*I am Ronin and you are going to listen to me.*

Pusher. "Get the fuck outa my head, Modell," I muttered under my breath.

*You're going to listen to me, Mulder.*

"Like hell I am, you bastard." I was growling now, hoping that vocalizing my response out loud would help me resist his commands, help me fight the whammy he was trying to put on me.

Modell's words wove like tentacles through my mind, gradually getting tighter and tighter. It was like being caught in quicksand. The more I struggled and fought, the harder he pushed his will into me. I knew I couldn't fight him, knew I had no choice but to surrender completely and immediately.

*Listen and obey, Mulder.*

Obey? I almost laughed out loud. There was only one Master that I'd ever obey and it sure as hell wasn´t Bob Modell. I'd play his game if only because I had to in order to be accepted by my Master.

"Obey who?" I asked, even though I wasn't really all that interested in finding out what he had in store for me this time. He was just a stepping stone on my journey back to my Master's side.

The last time we had met, in the hospital, he hadn't revealed his plans until all the pieces were in place, until Scully arrived in the room. Even after making her watch me pull the trigger twice, he kept his intentions hidden til the last possible second, til he forced me to turn the loaded gun on my partner, my friend, the only person I had ever trusted back then.

Confident that he had me well and truly under his control, Modell spoke out loud for the first time, "Whoever wants to play. Play their games and it will all be over before you know it."

Modell's voice came from behind me, just over my left shoulder. A hand was placed lightly on my right shoulder as I bowed my head in submission. I closed my eyes, just wanting it all to be over and done with. My Master waited for me across the Abyss and that was all I thought about.

"Very good, Fox. Let's get this show on the road."

With those words, my journey began.

Something stroked my cheek and I opened my eyes to see a hideously deformed hand holding a choke collar made of heavy chain and black leather leash. The hand was pinky, yellowish in colour and translucent with pronounced blue veins covering the surface. The middle two fingers were fused together in one misshapen mass. I recognized it immediately as belonging to John Barnett, my first case out of the academy, my first case with the Violent crimes unit and, years after it should have happened, my first kill.

My words to Scully after we watched him die came back to haunt me: "I feel like we haven't heard the last from John Barnett."

He slipped the collar over my head and jerked on the leash, yanking me to my feet. "Looks like I've snared myself a fox."

I brazenly met his gaze, looking into pale blue eyes that were every bit as devoid of life as their owner.

"Man, I'm everywhere you are. Everywhere," he said in his trademark slow, breathy voice. He had spoken those exact words the first time he phoned me to brag about the crime he had committed, the person he had murdered, in order to leave me a note.

So, it would seem that he would get his revenge from beyond the grave, after all. We never did find Ridley's anti-aging and cell regeneration research he had stashed away in some obscure, safe location.

"I told you I'd get you, Fox." He wrapped the leash around his good left hand, drawing me close. "I own you." He winked at me, repeating his actions in the courthouse all those years ago. He puckered his lips and pressed them to mine, his salamander hand cold and dry against the back of my neck.

I stood passively as he kissed me, neither responding to nor resisting the invasion of his tongue inside my mouth. Finally he released me and it took all my will power not to raise my hand to wipe away the foul tasting saliva he left behind. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how vile his touch was to me.

I never questioned the extreme implausibility of what was happening. That a ghost, a man I had shot and killed some eight years before, had just French-kissed me. He was flesh and blood, as real as Samantha had been when I held her for the very last time in a field bathed in starlight and filled with children playing and laughing and singing.

"What do you want, Barnett?" I had my suspicions by the way he was groping me, his deformed hand tracing a path between my neck and groin. Thick, lumpy fingers grabbed my cock, eradicating my erection in less than a second, much to my relief. I even felt my balls try to draw up into my body to get away from the freak's icy cold touch.

"I'm going to fuck you, Mulder. You fucked up my hand and my life, so that's how I'm going to fuck you."

