The acts participated in Crowleys rites are both foul and depraved. Barring the haunts that have troubled my residence I would deem his coven nothing more than a love cult. Couplings unnatural occurred before my eyes! My dismay served more a drool amusement to the patriarch of these affairs, Crowley himself.
The eve began banal in contrast to the events that would follow. A meeting of various parties discussing the goings of the day. The wine was pleasant, though Tuscan, and the open grove of trees where this transpired of mild temperament. A dinning table awaited the quests set with fresh fruit acquired from exotic shores, displayed in a show of opulence. This was all very unexpected after my visit to the low quarters Mr. Crowly maintained, and I expect a farce of wealth. The other participants bore the manners of the well breeding and family money. Though this can also be said of Crowley himself.
The dinning was the first sign of the direction the night would turn. Many exotic meats were arrayed before me, but most peculiar was a live macaque held in an elaborate wicker box which served to restrain the animals head. Guest were invited to smash open the poor animals skull and partake of the still warm brain flesh. I did not indulge myself of these delicacy, faining myself an anti vivisectionist as advised by Mathers.
This served to only well Crowley's interest. He grew almost physically excited with my further revealing my chastity as the evening progressed. His interest at first seemed the yearning to see me defile myself in his revelry, but I began to understand he saw me as a rare tool that could be used. For what I can only conjecture.
I followed one couple whom left early claiming a weakness to the night air and fearing a chill. My escape now finds me awaiting Mather and Yeats return to my residence.
Yours very truly