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1. Between God & What's Gone.

That day, she woke up with whorls of migraines circling her temple...


She was naked too


Then came the memories in bits, sending twangs of darkness through her throbbing eyelids

like a flood of lightning in a dark sky, like flashbacks;


—And there she sat naked amidst four boys, no five. One held the camera while the other four took turns on her.


Group Intimacy.


But she seemed happy; riding, she was smiling with a dick in her mouth


—sloppyhead,


smiling with weak sleepy eyes. Camera flashed. She had been drugged.


The last person she knew she was with was her school father. The school father she met on Facebook through the school's Fresher Group. The school father that had called her every nights to Chicken Republic for a bowl of ice cream.


The school father that had a bible and a rosary in his Benz, the Godfearing yahoo boy.


The last night at Chicken Republic, he complained about how he was tired of buying already made food. How he craved some delicacies. And she said she can come to his place and cook for him if he doesn't mind, what're school daughters for?


The next morning she dressed to look good for daddy. School father lived in a flat around the dead ends of West Side street. He paid the bike man, welcomed her with a chilled Fanta, and that was when she felt tired, dozing out with the beats of Brymo's Ara blasting from the huge stereo.


Fear gripped every nerves in her body. She knew she had been raped. But were they through with her yet? Regrets coursed through her mind, bringing her mother's warnings back to the surface, and it wetted her eyes. But wasn't all that too late?


They came in later after she got sober. And they raped her again. Five of them this time. They forced her to an oath to do any of their biddings, one of which was for her to steal panties from the Female Hostel for them, since that was where she stayed.


She stole about five panties for them before she had the nerve to tell anybody, before she had the nerve to stop going to them. In those days, she became closer to the fellowship than lecture theaters. She believed God for restoration and victory. She confided in the president of her fellowship, a female at the time. Together they prayed and fasted for days. And the yahoo boys disappeared miraculously from the town. They weren't students to start with.


Fast forward three years, and it seemed everything have been completely erased.


A lover of God now, and a graduate now, and her marriage with the former brothers Coordinator while she was the prayer coordinator of the same fellowship, was only in two weeks time when that video flooded the internet.


She— the former Prayer Coordinator of some fellowship in Ayede University— smiling with a sloppy dick in her mouth, seemingly enjoying her foursome.

2.

More please....

And please quote me when you update..

Nice one

3. Real Yoruba Demon

Bae didn't  know I'm not the one she's spent the night with yesterday. And that is not the first time I have to lend my form to an incubus for her. The real me visited my uncle yesterday, and the fact that he left for a business trip the same evening was not just some coincidence. 

It is easily to cast an aphrodisia spell on a lonely wife on a rainy night (this too, it's no coincidence) and Aunty Rachel, my Uncle's wife, was in no time begging me to have her. "To eat her out" in her exact words. That was when I sucked out her womb and the weight of it almost choke me to death. 

I prayed it is not as useless like that of the womb of Titi, my pastor's daughter, which I took two months ago and was rather a waste of time. The destinies are of lower grades. 

While recovering from the choke, white fire blazed in my groins and my skin prickled with searing discomfort for hours. The attack was from one of my prospective victim, Hannah. Hannah is an usher in my church, when I approached her with a relationship proposal, she was happy. 

You see, I'm one of those perfect brothers in church; well to do, handsome and godly (please understand, I'm a worker in church). I've only managed to get a kiss in all the three weeks we have agreed to put this in the hands of God. All my efforts to make her visit me in my house were been met by a combo of excuses and Bible passages. When she said she'll be doing a personal night vigil this weekend, I had thought she was lying. She is so modern and classic in dressing, style, and carriage that I thought all her avoidances and God-talks are mere charades to launch her godly wife material to me. But I was wrong. That searing pain in my groin is a proof of that. 

A message popped up just now; Aunty  Rachel's womb had a 5-star destiny. 5-star! No need of asking what else was there, a 5-star don't share womb with anything lower than a 3-star. I'm definitely getting promoted soon. 

I want to laugh loud and scream, but damn! My groins hurt. I'm definitely breaking up with Hannah tomorrow.