Chapter Twenty-Five

Demons dreaming,
Breathe in, breathe in...
I’m coming back again...
Voodoo
Godsmack

All Hallows Night

Pokrovskoye, Siberia

Deep in the woods surrounding this countrified little village near where the River Tura flowed there stood the ruins of an old Khlyst Church.  The Khlyst religion was outlawed more than a century ago and this strange version of Christianity was no longer openly practiced.  It was within this obscure religion that Rasputin rose to a powerful position and gained a good deal of notoriety which, to the outside world, came to an abrupt with his murder in 1916.   This was not mere happenstance but a carefully planned and plotted, if fake, assassination which allowed Rasputin to disappear for the next one-hundred and twenty-some odd years.  December 29, 1916 was a day the historians would never forget even if they could never pin point Rasputin’s exact date and place of birth which had actually been nearly a thousand years before.

It wasn’t a decision Rasputin undertook lightly but after having been poisoned, stabbed, shot four times and repeatedly clubbed all in less than a week he thought it best if he disappeared.  Standing here in the old church he smiled a little upturned wicked grin and held back the laugh as he remembered all of the politicians who’d tried to kill him wondering aloud to themselves why the blasted man wouldn’t stay dead!

Looking very solemn in his priestly robes Rasputin stood at the podium with a large golden chalice filled with aromatic chrism oil filling his head with its combination of olive oil and balsam.  This is the most sacred and revered oil in all of Christianity, now it waited to anoint but Wolfgar and the man chosen for him.  In front of Rasputin the Book of Shadows was open wide.  With a sly grin he ran his old hand along its parchment pages.  Finally! Merlin’s book was his!  After so many centuries of waiting he now had the power to make even his wildest and darkest fantasies come true.  He owned it all to D’Sila and her wanton ambition and her pride.  Yes, if it hadn’t been for her he might not be standing here now making ready to end the life of one Antonio Dubois, a very nice and handsome young man who’d never done anything wrong in his life. The Sengul planet was full of idiots.  Of course he never intended to help them he only wanted the book which contained the spell he would use tonight to transform Wolfgar. The book held other wonders, charms, potions and spells as well and Rasputin couldn’t wait to try them all as soon as he could.  D’Sila was so desperate to have Arthur awaken and she’d let him alone with the book, the sword and the body for…well who knew how long…before she realized she’d been tricked and he’d stolen both sword and book out from under him.  The most ironic part was that D’Sila could never come back to Earth trying to claim it.  No, how could that look?  The pious Vedic D’Sila had thrown in with a shady character to go behind Earth’s back and cast the spell which was most important to them without Morgan Le Fey and they’d been duped by a less than moral man in the process.  D’Sila had to sit down and take it though Rasputin did wonder what she told Sovereign Nibor.  How did she explain that? 

With the sun long down the ruins were lit on this night by the stars above which were easily seen through the large holes in the once roof which had once been home to a large steeple.  Inside its eroding walls light was provided by the flickering of hundreds of candles placed around the altar and the large marble fontanel which was in the shape of a rectangle and was appropriate for an adult to stand in while being baptized.  Khylsts believed that things such as monumental and important as baptism were not for infants to be thrust into but rather were decisions to be made by thought-conscious adults. Next to it was a large gold censer ornately decorated with images of the infant Christ which billowed great tufts of Frankincense into the crisp night air. The fontanel has recently been cleansed and re-consecrated. Now it was half full with warm holy water blessed by Rasputin It sat waiting for the festivities of this Hallows Night to begin and baptism was not on the agenda. The glow of burning candles reflected in the salted water tossed strange flickers of light all of which combined until the crumbling church glowed with an eerie light that cast shadows far and wide to the cobwebbed corners.  Whatever treasures had been here when the place were abandoned were looted long ago down to most of the wood pews which had probably been stolen during a cold winter and used as firewood by those daring enough to venture through the twenty foot high oak doors which still hung straight on their hinges.

Bad things happened here.  At least that was what the locals whispered around their fires in the middle of the night though none of them were old enough to know exactly what had gone in this church.  They whispered things of sexual depravity and, yes, there had been many acts of that during Rasputin’s time.  Nights when all would gather in a great naked sweating groaning grunting grinding hoard for the Khylsts believed the only way to Salvation was through Sin. One could not be Saved if one never Sinned.  If one never Sinned then one could never Repent and know the true meaning of Forgiveness.  In light of that fact when the orgies were concluded often people were flagellated in manner which torturous and nearly orgasmic in their own depraved way.  The pain slowly overtook the pleasure of the sect until the orgies were held just as a means to get to the whipping post. It was at this point that Rasputin, prophet and psychic to the Tsarina Alexandra and her beloved son Tsarevich Alexi, parted ways. Tsarevich Alexi suffered from what is now known as hemophilia, a condition which ran rampant among the descendants of Queen Victoria who happened to be Alexis’ great-grandmother. This was how Rasputin wormed him way into the grace, if not the hearts, of the Royal Russian family.

