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

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Incest, WS, Scat references, Cohesion, Corruption, Lolita, NC, Rape, Drug Use, Sadism, Pedophilia, Snuff, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, Evil themes

CREATED: 16.04.2013 / REVISITED: 29.10.2023

XVI — Tower


In a reading, if this card shows up we’ll see a Tower nature that has been riding high sexually at the expense of others. Because this nature’s sexual habits and propensities are damaging to others, a price must be paid for its enforced and stolen joys. A harvest of ill-gotten orgasms, no matter how enjoyable at the time, requires the rapacious recipient to pay. Its meaning can imply opposites – cessation of sexual activities, a loss of sexual prowess and power, even sexually transmitted diseases, and even castration. It could be a sign of shattered dreams of sexual fame, self-imposed celibacy, disgrace, ruin, adversity, and distressful misery. At the same time, the Tower stands upright, as the symbol of the erect penis (or clitoris). It stands for the bonds of lust. Those who erect the Tower may find that they all labor in vain. It can reveal a dominating, violent, or abusive relationship; and can indicate oppressive sex or sexual slavery. In this disintegrating relationship, the Tower is about discovering shocking aspects of a partner’s sexuality or infidelity – a scandal in high places. The Tower is not good news.


Stephanie Koon had been one of the most sought-after and highly successful ‘art house’ film directors and producers, known for her edgy style and, sometimes, controversial subject matter. This filmography covers her prolific work from the past eleven years:

  • 2002 – Under My Bed: first film as a director about pre-teen sexual dreams
  • 2002 – Kiss of the Vampress: based on a female molester with a blood fetish 2003 – Girl with a Clit Ring: portrayal of S&M lifestyle
  • 2004 – Charms of the East: based in British-India in the 1950’s
  • 2004 – To sexy for Herriot: protagonist caught up in illicit sexual affairs
  • 2005 – The Devil’s Children: focuses on the sex cults of the sixties
  • 2005 – My Dreams of Durga: worshiping the sacred virgin yoni
  • 2006 – Loving Mommy: based on incestuous mother and daughter relationship
  • 2007 – Dionysus the Demonic: a blasphemous film about sexual cannibalism
  • 2008 – Little Girls: documentary style film focuses on schoolgirl lesbians
  • 2009 – Moloch’s Lust: black and white film about sex, occult and abuse
  • 2009 – Molesters’ Paradise: a playground for rich women who like young girls
  • 2010 – The Cambions: the story of half-demons spawn from wayward women
  • 2011 – Fuck Christ: openly sacrilegious, focused on the sex in the church
  • 2011 – Occult Sex: phallic worship, nuns with guns, pedophile priests
  • 2012 – The Baphomet: focuses on transsexual themes on Satanism
  • 2013 – The Witches: sex magic and ritual molestation; controversial sex scenes
  • 2014 – Death of a Princess [currently in production]: A reflection about the how little life is worth or valued in the eyes of those involved with the flesh trade of human trafficking; and the lives of those caught up in the real-life horrors and dangers of sexual slavery


“… And in other news tonight, controversial director, Stephanie Koon is in the spotlight once again. Her string of highly offensive titles, including ‘Occult Sex’, ‘The Baphomet’ and ‘The Witches’ created a strong divide between those in censorship, some dubbing them as ‘trashy’ while others say they are ‘perverse’…”

Stephanie Koon had been a highly successful ‘art house’ film producer, known for her edgy style and, sometimes, controversial subject matter. In more recent times, she has been openly criticized by the conservation press, especially over her films that were said to promote the sexualization of young children. Her fall from grace had been a tremendous shock to all, with unpublished material leaked to the media as well as a mention of a huge collection of disturbing child pornography — supposedly revealing a flip side to Miss Koon’s sexual interests.

For her, there seemed to be no escape in the relentless media. Strangely enough, it had not hurt the sales of her material – however, the prosecution had been quick in preventing any of this increased income from flowing back to her, saying it was profit from the abuse of minors. Stephanie had ended up burning all her limited funds on legal representation and, some say, had only just escaped a very lengthy prison sentence.

It was a cold Tuesday morning in February, when she was finally released from the prison lock-up, after being in isolation lockdown for over six months during the trial period – for her own protection. In a plea bargain, she had pleaded guilty to a lesser charge with time served and was released with the disgraced title of ‘sexual predator’ tagged to her record. She would never be able to make a movie again. In the industry, she was for all sense of purposes persona non grata.

