Locis Muliebris: The Forbidden Kiss

By Anwynn Edgar & Sarah Thorn


The Magickal HARLEY MS, Roll T11: The Measured Wound of Christ

Introduction by Nameless Therein

Even in one of the world’s most demonized subcultures, sex in the ONA is tacitly taboo. Between allusion and outcry, we find the same brow-beaten, chest-pounding outliers – young men proclaiming their machismo with sexually repressed gestures of passive-aggression; we find the curious and the titillating, a desire for connection, those who shy away from intimacy in the guise of lust; and we find those who have cultivated healthy sexual relationships through deep affection and a willingness to explore, both in familiar and ritualized settings involving powerful sexual union.

Why taboo then? Because on the occasions where sex is mentioned, it is either falsely caricatured by our opponents as all that society abhors or is relegated to a world of self-contained fantasy by associates. What many onlookers fail to realize is that the ONA is comprised of consenting adults whose lust and love for each other is only rivaled by their lust for life.

But how many associates are actually equipped to arouse their partner to the state of primal sexual ecstasy required for real magick? In a world dominated by pornography, how many still have the imaginative faculties to try? How many are willing to open themselves completely to the forces of love and death in the acausal flash of orgasm that form a connection to the very dimensions they haughtily claim dominion over? And how many are willing to risk the violent rending of flesh and spirit in the act of opening itself – one requiring real contact, trust, and tremendous vulnerability with a partner?

Sadly, the public face of sexuality throughout much of the world is still very much what Julius Evola calls a “profane erotic field,” one in which “the majority of people will not recognize the deepest meanings that we shall ascribe to love in general and even to the crude act that expresses and ends it.”[1] But crude or not, sex itself doesn’t have to be a solemn act of savage tragedy, nor does it have to be a weighty metaphysical mystery. Sex is profoundly human, an activity best performed without thinking – a reception, a giving, not a thought.[2]

Gore Vidal rightly notes that “sexual fantasy is as old as civilization.”[3] And though in modern society that fantasy can humorously take the form of a sexual epitaph – “I’ll tell you who I was thinking of if you’ll tell me who you were thinking of”[4] – the ONA attempts to offer something more. For those who prefer “the solitary act” in the theater of the mind, the internet is well-stocked with “merchants of smut”[5] to appease the lonely and the lustful. But for those who do want something more, who yearn, who love, who desire – what follows is for you.

This account by Mr. and Mrs. Thorn is both instructive and illustrative of what sometimes goes on behind closed doors, both in homage to new faith and willing flesh.

Nameless Therein
September 30, 2022


[1] Julius Evola, The Metaphysics of Sex, trans. Inner Traditions (Rome: Edizioni Mediterranee, 1969; New York: Inner Traditions, 1983), 2. Citations refer to the Inner Traditions edition.

[2] Evola aptly quotes Mauclair on this point: “In love, acts are carried out without thinking, and its mystery is evident only to a tiny minority of human beings.” Metaphysics, 3.

[3] Gore Vidal, “On Pornography,” The New York Review of Books, March 31, 1966, https://www.nybooks.com/articles/1966/03/31/on-pornography/.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

I. Osculum Infame

In the Order of Nine Angles the act of Locis Muliebris, also known as cunalingus, is performed as an esoteric technique to rouse the flame of Satanic elán within a woman who is the key to the gate that leads to the land of the Dark Immortals. Failure to perform this act with excellence and grace exempts the would-be Sinister adherent from many of the quintessential elements, both practical and ceremonious, that make up Traditional Satanism.

Locis Muliebris is an act of sharing, and an act of empassioning between two individuals. The sorcerer who is privileged with the rite to deliver this act, should never squander this, or treat it lightly. To be invited to perform Locis Muliebris on an individual, and especially in an esoteric manner, is an honour that is not bestowed lightly. From a purely phainómenal point of view, an individual who opens their loins to another has developed a level of trust. From the physically-angulared positioning of the act, each person is thus compromised in their own way. Two guards are placed at resting ease, while the act commences.

As an Esoteric act of Oral Sex Magick, this is perhaps the most empathic rite known to humankind, and otherwise. It requires both causal and acausal awareness, as well as a sequencing of connexion, symbiosis, and mimesis. Those who are seasoned Oral Sex Magickians are equipped to receive the full import of the aforementioned sequence. While I could define such a sequence’s competents in further detail, I would urge those interested in the secrecy to learn-from-experience.

To begin, spread the labia minora with a single hand, using the two central fingers (or: “the Vulcan Greeting”), and with the other hand, run the and aright, open hand upward the mons pubis, thus “opening” the area, exposing the corpus cavernosum and vestibular bulbous in their hidden glory. With the use of the tongue, strike true upon the glans clitoridis, with a heavy, slow cadence, whether vertical or horizontal in nature, or both, but it is best to never abandon one method too soon for another. During this time, the woman is slowly guided to the point of ecstasy, and the primary job of the forbidden kisser, is to in a steady manner, move with the recipient in causal and acausal manner toward the arch of climax. Esoteric techniques are introduced as you walk the woman up this ladder, such as vibration, which becomes increasingly receptive as the act develops. A preconceived formula, preferable to be derived from those provided in the Septenary System, such as the Bathyllic “Hriliu” may be used. This is the received language of Sappho, and while this and Enochian are precursors that were to be eventually outmoded in the development of the ONA’s history, not only are they still used by Traditional Nexions in Europe and America, but they are as effective as it comes.

Searching for useful Bathyllic formulae can be painstaking, as it was originally transmitted by one failed-poet who was once knocked forcefully to the ground with a single punch from the curator of the Dublin Hermetic Society. However, it is important to remember that aside from the traditional Venusian word-of-power, others may be used. It is not the word itself that lends to the effect, but the Empathy and Empassioning that it instigates. It is therefore most important, that the feeling, as in fellow-feeling, and fellowship, is attained. That a shared rise in body and spirit conjoins and sings as one body, one spirit. The levels of acausal energy that emanate from the rebis and hierosgasmos, is unlike any other.

