Chapter Text
Ding, dong, ding, dong,
Ding, dong, ding, dong.
Ding, dong, ding, dong:
In a white-brick suburban house on Poplar Street, the sound of Westminster chimes echoed from the wall clock in the living room downstairs. The sing-song of the bells tolled a quarter till twelve. For most of the house's residents, the late night chimes were a forgettable nuisance, easily tuned out by their sleeping ears. But in the last bedroom down the hall, one precocious little mouse was already stirring. As the tinkling bells faded, a pair of green eyes opened and stared at the pitched ceiling of the bedroom. Almost midnight. Surely, everyone else would be asleep by now. It was time for Hayden to prepare.
He lay there half asleep, blinking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. It had been a long day at school - it was a Friday, so the morning had begun in the chapel for school-wide mass. As one of the altar boys (since the 3rd grade), Hayden had to arrive at school early in the morning to get changed and prepare for the service.
But this wasn't just any Friday. This was a special Friday. It was still only October, so the mass was a standard service for Ordinary Time. But as Hayden had knelt on the chapel floor, bowed his head before the Eucharist and rang the bell at the moment of consecration, the sound had sent shivers down his spine. His eyes were fixed on the host, but his heart was already pulling him away towards idolatry. As he had knelt before God, his Priest, and all his friends, he was internally preparing for an even more important altar service yet to come. One that could only be performed at the hour of midnight on Friday the 13th.
Now, alone in the midnight dark of his bedroom, it was time for Hayden to begin his ritual.
Hayden slipped back the covers and slid his slender legs out and onto the floor. The white sheets fell away from his body like the altar boy's robes he had stripped off earlier that day, revealing his nakedness.
He was small for his age, both short and skinny. While he was now twelve-and-a-half, many people still mistakenly believed him to be a 6th grader, or even in Elementary School still. It was an easy mistake to make, since St. Andrew's Catholic School had boys of all ages in one building.
Hayden was one of the prettier boys, although he didn't realize it. His blond hair was swept up and away from his forehead into an adorable forelock that both made him feel cute and marked him instantly as a little faggot twink. It had been brighter when he was younger, like pure gold. Sunshine, his Dad used to call him. By twelve it had dulled to a darker bronze, though still brightened and streaked by the sun. His eyes were just like his mother's, jade green and sparkling, deep at the edges but bright in the center, in a way that made his smile seem lit from within.
His body was like his mother's, too. While most of Hayden's older brothers were tall, hairy, and built like their father, a red blooded American jock, Hayden looked like a male copy of his mother. His arms and legs had none of the muscle and definition of his football playing brothers; he was built more like a slender young fawn. There was a fragility to his frame, like a colt taking its first steps. His chest was flat, obviously, but he had the same skinny waist and curved hips as his older sisters.
Hayden knew that on a girl, these would be called "child bearing hips," a term that always secretly made him blush and squirm, though he wasn't sure why. He knew he couldn't bear a child, even in his wildest dreams. His stomach was flat and barely toned, the soft smooth body of a preteen not yet fully transformed by puberty. No trail of hair yet led down his belly button and into his red Hanes briefs.
The bulge in the front of these was scarcely worth commenting on. Hayden was always blushing in the underwear section at Target, wondering when he might look like the men on the packages. The ones who really filled out the front of their briefs. Even more, he wondered what it would be like to touch those full, heavy pouches. To sniff them. Rub his face into them. But Hayden's little bulge just didn't measure up to those he kept eyeing.
His ass, however, was another story. While still small, it looked perfect on his frame: round and perky, with little dimples over each glute. It filled out his red briefs and spilled out the bottom, the hems riding up to expose half of each perfect white cheek, the fabric bunching in his crack and ticking his hole.
Hayden was especially proud of his hole. He knew from the porn he had found online that men valued boys with tight, pink, pretty pussies. Virgins were in high demand: every jock at school seemed to love bragging about popping virgin cherry. Hayden wished some of them were interested in him. He knew he could be what they wanted, if they would just. Pretend. Even if they were straight, he knew his hole could be what they wanted, anyway. A tight, warm, willing place for men to dump a load of cum into.
His hole seemed to beg for it. Even long before he had understood what that feeling meant, he had noticed it twitching and aching, feeling so warm and itchy when he looked at the kind of men he now knew sexually aroused him. Masculine, powerful, Men. Men like his sisters’ boyfriends, like his school's varsity quarterback, Maxx. Men like his best friend's older brother, Keiran. Men like his father.
It was that insatiable feeling in his untouched young hole that had driven him from the comfort of his bed into the drafty air of his bedroom at a quarter till midnight.
