Monthly Archives: July 2014

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel Kapitel 20: Die Prüfung

 

 

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel

Kapitel 20: Die Prüfung

Von mypenname3000

Übersetzt von Horem

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Male/Female, Teen male/Teen female, Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Male/Females, Male/Teen male/Teen female, Mind Control, Female Domination, Orgy, Magic, Anal, Oral, Rimming, Ass to Mouth, Ass to Pussy, Incest

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.



Click here for Kapitel 19



Als Mark das Bett verließ, riss er mich aus meinem Traum. Ich hatte diesen Traum immer wieder. Meine Mutter, diese Hure hatte uns nicht verlassen und wir lebten alle glücklich als eine Familie zusammen. Und dann kam dann immer dieser Moment der Enttäuschung, wenn ich wach wurde und erkannte, dass es nur ein Traum gewesen war. Meine Mutter war wirklich weggelaufen, um mit diesem Musiker rumzuhuren. Zorn stieg in meinem Bauch auf, also drängte ich die Gedanken an meine Mutter mit Gewalt zurück. Die vergangene Nacht war fantastisch gewesen und ich fühlte mich immer noch gut. Ich wollte mir den Tag mit derartigen Gedanken nicht verderben. Sie hatte sich nicht um mich gekümmert, warum sollte ich also meine Gedanken an sie verschwenden.
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The Devil’s Pact Ghost of Paris Chapter 7: The Goddess in the Tutu

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

The Ghost of Paris Chapter Seven: The Goddess in the Tutu

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Male/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Exhibitionism, Anal Sex, Fisting, Public Sex

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.



Click here for Chapter 6.



Note: Thanks to b0b for also taking a look at this and finding some mistakes.

Tuesday, September 17th, 2013 – Paris, Texas

My pecker was still damp from Miss Cheshire’s cooch as I sat invisible at one of the library’s computers. The first thing I did when I entered the building was to give the hot librarian a nice tumble in the storeroom. I fucked her so hard against a shelf, a stack of books fell down on us. I kept right on plowing her cunt; no way was I going to let a few bumps and bruises stop me.
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The Devil’s Pact Epilogue: A Thousand Years

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Epilogue: A Thousand Years

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: No Sex

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated. To contact me, you can leave a comment or email me at mypenname3000@mypenname3000.com, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 53.



My heart was filled with despair. The Living Gods were dead. All I could do was stare blankly at the wall, my mind full of ash. They had reshaped the world, and now They were gone. What were we to do? Who would look after us and protect us? Already heretics had arisen, decrying Them as false, and putting to torch Their churches and temples. And then They appeared in my dreams. “Have faith,” He spoke, His voice booming like a thousand trumpets. “We are not gone. It was time for us to leave this world, departing for a better one. But we still watch you, we still love you, and all you have to do is call upon us and we shall answer.” I made my Pact that very night.

–The Epistle of Isabel to the Faithful 1:1-3

I stood trembling at the crossroads, waiting.

Ever since I found a forbidden copy of the Glassnerian Gospels in my grandpa’s chest, and read the Epistle of Isabel, I had been filled with a foolish desire to summon the Tyrants. The Epistle claimed it was easy. Take a box, place a lock of your hair, a lavender flower, and the foot of a white rabbit in it, then bury the box at the center of a crossroads at midnight. Supposedly, the Tyrants of Hell, the Living Gods, would appear, and they would grant three wishes in exchange for your soul.

Despite the Church, copies of the Glassnerian Bible still floated about. And I couldn’t resist reading the copy I found when sorting through my grandfather’s house. Who knew the old coot was a heretic? The account of the Tyrants was so different from the Histories; not brutal dictators who enslaved mankind, but loving Gods that valiantly fought against the Demons and tried to create a Utopia before being murdered by Saint Chasity.

I shivered as I waited. It was spring, but the nights were still cold. It seeped into my body as doubts crept into my mind; nothing was going to happen. This wasn’t going to work—the Tyrants were just a myth. Nothing more than history that had been distorted by a thousand years of embellishment by storytellers and priests, or by mothers trying to frighten their children into behaving.

I knew all the stories, relishing them as a child: the Tyrants, Mark and Mary, who could enslave you with a single word, and who commanded the forces of nature itself; silver-tongued Alison and her demonic wife Desiree, who could suck out your soul with her kiss; April, with her eyes made of glass that would freeze a man solid if he ever caught her deadly gaze; Violet, who strangled men with the two serpents that grew out of her hair; siren Korina, whose doll-faced innocence lured men to their deaths; and their demonic Guard, a horde of vicious women led by the icy Chasity. If I wasn’t so desperate for a better life, for someone to pay attention to me, I would never have even tried this foolishness.

If I wasn’t so desperate for Elisbetta.

Feeling foolish, I turned to leave. Nothing would happen; it was just a myth that you could sell your soul to the Tyrants for three wishes. The moonlight dimmed, and I glanced up, expecting to see a dark cloud pass across its white, pockmarked face. Other legends claimed men had walked across the moon, crossing the dark void. What complete—

“Hello, Ysaak,” a man said.

I started, turning around. Two figures stood in the center of the crossroads. I hadn’t heard anyone approach, no footsteps crunching on the gravel or the rustle of brush. And the road had been empty a moment ago. One was a tall man, with dark brown hair, blue eyes shining in the moonlight. His arm was wrapped around a woman, who clung to his muscular frame. My breath caught—she was gorgeous—dark-red hair framed a heart-shaped, freckled face, green eyes twinkled with mirth, and a low-cut dress revealed an immodest swath of creamy bosom.

Sweat broke across my entire body. The Tyrants of Hell stood before me, and they seemed so…normal. Where was the fire and the brimstone? There wasn’t even a chorus of the damned. I was almost disappointed…except there was something in their eyes. An ancient, powerful, and inhuman presence that battered against my soul. These beings were as beyond me as I was beyond an ant. I swallowed, taking a step back.

“You don’t have to be scared,” the woman purred. “You summoned us, after all.”

“I want to sell my soul for three wishes,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack. My heart thudded like a woodpecker against a tree.

The man smiled, and looked at the woman. “Of course. My wife and I are more than happy to make a Pact with you.”

The End

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 53: The Fall of Rome

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 53: The Fall of Rome

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Males/Females/Teen female, Male/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Orgy, Wedded Lust

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated. To contact me, you can leave a comment or email me at mypenname3000@mypenname3000.com, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 52.



My name is Chasity Alberta Glassner, the Tyrants’ daughter. I write these words down so my motivations will not be lost to time, and so there will be no confusion, speculation, or misunderstanding about my actions.

–Excerpt from ‘The Tyrants’ Daughter: An Autobiography’ by Saint Chasity Alberta Glassner

Mark Glassner – May 9th, 2053

“I’m ready, Grandpa,” little Liza smiled at me.

Well, she wasn’t really that little at fifteen. She was my youngest grandchild, daughter of Marcelo and Calypso. The other grandparents, Alison and Desiree, watched happily as dusky-skinned Liza stretched out on the bed in a frilly, pink nightgown, her lush body peaking invitingly through the sheer fabric.

“I want you to be my first,” Liza cooed.

“You won’t regret it, mi Florecita,” Desiree beamed. Her arms were wrapped around our son Marcelo.

“Master knows how to use his cock,” laughed Alison.

“Yes, he does,” giggled Calypso. She was perched on her mother’s lap, her honey-brown hair, a slightly lighter shade then Alison’s, falling in a thick braid between her breasts. Alison leaned down, and licked our daughter’s nipple with her pierced tongue, then sucked the pink nub into her lips. “Umm, that’s nice, mom.”

“After I’ve made you a woman, are you sure you want to be bound to me?” I asked my granddaughter, sitting on the bed, my hand stroking her thigh.

“I want to lick your cum out of Great-Nana’s cunt,” Liza smiled.

“Just call me Nana,” my mom scolded. “You make me feel so old.”

My mom was a beautiful, mature woman. When I bound her in her early forties, her beauty had just ripened into its lush fullness, and she still looked the same, her body trim, her breasts just starting to sag. Mary cuddled up to my mom on a love seat, stroking my mother’s beautiful tits.

Liza rolled her eyes, “You’re ancient Nana. Like in your eighties. But you still look beautiful.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” my mom smiled, “and I’ll forget that you called me old.”

Mary gave her tit a squeeze. “You are definitely not old with a pair of tits like this, Sandy.” Then my wife bent down and sucked a pink nipple into her lips.

In a month, Mary and I would have been married forty years. She was fifty-nine, but still looked as youthful, and as beautiful, as they day we met. None of us had aged. Mary and I due to our Gifts, and our families due to the Zimmah ritual. Calypso and Marcelo still looked sixteen, Alison seventeen, and Desiree twenty-seven.

I stretched out beside Liza, a bit of apprehension in her eyes. “It’ll be okay,” I told her, bending down to gently kiss her tiny lips. She relaxed, kissing me back eagerly.

She wasn’t a bad kisser. I knew she’d played kissing games with her two older cousins Matt and Tamara, my two other grandchildren by my son Silas and his two wives. I let my hand touch her silk nightie, sliding up her side to grope her small breasts. After tonight, she’d be an A cup and fifteen for the rest of her life.

Her breast felt firm, her nipple hard, then I slipped my hand inside her bodice and felt her warm flesh directly. She shuddered delicately as I groped her small tit. Her kiss grew passionate, her tiny hands reaching out to feel my muscular chest, then sliding down to hesitantly grasp my hard cock. She traced my length up to the mushroom-shaped head. Her fingernail scraped my sensitive flesh; a shudder passed through me.

“Oh, Sandy,” I heard Mary moan.

I broke the kiss to see that my mother had slipped to the floor and had buried her face into my wife’s waxed pussy. Mary smiled at me, squeezing her freckled breasts and savoring my mother’s tongue in her pussy.

They weren’t the only family members making love. Desiree had mounted our son, his hard cock sliding into his mother’s cunt. Marcelo had his face buried in her pillowy breasts as her plump ass flexed as she rode him. Calypso sat next to her husband on the divan, squeezing Marcelo’s hand as Alison went down on her. Our daughter had gathered a handful of Alison’s honey-brown hair, pulling her mother’s face into her cunt. I sometimes missed Alison’s pink hair. It had been thirty years, I think, since she stopped dying it.

“Don’t forget about me, Grandpa,” Liza pouted.

“Sorry, but don’t they all look so happy?”

Liza giggled. “They do. We have the best family in the world. All of us loving each other, and…”

Her voice trailed off; she must have seen the pain in my face. My family wasn’t whole; I hadn’t seen my daughter Chase in sixteen years. She was the only child Mary and I ever had. Sure, we had other children with the sluts, but she was special. She was ours. Sometimes I would go days without thinking about her, and then I would be reminded about her and the pain would come crashing back. We did something to our daughter, something that disgusted her so much that she wanted nothing to do with us.

I think she found out the truth about us.

It was easy to forget that we were human when everyone worshiped us as their Gods. But we weren’t; my wife and I were just regular humans that sold our souls and made the most of it. But Chase was such an idealist, poisoned by some book she had read. Mary kept saying she’ll come back, we have eternity, we can be patient and let her work it out. After sixteen years, I was losing faith that I would ever see her again.

“Sorry, Liza,” I said, turning back to my beautiful, and very nubile, granddaughter. I slipped one of the straps of her pink nightie off her shoulder, pushing it down her arm. A dusky breast and a brown nipple was exposed. I couldn’t resist, and bent down and captured the hard nub, enjoying the feel of it between my lips.

“Umm, Grandpa!” Liza cooed as I sucked. “That feels wicked!”

My hand slid down her body as I worshiped her nipple, pulling up the hem of her nightie, and found her dripping, shaved cunt. I stroked around her labia, her sighs and coos filling my ears. Her body jumped as I slid a finger into her hot depths, finding her hymen. I had to taste her. I moved down her body, spreading her thighs, and inhaled her tangy honey.

“Holy shit!” she gasped as my tongue slid through the furrow of her pussy.

“You are in for a treat!” Mary purred. “Your grandfather gives the best head, for a man.”

My tongue found her clit. My granddaughter jumped, her thighs pressing tight about my head. Her fingers rubbed through my hair, gripping me as I worshiped her hard nub. Her hips started moving as I sucked, her sighs transforming into moans, loud and throaty.

“Oh, Grandpa!” she groaned. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! I’m gonna cum! Oh, fuck, this is so much better than my fingers.”

“I want to see you cum,” Calypso panted. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum. Let’s cum together, baby girl!”

“Yes, momma!” Liza moaned. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fucking yes!”

Calypso gasped, cumming on Alison’s hungry lips, as Liza’s orgasm seemed to explode through her. So much juice shot out of her pussy, I thought she was going to rocket right off the bed. Her enthusiasm seemed to set everyone else off; I heard Mary’s beautiful cries of passion, and Desiree’s rapture came out in her musical Spanish.

I kissed my way up my granddaughter’s body, nipping her nipple, before I reached her lips and let her taste herself. “Umm, I taste wonderful,” she giggled.

“Yes, you do, Liza,” I told her, then kissed her a second time.

“Grandpa?” she asked, apprehension returning to her hazel eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Can I be on top?”

I smiled, and rolled us onto my back. Her light body pressed atop me, lithe as she wiggled about. My cock ached to bury into her. Deflowering virgins was something I lived for. Every day, a pretty virgin out in the world won the lotto and was brought to me, eager to have a God make a woman out of her.

Mary stretched out beside me, a flushed, satisfied smile on her face, then she bent over and gave me a brief kiss. “Go slow, Liza,” she advised. “Don’t just jam your pussy on his cock. Let yourself stretch and give.”

“Yes, Grandma,” Liza said. Mary wasn’t technically her grandmother, but we had an unusual family.

Desiree slid on the other side of her, stroking Liza’s leg. “You’ll love his cock, mi Florecita.”

“I know I will, Abuela.” Liza answered, then bent down, and gave Desiree a passionate kiss.

Alison pressed up behind Desiree, nuzzling her wife’s neck. “I’m horny, wanna make me cum?”

Desiree rolled over. “I always do, mi Sirenita.”

“Oh, yes!” my mother moaned; Calypso had knelt before her, spreading her grandmother’s thighs and burying her face between her legs. Marcelo knelt behind his wife, and buried his cock into Calypso’s cunt; his eyes fixed on my mother’s breasts.

I was lost watching my son and daughter fuck my mother, but Liza’s pussy lips brushed my cock, bringing my attention back to her. Her weight slowly slid down my cock, engulfing me in warm, wet pleasure. She was tight the way only a virgin could be, her pussy stretching for the first time before a hard cock. She slid a few inches into her pussy, then stopped as I nudged her cherry.

She took a deep breath, “Here goes nothing.” Then she relaxed her thighs, letting her weight pull her down on my cock. Her hymen gave, bending before my cock, and then it snapped. She gasped in pain as her weight drove her pussy all the way onto my cock.

“I told you to go slow,” Mary said, sliding up behind the girl. She pressed her naked body against my granddaughter’s back, kissing Liza’s dusky shoulder. Mary’s pale arms wrapped around the girl. One hand grasped an apple-sized breast, while the other stretched down to play with her clit.

Her cunt tightened on my cock as Mary’s fingers found her little pearl. “Umm, Grandma, that feels nice.”

Her hips started to move. “How’s the pain?” Mary asked.

“It’s vanishing,” she purred, rising up and down. “Umm, and it’s starting to feel absolutely wild!”

“Good.” Mary licked her neck, up to her ear. “Move your hips, and lean forward or back. It’ll change the way his cock slides into you. Find what feels best, then ride him hard, my little peach.”

