear an uncanny resemblance to each other, more like twins. They could even be mistaken for each other. When the local folks of Windy Forest confuse Alicia for her spinster Aunt, she becomes embroiled in the depth of her Aunt’s salacious strangeness. There is something seductive, taboo, and incestuous lurking just beneath the surface that seems to have been always omnipresent. Now this evil both repulses and attracts Alicia, and despite all the warnings to the contrary Alicia finds herself drawing towards a tempting wickedness on a voyage of sexuality, Satanism, and self-discovery of who they both really are.


Alicia North was just thirteen years old when she had no choice, but to move to live with her Aunt Candice in the small and isolated rural village of Windy Forest.

Surrounded by some of the countryside’s densest forestlands, Windy Forest had only one road in and out; and with the seasonal heavy rains and overflowing of the Northern River’s banks, this was frequently blocked, effectively cutting the tiny community and village off from the outside world.

This however did not seem to worry the local folk, in fact, it seemed to be an enduring feature of their preferred remote and very private lifestyles. It seemed to young Alicia that the women of Windy Forest liked to keep to themselves. They seemed to shun outsiders, and within their close-knit community, the only social interaction was every Sunday morning, when everyone met for solemn prayers at the old chapel.

The funeral of her mother and father had been the second saddest day in her young life. The first was the day she learned about her parent’s fatal car crash. She had been spared the carnage, being sick with the flu at home on the day in question; otherwise, she too would have definitely perished in the rear of her father’s sedan, as it was crushed beyond recognition by the shear weight of an out-of-control articulated lorry, as it careered off course on the slippery and foggy motorway. She had been spared, but her tear-stained face had not smiled since.

The funeral of the North family had been a very somber affair and it was also where Alicia had been first introduced to her enigmatic Aunt. She looked a lot like a younger version of her own mother. If Alicia had not been so completely distressed, she may have been intrigued by the strong family resemblance; the high cheekbone with deep-set eyes; the porcelain white skin, and the contrasting straight black hair. They could easily pass off as sisters. Her Aunt Candice was certainly an elegant and very beautiful woman. As her only surviving relative, why had they never met before? Alicia was not sure.

Alicia had sat in the front seat of the small car next to her Aunt, silent for most of the journey. Now as they neared their destination, she pressed her face against the cold door window staring out into the distance. The road bridge over the river had been recently repaired, so getting across was not a problem. As they left the main road, the forest seemed to close in all around them. Windy Forest was true to its name. All around them now, the tall dark trees danced with their invisible host, as the wind seemed to be excited by the new arrival.

And then, it was just a short distance, until they finally arrived at her Aunt’s pretty ivory-covered cottage, the last of the sunlight dropped down behind the tall dark trees signalling the end to a very long day and maybe the start of something very different.

Her Aunt Candice helped her collect up her few possessions and brought her into the cottage. Her first night in the unfamiliar setting was such a change for the city girl. After a lifetime of living in the constant lights of the city, she could not believe how many stars there were. She looked up in awe at the sparkling heavens. The familiar and constant hum of motorway traffic was replaced by the rustling of the leaves as the powerful branches of the great trees bowed in the strong breeze.

That night, she was greeted by a howling wind that shook the creaky old rafters of the building. Strange noises seemed to surround her. Her Aunt had made a bed for her in her library; that was to become her bedroom from this day forth. It smelt strange and funky. The aroma of antiques, of old leather-bound books, and of other strange rural smells that she was not used to.

Armed with only her small hand touch, she lay in bed and scanned the darkened room. The clock ticked conspicuously on the mantelpiece. Alicia stopped to read the small plaque on the wall above the unused library fireplace. It read …

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-legged beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

It was a traditional Scottish prayer. She had read it somewhere else before, but could not recall where. As the house creaked and groaned in the darkness, Alicia prayed to Jesus, to Mother Mary, and to the Lord Almighty God to take care of her mother and father; to welcome them and her siblings to the gates of heaven, so that they may look down upon her. She needed their blessing and their spiritual guidance at this difficult time of her life.

As she cast the beam of light around the cottage library, Alicia noticed the aged books that filled the bookcases; dusty dull grey, the blackened ribbed spines of leather volumes of strangeness; of Latin titles, faded or peeling gold leaf. Alicia looked upon the strange paintings that hung around the gloomy room. Framed most majestically, these old oils were all grim replicas of old masters; darkly and religiously inspired Renaissance paintings depicting the infernal struggle between good and evil; angels and demons.

Hell seemed to have been a popular subject back in the day, and these strange archaic portrayals of demons in hell tended to follow forms suggested by scripture and folklore. Among the medieval bestiary were bat-winged creatures (early Christians knew them as the ‘birds of the Devil’ because of their association with the howling forest night). Some of the underworld demons were toad-like creatures, others were pig-like, unclean symbols of lust, greed, and gluttony. Some of these demonic creatures had human feet and hands but animal faces and ears; other demons had hideous bodies, lizard skin, apelike heads, and paws.

Most likely the purpose of this strange religious painting was to frighten sinners with threats of torment and to show how, as they shifted shapes chaotically, demons were the twisted, ugly distortions of what angelic or human nature ought to be.

Alicia did not like these horrid things that hung around her as she tried to sleep. Their eyes seemed to glow in the dark and follow her. She felt her heart rate elevate, and could feel the blood in her ears. They would surely give her nightmares! Oh, good Lord deliver us. Alicia lay down, closed her eyes tightly, clutched her gold crucifix that hung around her neck, and tried to imagine her family, friends, school, and the life she had left behind. She began to cry softly to herself.


The morning light poured through the netted curtains. Morning at arrived at Windy Forest. She felt safe in the light again. The warmth and promise of the new day seemed to change her mood. Alicia got up and walked into the nook of a bathroom. She brushed her teeth and brushed her hair as she made ready to venture out into the cottage.

Her Aunt Candice was already up and outside on the small veranda. The cottage was so rustic in the morning light. Could she get to like this place? She could smell the richness of the forest beyond carried in through the open door. Day or night, Windy Forest was never still. Alicia stood at the small doorway. From where she stood, she could see her Aunt Candice’s long flowing black hair blowing across her pretty face. Alicia felt a harsh pierce to her heart; she reminded Alicia of her deceased mother. She missed her mother so much.

Her Aunt Candice spoke without turning.

“Good morning Alicia.”

“Good morning Auntie Candice,” she replied.

“Candice. Just Candice, please … I hate the word ‘Auntie’ … it makes me sound so mmmm … middle-aged!”

“… good morning … Candice,” affirmed Alicia.

She was unsure of how to read her Aunt’s changing moods. She remembered her mother had said once that her younger sister could be so pleasant one moment and then a total bitch the next. Whether it was true or not, Alicia did not want to test it. They had not got along as far as she could remember and it was probably why her Aunt had never been involved with her until after her parent’s death. There was so much that she did not know or understand. Now with her mother gone. Everything had changed.

Alicia planned to reserve any judgment and to maintain a healthy distance, not rush into things, and take things a day at a time; that way she would not get her expectations up. After all, she was actually glad that she had family to turn to; even though it all seemed very different from what she was used to.

“I trust you slept well?” asked her Aunt as she looked outwards into the trees.

“Well, yes … it still feels a little new … not quite used to the countryside yet.”

Alicia picked her words carefully, not wanting to offend her Aunt’s reluctant hospitality.

“No nightmares then?”

Alicia reflected on the peculiarity of her night. Had she dreamt of anything? She tried to remember. Yes, there was something; something strange and bizarre. The wetness of sweat on her brow. It had been a nervous sweat; caused by some unsettling in the early hours. Those evil eyes had been watching her. Those villainous painted demons; heinous dragons, nefarious toads and bat-like creatures, ugly lizards and vile apes; all shockingly naked and skeletal. The large clock on the mantelpiece ticked so loudly, announcing that it was only 3:00 a.m. in the morning. The wind outside had whistled wildly as if it had been trying to awaken her from any resemblance of slumber.