In most respects, Hayden was a typical boy for his age. He loved all the same things as his friends: swimming, soccer, hiking, camping. He took his iPod everywhere, always listening to Maroon 5, Linkin Park, or Imagine Dragons. If he wasn't riding bikes with the neighborhood kids, he was over at their houses playing Mario, Halo, or God of War. Violent games didn't bother him: he had started watching horror movies way too young, and was no stranger to gory slaughter. Only one interest really separated him from his peers: his unshakable interest in men and their cocks.
He was always trying to be the perfect son, the perfect student, and the perfect Christian. He served God at school, at work, and in his home. He obeyed his Father and Mother, and tried his best to live life by the rules. But try as he might, his little preteen pussy had a mind of its own, and it was aching to serve another master. It filled him with an animalistic desire for cock, growing like a warm furnace deep in his belly and making him act out against the carefully constructed moral order that restrained his young sexuality. Hayden tried his best to be a good boy, but his pussy was a bad girl, and she was always hungry.
Unfortunately for Hayden and his hungry hole, the odds were stacked against him. He was a child: forbidden fruit to the kinds of cocks he was lusting over. Men with big heavy bulges like the ones from his underwear aisle. Other boys his age didn't interest him at all, but he was incapable of looking at an adult male without undressing him with his eyes, staring too long at his crotch, wondering what he tasted like, smelled like, felt like. Wondering what it would feel like inside Hayden's body. No man was off limits to those lustful little green eyes - they had sinned against his Priest, his teachers, his coaches, even his own brothers and father. Especially his father. But none of those men's eyes looked back at Hayden's little body in the same way. Maybe they were afraid of the consequences, or maybe, worse still, they just didn't want him. Not like that. Not the way his twelve year-old body was screaming to be wanted by a real man.
If being jailbait wasn't enough of a challenge, there was that whole other issue. While Hayden's parents were liberal enough on the surface, they had made sure he was brought up right, and he knew deep in his heart that being gay was wrong. Raised in Catholic school since he could remember, Hayden had been an altar boy for years, and was on track to become an acolyte. Serving Jesus was everything he knew and valued. Even if a man was interested in Hayden the way he wanted, he wasn't sure how to handle the guilt and pressure of disappointing himself, his parents, and his God. He spend so much time and energy hiding his sexual thoughts, ashamed of what a fag he was.
And, oh, what a faggot he was. He wasn't homophobic or anything. Other boys might be gay, and that was fine. They might be bi, tops, vers, open, questioning, flexible, whatever they wanted to call it. A few kids in his class were so uninhibited about such things, being queer right out in the open. But Hayden knew deep down that he was different. He wasn't like those boys. He was a faggot. He was something less than other males, inferior and submissive. He was something shameful that he knew had to stay hidden away, like a boy locked in a basement. A dirty secret. If anyone knew how bad he really needed to be fucked and abused, they'd never love him.
He knew he wasn't very good at hiding it, though. The way some men looked at him, it was like he had the word FAG written across his forehead in glowing pink neon or sparkly lip gloss. Those looks burned through him and left marks on his soul. He could feel the disgust, the pity, even the fear as they turned away from him and shook their heads judgmentally.
He tried to change his voice to be deeper. He tried to stand evenly on both feet instead of letting his hips settle to the side. He tried to sit with boys at lunch more. He had already stopped bringing his favorite mermaid lunchbox to school when he was still only a 4th grader. He tried out for soccer instead of musical theatre, although his coach treated him like nothing but a bench warmer. He spent hours carefully editing himself to remove his shameful secret, but try as he might to play the role of a masculine straight Catholic boy, he still kept receiving those dirty glances from judgmental adults and peers alike. He was beginning to wonder if those neon letters he was afraid of were real. Something kept giving him away as a fag no matter how he tried to deny it.
So it was that Hayden found himself awake and almost naked, creeping through his own room at midnight to turn on his computer and load up Tumblr.
Porn had become his refuge. Hiding his sexuality had pushed him into darker and more perverted corners of the internet, where needy little gay boys like him weren't shamed, but prized. While he'd have been mortified to have anyone in his real life know he was gay, online Hayden had dozens of followers, and he was following hundreds of pervs. His favorites were the blogs who posted naughty captions underneath the pictures, the kind that let Hayden know they were thinking about boys his age. Sometimes he would chat with them, on Kik or Snap, although he never mentioned his nams or his exact age. Neither did the kind of men he liked to talk to, who all seemed to prefer just to go by “Daddy.”