The timing of her release had been brought forward by twenty-four hours and she was unceremoniously pushed out the prison gates before the local press could pick her bones. Stephanie was almost unrecognizable, from her former self – she had been a petite and elegant Asian woman, half Chinese, half Thai, with an exotic look that many male suitors had chased. She had never been interested in men – young boys, but never men. Now, she looked gaunt and drawn, her body waifish and excessively bony. She had shaven her long black hair in prison and without any make-up, looked a shadow of her former beauty. Dressed in drainpipe black jeans, she wore a drab grey hooded sweatshirt and dark sunglasses to conceal her identity. A small paper bag contained everything she now owned.

Her lawyer was supposed to have been there at her release but was nowhere to be found. He had made his money. Glad to be finally released, but not entirely sure what she was going to do, Stephanie was just relieved to find herself free again. She breathed the cold morning air deeply. It smelt different from the other side of the bars. Despite the shift in the release schedule, it seemed the anxious paparazzi had the drop on the prison system, and out of nowhere, twenty or so cameramen appeared together with a crowd of angry protestors sporting ugly banners and determined expressions. She was cornered.

Just at that moment, a sleek black limousine pulled up against the street curb and its electric window opened to reveal an older Indian gentleman in a dark suit.

“Miss Koon. My apologies for this unexpected offer, but may I be of assistance? Please would you join me?” he said opening the door.

Stephanie looked across at the angry mob gathering and moving quickly towards her. Without a second thought, she stepped in before she could be accosted and harassed. The silence inside the limousine was a sharp contrast to the angry shouts and ‘blink-blink’ of camera flashes as the vehicle sped off from the curbside, to quickly be out of their reach.

“Miss Koon, my name is Salil Kumar. I represent an interested beneficiary, who at this stage wishes to remain anonymous. They are great believers in your work and were concerned for your welfare. They wish to offer you a safe place to rest up and consider using your significant talents on a personal project of their design.”

Stephanie took a second deep breath. She could not believe that anyone would help her or give her sanctuary, let alone offer her any future work. She remembered the philosophical words but not the source — if it looks too good to be true, it’s probably not.

“Mr. Kumar?”

“Yes that’s right, but please call me Salil,” he replied with an unnervingly perfect smile.

He gave her a pristine white business card with his name and telephone number embossed in silver script.

“Well Salil, I appreciate your concern, it’s not like I have any other significant offers at this time, but I am not sure about this. Can you let me out, I have your card, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Miss Koon, please, my employers have authorized me to provide you with this — accept it as a down payment for … let’s say … future services.”

He pushed an open envelope into her hand that contained a security key and a two-inch stack, of what looked like hundred-dollar bills.

“Maybe you are being a little hasty Miss Koon in dismissing our offer of assistance? I know that as soon as you step out of the limousine, the press will try to hunt you down. There is no other safe place for you right now. They are not sated with your verdict — they want your blood, Miss Koon?”

Stephanie looked at the stack of cash. It felt heavy in her hand. She wanted to give it back. She wanted to get out of this ridiculous vehicle and go home — but her home was now gone, sold like everything else to support her defense. She wanted to just be alone for a while and have time to think. The limousine pulled into a small, quiet back street.

“Miss Koon, we have arrived. There is a small apartment on the penthouse level. It is very secure. It has a private lift. Nobody but I, knows where you are. You will not be disturbed. Stay as long as you need. Consider the offer. If you decide that it is not for you, please keep the down payment as a gift from the beneficiary.”

“This is very generous. I just don’t understand?”

The driver opened the limousine door.

“Miss Koon. You are a very talented young woman. The beneficiary has admired your work for many years. I am sure that you will find their project interesting. Now, please take the door immediately to your left. The lift will only operate with the key. Call me when you have an answer. Good luck and good day.”


Stephanie watched the limousine pull away. She looked around and seeing that she was now alone, opened the heavy door and entered the private lobby. The lift door opened. She inserted the key and pressed the only button on the metallic wall of the lift. It indicated up.

She hadn’t noticed the number of floors in the building, but the lift moved rapidly and stopped without a jerk. The door opened into the lavish interior of the city penthouse. Salil had called it a small apartment, but even to Stephanie’s estimation, it was somewhat large and filled with every convenience and comfort she could have asked for. The kitchen and bar were all well stocked. A central staircase indicated a second floor and the panoramic view of the river was breathtaking. A shower. It was the most pressing thought in her mind.

Walking up the stairs, she found the spacious bedroom and the master ensuite. Suitably impressive was the whiteness of everything. It had a Jacuzzi that could fit about four people; a separate shower and double sinks … and everywhere she looked were mirrored walls. As she undressed, she looked at her frailty … every bone in her body was visible … she had been worn out from the anxiety and stress of the six-month ordeal … all she wanted was to sleep and awake to find it had been just a nightmare.