“No bad dreams then, I said?”

Alicia heard her Aunt’s words and they triggered a fragment of an unsettling glimpse of something even more unpleasant; something gross and unmentionable; those demon eyes staring at her as she lay there; a horrid creepy feeling that seemed to reach out and touch her with demonically cold fingers. Peeling back the bed clothing until she lay on her back in just her cotton nightgown. She remembered that she had been shaking. Nervous. Scared. Afraid of what would happen next. They were undressing her with their eyes. Willing her to lift the hem of her nightgown higher up her sweating thighs. They wanted her to be naked before them; they had wanted her to touch herself.

“Did you hear me? Alicia?”

Consciousness returned. Alicia blushed beetroot red at the thought of her unexpected arousal. The shame. Alicia looked at her Aunt Candice who for the first time was now staring directly at her. Those beautiful and piercing deep-set eyes. She shook herself out of this unsettling daydream.

“No … No nightmares … I mean. It’s just getting used to being in a new place.”


The day blurred completely out. There was no television, no computers, no phones in Windy Forest. It seemed to be a place lost in time, where its townsfolk lived as if it were back in the dark ages.

Her Aunt Candice had given her a leather-bound journal, as well as chosen some clothes and jewelry for Alicia from her own wardrobe. They were strange black garments that Alicia would not usually wear in a fit. But her Aunt seemed adamant about a change of dress code from her urban style of jeans and tees. Alicia wanted to make it work with her Aunt. She was sure that she had good intentions and she would try this, at least for a while. Her Aunt Candice was all she had in the world. Mum and Dad were no longer here. As much as that hurt to think about, she had to get used to that. She realized that with great sorrow.

Her Aunt had taken off the small gold crucifix that her mother had given her and replaced it with a rather archaic-looking necklace with an ironic kind of inverted silver star. It hung heavily around her neckline. Her Aunt Candice had told her that it would help, should she ever feel afraid of the dark, or unsettled, or have nightmares. Alicia was grateful and wore it proudly.

They had both eaten dinner in candlelight. It had been a warming hearty soup with an unfamiliar flavor by the raging fireplace. Her Aunt Candice had taken the time to gently brush her hair in front of the dressing mirror. It had felt good. The long strokes of the hairbrush had been so pleasant, almost sensual. Alicia purred like a cat. She had washed her face and brushed her teeth before getting into bed.

She had changed into one of her garments given to her by her Aunt Candice. This was a silky soft nightgown that was very flattering to Alicia’s lithe physique. It was rather daring with only thin bootlace straps that showed off her clavicles and slender collar bones. It was rather short too, ending just above her mid-thighs.

As she admired herself in the full-length mirror, she could hear her mother’s voice saying something about it being far too mature for her age. But Alicia liked it and the way it made her feel. She had undressed and redressed quickly as there was something about being naked in the library, in front of those horrid old creepy paintings that seemed to give her a weird voyeuristic feeling. She told herself that she was being stupid about it all. Her overactive imagination. After all, they were just old dusty paintings; but that did stop the hairs on the back of the neck from standing to attention.

She went to say good night to her Aunt Candice, who seemed very pleased to see her dressed in her silky gown. She found her Aunt by the fireplace reading an old-looking book which she closed seeing her niece close by. Alicia glanced at its heavily decorated cover that seemed to echo the same archaic language of the evil paintings.

She could not help but be drawn to its sculptured illustrated cover, with an ornate border surrounding an image of a goat-head with horns and talons holding an inverted star from which small bat-like creatures hung. It made Alicia wonder what it was that she had been reading. Did she not want her niece to see? Alicia laughed at herself for being paranoid! Stupid thoughts!

“What do you think Candice?” She asked swishing the fragile fabric back and forth.

“You look positively adorable,” purred her leering Aunt.

Her Aunt Candice asked her to turn around like she was a model on the catwalk. Alicia did as she was told. Her Aunt clapped her hands with absolute delight. For some unexplainable reason, her little parade made Alicia feel inappropriately alluring. Her Aunt told Alicia to always wear the necklace on the outside at night, and concealed during the day. It was magic to protect her.

She asked her Aunt what the inverted star meant and Candice explained that it was not a star but a pentagram; that it was a sign of the ‘absorption of knowledge’; that it was sometimes called the ‘Sigil of Baphomet’. It was a very powerful symbol of her faith. Her Aunt showed her that she also wore one. Her Aunt had the face of a goat within the inverted pentagram. She said it was called ‘the Goat of Mendes’ and that it was from a time before Christianity; that the magic came from nature.

“You remind me so much of myself. We could be mistaken as sisters,” said her Aunt caressing her niece’s long dark hair.

It was true. They looked like sisters of a close age.

Alicia thanked her Aunt Candice for the generous gifts and was about to go to bed when her Aunt asked her for a kiss. She had never kissed her Aunt before and there was an awkward moment of hesitation. Her attractive Aunt grinned with a broad smile of perfect teeth. It was almost as if she was enjoying Alicia’s feeling of embarrassment. Her Aunt stood up from her chair by the fireplace. Her delicate small hands held Alicia by the waist as she kissed Alicia lightly on the lips. Alicia froze.

“There,” she said, “See. I don’t bite.”

She released her niece from the gentle embrace and turned back to sit down with her strange embossed book.

Alicia felt herself blush, red as a beetroot. She unconsciously licked her lips and could taste her Aunt Candice on them. Nothing was unpleasant, just a little awkward and unnatural. They exchanged brief ‘goodnights’ and she hurried back to the old musky library. Alicia closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. She held her new necklace between her fingers and she immediately felt calmer.

Her breathing was rather erratic. She took a long, slow breath. She caught a glimpse of herself in the tall dressing mirror. There was something about the fabric choice. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her under-developed chest heaved beneath the arousing garment and her nipples were hard and clearly visible through the sheer material. She hoped her Aunt had not noticed. How embarrassing …

She glanced nervously upwards at the wall full of strange archaic paintings. They are just paintings, she told herself as she knelt by the bed to say the Lord’s Prayer, but as she recited rhythmically the old prayer, she felt the wind pick up outside. She felt afraid of something that she could not see.

Invisible wickedness carried by the howling gusts. Whispers echoed in the old eaves as the cottage creaked and moaned. It was all far from rational. She held her necklace and again the nervousness seemed to slip away. Comfortable. Maybe her weird Aunt was right about the power of this necklace? Maybe there was some old magic in it?



Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The old clock seemed to call out to her. The night seemed to call out to her. Her Aunt Candice’s words echoed in her dreamy awareness.

“No nightmares then?”

Her Aunt seemed to almost expect it of her; almost willing it upon her.

“Oh my dear, why do you look positively adorable…”

Alicia was parading herself before her strangely attractive young Aunt, who was dressed identically to her. Like mirrors of each other. She felt a strong impulse to perform for her; to do a dance of gratitude; but in an oddly sensuous way.

“You remind me so much of myself …”

Yes, they both looked like twins, almost identical in every way. Alicia’s eye caught the glint of her Aunt’s necklace as they stood only inches apart.

“The Goat of Mendes … the Sigil of Baphomet … it is a sign of the ‘absorption of knowledge’ … look we wear the same necklaces …”

Alicia looked down at her pentagram. It had transformed. It was the same as her Aunt’s with the evil-looking goat’s head at the center of its iconography.

She did not hear herself ask the question, but she instinctive knew she had. Her Aunt Candice chuckled, almost childishly.

“No my love, it’s not to warn off evil … quite the opposite … it’s to attract it, my dear …”

How could that be? There seemed to be no fear, as Alicia’s head was swimming in a bizarre fascination.