She leaned forward, rolling her hips, eyes widening. “Oh, wow! I see what you mean.”

Mary ground her groin against my cute granddaughter’s ass. “Give my horny stallion a good ride!”

“I will! The best ride!” Liza boasted.

She gave me a spirited ride, almost as good as my naughty filly’s, but no-one was quite as good as Mary. Liza’s cunt was a tight glove as she rode me. She turned her head to make out with my wife over her shoulder. Mary’s fingers stroked her hard clit, giving Liza two hard cums. Her cunt spasmed delightfully on my cock each time, bringing my balls closer and closer to flooding her once virgin hole.

“Fuck, your pussy is tight!” I groaned. “You’re about to get your first load!”

“Yes, Grandpa! Flood my cunt!”

Alison and Desiree, their faces sticky with each other’s cum, watched eagerly. “Flood her filthy hole, Master!” Alison cheered.

“I’m going to lick your cum out of her pussy, mi Rey!”

“I want that, Abuela!” moaned Liza.

Every muscle in my body seemed to tense as she rode my cock. The friction sent my balls to boil, my entire body tensing as my release neared. With a grunt, I flooded my granddaughter’s cunt. She slammed down on my cock, grinding her clit into my groin, and shuddered as another orgasm ripped through her body.

“Now you’re a woman,” Mary whispered in her ear.

Liza beamed and Desiree helped our granddaughter dismount my cock. True to her word, my Latina slut buried her face in Liza’s messy cunt as my mother joined me on the bed. I fucked her doggy style, pounding her snatch, as she ate out Alison’s cunt. The slut grinned at me, playing with her pierced nipples. I could just see her tattoo above my mother’s head. “Cum on in,” it read, with an arrow pointing down at her pussy. I remembered the first time I saw that tattoo in the Hot Topic store. Mary had been in the back, I think, trying on clothes, while I fucked around with Lillian and Alison in the front of the store, ‘training them’.

I missed those days—things were simpler. Mary and I were just having fun, not a care in the world as we fucked whomever we wanted. We didn’t have our family though. Our children and grandchildren and, one day, great-grandchildren. Family is what’s important, and I loved to share these special times with them.

With a grunt, I flooded my mom’s cunt. Her pussy convulsed about my cock before she collapsed on the tousled bed, spreading her legs wide for Liza. My granddaughter knelt down, and buried her face in my mom’s pussy, taking a big swipe. I cast the Zimmah spell; energy flowed from mom into me and Liza, chaining her soul to mine. She shivered, grinned at me, then buried her tongue into my mom’s pussy.

“What a delightful granddaughter I have,” my mom groaned.

“Great-granddaughter,” Liza corrected, an impish grin her on sticky face. An incestuous mix of cum and pussy juices dripped from her chin.

Mom grabbed her head and shoved her face back between her thighs. “You owe me at least two cums for saying that, Liza!”

“Yes, Great-Nana,” came Liza’s muffled answer.

My cock stirred. My wife laughed, gave my cock a few stokes, then knelt behind Liza. She spread the teen’s asscheeks, revealing her puckered sphincter, and tongued her. Liza gave a squeal. My daughter Calypso nuzzled my crotch, and sucked my cock into her mouth as I watched my wife rim my granddaughter.

“She’s ready,” Mary smiled, Liza’s asshole gleaming with spit.

“Do you mind, dad?” Marcelo asked.

“No,” I laughed. “She’s your daughter.”

Marcelo mounted the bed, his hard cock nudging his daughter’s ass. Liza gave another squeal as he forced his cock into her bowels. He fucked her slowly, leaning over her and grunting softly. Mary smiled, then giggled as Desiree and Alison launched a two front assault on her. Alison wiggled between my wife’s thighs, while Desiree sucked on her tits.

Calypso’s mouth popped off my cock. “You can fuck my ass, Daddy.”

She knelt next to her daughter, wiggling her face down to share my mother’s pussy. Liza’s and Calypso’s faces pressed together, lips kissing each other as much as they worship my mother’s cunt. Calypso’s fair ass, as perky as Alison’s, wiggled at me, and I spread her open and plunged in.

Much later, Alison and Desiree, their children, and grandchild, retired to the sluts’ bedroom to continue their celebration. I lay in bed; my wife pressed on one side, my mother on the other. Mary’s hand idly played with my chest hair.

“How are things between you and Betty?” Mary asked my mom.

I could feel Mom tense; for the last few months I heard there was some friction between my mom and her wife. “Getting better,” Mom answered. “She’s almost forgiven me my indiscretion.”

“It was only one village girl,” Mary said dismissively. “Hardly worth her getting upset over. And those Latin women can be quite…feisty.”

“Betty isn’t as comfortable with an open relationship,” my mom answered. “She doesn’t mind if it’s within the family, but she made it clear to me years ago that anything else is cheating.” I saw hurt, self-loathing, and disgust flicker across my mom’s face. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for monogamy. I cheated on your dad, and Maria was hardly the first village girl that found her way into my bed. I get weak sometimes, especially when we’re apart.”

“She knows that you love her, right?” I asked my mom.

“Of course she does,” Mom sighed. “It’ll sort itself out.” She shifted, then casually asked, “And how is Chase doing?”

It was Mary’s turn to stiffen.

“Well. She spent some time in a village on the Jordan, but her relationship with a local boy seems to have fallen apart. She walked south into Saudi Arabia, following the coast,” I answered. “Quatch is keeping tabs on her since she’s in his territory.”

“Like that fat friend of yours is good for anything,” Mary muttered, just loud enough for me to hear her.

“What was that, Mare?” I asked.

“Hmm?” She had a look of innocence on her face. “I didn’t say anything, hun.”

“Right, you…”

The golden power, the Gift, buried deep inside my soul for these last forty years, was torn away. I screamed in pain at the sudden loss, writhing on my bed as a piece of my being left a ragged, bleeding hole in my spirit. Mary’s anguished cry barely penetrated the fog of pain. I collapsed back onto the bed, awash in agony that suffused my entire being.

And then it was gone. My breath came in ragged gasps. I felt a little more tired, a little sluggish, as I sat back up. My enhanced strength, my reflexes, my stamina, were gone. What just happened?

“Chereb!” I shouted, holding out my hand, expecting my Celestial blade to appear.

Nothing.

“What’s wrong!” Mom gasped, staring at the two of us.

“What just happened, Mark?” Mary demanded, face ashen.

A faint red outlined her body. I swallowed, concentrating, and her aura sprang up red. Not the bronze of a Shaman, but the red of a Warlock. Her emerald eyes widened as she stared back at me.

“It’s gone, Mark!” my wife sobbed. “Someone stole our Gift!”

A sinking feeling entered my stomach. What did that mean?

“I am completely baffled, sir,” Sam replied an hour later as our inner circle met in the Matmown in the mansion’s basement. It reeked of musk, and the air was thick with dust. We hadn’t needed the Matmown since the Demon Wars ended. “I didn’t think it was possible for the Gift to be stolen outside of the Ganubath ritual. And that didn’t happen, right?”

“Definitely not,” Mary snapped. “Someone’s attacked us.”

“Maybe we should reactivate the Legion, mi Rey,” suggested Desiree, Secretary of War.

“They’ve been disbanded for twenty-five years,” I sighed. “They’re all into their fifties and sixties. The only combat-ready troops we have are the Bodyguards. And they only number three hundred.” Thirty years of world peace had negated the need for soldiers, or even police officers. Everyone on the planet was under our command.

“We should warn the Districts,” 51, Chief of the Guard, said. “I’ll start recruiting more to the guard. We do have a class of fifty in training every year in case we have any losses from accident. We could easily do six classes a year. I’ll have the guard doubled by this time next year.”

“Do it,” Mary said.

“Let’s reactivate the Legion,” Alison added. “We can use them to train fresh soldiers..”

“How are we going to arm them?” Jacob, Secretary of the Treasury, asked.

Rachel, one of his wives, sat next to him and nodded her support. “We mothballed most military hardware decades ago, letting the materials be used for the restoration. There’s, what, a plant that manufactures small arms for the bodyguards? That’s it.”

“And there’s the matter of transporting so many troops,” Leah—Jacob’s second wife, and our Secretary of Transportation—said. “Our fleet of airplanes is not large enough to mobilize entire armies. And Boeing only has one manufacturing line anymore. It would take years to ramp up production to more than a few airplanes a year.”

“There are boats,” my son Silas, Assistant Secretary of Transportation, pointed out. “We have plenty of freighters.”

“Those are slow,” Leah countered. “If we need to move troops rapidly, that will not be good enough.”

“Master can make Portals,” Lillian, Secretary of Energy, stated. “And so can Mistress. We used them during the Demon Wars.”

“For small troop movements,” I said. “It takes too much time to move more than a battalion through Portals.”

“We’re forgetting one thing, Mark,” Mary whispered. “The Gift. You can’t use the Ragily prayer any longer. Do you even have the Legion’s loyalty anymore?”

My stomach sank; she’s right. “We can’t afford to arm anyone not bound by the Zimmah ritual. Anyone else could be turned by a nun.”

“Then we must be vigilant, Master,” Violet, Secretary of Agriculture, declared after a moment of silence. “We should let the clergy be our eyes and ears. There is a church with a priest or priestess in every community. We should rely on them to inform us if anything unusual happens. Otherwise, we may be jumping at smoke.”

Violet’s wife, Cindy, nodded in agreement.

“Violet’s right, Master,” Jessica threw in. “We have the entire world on our side. Even untrained, that is a lot of manpower we could hurl at the situation.”

“That’s a little cold, Jessica,” Korina, Secretary of Education, objected. “We can’t just throw defenseless men and women at the problem.”

“No, we can’t,” Mary firmly said.

In an emergency? I asked my wife telepathically. We strove never to contradict each other’s commands in public. In the first few years of our marriage, that had caused a small amount of friction.

Her eyes found mine. Perhaps in an emergency.

“That will only be a last resort,” I stated. Mary gave an agreeing nod.

“Maybe we should summon Karen?” Sam asked.

“It will have to be the old way,” I told her. “Without the Gift, I can’t summon all the ghosts to fight for me.”

A grimace flickered across Sam’s face. “Maybe you should do it, sir. You are stronger than us. Last time I did it…” She shuddered, and Candy patted her hand.

Unfortunately, Karen was equally baffled. All she could say was, “My sight has been obscured in this matter. Heavenly forces move once more, Master.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 6th, 2054 – Mark Glassner

It was after midnight when I stepped through the portal into the mansion. I had just left Paris. My little sister, Antsy, who administered Europe with Via, her wife, had captured a few agitators. The last few weeks, a strain had cracked across the Theocracy. People were snapping out of our control, questioning our authority, and trying to lure people to gatherings.

It was worrisome. It seemed a few Nuns were roaming the world, freeing Thralls. 51 had delivered on her promise, and had doubled the bodyguard. But six hundred wasn’t enough to police the world. And they were spread thin, a compliment protecting each of the fourteen Administrative Districts, protecting my Governors as well as the local Bishops who shepherded the faithful. Twenty-eight different places to guard, in addition to our Mansion and the Cathedral, the ecclesiastical center of the Church.

“My Lord,” Pearl bowed as I entered the mansion.

Pearl had been the Chief Maid since we had founded them forty years ago. Her charges curtsied as they welcomed me home. One took my jacket, damp with rain, while a second handed me a warm cup of tea. I admired all my maids’ practically exposed breasts beneath their transparent blouses, and fondled a pair, as I drank my tea. It warmed me up; Paris had been miserable, a fierce thunderstorm drenching the city.

“Where’s my wife?”

“Your bedroom, my Lord,” Pearl answered. “She was still up the last I knew.”

I handed the cup to Pearl, and strode through the mansion. The bodyguards that accompanied me to Paris all headed off to their barracks. One of them kissed a maid, her wife, with some passion, pulling the maid along with her.

A pair of bodyguards stood at attention flanking our suite’s door. They saluted; I gave them each a grope, bringing a smile to their faces, and went inside. A pair of maids leapt to their feet, curtsying, then helped strip me out of my wet clothes. I gave each a kiss and squeezed their naked asses, before opening the door to our bedroom.

“I thought you’d be asleep, Mare,” I said when I found her reading a book; one of the Twilight novels. I never understood how she could read that insipid trash over and over.

“I couldn’t sleep after returning from Honolulu,” Mary sighed. “While I was meeting with Alice and her husband, the bodyguards found ten of these…agitators. A Nun has definitely gotten her hands on them.”

I crawled into bed with Mary. I still had mixed feelings about Alice, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault for shooting me. And she had tried to get Mary to break-up with me. Well, I didn’t have to like my wife’s friends, even if one of them ruled Oceania for us.

I gave my wife a kiss and she snuggled up against me, her naked breast and hard nipple pressing against my muscular chest. “There’s definitely more than one Nun,” I told her. “The three agitators my sister caught were all exorcised from our control. And yet they resisted my power. Some new prayer is protecting them from my wish.”

“The same in Honolulu. So at least two nuns are out there,” Mary sighed. “One in Paris, and one in Hawaii. And that’s assuming one of them is Tina. Maybe Doug gave his gift to a woman?”

“I doubt Doug would let a woman murder him just to add one more nun into the world,” I pointed out.

“Right,” Mary nodded. “That stupid ‘forgive your killer’ clause the monks have. That still doesn’t make sense to me.”

When a Monk’s killed, he can choose to give his Gift to his killer. It’s the only way they can pass on their powers. It seemed ridiculous; how do you forgive your killer? That seems like the hardest thing in the universe to do.

“Anyway, I think I know what happened last year,” I told her. “The Gift was returned, and then given to new people. It was given once, it stands to reason it could be given again.”

“Have you been talking to Sam?” Mary asked, eying me suspiciously.

“Nope. I came up with this all on my own.”

“Sure,” she nodded.

“I did,” I protested.

“Fine. You figured this out all on your own. I believe you,” she giggled, then sighed and frowned. “Well, that would explain where these nuns are coming from. But how did they do it?”

“Well, Doug and Tina have the original copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, right?”

“I believe that’s what Maryām told me. It has been forty years, but I think that’s what she said.” Mary shifted. “That would mean there’s, what, one-hundred-and-forty-four new Monks and Nuns out there.”

“So why did they choose now to come crawling out of the rocks,” I groused. “What happened last year to change the status quo?”

Mary gave me a kiss, rubbing her body against me. “We can worry about that tomorrow. You do remember what today is?”

“What?” I asked, struggling to think.

“Why am I not surprised.” Mary rolled her eyes. “We met forty-one years ago, today. You made your Pact, then walked into my Starbucks and swept me off my feet.”

I smiled. “You were so beautiful as you stood trembling before me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I never read that book I found in the library. Would we even have met?”

“Yes,” Mary declared. “We’re soulmates. I talked to Azrael about that, years and years ago. Surely I told you?”

It was my turn to shake my head.

She gave me a look. “Are you getting senile in your old age? I’m sure I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, it was during the Baal-zebub campaign,” she shrugged. “I seem to recall that was pretty hectic.”

That was an understatement. Baal-zebub had retreated from his stronghold in Austria to Switzerland. It had been such a mess to break through those passes. I could still remember leading troops through Gotthard Pass, and the bloodbath at the Devil’s Bridge. Alison had broken the tide that day, leading her commandos up the cliff face without any climbing gear.

“Anyway, Azrael told me that Lucifer nudged you into summoning him, and that caused you to meet me a few weeks earlier. Apparently, I was going to catch my boyfriend cheating on me and then I’d bump into you and it all would have fallen into place.” She sighed. “I bet Chase wouldn’t have walked away if we were just normal people.”