In the corner the man, naked with his hands bound behind his back and a blindfold across his eyes, struggled and called out for help.  Rasputin, Raven, Tula and Wolfgar taunted him mercilessly telling him to shout at the top of his lungs because no one would hear him. No one would come to save him here in the last moments of his life.  The women eagerly ran their hands down his sinewy body touching every last inch of him and teasing his flaccid frightened cock with their moist tongues.  Behind Antonio, the younger man, with the even harder and well-toned body stripped off his clothes as he watched his lovers eyes light up with devilish desire.  Once he was unhindered by his clothing Wolfgar walked up behind the struggling mind and laid his arm gently on him.  “Your suffering is almost over,” he said in a deep rich voice that boomed through the empty walls of the dilapidated church.  His grasp on the man’s upper arm tightened to gauge the muscle there and found it acceptable.  Wolfgar’s dark lustful eyes scanned the rest of the twenty-five year old man who’d tried to commit his life to God but now would have that life taken from him.  “He is a good choice.”  His mother and Tula had picked this one out for him and this was Wolfgar’s first good look at the man he was about to transform into.  Antonio had dark sandy hair that was slightly wavy.  He had acceptable hazel eyes and a strong jaw which Wolfgar now grabbed rough hold of and turned the trembling man’s blindfolded face toward him.  High cheeks, full lips, a strong but narrow chest and torso met his stare.  “Are you ready yet you crazy old man? Let’s get started.”

The time was at hand. “Bring him here.” Rasputin called out and watched as Wolfgar dragged the smaller man to the altar. Antonio kept on begging for his life but his pleas were meaningless.  Hauling the man off his feet, Wolfgar stood Antonio in the warm blessed water of the fontanel.  The women, already brimming with the excitement of the wicked act ahead, each held onto one of Antonio’s arms to keep him in place.  He’d never know the pleasures of a woman but before his life ended tonight he would know the pain of a man. 

Tula took hold of his bound hands and rubbed them along her heaving naked breasts, Antonio tried to pull away but she wouldn’t let him as she pushed those hands down the flat of her stomach and to the soft snatch of hair between her legs where she rubbed herself on him and moaned with the delight of anticipation. “Do you like that?” She whispered in his ear, “it’s soft, no?”  Parting her outer lips with her free hand she was able to insert his fingers into her aching hole. “Wet.”

Were they going to rape him then kill him?  Perhaps they were going to kill him and then rape him?  Either way it didn’t seem to matter.  One moment Brother Antonio Dubois has been in the Monastery happily finishing the last of the evening meal’s dirty dishes while the others were off studying, meditating or turning in for the night in anticipation of a long day ahead.  The next someone clobbered him over the head and he awoke to feel his naked body lying on some sort of wood which had very sharp splinters.  Antonio had yet to see his captors and when he demanded to know why this was happening they only laughed and told him that his God had a greater plan for him than he ever realized.  By their sounds of their voices and their touch Antonio surmised there were two women and two men.  Seeming without end the women rubbed their nakedness against him in an attempt to entice him into breaking his vow of chastity but they had yet to take what they really wanted. There was an echo in here and a draft so large which lead him to believe that surely they were outdoors somewhere. Yet the scent of the sacred Frankincense was so strong that not even the draft carried it away.

He was lifted off his feet and into the air before his feet touched down again only to be immersed in lukewarm water and the scent of Frankincense was stronger, Antonio could almost feel the smoke snaking around his skin. There was another aroma now, that of the heady scent of chrism oil.  Was he in a church?  The echo and the aromas would lead him to believe so but if he was it was unlike any church he’d ever been inside of. Along with the oily incense the scent of dust and mold were strong here and clung to everything wrapping it in a cloak of uncleanliness.

The blindfold was lifted from his face and his hazel eyes adjusted to the candle light to take in the ruins of the old church and the faces of his killers.  “Please let me go,” he stammered, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“No you won’t be saying anything to anyone anymore.” Wolfgar agreed as he stepped into the fontanel behind the naked would-be priest.  Grabbing a hold of the hair at the back of the man’s head he wrapped one leg in front of Antonio’s to keep him secure and upright while Rasputin began the ritual.  Making the Sign of the Cross at each of the four directions, the crazy old monk walked around the marble fontanel three times with his censer dowsing the men head to toe with the smoke as he chanted something in ancient Latin that Wolfgar could not understand but Brother Antonio did.  Rasputin was calling upon God Himself to come and bless this Sacred Rite.