The hot water had relaxed her fatigued body, soothed her tired mind and now she felt like stretching out on the oversized round bed and closing her eyes. As she stepped back naked into the master bedroom she got a shock. A young girl, no older than twelve years old stood servile and still. Stephanie made a vain attempt to cover herself, but the girl stepped forward with a folded garment across her arm.

“Your gown, Mistress.”

Stephanie went to accept the gown to cover her embarrassment at firstly her nudity and secondly, at the way, she felt about herself — but the girl held the garment open instead so that Stephanie could put her arms through the sleeves of the sheer material that felt so soft and silky against her skin. It felt luxurious. The girl assisted her with the delicate ties on either side of the gown and then stood back.

“You look beautiful Mistress. My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. Can I get you some refreshments? A fresh pineapple juice, or maybe a Bourbon and coke?”

How did she seem to know everything that Stephanie liked?

“Sorry, it’s not your fault. I thought I was alone.”

“My name is Aishani Mistress, I am here to make you feel at home.”

Stephanie looked at her for the first time properly. She felt a tingle between her legs that she tried to suppress. This delicious little morsel was dressed in a small white dhoti that barely covered her girlish frame. Stephanie’s eyes cast across her soft brown skin and delightfully childish features.

“Would Mistress prefer me to take it off?” she asked as she blushed with Stephanie’s attention.

“Yes. Take it off.”

The girl untied her dhoti and stood naked before Stephanie. Soft brown skin with small puffy mounds for breasts, dollar coin-sized aureolas, and a hairless vagina. Action for action, word for word… It was a scene taken from one of her earliest movies; where the protagonist, a wealthy Caucasian woman, forced an Indian girl-child to perform oral sex on her.

Stephanie laughed.


The young girl did as she was told and Stephanie stepped in front of her. Her hand ran through the girl’s soft black curls and placing her fingers beneath her chin, she guided Aishani’s mouth towards her moist pussy.

“Lick it. Lick me out you little nigger bitch!” she said in self-parody.

In her actual film, the nudity was seen only briefly from the rear and the sound of the girl performing oral sex on the older female was the only indication of the outcome. Of course in her mind, Stephanie knew exactly how the scene would have played out. She pulled the girl’s mouth towards her wet vagina, crushing the girl’s lips against her as she thrust forward and ground against her upturned face.

Stephanie groaned lewdly. It felt so fucking good. Six months in solitary. Her eyes looked around at the myriad of reflections of the two of them, locked together in a ‘taboo sex scene’ from every conceivable angle. She imagined the film rolling — Action!


Aishani was the first of a few ‘pleasant’ surprises in the apartment. After their first sexual encounter in the bathroom, neither wore any clothing around the apartment. Stephanie was very demanding. She wanted to have sex with the young girl every minute of the day and night. Grinding their eager cunts together, sucking her pussy slime from the girl’s face. They fucked on the balcony, in the bed, and in the Jacuzzi.

Aishani showed her that the apartment was well stocked with sex toys and pornography of every kind — especially her favorite, child porn. There was a small video recorder and Stephanie wasted no time videoing Aishani doing all manner of obscene things for her personal deviant delight, masturbating with large vegetables, urinating over herself in the bed, and defecating on the dining room table.

It had been four days since she had been released from prison and Stephanie felt like it had been a month. She never wanted to leave this paradise. But on the morning of the fifth day, she awoke in bed to find that Aishani was gone. She needed to suck that bitches tight little pussy, taste her spicy juices, to feel her little clit between her lips. Frustrated, she looked all around the apartment but could not find her. Stephanie was about to settle for masturbating whilst watching some rather vanilla lesbian S&M porn when the wall monitor purred in the background.

Stephanie got up and turned the sound down … the scene had featured three desperate-looking lesbian sex slaves groaning as a female dominatrix, dressed in an impossibly skin-tight red latex outfit, whipped them into a masochistic frenzy. It was definitely purring. She walked over to the hallway wall and pressed the button. It was Salil. She pressed the intercom.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Koon. I was wondering if it is convenient to talk right now?”

“I guess so. Give me a minute,” she answered.

“Take your time, please, take five,” she guessed that Salil would have his own key.

Stephanie turned off the video and grabbed her dressing gown.

She was right and true to his word, five minutes had passed exactly when the lift door opened and Salil let himself into the apartment.

“Miss Koon. Good to see you again. You are looking refreshed I must say,” said Salil as he perched on the edge of one of the large white leather couches.