I shuddered involuntarily at the implications of his words, barely noticing as he pulled me over towards the main altar in the middle of the cavern. Invisible hands lifted me, positioning me face down on the rough stone surface. I could feel and taste and smell the sweat and blood and fear of everyone who had lain here before me. The fact that I knew I would survive and be reunited with my Master helped calm the gut wrenching terror that was struggling to wrestle control away from Modell.

Pusher's will alone held me down as securely as if I been bound hand and foot. I swear, though, I could feel cold iron shackles around my wrists and ankles, hear the chains rattle and clink as they were attached to thick steel rings embedded in the rock beneath me. My limbs were pulled uncomfortably taut by invisible restraints to the four corners of the altar, leaving me helpless and open to Barnett's wandering hands. My genitals were crushed underneath me, but the pain didn't register at all.

To my relief, Modell seemed to have his full concentration focussed on restraining me. I tried, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to disassociate myself from what Barnett was doing to my ass. Something cold and wet was smeared along the crack and pushed inside, didn't want to imagine what I was being lubed with- probably blood, god knows there was plenty of it available. I felt my butt cheeks forced apart by a cold, solid mass and tried my best to relax and accept the intruder. It still hurt like hell though as the outer ring of muscle was breached and I gasped in pain.

"That's it, Fox. Open up wide and let me in," Barnett breathed into my ear as he withdrew briefly only to quickly thrust his malformed middle "finger" back inside. A half dozen jabs later, Barnett considered me loosened up enough to insert his whole fist into my ass. I had never been stretched so much, not even by Spender. The pain was indescribable. Sure, I had been fisted before by clients, but never as brutally as this or with as little preparation.

My hips were lifted inches off the altar by the force of Barnett's thrusts and punches as he buried his arm deep up my rectum and into my bowels. Even after I stopped screaming, from exhaustion rather than any lessening of pain, the sounds still echoed around me. They bounced off the stone floor, walls and ceiling of the cavern, doubling and tripling in volume and intensity instead of quickly fading away.

Barnett settled into a slow but punishing rhythm that soon had me hard despite the pain. I came within minutes, much to his delight and my horror.

"Guess it's your funeral now, Fox."

Without missing a beat, he pulled hard on the leash. Rather than administering an erotic strangulation designed to arouse and heighten the excitement of orgasm, Barnett's only intention was to kill me.

His position between my legs gave him good leverage to tighten the choke chain with his good hand while continuing to fist me with his mutant one. Within seconds I was on the verge of passing out. I was light-headed and dizzy, but there was none of the euphoria I had felt during previous erotic asphyxiations. There was only terror and abject despair at my impending death; not of death itself though, but the fact that I would die without ever having been claimed by my Master. I didn't want to die without Him having been buried deeply inside me, deeper even than Barnett was capable of going with his arm. Master could strangle me, bleed me, cut me into a thousand pieces and I would die happy.

He kept up the tension on the leash and my world grayed and then blackened. I was weak and pathetic. No wonder He didn't want me.

My last conscious thought was that of profound shame at having failed my Master.

I came to an unknown time later when Barnett shoved his skinny cock into my mouth. He didn't expect me to participate, fucking my face as viciously as he had fisted my ass. He came in minutes, shooting bitter-tasting cum down my throat. He withdrew and faded into the smoky ether, the collar and leash vanishing with him, like the ghost he was.

Praying my ordeal was over, I searched immediately for my Master. I wanted- needed- him to touch me, to hold me, to wash away the decaying stench of Barnett's touch.

I turned my head to the left but he was still hidden out of sight, seated on his throne behind the wall of Coven acolytes. The air around them shimmered, colors of a million different hues sparkling in the torchlight. Even though the Abyss had been created, the path to my Master remained tantalizingly just out of my reach. I could swear the opening had narrowed slightly, though it was still too wide to be traversed. Or was that just the wishful thinking of a slave desperate to be in his Master's embrace? If it was true, it meant I was moving closer to my Master, if only by a few inches. I would suffer a thousand Barnetts fucking me if that was the price Master demanded of me to kneel at His feet.

Either Modell was tiring or he was permitting me this very limited movement. I quickly ruled out the former, figuring that spirits had an infinite supply of energy at their disposal, which left the latter explanation, though I had no idea of his motives.

