Twink on Top: The Houngan

Here’s the entirety of Twink on Top: The Houngan, a hardcore noncon tale from the Twink on Top series! It’s about a sexy Haitian villain forced to submit! It’s only $0.99 with the coupon code XA27L!

Jonal waited until the stars and the moon were just right to maximize his power over the loa. It shouldn’t have been necessary to do that, but he wanted to have the greatest chance of success. He didn’t just want to control Vernand — he wanted to utterly dominate him.

Vin jwenn mwen…

He didn’t really know it worked, but in his heart, he knew it did work. He could feel it even before he sat down to pray to his loa, and then saw what was happening, with his mind’s eye. His spiritual vision was hazy, but it was enough to know that his spell was a success.

On the other side of Port-au-Prince, in a shanty-town, there was a circle of men sitting around a raging fire. One of them was playing drums, and the others were playing cards. One of the card-players was a tall, broad-shouldered man in dreadlocks. He had dark skin marked with scars and a faded tattoo from his old military batayon.

He was the biggest man in the shanty-town, with muscles bulging from his sturdy frame. He was menacing too. The others were frightened of him. They allowed him to win at cards — Jonal could tell that because the loa could read their minds. Even though Jonal aimed the spirits at the man, Vernand, he could get some superficial information from the minds of the other homeless men as well.

That man stood up, dropping his cards, leaving behind the money that had been resting in his lap. He walked, propelled by the loa that Jonal commanded from afar. He screamed, begging someone to stop him, but there was nothing anyone could do.

Ou yo ale nan mouri nan labou a, sa ki mal nonm…

Not that anyone tried to help. Nobody liked the man, whose name was Vernand. Nobody there in the shantytown knew who he was, but Jonal knew. He had just been released from prison; no one behind bars knew who Vernand really was either. But Jonal had known even then, even before Vernand had been released.

He had been waiting for a long time. He was glad that Vernand had not been killed in prison, though that would have been a fitting end. Jonal had been looking forward to getting his revenge ever since his sister was raped and murdered.

Vernand had done it. He was a soldier then, in the Haitian army, and he had raped her in the street, just because he could. Because he knew that no one would stop him.

Jonal had not had the power to stop him then, and by the time he did, Vernand was in prison. Now he was out, and he walked against his will through the streets of Port-au-Prince. Jonal was glad he had resisted his soul’s demand for revenge while Vernand was still imprisoned — Jonal could have easily made sure he was tortured, raped and kill in there. But Jonal didn’t want that to happen.

Because Jonal wanted to do that himself. He wasn’t going to let Vernand be tortured by someone else.

“Yon moun ede m ‘, tanpri, yon majisyen pran kò mwen an!” Vernand screamed. Jonal allowed him to do that. Vernand had control over his mouth for the moment, but nothing else. People looked at him strangely as he walked through Port-au-Prince, but no one stopped to help him. Vernand had no friends, and anyway, no one wanted to get involved. They all knew how much power magicians like Jonal had, and they weren’t going to risk their own safety by getting involved. Even the handful of good Samaritans who looked like they considered it changed their mind when they saw Vernand’s military tattoos — they knew what that meant: Vernand had been part of the villainous soldiers who raped and murdered with abandon during the Duvalier regime. No one was going to lift a finger to help someone who had been part of that hellish era.

Jonal waited in his home. He had a large house with a manicured lawn around it. Not many people in Haiti could claim that, but Jonal was a business success. Since his sister’s rape and murder, Jonal had made himself into a tycoon — he knew he needed more power to punish Vernand, and he had spent years building up a business empire to make it possible.

The wait was difficult. It took Vernand hours to walk all the way over here. Jonal couldn’t make him walk faster, since Vernand fought him every step of the way.

Finally, however, he had arrived. Jonal warned the two security men at his gate, so they let Vernand in, ignoring his plaintive cries for help. Vernand was tall and broad-chested, and he could only speak through gritted teeth — Jonal didn’t allow him to open his mouth all the way. The security guards didn’t even hear Vernand’s words exactly, so they didn’t know he had no control over his body.