“Actually I feel great thanks.”

Stephanie sat opposite him. She really hadn’t looked that closely at him in the limousine on the day of her release. He was elderly, grey but very distinguished. Everything about him looked prim and proper. Not a hair out of place.

“As I said to you before, you can stay here as long as you need. The beneficiaries are pleased that you have embraced their hospitality; I believe Aishani was to your liking?”


Stephanie was not quite sure how to answer the question if to answer at all.

“They thought you’d appreciate the reference to ‘Charms of the East’; one of your earlier films I believe. A masterpiece, I must say. They are truly big fans.”

“I can see that now.”

She deliberated quickly over the obviously planned seduction.

“Well, here is a script for your perusal. It’s a draft really. Feel free to make any direction notations you like. Nothing is set in stone … they were hoping you would have a read and then … we can talk more?”

Salil stood up tipped his hat and was gone again.

Stephanie picked up the manuscript and read the title ‘Death of a Princess.’ She thumbed a couple of pages and then poured herself a Bourbon and Coke — a large one. Sitting down again, she opened the pages of the script and began to masturbate as she read out loud to herself.



“… Critics slammed her 2005 independent release, ‘The Devil’s Children’ despite its nomination for a number of major awards at the Cannes Palme d’Or, they claimed it incited illicit and obscene behavior towards the under-aged and was simply scandalous smut …”

The script had not taken that long to go through and though the plot was relatively straight-forward, the idea that there was an investor willing for her to make this highly perverted film excited her enormously. She had masturbated throughout the entire reading and had reached orgasm several times. It was so truly debauched.

It was a piece of pure evil.

She imagined scene after scene of salaciousness — a masterpiece only appreciated by a select few. If she directed this movie, she would leave nothing left to the imagination — it would be raw, hungry, and depraved — a feature-length dedicated to the worship of an evil sexual predator, where evil itself would for once endure and all that it touched would be laid to waste.

The apartment phone rang. Stephanie picked up the receiver but waited to see who was there. It was Salil.

“Good afternoon Miss Koon. I trust you have had time to read the script?”

“Actually I have.”

“And how did you find it?”

“Very interesting.”

“That’s wonderful. The beneficiaries will be pleased to hear that. I will let them know that we may discuss terms of your involvement?”

“Mr. Kumar. No disrespect, but I would like to meet with the beneficiaries before I decide to take on the project.”

“I don’t think that would be possible. But leave that to me, I will find out what arrangements can be made.”

“Mr. Kumar. Really. No meeting face-to-face, and no picture. Okay?”

“I understand Miss Koon. I will do my utmost to accommodate your request.”


Stephanie read the script again and again. She came over and over as she imagined each scene, each sexual mischief, each sinful act. She was intrigued to know who would have conceived such a devious project. It was written for her. It would not have any commercial success. It would be underground at best and illegal at its worst. She sipped on the bourbon over ice and nervously looked out of the small porthole windows of the private jet. The sky was blue-black with storm clouds and the rain was beginning to get heavy. The small aircraft shook as the sky lit up with an incredible sudden whiteness.

It had been the Monday morning, not that it mattered to Stephanie at the time. She had not left the apartment since she first arrived on the Tuesday of the previous week. She had been feeling a little frustrated, but at the same time, she recognized that in this town, she would be quickly noticed anywhere she went – and of course for the wrong reasons. She had lost her anonymity forever with her face splashed across the tabloids and the trashy gossip magazines. She needed to get away; as far away as possible.

The phone rang and again she lifted the receiver but said nothing. It had been Salil with some positive news.

“Miss Koon. It’s Salil Kumar. I managed to discuss the situation about the script with the beneficiaries over the weekend and they have agreed to meet with you. I am afraid that they are overseas, so you will have to make a small trip to meet them. Are you alright with that?”

So there they were, Stephanie Koon and Salil Kumar, on board the so-called beneficiaries’ private jet, on their way to an undisclosed destination. The jet flew onward into the thundering skies.

“A word of advice, Miss Koon. The beneficiaries are very private people. They do not take likely to familiarization and their ways are … different to what you may be used to … nonetheless, they are great fans of your work and are keen to get the project underway, hence their agreement to your terms.”


It was pouring with rain at the plane strip and Salil escorted Stephanie under a large umbrella to a waiting limousine. Stephanie had had way too many drinks to calm her nerves in the storm; and now was feeling rather giddy from the combination of alcohol and the roughness of the trip that had been through thunder, lightning, and hail for the majority of the journey. The rush of warm wind and the smell of the tropics filled her senses. It reminded Stephanie of her film ‘Moloch’s Lust’ which had taken place on a small reclusive tropical island paradise … it had been the perfect refuge for sexual predators (like her) … interesting she thought.