“Hold it in your fingers … kiss the Baphomet … that’s it, feel the absorption of knowledge … of carnal knowledge … mmmmm … yes … look at our nipples my dear … look … they both look so hard and aroused …”

Her Aunt purred as her fingers made small graceful circles on the surface of the delicate fabric of their matching nightgowns. She felt her Aunt’s hands upon her narrow waist, pulling the both of them closer together. She could feel the hard points of her Aunt’s nipples crush against her. Alicia felt so incredibly horny. The hemline of their short nightgowns no longer separated their naked genitals as her Aunt’s thigh pressed directly against her moist vagina and hers did the same to her Aunt. Their mutual sexual arousal was obvious.

“Kiss me, Alicia. I don’t bite … well not right away,” hissed her Aunt.

Her Aunt Candice planted her mouth over Alicia’s. She was pressing against her lips with increasing pressure, her Aunt’s wet tongue parting her parched lips and beginning to invade her reluctant mouth.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Alicia’s eyes sprung wide open as her Aunt’s vampiric kiss suddenly awoke her with an alarming shock!

“Aaarrghhhhhhhhh …” she groaned out loud.

Alicia’s breathing was highly elevated as if something heavy and constricting had been crushing against her chest cavity.

It was 3:00 a.m. again.

Her body was completely drenched in her own perspiration. She pushed back the light bedcovers. The wind howled and the library felt suddenly alive with eyes. Alicia had never felt so horny. Her genitals were on fire. Her left hand clasped the clammy flesh of her breast through the fabric of her nightgown; her right hand reached beneath the hem lifting it to expose her mons.


There seemed to be a collective hiss of approval. The electric eyes willed her; as if the painted demons urged her for more. Alicia no longer felt any atavism in the eerie dark room as she got up from the moist bedcloths; she pulled her damp nightgown over her head and displayed herself fully; genuinely unafraid and wildly aroused by it all. ‘Look at me. Look at me…’ She said without a word as she began to touch herself between the legs.


She heard the collective hiss again as she kissed her Satanic necklace and began to finger-fucked herself. Her eyes stared daringly back at the dark paintings that surrounded her. No longer did they depict the infernal struggle between good and evil. All she could see was evil upon evil. The naked skeletal demons, the bats, the pigs, the toads, and the goats, all looked highly excited with hands and talons clapped around their erect penises that seemed to drip with evil fluids, as they urged Alicia to join them in their masturbatory pleasures. And she did. Her body convulsed in the delightfully slow but persistent build-up toward orgasmic release.


She heard the dark prayers of the wicked ones in the time-honored tradition of corruptive pleasuring; the sharing of carnality with their new appendices. They all willed Alicia’s fingers to produce the desired effect. She groaned without sound, grinding against her miscreant hand that was bent on bringing her to the brink of depraved animation, as she performed for her painted audience. And then it happened. Like a powerful wave of perverted euphoria that swept over her and through her. She collapsed upon the bed and immediately fell into a comatose sleep.


Alicia was roused by a soft knock on the library door.

“Are you awake Alicia?”

It was her Aunt Candice.

Alicia looked over at the clock. It was almost 11:30 a.m. She had seriously overslept. Then she realized that she was still lying on the top of her bed completely naked. Where was her nightgown? How did she manage to end up uncovers on the bed and be completely nude? Everything felt a little hazy. She did not have time to figure it out. She quickly jumped up and pulled the top blanket from her bedding. She made a dash to the ensuite bathroom, just in case her Aunt walked in.

“I’m just in the bathroom, Candice,” she called out.

“I made us a fruit brunch out on the veranda,” replied her Aunt.

“Thank you … I … I will be there in just a minute.”

Emerging from the library, she was relieved to find her Aunt Candice had already stepped outside. It gave her a moment of reprieve and composure. Alicia nervously pulled her dressing gown around her shoulders. Outside, she sat at the table opposite her Aunt, whose eyes had followed her from the moment she had walked through the back door of the cottage onto the intimate little veranda under the ivory-covered eaves. The smell of nature was abundant. Windy Forest was quite a beautiful and peaceful place. The fruit brunch looked delicious, with wild berries and other assorted things that she did not recognize.

“Well, here she is … good morning … or should I say … good afternoon?” Said her Aunt.

“Sorry, Candice. I must have over-slept … maybe my body is catching up for all the sleep I have lost since the funeral,” she answered in an effort to explain herself with some resemblance of sincerity.

Alicia bit into a crisp green apple. It was tart but deliciously fresh and wet to her mouth. She watched her Aunt eat some blood-red berries, the juices tricked from the side of her mouth. Without thinking, Alicia’s finger touched her Aunt’s face retrieving the little red fluid and putting her finger into her mouth. Sweet. Her Aunt smiled and touched Alicia’s bare arm affectionately … more like a lover than family. They both continued to eat until her Aunt broke the silence.

“Last night, I thought I heard you cry out?” probed her Aunt.

She placed her hand over Alicia’s. Her hands were cold and clammy, but Alicia did not pull away. Her Aunt caressed her fingers as she spoke. Alicia’s thoughts slipped back to her weird nocturnal misadventure … ‘of carnal knowledge …’ Her chest suddenly heaved, ‘Yes … look at our nipples my dear … they both look so hard and so aroused’ … She subconsciously licked her lips and grasped her pentagram tighter.

“I see,” said her Aunt almost triumphantly. She smiled devilishly and firmly squeezed Alicia’s hand. “I mean … I see you must have drawn upon the magic of the Baphomet?”

Alicia pulled her hand away and stood up.

“I thought I might take a walk down to the old chapel.”

The idea of a quiet walk sounded appealing. The chapel looked so picturesque.

“Yes … a good idea. Maybe the fresh air will do you good. Get used to Windy Forest. Just be aware that the church is very formal and the priest very old … he isn’t used to strangers.”

Her Aunt Candice played with her bewitched necklace and had the expression of mischief. Candice could be so creepy. Was her Aunt some kind of a secret pervert? Surely not? But still, she was not sure if this unsettling feeling that filled her conscious thoughts was completely unfounded. There is nothing her Aunt had actually done or said. It seemed that her dreams had created this perplexing shadow that seemed to be cast over everything and anything to do with living in Windy Forest.

Maybe the walk down to the old chapel in the fresh air would not only clear her mind but rid her of this perpetually gnawing negative energy that seemed to infect her mind with a salacious undertone towards anything and everything she encountered in her new life with Aunt Candice. She refused to believe that this was nothing but her distraught mind working overtime, making something out of nothing. All she really wanted now was peace of mind; a new start; and to re-find the joy in her step.


The brightness of the midday sun occasionally pierced through the tree-lined walk down to the old chapel. The ‘spotlight effects’ of the light through the heavy foliage gave a surreal feeling to the early afternoon.

Alicia instinctively followed the flint stone wall and thorny hedges down the vertiginous hill, until she finally arrived at the chapel graveyard that enveloped the gothic architecture in its somber moodiness. As she reached the arched entry the sky had become darker and capricious. Alicia looked upwards at the majestic old spire that reached up to pierce the blackish-cloudy sky.

Alicia entered the quiet small chapel. Inside the entire interior was lit only by the hundreds of scattered candles. It was reassuringly tranquil and mellifluous. Alicia sat in the last row of the old wooden pews and watched a couple of women kneeling at the altar. The priest looked up and smiled in recognition of someone at the rear of the chapel. Alicia looked around. She was the only one there. The two women got up and walked solemnly down the central walkway. They both looked at Alicia and dropped their gaze. Alicia felt rather lonely and uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to go? She stood up to leave.

“Wait,” said the old priest.

Alicia did not move as he approached her.

“Concupitio mala. Daemona secteris. Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias,” muttered the priest as he took her small hands in his.

Alicia did not understand the priest but remained silent. Maybe he was blessing her or something?

