The Summoning

In the ancient days, now obscured by myth and legend, the priestesses of the pleasure cult, the Aischrolatreia, would perform sacred ceremonies designed to evoke their dark mates from the spaces between the worlds. Using the female power bound within their ripe sex, the fertile novices willingly offered their bodies for breeding with alien beasts, calling to their monstrous masters with unspeakably foul lusts. It was a hideous submission, an act of religious fanaticism. Surrounded by chanting acolytes and looming standing stones, their flushed bodies drenched in sweat, thrashing upon the altar beneath the writhing slap of tentacles, the newly initiated females soon felt the result of their indiscriminate spawning grow within their gravid wombs.

In medieval times, desperate to avoid the fires of the inquisition, Oriphia, High Priestess of the pleasure cult, commissioned the mad monk Clitanus to produce illuminated tomes outlining the secret mysteries of the Cult of Pleasure. She paid for this service with her own body, and those of the virgins dedicated to the cult.

Each day, Clitanus would inscribe new pages of blasphemous knowledge, new forms of forbidden pleasure made manifest in the written word. Each night, he would entertain himself with the trained slavegirls provided by Oriphia, even the high priestesses own daughters did not escape the leering lechery of the mad monk. The result of their lush exertions and straining efforts was the Codex Voluptarius, a terrible index of pleasures beyond any feeble human morality.

Oriphia, Clitanus and the Codex disappeared into the churning mists of history. For centuries it seemed that the forbidden essence of the Cult of Pleasure would be forever lost. Until one day, not too long ago, Miss Christine Coxwell, Head Librarian at St. Theresa's School for Wayward Girls reached into the bottom of a locked and musty chest in the school's attic.

They say that the darkest of occult knowledge possesses a will of it's own. In some philosophies, blasphemous ceremony and damned inscriptions can exert a terrible influence on the souls of the sinful, luring the wicked and discontent into journeys of sordid discovery. It was in this way that a lonely lady librarian discovered the catalogue of bestiality that was the Codex Voluptarius.

Christine's bespectacled eyes were alight with wonder as she withdrew the tome from the antique steamer's trunk. Her fingertips glided softly over the intricate whorls and curved designs of the Codex's cover plates. Shivers of pleasure ran up and down her spine as she placed the heavy book on an examination desk.

The lady librarian was tentative as she opened the bindings, like a virgin afraid to experience a brutal first lover. But soon, the dark allure of the latin verses seduced her sensibilities. Almost unbidden, her hand slipped between her thighs and she began to rub her sweet slippery slit as lewd verses escaped her whispering lips. The incantations contained within the Codex were being released by her softly moaning voice.

Christine's finger pressed hard against her secret spot and a whimper of pure need escaped her lips. This was a reading experience unlike any other. The horrible secrets contained within the Codex had unfolded her lusts, turning her into nothing more than a masturbating slut. But she couldn't stop herself. It was a pleasure too intense, every word was an enthralling delight, every new page a fierce new lover to ravish her into submission.

By the end of her reading, she was wailing out the words in the echo-filled basement of the school library. Shouting out the ancient mysteries of the Aischrolatriea in her wild ecstacy. So consumed by her sorcerous orgasm was Christine that she barely noticed when the tentacles emerged from beyond. The alien horrors disgorging themselves into the world like a stallion's phallus emerging from a dripping animal sheath. She screamed as the rough tentacles seized her with a brutal strength, dragging her into a nightmare of oblivion.