The limousine headlights shone through the total blackness; no streetlights; no lights of any kind; only the occasional stabs of lightning challenged the complete blackness of the stormy night. Eventually, the vehicle stopped under the grand portico of an eighteenth-century mansion. The driver opened the door and Salil helped Stephanie out of the rear. Salil gestured over the sound of the rain and the wind.

A porter or servant dressed much like a fierce Sikh warrior scurried to remove the bags from the back of the limousine, then quickly disappeared into the mansion’s interior.

“Stephanie Koon! The great Stephanie Koon is here!” announced an excited voice that boomed, even over the havoc of the tropical cyclone.

The woman was one of three exotic-looking Indian women; the one calling her name looked the eldest of the three. Each, seemed to be a replica of the older one – maybe sisters or maybe daughters? They were all dressed identically in silver-white saris that clung to their impossibly narrow waists with nothing else but a material sash that crossed their naked breasts and hung loosely over their shoulders.

The older of three looked in their mid-thirties and was extremely well kept with small firm breasts and dark aureolas. The younger ones in their teens, it was hard to guess with these Asians. All together, they had an almost majestic appearance, like Indian royalty. There seemed to be a glow of iridescence about them. Their coffee-colored skin looked deep and rich against the silvery whiteness of their beautiful formal clothing. Stephanie felt under-dressed in her singlet and shorts, and she blushed having noticed that her eyes had lingered far too long on their succulent breasts.

“Yes I am Stephanie Koon, and you are …”

“This is Tamanna and Sadhamayi, my daughters. And I am Vanitha, Vanitha Kakkad.”

Vanitha immediately took Stephanie by the arm. The flesh of her naked breast rubbed against Stephanie’s bare arms. They were like long-lost girlfriends. Stephanie was still very light-headed and leaned even harder against her new companion for support.

“I am so glad you agreed to work on our project.”

The project. In all the pomp and ceremony of this strange introduction, she had forgotten the reason that she was here. Looking at Vanitha, Tamanna, and Sadhamayi, despite their half-nudity, they looked unlikely to ever have anything to do with such a blasphemous project. In fact, Stephanie felt she was in the twilight zone. Maybe the scripts had been mixed up?

Salil, Tamanna, and Sadhamayi followed in Vanitha’s wake as she led the way forward into the mansion that could only be described as magnificent.

“My Dreams of Durga,” whispered Stephanie.

“Yes, yes … I modeled it on your wonderful visionary movie. The divine mother goddess, the giver of rapturous pleasure …” replied the gushing and enthusiastic Vanitha.

The mansion certainly captured all the grandeur of the British-Indian empire and more. The splendid interior architecture dripped with touches of a secretive salaciousness in its underlining detail that celebrated the sexual worship of the Goddess Durga – subtle but still very apparent to Stephanie’s knowing eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind, but we have organized a little welcome for you tomorrow night, as I thought you may be tired after your trip … so tonight, I thought it best that you relax and enjoy our family hospitality?”

She didn’t wait for Stephanie’s answer instead she turned to her two daughters.

“I will show our honored guest to her rooms.”

Both the beautiful young girls nodded in unison. They smiled almost suggestively to Stephanie’s perverted delight. Stephanie could almost taste the sweat of their bare breasts in her mouth. They were deliciously sexual in every way possible … in their look, their walk … and in every way identical to their exquisite mother.

Arm-in-arm, Stephanie, and Vanitha ascended the central stairway up to a balcony level that ran around the entire top section of the double-volume hall. The alcohol dulled her senses somewhat, and she was grateful for the closeness of the host’s support. In their closeness she breathed deeply, appreciating Vanitha’s perfumed aroma that seemed to affect her in a very sensual way. Her host’s nipples had hardened to inch-long bullets. She pulled close to Stephanie’s ear, her lips almost kissing them as she whispered like two co-conspirators …

“I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally meet you. I have eagerly followed your entire career from its very beginning … from ‘Under My Bed’ and ‘Kiss of the Vampress’ – you are truly gifted by the gods of sex! May I say … a succubus of goddess Durga herself! Ah! Here we are.”

She announced as they had arrived at an exquisitely carved set of lattice doors. She pushed them open to reveal the most magnificent of staterooms, appointed equally in splendor to the mansion’s great hall. The furniture more than suggested sexual activities and the mirrored walls and pornographic decor left nothing to Stephanie’s imagination. The combination of drunkenness and horniness was making her feel out of control. She briefly noticed her bags had been brought there already.