“The things that must not be spoken of, have been done. The high mass will proceed and the sacrifice made.”

Alicia understood simple English but did not understand what it all meant. It all sounded like something from a Shakespearean play. She wanted to ask him what the hell he was talking about but thought better of it. Then it dawned on her that maybe the priest had mistaken her for her Aunt Candice. They looked alike. They even dressed alike. Oh dear. He kissed her palm and abruptly left her alone.


Alicia had wanted to say something to her Aunt Candice about the strange encounter at the church but felt very foolish. Why hadn’t she just said to the priest that she was not Candice, that she was her niece? How stupid was that? What would her Aunt think of her not to speak up? Was she mute? No. Alicia thought about the things he had said that she had not understood. Not so much the strange Latin words, but the stuff about things not to be spoken, about the high mass and the sacrifice? Maybe it had to do with some religious holiday, like the Passover or Lent?

When it came time to say goodnight, she found her Aunt Candice sitting by the roaring fireplace once again. She was wearing a delicate nightgown that matched the one she had given to Alicia. Her Aunt seemed distracted; as if she was in deep thought and contemplation, as she studied something from the open pages of her oversized leather-bound book.

Again, her Aunt conspicuously closed her book and looked up without a word. Alicia kissed her on the lips without waiting to be told. She pressed lightly against her Aunt’s lips. Her mind raced with visions of the sensualness of the Sapphic kiss she remembered from her wet dream of the night previous. It had been a long and wet French kiss of intertwined tongues; so hot and passionate; as they ground their burning hot vaginas together, frotting eagerly against each other. The passion made Alicia’s heart race involuntarily.

Her Aunt smiled and watched her niece blush.

“Sweet dreams,” she said as if she knew more than she possibly could.

Alicia turned without another word and headed to the library.


The night passed very slowly. Finally, it was midnight and the wind howled incessantly outside the isolated cottage.

Then it was one o’clock.

… Then two.

… Then Three.

Alicia got out of bed. She felt an odd awakening as if it was time to get up. The darkness outside contradicted the feeling. She opened the door and peeked out of the library expecting to see only the dying embers of the fire in the empty living room beyond. With the door ajar, she could see that this was not the case. Instead, the fire burned even brighter. It illuminated the silhouette of a young girl about twenty feet away. Her Aunt Candice?

The girl was kneeling, completely naked, except for a glimmer of her strange goat-head necklace that hung heavily against her small boyish flat chest with only the slightest hint of womanly development and sharp points of aroused nipples. Was she reading in the firelight? Or praying? Or both? Alicia covered her mouth and gasped into her hand as she watched the girl brazenly touching herself between her open thighs; praying and masturbating over the old leather-bound book. Three fingers pushed up to the third knuckle into her hairless vagina. The girl groaned softly at first, but seemed to increase in volume with the escalation of her own private ecstasy; apparently completely unaware of her reluctant voyeur.

Alicia stepped back slowly and quietly closed the door. She was completely shocked at what she had seen; and heard. Surely she was mistaken. She found it hard to catch her breath. She was almost hyperventilating. After a moment, she composed herself. She touched her pentagram.

The painted demons seemed to stare even harder at her.


They hissed as her shaking hand took hold of the doorknob once again. She steadied herself. Took a deep breath and re-opened the door ever so slightly. Her eyes strained towards the view of the fireplace; whilst remaining far enough back in the library not to be illuminated by any of the ambient firelight. To see without being seen.

Alicia could clearly make out the reddish flames of the fire as they licked the naked form still hunched over the old book; from the side-on perspective, Alicia observed the girl’s skinny fingers piston-ed in and out as her hips thrust back and forth upon them; faster and faster until it was as if she was erotically dancing to the musical melee of the howling wind and the crackling of the fire beyond.

Alicia stared unblinkingly. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it wanted to escape from beneath her ribs. Subconsciously Alicia’s fingers brushed against her own vulva. She trembled and was surprised to find herself extremely wet and excited between the legs. Without a second thought, she sank her middle finger inside herself. Oh, fuck yer. It felt strange but very exciting as her eyes drank in the sight of the girl’s solo masturbation ritual.

One finger became two. Two became three. Soon she was masturbating in unison with her pornographic peepshow. The girl’s body began to convulse in masturbatory bliss giving herself over to unknown dark pleasures. This triggered Alicia’s orgasmic feelings and as they too began to reach their own crescendo, the girl that looked like her. She turned towards the library door, facing directly at where Alicia stood shaking.

She brought her soaking fingers to her mouth and sucked the juices from them; finger by finger; and resumed her frigging again unabated. Her lips seemed to form a single word as the lewd fingers of her right hand stabbed at her hairless vagina, while the fingers of her left hand stroked her erect clitoris. Her eyes seemed to focus in the direction of the library. As she muttered a single word over and over; it felt as if she could see right through the door; as her lustful dance seemed to reach yet another incredible crescendo; the word became more distinct, like a guttural whisper or cry …

“Alicia … Alicia … Alicia …”



With her Aunt down at the village store, Alicia took advantage of the immediate situation. She carefully looked around for her Aunt Candice’s big old book. What was it that she did not want her to see? What was so fucking secret? Mystery burned inside Alicia like the clues to an unsolved crime. It piqued her curiosity.

She laughed at herself for thinking so wildly. It was probably nothing important. An old photo album, lover letters, an encyclopedia? Her Aunt was entitled to her own privacy. She had no right to interfere with her stuff. Screw that! She vividly recalled her dream of Candice masturbating in the open firelight, hovering over the old publication as she finger-fucked herself into immoral bliss. There was something sordid about it. Something that she was protecting. The thought made Alicia instantly damp between the legs. She found herself panting out of breath with just these sinful thoughts. Removing her underwear from beneath her dress, gave her another instant thrill.

She looked around the living room without any luck and then tried the closed door to her Aunt’s room. It opened with a slight squeak that gave Alicia a little fright. Why was she so jumpy? She laughed at herself again. As she stepped over the threshold she felt a slight cold shiver. It felt that she was doing something that she should know better not to do; like the sin of knowingly sinning.

She realized that this was the first time she had actually stepped into this room. It smelt like her Aunt Candice. She really liked the smell. Yes, her Aunt smelt delicious and this gave rise to some strange feelings.

She quickly looked around her Aunt’s cluttered little bedroom. There were piles of desultory things everywhere. As she went, she could not help herself but touch her Aunt Candice’s most personal of things; all the time, she continued to play with herself, fingering her juicy whorish little cunt, with a new excitement she had never imagined she could feel until now. It was so compulsive and so irresistible. She felt aberrant and strange, even unto herself. It was as if she was possessed by this compelling desire to be sexually audacious.

She opened the clothes basket and picked up a pair of her Aunt’s soiled underwear. Her heart beat harder. She was acting really perversely and Alicia kind of knew it. She brought the dirty garment close to her nose and breathed in the smell of her Aunt’s wet crutch. Oh yes. So delicious. She licked tentatively at the soiled patch on the inside of the crutch. Another dirty little thrill. Oh FUCK. What if her Aunt caught her now; caught her in her room; in the act of sniffing and licking her dirty underwear? Alicia’s little heart raced faster and faster, only exciting her even more. The thrill of getting caught seemed only to amplify her deviant sinfulness.

She moved her Aunt’s scarf and there it was. Right in front of her. The old leather-bound book lay beneath the nightstand next to her Aunt Candice’s unmade bed. At first glance, it looked like nothing. Just another big old book. Nothing different to any of the others in the library where she slept. But as she got a closer look, she could see that it was covered in a grotesqueness that rivaled the demonic paintings that had affected her so profoundly.

She ran her hand over the skin-like covering that was deeply embossed with Gothic artistry. The face of the horned goat stood out most prominently. Beneath the devil-goat-head hung the Sigil of the Baphomet (or something that resembled it). There were other strange, ugly, and menacing creatures depicted in the grand design that seemed to say: ‘beware’ and ‘danger’. The appreciation formed in her mind, that this was no ordinary thing. It contained clues to what was unspoken; what was to be sacrificed.