Eventually Vernand stood in the hallway of Jonal’s house. There was a picture there of Jonal’s sister, but it did not look like Vernand recognized her. Why would he? He had probably raped and murdered a hundred girls just like her.

He ripped his shirt off his chest, then pulled his pants down. Jonal was in the other room, controlling him through the loa. In his mind, he could feel Vernand’s muscles writhing as he struggled against the vodou power compelling his movements. Jonal had always been a thin, weak man — that was why he became a hougan in the first place. He knew he could never succeed based on physical prowess, and in the midst of civil strife and war, Jonal’s intellect was of little value. He could only work on his spiritual power.

Now Jonal commanded an army of loa. He had built a business empire with the spirits he had made deals with. He could have done anything he wanted to Vernand. But there was only one thing he wanted to do.

At least, one thing for now.

Vernand’s muscles were shiny in the well-lit hallway, because he had sweated profusely as he fought against his body the entire way over here. His muscles remained tense. He was stark naked, his massive cock dangling between his legs. It must have hurt to be raped by that huge manhood, Jonal thought. He approached Vernand and gave him enough freedom to speak.

“Who are you?” Vernand spat out his words like he had to fight against his own throat to speak.

“Your worst nightmare. I am your punishment embodied,” Jonal said. He lightly tickled Vernand’s muscles, which twitched beneath his touch.

Vernand wept like he had been expecting this for some time. He wanted to fall to his knees, to collapse to the ground, but Jonal didn’t let him at first. Vernand’s chest heaved as he tried to sob. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Then Jonal allowed it. Vernand fell to the ground, on all fours. He wept and begged for mercy, but Jonal just listened and caressed his long, coarse dreadlocks.

“Lift up your head,” Jonal said. He allowed Vernand just a bit of control over his body, enough that Vernand could choose to follow Jonal’s command or not — when he chose not, the loa forced Vernand to do it anyway, but more painfully.

Vernand’s dark hair and bearded face looked up into Jonal’s eyes. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out.

Jonal cackled as thunder clapped outside. It began raining hard, the sound of water pounding on the roof becoming deafening. Jonal had to raise his voice to be heard. “Prepare to be no longer a man, Vernand. You will be nothing but submission. You will be filth. You will never be clean again.”

He pushed the tip of his limp cock onto Vernand’s tongue, and he allowed Vernand to gag furiously. Vernand tried with all his might to bite down, but Jonal didn’t let that happen. He pushed his moist cocktip in deeper into Vernand’s mouth.

All he could do was retch and choke as Jonal slowly fed his dick down Vernand’s throat. A loud throaty sound escaped from Vernand’s mouth, and Jonal had to suppress a laugh at his frenzied reaction — Jonal didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere by laughing. Luckily he could smile and giggle a bit, since Vernand couldn’t see from his position or hear over the sound of the thunderstorm outside.

Letting his fingers grip Vernand’s scalp through his dreadlocks, Jonal began to slam his hips in. He fucked Vernand’s face, making his balls slap against Vernand’s chin with every thrust of his cock down his tight throat.

If it weren’t for the loa controlling his body, Vernand could not have deep-throated Jonal’s dick, that much was obvious. His neck instinctively fought back, trying hard not to accept the taste of dick. In Haitian culture, the fact that Vernand took dick, even against his will, made him an accursed figure, less of a man. Now that one man had fucked him, others would too — he would be seen as a prostitute and a slut, whom no man need respect.

Ou pa janm yo pral yon nonm ankò!

Jonal was relentless. He enjoyed the loud retching sound of Vernand’s throat as he leaked precum down his gullet. Jonal savored the spiritual struggle as well — it was easy for Jonal, who was much stronger in the ways of the loa. It felt like Jonal was physically holding him down, even though Vernand outweighed Jonal by more than a hundred pounds of solid muscle. Jonal very rarely outmuscled anyone, so it was a delightful, arousing feeling. He savored the utter submission Vernand felt every time Jonal let go of his control, just in part and just for a second, long enough to give Vernand a feeling like he could fight back.