I was just about to lay my head back down when I saw a dark, shapeless shadow rising up from the Abyss, shrouded in smoke and flames. It emerged from the thick fog, gaining form and features as it drew closer to the altar where I was held captive by Pusher's will.

"Mulder. Long time no see."

It was another familiar face, another felon I had killed with a single shot to the forehead. I detected a very distinct pattern forming and racked my memory for others who fit the cause of death and revenge-seeking formulas.

"It's been a long time. A very long, very lonely, time." John Lee Roche stared down at me with undisguised lust. His hand was caressing the bulge in his trousers, but he never took his brown eyes off me.

"What a pity then that I'm not your type," I said. "Guess you'll have to get your rocks off all by yourself."

"What makes you think you're not my type? Only kids believe in UFOs and little green men." He made a circular motion with one finger and that weird whistling noise that he had taunted me with in my Dad's house on the Vineyard. "You're just a little boy in a man's body."

He slowly circled the altar, revelling in his freedom and my captivity. Trailing a bony hand down my left thigh, he moved out of my line of sight. When I saw him a few seconds later, he held something that glinted in the firelight, but I couldn't work out what is was. He ran it lightly along my other leg, from ankle to hip. It was cold and hard and slightly rounded. I finally identified it as the handle of the dagger used to sacrifice the boy.

"Since when have you liked little boys, Roche? You only get turned on by young girls in frilly nightgowns and pretty ribbons in their hair."

I don't know why I was baiting him. Force of habit, I suppose. He had all the advantage, all the power, just like any rapist, corporeal or otherwise. I was as helpless as any of his sixteen previous victims.

"I'm realistic, like I told you. Take what I can get. Not a lot of sweet little girls in a federal prison. But plenty of pussy-boys willing to please a man anyway they can."

He did another slow circuit around me, the dagger handle never losing contact with my skin. I would have been well carved up had he been using the blade.

"If you're gonna fuck me, Roche, just get it over and done with."

"That is such a vulgar term, Fox. I'm going to make love to you like I do with all my boys."

"Sure, fine, whatever." I lay my head back down, already resigned to the fact that I was totally defenceless against this sexual predator.

"Turn over. I want you on your back."

I didn't move a muscle even though I felt Modell ease his "hold" on me enough to obey Roche's command.

"I'll be gentle, I promise." He had twisted the dagger in his hand and was running the top edge of the blade along my spine.

"Sorry, but your promises aren't worth shit, Roche."

"You didn't meet my conditions so I was under no obligation to keep my end of the deal."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked, totally confounded by his reasoning. I figured that as long as I kept him talking he wouldn't fuck me. But as dersirable as that concept was, it was also a cruel catch-22. The Abyss wouldn't get any narrower and, therefore, I wouldn't get any closer to being claimed by my Master until Roche had taken his turn up my backside.

A stinging slap landed on my ass, quickly followed by a soft caress and still I didn't move.

"Turn over, Fox. I want to see your face as we make love," he ordered, ignoring my question.

*Do as he says, Mulder.*

I still resisted. The last thing I wanted was to look my rapist in the eye as he fucked me.

"Do it, Mulder. Don't bother resisting. You know you can't." Modell pushed as hard as he could, forcing his will onto me, forcing me to submit and obey.

The pressure in my brain was so bad I was sure my head would explode. The pain was a hundred times worse than any migraine I had ever experienced.

"I thought you wanted a worthy adversary, Modell," I snarled, slowly rolling over, but far from defeated.

"And you were. You've already proven yourself to be a true warrior. No need to fight any longer."

As soon as my back was flat against the smooth stone, Modell immediately relaxed his vice-like grip on my brain and immobilized me again, pulling the invisible chains binding my wrists and ankles tight once more.

Much to my surprise, Roche kept his promise. He was as gentle as a lover. After placing the dagger on my sternum, an unusually erotic action in a very long night of sensual sensory overload, he caressed and stroked me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. He didn't leave a single patch of skin untouched as he explored erogenous zones I never knew I had.