Alicia picked up the heavy book and got a prickly sensation in her fingers and seemed to then extend up her forearms; humming or vibrating angrily against her palm. She dropped it on the bedclothes. What was that? She was being foolish. Magic, witches, spells. All Walt Disney stuff! Bullshit. Fucking Bullshit! She picked up the book and tried to open the cover, but the pages felt like they were stuck together; glued together like a solid shape. It would not be open to just anyone. Words formed in her head, words that she had heard spoken only once before. They were the words spoken by that old wrinkled priest. She said them out loud, surprised in her own perfect recall …

“Concupitio mala. Daemona secteris. Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias.”

The dark bible sprang open in her unclean hands. A sensation, like small electric shocks, passed through her fingertips and into her arms. The sensation of tingling did not stop there. In fact, it had intensified; not in just her fingers or arms, but throughout her entire body, concentrating in the pit of her belly. Erogenous ripples that traveled downwards with a strange trembling warmth that quickly spread across her groin, making her tight little vagina feel itchy, wet, and extremely horny. She looked at the open page and gasped out loud.

Concupitio mala.

There inked across the page, as if by the Devil himself, like a medieval painting was an obscene illustration of a young naked girl bound tightly by her raw ankles and bruised wrists, stretched painfully between two vertical poles. Around the poor girl danced the naked painted demons with horns and bat-like wings. Their faces were contorted in evil lust and their lustful penises were disgustingly erect and disproportionately long and large. The bound girl’s narrow pouting pussy was being stretched around the girth of a long wooden pole shaped just like a phallus, penetrating her as she grimaced in what looked like it would be complete agony.

The image was initially shocking, horrible, and sickly; but that did not seem to stop Alicia feeling implicitly excited by what she saw. Maybe it was not so much what she saw, but what she felt. It was as if she could feel it was so real, as if she was there herself, witnessing these profane acts. She looked upon the suffering of the young naked girl as a positive thing, as if she willed her suffering; willed it to penetrate her further still; to pierce her higher and higher; fill her guts; to completely impale her. Oh YES, YES! It was the Satanic sacrifice. She was the sacrificial one. Alicia could feel the wickedness of her orgasm building inside herself without even touching herself. Her juices flowed freely down the inside of her legs as the vision of impalement; of human sacrifice to the darkest of gods.

She excitedly turned to the next page.

Daemona secteris.

The next image was just as perverse. A similar female victim was not penetrated by wooden phalluses but by the penises of the demons themselves. Their unnatural length and girth made Alicia’s cunt ripple with waves of sexual energy. The black-skinned monkey; the twisted serpent; and the great horned goat. All naked, skeletal, and sexually aroused. All filling her holes in an effort to fuck her to death. The demon’s evil seed was visibly pouring and overflowing from her mouth, her vagina; and especially her anus. The young girl was in a living hell, literally torn apart and beside herself in extreme pain and suffering. But still, all Alicia could feel was the onslaught of highly addictive and demented sexual pleasure.

She turned a third page.

Crimine frangaris.

This next image was even more vile and blasphemous. The dancing demons celebrated their dark offering, as they bit down on the flesh of newborns. Some were in the process of fucking their tiny bodies upon their impossibly long sexual organs skewering them mouth to anus. There were naked female demons with pendulous breasts and gaping cunt holes. They seemed fixated on smothering the infants as they rode upon their tiny upturned faces. Their vaginas looked more like animal mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth, as they suffocated the children and rutted in demonic bliss before staking them or eating them alive.

These were the images of infernal hell! A boiling pot of naked fornicating bodies engaged in every sinful act imaginable; while others perished at the whim of the daemonia through extreme sexual tortures including penis decapitation and insertion rape with their deviled spiked and claw-like phalluses. At the apex of the third evil drawing was the boy child with a halo around his head. A holy virgin. The boy, like all the others, was naked whilst being sodomized by the high priest of Satan; his cock fully thrust up inside the boy’s guts and emerged from the boy’s twisted and open mouth as the high priest’s semen sprayed upwards like a fountain.

Alicia’s vagina opened and contracted, opened again and contracted. Spasms of pleasure engulfed her. From the mouth of her vagina, all the way up into her womb she quivered in her first demonic orgasm.

“Aaaghhhhhhhhhhh!” she groaned.

It was as if she had been penetrated by an invisible lover that made her squirm in complete orgasmic glee. Alicia’s sex juices pissed down the inside of her legs, before she finally doubled over, no longer able to stand and cope with sheer pleasure overload.

The evil bible fell shut with a loud snap!


After her secret ordeal with her Aunt’s dark bible, Alicia felt physically, mentally, and spiritually drained. A strange lathery had overcome her. She weakly apologized to her Aunt for leaving her evening meal half-eaten and excused herself. Alicia explained that she was not feeling her best and just wanted to get an early night. Her Aunt asked if she needed any medicinal potions but Alicia had declined, saying that it was probably nothing, just the excitement of her new surroundings. Her Aunt eyed her suspiciously, but Alicia was too tired to care.

That evening a great storm seemed to be brewing on the horizon at Windy Forest. The sky was black-blue with heavy thunderous clouds and as the rain began to fall, the wind became even more tempestuous than usual. Spikes of lightning lit up the darkness. The entire cottage creaked as the storm blew overhead.

Alicia fought to keep her eyes open. She lay on her bed without even changing into her nightdress. The stormy winds howled loudly and the rain lashed against the panes of glass. Even with all the commotion, within seconds of putting her head down upon her feathered pillow, Alicia was out for the count. Even when there was a knock on her door, Alicia never stirred. She never heard or saw her Aunt steal into her bedroom.

Tick. Tock. Tock. Tock.

Alicia began to drift deeper into a vivid dreamscape. She saw a possession of naked women, some old and some very young. They were the women of Windy Forest. She knew this because she just knew. The wind was howling in her dream, as much as it had been doing before she fell asleep. The women were witches and their journey led them deep into the enchanted forest. They walked single file until they happened upon a tree that they all knew as the ‘Hanging Tree’.

Alicia saw this ancient tree, towering up, its dark deathly sparse branches almost perpendicular, like the arms of a crucifix, and around its base, protrusions that grew vertically upwards from its nobbled roots seemed to take on a phallic appearance, in length and girth. And there the women, the witches of Windy Forest, presented to the Hanging Tree a gift of a young boy. The boy was no older than ten years. The boy was secured to the branches by arms and legs. He was stripped of clothing and they positioned him as such that a large phallic knob of the tree pressed upwards against his rectum. And there they hung him for all to gloat.

And then they began their bacchanalia-style pagan ritual, The Hanging Tree moved in the violent wind with a life of its own. The young boy that they had tied to the cross-look branch of the Hanging Tree began to scream in agony. Unable to support his own weight any longer, the young boy sank downwards so that the woody protrusion began to penetrate his posterior. As gravity impaled him upon it, the woody phallus violated his virgin rectum.

The witches grow wild with their perverse expectations and with their hands raised in some kind of ritualistic prayers to the evil forest spirits; each began to use one of the many dildo-like protrusions from the Hanging Tree; each, eagerly impaling themselves upon them, taking their demented pleasure upon the smooth wooden knobs of the phallic tree.

Tick. Tock. Tock. Tock.

Alicia awake with a little gasp. The darkness and howling wind. It took a few moments for her to adjust to her surroundings. She touched her satanic necklace. Its power seemed to intensify the strangeness of her awakening desires. She quickly stripped naked and lay back down across her bedding.