Hayden brought up his liked posts and quickly scrolled down. A flood of giant cocks flashed across his laptop screen: hard cocks standing up and angrily throbbing, heavy cocks hanging fat and dripping, thick cocks pumping in and out of too-small silicone holes. Fuck. He had went on a spree earlier, liking dozens and dozens of posts of hung men fucking and cumming. They were distracting him from his search, but he couldn't resist pausing to stare at some of them, letting the images of the giant cocks bore into his eyes and imprint in his young brain. Hayden felt the warm feeling in his stomach sizzle and grow into a fire as he scrolled, the cocks dancing in his eyes. Fuck. He couldn't let himself get cock-drunk now. He was on a mission.
Finally, he found it. He had bookmarked a post from his very favorite page, a gay blasphemy blog called GayDemonDaddy. Normally, the account posted digital art and manipulated photos. Gay men bound on Catholic altars with crucifixes stuffed in their holes, demonic monsters sitting on thrones with heavy dripping cocks, faggot slaves chained and being groped and pawed at by clawed hands and red angry devil cocks. Those images lit the fire in Hayden's stomach like nothing else. They were the perfect combination of his two halves; the dark side destroying the light. The perfect little altar boy becoming the faggot he always dreamed of being. Being fucked in what looked like a church, bound in the service of Hell. But earlier that week, he had stumbled across another post deep in the blog's archives: a text post titled "How to give your soul to Satan." Reading that had made his preteen hole throb and twitch like nothing before.
Unlike the usual images of blasphemous porn, this post was entirely different. It was a text post which held instructions for a Satanic gay sex ritual. If Hayden offered his young body and soul up for infernal service, maybe Satan would do what God had not: answer his prayers. Affirm his desires. Send demons and men to touch him and hold him and transform his life through the sexual awakening he dreamed of. It seemed unbelievable, but. He had to try.
If he was doomed to be a secretly gay little kid who couldn't have sex with real men, he would just have to try having sex with demons.
If God would never love him as a fag, maybe Satan could.
Hayden's cock throbbed in his briefs, tenting the red fabric as his tip leaked into the material. His hole pulsed and twitched. The fire in his belly was burning at full strength now, and he realized his heart was pounding hard enough to leap out of his throat. Anxiety rushed over him, but was overpowered by lust. He was really going to do this. It was finally time. He couldn't miss a perfect opportunity like Friday the 13th in October. Tonight, he was going to give in to his temptations completely. With the instructions pulled on screen, Hayden got up from his desk to prepare for the ritual.
First, made sure the door was locked. He would never be able to explain what he was doing, not if he was caught red handed. Next, he opened the window a crack, the cold autumn air rushing in and caressing his naked body. The sudden chill raised goosebumps on his arms and neck. He knew this was crazy, but the post said to be sure that his space was open to the air to allow the demons freedom to enter. His red curtains fluttered in the draft, keeping prying eyes from seeing his naked preteen form, but letting in the cool wind, and whatever might be riding on it.
Next, he rolled back his rug, exposing the dark hardwood floor. He tucked the rolled up rug under his bed, where his teddy bear, his blanket, and other mementos of his childhood were kept safe and hidden in a cardboard box.
From the box, he drew out the supplies he had stashed there earlier in the week as he prepared for his big night. The first few items were innocent enough: a box of sidewalk chalk stolen from the garage, and some red pillar candles taken from the advent wreaths in the basement storage. Those, he had had to search hard for, unable to tell his mom why he was looking for the Christmas decorations even before Halloween. But he needed everything to be perfect, and his gut told him red candles would be better. More effective. More likely to work.
Next, he reached into the box and pulled out a matte silver brick like an oversized walkman. A Sony video camera. Not a digital camcorder, but an older model which recorded onto micromv tape. It had been top of the line when it was new, back when Hayden was a baby. Maybe even before. In his father's hands, it had recorded his first steps, his birthday parties, his little childhood skits and talent show dances, and countless other childhood memories.
Now, he wanted to use it to record something else; the end of his childhood. The offering of his virginity to Satan.
He wasn't sure what he would ever do with footage like that. He could never show it to anyone, both his shame and the law forbid it. He would die if his family ever found it. Though he was a flirty little slut, he was far too shy to ever send real pictures or videos of himself to the pervs he talked to online. Those chats weren't real. They were just fantasy, isolated moments of sin that he kept separate from his real world. But he needed this moment to be real. To be captured and separated from his mundane life, like a butterfly on a pin. Perfect and preserved. He needed to keep this moment sacred somehow, even if that meant locking the tape up in a box or hiding it under his mattress.