Then Jonal made Vernand’s asshole twinkle and clench, forced his jaw to open so wide it ached and nearly snapped — Jonal had utter control and could have shattered the man’s jaw as he fucked his throat, but he didn’t. He knew it was more humiliating to make it feel like Vernand’s body was cooperating, allowing himself to be treated like a loose woman.

Jonal fingered Vernand’s ass, just hugging the rim with one finger while it twitched and clenched. That made Vernand know what was happening next, and he wept. Tears ran in rivulets down his dusty cheeks.

“Now we move on to the real punishment,” Jonal said. “Do you know what this is for?”

As he spoke, he pulled his cock out of Vernand’s mouth. He used one hand to wipe up all the excess spit that clung to his shaft, and he smeared it all over Vernand’s tense face. Vernand spat and sputtered. He yelled curses as he heaved for air, but Jonal had protections in place — no loa heard Vernand’s curses or pleas for help.

“Huh? Say it, girl-man. What are the loa punishing you for now?”

“For… my sins!”

“That is too vague,” Jonal said. He kneeled behind Vernand, who was so tall that even bending over wasn’t enough — Jonal still couldn’t reach his cock into Vernand’s ass. So he made Vernand kneel on his knees, with Jonal kneeling as well behind him. That placed Jonal’s smooth face right in the narrow groove in the center of Vernand’s muscled shoulders.

“I have… murdered.”

“Yes, but tell me more.”

“I have raped,” Vernand said. He hung his head in shame, then bit his lip as Jonal shoved the tip of his cock in. Vernand writhed and struggled against the loa who kept him in place. Jonal didn’t need to use his powers to sense the agony in Vernand’s body — he could feel it in the tension in his back muscles and in the way he sucked in his breath.

“Who did you rape?!”

“I do not know their names,” Vernand said through his tears. His dreadlocks shook as he cried.

Jonal grabbed one of his dreadlocks with each hand, using them like a yoke around a mule. He ground his hips, pushing a bit more cockmeat into Vernand’s ass. He pulled on those dreadlocks until Vernand lifted his head up. Jonal aimed his eyes right at the photo of Jonal’s sister.

“Do you recognize her?”


“You raped her. In 1959, you raped her in the street like a dog. You held her down and raped her mouth, her womanhood, her ass like a dirty prostitute, but worse because you did not pay her. You just slit her throat and let her die there in the dirt,” Jonal said. That reminded him why he was doing this, not for fun, but for justice. He thought he shouldn’t be enjoying this too much or the loa might punish him for it later.

As he spoke, Jonal worked more and more of his cock in. Finally every bit of it was inside Vernand’s tight ass, which clenched and tore. A few drops of blood even smeared over Jonal’s crotch. Vernand would have been screaming at the top of his lungs if Jonal allowed him to, but Jonal wanted to be sure Vernand heard everything Jonal said. Besides that, if he was too loud, he might attract attention from the security guards outside — Jonal had protections in place to be sure he wouldn’t be surprised, but he preferred to keep Vernand quiet enough not to get their attention in the first place.

“Say you’re sorry,” Jonal said.

“I’m sorry!”

“Are you? Are you really?” Jonal asked. “Say you’re sorry again. Beg me to forgive you.” This time, he didn’t force Vernand’s mouth to say anything.

“Fuck you!” Vernand shouted.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Jonal said. “Because it means I get to keep punishing you.” He slammed his hips down, shoving his cock all the way in. He groaned as his balls slapped against Vernand’s muscled thighs.

Vernand writhed and squirmed. Jonal allowed him a little more control over his body. He made sure only that Vernand couldn’t fight him off or push away from him. Instead Vernand heaved and yelled into the floor, on which he contorted wildly.

It was difficult to remain mounted on his body because he moved so much, but Jonal enjoyed the struggle. He gripped Vernand’s body tightly and pulled on his dreadlocks. The more Vernand moved and tried to expel Jonal’s cock from his ass, the tighter it was and the more pleasure flowed through Jonal’s body.