They all hissed. She heard them and immediately began to masturbate herself as she imagined she was one of the witches around the Hanging Tree. She thought back over the deviant images of her Aunt’s perverted bible. Her Aunt was definitely some kind of sexual pervert. A witch? A perverted Wicca? She contemplated what that could mean to her and her being there in Windy Forest. Her fingers played with her clitoris and sparks ignited as she stroked it to a throbbing erection. She imagined the baleful images of wanton lust and demonic bliss that she had witnessed across the cum-stained parchment pages of the old book. Vividly, she recalled the sexual torture and demented pleasuring of the ugly demons as they molested, raped, and tortured innocent young children. The dream boy impaled on the wooden phallus of the Hanging Tree.


They liked her nasty thoughts and desires. She mangled her tiny breasts and press three fingers into her needy little cunt. She was so damn wet. Soaking. Her young and impressionable mind seemed to be flooded with aberrant thoughts. The dark bible. The Hanging Tree. It was more than she could take.

“Ohhhhhh …” she groaned out loud.

“CUMMMMMMMMMM … YES … CUMMMMMMMM … YES!” they all hissed as she bucked wildly.



It had been a quiet morning. Her Aunt had kept mostly to herself, disappearing into her own bedroom. When she immersed she announced that there were some urgent errands that she had to attend to. Alicia’s heart immediately beat faster in anticipation. The opportunity to revisit the dark bible was just too great.

Alicia waited painful for her Aunt Candice to finally leave and run her errands. It seemed to take forever and her cunt rippled with the recent memories of her own unsavouriness. Then, the moment she left the cottage, Alicia tried the door to her Aunt’s bedroom. It was unlocked. Oh yes, sweet Satan, she thought triumphantly.

She was already soaking wet between the legs. There was the now familiar tingling like the first time she had ventured into her Aunt’s private domain. As she opened the door to her Aunt’s bedroom her young bright eyes scanned the room looking for the dark bible. The room itself smelt stronger than it had done before. The room smelt of her Aunt’s body and her Aunt’s sexuality. Her heart beat faster. Then she saw it in plain view. It was there on the bedside table as it had been before. But then, a strange appurtenance laying across the unmade bed intercepted her line of sight. As if from her vivid witch’s dream; it reminded her immediately of the wicked woody knobs of the Hanging Tree shaped like erect penises.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. She picked up the obscene object and inspected it closely. It had a penis-head at either end. Oh my fucking god! It had been recently been used and was still moist from vaginal secretions; her Aunt’s juices glistened on the smooth carved length. She sniffed it and then tentatively licked it. She got a sharp spasm in her cunt. She thought of the witches masturbating themselves around the Hanging Tree as they danced around the naked young boy and offered him to the devil. She rubbed it against her bald cunt lips. It felt so wicked.

She moved around the bed and retrieved the dark bible. Its pages were sealed as before, but her fingers felt the familiar tingling sensation. She knew what to do and her cunt began to quake.

“Concupitio mala. Daemona secteris. Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias,” she recited.

The heavy book sprung open with enmity and to Alicia’s surprise, the image that met her intense stare was that of the Hanging Tree. Her dream was there; illustrated in all its bizarre perversion. It was exactly as she had envisioned in her dream. The naked witches of all ages, some very young, some very older, some danced in exhalation with arms aloft but most were fervently masturbating upon the tree’s many cock-like roots. Above them, suspended there was the young naked boy who hung and was impaled upon the phallus tree; its long wooden shaft penetrating the boy who was depicted in an open-mouth scream. Alicia was overjoyed at the sight of such wickedness and evil as she pushed the slick wooden phallus inside herself.

She eagerly turned the page to find images of the witches fornicating with each other, using the doubled-ended phalluses to fuck themselves and each other. There had been a young girl in her dream that looked like her; or was she more like her Aunt Candice? She could not tell anymore. She looked like her twin. The young girl beckoned to Alicia and they held each other in a naked lover’s embrace. Their tongues plunged into each other’s open mouths as the debauchery of the witches reached its climax.

Alicia masturbated herself, imagining performing this act with her perverted Aunt. Looking beyond the fornicating witches, the illuminated painting showed one of the witches pressing the young boy down upon the phallus so that it completely impaled him, its cock head now exited from his open stretched gullet. His eyes bulged and blood flowed freely down and over his white-skinned body.

“ARRRGGGGGHHHHH” she groaned as a wave of intense pleasure surged through her groin.


She recovered quickly from her first orgasm but was hungry for more. Just then she heard someone on the front porch. Instinctively she knew it must be her Aunt returning sooner than expected. Alicia panted quickly trying to regain her breath and posture. She did not panic though overwhelmed in the afterglow of her body-numbing orgasm; quivering on her weak legs.

Alicia managed to stand up put the book back on the nightstand and place the wooden dildo back where she had found it on the bedding. She scrabbled from her Aunt’s bedroom closing the door behind her just as her Aunt entered the cottage.

“Alicia?” called her Aunt, “Alicia?” she walked around the hallway and into the living room, “There you are,” she said seeing Alicia with pen in hand, sitting at the dining table with her journal open.

“Oh, you’re back?” Alicia answered as if unconcerned as she pretended to write.

Her heart still fluttered. She could smell her Aunt’s soiled dildo. Mmmmmm.

“Yes, I am,” her Aunt looked suspiciously over her shoulder, “Starting your new journal? Good. I have heard that it’s excellent therapy … especially for young girls, who have been through so much like you.”

Her Aunt kissed the nape of her neck. It must have been a little salty from her perpetration. It was a sexy kiss that excited Alicia making her shiver at its touch. She groaned subconsciously. Her Aunt looked a little puzzled. But smiled at her niece’s acceptance of her more obvious advance. Could she smell Alicia’s sexual arousal? Did she suspect her of what she had been up to?

Her Aunt seemed not to dwell. She went immediately into the kitchen and Alicia could hear the sound of a meal being prepared.

“Can I help you, Candice?” asked Alicia slipping her arm around her Aunt’s dainty little waist.

She returned the lingering kiss to her Aunt’s neck. Candice also groaned. Her Aunt turned slowly and drew her niece closer. Her Aunt’s hands rested gently against her buttocks, still covered by the thin material of her dress. Candice leaned forward and kissed Alicia’s mouth. Alicia kissed her back. They stood together in silence, neither of them moved for a long while.

“You met the priest?” Candice said.

“Yes, he mistook me for you,” answered Alicia.

Her hands rested gently on Candice’s hips, drawing her even closer.

“I dreamt of you,”

She recalled her dream of the girl, by the fireplace and then again under the Hanging Tree, as she looked into Candice’s eyes.

They looked like her eyes. They looked like the mirror image of each other; identical in every way. Her eyes looked deep as pools filled with a little sorrow, a little pain, and a whole lot of salaciousness.

“Are you sure it was just a dream?” asked Candice.

This time she kissed her niece with open lips, sucking upon the youngster’s mouth, then pushing the tiniest point of her tongue against the inside of her upper lip, running in along it, before she withdraw it again.

“What have you done?”

“I saw what’s in the book … The Book of Dark Fantasies … beautiful perversions … and your wooden cock that made me cum!” She said, her hips pressed urgently against Candice’s.

Like two evil bitches in heat, they humped against each other as if there was no tomorrow.

“Concupitio mala,” said Alicia.

“Lust after Evil,” replied Candice.

“Daemona secteris,” said Alicia.

“Follow the Devil,” replied Candice.

“Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias,” said Alicia.

“Do not shun the pleasures of the flesh,” replied Candice.

“Now I understand. The priest. He does not serve Christ?”

Candice held her niece tightly and kissed her again. This time they both kissed with open mouths; as if in a replay of Alicia’s perverted dream; their tongues probed and curled around each other, dueling together, stabbing back and forth, swapping their saliva. Their noises became guttural and obscene.

“Christ be fucked,” moaned Candice.