“Please make yourself at home. Does this room not inspire your most salacious of thoughts? It never fails to make me horny? I hope you don’t mind, I wanted it to inspire you in our project …”

Stephanie entered her accommodation and looked around. It was incredible. Unbelievable. She felt lost in giddiness. Vanitha closed the door behind them.

“Vanitha… May I say, that I am still a little surprised at all of this? I mean the bad press that I have been getting, the court case, and my stretch in prison? Meeting you all, I wasn’t sure about the script. I mean you seem so …”

Varitha laughed and openly played with her own breasts, cupping the flesh and rolling her erect nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

“Stephanie. Like you, I have worshiped sex demons all my life … and I have been blessed with many daughters who all feel the same … you have met Aishani?”

The young girl walked majestically from the bathroom beyond. Stephanie could just see a bathing pool that looked more like a swimming pool than a bath. The rising steam indicated its temperature. Aishani stood as she had done the first night at the apartment – erect and servile, with a folded outfit over her arm. She smiled brightly with a blackish luster in her eyes. The lightning lit up the shadowy room with a blinding light. A second or so later, she heard the clap of the distant thunder.


Stephanie almost panted looking at the sweet young thing. Her cunt was so wet.

“She is my youngest daughter. She shared with me all the wonderful things you did together. She wanted to bathe us both tonight … I hope that this will be alright?”

“Oh my god! It was your daughter?!”

“Please, mistress.” She stood behind Stephanie and reached around to undo the top button on Stephanie’s shorts. Her shorts fell to the ground, revealing Stephanie’s bare backside. Aishani’s hands openly fondled her bony buttocks and then her fingers found their mark, quickly registering the heat and wetness radiating from Stephanie’s genitals and sliding between her fleshly lips. Stephanie gasped in sensual pleasure.

Vanitha was now naked. Stephanie had already admired her small fist-sized breasts and coned black nipples; they invited her to wrap her lips around them; but now she stared at Vanitha’s pouting cunt, the pinkish flesh visible as her brown labia parted wet and swollen. She approached Stephanie and helped her pull her singlet over her head.

“My daughter has pleasured me from a very early age. You will find that everyone on our island partakes in sex with each other and with their children. For our own, we do have some limits, but from those we abduct from other places, you will find that your imagination may need no limit.”

“So the script … the sex, blasphemy, abuse, rape and murder?”

“Your film will be a masterpiece … dedicated to the nigger goddess herself!”

Vanitha and her daughter sandwiched Stephanie between them. Vanitha kissed Stephanie; their mouths crashed together as they passionately kissed each other, sucking at each other’s faces — panting and hungry. Vanitha wasted no time. She fingered Stephanie’s cunt with one hand and squeezed her erect nipples with the other. Stephanie reached between her legs and sunk three fingers into the wet mess of labia and juices.

Now all naked, the three women made their way to the bathing pool. Now it was Aishani’s turn, first, she kissed Stephanie and then her own mother, their ravenous tongues twisting together with incestuous lust.



“… Bad reviews still plague the estranged director, Stephanie Koon. Some have called her latest offering ‘Occult Sex’ belongs only in the house of self-indulgence, saying it is neither provocative nor spectacular, but mindless blasphemy and lies that glorify pedophilia and the abuse of young children for the benefit of the nameless demons in the Vatican…”

It reminded Stephanie of the ‘Mad-hatters Tea Party’. The strange ensemble of about twenty or so people had obviously all traveled some distance, all to be here at the Kakkad’s mansion to welcome her and kick off this even more bizarre production. Had they all been living in a bubble? Had they not read the news? She was persona non grata.

Yet she observed the adults, as they talked, drank cocktails, and likely grazed on the various finger foods, their predatory eyes never stopped staring at the naked children that milled in between them serving the food and beverages. Even Stephanie had found it difficult to pretend that she wasn’t turned on by all this young available flesh. Her hunger swelled. She recognized it in all the other guests. It wasn’t the fact that every male was erect or the flushed faces of the women … she just knew from instinct that not one of them was not in a heightened sexuality at the sight of so many sumptuous cherubs.

“So tell me Miss Koon, in that lusty final scene in ‘The Witches’ did you really nail those naked children to those inverted crosses?” asked a tall thin woman in her late forties dressed in a leopard skin print that looked two sizes too small for her.

“If I told you that I did, would you have enjoyed it more?” answered Stephanie.

The woman laughed loudly, her eyes had not stopped staring at Stephanie’s bare breasts.