Removing the secondary hand from the mons pubis while the act is continuing, insert the middle two fingers with the liberated hand into the cavity of the vulva, moving toward the anterior wall of the vagina. This is a highly erogenous zone, capable of stimulating orgasm. If you are performing the Nine Angles Rite in its Natural form, there is no worry to be had regarding a coordinated orgasm. Women are capable of multiple orgasms if a careful execution of these methods are performed. The act of penetration is often best received after an initial orgasm occurs via the Locis Muliebris.

When the gräfenberg has been successfully located, a spiraling motion with one or two fingers either deosil or widdershins, it matters not, can be used along with visualization and frenzy magick techniques provided in NAOS, which through the already multidimensional connection fully established, will be experienced by both participants. There can be at this point, if it is not the Nine Angles Rite being performed, some outcome wrought into thine own vision, as the orgasm, and scream, accompanied by a formula decided on beforehand are joined together in the esoteric continuum.

Anwynn Edgar Thorn
Fenrir Journal

Part II: The Mound of Madness

The act of Locis Muliebris is elusive and occulted from the supine masses. While an ethos of “sans denotatum” is a great ethic to internalize, when dealing with the passions of women, this can never suffice. Sex, of any nature, with a woman, is never just a physical or emotional act. It is a wraparound spiritual performance of deep entwining.

We women have our Satanic elán stoked by a genuine binding of our souls, and to this, two things are critical. First, what mundanes call “for-play.” Secondly, what mundanes call “pillow talk.” Speaking to us in a manner which enthrones who we are and what is desirous about us, and what YOU desire about us, is one of the most important elements of the Rite of Nine Angles. I have shared countless seasonal, thernning stills-in-time with my husband who has mastered the inferno of my soul, and he does it in this manner.

He bids me welcome from my day with a long-prepared stratagem. I am greeted home with a dimly lit ranch, in rural America, upon arrival. There are Tiger Lilly pedals (my absolute favorite) lined from the wineglass of the kitchen to the distant hill of our acred property where there is a tetrahedron of the right size buried. He the there, pale and empassioned, and wined without coverings beckoning me. I ascend the valley upward and breathe in the dank scents of a propitious incense, sometimes variant depending on the night. I am filled with life.

I rush into his arms and we connect in a Baphometic embrace. Lips-upon-lips, breath-into-breath, tongue-upon-tongue. He looks deeply into my eyes with happiness and fulfillment, and whispers “Nythra Kthunae Atazoth,” to which I respond the same. Three times in response and then together we vibrate the formula once more.

He takes me by my hands, lifting them skyward and romances my neck and shoulders, as I say “Binan Ath,” and he responds “Ga Wath Am,” though never pausing his worshipping of my frame.

He then lays me down with surety that my head is facing north. I am smiling in anticipation. My heart is racing. He is still focusing on my neck, and whispering those secret thoughts that only we share. He is telling me those thing I have heard regularly as the seasons change, and yet, they always seem new.

He is getting lower, and our hands are now clenched, gripping tighter. Then he releases me, and now he is near that secret garden that only he tends. He is spreading the ivy vines and peering into the ether. Further apart, and upward, in complete reveal.

First his nose moves near, and he inhales my efflorescence, with a moan of pleasure. Then, as if all-at-once his whole frame of face moves forward and I am being brushed by his tongue. He has a heavy, slow repetition, and there is a known-chorus with known texture that is lapping at my loins. I grab his head and with a symbiont-type will, I pull his eager crown further into my whetted cleft. The pace is slowly picking up, and he is aligning to my body’s movements. Sweat is beading on my forehead and the momentum is gaining. The pulse is growing, and I can feel – I can see- the acausal continuum opening.

It’s all around me, that blue light, damp and living. It’s speaking to me. It says “Sarah, we are here…once more…”

In my distraction of visual and auditory perceptions, I have been worked to climax and I am screaming now, spraying my potions all over his face. Pushing his face more and more into me. It is a mess of chaos, and he pushes still. With heaving breath, flesh now smeared in perspiration, and my garden now watered, I am panting and reaching for him.

“Take me and master me! Take me now you devil, or I will have your head!”

He moves his body upward now and slides with ease his nine-inch thick penis into me. My head jolts backwards and I am now undulating in ecstasy. Above me, there is a fracture in the black horizon, and I can see sparks leaving its lips. He is penetrating me again and again, and I can no longer tell what is real and what is fantasy. Something is approaching. He is going faster, lifting one leg up and going deeper.

It’s beyond due limits, as his throbbing member is battering my cervix. Suddenly my eyes become transfixed on the astral gate, and my facial muscles are growing tense. I hear myself panting, which transforms into a yell, and then a scream. He now has both legs raised upward, and I am as a Dark Queen when the rift shoots wide open. He is ejaculating in me, and I am all over him and the grassy hilltop.

Black smoke plumes from the rift above and I can smell something alien and horrifying. For almost a moment, I can see the head of a dragon form, but then it explodes into the bloom of dispersion. The cloud dives deep and engulfs us. Soon, all I can see is my husband and the specks of starlight among the black smoke. Nothing seems real, but he is there, still inside of me, staring into me, through me and seeing me- who I am. I want to die now while I am happy, and yet, I am filled with life.

I pull him closer and whisper into his ear, “Aperiatur et Germinet Acausalis.” He is breathing heavy and I am breathing heavy… and I never want this to end.

—For Those Who Have Risen beyond the gate of Saturn—

Sarah Thorn
Fenrir Journal