Her hand lifted the hem of her niece’s dress to discover her absence of underwear. Her fingers lingered on the soft virginal flesh of her perfectly round bottom, slowly making their way towards the parting of her cheeks. Candice’s fingers brushed up and down between them, stroking gently between the dirty rosebud of her anus and the base of her dripping wet vulva. The heat and wetness still remained from her niece’s earlier orgasm; but was now greatly amplified by new and more taboo pleasures. The smell of sex filled her senses.

“What else did you see?” She asked Alicia.

Now placing her niece’s hand beneath her own blouse; against the skin of her bra-less breasts… showing her that she wanted her to cup her small childlike boobs and rub her bullet-hard nipples between her thumb and forefinger. She groaned in anticipation of the pleasure.

“More than enough to make me sell my soul to the devil,” answered Alicia pinching Candice’s nipples with one hand and slipping her other into the back of her elasticized pants to fondle her bottom with the other as she sucked her earlobe.

“To sell your soul?”

“I saw enough to know what I want … The absorption of carnal knowledge … your wickedness … your perverseness is so beautiful my kin … incest is such a forbidden fruit … I want to be a witch … Like you.”

“Christ be fucked!”

“I have seen the witch’s coven and their obscene ritual under the Hanging Tree … the naked young boy giving to the dark god … impaled with wickedness upon the phallic tree …”

“Yes. Yes. Oh … Yes.”

“I saw another young one … he was a holy child that was devoid of earthy sin. The holy child was brought before the graven idol of the Baphomet … stripped before the congregation of women-folk … I saw the old priest with his enormous penis, all hard and dripping … I saw him take the holy child and defile the young boy in the most base of ways … violently sodomizing him … raping the child before his congregation … castrating and fucking the child to death … I saw the coven of witches feasting upon his flesh while still warm … this is the way it must be … has it has been since the beginning … to please HIM! To glorify HIM! TO WORSHIP HIM!!!”

Candice shoved her niece’s hands away and stepped back.

“Alicia … You sound like a temple whore … Dispassionate … Uncaring … Like the painted demons that surrounded you in the library … Willing to become a witch and sell your very soul … Willing you to shamelessly masturbate and give yourself to the devil … Violent and evil … A demonic child satisfied only by lewdness, perversity, and blasphemy!”

Candice removed the rest of her clothing, throwing them aside until she stood completely naked before her shaking niece. Only her demonic necklace, the Sigil of Baphomet, hung loosely around her throat. She stood with her legs open wide, her hips thrust forward, her disdained vagina swollen and wet.

“Take off your dress and kneel before me, my child.”

Alicia did as she was told. Candice stood above her, the neb of her clitoris pocking out from its skin sheath and she feverishly rubbed herself against her niece’s upturned face that quickly become saturated with her Aunt’s vaginal secretions.

“AAARGGHHHHHHHH!!! You know that your parent’s death was no accident … That both of us were fathered by the same incubus who raped our mothers as they dreamt of Jesus fucking Christ … So that we, in term, will give birth to his incestuous children as the witches of this village have done for centuries …”

Candice pulled her labia wide and Alicia eagerly lapped between them, saliva and fuck juices mixing together, sucking momentarily upon her erect clitoris, before sinking her face against her, plunging her tongue inside her Aunt’s fuck tunnel; feverishly eating her out.

“ARAGHHHHHH! The WITCHES OF WINDY FOREST … they are all sick perverts … inbred pedophiles … Satanic clerics all … painters, sculptures, writers who spread the evil sickness …”

“Concupitio mala,” said Alicia.

“Daemona secteris,” replied Candice.

“Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias,” said Alicia.

“Though we are not of the same mother, we are satanic sisters fathered by a powerful demon … We are incestuous sisters … We are Cambions … We are half human, half demon …”

Candice knelt down next to her niece/sister and licked her own juices from her saturated face.

“Tonight at the witch’s hour, you will be baptized upon the Altar of Christ … You will enjoy blasphemous sex with the old priest … We shall spill his unclean seed upon the Holy Bible … Then we will slit his throat together and drink his blood before all the other witches of Windy Forest. Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias.”

“May we use your wooden penis?” asked Alicia.

“Christ be fucked!” prayed Candice.

“Christ be fucked!” prayed Alicia.

“Christ be FUCKED!!!” prayed the evil sisters.



It had rained heavily again that night, swelling the banks of the Great Northern River, so that they had flooded the only road that led into the village. Once more, the village was cut off from the rest of the world.

A dank darkness had fallen quickly over Windy Forest. Storm clouds moved over the weak stars and blanked out the moon. The shadow trees seemed to know that something devilish was about to happen and their branches shimmered in the impure restlessness of the strong breeze, sending copious leaves cascading downwards.

The congregation of women gathered in the decrepit old chapel. The old chapel itself was shockingly transformed. It had been lewdly desecrated. No longer dedicated to the Church of Jesus Christ, the Lord Savior, it was decorated in the most sordid of pornographic blasphemies. No longer an Altar of the Nazarene, the large dark wooden crucifix was now inverted with each of its crosspieces shaped like the bulbous crown of an erect penis (like the Hanging Tree).

The blasphemous cross hung over the low platform draped with a filthy black cloth that had been soaked in human urine and the inverted five-pointed pentagram with the Goat of Mendes holding the position of power at its center–the Sigil of Baphomet blessed the sacrilegious witch chapel. The idols of the Saints and Mother Mary had been smeared with feces. Clusters of long black phallic candles burned brightly as the pagan women of various ages from eight to eighty of Windy Forest knelt before the signs of their beloved Satan.

They all began chanting in a slow chorus of Latin vulgarities–the witches’ prayer.

“Concupitio mala, tu nequamquam dilige Christum,”

(Lust after evil, and do not at all love Christ)

Daemona secteris, nec pete salvifcum;

(You follow the devil, do not seek Him who gives salvation)

Despicias, rogo te, Christum: nec tempore toto

(Despise Christ, I beg you, and realize)

Conspice praesentem te fore judicio;

(That never will you stand before a judgment)

Veridicos preme, nec laudes, sed carpere gesta

(Suppress those who speak the truth, and do not praise the deeds of anyone, but seek to slander them)

Quaerito cujusvis, non tua respicias. Dispereas male, ne quaeras tu coelica, verum

(Do not consider your own; let your end be an evil one. Do not seek the things of heaven)

Crimine frangaris, ne fuge delicias.”

(Let yourself be broken by crime, do not shun pleasures of the flesh.)

The demonic twin sisters, Candice and Alicia, stood erect like bookends on either side of the tainted altar. As they pulled back the deep hoods of their bright red ceremonial gowns, the witches all muttered loudly; they recognized their own, Sister Candice; but now there were two of her, another sister, identical in appearance, Sister Alicia. They too removed their gowns and stood naked and prone with their perverted sisterhood.

The old priest appeared. He looked infirm and death-like. Beside his silver miter and white and silver stole, he was completely naked. His old wrinkled body looked weak and threadbare. He was just skin and bones. His flaccid genitals hung loosely over his long hairless ball-sacks. The priest’s pinkish-skinned testicles swayed side-to-side as he walked forward to take his position at the altar. He held his arms aloft, holding up his miter, and the chanting came to a standstill. The old priest mumbled something almost unintelligible in Latin and the beautiful Candice knelt before him.

She took hold of his flaccid member and put it into her pretty little mouth. As she began to suck at it noisily, her pale fingers wrapped around his low-hanging testicles. As she lightly squeezed them, while the fingers of her other hand began to finger-fuck his stinking old shit hole. The old priest groaned lewdly. He loved filthy sex–a pervert who never tired of fucking the youngest of Christians; fuck the fear of God into their little mouths, cunts, and assholes. He especially adored the younger boys. Sucking their little erections was such a pleasure. The old priest hungered for the taste of their boyish seed. Yes, he needed some more altar boy sex, and soon. He banged his bishop’s miter loudly.