Hayden placed the video camera on his desk, flipped the LCD screen around to face himself, and pressed record. A red light began to flash, blinking on and off, signaling that the camera was watching and remembering. Hayden took his laptop and placed it on the floor by his desk chair, within easy reach of his ritual space.
As the camera watched, Hayden took a broken piece of red chalk and carefully sketched out the pentacle design on his floor - first a circle a little over a meter across, then a star with five points weaving around the circle's rim like a Celtic knot. Checking the image in the Tumblr post, he carefully wrote the five names along the circle in between each point. Belial. Baalzevul. Azazel. Samael. And finally, between the top two points, Molech. He didn't know what the names meant, or even how to read or pronounce them. The script was alien to him, and as he copied the twisting, angular letters on the screen one by one, he felt like he was drawing rather than writing the strange symbols. Still, he made sure every character was perfect. There was no room for error tonight.
At each point of the circle, he placed one of the red pillar candles, lighting them with a plastic BIC lighter he had found on the sidewalk outside school. One by one, he kindled the flames, until his room flickered eerily in the soft glow. The candlelight fell on the foreign characters marked on the ritual circle, making the alien letters seem to dance and twist in the half-dark. The only other light came from the pale blue glow of the laptop screen, where the words of the ritual were waiting to be read aloud by a willing participant. In the dark, the steady red blink of the camera kept watch.
Finally, there was only one thing left. Hayden reached into the box again, and removed his last and most important ritual tool - a dildo. He had stolen it from his older sister Katie's room, a lucky find when he was secretly playing with her old Bratz dolls. It was black, with a suction cup and a pair of balls at the base. A cheap toy that probably came from Amazon or Spencer's. A girl's first toy. It was only about 6 inches long. Hayden wished it were bigger... And red, especially for tonight. Red like the skin of the Devil. But black and six inches would have to be close enough.
Hayden knew his ritual might leave a mess, between the chalk, the candle wax, and his own emissions. He knew the absence of the video camera and the candles would be noticed eventually, and the missing dildo was probably already making Katie furious, not to mention incredibly suspicious. But he would deal with that later. It wasn't like she could tell on him. He would sneak everything back into place before morning, and cover the mess with his rug until he could clean it thoroughly. By now, midnight was approaching, and it was now or never.
At the last second, Hayden remembered to remove his necklace. His fingers brushed through his hair as he reached for the back of his slender neck with both hands, his fingers struggling with the silver clasp at the nape of his neck. Finally, the latch unclasped and the chain slipped free of his neck. A silver medal of Saint Michael the archangel dangled from his right hand, a gift from his father to keep him safely on the right path and spirtually protected. But spiritual protection was the last thing he needed right now, if he wanted this ritual to work. He dropped the necklace in a pile on his nightstand, telling himself he would slip it back on before bed.
Stepping carefully across the outline of the chalk circle, Hayden carefully knelt in the center of the pentagram, laying the toy in front of him.
A breeze picked up outside and crept through the window with a hissing sound, making the curtains float open. The moonlight briefly illuminated a twisted branch from outside the window, like a clawed hand reaching in towards the kneeling child. His heart raced. He could feel it pounding in his chest, hear it throbbing in his eardrums. The breeze dropped back to a quiet whisper, and the curtains drifted shut. The candles flickered, then stilled. The camera blinked red in the half-dark.
Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.
Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.
Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.
Bong.
The clock struck midnight. Hayden counted each strike of the bells as they vibrated through his kneeling body. Nine times. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
Thirteen? He must have lost count. He was anxious, that was all. Steeling his nerve, Hayden swallowed.
He placed the black dildo in front of him, just inside the boundary of the circle, between the two bottom points of the star. It stood erect, its suction cup base gripping the dark hardwood. Almost trembling with desire, Hayden placed his palms on the floor and bowed, prostrating himself and touching his forehead to the ground before the dark cock.
Head still bowed low before the object of his lust, Hayden's lips began to move. His breath never rose above a whisper, voice cracking as he choked out the words he had read a hundred times over the last week. He didn't even need to check the screen for this part. He had already etched the words deep into his mind as he constantly reread that post, and now it was time to offer them aloud to his new God.
“Satan, I do invite You into my heart. I Invite You into every corner of my mind. Send Your demons to dwell in my body and soul, to fill me with lust and perversion. Accept this faggot, body and soul, as a vessel for Your will. Possess me with Your Evil Spirit, and corrupt my life with lust and abuse. I give my heart to You, Dark Lord. Satan, I trust in You.”