Mary was right; if we were normal, Chase would never have run off. Too late for that now. We were in too deep. If we freed the world, they would be howling for our blood. Mary and I had worked too long and too hard to escape Hell, we weren’t about to lose it all now. Sure, I was immortal, but Mary could still be killed. She only was young and healthy as long as I was alive, but that wouldn’t save her from getting shot in the head.

I kissed my wife as we shared our grief. I pulled her atop me; her lithe body writhed atop me as we kissed, her perky breasts rubbing against my muscular chest. My hands slid down her supple back, down to her plump ass, and gave her cheeks a squeeze. My cock was iron hard, pinned between our stomachs. Our kiss grew more and more passionate.

“After forty-one years, you still excite me,” I told her, stroking her auburn hair.

She smiled, her cheeks cutely dimpled, and said, “Feel how wet I am for you.”

Her pussy was a faucet, drenching my hand in her sweet, spicy juices. Her hands found my hard cock; her hips rose up, and she engulfed me. I was sliding into my wife’s pussy, the place I loved to be. The best place in the world—inside my love. I cupped her left breast with my hand, enjoying the perky firmness as she slowly rose up my cock. I thumbed her nipples as she slid home; a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“My horny stallion,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against mine, her green eyes staring down with love.

“My naughty filly,” I whispered back, then grasped an auburn lock, pulling her face to mine, and kissed her tenderly as she slowly made love to me.

I let go of the stress of today, the uncertainty of our new foe, and the questions that churned inside of me. I let it all go until only my wife, and our fervent embrace, remained. I caressed her body, stoking her passions, while her pussy stoked mine. I kissed her fingers, sucked her nipples, and nuzzled at her neck, while her hips rose faster, adding twists and pivots that slid my cock through the silk of her sheath.

“Oh, Mare,” I groaned. “My sweet, beautiful filly. Cum for me! Let me feel your passion.”

“Yes, yes!” she panted as I stroked her thigh, feeling her toned muscles lift and lower her pussy on me. I thrust up to meet her, bouncing her up and watching her breasts rise and fall, her dusky nipples dancing through the air, a beautiful ballet. “Oh, Mark! Oh, my stallion!”

The ripples of her sheath on my sword were exquisite. The pleasure of her orgasm milked my cock, sending rapture surging through me. I clenched my teeth, driving up one last time into her sweet embrace, and spilled my love into her. Three large blasts of ecstasy.

“I love you,” she whispered, cuddling on my chest, my half-hard cock buried in her cunt.

I stroked her hair, kissed her forehead. “With all my heart, Mare.”

Mary’s breath grew shallow as she drifted off to sleep in my arms. I held her, enjoying the feel of her chest rising and falling, the warmth of her breath, of her body, on my chest, and the beat of her heart pounding in rhythm with mine. My eyes were heavy. I let them close, feeling safe in the embrace of my wife. We’d face this new problem together.

Like we always had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase Glassner

I flashed into the cafeteria on a beam of pure light. Doug and Tina awaited, along with hundreds of men and women that had been freed from my parents’ tyranny. Around the world, seventy-one other pairs of Nuns and Monks had gathered similar groups, poised to lead their hundreds against the apparatus of my parents’ rule.

Today, we would free mankind.

Today, I would die with my parents.

For the last year we had prepared slowly. Each Nun exorcising clusters of Thralls in small communities, careful and cautious, while I coordinated everything. Holding onto all those one-hundred and forty-four gifts, if only briefly, had changed me. I could see the Light, and travel upon the heavenly rays like the Angels. When I spoke, people listened, and were swayed by my new-found eloquence, understanding me in their native tongues. I would speak English, but a Spaniard would hear Spanish; a Filipino, Tagalog; an Egyptian, Arabic. My words would protect them, armoring them against my parents’ words. A few had been captured, sadly, and hopefully they would hold out against torture.

We had thousands free ready around the world to attack all the centers of the Theocracy’s powers. It wasn’t enough just to kill my parents if the bureaucrats and priests remained behind ready to continue to rule in their names. We had to have something to offer in their place, or we were just condemning the world to anarchy.

I would be with Doug and his group as they attacked. I knew my parents and their security drills. They’d activate the shield and evacuate the mansion on the lawn. They’d be in the open and I would have my opportunity before they fled to whatever bolt-hole they decided and then things would be far more difficult.

“I’ve spoken to all the rest,” I told Doug, glancing at my watch. Flashing seventy-two times in just a short time was tiring, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins was helping to mask my weariness. “They will start their marches in seven minutes.”

Doug nodded, and summoned his golden armor. My father once had armor like that. He had been so magnificent when I had watched him duel Ashtoreth on the mansion lawn so many years ago. I had thought he was a hero. But I grew up, and, like all children, learned my parents were only flawed humans.

My hand shook, and I turned my back on Doug, walking to the window. I looked up South Hill at the concrete wall that segregated the Theocracy’s Capital from its slaves. In a few minutes, five groups of armed, free Thralls would start marching on the seat of my parents’ power, attacking it from all sides. Guns were checked as our followers readied themselves for battle, eager to take back their Liberty.

The blood of Patriots and Tyrants…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark Glassner

Mary and I awoke to frantic knocks at our door.

“Sir!” 51 shouted, bursting in. She had dressed hastily, her blouse buttoned up wrong. “The Theocracy is under attack!”

“What?” I asked, sleepily. Mary stirred on my chest, sitting up.

“There are five armed groups attacking the perimeter. They number in the hundreds!”

“Shit!” I muttered. Hundreds? Those fucking nuns had been busy! “Pull back the guard! Sixty-four can’t possibly hold against that many!”

“Yes, sir!” she saluted, her ebony face fierce and beautiful.

Mary stood up as maids scurried in with clothing. We hurriedly dressed, pulling on the black, utilitarian clothing we hadn’t worn in thirty years. My heart raced; I hadn’t felt adrenaline coursing so violently through my system since that day when the last Demon attacked the mansion. I had dueled Ashteroth just outside on the mansion’s lawn and beheaded the bitch. April and Xiu had died that day.

My anger rose. We had grown lax. Thirty years of peace had made us complacent. This time we’ll account for every last nun and priest. I’ll set the entire world to hunt them down!

After pulling on black fatigues, I strapped on body armor. I missed my Celestial armor, and I had never fought in the enchanted vest before. Lastly I pulled on my bronze amulet, tucking it beneath the vest. Mary was dressed identically, sheathing a 9mm handgun while a maid tied her auburn hair back.

“Maids, take shelter in the basement,” I ordered, then we rushed out to the security room.

Alison and Desiree were waiting for us, hastily dressed in black fatigues. Excitement burned in Alison’s face; she had always been so reckless during the Demon Wars. On the banks of security cameras was footage of the outer walls breached, and hordes of men and women pouring in, all carrying various automatic weapons.

“Where the fuck did they get those?” Mary demanded.

Alison shrugged. “Some cache a paranoid dictator buried during the troubles. Does it really matter, Mistress?”

“Sir, we’re getting reports from across the globe,” a seemingly young Japanese communication officer said. Her name was Ami, a former Air Force officer that served us from before Lucifer was defeated. “Nine of the Administrative districts report they’re under attack.”

I swallowed, feeling cold. Nine of fourteen. “Which ones?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then paused, listening into her headset. “Sir, Washington D.C.’s about to fall. Sean and Tiffany have barricaded themselves in their bedroom with the last two of their guards.”

“Central America?” I asked, fear clenching my stomach. My mother ruled from Mexico City.

“They haven’t responded,” Roni, another former Air Force officer, answered. “I’m sorry, sir. Paris is reporting an armed mob attacking them, and there was a brief message from Tokyo.”

“We should retreat to the bunker,” Mary whispered, her face pale. Both of our parents were in trouble. And our sisters. Shit.

“Bunker?” I asked, my mind struggling to work as my fear was growing into white-hot anger. My mom and sister were in danger! These filthy vermin thought to hurt my family?

“The missile silo,” Mary answered. I hadn’t thought of our bolt-hole in Oklahoma in decades. I was pretty sure we still had it maintained. Those SWAT officers were stationed there with their families. “There’s no way they can know about it, Mark.”

Sam entered the room. “Sir, I’ve triggered the mansion’s shield. I predict it will last fifteen minutes under the volume of fire.”

“Fuck that! I’m going out there and fighting them,” I barked. “I’m immortal. They can’t hurt me! Even if they empty every fucking bullet they have into me I’ll keep on going!”

“You’d be swarmed under and captured,” Mary objected.

“I have the power to do it. I’ll open the ground beneath their feet, summon the winds to batter them, and cook them with fire! I am Mark Glassner, and I’ll show them why you don’t fuck with a living God!”

“It’s too risky. We don’t know enough, Mark.”

“I can crush them like the insects they are!” Molech’s flames danced on my skin and Milcom’s lightning crackled between my fingers. “I’ll send the vermin scurrying back to their holes while you evacuate the mansion.”

She grabbed my arm. “We don’t have enough information. What if there are more? We need to regroup and figure out what’s going on!”

“Fuck!” I snarled. Her hand was soft on my hand, calm. She was always too cautious, but she was usually right. “We evacuate to the bunker.”

My anger died to a cold simmer. The gall of these Monks and Nuns to challenge us. Once we’ve regrouped, I’ll make them realize the error of their mistake. I’ll enjoy crushing them beneath my boot.

“We’ll make them pay,” she whispered, her hand stroking my arm. “They’ll suffer for every member of our family they’ve hurt.”

We walked outside, the blue shield shimmering in a dome around the mansion. Five gold columns blazed like the sun, powering the spell. Only our most trusted servants and our family could walk through the shield, anyone else would be rebuffed. Outside, the mob beat at it, shot at it, and hurled whatever objects they could at it. Every impact sent ripples of blue spreading across the shield and dimmed the golden columns by a fraction, reducing the energy sustaining it. Eventually it would fail, and they would pour in like water rushing through a breeched dam.

“The maids are assembled, my Lord,” Pearl stated, standing before the ranks of her girls. They all looked scared.

My sons and daughters, and their children, huddled nearby. Silas had Delilah and Andrea clinging to him, and Marcelo and Calypso hugged their daughter Liza. The sluts stood in a nervous clump, Violet hugging Cindy, Jessica trying to stay calm as Korina trembled in Lillian’s arms. Thirty bodyguards were spread out in a circle around us, watching the shield. 51 nodded to me, then gave a worried glance at her husband. Even she was afraid, and she had survived Brandon, the Patriots, and been through the worst of the Demon Wars.

Alison strode out of the mansion. “Master, the mansion’s been evacuated, and I’ve destroyed the computers.”

Anger burned inside me; I would destroy those fucking nuns and monks and spike their heads as a warning to future generations. “Then let’s go,” I snarled, and drew a bronze dagger, prepared to cut a hole in the air, creating a Portal to the Shadows.

Light flashed down from the heavens, pure white, blinding, connecting earth and sky for one brief moment, and then it flashed back up. Where the light had fallen on the lawn stood a person

Chase.

I heard Mary gasp, a sharp intake of breath. The bronze dagger tumbled out of my hand. It was Chase, my beautiful daughter, her blue eyes fixed on me, a sad smile on her freckled face. Her auburn hair fell loosely about her shoulders, swaying in the gentle breeze. I drank in the sight of her. Hope, happiness, joy, filled me up.

My beautiful daughter had come home.

I didn’t remember crossing the distance between us. One moment I was staring in amazement at her, the next she was just before me. I must have run to cross the distance so fast. I threw my arms around her, crushing her against my chest. She was wonderful, real, alive, beautiful.

I didn’t see the ugly dagger clutched in her hand.

The pain was sharp as it sliced into my thigh. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered.

I stumbled back, the small cut burning with venomous agony. The fire spread through my veins; every beat of my heart spreading the pain. Dizziness swept through me; my legs wobbled. I stared at my daughter in astonishment; her blue eyes were full of sorrow.

“Mark!” my wife shouted as my leg buckled. I collapsed onto my back. The blue sky was above me—a perfect, beautiful sky. I had seen its like once before, so very long ago.

Mary knelt beside me, her crying face above me, an even more beautiful sight. Her hand grasped mine, bringing it up to her face. She gently kissed my knuckles, then red light engulfed me. Pain still burned through me; her healing spell failed. Everything was starting to grow dark; my vision grew fuzzy as the pain burned through my veins, drawing closer and closer to my heart.

This has happened before. And Lilith wasn’t going to save me this time.

“Mispachs!” Candy shouted. “Hurry, we need to kill her and spill her blood on him before he dies!”

The dagger of Cain. The only way to save me was for Chase to die. And when I died, my beautiful Mary would, too. I had once condemned the world to darkness to save my wife. I would do anything to protect her, to save her. I thought I could kill anyone to keep my wife alive.

I was wrong.

“No,” I croaked. Mary nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Do not touch our daughter!” my wife commanded with steel in her voice.

“We all die when he does!” Candy objected. “If none of you will kill the bitch, then I’ll…”

“You will do nothing!” 51 roared. I could hear a scuffle, a woman screaming in pain. A gun barked, and Sam gave a muffled cry of anguish.

Chase knelt on the other side of me, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she cried. “It had to be done. Your tyranny had to be stopped. I couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t listen.”

I looked from my wife to my daughter as agony pumped through my veins. She was as beautiful as her mother. Chase hesitantly reached out to grasp our hands. They were soft, warm, as we three held each other. I struggled to speak; there was something very important I had to tell my daughter.

“I forgive you.”

Turned out it wasn’t hard to do at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase Glassner

The life went out of Father’s blue eyes.

Mother slumped limply forward across his chest. Around me, my siblings, the sluts, the maids, and the bodyguards all fell dead. I killed them all. Tears ran hot down my cheeks. Hundreds just died from a single knife stroke. Was I as bad as my parents? Were my murders as justified as theirs?

I didn’t know.

Hundreds dead so that billions could be free. That math had to add up, right?

Silver glinted on my father’s chest. The sun was warm on my face; it was too lovely a day for such tragedy. The silver was a locket, shaped like a heart, a single, pink rose sculpted on the front. It must have spilled out from beneath Mother’s armor as she fell forward, landing upon Father. I grabbed and opened the locket; my parents smiled up at me. With shaking hands, I unclasped it from my mother’s neck, and draped it around my own.

I realized I wasn’t alone. The shield had failed; those that were attacking the compound had gathered in a circle to stare down at the False Gods, the Tyrants—my parents. Around the world, the elements of my parents oppression, those bureaucrats and priests not bound directly to my parents, were being captured or killed. The Theocracy was being erased. Hopefully, a better government would rise from the ashes.

I silently walked away, the crowd parting before me. I could have ridden on the Light, flashing to wherever I wanted to go. Wherever that was. I needed to walk, to think, to wonder why I didn’t die with all my family, with my parents. I was bound to them. I shouldn’t have lived.

I wasn’t supposed to live.

Now I had to live with the question: could I have talked my parents into giving it all up? To free mankind from their bondage? I don’t know. I just knew that I couldn’t take the risk that they would say no. I had this one opportunity to end it, to liberate the world. I had to take it, and now all I could do was walk, cursed like the shoemaker to wander on and on forever, guilt tearing apart my heart.

Hopefully, the world was worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark Glassner

I was falling, falling, falling.

Into Darkness.

Then Darkness gave way to heat, to fire.