Up above the cloudless sky began to rumble with distant thunder.

The space consecrated and made sacred by the smoke bristled with a sinewy energy.  Rasputin picked up the chalice and made the Sign of the Cross over it before standing behind the fontanel and facing the pews, he drizzled the oil over the heads of both men.  Tula and Raven greedily joined in to make sure every inch of Wolfgar and Antonio was covered by the thick strongly scented oil.  It spilled into Antonio’s eyes making them sting and the tear as the scent filled his nose and then his head until it was all he could smell and he thought it would be sick from the stench of it a sacred oil he had once loved. Frightened as he was it was no match for the sensation of the soft greased hands gliding over his skin and the cock that had never known a woman began to spring to life.  While the oil flowed and the hands ran wild Rasputin kept one hand on the top of Antonio’s head while he speaking in ancient Latin. “As it was in the beginning it is now in a world without end. Grant this man without sin, he who is your humble servant, Salvation. You are the Father, The Son, The Brother, The Lover and The Holy Ghost. Take from this man his selfless sacrifice and grant him Everlasting Peace.”

“Peace.” Tula and Raven echoed.

“Are you ready?” Raven asked as she looked up at her strong and handsome son.

“I am.” Wolfgar replied.  Keeping Antonio firmly in place, the boy/man took his very hard cock and slid into Brother Antonio’s virgin ass.  Antonio cried out at the indignation and the sudden intrusion but Wolf gar kept him firmly and held him fast as he began sliding in an out of the soon to be lifeless man.  “We are one, what he leaves behind shall be mine.”

The chalice empty of its sacred oil Tula took it from Rasputin’s hand and held it up near Antonio’s throat.  The old monk put Excalibur in Wolfgar’s outstretched hand.  “I am the Father, I am The Son, I am the Brother, I am the Lover, I am the Holy Ghost, Ruler of this World Without End.” He declared.  “All that is yours is now mine.”  With slow deliberation he dragged the sharp edge of the sacred sword across Brother Antonio’s waiting throat.  At first it didn’t hurt at all and he was amazed by that even as he felt his own blood begin to flow forth and had time and presence of mind to understand that the smaller woman was catching it in the gold chalice but then, as Wolfgar’s power began to grow and did the strength of his thrusts into the dying Brother Antonio the pain burst forth and the young man let out a scream.

The blood softly flowing from his neck turned into a gusher as he tried with all of his might to expel a final call for aid.  The mighty sword fell to the fontanel as Wolfgar rocked back on his heels grabbing hold of the sore bleeding throat in front of him.  His hands were covered with the warm life giving liquid and until it dripped from his elbows into the holy water below turning it pink in small splotches.

Above them the thunder rolled and streaks of lightning ignited the previously calm night sky.

Raven and Tula were quick to catch the flowing crimson and to smear it all over Wolfgar’s naked body as he continued sodomizing the dying Brother.  With the gold chalice full Raven poured the contents over his head drenching his mid-night hair and covering his face with the hot sticky liquid.  Rasputin caught handfuls of it while the chalice was in use and rubbed it on Wolfgar’s neck and shoulders.

Standing there his burgeoning cock inside the Brother and his brawny body half-covered with the man’s blood Wolfgar felt more powerful than he ever had before but he also felt something else; the presence of another.  Brother Antonio’s consciousness was entering him it was flooding through him in a great crashing wave of bloodlust.  Another chalice full was poured over him and Wolfgar’s heavy cock could no longer hold back its load. It spewed forth a great rush of steaming cum into Brother Antonio’s bleeding cavity. Wolfgar brought the body closer to him to gain deeper penetration as the last of it spilled out of him then he cast the cooling corpse away from him. Brother Antonio landed with his torso sprawled out on the altar in front of the fontanel and his feet still in the darkening water.

Drenched in the innocent blood Wolfgar turned his hands into heavy fists making the muscles in his arms and chest standing out the candle light. He drew in a great breath of the scented night air, threw back his head and let loose a howl that sent the creatures of the night cowering back to their dens. “I AM THE GOD OF THIS WORLD WITHOUT END!” He proclaimed with every fiber of his soulless immortal being.  In front of their stunned unblinking eyes Wolfgar changed from himself to the Brother who was now among the newly dead. “I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE.”

End of Chapter Twenty-Five of
Golden Years
by Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling
Go to
Chapter Twenty-Six