Nudity and sexual lewdness and perversion are commonplace at most rituals. It does not matter if the female is willing or unwilling. In fact, it is believed to bring more pleasure to Satan if she is unwilling.
The female "sacrifice" is put on the altar, which is commonly draped with a red velvet cloth (red being the satanic color for anything of a sexual nature). She is raped, oftentimes brutally, by any of the male members who wish to have her. They often are so drugged by heroin, coke, or some other drug, or so bombed out on alcohol, that the rape becomes pure sexual torture. To satisfy their own perverse cravings and do what they think will bestow upon them stronger satanic powers, the male members perform crude sexual acts, often of a bestial-like nature. Sometimes the female is seriously injured physically. To keep her from even thinking about telling the police or anyone else, the high priest calls upon demonic spirits to do something of such a diabolical nature that she will be frightened into silence. She is told that these evil spirits will get her if she steps out of line. And well might she take that threat to heart, for it is not just an empty threat. Those spirits are real!
One time Victor told me about a young housewife and mother who had become bored at home. She accepted an invitation from a couple of her closest friends to attend a meeting. It turned out to be a meeting of witches. At first she was leery, but something kept drawing her back until months later she joined a satanic coven.
In her eagerness to be accepted, and through much coaxing by the other members and a word of admonition from the high priest, she offered herself as the sexual offering at the end of one of the rituals. As is often the case, the woman was put through more than what she could excuse as part of a religious ceremony.
That night when she went home, she suffered some physical complications. She phoned one of the two friends who had invited her to the initial meeting and told her she was going to the hospital to be examined. She asked the friend if she would come over and babysit her children, since her husband was away on a business trip.
The friend told her she would come over, but reminded her of her vow to secrecy and warned her that she might regret it if she told anyone what had happened. The young housewife told her friend that she didn't care—that she couldn't live this kind of life any longer. She would rather die than go through anything like that again.
So the friend came over. The victim started her car and drove toward the hospital. But she never made it. She died instantly in a grisly car accident. One of the police officers on the scene told the victim's husband that he had never seen a freak accident quite like that before. He couldn't explain how or why it had happened. In fact, from all he could determine, it shouldn't have happened at all.
When Victor reached this point in the story, he put his hand up to the side of his mouth and secretly said, "What the policeman didn't know was that the lady's friend had called the high priest before she went over to babysit and told him that they were about to be ratted on." Victor went on to relate how the high priest had summoned an evil spirit to place a curse on her that would cause her to die in whatever manner it chose before she reached the hospital.
To my disgust, Victor stuck out his chest and proudly announced, "You know what? It worked! The screws [cops] won't ever know what happened."
That kind of incident was not as unusual as one would like to think, and they were all too eagerly recounted to any victim who gave even the slightest indication that she might cause trouble. Understandably, the stories were most effective.
A New Business
The sexual perversion during satanic rituals interested Victor not only as a high priest, but also as a pornographer. He was an astute businessman, and it didn't take him long after he was installed as a high priest to recognize that there could be a very lucrative marriage between his rituals and hardcore porn. There was sure to be a market for such heretofore-unknown types of films and videos. There could hardly be too much blood and gore. There could hardly be too loud a scream of pain and agony. There could hardly be too much mutilation. There could hardly be too much partaking of the flesh of sacrificed body parts or too much drinking of blood that was drained into a crucible.
These films, videos, and photographs were not sold to the stereotyped "dirty old man" in seedy porno shops. Victor marketed them to doctors, lawyers, corporate businessmen, and high-level political figures. Only they could afford the thousand dollars per photo or the five to twenty thousand dollars per film or video. The more barbaric, cold-blooded, and unrestrained the acts of Satan were, the more Victor could get for the film. In fact, the more diabolical they were, the greater the demand.
Because I was Victor's "woman," I was privy to information that most of the other victims never learned. Occasionally I'm sure I heard discussions that were not intended for my ears; in fact, I wished I had not heard them. But Victor was very proud of his little empire. He was fond of bragging about how he had started with nothing. If you didn't know better, you could easily get misty-eyed listening to stories of his boyhood poverty. Then with a sweeping gesture of his arm, after making you feel so sorry for him, he would boast, "And now all of this is mine. All mine!"
One evening he had had too much to drink. As he was boasting about his accomplishments to me, the phone rang. When he answered it, he forgot that I was there. It was obvious to me that he was talking to someone he knew quite well. They were discussing the buying and selling of some of his photos and films.
"Look, Bud," Victor said impatiently, "You're offering peanuts for a product that's worth more than gold. Do you know what the market is? These are one-of-a-kind. You won't find them anywhere else. So stop playing dumb with me!"
For the next few minutes, sums in the thousands of dollars were bandied about. "All right, fifteen thousand for that one," Victor agreed. "You drive a hard bargain."
Once during the discussion, I jerked in my chair in response to what he was saying. Victor looked up and suddenly realized I was still in the room. "Get out of here and shut the door behind you," he barked.