Sinister: A Darker Fantasy

by Robert D. Jones

  Sinister: A Darker Fantasy

  Title Page

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  About Lisa De Palo

  SINISTER

  A DARKER FANTASY

  Lisa De Palo

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  CHAPTER 1

  A perfect Saturday night, and I chose to spend it home alone, could my life get any more boring?

  My time on this Earth had been anything but easy. At just over 20 years of age, I should have been out partying like the rest of my friends. Instead, I found myself sitting blank-faced at my computer with the soft tones of gypsy violin humming in the background.

  My nightly routine was researching the occult, conspiracies, Satanic rituals, demons, angels, summonings, power, witchcraft, magick, Enochian, and anything else I could wrap my mind around. I had been consumed by a cyber world of darkness, my blood pumped and my soul ached to be part of this secret world in real time. I hungered to dive in head first, I needed to be of it. I couldn't just sit here on the sidelines anymore, I needed to feel it.

  My heart had yearned with such a passion that I dare not give up. I felt impatiently patient. It’s a weird notion, I get that. But when I find something I love, I won't give up without a fight.

  My name is Maya Sanchez, I am 22 years of age and at the best of times, you could say I am more of an introvert. Let's just say I thrive on my alone time.

  I guess I have never truly understood people. While I'm not one who likes to generalise, I found that gossiping over materialistic shit whilst sipping on coffee at the mall, just wasn’t my thing.

  I was a realist, and many would even call me a conspiracy theorist. I didn’t buy into the mainstream media, and I've always believed that religion, with all its sin, was only developed for fear mongering, a control for the masses. I have always craved a sense of freedom. To be who I truly am, and to have the right to chase my inner most desires. I've never been a conformist, instead, I've always been on the search for individualism. I held a firm belief that there was more to life than this. There had to be.

  My life... well it hasn’t been an easy ride. I grew up with my sister, in a family where I was always either invisible or considered the black sheep. Why? Well simple, because I was the honest one. No one ever wants to hear the truth.

  I continued my life through a range of physically and mentally abusive relationships, got high too many times, was sexually abused and raped, and well, here I am. Alone and a little wiser. In a few years, I had witnessed more than most do in their entire lifetime. I have to believe that it all taught me something.

  My struggles through life had led me to question my very existence. Was there more to life than just this? I was sure this was not what life was meant to be about.

  One ordinary morning, I woke up, the same as every other day, and it hit me.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Enough of the wondering! I put my fingers into action. No, no... not in the way you are probably imagining, yet.

  I spent months, and years researching the occult. There was always something about the hidden world that really, really turned me on. Was it the mystery, the darkness? Whatever the case, I dove straight in, and ignorantly attempted some rituals that I had no idea about. I passionately etched sigils into my limbs, blissfully painting in my own blood, in the hope of summoning certain spirits. I lusted for it, a hunger I had never felt before, it made my entire body squirm in desire.

  The deeper I emerged myself into this unknown world, the more I began to experience unexplainable events. I began to see images in my periphery, strange smells lingered around the house, there were jabs to my shoulders, and I felt things crawling over me in the night.

  I must confess, as much as I tried to push the dark aside, I was drawn so deeply into the shadows that the hooks of eternal damnation etched themselves further into my very core. I myself find it awkward, that if one were to ask me, what it was about the dark that had captured my very soul, I honestly don’t know how I would answer them. I guess I have always believed that 'the left-hand path' wasn't as evil as society often perceived it. I was hoping that going against the grain would feed my curiosity.

  I continued on through my roller coaster of emotions, attempting, again and again, to talk with random individuals online. I frustratingly found that the majority of people out there were nothing more than attention seekers, they were just there for shits and giggles.

  It drove me down hill, and I fell into a deeper depression where I felt that I desperately needed to find a like-minded soul to guide me. I wanted someone to travel the forbidden planes with me, to truly experience the world within the world.

  There wasn't a single person out there that was genuine, and if there had been, I was yet to discover them. I was sure I couldn’t possibly be the only one on the internet that was for real.

  Angered, I stood up from the computer and walked to the kitchen. There was a lovely shade of crimson elixir calling my name. Wine was my saviour on more than one occasion. I loved to immerse myself deep into the dark orchestral music in the late hours, feeling everything, every emotion so intensely until I was passionately swept away into my own delirious mind. Or, I became blind drunk and fell asleep. Either way.

  There was this one beautiful still summer night, the moon almost full, the darkened sky clear, showing every sparkling star in the sky. I sat on my porch gazing up in wonder, sipping on my sparkling shiraz, my laptop to the side of me. I almost gave up on the search for answers, when my glass slipped through my fingers and spilt some wine onto my laptop. I quickly ran for a towel and soaked up the spillage, but as I pressed down to clean the keys, it opened a new webpage. It wasn’t until after I sat back down I had the chance to see what it was. A local group called Children of the Night.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was an instant chat section on there, and I immediately signed up. I could hardly contain my joy at this point, my fingers stumbled so much, it took me a few times to enter my email. I was presented with a pop-up that informed me it would take them up to 24 hours to accept my request.