Shaking with need, Hayden looked up. The toy dominated his vision. The shadows magnified the cock as it stood erect in the darkness. The anxious knot in his stomach was melting into a warmth that spread through his insides like alcohol. His lust was pushing him onwards.
He crept forward on his hands and knees, inching closer until his mouth was almost touching the head of the silicone cock. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his tongue until it met the head of the toy.
That was enough. As his mouth connected with the cock, the rest of his coltish inhibition melted, and his pretenses collapsed. His lips closed around the cock head, and he sunk deep, his forehead pressed into the ground, his throat stuffed with cock.
Finally. He could almost cry.
It felt so right to be sucking dick, even if it was just a toy. It was still a cock. It was still for fucking pussy. And tonight, he was that pussy.
Blushing, Hayden realized as he licked and nursed on the cock head that pussy was exactly what he was tasting. That made him feel ashamed. Dirty. Pathetic. But even more, he couldn't believe how turned-on he was. It wasn't the taste itself exactly… It was the idea of sucking a straight cock.
He was always crushing on the boyfriends his sisters brought home. Wishing they would show him some attention back. Wishing he could be their little girl. As he licked the taste of his sister's pussy off the toy, he pretended it wasn't just a dildo, but a real cock, attached to a boyfriend or hookup of his sister who had come into his room for a second round of fun. The idea of being so close to a real man who fucked real pussy that the taste was in his mouth was driving him wild. God, he was such a faggot. But, he would be a straight man's slave for life, just for the lucky chance to suck him clean. To be the fag licking that divine superior cock right after he breeds girlcunt like a real man.
His dicklet strained, tenting the red fabric of his Hanes briefs. His hole pulsed and twitched with need. He bounced his head up and down, forcing his throat deeper around the toy until his lips were kissing the balls on the downstroke. He needed to get every inch of it as wet as he could: he hadn't been able to find any lube in Katie's room. Maybe girls didn't need lube, but Hayden knew from porn that boys getting fucked did need it, or it would hurt.
But it wasn't just concern for his young hole that drove him down again and again to choke on the jet black cock, lubing it with his throat slime. In his heart, Hayden was worshiping Satan himself. Bowing into the lap of a Dark Father who might actually accept him as a fag, if only because that made him a useful little fucktoy to rape and abuse. A Faustian bargain - selling his dignity and humanity, his young body, his very soul, to the Devil - in exchange only for the permission to finally be what he was already doomed to be.
A worthless little faggot whore.
This thought kept him down longer than ever before. Hayden felt his lungs, totally empty, distantly shouting at him to come up for air. He felt his throat convulsing and squeezing, threatening to betray him and FORCE out the intruder that was making him so uncomfortable, along with the entire contents of his stomach. He shut out the urge to gag. He shut off his brain totally. Lying face down, he choked on the toy, his throat spasming and pouring up sticky wet slime like a libation. His eyes watered, and his ears rang. Still, something held him down, like an invisible hand on the back of his head. He needed to suck to impress. He needed Satan to know his offering was real. He needed to suffer to earn the love and lust he dreamed about. As much as his body screamed for him to take the cock out of his throat, his mind begged for it to push further in.
As Hayden lay there struggling with himself, face down and choking, crushing his nose into the floor as he forced himself all the way down, the wind crept through the cracked window again, rustling the curtains. The sound raised his hackles in fear, but his sexual need was too great. He kept sucking.
Crash!
A shattering noise broke him out of the spell. Someone was in the room. Something was behind him. Horrified, Hayden jerked upright, the cock leaving his throat with a sickly wet slurp. His hands flew to the little bulge in his briefs, covering the shameful wet spot he suddenly realized was there. Strings of throat slime dripped from his swollen lips as he panted, connecting him to his rubber master. Slowly, he turned his head and looked back over his shoulder.
The door was still shut and locked. No one had entered. On the little shelf by his door, the last few books had toppled over, knocking a ceramic statue of the Virgin to the floor. It lay in pieces next to his school Bible on the ground. Hayden's heart raced. Fuck. His mom would flip about that statue. And he knew it was wrong for the Scripture to be left on the floor like that… but… that was far from the worst thing happening in his bedroom tonight. He shook his head. It must have been the wind. Or just a freak of gravity. He would worry about that later.
Right now, he had a date with the Devil.
He took the toy from in front of him and repositioned it at the very center of his pentagram. Right beneath his kneeling twelve year-old body. With the dildo mounted firmly under him, Hayden blushed shyly as he reached down and slid his briefs aside to reveal his hole.