“Taste them?”

“Oh, may I dear? Oh, how I do love Vanitha’s little demonic orgies,” replied the woman,

She first cupped and suck Stephanie’s left nipple, bringing it to a new level of hardness, and then repeated the process with the right. Her male partner rubbed his erection through his loose dhoti-style pants that seemed to be favored by almost all the males.

Just then, Vanitha whisked by to rescue Stephanie, dragging her to meet a youngish guy that looked like a fetish priest with dark eye make-up and his even stranger androgynous partner, whose feminine features looked in sharp contrast to her long flaccid cock that hung obscenely against her stocking-covered legs.

“Stephanie … I want you to meet your number two biggest fans; I say number two because of course, I am number one. This is Reverend Swine and his associate Madam Rouge – he is from Vatican City and she is a world-famous shemale porn star … they are both wild about your latest movies, especially ‘Occult Sex’ …”

“They’re all wonderful, Miss Koon. But I must say, you caused a stir in the underbelly of the Vatican … my brothers laugh at the media … they accuse you of fraudulence and mischief … as they have no idea themselves and don’t know how close you are to the truth! Of course, for your newest project, Vanitha asked me to furnish you with greater detail into the actual black mass rituals that we perform … of the abuse, rape, sexual cannibalism, and necrophilia … of the fate of the thousands of young disciples that are offered to Satan every year at high mass!”

“You’re making me wet just hearing you talk about it Reverend …” interrupted Vanitha.

She clapped her hands together sharply, to get the attention of the group holding Stephanie firmly by the arm.

“A quick word my dear friends of welcome … some of you have traveled afar to join us today to welcome the talented and beautiful, Miss Stephanie Koon … to do the honors tonight, here is our own, the Reverend Swine …”

“Thank you, Madam Kakkad. Welcome one and all to this special celebration. I think I speak of all of us when I say that we have over the years followed with great admiration the collective works of one of the world’s most gifted film directors … one who has reflected our special interests … made it an art form … despite critical prosecution. Tonight, not only do we celebrate her joining our fold, but also she has agreed to direct Madam Kakkad’s latest project ‘Death of a Princess’ – Miss Koon …” he raised his champagne glass.

“Miss Koon!” responded the group unanimously.

Stephanie blushed from the immediacy of the attention. She had not prepared for this, but was a practiced professional when it came to the impromptu word or two …

“Thank you, Madam Kakkad, Reverend Swine, ladies and gentlemen. It is truly an honor to be here and accept this challenge. ‘Death of a Princess’ will be more than just a film about the corruption and coercion of the young; leading to their abuse, subjection, and slavery … it will celebrate openly and be a testament to the joys of sexual perversions, of extreme abuse and revel in a climax of human sacrifices to our darkest gods!”

The strange group applauded loudly at Stephanie’s words.

“Now everybody,” announced an excited Vanitha, “… Top up your champagne glasses and join me in the little devil’s theater …”

Everyone started talking at once. There was an excited expectation that had everyone moving towards the doorway. Taking Stephanie firmly by the hand, Vanitha led the group through the double doors into a dimly lit room with a small semi-circular stage, surrounded by comfortably padded booths that all faced the slightly raised platform draped by curtains that was obviously intended for the performance that everyone was excited to see.

“Please everybody …” said Vanitha aloud, raising her voice about the loud chatter as the group made their way to their respective seats, “.. Make yourselves comfortable… as the performance is about to begin!”

Stephanie lounged next to Vanitha in the darkness; they were front and center and their seating was made up of wide couches, like day beds, with low backs and large pillow-like cushions. The rear doors to the theater closed, making the room almost completely dark.

The curtain lifted dramatically to reveal a narrow-beamed spotlight upon a single little ballet dancer. She was in tobré as if fallen in an elegantly arranged pile with one of her legs extended. The music began; it was a soft classic piece that Stephanie immediately recognized as Liszt’s Liebestraum #3 in A Flat. The tiny twelve-year-old lifted her head gracefully and moved her arms as if stretching her angel-like wings to the sound of the gentle piano. She is a vision of naivety, purity, and innocence. As the gentle ascending keys of the tempo rose, so did she.

The dancer was dressed in virgin white, a classic ballet bun graced with a long white ribbon, a delicate lace bodice cupping her almost flat pre-teen chest, fragile tulle tutu, and matching white Pointe shoes with ribbons crisscrossing the fine bones of her narrow ankles. Her refined movements were simply breathtakingly nimble as she stretched effortlessly flowing from altitude to arabesque, from sissonne fondue to ciseaux… all the while her angelic face was a serene picture of softness and demurity.