  Oh please kill me now…

  I went to sleep that night and found myself wandering on sandy paths, like that of a labyrinth. It appeared to lead to an ancient castle which lay half in ruin. I can still remember being greeted by the sweet aroma of lime dancing under my nose, abruptly interrupted by the horrid smell of sulphur. The ancient torches hanging off the walls created an aura that subtly lit the way.

  I entered a room no wider than four or five meters with a floor that was dusty and walls of solid stone. It had a very grim feel to it. There was no furniture, nothing. Yet, I noticed toward the centre, a very large altar had been built and looked similar to the stone of the walls. It had been intricately etched and scrolled at the bottom, and as I ran my hand over the top I could feel the roughness of the surface.

  Something about this place felt right, it made me feel at home. My eyes began to study every corner of this magical place, and just at that moment, in the brisk and obscure room, I heard a scuffling come from the corner. I curiously glanced over and instantly felt the brute force of someone pushing me from behind.

  My entire body was pressed hard up against the icy, solid stone. The coldness of the wall ground hard against my half-naked breasts, making me feel like I was being rubbed up and down a cheese grater. It sent shudders right into my core. The nerve endings in my nipples became overly sensitive and sent uncontrollable pleasures down between my legs.

  I was pinned hard and paralysed. I was helpless. I felt so disgusted, but then suddenly, my sinful side allowed me to s
uccumb to the pleasures from the predator who was eating me alive. I almost vomited from the purest and most dangerous rush I had ever endured.

  I felt the roughness of his fingertips as my clothes were torn from my soft skin. He left me open and vulnerable. His hands felt like the scaly slither of a serpent as it slowly entwined around each limb, moistly poised around the most sensitive parts of my physical form. My large breasts were cupped and compressed taut, while something forcefully pried my legs apart with such force that I only remained upright suspended by my bare breasts.

  A part of me could feel him waiting for the moment when all my defences would come crumbling down. I stood tall, even though I was drowning in my own humiliation and unspeakable pleasures. I strangely felt a sudden new found hate for myself. My life had come to such a point that I allowed this demon to consume whatever was left of my sanity.

  He lifted me over to the bitterly cold, stone altar, and laid me face down. His demonic grunt sounded like that of a thousand souls being tortured. I felt the strength of his scratches, the pain of each bite. My clit was savagely pulsing, and the inner walls of my cunt clenching down in such eager anticipation. He thrust into me, all in one go. I screamed from the sheer size, as it tore my pussy wide open. I could hardly take it, and the tears streamed down my cheeks.

  CHAPTER 2

  I woke up around 4 am in a mess, laying in a pool of my own juices. That was definitely a dream I wouldn’t forget, and if I had to be honest, it only added to my craving to learn more about myself. I couldn’t sleep after that, so I found my way out of my messy bed and logged onto my laptop.

  DING! New messages.

  I was ecstatic, I had mail from members of Children of the Night.

  Oh please don’t let them be fake...

  Six messages later, and already I could pick them a mile away, fake, fake, oh look he wants to hook up. I couldn’t believe it, yet more phoney people. I felt angered and wanted to hit my head on the wall until I opened the next message.

  It was a man in his mid-thirties, and he didn’t appear the same as the rest. His name was David, he initiated the conversation by talking about the faith, asking what experiences I have had, and what I was seeking. We spoke for hours on the topic of embracing individualism. I felt enthralled, and could hardly contain my excitement.

  David had begun treating me with respect, as any ordinary conversation should go. I started to feel I could trust him and opened my heart. It actually felt nice to be able to chat to someone like-minded for once. When he learnt of my genuity, he started prodding. He leant more toward the sexual side and began objectifying me. I felt a little taken back by it, but I wasn’t weak. I had been through a life of abuse, and this didn’t seem out of the ordinary for me.

  Days went by and we shared our experiences. He taught me a thing or two which began to fuel my fire. Throughout our conversations, I sensed that I was somehow being tested and that perhaps it might be leading somewhere.

  He informed me that there is in actual fact gatherings that take place somewhere out in the woods. My heart skipped a beat or two. You see, I live in a small city, and nothing really happens here, at least nothing that the general public know of. Though, I am quite sure that many underground events take place, especially within the elite.

  I bombarded him with questions and he began to withdraw. I almost lost my only chance to discover what I had been yearning to know. I soon found out, that in this world, one must have patience - enough to almost drive you mad. And as a fire sign, I cannot tell you just how difficult that is. However, I quickly learnt to bow my head, apologise, and take a step back from my investigations. I must not be overbearing. Note taken.

  For weeks I was rigorously tested, undertaking some of the most disgusting and disturbing acts to prove my worth. David informed me that I was to be used as nothing more than a slave for ritual. First and foremost, I had to renounce Jesus. I was to find the sharpest tool in my house and cut through my soft flesh anywhere on my body, and with an inkless pen, sign away my typical Christian upbringing. I was to mention just how vile, I, in particular, found Jesus, and sign a certain contract in my own blood.

