DECONSECREATION CHAPTER 8
"For only in destroying do I find peace for my relentless thoughts."
My little brother intermittently punches my balls as he tells his violent stories. When he takes a break and I'm not busy focusing on the ecstasy his fists provide me, I feel a bit sorry for him and the abuse he endured under our father's roof. He came away with a pretty grotesque penis and violent sexual needs that rival my own. That knowledge has created an intense symbiosis now between the two of us. Our mutual need to inflict pain during sex and on genitals, in particular, provides a platform for our violent, loving interaction. I will take anything from him and do anything for him. He will destroy our father by destroying me and I will understand and experience my own pain as that of our father's deserved punishment.
There are suddenly noises outside the church. I am released from my bondage on the altar as the Master says, "It appears we have company. I believe they are finally coming to level the church. We should go quickly. Klaus, bring the car. Willie, get this lad's clothes and throw whatever you boys want to take in the boot. Hurry. The rest of you head for the garage." He pauses and says to me, "And Boy, don't touch yourself in the car or you'll end up straight jacketed in the boot. Understand?" I nod. Will I ever get to cum?
When we exit the rear door of the church, Klaus is waiting with an ancient Mercedes limousine, windows tinted, smoothly idling at the foot of the rear steps. The Master, wearing a jacket with a cowl, takes the front seat while the rest of us pile into the back, occupying the bench and jump seats. As the limo pulls out on the main road we see a crane with a huge steel ball waiting its call to action. Other various implements of the churches destruction also prepare for their assault on the old building. The leveling will be over in a half day, even with a coffee break at ten. It is sad for me imagine the end of this place of ecstasy where my life changed so dramatically. It will be gone by tomorrow, though, without a trace, without a concern for the souls who suffered here.
The Master and Klaus (aka hitchhiker) are in the front seat separated from us by a heavy glass partition. We are all quiet for the first minutes of the trip, waiting, I think for the Master to break the silence and tell us of our destination. I am sitting across from my brother and slowly, as we drive on in silence, he unbuttons his 501s and pulls out his disfigured, still immature cock and, catching my eye, points his finger at my mouth and then to his crotch. I am on my knees in a second, taking the scarred, bent organ in my mouth. I can feel the scars, and in them our father's love, raspy against my tongue as I begin to suck. He pushes my head down with a force fueled by his resentment of my very existence and soon his entire cock is in my throat. He face fucks me harder and harder while I gag and slobber uncontrollably . He shoots even harder, filling my mouth and throat with a huge wad of surprisingly sweet cum. The boy called Willie, sitting next to Martin in the other jump seat, motions me to come over to him. I still have a huge mouthful of cum. His motions make it clear I am to share the bounty with him so when he opens his mouth I release the mass of cum in my mouth to his in a sticky, sloppy kiss. He pushes me away and turns to the next boy, repeating the process until all have had a share of Martin's massive discharge. The last boy, called Albert, his face shiny with my brother's semen, whispers that it's better than stopping at MacDonalds. We all nod in agreement.
The window between us and the front seat occupants lowers silently and we all wait for the Master's words. He does not disappoint. "Are you boys being naughty back there? There is punishment for naughty boys where we are going. Yes, my little imps, punishment enough for all. We will be in the car for another hour or so before we arrive at my estate. There all your desires for the various aspects of pain and humiliation can be satisfied, all of your perverse needs met and where I will watch as each of you dances to agony's soft music. Until then, I would appreciate fewer slurping noises from the back seat."
At "slurping noises," Willie starts to giggle. He tries to stifle himself with a hand over his mouth but it is too late. The Master says to Klaus, "Pull over when you can. We have to attend to some disciplinary needs." As the car crunches on the gravel shoulder the Master jumps casually from the still moving vehicle, goes to the boot and produces the aforementioned straight jacket. He throws it to us and says, "Put him in it. Now. When it's on securely we will begin the punishment I promised you. We're a bit ahead of schedule but that's all the better, isn't it?" Willie doesn't struggle much. I guess he knows the futility of such efforts to defy the Master.