I opened my eyes. Oppressive heat buffeted my body and blood-red rocks crunched at my feet. Anguished wails echoed through the air—the chorus of the damned. I stood on a rocky hill, overlooking a hellish plain and a city of brass. Trees made of twisted bone dotted the plain, growing next to rifts that smoked sulfurous fumes.

Mary appeared at my side. I wrapped my arms around my wife. “Together forever,” she whispered.

A collar bound my neck, made of red, pitted iron, leading off into the distance—my Pact with Lucifer. The iron was weak, pitted; it snapped easily. I had far more power than the Devil ever had. I had stolen the power of every Demon—Lucifer, Lilith, Molech, Dagon, and more—I had slain, the energy split between Mary and myself. Mary reached up and easily snapped her chain, the iron flaking away into rust on the searing wind.

More souls appeared. Chasity and Noel knelt before me, joined by 51, while the bodyguards knelt in ranks behind them. “We’ve awaited you for a while, Master,” Chasity said, smiling, her blue eyes twinkling with joy.

Karen threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek. Then April, glasses reflecting the hellish landscape, melted against me. And lastly Xiu sauntered up, naked; I pulled her to me by her nipple piercing. “I missed you all,” I told the three of them. “You were never forgotten.”

“Thank you, Master,” Xiu smiled, tears shining in her eyes. “We swore to serve you forever.”

The other sluts joined us: Lillian, Korina, Violet, Jessica, Alison, and Desiree. Korina reunited with Xiu, hugging her enthusiastically. Alison and Desiree gazed into each other’s eyes with love. Our families were next: my mom and her wife, Tiffany and Sean, Missy and Damien, Shannon and George, Antsy and Via. Their children and ours. Pearl and her maids, our other servants, the Cunningham twins and their Bishops, and our friends who helped us rule the Theocracy. Around us, reunions happened as those that had passed on before us were reunited with friends, family, and lovers.

The only one missing was Chase. I concentrated, and I could sense my daughter walking away from the mansion, crushed by her guilt. Anger flashed through me—I had failed her. I hadn’t been a good enough father to her. I was too concerned with escaping Hell, of making sure that there were no threats that could harm me or my loved ones. Mary and I shackled the entire world out of selfishness. Chase is a better person than I ever was. I hoped one day I could tell her that; then, maybe, we could be a family again.

We will, Mary’s voice whispered in my mind. She just needs time. And we have all the time in the universe now.

“What are your commands, Master?” Violet asked, her arm around Cindy.

“We’re ready to kick some ass!” shouted an eager Alison. Somehow, she had conjured a machine gun, red flames flickering across the black metal.

I could see the lesser demons and the shades of the dead hovering at the edges of our group, watching us warily. Beyond them lay the city of brass. Dis. I glanced at my wife, gave her shoulder a squeeze, then looked at our family and followers. For a moment, black chains flashed around all their necks, connecting them to Mary and myself.

I grinned, “Well, I’ve heard it said that it’s better to rule in Hell.”

Click here for Epilogue.

To be concluded…

Update 7-7-14

Hey everyone,

Tomorrow will see the final chapter of the Devil’s Pact released: The Fall of Rome. The Epilogue will be released on the following day. I hope you guys find the ending satisfying.

On Saturday, Ghost of Paris Chapter 7, which took first place in the poll, will be released and I’ll be switching to releasing on Saturday. See the release schedule in the forum for what’s coming up. I’ll have a new poll up soon.

Today I also released Cuckolding the Cheat (Naughty Wives 3). Frank and Evie are joined by Cherry and are up to a lot of naughty fun! Wife Watching, Exhibitionism, Phone Sex, Cheating spouses, Secret Webcasts. Coupon on the sidebar to the right.

I have a newsletter. If you sign up on the form on the sidebar, you get two free ebooks, including ‘A Submissive Bride’ a BDSM romance. Helen is getting married and she’s going to show everyone just how submissive she is!

Take care,

J.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 52: The Tyrants’ Daughter

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 52: The Tyrants’ Daughter

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female/Teen female, Male/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Oral Sex, First, Spanking

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated. To contact me, you can leave a comment or email me at mypenname3000@mypenname3000.com, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 51.



After the death of Dagon and the end of the Great Eclipse, the followers of the demoness Lilith were rounded up. Lana and Chantelle, High Priestesses of Lilith, were vociferous in their praise of their dead goddess, and went to the gallows for their crimes, along with many of the ‘Coven’, the first group of women to worship Lilith. The most notable pardons went to Fiona and Thamina, who raised Lily, the daughter of Lana and Chantelle. The pair spent their lives rebuilding Seattle and aiding the victims of Lilith’s tyranny. To this day, they are remembered fondly in Seattle, and a statue in their honor was raised at Pioneer Park.

–Excerpt from ‘The Rise and Fall of the American Theocracy’ by Tina Allard, a Holy Witness

Chasity Glassner

I was born three minutes after midnight, May 2nd, 2014 by the old calendar. My parents always said I was the most beautiful baby in the world, fitting for a newborn Goddess. I’ve seen the pictures; I was a squalling ball of pink, no different from any other baby. I was named after Chasity Sarah Vinter, the Holy Martyr who died protecting my mother before I was ever even conceived.

My earliest memories are of my dad, the God Mark Glassner, staring intently at a map. I was maybe three, toddling about inside an iron room, the Matmown, in the mansion’s basement. I now know he was plotting the final push against the Demoness Astarte who ruled Western Europe. It has always stayed with me how focused he looked, his blue eyes hard with determination.

I didn’t see much of my parents those first eleven years of my life. The Demons of Hell had been loosed when I was only six months old, and Mother and Father spent a decade prying mankind out of their clutches. By the time I was five, Dagon, Chemosh, Astarte, Baal-zebub, and Asherah were all slain by Father. When my parents were around, they loved me fiercely. Mother would scoop me up, her green eyes flashing with love, and cover me with kisses, while Father would tickle me until I laughed so hard I couldn’t breath.

“Well, at least there’s one woman in my life I can win a tickling contest with,” he would joke as I gasped for breath, his blue eyes twinkling. Then Mother would attack him, tickling away. Mother always won. And then they would start kissing, and a maid would pick me up and take me to go play with my siblings while Mother and Father did ‘adult stuff’.

Since Mother and Father were so busy, I would often spend time with the other children in the mansion: my half-brother Silas, half-sisters Delilah and Andrea, and my uncle Michael. We were all born within a month of each other; Silas was the oldest, then Andrea and Delilah, then me, and finally Uncle Michael, Mother’s youngest sibling. I tried to play with them, but there was a gulf between us. I was the daughter of both Mother and Father, a Goddess, while Micheal was merely a mortal, and Silas, Andrea, and Delilah were only demigods. Michael had the maids’ and bodyguards’ children to play with, and Silas, Andrea, and Delilah were inseparable, always getting into trouble together.

I was so very lonely.

It was Grandfather who sensed how lonely I was. He was Mother’s father, and was old. One of the oldest appearing persons in my life. The mansion was filled with mostly young, beautiful women that served my parents, their youths frozen by the Zimmah bond. There were a few men married to various maids, cooks, or bodyguards, but it was mostly women in the house.

“Here, Chase, why don’t you come read with your grandpa,” he said one day.

I was never lonely after that. Grandfather introduced me to the world of books. I read everyday, transported to magical worlds. Whenever I finished a book, Grandfather and I would discuss them; he would point out what the book meant, the themes, and what the author was trying to teach me.

“But it was just a story,” I objected.

“All the great works will teach you something,” Grandfather explained. “About life, about love, about history, or politics. Some will exhort you to be a better human, others will show you the folly of one particular idea.”

“And what if they’re wrong?” I asked.

“That’s why you have a brain,” he answered. “Consider what they say, weigh their evidence, and decide for yourself if they are right or wrong.”

As I grew older, my half-siblings, my uncle, and I began our education. Grandfather taught most of the subjects, and Sam, the Vizier, taught us Hebrew and Aramaic. As we became older, entering our preteen years, other sons and daughters of Father joined us: Meredith, Lillian’s shy daughter; Marcelo and Calypso, Desiree and Alison’s children, born only a few weeks apart; and, when I was fourteen, little Justin, Jessica’s son, started school. Only Gang, Xiu’s son with Father, was too young to start his education by the time I turned eighteen.

I came to love weddings; everyone in the family, and that included the sluts, would show up. Mother and Father; my aunt Antsy and her wife Via; Aunt Missy and Aunt Shannon, and their husbands, Damien and George; Grandfather and Grandmother, who looked as young as Mother; and Nana Sandy and Nana Betty. They were the happiest times of my childhood.

The earliest one I could remember was Aunt Antsy’s wedding to Via. Andrea and I were the flower girls and Silas was the ring bearer; poor Delilah spent the day crying because she didn’t get to be in the wedding party. Then Jessica married Debra Darnell, a reporter whose first husband had died in the Wormwood Plague. It seemed that every year, family members were getting married: April and Hayfa, Sam and Candy, Korina and Xiu. Everyone seemed to be in a rush to get married.

Cindy, Violet’s wife, explained it to me at April’s wedding, “Tomorrow any one of us could die, and we all just wanted something permanent, something official in case the worst happened to our loves.”

Violet smiled at her, and kissed her wife.

And some did die. Hayfa was killed in a field hospital outside Delhi in the final push to kill Marduk; April cried for her wife an entire year. When Ashtoreth, the final Demon, launched a surprise, desperate attack on the mansion just a few weeks before my eleventh birthday, April and Xiu, along with many bodyguards and maids, died. I watched Father and Mother fight for the first time while hiding beneath a hedge, killing scores of the demons that poured out of portals opened across the mansion’s grounds. They were magnificent. The demons fled in terror before their powers, and Ashtoreth was forced to kneel before Father, slumped and defeated, before he beheaded her and absorbed her powers.

The Demon Wars that had consumed my early childhood ended. The world could finally rebuild beneath Father and Mother’s direction. Administrative districts were set up; family and friends were appointed to rule over the fourteen districts. Mother and Father finally were home for long periods of time. It was the happiest time of my life.

When I turned twelve, Mother gave me ‘the talk,’ teaching me about sex. “You know how boys have a penis?” she asked me.

“And girls have a vagina,” I answered, flushing at saying such a word in front of my mother.

My eyes grew wide as she explained the ‘adult stuff’ she and Father did. She was quite frank, and my cheeks burned as she explained different positions and techniques. It sounded very messy and icky, and I told Mother that.

Mother just laughed. “Well, you’ll soon be old enough to fuck, if you want to.”

I blushed, my cheeks warming. “No, thank you!”

“In a few years, I bet you change your mind,” laughed Mother, hugging me. “Your Father and I want to be the first ones to be with you, sweety. When you’re old enough and ready.”

I felt a tingle in my body. “Really?” Father was such a hunk, and when I thought about him my pussy sometimes felt funny. Maybe it was worth all the mess.

“Yeah, you’re going to make us all immortals.”

“Really?” I asked, smiling.

“Yep.”

I wasn’t as ready to rush into sex as my siblings. When they were fourteen, Silas was found with Delilah and Andrea in bed with him. “That’s my son,” Father had laughed when he heard about it.

It was another year before I was ready.

On my fifteenth birthday, my parents threw an elaborate party for me. It was a lot more ‘adult’ than my previous parties, and none of the children had been invited. Bishop Mattock and his wife, Jessie, brought a few temple prostitutes for entertainment, and a beautiful Black woman gave me a lap dance as everyone cheered. She ground her plump tush on my crotch and rubbed her ebony breasts in my face. I felt giddy, tipsy on champagne, as this beautiful woman cavorted on me.

“Happy birthday, Chase,” Father said to me after the lap dance was over, holding out his hand to me and helping me up. His cock was hard, and shiny with some woman’s juices.

My entire body felt like it was on fire, starting at my little pussy. I’d never felt so horny before, and I wanted to slip away and stroke my little kitten until it purred. Mother appeared, naked and flushed, and took my other hand.

“Are you ready, Chase?” she asked me.

“Yes, Mom,” I told her. I was ready to pop my cherry and become a woman.

Everyone cheered; they knew what was about to happen.

“Give her a good tumble, big bro,” Aunt Antsy catcalled.

“Make her howl, Mary,” Aunt Missy cooed, and pinched my ass as I walked by.

“I hope you won’t forget about your Grandfather,” he winked, as Grandmother fondly laughed, “Dirty, old man.”

I trembled as we entered their bedroom. Candles lit the room, and incense burned lavender and sweet. Father kissed me, his blue eyes shining with lust, as Mother’s hands found the zipper of my new dress, a low-cut, dark-blue party dress with a ruffled skirt. The cool silk slid down my skin, exposing my naked body to my Father’s gaze. I shivered. He was so strong, so powerful, and I wanted to be taken by him.

“We made a beautiful child, Mare,” Father leered; his hand reached out and gently cupped my breast. They were small, perky, and covered in freckles, just like Mother’s.

“Yes, we did,” Mother purred, standing next to me and sliding a hand up my waist to cup my other breast.

“You two could be sisters,” Father whispered. “You look so much alike.”

I flushed; Mother was the most beautiful woman, and I was happy to be compared to her. Mother kissed at my neck as Father’s fingers pinched at my nipple. My eyes found his cock. It was so hard, jutting out at me. And it looked so big. How was that going to fit in me?

“It’ll be okay,” Mother whispered. “Relax.”

She must have felt me tense. Her lips found mine, and I was kissed for the very first time by a lover. I had practiced kissing with Andrea and Delilah when we were twelve and thirteen, but it was nothing like the passion Mother had for me. I cocked my head, trying to move my lips like she was. Mother’s tongue flickered through my mouth. I moaned, and kissed her back. Her fingers stroked my skin, building my ardor to higher levels.

I was breathless when she broke the kiss, and Father was there, turning my face. I trembled, staring into his deep, blue eyes. He kissed me. It was different than Mother’s, rougher, more powerful, and I melted into his strength. I could feel his hard cock rubbing on my stomach, leaving a wet streak of something on my belly. Not pee? Did he cum already? No, it’s precum, remembering Mother’s quite frank sex talk from a few years ago.

We fell upon the bed in a tangle of kissing bodies. Hands roamed me, groping my breasts, gently pinching my nipples, stroking my thighs. Mother toyed with my thick mat of fiery-red pubic hair, then slid down to find my wet pussy. I shuddered and came as the first person touched my sex. It was intense, glorious, so much better than using my own fingers in my bower at night.

“She’s so wet,” Mother purred, then licked her fingers, tasting my juices. “Umm, tart and sweet.”

She held her fingers up for Father, and he savored my passion. “I have to get a better taste,” he grinned.

He spread my legs and Mother stretched out beside me as Father’s whiskers scratched at my thighs. “You are in for a treat, Chase,” she cooed, licking my ear. “Your dad is a wonderful pussy eater. He’s had a lot of practice on me.”

“Can I taste you?” I asked, a little hesitant. Father’s tongue toyed with my pussy lips, stirring my lust.

“I would love that, baby girl.”

She straddled my face, her beautifully waxed pussy descending to my lips. Father buried his face into my hairy snatch, and I realized that I wanted to have a bald cunt just like Mother. Father’s tongue felt amazing, rough and wet, as he explored my folds. I tried to copy what he was doing to me on Mother’s spicy, sweet flower.

“Oh, Chase!” Mother moaned. “Umm, you’re a quick study! Nuzzle my clit. Yes, just like that, baby-girl. Oh, fuck! Oh, my baby-girl!”

I almost panicked when a flood of juices poured out of Mother’s cunt into my lips. Then I heard her moans and gasps, and I realized I had made her cum. I felt so happy as Mother ground her pussy into my eager mouth. Father was really eating me, his tongue fucking into my pussy hole, pressing against my hymen as his fingers skillfully manipulated my little pleasure button.