  Violating each of the seven sins were a couple of ways in which I would next show that I may be worthy as a submissive slave. I felt a newly found self-hatred, yet a huge part of me was driven to prove myself. I was informed that I needed to send videos of myself masturbating with any household item that I could find. I was ordered to meet random men and perform sexual acts on them, to be open to same sex and age play, and even to urinate on video. The list became more depraved as I moved forward.

  Meeting random men was difficult. Self-respect was something I had to purge myself of. David gave me instructions to place my own ad on one of the cities classifieds. I was to advertise myself as being a dirty slut, willing to do anything and everything men desired. To be a slave to men, to put myself in a place where women's values were never considered. I was to be a sexual object, three holes, nothing more.

  I was inundated with thousands of emails, so I read one randomly.

  Hello, you nasty big-titted slut, I want to use and abuse every one of your slut holes, and make you take arse to mouth, while I watch you gag on my cock until you puke.

  What!? This is how I was to be treated? Why was I to be humiliated and objectified to such an extent? I was filled with emotion and broke down into tears. Why are women treated in this way? What did I do to deserve such degradation? I was beside myself.

  I came to a point where I started to doubt David, was he just asking me to do these things for his own sick fetishes? I wasn’t sure, but every time I was filled with doubt, it sent me at least two steps back. I was starting to believe that this was all fake. I cursed and abused him, believing he was just sitting there tugging himself off to my humiliation. I was tested and tested, until it completely broke me. Morals, self-worth, and pride weren't tolerated within the fold.

  I opened an email one day and gasped in surprise.

  "Venture into the light of the full moon and you shall find us in ceremony. Know that you will dine on the depravity of The Divine One"

  I wasn’t sure how to feel, but I knew I must follow this path. Fate would guide me. I was to enter masked and cloaked, no one was to see the others face as this was an individual's journey, and highly secretive.

  Was I to be some kind of virginal sacrifice? Well, if that’s what they had in store for me, they were out of luck in that department. I was nervous, it wasn’t every day one would attend a Satanic ritual.

  My anxiety was completely out of control. I was having panic attacks every day, and I had to stop myself and ask, what was I doing? And why? Was it due to the fact that I had been through mental, physical and sexual abuse? That I had so much torment in my life, that I felt I needed to continually punish myself? Perhaps I deserved it? Or maybe it was habitual? I really had no idea.

  I felt relief after every set of photos or videos I sent through to David, and even though he had informed me of the ritual, I felt that my testing was far from over.

  I find myself to be a gentle and caring person, yet I was so destructive and sought out the most humiliating and destructive path I could. I had no time for confusion, I needed focus, and in a way, I needed to psych myself into an almost trance-like state daily.

  The new moon would be born in just forty-eight hours. I was filled with anxiety and wonder. Was I truly ready for this? Was this what I really wanted? What would become of me? Was there a chance of possession? Rape? Torture? I didn’t know, I was filled with so many questions, yet I knew I couldn’t think this way. I had to try and keep myself open (in every way) in order to move forward.

  CHAPTER 3

  Since my blood sacrifice, I found that strange occurrences started to happen around me. I wasn’t quite sure if it was something that was changing within me, or if some kind of external force was evolving right in front of my very eyes.

  I was introduced to a whole range of unexplainable, intim
idating, and creepy conditions. I started to feel like I was being watched, I could sense a continuous presence around me. It was something new, I didn't feel this way before, and it kept me on my toes. I remember looking over my shoulder on more than one occasion, just to see who was lurking behind me.

  One night, I woke up in desperate need of the bathroom. But my way was blocked, a shadowy figure was watching me from the doorway. It never moved, it just stood there with silent eyes.

  I froze in fear, and held my blanket tight around me, hardly able to breathe. I couldn’t peel my eyes from it. I held my bladder for as long as possible until finally, it vanished. Just at that moment, bright flashes of white appeared at the end of my bed, little tiny orbs, like fireflies dancing and lighting up my room.

  They flickered for only a matter of seconds until darkness resumed. I wondered if they might have been spirits trying to warn me, or maybe even to stop me from pursuing my chosen path.

  On any other occasion, there would have been no way I would leave my bed - I was utterly terrified. However, I was left with no choice, I needed the toilet. Sliding out of my bed was so difficult, I knew what was still lingering unseen. I felt strange, something felt, off. I cautiously ventured down my hallway, walking slowly, my eyes darting back and forth. Baby steps got me half way down the hall, and I swear I must have stepped into or through something.

  I will never forget that moment. As I stepped through the thing, all of my senses washed away and my head felt as if it were floating underwater, I couldn't see or hear anything. It was complete sensory deprivation. I must have kept walking because I remember stepping out of it, and the world returned to normal.

  The way I perceived it, was almost as if I had walked through some portal, or perhaps through an entity, I really don’t know. It scared me half to death, and from that point on, I started carrying my ritual dagger wherever I went and even slept with it.