It was perfect. Untouched. As pink as bubble gum, the size of a cheerio between his lily white cheeks. Completely hairless. It sparkled faintly in the candle light. Before going to bed, Hayden had made sure he was perfectly clean, and then coated his boy pussy lips in his favorite strawberry chapstick. He wanted to make sure the cock slid in easily, but… He knew this was dumb, that no one was really going to lick it, but Hayden also wanted it to taste good. To be perfect. Like a ripe little cherry for Satan to pluck out of a bowl, chew up, and spit out.
Nothing had ever yet been inside him. Not there. He had rubbed his little kidpussy while watching porn, sure, pushed on his little boy button… but he had been too nervous before to really penetrate himself. Wouldn't it hurt? It might be gross… He wasn't even sure why he needed it so bad, why he was doing all this right now. He knew it was wrong for boys to get fucked like girls. But it was too late to turn back. The hunger in his hole was begging for fulfillment. The fire in his lower belly was screaming for something, anything, to go inside him. By this point, his preteen sexuality was on autopilot, and Hayden's mind was just along for the ride. He was going to destroy his innocence tonight and give his virginity as an offering to Satan. That's what had brought him here, after all. The hormones racing through his young fag brain and body corrupted him like a bitch in heat, until all he could do was helplessly crawl to cock and beg to be useful to it.
He knelt lower and lower, until his little strawberry hole was barely kissing the head of the slimy black toy. He hovered there, blushing shyly. After this he wouldn't be a virgin anymore… he was about to become a big kid. A faggot slut. A whore for Satan.
His hole had a mind of its own, and soon his hips were circling and grinding against the cockhead. He couldn't wait much longer. He looked back to the laptop screen, where more dark liturgy from the ritual awaited him. His voice barely above a whisper, he read aloud.
“Dark Father, Enthroned in Hell, unholy be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Hell. Give me this day Your demonic seed, and accept me as a vessel for Your perversion and lust. Lead me down the paths of temptation, and deliver me into the hands of evil. For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever, Amen.”
Bowing his head, Hayden made the sign of the cross over himself in reverse, touching his right shoulder, then left, his chest, then his forehead.
Still looking down, Hayden lowered himself and pushed. He felt the pressure against his little hole grow and grow, and then, suddenly, he slipped down. The head was inside. Its flared helmet shape stretched him wide just inside his lips. Hayden winced as his hole adjusted to being stretched for the first time, then continued reading.
“Salve, Lucifer, Deus Inferni.
Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te.”
Every cell of his young body seemed to glow brighter than the candle flames. He was so turned on. Utterly alive. Ignoring the burning pain in his hole, he pushed himself lower onto the toy, and picked up the pillar candle in front of him. Leaning backwards to expose his stomach, he carefully dripped the hot wax onto himself.
Fuck. It burned. It hurt far more than Hayden had expected from seeing it in porn. The heat felt like a knife cutting his belly open, but as the wax cooled, the pain quickly faded, and Hayden could see no permanent damage was done.
The red wax shone on his stomach like blood. To Hayden, it was demonic cum, marking him as their whore. The pain was just another part of his sexual offering to the demons in exchange for rewarding him with seed. He continued.
“Salve, Belial, Deus Inferni.
Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te.”
The chant set the rhythm for Hayden as he began to bounce up and down, each thrust sending his pussy down deeper into hell, each line he chanted forcing his brain and body deeper onto demon cock. Again he raised the candle above his body, and again drained it of melted wax, showering himself with demon cum, hurting because they needed him to hurt.
“Salve, Belphegor, Deus Inferni.”
He was riding steadily now, his lips clinging to the shaft of the toy as he bounced up and down. The candle was still lit, but all the liquid wax had been poured onto Hayden's belly. He placed it down at its point and grabbed another.
“Salve, Astaroth, Deus Inferni.
Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te.”
As he rode, the wax gently drizzled down like rain, sizzling as it met his skin and then setting like lava cooling back into stone.
A bead of sweat ran down his spine, and to Hayden it felt like someone standing behind him, pulling a single cold claw down the center of his back. As he arched away from the chilling sensation, he was pushed lower onto the toy. He shivered and continued.
“Salve, Bael, Deus Inferni.”
Inside him, the toy seemed to be getting hotter, maybe even growing. Hayden bounced up and down furiously, raping himself on the black silicone cock, and accidentally spilled the rest of the melted wax onto his stomach in a painful sudden gush. His mind was completely shut down by the sensations pouring through him. Only bodily instinct drove him on. He could hear his hole squishing as he rode, his cheeks plopping softly up and down against the soles of his feet. Unashamed, he kept going.