Mother slid off my face, and licked her juices off my cheek. “Are you about to cum, baby-girl? Is daddy’s tongue driving you wild?”

“Yes, Mom!” I groaned. “Oh, Daddy, you’re making me feel so good. I love you so much! You and Mom!”

“Aww,” Mother sighed, a tear brimming in her eye. “I love you, too, baby-girl.”

Father showed his love by bringing me to an earth-shattering orgasm. I bucked and moaned, Father hanging on for dear life as he ate me out. It seemed like every nerve in my body exploded with pleasure while Mother held my hand and smiled encouragingly at me. And then it passed, and I collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I gasped as he crawled up the bed. He kissed me on the lips. I tasted my pussy, it tasted as sweet as Mother’s, but had a tart flavor instead of a spicy one.

I could feel Father’s cock prodding the entrance of my pussy. He broke the kiss, staring his blue eyes into mine, and asked, “Are you ready, Chase?”

“Yes, make me a woman, Daddy!”

Mother squeezed my hand as Father drove his cock into me; for a moment, my hymen resisted, then his cock broke through and sank into me, filling me up. “Eylowm!” Father hissed in my ear.

Energy burst inside of me, flowing out of my body and into Father’s. Our bodies were connected, and this energy formed a bond between our very souls. My life-force touched Father’s, and we merged together briefly. Pleasure exploded through me. I thought my last orgasm was amazing—this one blew it away. As our souls merged, I became ecstasy, driving every thought from my mind except the exquisite pleasure blossoming inside me. Father’s cum shot into me, warm and wet, and filled me up. Mother’s hand squeezed mine and I heard her moans of pleasure. Her soul was so connected with Father’s, our joining touched her’s as well.

“Holy shit!” I gasped when our souls parted.

“You did it, baby-girl,” Mother praised. “None of us will ever die. Your father is immortal.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and I really didn’t care, as Father started driving his cock in and out of my pussy. Every thrust filled me up, stretching my little hole. There was some pain, but it was a beautiful ache, and dwarfed by the pleasure every stroke of his cock gave me. I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers raking his back as I pumped my hips. I needed to cum again. I needed to feel my father’s seed pouring into me.

“Oh, yes!” I groaned. “Fuck me, Daddy! Harder! Oh, I’m going to cum again!”

My little cunt spasmed on my Father’s cock as he pounded me. I could only moan wordlessly and pump my hips. I learned to grind my clit into his groin, and that pleasure quickly built another orgasm inside me. His rod kept pistoning into me, faster, harder, more frantic. I felt so full, and his shaft’s every thrust sparked greater and greater passion inside me.

“My baby-girl,” he groaned. “Your pussy feels so amazing, Chase! Fuck!”

His cum shot into me a second time, sending me over the edge. I went rigid; my orgasm writhed through me. “Oh, yes, Daddy!” I groaned. “Oh, yes, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, baby-girl,” he sighed, and then he rolled off me. I felt empty. Mother cuddled on one side of Father, and I cuddled on the other, smiling happily. “This is the best birthday ever.”

Mother’s hand stroked my cheek. “It’s not over yet, baby-girl,” she smiled.

She ate me out, devouring all of Father’s cum from my naughty cunt, then she tongued my asshole. It felt weird when she slid first one, then two fingers into my ass, lubing me up with my pussy juices. Father was fucking her from behind, his muscular body glinting with sweat, his face contorted with animalistic pleasure as he pounded her. Then I had the pleasure of eating out Father’s cum from Mother’s pussy, enjoying his salty cream and her savory juices while Father took my anal cherry. We fucked the night away, in every combination and position, until we all collapsed sweaty in their bed, Mother and I cuddling on either side of Father.

After that, I couldn’t get enough of sex—and there was a mansion full of beautiful women for me to experience. I fucked my half-siblings, I fucked the sluts, I fucked my Aunts and Uncles, my Grandfather, and Grandmothers. I worked my way through every maid we had. My poor pussy felt so abused after the end of the first week. Luckily, Sam showed me this cream she had created, rubbing first the soothing lotion, and then her cock, deep inside my pussy.

“It’s your choice if you want to be bound to us,” Mother always said. “You can be free to live your life, grow old, and die, or be young and live forever with those that love you.”

As my eighteenth birthday approached, I made my choice. “I want to be bound to Mom,” I told my parents a week before my birthday. “No offense, Dad, but it lets Grandpa get involved.”

Father laughed, and rubbed my head, mussing my hair—I hated when he did that. “You do seem to be an affectionate granddaughter.”

“Ever since you sent him and Grandma to Washington D.C. to govern North America, I don’t get to see him that much,” I pointed out. “He is coming for my birthday, right?”

“Of course he is,” Mother reassured, and reached out and gripped my hand. I was going to be the first child bound to them; the trio of Silas, Delilah, and Andrea were waiting for their three-way wedding in a month to be bound.

I was full of energy all week; I’m sure I drove everyone in the mansion nuts, but I was just so excited to see Grandpa. Finally, the day arrived, and my parents threw a lavish party for me. Every Governor and Bishop showed up, all my parents’ old friends and their most devoted worshipers. Once again, the entertainment was brought by Bishop Mattock and his stable of Temple Prostitutes.

“I was his first prostitute,” Jessie, Bishop Kevin’s wife, confided in me as we slipped into an alcove in the ballroom, one of many constructed so people could find a nice, intimate spot. She was a bubbly blonde that looked only twenty. “And it’s all thanks to your Father that we got together.”

Jessie gave me a screaming orgasm. She was one of many men and women that were eager to bed a Goddess. I was my mother’s daughter, and I shared my affections with as many guests as I could before the binding ceremony. A bed had been assembled in the center of the hall, and we all watched Mother getting ravished by Grandfather while Dawn and Rose Cunningham led the assembled clergy in a hymn of praise.

I approached the bed when they were finished, Mother’s legs spread wide and her cunt glistening with cum and juices. I crawled across the crimson silk sheets, inhaled the bouquet, and licked deeply into her pussy. Grandfather was salty and Mother was sweet.

“Zimmah,” Mother intoned.

Energy seemed to flow from Grandfather into Mother and me, binding me to Mother with chains stronger than death. I shuddered, breathing in deeply. “We’ll be together forever, Mommy,” I sighed.

“Yes, we will, baby-girl,” she smiled, as everyone cheered.

As the party was winding down, I cornered my Grandfather, “You haven’t given me your gift yet,” I pouted.

“I wanted to give it to you in private,” he said.

“Well, I have a surprise for you, too,” I giggled wantonly. “Why don’t you come to my bedroom in fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, Chase.”

I slipped out of the ballroom as an orgy formed with those guests still here; Mother and Father were at the center of it. Mother had Alison rimming her ass as Bishop Addison ate her pussy. Father was buried beneath a pile of female flesh made of Aunt Antsy, Jessie, one of Governor Chris’s busty wives, and Jessica.

I entered my bedroom and found the outfit that Lillian helped me procure. “They’re quite hard to find these days,” she had said. “Have fun!” When Grandfather entered the room, a smile broadened his face as he saw me standing coquettishly.

“My sweet Chase, how beautiful you are,” he smiled.

“I heard you like naughty schoolgirls,” I purred, feeling his eyes rake my body.

I wore a white, button-down blouse tied below my breasts to leave my flat stomach exposed; a tartan skirt, green-and-blue, fell in pleated folds down to my upper thighs, and knee-high, white socks completed the look. I had my auburn hair in a ponytail, hanging over my left shoulder to add a splash of color on the white blouse.

A smile creased his face, and he ran a hand through his red hair streaked with gray. He walked to me, cupped my chin, and stared into my blue eyes. “I love naughty schoolgirls.” His hand slid down to squeeze my breast through the blouse, his finger brushing my nipple. “You’ve been a such a bad girl, haven’t you?”

“I have,” I purred.

“You’ll need to be disciplined.”

I blinked, not sure where this was going, but Grandfather’s lust was making me feel so womanly, that I didn’t resist as he sat down the bed, and pulled me over his lap. He was going to spank me, I realized, as he drew up my skirt.

“Naughty slut, no panties,” he hissed, rubbing his hands roughly across my exposed ass.

“I forgot them,” I said, trying to sound scared and innocent. Grandfather’s cock bulged beneath me.

His hand fell on my ass with a meaty smack, stinging my flesh. I yelped in pain. “You are such a bad little girl!” he groaned. Smack! “So bad!” Smack!

My ass burned, then his hand gently rubbed the flesh, soothing the hurt and building a fire inside me. He spanked me again, harder, and juices leaked out of my cunt. I squirmed, eager for the next strike. I felt so naughty.

“Ohh, spank me, sir!” I moaned. “Punish me!”

Smack! My bottom quivered; the pain went straight to my clit, feeding my fires. He kept spanking me, and I writhed on his lap, rubbing my clit into his thigh. Then he slapped right on my cunt, a wet, smacking sound that shot pain and pleasure through me.

I exploded. “Yes, yes!” I screamed. “I’m so bad!”

He rubbed my cunt, smacked it a second time, and growled, “What a whorish girl you are! I guess I’m going to need to use my rod to punish you!”

I gave a throaty laugh. “Punish me with your thick tool!”

He threw me down on my bed, shoved a pillow underneath my stomach, and knelt behind me. I heard his pants unzip; his cock smacked my plump, smarting asscheek. “Little sluts like you need a hard rod to keep you in line!” he groaned as he shoved his cock into me.

“Fuck me! Pound my little snatch!” I groaned. “Punish me!”

My bed creaked as he slammed his cock into me. The angle let him drive deep, his cock rubbing down the top of my hole, brushing my G-spot. I quivered, and started cumming after just a few strokes, my little cunt rippling on his cock.

“You fucking whore!” he groaned. “You came already?”

“Your tool feels so good!” I panted.

“It’s supposed to be a punishment! I think a different hole needs to be reamed!”

“Umm, I couldn’t agree more!”

He spread my cheeks, pulling his cock out of my drenched pussy. I had lubed him well, and he speared into my ass with little resistance. I’ve had many cocks up my ass, and I thrust back against his cock, enjoying how he filled me up. His groin smacked into my pillowy cheeks, aching pain shooting through me, and I shoved my ass up into his strokes.

“Fuck my ass!” I chanted. “Fuck me! Fuck my naughty, schoolgirl ass, Grandpa!”

I wormed my right hand between me and the pillow, found my hard clit, and stroked my pleasure button. Grandfather kept pounding my ass, stirring up my pleasure as I struck sparks on my clit.

“I love your ass, Chase!” he moaned. “My beautiful granddaughter! You look so much like your mother. There’s even a bit of your grandmother in your face!”

I frigged my clit, pushing hard on the sensitive nub, so close to cumming. “Fuck me harder!” I shouted. “I need to cum!

He slapped my ass, stinging pain shooting to my pussy, then hunched over me, and pistoned his cock rapidly in and out of my ass. Shivers of pleasure burst through me. I moaned wordlessly as my orgasm shot through me like electricity. My ass milked his cock, transmitting my pleasure to him. Cum erupted violently into me, flooding my ass as Grandfather pumped a few more times, then collapsed atop me.

He spooned me for a while, tracing my arm, as we caught our breath. I felt so warm, so safe, in his arms. “I love you, Grandpa,” I sighed.

“I love you, too.” The bed creaked and he sat up. I rolled over and watched him walk over and pick up a rectangular present bound in colorful paper. A book! I smiled, and eagerly took it from him.

I ripped open the package. The book was old, the pages yellowing. I’ve always wanted to have a new book, but none were published these days. Well, not the story ones anyway. The Living Church encouraged its worshipers to only read from the Account of the Gods, the collection of holy scriptures written by various bishops and sluts, or other officially sanctioned books used to educate children.

I glanced at the cover. ‘On Liberty’ by John Stuart Mill.

“Let this be our little secret,” Grandfather said. “I don’t think your parents would approve of this one.”

I clutched the book to my chest, eager to have this secret with my Grandfather. The book opened my eyes, everything it said seemed to contradict the teachings of the Church and the way my parents had cultivated humanity. It taught that men should be free to act as they will, so long as their actions do not unduly harm another. The Theocracy taught that men must obey the will of the Living Gods and their earthly representatives without question or hesitation.

A month later, right after Silas married Andrea and Delilah, I embarked on a tour of various parts of the World, to let the citizens see their Goddess and know that they were loved. ‘On Liberty’ opened my eyes to the oppression of the World. Many cities had been destroyed, many lives lost, when the Demons escaped Hell, and much had to be rebuilt. There was a sameness to everything now. There seemed to be only a dozen different plans for houses; neighborhoods in rebuilt Paris looked the same as ones in Jerusalem. Government buildings were built to the exact same plan, laid out in squares with each building resting at the same spot in the square. The same statues dotted parks and the same fountains were the centerpieces of squares. The only things beautiful or original were the monuments and buildings that had survived the Demon Wars. The Gods had approved the new building plans, and no-one had either the daring or the desire to build something different.

Even the citizens were all the same. Sure they had different skin colors, different facial features, but they were identical. Farmers wore the same roughspun garb; miners dressed in leather jackets and orange helmets; nurses in their low-cut, white dresses. They all smiled and talked to each other politely. And they all stared at me in awe. Every last person was under my parents’ powers, ordered to love their neighbors, to obey the laws, and to never harm another human. There was no culture nor diversity.

There was no humanity.

The citizens were happy and healthy, they had food and shelter. They were slaves, even if their manacles were invisible. Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, John Stuart Mill had written almost two hundred years ago, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing.

I was horrified and, when I returned home, I foolishly expected my parents to see the error of their ways when I carefully explained it to them. We sat at dinner, served by scantily clad maids. Supposedly, they were all volunteers, but was that true? How could they not volunteer, when they were told to obey their Gods and love them and serve them in any way possible by the Church and my parents’ weekly broadcasts?

Mother stared in disbelief when I finished my lecture on how their actions, while well-meaning, were tyrannical and robbing the people of the world of their most inalienable right—the liberty to make their own decisions.

“She’s your daughter,” Father laughed and Mother glared at him.

“You have to understand, Chase, we did it for their own good,” Mother patiently explained, like I was a child, and I set my teeth.

“And why can’t they make their own choices?” I demanded. “Why do they have to take the aptitude test and be assigned their jobs and their housing. Even their spouses are chosen for them. What’s the harm in a little freedom?”

“Give man an inch, and he’ll take a foot,” Father answered. “Humans do poorly with freedom.”

“And that’s why you won’t let them choose their own spouses? What about love? About finding that special someone and choosing to be with them?”

“They’re free to love,” Mother answered. “They’re assigned spouses based on personality and suitable genetic traits. They’re free to take any lover they want.”

“And what if they hate their spouse?” I demanded.

“They won’t,” Father answered. “When assigned, they’re told that they will always love each other. We care about our followers, and only want the best for them.”

I threw my hands up. “That’s what I mean. You’re taking away even the most intimate decision they can make!”

“What’s the harm, they’re happy,” Mother answered. “Our system makes all the decisions for them, leaving them free to enjoy their lives as they make the world a better place.”

“But they don’t live, they just exist! You’ve robbed them of free will, of what makes them human! Why not give them just a little freedom? What is so wrong about that?”

Father stared at me. “Do you know what the world was like before the Theocracy?”

“I’ve watched your movies.”

“Those were fiction!” he snapped. “Like the books that have poisoned your mind. Before we imposed our Utopia, men had all the freedom they wanted, and what did they do with it?”