“She’s absolutely delightful – I must have her …!” leered Stephanie.

“And you shall my darling … but be patient … I choreographed this, especially for you. I have called it ‘Le ballet des démons noirs’ … ” whispered Vanitha.

Her tongue already exploring Stephanie’s ear lobes, as her long boney fingers snaked beneath Stephanie’s dhoti searching for her wet cunt.

The music arrangement began to change, the tempo remained slow, but the gentleness of the piano was gradually replaced with a more ambient and industrial sound; music that was not music; still as rhythmical, it was dark, eerie, oppressive, and almost sinister. Her movements became erratic, and unpredictable in response to the transformation; her serene expression was replaced with fearfulness, worry, and even a touch of panic.

“I love it … agggguhhh … I must have her now …!” she groaned as Vanitha began to finger-fuck her.

There were other sexual sounds coming from every direction in the audience. Sounds that gave away others already initiating illicit liaisons in the furtive darkness — the demonic orgy had already begun. Now Vanitha moved her fingers in and out to the sound of a mechanical beat.

From the side wings of the stage, three other dancers appeared. They were also young twelve-year-old girls, but they were the antithesis of the first. Each was dressed in a black tutu, black Pointe shoes, and black ribbons adorning their bun cascading the white flesh of the bare backs and wrapping their delicate ankles – their eyes were darkened with Gothic make-up; naked to the waist, their budding bosoms were completely exposed.

They danced playfully around the girl dressed in white, who now appeared frightened and disturbed by their mischievous presence. The impish and naughtiness of their movements sharply contrasted with the control and elegance of the angelic one. Like excited predators, they moved around their prey in ever-decreasing circles as their spicy dance was verging on sensual and illicit. They turned, bent, and stretched their flexible legs to expose their naked vaginas to the appreciative audience … who groaned and masturbated in darkness.

Stephanie leaned forward onto Vanitha’s fingers so that they penetrated her deeper… she bucked her hips at the sight of the little girl’s bare flat chests and the wanton way they display their little cunts …

“Oh, fuck! Oh, holy fuck! This is so perverted!” Stephanie groaned lewdly into Vanitha’s ear.

“It gets even better!” taunted Vanitha.

More devilish dancers appeared as the lighting changed to fiery reds and burnt oranges… the stage had changed to something evil and hellish, as the six noir dancers became even more salacious; grinding and thrusting with sinful impiety and wickedness as they touched themselves and each other, rubbing against each other in frottage; licking their fellow dancers’ outstretched bodies in the most intimate parts.

The angelic one fell to the ground and looked up in dismay and disbelief at the scandalous and outrageous behavior of her demonic sisters. They surrounded her, grabbed and snatched at her clothing, tearing at her tutu and costume with grim faces that showed only sadistic pleasure in her sufferance. Now completely naked and beaten, she pleaded for mercy, for clemency that never came as they each took turns abusing her, crushing her against their dripping wet cunts, masturbating themselves on her tear-stained face.

“Oh my fucking god … this is so hot!” another couple of shadowy figures joined Vanitha and Stephanie.

She felt two new pairs of hands roam around her breasts and a mouth descended upon each of her sensitized nipples. It was Vanitha’s older daughters, Tamanna and Sadhamayi. Her hands search out their pussies as they both thrust urgently against her palm as she squeezed their thick clits.

To the sound of a fire-breathing dragon and the heartbeat of something evil, on the stage, the noir dancers humiliated and degraded the broken angel. Each demon laughed and spat, taking turns to squat across the angel’s miserable upturned face, while others began to baldly urinate over her crumpled body, drenching her in the stench of piss.

Vanitha, Tamanna, and Sadhamayi make ready Stephanie, for the final and most violent act of this shameful dance of corruption. The dark dancers joined the audience in the demonic orgy leaving the piss-drenched girl naked and debased. Stephanie stepped forward onto the fiery stage wearing an enormous black strap-on cock.

Seeing Stephanie approach, the angelic girl got up from the floor and tried to run, but Stephanie grabbed her piss-wet body from behind and dragged her backward to the front of the stage. Turning so that the both of them were facing the audience, Stephanie lifted up the struggling girl and began to impale her on the length of the huge fake cock, using both her body weight and her own upward thrusting motions to bury the long latex cock deep into the screaming girl’s virgin pussy.

The audience went wild! Yelping and screaming in the throws of their own personal ecstasy as Stephanie thrust up and down without any regard, as she continued to object rape the girl that dangled against her like a rag doll …


To be continued?


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