“Salve, Asmodeus, Deus Inferni.
Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te.”
He drained the candle on himself, shuddering in pain, and reached for another. Briefly he reached for his little bulge and found himself soaking wet with precum. He was shocked at how wet this was making him… so far, most of his orgasms had been dry. He had only begun leaking a little within the last few months. But he knew instinctively that a faggot should not waste time touching itself, not while it had cock to serve. He kept riding.
“Salve, Azazel, Deus Inferni.
Laudamus te, benedicimus te,
Adoramus te, glorificamus te.”
The cock inside him felt twice as big by now, easily twelve inches, and red hot. It must be from the soreness of his kidcunt bouncing up and down. With no more lube, his spit was drying up and the friction was starting to burn him. But the fire in Hayden's stomach drove him relentlessly, unconcerned by the pain in his pussy. He should feel pain. He was just a faggot getting demon fucked. He spilled more hot red wax down his body like cum, pleased that his suffering was increasing, offering his pain like a sacrifice.
“Salve, Samael!”
Grabbing another candle, Hayden emptied it on himself in one steady stream, watching it drip like a flaming cock pissing onto his worthless body. Hurting him. Defiling him.
“Salve, Leviathan!”
Helpless now, Hayden thrust himself deeper, scrambling and clutching for another candle on his desperation to hurt himself. He let it drip slowly, showering him with sparks of pain as he pushed his hole further down.
“Salve, Mammon, Deus Inferni!
As he chanted, Hayden drizzled his chest and stomach with the entire contents of the candle, a wave of pain that only poured oil on the pleasurable fire burning in his loins. He kept pouring until there was no more wax to fall, and still, he needed more. More sex. More pain. Just more.
“Salve, Beelzebub, Deus Inferni!
Hayden began to moan in between the words of the chant, his pace becoming frenzied and feverish as he continued to pleasure himself and hurt himself, no longer knowing the difference. His cunt was aching, aching from the abuse, aching for more. He had never been harder in his life. Sweat dripped down his back like a river, soaking his pussy as he rode for his life. He reached for the final candle.
“Laudamus te!”
The wax spilled across his pecs, burning his right nipple as he pushed himself down as far as he could stand.
“Benedicimus te!”
This time, he burnt his left nipple, grinding deeper.
“Adoramus te!”
The hot wax dripped and pooled in his belly button, arching his back to thrust deeper still.
“Glorificamus te!”
Hayden poured the wax down the white skin of his throat as he slipped all the way down, the wax flowing down his torso like the blood of a slaughtered lamb.
“Salve, Moloch, Deus Inferni!
Laudamus Te! Benedicimus Te,
Adoramus Te! Glorificamus Te!”
By now the words were practically an indiscernible babble as the horny kidslut furiously rode demon cock. They sounded wrong as they left his lips, as if he were sobbing, or maybe laughing. Need drove Hayden downwards, chasing the mounting feeling in his stomach. He was balls deep by now, his feet splayed to the sides as he forced his ass all the way to the floor, swallowing every inch of the toy inside his underage fag cunt. He ground his hips against it, his pussy lips kissing the balls at the base, the cock head somewhere up inside his tummy, stained red with wax like the lava-hot cum of a hundred demons had been poured onto his writhing little body.
As he danced there, his hips swirling and bouncing, the toy was stabbing into his little boy button. Full throated moans were pouring from his throat against his will as he made himself a whore for Satan. His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his head and making his face flush with need.
He drained the last candle, pouring the last of the wax onto his chest and stomach in a blinding flood of pain that overwhelmed him. He soaked himself in the burning fluid, panting as it burned his tender skin. Wishing there was MORE.
“Salve, Satanus! Deus Inferni!
Laudamus Te! Benedicimus Te!
Adoramus Te! Glorificamus Te!”
The words ripped from his throat at full volume, shouting into the night as he rode like a whore, possessed with lust.
Had he not been screaming, he might have heard the murmuring voices from the corners of his room, echoing his words in creeping whispers.
Slamming himself down one final time, his orgasm ripped through him. It was stronger than any he had ever felt jerking off, and he hadn't even touched himself. His head tilted back, his mouth opened helplessly, and a blissful groan dripped from his lips like honey as he squirted helplessly into his red briefs, now soaked and almost dripping with cum.
He had cum like a real girl. From inside his pussy. That thought blew his mind.