I shrugged, wilting beneath my Father’s anger.

“Men were brutal beasts. Every day, thousands were murdered, raped, and brutalized. Mothers drowned their children because they inconvenienced their love lives, husbands murdered their wives for insurance payouts, and children killed their parents for drug money. Companies sold products that killed and maimed, covering up their crimes to keep their profit margins. Dictators starved their people, while religious extremists butchered those that disagreed on how to worship the same god. There is no depth to the evil and depravity that men and women can sink to.”

“Thanks to us, people only die from accidents, old age, and illness,” Mother added. “And your Father and I try our best to stop illnesses.”

“That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant,” I quoted from ‘On Liberty’. “Just because someone might do something, or because you think you know better, is not a good enough reason to impose your will on them!” I slammed my fist into the table. “What gives you the right to make slaves of mankind?”

“We are Gods, Chase,” Father answered. “That gives us all the right.”

I didn’t have an answer to that. ‘On Liberty’ didn’t cover the ethics of an actual God, only temporal governments. Suddenly, I felt unsure. Father sounded so certain, so commanding, that I felt foolish for even challenging him.

“There has to be something better,” I lamely answered.

“There isn’t,” Mother said, reaching out and taking my hand. “Trust us, baby-girl. Humans are children, and we’re their loving parents. We know what’s best for them.”

“Okay,” I whispered. She hugged me, and I sighed, savoring her motherly affections.

For several years I dropped my objections, letting them fester in the back of my mind. I could find no answer to my parents’ assertion. My parents were Gods; I was a Goddess. We were better than all those other humans, so maybe it was only right that we reshape mankind into something better. That was the point of religion, to extort mankind to be better than their base urges. My parents were just more successful at it than the false religions of the past.

It was a chance comment I overheard that changed everything.

I needed something from Sam. I don’t remember what it was, something inconsequential, so I walked into her quarters to retrieve it. I didn’t knock. After all, I was a Goddess, and I could go where I pleased.

“If they’re Gods, why did we have to figure out their miracles,” Candy complained to Sam. The TV was turned up loud, and they hadn’t heard me enter.

They were sitting on their couch, watching some documentary about Mother and Father; television was the only form of culture allowed in the Theocracy, and it was mostly bland stuff compared to the entertainments that had come before. Mother and Father had quite the collection of movies and TV shows, things banned by their Theocracy, and we’d often watch them together.

Sam answered patiently, like this was an answer she was used to giving, “Great men and women have always stood on the shoulders of their intellectual betters. Why would Mark and Mary be any different than the thousands of petty tyrants that have come before?”

I was shocked. Never had I heard anyone impugn my parents before. I was intrigued. Did Sam and Candy not believe in our Godhood? A few days later, I tripped Candy into my bed, and after some vigorous fucking, we cuddled, and I asked her bluntly what she meant by her comment that day in front of the TV.

Candy tensed. “You heard that?”

I nodded. “It sounded like you two don’t think we’re Gods.”

She gave me a considering look, fingering a lock of her honey-blonde hair. I knew from pictures she used to dye it garishly, half-pink and half-blue. “Have you ever read the Magicks of the Witch of Endor?”

I frowned, that sounded familiar, but I was sure I hadn’t read it.

“I’ll email you Sam’s translation,” she told me.

It destroyed my world. My parents weren’t Gods, they just made deals with the very Demons that had ravaged the world during my childhood. And some of the deals in there were vile. What sort of monsters were my parents? All their justifications for enslaving mankind rang hollow in my ears. They weren’t better than the humans—they were humans. Subject to the same flawed hearts they claimed could not be trusted.

The same flawed heart that beat in my chest.

I couldn’t look at my parents without feeling sick, imagining Father sacrificing a woman to Molech, or Mother strangling a girl for power to Ashtoreth. I felt suffocated in the mansion, surrounded by evidence of my parents’ abhorrent excess. Even Candy, who seemed so critical of my parents, wasn’t disturbed by their powers, just jealous of them.

I had to leave.

At the age of twenty-three, I walked down the driveway of the mansion and out onto the roads. I had never walked any great distance, but I was young and I adapted. I walked for hours, leaving the large compound that made up the Theocracy’s Capital of South Hill. I didn’t know where I was going, what I was doing. I just had to escape.

Two bodyguards tracked me down on the second day. “Holy Daughter,” 312 said respectfully to me. “Your parents are worried about you.”

“Let them worry,” I said, with a toss of my hair, and kept walking.

“They want you to come home,” 71 added. “They’re concerned about you.”

“I don’t ever want to see those monsters again!” I shouted. “I want nothing to do with Warlocks!” I put all my hate, all my disgust, into that word. Warlocks. I knew the stories: before the Demons there were the Warlocks. Petty men and women who sold their souls for power. People just like my parents.

I kept on walking; the two bodyguards stared stupidly at my back. I could feel their eyes as I walked down the road, west towards Tacoma then south. I walked until I became tired. There was always a helpful ‘citizen’ that would offer to let me stay in their house. When I was hungry, I ate at the communal cafeterias that provided free meals to their neighborhoods. I just walked and walked, down the West Coast, into Mexico, then I followed the Caribbean into the South. Every so often, a representative of my parents would find me, and try to convince me to come home.

I grew lean, hard. My feet became tough with callouses, my face darkened by the sun. When I reached the East Coast, I took a cargo ship to Europe. Normal citizens weren’t allowed to travel, but I was a false Goddess, nothing was denied me. I was aimless, restless. Five years had passed without me even realizing it. Why was I walking? Everything was the same. The people were all the same slaves.

I needed to free these people. I needed to atone for my parents’ great sin.

I tried to find allies, to stir up the population. Sometimes, I’d find a man or woman that had some passion, some spark that hadn’t been beaten out of them by my parents, and I would latch on to them, clinging to them as tightly as a drowning person to a piece of flotsam. I’d take them as my lover, and we’d pass the weeks talking, plotting, trying to find others to help us.

It always ended the same way—they would be unable to change, to break free of my parents’ control, and I would grew melancholy and walk. I desperately wanted to be with my family again, but I couldn’t ignore the monstrousness of their Theocracy. If I could just find a way to restore Liberty to mankind, I knew I could go home.

We’d be a family again.

I walked the world, traversing every last continent save Antarctica. I was immortal; time didn’t matter. I looked eighteen, even though I was thirty, then I was thirty-five. It was hard to care anymore. When winter came, I went south; when summer came I would go north, or further south. I once stood at the tip of South America, staring at Cape Horn, and remembering the stories I had read of great sailing ships battling the elements as they rounded this point, and the terrible storms that would assail them as the Europeans explored the world.

When my melancholy was at its strongest, I contemplated suicide. Once, I stood at the rim of the Grand Canyon, gazing down into red depths and the blue Colorado snaking through the canyon. One step. A few years later, I sat at the edge of Victoria Falls, watching the curtain of water fountain into mist and thinking I could just swim out and let the current take me and carry me from this life. But then I’d remember I was bound to Mother. If I died, I would just wait in the Shadows with all those chained to my parents that had died.

My thirty-ninth birthday passed as I walked the Jordan River and reached the Dead Sea. I floated in the warm, salty waters, trying to wash clean my parents’ filth. I had just broken up with Barakat, a beautiful Arab youth. He was sixteen, his skin the color of rich coffee, and his eyes full of life. I had let myself again foolishly think I had found the one person that would care about what my parents had made of the world, and then he had come home, excited that the aptitude test had selected him to be a farmer.

“I thought you wanted to be an Engineer?”

“I did,” he shrugged, “but the Gods need me to be a farmer.” He smiled broadly, that beautiful, happy smile I fell in love with.

“So be an Engineer, don’t let them choose,” I told him.

He frowned. “But they need me to be a farmer. The Gods know, Chase.”

My love died, like it always did, and I had walked and walked, following the Jordan River south until I reached its terminus—the Dead Sea. As I lay floating in the Dead Sea, I thought about drowning myself in the warm, salty embrace. After hours, I lost my nerve, and swam back to the shore and kept walking. South, into the Arabian Peninsula. I followed the Red Sea Coast for a week—I was in no hurry, my life had no meaning—when I came across a sign that pointed to a mountain called Jebel al-Lawz. A single word was spray painted beneath the mountain’s name—Hope.

Hope. I had been without hope for over twenty years.

I followed the road. It lead to a low, conical mountain. It was really more of a steep hill than a mountain. I had grown up in the sight of Mount Rainier rearing up like a monolith, looming over you every day clad in the blue-white majesty of its glaciers. Jebel al-Lawz was a squat, ugly, red mound, rising out of the desert, the summit blackened like it had been engulfed in flames.

As I neared the mountain, maybe just a few miles away, I passed through…something. It was a warm membrane of energy that gave way before me, enveloping me in golden light for the briefest instant, and then it passed. I blinked; the valley around the peak wasn’t empty anymore. Tents—colorful and ranging in shape, size, styles, and materials—were set up. They were pitched haphazardly, with no thought or planning.

People walked about. They were different. No-one dressed similarly, people laughed, children played. As I walked closer, I realized these were people who lived. What was this place? Who were these people? They saw me, and a hush seemed to fall about them. They began to gather, watching me with cautious faces.

“H-hello,” I hesitantly said. I felt a little afraid of them. I had never been afraid of my parents’ slaves; they would never have been able to harm me. But these people were free. I could see it in their eyes, in their postures, in the way some viewed me with hope, some with skepticism, or fear, or distrust.

The crowd parted, and a rugged young man and a young woman stepped out. The man was fit, sturdy, with brown hair and blue eyes, his arm around the woman; she was round-faced, a beautiful, welcoming smile gracing her lips. Her face was framed by braided black hair, coiled about her crown; reassurance filled her green eyes.

“You’re not their slaves?” I asked, chewing on my lips.

“No,” the man smiled. “We are the last free men and women. I am Doug Allard, and this is Tina, my wife.”

The woman, Tina, smiled, and threw her arms around my neck. I relaxed. “I’ve been searching for this for so long,” I whispered, my eyes brimming with tears.

“And we have waited even longer for you to arrive, Prophetess,” Tina whispered back.

“Prophetess?” I asked, pushing away from Tina. The crowd had grown larger, more than a hundred, and they all stared at me with…hope. I shivered despite the heat.

Doug nodded. “You are Chasity Glassner?”

“Yeah.” I looked around. These people were free. There were others that resisted my parents’ evil. Hope bubbled inside me. Had I really found what I’ve been searching for? I pushed down my hope, trying to temper it with caution; I had been disappointed so many times. “What is this place?”

“The refuge,” Tina answered. “For forty years Doug and I have waited in the wilderness for you, gathering those who were not satisfied with the world, with your parents. Excluding the children, we number one hundred and forty-four; seventy-two men, seventy-two women.”

I swallowed, “Why are you waiting for me?”

“To guide us, to renew the Gift of the Spirit to mankind,” Doug answered. “To free the World from bondage.”

I’d found it. Relief ballooned inside me, along with hope. So many years of walking, of doubt and bitterness, had finally paid off. “So why do you need me for that?”

“You are the daughter of two Warlocks,” Tina answered. “You have rejected their lifestyle, and turned your back on evil. Only you can perform the prayer of Rapha.”

I frowned, not recalling that prayer from the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. “What does it do?”

“Gives back hope to mankind,” Tina answered.

“My wife and I are the last Priests living. Your parents hunted down the last few of us, the final threats to their power,” Doug sadly said. “But we have done our duty, and hid while your parents dominated the world, all for this day.”

The Magicks of the Witch of Endor talked about Priests and Priestesses, men and women granted the powers of Heaven to fight Warlocks and Demons. “So you need my help to exorcise my parents?” I asked, smiling. That would free mankind.

We could be a family again. “Thank you!” I smiled, tears misting my eyes. “This is perfect! It’ll break their mind control and make them human again!”

Tina gave me a sad look. “I’m so sorry, child.”

I frowned. “Why? Exorcising won’t harm my parents. Right?”

“Your parents are beyond exorcism. They’ve absorbed the powers of Lucifer, Molech, Lilith, and many other Powers. No Priestess has the strength to overcome that. Only a Priest’s sword killing your parents would work, and…”

“And Father’s immortal,” I whispered. Hope burst inside me, replaced by cold dread. I pushed down the panic. They mentioned the Rapha prayer. “That’s what the new prayer is for, right? Stripping them of their powers?” Please, please, please, let that be true.

Tina’s green, sad eyes peered at me.

“They have to die?” That couldn’t be my voice; I hadn’t sounded that young in years.

“I’m sorry,” Tina whispered.

I’m sorry. The words were a punch to my stomach. I stumbled back; the world seemed to spin about me as tears burned down my cheeks. This can’t be happening! Not after all my searching. “I have to kill him?” My voice cracked, wavered. Oh, no. Father made himself immortal to everything except me. “Please, no! There has to be another way!”

Tina hugged me as I started weeping. “It’s your choice, Prophetess. The World can remain their slaves, or you can set them free.”

No, no, no. I wanted to free mankind, not murder my parents. This couldn’t be happening! I pushed away and ran. Tears stained my eyes, almost blinding me as I raced down a trail. I hated what my parents had done to mankind, but I loved them.

I couldn’t kill them, right? And it wouldn’t just be them, but all the people bound to them. The sluts, my half-siblings, the bodyguards and maids. My family for the World’s freedom. How fair was that?

This would be so much easier if I could hate them!

I ran up the side of the mountain, scampering up the gentle slope, climbing higher and higher. I scrabbled over red boulders; my years of walking had given me great endurance. I paused only to drink from my water bottle, then kept climbing, ignoring the sun pounding on my back. The rocks turned black; I found myself at the summit.

I stared out at the expanse of the Arabian Desert. Brown and yellow leading off in all directions, with just a smear of blue in the distance, the Red Sea. Once, black-robed Bedouin had wandered this wasteland, eking out an existence in the harsh landscape. But they had been moved to cities along the coast, ostensibly for their own good.

We are Gods, Chase. That gives us all the right.

Whatever crushes individuality is despotism. The words from ‘On Liberty’ echoed in my mind. Could I kill my parents? Was the blood of the few hundred people—my family—worth freeing billions from bondage? Did I have to destroy my soul to save mankind?

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. Thomas Jefferson had written those words when the American Colonies revolted against the British when they had no say in their own governance, no representatives in Parliament.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Other words written by Jefferson.

Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

My parents had robbed the world of Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness, leaving them only with their Lives. They may have meant well, but the results were monstrous. They had pruned all the character out mankind with their tyranny, leaving behind only stunted bushes shaped to my parents’ desires. Mere automatons going through the motions of living.

There was a sci-fi movie my Father loved, and I remembered at the end as one of the characters was dying, having sacrificing himself for the ship, he had said, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

One last tear rolled down my cheek as the sun set, and the stars twinkled to life across the crystal clear sky above me.

The needs of the many.

I watched the stars wheel across the night sky, twinkling down on us. I envied them. They had no concerns, no torn emotions. They just burned brightly, happily fusing hydrogen into helium into lithium into iron, until finally they died, whether in fiery explosions or guttering out like a candle.

As dawn neared, blushing the horizon in pink, I heard footsteps behind me—Doug and Tina. He held a scroll and she held a black knife. I stood and faced them. I didn’t know what to do, what was the right choice. Did the needs of the many outweigh the lives of my family? Were their needs more important than the wounds to my soul?

“Prophetess,” Tina greeted.

“I’m not your Prophetess,” I muttered. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

“I understand, child,” she whispered. “I would take the burden from you if I could.”

Her eyes burned with conviction. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what to do, so I just blurted out, “What is that scroll?”