My mouth received prolonged attention with long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that thankfully lasted nowhere near three minutes, let alone three days.

My nipples were next on Roche's agenda. They were teased and toyed with, licked and nibbled until they were erect and ultrasensitive to even the tiniest breath exhaled over them.

He then moved down to my crotch, leaving a trail of feather soft kisses down my abdomen and belly. Considering the extraordinary number of orgasms I'd had in a very short space of time, my penis should have been completely lifeless, my balls totally depleted of semen. But it sprung to life, purple and engorged and already leaking pre-cum, the second he swept his thumb over the head.

He spent many minutes stroking and squeezing my cock, always gentle, always careful not to inflict even the slightest bit of pain. He used plenty of lube, his hands easily gliding over the head and up and down the shaft. I was left weak and shuddering, trembling with desire even as I burned with hatred for my abuser.

Given the amount of stimulation my cock had received, it should have been red raw and very, very tender, but it wasn't. What Roche was doing felt good, it felt damn good and I couldn't help but respond. Almost involuntarily, my hips thrust upwards, pushing my cock into his hand. I was silently hoping he would wrap his long fingers tighter around me and jerk me off properly instead of taking me to the verge of release and then keeping me there.

After what seemed like hours, I felt one of his fingers circle around my anus. More teasing followed, driving me crazy, driving me to scream out, "Fuck me already!"

"All in good time, Fox. You need to experience all the pleasure I can give you. Anything less and you won't be fully satisfied."

He stopped any further protest by covering my mouth with his and kissing me til I nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation.

He slipped one finger inside me while I was catching my breath, quickly adding a second when he realised I was a fair bit looser than his usual fuck-buddies. Even so, he still took his time stretching me, but I'm sure it was designed more to piss the hell out of me than any genuine concern for my welfare.

"You've always taken things between us so personally. I guess we can't get more personal than this, can we, Fox?" Roche said when he eventually slid his long cock slowly inside me.

In many ways, Roche's lengthy preparation and careful penetration was more of a rape than Barnett's brutal assault had been. His cruelness came not from pain, but from pleasure. He did everything in his power to assure that I experienced maximum arousal and sexual satisfaction.

After he was fully imbedded in my ass, all pretence of kindness and social niceties vanished and he fucked me with the desperation of a man just released from years of imposed celibacy. The dagger slid off my chest as my whole body was violently rocked by the force of his thrusts. I felt the welts on my back tear open and begin to bleed from being scraped back and forth on the rough surface of the altar.

The fucking, though brutal, was blessedly brief with both of us coming explosively after only a few minutes. Roche pulled out with a loud satisfied grunt and a final squeeze of my limp cock. He adjusted his clothing and turned away from me without uttering a word.

Straight away, I looked to see if I was any closer to my Master. Relief flooded me at the site of him sitting regally on his throne, flanked by my Brothers and Sisters. He seemed so close that I was sure I could reach out and touch him. I longed to do just that but was prevented from doing so by the mental control Modell still had over me.

The formally wide crevice in the ground had shrunk to just a couple of feet. My Master waited for me just on the other side, so close and yet still so far away.

Roche took a couple of steps towards it, losing focus and solidity the further he moved away from me. I was expecting Modell to "free" me and for them both to fade away into nothing just as Barnett had done, when Roche stopped and turned to face me, the dagger firmly in his grasp.

"Nearly forgot," he said as he approached me again. "Can't leave without taking a trophy, a little something to remember our time by."

I knew at once what his intention was and started struggling immediately, though I was well aware that I wouldn't be able to escape.

"Get away from me, you bastard!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, all to no avail.

Roche never broke stride as he stalked the few yards between us with a predatory look on his thin face.

"Touch me again and you'll wish you were dead!" Only thing wrong with the threat was that he was dead already, but that tiny detail didn't stop me issuing it anyway. I knew that he would face a fate far worse than hell if he carried through with his plan.