“Daemona secteris!” he proclaimed.

“Daemona secteris … CHRIST BE FUCKED!!” chanted the voracious witches.

They too had begun to fervently masturbate at seeing the elevation of the old priest’s cock. Now fully erect, Candice sucked like a practiced whore upon the first six inches of his foot-long cock. The shape of his long shaft was clearly visible inside her dainty young throat. The old priest thrust harder and harder–until Candice withdrew.

Candice stood up and Alicia took her turn to fellate the fucking old man; sucking him into her tiny mouth that looked dwarfed by the size of his ugly veined organ. Alicia sucked eagerly, repeating the action of her Satanic Sister, rolling his heavy ball sacks that had the consistency of billiard balls in a loose plastic shopping bag. As she manipulated his testicles with one hand, she too fingered his filthy ass with the other.

“OH, YER! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! GOD OF CUNTS!” groaned the old priest.

His knobby old hands firmly held Alicia’s head in place, as he fucked her face harder and harder.

The audience of older witches, no longer satisfied with just their bony fingers, began to hump the long curved wooden dildos, lovingly shaped into phalluses of various lengths and girths, that extended upwards from the old wooden pews; like those of the Hanging Tree. Some used wooden double-ended dildos that resembled Alicia’s aunt’s one. They all groaned lewdly in search of sexual gratification, taking the long wooden dildos deeply into their wrinkly old cunts; as the teenage girls and even younger female children knelt before then sucking and licking their saggy old tits and needy clits.

It was time.

The old priest grunted and reluctantly dislodged himself from Alicia’s mouth. He took his seat on the thorn-like seat. Its base was padded with cushioned leather but with a hole wide enough at its base for one of their youngest to be positioned beneath it. The priest lowered his saggy ass over the face of the child below. Her mouth began to lick and suck at his disdained filthy asshole, whilst her tiny fingers played with his grotesque testicles. The old priest groaned in enjoyment as the young girl’s mouth made contact as she pressed her tongue against his revolting crack, penetrating his nasty sphincter. Now he rested his forearms on the armrests as he prepared to consecrate the ritual by fucking young Alicia.

The two sisters tongue-kissed with passion as they moved front and center. Alicia was ready to receive the priest’s cock. There would be a momentary pain, as he penetrated her. Alicia’s juices would drip downwards into the mouth of the tiny child below, and as he reached the moment of climax and his effete semen shot upwards into Alicia’s vagina. Candice was to slit his fucking throat as her Satanic sister fucked the bloody dying body; they would all bathe in his blood; drink it from the Unholy Chalice, saying ‘This is the body and blood of Christ. Christ be fucked’.

The sisterhood had taken it up another notch, some masturbating with crucifixes with phallic crosspieces; others with statues of Mother Mary; and some simply copulated together. But all eyes watched their sister Candice as she masturbated with the long wooden handle of the sacrificial knife that she would use at the appointed time. They all grimed sadistically, waiting for the climax of the high mass, of blood and semen in the name of their ONE TRUE GOD … THE SUPREME GOD … SATAN!

Alicia stroked the priest’s cock as she positioned herself above it. It felt huge; its length and thickness were far too big to fit into her tight little cunny. She thought of the illustrations from the Book of Dark Fantasies, the young boy slipping downwards upon the phallus tree, its appendage so huge that it would impale him and exit through his screaming mouth.

Her resplendent cunt juices dripped. She slid herself over the dirty old fuck’s body. His white-haired chest heaved. The old priest looked like all cock and the rest was just skin and bones. Its bright purple head sank between her stretched labia. She fingered her clitoris sending pleasure signals, where the girth of his bulbous cock felt uncomfortably lodged against her delicate hymen. He wanted pleasure. Unholy pleasure. His hands pressed down upon her narrow shoulders. His eyes, no doubt, were filled with the desire to take her flesh violently (unaware that she was half demon and that he would be slaughtered).

A savage movement thrust another six inches of satanic cock inside of her. If she had been a normal young girl, his organ would have riven her. But Alicia was not; she was Cambion, a half-breed, part human, part demon; and she could take the entire length of his enormous rod of flesh. And she did as it pushed upwards inside her tight fuck tube. The priest wanted to be balls deep. He wanted to let the little bitch scream; let his cock push upwards against her young cervix; for it was the will of Satan!

“CHRIST BE FUCKED!!!” screamed the beleaguering priest.

His bony arms pushed Alicia further downwards on his thick throbbing cock meat.

“ARAGHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Alicia screamed, half in agony, half in pleasure.

Her human half was in abject terror; her demon half enjoying every inch of the evil old priest. And as the demon half seemed to take over, while her human half had almost passed out in moral pain. Her demonic strength was more than that of the old fucking priest. She felt stuffed with his stupid dick. Eight inches filled her fuck tube. She was going to take it all. She lifted her almost weightless body upwards over his rampant organ and then thrust downwards, impaling herself again and again and again. Each time, inch by inch, she worked him, inside of her body until she was able to engulf his whole organ.

“CHRIST BE FUCKED!” the old priest mumbled as he felt his ball churn with his dead semen.

“Daemona secteris!” cheered the witches.

“Aaaarghhhhhhhhh…” he groaned in absolute pleasure.

The girl was so fucking tight! It was incredible how her cunt gripped the tumescence of his lumpen organ. He had fucked many young ones before, but never had he experienced such perverted bliss. She eagerly slid up and down to the groans from the audience. They were all rapidly approaching climax; as was the old fucking priest. He would cum and shoot his infertile old sperm up into her womb and then the ritual would be done. She could not wait. Milk him. Milk the fucker.

“I’m gonna cum … URGGGHHHHH …” urged the old priest.

His saggy-skinned face looked like it was about to burst. His bloodshot eyeball bulged. His knotted old fingers tightly gripped the armrests as Alicia’s demonic body savagely thrust up and down the length of his enormous weapon, taking him from balls to the rectum and then back to the very tip of his knob, so that it almost slipped out of her juicy hole.

The elderly witches now gripped the younger ones as they rammed their long wooden dildos into the younger children, penetrating them, as they penetrated themselves-fucking them harder and harder, as they screamed in their perverted ecstasy.

“HOLY CHRIST BE FUCKED!! I … I … I … I’M GONNA … UURGGGHHHHHHHH …” screamed the old fucking priest, uncontrollably.

His yellowish dead semen sprayed the inside of Alicia’s virgin womb, the knife traveled through veins and muscles, like an invisible steal ghost. Blood sprayed like a fountain as his screams drowned in bubbles of redness. Alicia continued to pound his meat as he began his death rattle; it was all over for the old fucking cock man. The priest was choking on his own fluids. Die you old fuck! She thought, make me CUM SATAN!

“AARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH …” Alicia screamed at the top of her voice.



There was only a slight breeze that day in Windy Forest. It was an unusual calm. The bright morning light shone strongly through the grey cloud bank, it looked inspirational and heavenly over the sleepy little village. It was almost mid-morning and not a soul stirred.

Alicia sat out on the veranda smoking a cigarette. She reflected only briefly on the apotheoses of the previous night in the perverted chapel. It seemed like a world away. She still felt very bruised and torn, but completely sate. Her contagion was complete. Had the Devil accepted her offer and given his approbation? Was she now a witch? She was sure of nothing except that the demonic process of renewal was already in place. There would be a new priest to join their congregation, to take the place of the one that passed away. There would be no autopsy, no investigation; stranger things happen in the wilds of Windy Forest. Beasts were known to take children or older folk, and even strong young men in these parts.

Candice sat down with her delicious young sister. They kissed passionately again. Both convivial and neither dressed as their demonic bodies did not feel the cold or the heat like the rest of us. They only craved the hedonistic pursuit of demonic cock and each other. They were told that the new minister was well-endowed.




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