The roadside here is a thicket of stinging nettles which the Master gathers, seemingly impervious to their venom. "Open his pants, the Master says to me. Show us the cock and balls his thoughtlessness has exposed to my disappointment. Yes, young man. You are a disappointment. A boy never giggles at the Master if he has any sense at all. Perhaps you will have more next time. Albert, suck his cock until it's hard enough to feel pain in every neuron. Then keep your hand over his mouth" Albert follows orders and Willie is quickly rock hard, the thought of the nettles both arousing and frightening. The Master strips the leaves from a long stalk of nettles and shoves the stem roughly into all eight inches of Willie's erect cock. Willie writhes as best he can, straight jacketed and belted as he is into the seat, while the Master works the stem in and out of the little mouth of his cock, simultaneously massaging Willie's distended urethra so that every tiny needle finds a home. The Master extracts the bloodied stem and throws it to the road side. He chooses four or five large leaves from the pile at his feet, retracts Willie's foreskin, wraps then around the head of Willie's cock and rolls the foreskin back. Knowing instinctively what is needed, Klaus hands the Master a clothespin which he attaches to Willie's stretched and gathered foreskin. He shoves the whole business back into Willie's pants, zips them up and is back in the front seat in a second. The Master is very quick. We cruise back on to the road with Willie whimpering silently at the continuous suffering of his cock.
We cruise the autobahn silently for the next hour. We all have to piss but no one has the balls to ask for a rest stop. A road sign announces the approach of the Belgian border and Klaus exits the autobahn, heading south on an increasingly narrow auxiliary road. He turns again on to a poorly paved road, its bumpiness a major challenge to our bladders, though all of us remain silent. The setting sun is blood red in the west, coloring us all in ocher as we finally pull into the weed covered driveway of an old country house. "Get out," the Master says. He drops his cowl and removes his shirt, standing naked from the waist up and his black/red skin is more red in hue than I have seen it. This being, whoever or whatever he may be, is, in more than one way, incredibly hot. He seems to glow translucently from some internal source as he looks us over slowly, like one might study a rack of roasted chickens before deciding on a dinner choice.
This time he chooses Willie with his poor clothes pinned cock. "Naked and on your knees, Willie," the Master says. Willie strips to just his clothes pin, which dangles from his confined foreskin, through which I can see outlined the crumpled leaves of the nettles covering his tightly bound glans. He kneels, as instructed. The Master rummages a minute in the boot before producing a black leather riding crop which he holds momentarily in his left hand before raising and bringing it down smartly on the clothes pin. Willie squeals like a sow being slaughtered as the pin goes flying and the Master viscously strikes Willie's hardening cock again and again until purple bruises appear on the stiff shaft. Then it is over. The Master turns and preceded by Klaus, walks toward the house, saying over his shoulder, "Piss on him, all of you. Wash away his shame." As the Master goes into the House, we empty our tormented bladders on Willie who, open mouthed, drinks what he can and uses the rest to wash the nettles off his swollen cockhead as streams of urine run down his face and torso.
Trailing behind Klaus and the Master, the four of us enter the house through a dark foyer and then into a short hallway, off which there are two passages. Having no indication of where Klaus and the Master went, we try the right passage.
We immediately find ourselves in the library. The other boys find the large, musty room uninteresting and wander off to explore the rest of the house. I am fascinated by the ancient books that line the floor to ceiling shelves. The dusty spines show titles in Latin, German and in languages I don't recognize but which look vaguely Eastern European. I studied Latin in school so I pull down one title, "Septima Circulo", a detailed description, it turns out, of the treatment of sodomites in Dante's version of hell. With some difficulty, I read a few pages, fascinated by Dante's description of the tortures awaiting the damned. Suddenly I am not alone. The Master stands behind me, his breath and body heat overpowering in intensity . I can smell the vaguely sulfurous smell his body emits when he is aroused and I know it signals approaching danger. I am ready for it. I crave his heavy touch, his attraction to my pain, his desire to fill me with fear and longing. Remaining at my back, he reaches a hand between my legs, long tapering fingers grasping my cock and balls, sending heat and electric shock through my package and into my prostate. My genitals are on fire and my prostate contracts as though I have a taser firing up my ass. I am drowning in precum but paralyzed with pain as he says, "Why read about it, little man, when we can visit it like a couple of American tourists?"