He placed one hand around my throat, squeezing hard enough to severely interfere with my breathing. The other hovered over my chest, the tip of the dagger scraping my sweaty skin. Without hesitating, he pushed the blade into the flesh covering my heart and swiftly cut out a small patch of skin. He only went a few layers deep, but it felt like the dagger sliced all the way through to my back.

I screamed again, the pain of having a finger broken twice feeling like a stubbed toe compared to the agony I was in at that moment.

It was over within seconds and, barely conscious, I watched Roche through tear-filled eyes as he stood there, admiring his trophy. His grip on my throat loosened, becoming an affectionate caress that totally belied the torture he had just inflicted.

"Master!" I cried out for the one being, the only being, that could comfort me and take away the pain.

Before the word had fully left my lips, the space between us crackled with static electricity, bolts of red and blue, yellow and green fire shooting through the air like lightning. They struck and surrounded Roche where he stood. He crumpled to the floor, disintegrating into a smoky cloud as he collapsed.

When the air cleared, I saw something float towards the ground in front of Master's throne like an autumn leaf. I blinked away my tears, not realising that I could have used my hand, and saw that it was a piece of skin- my skin- in the shape of a heart.

Master bent forward, catching it before it could reach the floor. He pressed it to his lips and, with a tiny movement of one taloned finger, beckoned me to rise and go to him.

I sunk to my knees in front of the throne where He reclined. The pain in my chest all but subsided in His presence. Besides, what was a little discomfort compared to the ecstasy he could bestow on me with just a touch or a look.

"Welcome at last, my sweet Fox," Master said as he tilted my chin up with his razor sharp claw. I felt myself drowning in the glowing pools of deep red that were his eyes.

I still couldn't quite comprehend how amazingly beautiful He was. He had an aura of sophisticated malevolence; dark, evil and sinister yet tinged with sultry sexiness, oozing power and sensuality the way us mere mortals excreted sweat.

His long, thick shaft bobbed invitingly in front of my lips. I knew I would never be able to accommodate such a large organ, but I was very willing to do my best and swallow as much of it as I could manage.

Knowing what was expected of me, I flicked out my tongue, tasting Him for the very first time. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. He tasted of violence and depravity, domination and control. It was intoxicating and instantly addictive.

As I started to pleasure my Master, He wrapped His giant wings around me. My earlier suspicions were correct; they were as soft as the finest kidskin leather. They blocked out light, sound and air, and I didn't mind one bit. Everything I needed was contained within the sanctuary those appendages created. I would be nourished by his semen alone, would breathe the heady pheromones He secreted.

Kneeling between his powerful thighs, I could barely get half of his cock in my mouth to begin with, so brought my hands into play to give him as much pleasure as I could. I used every technique I knew as I licked and nibbled, and sucked and stroked him. I paid extra attention to his massive balls, felt them pulsing beneath my tongue and fingertips, alive and bursting with the liquid manna I was so desperate to feast on.

Master wasn't brutal or violent, though He did force me to take in more than I initially thought I could handle. The discomfort, however, only lasted briefly and I soon learnt to relax my throat and jaw muscles to accommodate most of His extraordinary length. I don't think there was any human alive that could deep-throat Him completely and hoped He would be pleased with the effort I was making.

But no matter how much I stimulated Him, He didn't give up even a single drop of His precious essence. I feared I wasn't pleasing Him sufficiently and that I never would.

It was like being thrust into a toxic, vile smelling atmosphere when, without warning, Master retracted His wings and pushed me roughly away from Him.

I was devastated yet again. His rejection of me hurt more than everything that had happened in the last few hours combined and multiplied a thousandfold.

"Master, please I can do better, I can handle more. I know I can." I was openly begging and wasn't at all embarrassed to do so.

"You will get more than you can handle, little one, for I fully intend to make maximum use of you." Master smiled at me and, if I wasn't already totally entranced by Him, I was now. He had weaved His spell around me as securely as any spider's web. I didn't fight or struggle as He tightened His hold. He had done it so covertly that I wasn't really aware I was trapped until it was too late to put up even a token resistance. I wanted to be consumed by Him, devoured until there was nothing left of me, until we were truly one being, one entity.