“What are you going to do from now on?”

“What?!” Vernand screamed. His eyes were blurry with tears, his mind dizzy and confused.

Jonal pulled on his dreadlocks so hard a few drops of blood appeared on his scalp. Vernand’s wild eyes bugged out of his sockets. He slammed his massive fists onto the ground and bucked his back, which Jonal allowed because it sent a wave of pleasure up his body while causing a tortuous twinge in Vernand’s ass.

“I asked you what you’re going to do from now on,” Jonal asked. “Huh? You’re not in the army anymore. So what?”

“I don’t know!”

“You’ve been robbing people, right? Tourists when you can, or whoever else is available. Right?”

“Yes, yes…” Vernand said. He bucked his hips again and wept into his muscled forearm.

“Well, no longer. You work for me now. You’re my slave. You’ll make up for the loss of my sister. You’ll never be able to make up for it, but I’ll enjoy making you try,” Jonal said.

“Yes, master,” Vernand said. His formerly arrogant voice was now weak and trembling.

“You’re going to be a prostitute,” Jonal said. That made Vernand buck and sob harder. Jonal ground his dick in deeper, moving it in little circles to be sure it caused plenty of pain. “Men will pay money to fuck you in the ass and in the mouth. They will turn you into a human pussy.


“Yes,” Jonal said. “You’re my slave now. I own you.”

“Yes, master,” Vernand said.

Jonal wanted to drag this out longer, but he felt an orgasm coming over him. He decided that he could keep playing later, but he wanted to finish this off and humiliate Vernand as much as possible. He had a whole lifetime to experiment with punishments, and if his spells had worked, Jonal would have the entire afterlife to continue it.

He gasped as the orgasm finally overcame him. He bucked and bit down hard on Vernand’s shoulder. Cum filled Vernand’s ass, a great big load of creamy hot cum that sloshed and spilled out of his ass. Vernand gagged because Jonal made sure he could taste it — he used magic to transfer Vernand’s tongue momentarily into his ass, so Vernand tasted every drop of cum mixing with his own filth and degradation. Vernand gagged violently.

The heat of Jonal’s seeped into Vernand’s body, spreading to every corner of his insides. Jonal sighed as Vernand screamed when Jonal returned his tongue to his mouth. His hips flexed like he was trying to push Jonal off, but the loa didn’t allow him to do much more than squirm.

That only made the orgasm even more intense. Jonal groaned, emitting a spine-tingling sound. Vernand cried into the wooden floor of Jonal’s mansion.

Finally he was done. Jonal pulled his limp dick out and slapped Vernand’s asscheeks. That sent another spasming wave of agony through his sensitive ass. Vernand barked like a dying dog.

Ramming his thumb into Vernand’s ass, Jonal pulled out wad after wad of cum. He made a big frothy mess in Vernand’s asscrack, letting the cum coat his deep black skin.

Then he wiped all that cum off on Vernand’s face. His untrimmed beard was white with semen, which he sucked off Jonal’s fingers. He gagged profusely as ass-slime hit his tongue, and he swallowed all of that anal filth off Jonal’s fingers.

“Now you lay here in your own mess and think about your sin,” Jonal said. “I’m going to think up new things to do with your body.”

“Yes, master,” Vernand said. His spirit was broken, which made Jonal smile — he hadn’t forced Vernand to say yes. Vernand had done that on his own because he had submitted. His soul was dead now, and Jonal knew he wouldn’t need to do much to keep Vernand under control.

But he wasn’t going to let go. Jonal had been working up to this for years. He had no intention of stopping, at least not until Vernand was used up and desiccated. This revenge was going to be even more fun than Jonal had thought.

Jonal smiled as he left Vernand there on the floor, so Jonal could clean himself up and decide what the next step would be. He was so excited he was already hard again. This, he thought, was going to make all of his study and struggle over the years worthwhile.

He’d finally have his revenge.

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