“The original copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor,” Doug said, handing me the scroll. “I have kept it safe for forty years, waiting for the day you’d arrive. The prayer of Rapha is contained at the end of the scroll. Perhaps it will help with your decision.”

I unfurled the scroll. It contained square Hebrew letters and was written in Aramaic. It was familiar. The memory of Sam’s lessons in Semitic Languages from my childhood came back, and I recognized passages from her translation. I read the final prayer, frowning. This wasn’t in the copy my parents possessed.

My parents had definitely never seen this prayer. If they had, I would never have been allowed to roam free. “And the Creator knew, in his infinite Wisdom,” it read, “that a time would come when his Priest and Priestess would fall against the forces of the Adversary. Darkness would cover the world, and again the Gifts of the Spirit would be needed, spread by the words of the chosen Prophet, one born of the union of two Warlocks, bound by the Zimmah ritual, and used as the focus of the Eylowm ritual. Only the Prophet can restore the Gift to mankind upon the summit of Mount Sinai. The Prophet must…”

I looked up at Doug and Tina in horror as comprehension flooded my exhausted mind. “The Eylowm ritual is a trap?” My hand trembled. “My parents were manipulated into their own downfall?”

“Why else is it so powerful?” asked Tina. “Immortality? No weapon, no force, no illness can harm your father, let alone kill him. It’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it?”

“That’s monstrous!”

“Your parents made the choice of their own free will,” Doug softly answered. “They made their pacts with the Adversary, gained power in exchange for their souls. They declared themselves false gods, and unleashed the demonic hordes upon mankind. Choices have consequences, Chasity, and the Creator is always ready to turn those consequences to his advantage.”

“If He’s so powerful, why didn’t He stop my parents!” I shouted. “Why do I have to do this? Why?”

“You do not have to do this,” Tina smiled. “It’s your choice. Free will is the most important thing in all of creation; He would never take that away from you. That’s why He didn’t interfere with your parents. They had to be free to choose, or there’s no choice at all. Without choice, then we’re just mindless puppets, slaves, and that’s not what He wants.”

Slaves. My parents’ had enslaved mankind; the most monstrous thing imaginable. They had made their choice, and denied all the world of theirs. It wasn’t right. The needs of the many have to come before the needs of the few. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. John Stuart Mills was right; my parents had harmed, were harming, all of mankind, and therefore it was only right that power should be exercised against them. A strange calm filled me. I had made my decision.

“I will be your Prophetess,” I answered; my chin held high.

Doug nodded.

“This is a Mispachs. One of three forged by Cain from the metal of a falling star,” Tina said, handing it to me. “Nick the blade, and your blood will bind it to you. Anyone wounded with this blade will die. Only your lifeblood will save them.”

I nodded; Lilith had almost killed Mother with one. I took the ugly, black-iron blade, stared at it, then I pricked my thumb. A drop of dark blood beaded on my tan flesh. I smeared it on the blade. The dagger turned red for a moment, drinking in my blood, then went back to ugly black. I was connected to the damned thing; it felt like an open wound throbbing on my forehead. Tina handed me a sheath, and I put the dagger into my pack.

I reread the scroll again, committing the Prayer of Rapha to memory, and turned to face the rising sun. “This is Mount Sinai?” That was the only place in the world the spell could be cast. “I thought that was up on the Sinai Peninsula, not in the middle of Arabia.”

Doug nodded. “Much has been lost in the thousands of years since the last Prophet stood here and gave the Third Gift to mankind.”

I raised my arms to the rising sun. “The Highest One, hear the prayers of your Children! Deliver us from evil, and send your Spirit to Gift us with your Blessing, to Gird us with Belief, and Arm us with Faith!”

Power flowed into me, golden, beautiful, pure. It flowed from Doug, from Tina, it flowed from my parents half the world away. More power flowed from the spirits of the dead, the men and women who had died unable to pass their Gift on: Isabella, Agnes, John, Gregory, Eustace, Isolde, Tristram, and more. So many more. One hundred and forty-four souls gave up their Gifts, until they were all contained within me.

I was the Prophetess, the Vessel, and I shared the Gift, giving a part to each of the one hundred and forty-four gathered—the two atop the mountain, and the one-hundred and forty-two at the base, the new Priests and Priestesses, the new Monks and Nuns—to save the world from the evils of my parents.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 53.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 51: The Morning Star

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 51: The Morning Star

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Violence

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated. To contact me, you can leave a comment or email me at mypenname3000@mypenname3000.com, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 50.



And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood.

–Revelations 6:12-13

Tuesday, August 24th, 1995 – Lucifer – The Abyss

I stared at Mark Glassner’s string, following his unremarkable life into the future. He was the one. I could feel it. He was lonely, desperate, and just selfish enough to be my pawn. If I made a little nudge here on May 30th, 2013, whispering into his dream, it would send his path to the library, and there he would find a book that contained one of my many summoning spells.

I watched my projection of the future change. Mark’s string turned red; he would make his Pact a week after obsessing over the book. Strings rapidly started to rearrange after that date. I examined the probable changes. He meets his soulmate three weeks earlier, and, to my surprise, she makes her own Pact. How very interesting. Then a priestess’s string touches Mark and his soulmate, exorcising them. Vexing. Gabriel’s priestesses were ever a thorn in my side. But they were losing the war; decade after decade more and more died without passing on their Gift. I pondered how I could influence the world to protect Mark from Sister Louise.

It came to me in a flash of brilliance: Lilith was the solution. I needed her freed—she was the final key to the prison, and Mark needed protection.

I made a few more adjustments, adding Lilith to the my prediction, and examined the result. It looked very promising. I worked for days, weeks, or just minutes—time had no meaning in the Abyss—playing with probabilities until I had the future I needed. Mark would become the Antichrist, leading the world astray, and Lilith would be freed to be killed by Mark. The prison would be open.

I would be free.

Only one thing troubled me. Mary’s string will one day intersect with the Mother Superior in Rennes-le-Château, France. Troubling. The Motherhouse possessed a Matmown. I could not predict how Mary would react, or what knowledge she might learn, from that moment on. It made everything that came after uncertain. And if Mark learned how to construct his own Matmown, then things would only grow more uncertain.

I would need a spy.

The strings showed Mark would gather an increasingly large harem of women, all bound to him by the Zimmah ritual. It would be very tricky to insert a spy into his ranks; I would have to armor her against his powers. I would need a child. Someone that can be molded by the right soul, and guided right into his path. I searched and searched, but none of the women that intersected Mark’s life worked. Possession was always difficult to achieve under the best of circumstances. I kept moving farther back, patiently exploring scenario after scenario.

After a century or an hour of searching, I found her. An unborn fetus growing like a parasite in Serena Hertz’s womb. The mother was dying, and neither she nor the child would survive. I entered her dream, and nudged her. I knew just the summoning for her to use. I waited for her to wake, for the seed I planted in her mind to sprout and bear me fruit.

“Please,” I heard her pray across the Veil. “I am desperate. Send to me an Angel of Light.”

The Veil parted, and I manifested in my true form before the sickly woman, blazing like a glorious star—the most beautiful and majestic being in all creation. Far more worthy of ruling the Earth than the disgusting sacks of flesh that crawled about on it like lice in the mange of a dog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday, October 13th, 1995 – Jezebel – The Abyss

The dogs tore at my body.

The mangy hounds always feasted upon me. My flesh eternally regenerated; my punishment for worshiping Asherah and seducing an entire kingdom into apostasy. Thousands of years of unceasing torment while my Goddess watched over me with delight. My punishment was simple—I experienced my death played out over and over—the fall from the window and the pack of dogs that tore at my flesh. Sometimes she would take the dogs away, let me think my torment was over, bathe my wounds, and bring me to dine at her table—and then I would hear their awful baying.

Until the day Lucifer came for me, driving the dogs away with his flail of light; his hand was soft as silk as he caressed my face. His face had been handsome, trusting—there was love in his eyes. I had almost forgotten about such gentle emotions.

“You belong to me, Jezebel” he had whispered. “You’ll never be tormented again.”

I shouldn’t have believed him, not with all the tricks my Goddess had played on me over the eons—but I wanted to. I let hope blossom in me as he helped me to my feet. Around us, the dogs circled warily, staying just out of the nimbus of Lucifer’s light.

“Why?” I finally asked, his light washing away the pain.

“Because I love you.” My heart beat faster. I kept trying to remind myself that he was a demon, not to be trusted. But my heart had ever lusted after power, and no being was more powerful in the Abyss than the Morning Star. “I have a task for you. If you succeed, you shall be my queen, and rule not only the Abyss, but all of Creation at my side.”

“What task?” I asked.

“Watch, guide, wait,” he said, touching my forehead.

And then I was born, a shadow hidden in the mind of an infant—Alison. Lucifer had made a deal with the mother in the guise of an angel. Her body had been dying and would not have lived long enough to give birth to her daughter, so she made a deal with Lucifer. He saved the unborn daughter’s life, and the mother foolishly pledged Alison’s service to Lucifer thinking he was an angel sent by the Creator. The mother died during childbirth and, thanks to her pledge, the child was open to my possession.

The early years were almost a new kind of torment. All Alison could do was cry, eat, and shit, and I was trapped in her body, helpless. But she grew, and I was able to experience this new, modern world from the curious eyes of a child; forever trapped in a corner of her mind, a prisoner that could only watch and guide and wait. For now.

As she grew older, I would amuse myself with whispered suggestions to Alison. “Why don’t you steal Lisa’s cookie, no-one is watching.” Then I would delight as she pouted in the corner when she was caught. I became her own personal devil, whispering in her ear just like the ones in the cartoons Alison loved to watch. Only there wasn’t an angel whispering advice to counter mine.

As she aged, I found new experiences to guide her towards. Her body began to change, breasts budding, hips widening, and new desires awakening between her legs. I guided her choice of clothing, steering her towards more and more revealing outfits; I suggested how to wear her make-up, to appear older and wanton. I pointed out the older boys, and put depraved fantasies in her head about what she could do with them.

She was fourteen when she lost her virginity in the back of High School Senior’s car. My whispers had made her so horny she was begging to be fucked, and she came as his cock shoved roughly into her cunt and pierced her maidenhead. The Senior told all his friends about the Freshman slut that put out on the first date, and she was passed around amongst them—used and discarded.

“That’s what men want you for,” I whispered to her as she cried into her bed when she learned the Senior boy didn’t love her. “You’re a slut! A wanton, dirty girl that needs a hard cock in her. Embrace it; you’ll be happier.”

Alison threw herself into her new lifestyle like a fisherman casting his net into the sea, sweeping up new experiences. She immersed herself in all the filth she could. I laughed as she had ‘Cum on in’ tattooed above her cunt, then let the tattoo artist cum in her a lot. To get her nipples pierced, she sucked her first pussy, and found out just how much she loved the taste. She’d fuck anyone. She was a slut; ready to be dominated by the first man with balls that came along.

Just like Lucifer wanted.

“You ever wanted to be a sex slave?” Mark Glassner had asked Alison as he fucked the Hot Topic salesgirl, his cock dirty from fucking Alison’s ass.

This was Alison’s dream come true. She had cum so hard when he had fucked her ass, and I had conditioned the girl to crave more depravity. “Oh, yes,” she had panted. “I love it when a guy takes charge.”

All my whispers, all the tedium I had endured, had finally paid off; I maneuvered the little slut right into the clutches of Mark Glassner. And now it was time to watch, to report on Mark to Lucifer in Alison’s dreams. All of Mark’s secrets, all of their plotting in the Matmown, revealed to my bridegroom.

And after nineteen years stuck in this insipid girl’s mind, it was time to act. Unlike Alison, I had been insulated from Mark’s control, wrapped in the protection of the stupid cunt’s soul, a hidden dagger ready to strike at my bridegroom’s command.

I stepped forward, shoving Alison back into the shadows of her own mind, making her as helpless as I had been. The ritual Alison had been chanting was disrupted; the spell backfired. The diamond on Mary’s rod exploded into dust, and my bridegroom stood triumphant before Mark, glowing with the light of the sun.

“The fools trusted me, my bridegroom,” I breathed, throwing the brass rod to the ground. “Just like you said he would. I have completed my final task and await my reward.”

The look of shock of Mark Glassner’s face was worth all the hard work and suffering. All of his careful plans were ruined by me. Lucifer had won, and I would rule the world at his side. Power would be mine again! And this time no righteous prophet would cause my downfall!

“And you shall be rewarded, my bride,” Lucifer promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday, November 18th, 2014 – Alison de la Fuentes – Bradley Park

Lucifer stood before Master, just moments away from being trapped. I began reciting the Hebrew spell for the seventh and final time, the words flowing easily after months of practice. “Aney laged helel ben shakar ’em penyenh zeh. Kevhev—”

Something seized control of my body, throwing me back into my own mind. The diamond on Mary’s rod exploded. What was going on? My body moved without my control, and terrible words issued from my mouth: “The fools trusted me, my bridegroom. Just like you said he would. I have completed my final task and await my reward.”

This can’t be happening! I would never betray Master! What was going on? What sort of nightmare was this? I needed to speak the words of the ritual, I needed to help Mistress trap Lucifer! They were counting on me!

I tried to move my lips, but I was rebuffed by the soul controlling me. No! I screamed in the silence of my mind. This was my body! I again tried to seize control. Whatever foul thing that possessed me struck my soul. I reeled back, deeper into the shadows of my mind. No, no, no!

Yes, yes, yes, Alison! It is my turn, you stupid slut! the soul that possessed me hissed. Shock passed through me; I recognized that voice. It was my subconscious; the whispered advice that had guided my entire life. This is my body now. You’ll get to spend the rest of eternity shrieking in the corner of your own mind, helpless to do anything.

Who are you? I demanded of the voice.

Jezebel. Queen of Israel and bride of Lucifer.

Light flashed as Master and Lucifer fought. The Devil flailed at Mark with straps of light, smashing into my Master’s golden armor, and sending him reeling in a burst of rainbow colors. “You cannot defeat me, Mark!” Lucifer boasted. “I led the Hosts of Heaven against Michael himself, and dueled the greatest fighter in Creation. And you think I will be bested by a puny, disgusting insect like you?”

Master parried the flail, and was driven back by the ferocity of Lucifer’s attack. Fire ignited about Mistress’s body, then flowed down her form to her outstretched hand creating a ball of red and orange, the air dancing with its heat. The ball hurtled towards Lucifer’s back. The Devil spun his flail, knocking the ball to the side. It sailed through the air and struck a tree, igniting it like it had been soaked in gasoline.

Master swung at Lucifer’s side, and the Devil let out a blinding flash of light that drove Master back. The soul that controlled me fixated on Mistress. You get to watch as I murder your precious Mistress, taunted Jezebel.

Don’t you dare harm my Mistress!

Stop me, little slut.

Jezebel made my arm reach down, and draw my bronze dagger. I fought with her, trying to claw at her soul. She seemed to backhand me, and I reeled back deeper into my mind. My body was forced to advanced on Mistress from behind.

No! Please stop! I cried out.

I lunged at her twisted soul, trying to wrap my arms around her neck and throttle the bitch. Jezebel grabbed my hand, twisted, and pain exploded through my soul. Mistress was throwing another fireball at Lucifer, distracting him from pressing his attack on Master. And she was unaware that my possessed body advanced on her.

“Alison!” Desiree exclaimed. My beautiful wife stepped between us and Mistress. “What’s wrong, mi Sirenita?”

“I am not Alison,” Jezebel hissed with my voice. “Get out of the way, you stupid whore!”