He clicked His fingers and, without thinking, I immediately positioned myself on all fours, presenting my ass for Him to use as He pleased.

"Stand, sweet Fox. You may be my pet, but I won't take you like a common animal." He gestured for me to rise and I complied at once, curious as to what He had in mind.

Eight of my Brothers and Sisters lined up, four on each side of me. They joined hands, forming a fleshy sling to cradle me as I laid back into their outstretched arms. I didn't hesitate, knowing without a doubt they would not let me fall. One of my Brothers supported my head and shoulders. He positioned me so that I could see down along my body to where Master stood between my legs. The last two took hold of my ankles, raising my legs and spreading them wide apart.

I was totally open and exposed, eagerly awaiting my Master's attentions. I was so sure I would explode as soon as He even breathed on me.

He didn't keep me waiting long.

I thought I had been stretched to my limit by Barnett's mutated fist, but that was like being fucked with a couple of fingers compared to the workout Master gave my ass. It was like a jackhammer set on maximum speed had been inserted inside me, but there was absolutely no pain, only the most sensational ecstasy that I had ever experienced. Master was right. Nothing in my wildest fantasies had ever come close to the unbelievably erotic pleasure His actions were creating.

I visualised millions of tiny tentacles spreading out from his cock, running along every single nerve, invading every single cell, millions of tiny cocks all pumping and throbbing, fucking me from my very core to the outermost layer of my skin.

I know I was screaming for more, certain that Master was still holding something in reserve. I wanted everything He could give me -- and so much more -- and I wanted it right there and then.

Master pounded my ass relentlessly and, with no sign that He was even remotely close to orgasm, I knew I was in for a marathon session. My ankles were laid over his shoulders and released. His long flexible horns wrapped around my wrists as my Siblings released their supportive hold on me. I fell a couple of inches before Master took up the slack. It was like I was freefalling and Master was my parachute. And then it was just the two of us, joined in the most intimate way possible. The rest of the world, and everyone and everything in it, had ceased to exist.

He didn't just fuck me, He made love to me like no-one had ever done before. His slender hands, with their long taloned fingers, explored every part of my body. Unlike our first encounter prior to my initiation, he was as gentle as a mother with a newborn child. His saliva was no longer acidic, designed to burn and sizzle, but a sweet, cooling nectar that I knew I couldn't ever overdose on.

He lifted me off his massive shaft with only the rocking motion of His hips and the strength of His magnificent tentacle-like horns, then let gravity push me back down. I gripped Him with my rectal muscles as if I could hold Him inside me forever. The emptiness was far more painful than being impaled on eighteen inches of smooth, rigid flesh.

After a dozen or so penetrations, He embedded His cock in me for the last time. The head expanded to an enormous sized knot and, for the first time, I felt real pain that quickly became excruciating. I was sure I would be split in two. I tried my best to remain silent but failed miserably.

"Master! Please!" I yelled with as much energy as I could muster which wasn't much at all by that stage. "No more... hurts... so bad."

"Hush, little one. Remember just a little pain before the pleasure." He soothed me, placing His arms beneath my back and drawing me close to His chest. This altered angle allowed Him to go even deeper inside me, something I thought was physically impossible. I was sure his cock had entered my stomach by now.

"I know it hurts, pet, but you need it to hurt, you want me to hurt you. Don't you?"

He rubbed my back and stroked my sweat-drenched hair. He kissed me passionately, His forked tongue fucking my mouth and throat as if it was another cock. I was impaled and filled at both ends.

"Yes, Master," I sobbed, knowing it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"You will kill for me, pet." It was a statement, rather than a question but I knew he required an answer regardless.

"Yes, Master."

"You will die for me."

"Yes, Master."

Each statement and reply was punctuated by a powerful thrust of his cock. I felt as if my intestines being ripped to shreds, blood flooding my abdomen, tender organs like kidneys, liver and spleen being battered and bruised.