As he stared open-mouthed up at the ceiling, he saw sparks fly around the corners of his vision, darting like fireflies. With the toy still inside his ass, Hayden laid back, panting, his head resting just outside the circle between two candles. His back was arched, his red stained stomach presented to the ceiling like some kind of sacrificial animal on an altar, already bloodied by the knife. Carefully, he kicked his feet out from under his kneeling body, threading his arms and legs between the other candles until he was lying spread-eagle on the pentagram, his body forming a second star atop the chalk lines.
As he lay there panting, he reached his right hand into his briefs, scooping up as much of the cum as he could with his fingers. The ritual was over now, but instinct drove him on. In his helpless post-orgasmic daze, he needed to make one final offering to his Dark Lord. To baptize himself as Satan's whore.
Closing his eyes, he wiped his hand across his forehead. His hand was covered in preteen spank. It coated his eyebrows, dripped into his hair. The room was still spinning slowly, sparks still sizzling in his periphery, as he gazed hypnotized at the candlelit ceiling and spoke from the heart.
“Unholy Father, I offer You the gift of my life. As Your child is reborn in cum and the Spirit of Darkness, bind me to the covenant we make this day. Send demons to guide Your child deeper down into the pit of corruption, into the fires of lust. Accept me as a slave, to worship cock and cum above all else. Hail Satan. Amen.”
Hayden was flushed from his orgasm, shocked by the words that had left his mouth seemingly without his consent. They had come from deep in his subconscious, from memories of his little siblings’ and cousins' baptisms. Maybe even from his own, though he didn't remember it. But the words had come out wrong. Corrupted. Twisted into the service of evil. His own words startled him with the depth of how sick they were, and of how much he meant them.
As the glow of his orgasm faded, he was almost disgusted by himself, lying there with a toy still deep in his guts, his briefs and face covered in cum, his stomach red and raw and covered in wax. His heartbeat still pounced in his ears, his body flushed with the glow of his orgasm. He looked like a whore. He felt like a whore. But cleaning up would have to wait a moment. His mind was still spinning, the room reeling.
As he laid there trying to catch his breath, his body cold with sweat, he stared up at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. The shadows seemed to be growing longer and more twisted. Clawing aggressively at the ceiling from every corner. The room seemed to be spinning faster instead of slowing down. Instead of fading from his vision, the sparks at the corners of Hayden’s eyes caught on his curtains, on his bedsheets, and started to creep up the walls in sheets of flame.
Hayden's breath quickened with panic. He shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. He had to be dreaming. This was a dream. But it wasn't going away. He opened his eyes again and saw the ceiling engulfed in a sea of orange flames. The window was fully open, wind whipping around his room like a dust devil, scattering papers from his desk that caught alight and formed a maelstrom of fire around him.
Fuck. What the fuck was happening? Had the wind knocked a candle over somehow? How had the flames caught on so fast? Hayden tried to sit up, but he couldn't. Something held him fast, like a weight sitting on his chest. He could neither move nor cry out.
The chalk lines on the floor started to glow red and smoke with a foul sulfurous reek. The letters on the floor peeled up and away from the wood, rising up like snaking tongues of flame. They twisted their way around Hayden's limbs, hissing and sizzling.
Belial locked around his left ankle, chaining him into the pit; Baalzevul coiled around his right, shackling him to the abyss.
Azazel sliced around his left wrist, draining away his innocent soul. Samael bit into his right, leaking poison into his veins;
Molech closed around his throat like a collar, sealing him as a possession; branding him as a chattel slave of Hell.
The magical bonds burned into Hayden's skin like hot wires, singeing his flesh as he struggled against them.
Finally, his lungs filled with air and he screamed. He screamed with all his might, wordlessly calling for someone or something might come save him. He screamed in pain. In fear. In pure desperation.
But no one was coming.
Beneath Hayden's body, the fire of the circle was growing, roasting his body like a suckling piglet on a grill. He writhed against his bonds as the flames licked him, touching him everywhere, leaving no inch of his body unmolested. He arched up and away from the floor, desperately seeing relief, but found himself unable to escape the flames.
The laptop screen cracked, then went dark. Red light dripped through the broken glass as if something were trying to claw its way through the screen. The monitor screen on the camera glowed like a rainbow, then went dead. The tape melted into a pillar of acrid smoke, unable to contain the images it had witnessed.
The red light blinked out.
The window slammed shut.
The floorboards inside the circle crumbled like charcoal, dissolving into dust.
For a brief moment, Hayden was held there by his throat, wrists, and ankles. Dangling in his flaming shackles over the mouth of Hell below him.
Then, he was falling.
The fire was all around him now, and as he fell, he screamed until his lungs filled with smoke and could scream no more.
Still falling into the bottomless pit, Hayden blacked out.