“No!” Desiree scrabbled for the dagger in Jezebel’s hand. “Are you in there, Alison?” she cried out as she wrestled with me.

Yes! I shouted. I fought, I clawed, I bit at Jezebel’s soul. This is my body! My life!

Not anymore! Jezebel gloated as she grappled with Desiree, and shoved me back deeper into my mind.

Desiree hooked her leg about mine, pivoting and slamming me hard to the earth. “Give me back my wife!” she bellowed, falling upon us. The wind was knocked out of my body; Jezebel’s grasp weakened—I pounced on her.

And was rebuffed again.

Her will was too strong, her soul too ancient. How could I fight against such strength? I was only nineteen. I was powerless, weak. Jezebel’s will was like steel wires warped around my limbs. I was a puppet, and she was forcing me to kill my wife.

Desiree grappled with my enslaved body, and we rolled around on the soft grass. Jezebel forced me to scratch, bite, and punch my beautiful wife. Lights flashed across the field as Master and Mistress fought the Devil. Jezebel was winning. I didn’t understand; Desiree was stronger than me, a better fighter than me. Why was she losing?

Then I saw my wife’s eyes. She doesn’t want to hurt me—she was holding back.

Jezebel forced me to pin my wife, and stabbed the bronze dagger at Desiree’s naked throat. My wife caught the knife, halting it just short of penetrating her flesh. She strained against my body, but I was on top, and Jezebel had my entire weight pressing down on the blade. I struggled harder to take control of my body, but the bitch wouldn’t relent. Every second I failed to reclaim my body, the bronze blade crept closer to my wife’s nut-brown throat.

Despair filled me. I just wasn’t strong enough. I was going to be forced to kill my wife.

“Alison, please!” Desiree screamed. “My love, mi Sirenita, I know you’re in there! Fight! I believe in you!”

Bronze pricked her neck, a drop of blood beading red.

“Fight, Alison!”

How could I fight? She was stronger than me. This was like one of those sci-fi shows where the enemy invades the hero’s mind. But the hero always realized that it was their own mind, taking control of what was happening. Wait, could that work? Could I control things in here? This was my own mind, not hers.

I needed to sever her control, snap the strings that bound me. I imagined a pair of scissors. They appeared in my hand, and I squeezed at the handles, trying to cut the string. I strained against the bonds as my wife strained against the knife; both of us were failing. Jezebel was winning. The string was too strong.

Stupid! You can’t cut steel with scissors. You have to melt it.

The scissors became a blow torch that sputtered to life in my hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark Glassner

Lucifer’s flail of light caught me in the side, sizzling against my armor and tearing gouges in the bronze. The world spun about me before I landed in a heap on the grass. I forced myself to stand. Chasity stood over me, fending off the Devil’s attack, buying me time to recover. She was the only ghost left; the others had been shredded into silver mist by that fucking weapon. The flail swung fast, and had twice my reach.

Mary threw another fireball at Lucifer; the fire deflected with a casual flick of his flail, and Mary dived to avoid a beam of light that dissolved the grass and earth at her feet into coruscating gas—an aurora flowering beautiful out of the ground. I roared, throwing myself back into the fray, turning his attention back to me, away from Mary. My wife didn’t have my reflexes or my strength.

“Master!” a woman shouted.

I risked a glance, and saw 51 leading leading a squad of the bodyguards towards us, black rifles clutched in desperate hands. Shit, what were they doing! They had their orders to stay back. More bodyguards ran across the park from the other directions. All three hundred of them were charging in. They would be slaughtered.

“You can disobey my orders only to save my or Mary’s life,” I had commanded them.

Yellow-fire strobed from each rifle, illuminating the bodyguards firing: tall and graceful 211, dusky-skinned 24, fiery-redhead 77, feisty 44, petite 100, and more. Like a swarm of angry bees, the bronze bullets—inscribed with enchantments by Candy, allowing the bits of lead to harm supernatural beings—stung Lucifer, and light bled from him. He roared in pain; a shimmering wall sprang up before him, rippling beneath the swarm of lead. Then a beam of pure light swept across the field; both earth and women vaporized into glowing clouds. The surviving bodyguards scattered like a flock of birds before the swooping falcon as more light lanced out.

I swung at Lucifer’s shining leg, ducking beneath his flail, and missed his glowing flesh by inches. Shadows shifted, his glowing weapon swinging, and I dove to the side as Lucifer raked the ground where I stood. I rolled to a crouch; Chasity leaped at Lucifer’s back. She nimbly ducked his attack, but was driven back. I tried to rush in, but that fucking flail swept around, batting my sword to the side. He flicked the flail and struck my breastplate before I could bring my sword up to parry. The blow battered me to my knees. Lucifer loomed over me; I dived back, the flail snapping down and disintegrating a clod of dirt, a puff of glowing gas rising up.

I regained my feet, and faced the Devil.

“I am the Morning Star!” Lucifer bellowed. “Bow down to me, worship me, and I shall forget your transgression today, Mark. Continue in your defiance, and your torment shall be unending!”

This was not working. Another two bodyguards were felled by his beam of light as they crouched behind playground equipment, their bodies reduced to a glowing gas that wafted away in the breeze. Sweat drenched my body, my lungs burned with exertion. I couldn’t keep dodging his attacks. Fear fought with adrenaline—I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to see Mary die. I licked my lips; could I serve Lucifer? Could I worship him as my God?

If it meant Mary living, I could do anything.

Mark, I have a plan! Mary sent telepathically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alison de la Fuentes

The steel wire attached to my body’s right arm glowed cherry red in my imagination and, with a steely twang, snapped. The dagger stopped as my arm was freed of Jezebel’s control; Desiree forced the dagger away from her throat.

“Yes, fight!” Desiree encouraged. “I believe in you, mi Sirenita!”

I attacked the next cable.

You fucking slut! Jezebel roared at me. The blowtorch vanished from my astonished hands.

Fuck, she can control things, too. An imaginary wall appeared behind me, and manacles snaked out from the wall, snapping about my wrists. I focused all my will, and pictured myself free. The manacles wavered as we both concentrated—calm wisdom versus fiery youth.

This is my goddamn body; get the fuck out of it! I roared at her.

Drive me out, little slut! she taunted.

I am a slut! His slut! And proud of it!

The manacles vanished; I was free, and I fixed my gaze on her. Let’s see how she likes to be bound! Adamantium manacles slammed onto her wrists and ankles. Stronger than steel, stronger than diamond. Nothing could break, melt, or destroy adamantium. It didn’t matter that the substance wasn’t real so long as I believed it!

I did not endure endless torments in the Abyss to be beaten by a little trollop like you!

Her will beat at mine, throwing every scrap of her indomitable personality against mine. The manacles wavered, turning into billowing smoke coiled about her limbs. I grit my metaphysical teeth, and bore down with all my angsty, teenage passion. This is my body! I am Alison de la Fuentes! I am Mark and Mary’s sex slave! I advanced on her, my determination beating down her mind. I am Their slut!

Smoke solidified, chains rattled. Jezebel was caged.

Save me, my love! Jezebel howled. I imagined a bronze dagger gripped in my soul’s hand. You promised me, Lucifer!

I stabbed Jezebel through the heart. Her soul gurgled as it started to dissolve into mist. Didn’t an eternity in Hell teach you to never trust a demon? I gloated as she faded from my mind, exorcised from my body, and sent back to the Abyss to rot for eternity.

“Alison?” Desiree asked.

I was in control! I tossed the dagger down, and kissed my wife. The battle faded from both of us as we kissed, we cried, we held each other. “I fought for you,” I murmured between sweet kisses, her beautiful face lit by pulsating lights.

“Is this really the time for that, Alison?” Xiu shouted. “Get to some cover! It’s Armageddon out here!”

I looked around. Trees crackled on fire, glowing clouds drifted through the air, gunfire barked from every direction. At the center, Master and Lucifer dueled and my heart sank. Master was losing, driven to his knees, barely dodging a blow that surely would have killed him.

“I am the Morning Star!” Lucifer bellowed. “Bow down to me, worship me, and I shall forget your transgression today.”

Master froze, facing Lucifer warily. Mistress strode out, fire dancing on her hand. “As if we’d ever serve such a foul, loathsome creature as you!” she shouted in defiance. “Slither back to Hell and leave the world to your betters!”

Red pulsated through Lucifer’s pure, shining body like the mottling on a serpent’s body. Light lanced out. Mistress tried to dodge out of the way. My heart stopped. An aurora was born as the beam dissolved her body into a glowing gas.

“Mary!” Master roared in loss, his sword falling from his grasp, transforming into golden motes. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.

I was too stunned for grief. I could only watch as my Mistress wafted away in the gentle breeze. She was as beautiful in death as she had been in life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Mark’s cry of loss, of bitter anguish, sang in my ears, and I savored every last second of it.

Love. The mortal’s great strength, and their great weakness.

He stared in horror at the billowing cloud of atoms that had once been his wife. Hope was dead in him. I strode forward; my victory complete. Across the world, my demonic captains—Asherah, Dagon, Chemosh, Astarte, Baal-zebub, Hadad, Marduk, Tammuz, Milcom, and Ashtoreth—would be bursting free of the Abyss. They would subdue these pathetic mortals, reminding them just why their ancestors had worshiped us. Feared us.

Loved us.

The fires of sacrifices would be lit— sweet and pleasing holocausts would again be made to us.

I looked down at Mark in disgust. To think the Creator had wanted me to bow down to such a weak, selfish, filthy beast as him and his ilk. He did not deserve to live! Not after he challenged me. I had promised him a long life. Well, a year-and-a-half was a lifetime for most insects. More than enough time for a disgusting worm like Mark. He could rot in the Abyss for all time with that cunt of his; after all I had another promise to uphold.

I raised up my flail.

Pain exploded in my back; a piercing agony that robbed my limbs of strength. I collapsed onto my knees, my flail slipping from my hand. Behind me stood Mary; a bronze dagger, gleaming with my blood, gripped in her hand. How? I killed the disgusting whore! I reduced her to the most elemental particles of creation! What had I missed?

Mark’s sword appeared in his hands; I scrabbled for my dropped flail. The sword descended. No, I will not be defeated. I won. I am free of His prison! I grabbed my flail, and swung it with every last ounce of strength I possessed.

I am the Morning Star. I am the greatest and most beautiful being in all of creation! No-one shines brighter than me! I am not about to be defeated by this filthy insect!

Mark’s sword severed my head.

I was falling, falling, falling into darkness.

I bellowed, cursing the heavens with every last scrap of my strength as I fell past the darkness and into fire. I appeared in the Abyss; upon my bronze throne in the City of Dis. Rage—burning as hot as the one that had consumed me the day Michael had defeated me and had me cast into this pit—filled me. I slammed my fist into the throne’s armrest. I had been bested by a sniveling, cowardly, disgusting, filthy worm! A creature only fit to grovel in the muck before my radiance!

“My lord Lucifer,” purred a shadowy lemure, peaking its cowardly face around a column made of damned souls encased in bronze, each soul frozen in agony. “There’s something…different about you.”

My raged filled me. I had been so close. I held out my hand, summoning my flail. My anger needed a release; my minions needed chastisement. Then I would rise back up, and tear Mark Glassner’s body apart ligament by ligament.

“You seem…weaker, my Lord.” Hunger burned in the lemure’s shadowy eyes. It crept closer to me, like a feral dog cautiously approaching a carcass.

My flail didn’t appear.

More lemures slinked out of the shadows. And not just lemures prowled towards me; the fiery souls—those damned fools that I kept forever burning as their punishment for selling their souls—stalked towards me. I tried to summon my flail again, fear pounding inside me. I looked behind me; more souls, lemures, and demons stalked, drawn by the scent of my weakness.

Cold fell upon me. I was killed by a Priest sword—my powers were gone. Every gift I had ever been granted, every ounce of energy I had ever seized from my rivals, every last iota of the strength I had possessed since Creation itself was gone, stolen by Mark Glassner. I was as weak as an insect. As weak as a human.

The demons and souls and lemures swarmed me—all those millions that I had oppressed, tormented, and punished over the eons. All the millions that I had instructed in cruelties and torments so vile that even the worst of humanity would have blanched.

And they were all so eager to show me just how much they have learned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark Glassner

Mary shone with light—pure, unadulterated, beautiful.

The power from Lucifer burst through me, overflowing my soul and surging across the chains that bound me to Mary. We lit the night, driving back the darkness. There was so much power—Molech’s was a mere swallow, Lilith’s a small cup. What we drank from Lucifer was a river, a lake, an ocean.

Burning like a star, my wife came to me, and I embraced her, kissed her. Held her.

We beat the Devil. Lucifer. Satan.

Around us, dark figures gathered. Alison and Desiree clung to each other; whatever had possessed Alison was broken. Jessica walked between Xiu and Korina, hope shining in their eyes. Lillian’s pierced face was wide with awe. Violet trembled with relief. April’s glasses reflecting our power. And more gathered: 51 and her surviving bodyguards; Sam and Candy, their mouths open in disbelief; Willow and her nurses attending to the wounded.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Mary stated, holding me tight.

I laughed. “Really? It was your plan.”

“What happened?” Alison asked, staring at us with a mix of joy and befuddlement.

We were shining as bright as the sun, but our light didn’t hurt their gaze. I concentrated on this new power, on this control of light, and realized I was unconsciously protecting my loved ones. I dimmed it anyways; a moment later, Mary followed.

“We saw you die, mi Reina.”

“Did you?” Mary asked with a giggle.

“An illusion,” Sam realized. “The Ashan spell combined with the Nun’s Cathar prayer to turn yourself invisible.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe that worked,” Mary answered. “He was so fixated on Mark, he didn’t even hear me walk up behind him. My heart was pounding so loud in my chest, I thought for sure he could hear it.”

“He was arrogant and prideful,” I smiled, stroking my wife’s face; pride for her burned inside me—I had married the most amazing woman. “He thought he had won. It never occurred to him that you could outsmart him. You saved us, Mare. You were wonderful!”

Mary smiled and blushed. “You weren’t half-bad yourself.” She kissed me, and time seemed to stop for a moment as I held my wife.

Then reality crashed back in. Gunfire erupted off in the distance. The Legion soldiers guarding the perimeter were engaging something.

“What’s happening?” Mary asked.

51 pulled out her radio. “51 to HQ, what’s the sitrep at Bradley Park?”

“Spectres of unknown origin have been attacking our troops since the sun vanished,” a voice squawked back. “The Legion is holding. We’re monitoring the local news feeds and, well, there is chaos across the world.”

“The prison was opened,” I realized. The price for Mary’s life. Lucifer wasn’t the only being to escape. He was just the most dangerous.

Mary gave me a penetrating stare. “We made our choice, Mark, now we’ll have to clean up the mess.”

I chose love over the world—what a selfish bastard I am. I glanced at my wife, and knew I would make the same choice again.

“Summon General Brooks,” I ordered. “We have plans to make.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For seven days and seven nights, a shadow stained the Sun and blood painted the Moon. Terrors from mankind’s darkest nightmares stalked the night. The Powers of Hell each set up their fiefdoms, and ruled their subjects with cruelty and malice. All of mankind cried out for deliverance, praying to their Living Gods. On that seventh day, our Merciful and Loving Gods descended upon Washington D.C., and there utterly destroyed the Power of Dagon the Foul. They held up his severed head, and drove the shadow from the Sun and the blood from the Moon. It was Their promise to all mankind—have hope, We are coming to free you.
–The Second Book of Vivian 1:23-27

Click here for Chapter 52.

To be continued…