Then Master spasmed once, twice, three times before releasing his essence into my body. It was forced through my inside passages all the way to my mouth by the power of his orgasm. Father's modified semen, even at its hottest, was like iced water compared to Master's seed which was literally molten fire, thick and gluggy like lava fresh from a volcano.

He collapsed back onto His throne, shuddering violently with me shaking in His grip like a rag doll. I was a quickly discarded rag doll as He pushed me off His lap. I fell to the floor with a thud but didn't care one iota. I was His, now and forever. His seed ran out of my ass and dribbled down my chin. I was covered in bites from His sharp fangs and scratches from His long claws.

With a booming clap of His hands, Master announced, "I wish to feed." And so began the sacrifices, the true reason for the gathering.

They were more shocking and bloodthirsty than anything I could have imagined. A long line of naked men and women, their hands bound behind their backs with heavy iron shackles, heads covered with black hoods, were escorted into the cavern by servants. They walked slowly and without rhythym, more than a few of them stumbling, and I was sure they had been drugged into complete and total submission.

I lost count after the first dozen or so, only concerned with which ones Master would allow me to kill for Him. It thrilled me that so many were needed to take my place, to fill my shoes so to speak. Now it makes me sick to my stomach to think of how much horror could be inflicted on so many by so few and in such a short amount of time.

At the rear of the procession two pairs of heavily muscled men carried a boxy crate or cage suspended on thick poles. It swung wildly to and fro as if it contained a wild animal fighting to escape. Due to a heavy black covering, I couldn't tell whether it was in fact an animal or not. Even the loud growls and unintelligible sounds that could have been curses muffled by a gag defied identification as either man or beast.

It was set down next to the inverted wooden cross and secured in place with heavy chains. Despite this, the cage still shook violently. On a table beside the cross lay a shiny new hammer and a bag of large nails.

My attention was drawn back to the centre of the cavern as my siblings literally fought each other to get their hands on the captives, even though there were more than enough to go around. In groups of three or four, they pounced on each victim, throwing them to the stone floor. They raped and ravaged, mutilated and murdered with bare hands and teeth. The dead and dying were then dragged over and laid at our Master's feet.

I knelt proudly by His side, His chosen one, His prize possession. He had one tentacle wrapped firmly around my throat, the other gripping my cock and he fondled me continuously. Although I was basking in the glory of my position so close to Master, I also itched to slip my organic leash and join my Brothers and Sisters in the debauchery. I strained forward, Master's tentacle tightening around my throat until I felt light-headed and dizzy.

"Patience, pet. You'll get your turn soon."

I purred loudly with contentment, rubbing my face up and down his scaly leg, inhaling his rich, earthy scent.

Other victims were dragged over to the many torture devices scattered around the killing chamber. They were lashed to stretching racks where limbs were torn from sockets; bound to the stakes and set alight; forced to kneel, heads secured under the gleaming blade of the guillotine.

Within minutes, the air was filled with the agony filled screams of the damned, the metallic aroma of fresh blood mingling with the smoky odours of charred and burning flesh.

It was as if I had stepped into the pages of Marquis De Sade's "The One Hundred and Twenty Days of Sodom".

It was a frenzied orgy of bloody mayhem, revelry and slaughter that lasted maybe ten minutes. Corpses littered the floor of the cavern. Some were still pink and twitching with life, the flesh stripped to the bone in places, whilst others were blackened, dismembered and disembowelled. The choicest pieces of meat had been hacked off, hearts ripped from bodies whilst still warm and beating. These delicacies were presented to Master as the most sacred of offerings. He hand-fed me tasty morsels and I was in heaven as I licked His fingers clean of blood and offal.

When the supply of sacrificial victims was depleted, my siblings turned on each other. The younger, weaker ones were quickly overpowered by the stronger ones.

I was like a sick child kept inside on the day of the first real snowfalls, watching all my friends having snowball fights and being snowmen. I was more restless than before to join in and, this time, Master didn't hold me back.

"Go and play, pet," He said with a flick of His hand.

I thanked Him with a quick kiss on His cheek and hurried to join my brothers and sisters in a sexual free-for-all.

CONCLUDED IN PART 4