I am unable to speak as he lifts me by my soggy crotch and carries me like a piece of luggage through the far door of the library and down a flight of stairs. We descend, endlessly it seems, eventually arriving in a chamber filled with growling and howls of pain. I am thrown to the floor where I curl into the fetal position letting the pain in my groin abate. In the red light that fills the chamber I can see a man chained, naked, on all fours being sodomized by an enormous dog. The animal fucks him wildly, his jaws clamped on the man's bleeding neck, the knot of his cock ripping in and out of his anus. The man's howls of pain mingle with the animal's grunts and growls. The great dog ejaculates in a final frenzied thrust accompanied by an ear splitting howl and a brittle scream from the man, as the dog's knot rips out of his ass a final time. Dog semen mingled with the man's blood runs from his ass in a torrent, the dog lapping it up before turning to the man's genitals, hanging vulnerably, like pale fruit, from his crotch. The man screams again as the dog fastens his teeth to the his cock and balls, ripping them with a shaking of his great head until they begin to free themselves from his body. The man sobs uncontrollably as the dog runs off with his prizes, leaving behind an empty sack and a stump where there was once a cock.
I am spellbound by this performance. As I blink and catch my breath, I see the man restored to his unmutilated, unviolated state, again on his knees, waiting. The dog returns.
The Master says, "Had you read further, you would have seen Dante's description of Charlemagne's punishment in the seventh circle of hell. But as I said, seeing the performance, repeated here endlessly through eternity, offers a more thorough view of Dante's vision. According to Dante, much of the seventh circle is reserved for sodomites, and while Charlemagne was not noted historically as a sodomite, it was common knowledge at his court that he always had a young boy available in a special chamber should that particular appetite beset him. The boys, when the king tired of them, went to the master of the hounds who delighted in his dogs' willingness to perform for him and his friends. Probably not something you might have seen on the History Channel though, humm?"
My balls and prostate still ache as I respond in understatement that no, I hadn't seen anything quite like that on TV or anywhere, for that matter. The Master continues, "Perhaps we should make one more stop here before put our tourist visas aside for a time and return to your friends. We can always come again." I follow him obediently, giving Charlemagne and his best friend a wide berth just as the dog makes his first powerful thrust.
In time we come to the banks of a wide, dark river that bubbles and hisses past huts that line its banks. "These are the huts of the interrogators, the Master says." He continues, "I think we'll stop at number three which, if I'm not mistaken, is home to a couple of priests once integral to the smooth functioning of the Portuguese Inquisition. They'll be spending the next thousand years or so here with one of my colleagues who is working to perfect the techniques they developed to please the Pope. The Popes are in hut fifteen but I'm afraid we won't have time for a visit them today. But let us see what's going on here. You should find it interesting, a Catholic boy like yourself.
The door of the hut opens and a tall, caramel skinned man joins us. He is naked and powerfully built. Lines of scar tissue, some of which end in horn like protrusions, form a pattern across his broad chest, face and hairless head. A four inch pentagram tattoo between his navel and base of his cock highlights his hairless groin and draws the eye toward his broad cock and pendulous balls. He bows deeply, and says to the Master, "We are honored that you have chosen to visit our humble hut, Master. Have you come to observe; or have you specific questions, or perhaps you wish to observe or be part of a specific procedure? And this toothsome boy," he continues looking me over with the practiced eye of an anatomist. "Have you brought me an intern? I so enjoyed the little German soldier. Such a natural calling for the work."
The Master chuckles. "You trained him well, Balor. I have much use for the skills you taught our little Klaus. Do you remember our first visit here?" "Indeed," replies Balor. "I don't think he was prepared for an orgy with four red robed, eight hundred year old priests. But I have to say, he acquitted himself well once he got into the rhythm of things. It was such fun to watch, wasn't it Master?" "Indeed it was, replies the Master. But what do you have for us today, Balor? The boy here is a natural recipient of your craft, especially when bad things happen to his cock. Have you developed anything new that might delight us all?"
Balor replies, "Well Master, you know we strive for innovation here. I've instructed our current intern to bring an additional cross just for the boy. We'll put him between the two priests, wire them together and see who can make the others scream the loudest. Please be my guest if you wish to participate. Now, I have a cage of starving bats to begin with. Perhaps you would like to place them? You have a fondness for the little creatures, as I recall."