Black Mass

[Tammuz]

The introducing parts of my German goddess novel with an 18-year-old female prota.

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It´s like immersing in a kiln.
Everywhere is yellow and red glowing.
And it does not hurt
Since I am the glowing,
An indelible fire
In the unlimitedness,
In the Pleroma,
In the divine.
I am the eye
Of Heaven.
My mind is
A beryl,
My hymen
Is an emerald,
My silence
Is an amaranth,
My center
Is a gleaming aquamarine.
I am virginity
And the Womb.
I am Barbelo, mother of the galaxy.
I am the highest deity.
Lalameus, Noetheus, Senaon, Asine, Oriphanios, and Eemnaoni
Kneel in front of me,
Acclaiming the magnificence of the first Aeon,
Living on my light which shines through the eternal light
Which is the
One.

1.

- Nine months earlier -

Just as I think I´m not up to the task, the goddamn gong sounds. So I keep lying naked on the table. My lower legs hang down from the edge, my head rests on a pillow, and my arms are stretched at right angles. My hands hold candelabras with black burning candles. Between my thighs stands a silvery chalice filled with wine.
In front of me a priest has taken up position. In the shadow of his cowl his eyes look as gloomy as the dark side of the moon.
In a few minutes he´ll **** me.
For some good cause, naturally.
More precisely: for some bad cause.
Still more precisely: for some bloody cause I can´t get.
Three days ago Steve, a Goth belonging to the six habit freaks standing in a semi-circle behind the priest, had persuaded me to play the ´altar´.
"That´s but a great job," he argued, "for an exhibitionist like you."
"**** yourself." I faked consideration. The moron was right, of course. "Okey-dokey. Count me in."
Apart from the group stands a young woman in a nun habit whose role is unclear. Aside her a guy swivels an incense vessel with the smell of moldered centuries.
Pathetically the priest shouts: "Illuminator, we beseech your blessing!"
Now the nun comes nearer. One of the monks brings a pot and places it behind her on the floor. She lifts her garment. I catch a glimpse at her naked booty, then see only her head as she crouches over the pot and splashes into it. As she goes back to her place the priest pulls a rod from a pocket of his habit, dips it into the pot and shakes it in all four directions, shouting:
"Send out the heralds of ecstatic pleasure and let come true my desires!"
That´s the moment when I notice that something is wrong here—something that hasn´t anything to do with the freak show.
My physical feel changes...
I´m weightlessly floating in space...
The world is a matrix of light and sound...
But only for one moment.
Then I fall back to Earth, agitated like a thundercloud. My skin seems electrified. I see every contour as clear as if someone had strapped a microscope before my eyes. I count every tiny hair of the priestly three-day stubble and watch the urine drops slowly sailing through the air and reflecting the lights of the candles.
Then my sight gets back to normal.
One of the monks has removed the pot. With a smile the priest seizes the silvery phallus between my legs and raises it.
"See the chalice of carnal lust which gives zest for life!"
He sips the wine. For one instant his face is shining with joy, then he gives it to a monk who also drinks and passes it on.
As the last habit guy puts the emptied goblet back on the table, the priest goes nearer to me. He grabs my thighs and pulls me close to the edge of the table so that my puss comes in genital reach. I had almost released the candelabras in my hands. He lifts his habit to the point that I see his vertical flesh.
I get flooded with adrenaline.
It´s not because I had never seen a hard-on—far from it. Nevertheless my heart is rattling like a hardcore bassdrum.
Then a pulsing web of light appears around the cowled head.
The psychodelic version of a halo.
And I hear:
—Cool ****.—
Oops... inside me I hear a thought, apparently coming from the think factory of devil´s darling in front of me. Still with the halo around his head the thinker grabs his hard-on and pushes it close to my pussy.
In one second he´ll penetrate me.
This is not nearly over as the chattering thoughts of the other freaks reveal themselves to me. The message is clear: not only the priest but the rest of the troop wants to make whoopee with me.
It doesn´t say that in the screenplay.
I would never have agreed in that.
Gothic Steve has tricked me.
As the second comes to an end I´m really cross.
And I explode.
Everything around me sinks—no idea how long—into tohubohu and panic screams.
Then it becomes silent.
What has actually happened I have hardly realized. Something inside me has acted, something greater and mightier than me, and has worked off on the bozos.
Fiercely breathing I jump from the table. All males are lying on the floor. They don´t lift a finger any more. The brawny hombre over there at the door has collapsed, too.
Only the nun stands upright, looking at me with her eyes widened. The shock has left her speechless.
"Hey," I growl, "that was just the master of Hell, so keep cool."
She is so much flabbergasted that she simply nods.
"Now check out whether the asses are alive!"
Still looking as if I were the devil´s bride she bends over the priest and takes his pulse.
"He´s alive," she whimpers and checks the other creeps one by one. All are just unconscious, including ****ing Steve. With relief I feel inside me. Whatever has happened — it has enrichened me.
Something has aroused inside my soul.
Something superior?
I grin about this ridiculous thought.

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