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About mypenname3000

Just a guy who likes to write dirty stories.

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel Kapitel 1: Die Baristas

 

 

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel

Kapitel 1: Die Baristas

Von mypenname3000

Übersetzt von Horem

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Male/Females, Mind Control, Rimming, Anal, Oral, Work, Magic

Yes, this is in German. Horem graciously offered to translate the Devil’s Pact into German. 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.



„Und das war’s?“ fragte ich. Mein Daumen pochte noch etwas von dem Piecks mit der Feder.

„Das war’s“, sagte der Teufel jovial und steckte den Vertrag in seine Mappe. „Ich gehe dann jetzt. Es sei denn, dass du noch irgendwelche Fragen hast, Mark?“

Es gab eine Pause und ich versuchte zu denken, aber ich war immer noch zu erstaunt darüber, dass es funktioniert hatte. Nach 27 Lebensjahren war ich immer noch Jungfrau. Ich war nicht hässlich, ich war einfach nur ein durchschnittlich aussehender Mann mit einer Brille und leichtem Übergewicht. Ich war nur unglaublich schüchtern, wenn es um Frauen ging. Ich glaube, es war eine Mischung aus mangelndem Selbstvertrauen, Nervosität in der Anwesenheit von Fremden und einer gewissen Angst vor Ablehnung, die zu meiner Situation geführt hatte. Wahrscheinlich am ehesten diese Furcht vor Ablehnung. Es war die reine Verzweiflung, die mich um Mitternacht hierher an diese einsame Straßenkreuzung bei den bewaldeten Hügeln vor den Cascade Mountains gebracht hatte.

Ich hatte gelesen, dass man den Teufel herbeirufen konnte, wenn man eine Schachtel mit gewissen Dingen um Mitternacht an einer Kreuzung vergrub. Im Austausch für seine Seele würde man drei Wünsche frei haben. Mir kam das zwar lächerlich vor, aber ich sammelte die Dinge: ein Foto von mir, Erde von einem Friedhof, einen Knochen einer schwarzen Katze und eine Schafgarbe. Ich fand eine Kreuzung von zwei Schotterstraßen und vergrub die Schachtel.

Ich wartete und fühlte mich wie ein vollkommener Idiot. Und ich wartete. Und ich wartete. Eine Ewigkeit schien vergangen zu sein, mein Bauch verkrampfte sich. Ich wollte schon gehen, als der Teufel tatsächlich kam. Er kam einfach aus den Schatten hervor. Ich war verblüfft. Meine Gedanken verwirrten sich. Der Teufel begrüßte mich mit einem freundlichen Lächeln. Es war ein attraktiver Mann, dunkles Haar, er hatte einen teuren schwarzen Anzug an. Das einzige Ungewöhnliche an ihm waren seine scharlachroten Augen.

„Hallo, Mr. Glassner. Was kann ich für Sie tun?“ fragte der Teufel höflich.

„Ich… ähhh…“ stammelte ich. Die Überraschung hatte meine Zunge gelähmt. Er wartete geduldig, bis ich meine Gedanken gesammelt hatte. „Ich habe ein paar Wünsche.“

„Natürlich, natürlich“, sagte er. „Was hätten Sie denn gerne?“

Ich schluckte. Meine Stimme klang brüchig, als ich ihm meine Wünsche mitteilte. „Ein langes gesundes Leben.“

Der Teufel nickte. „Das ist ein guter Wunsch. Der zweite?“

„Sexuelles Stehvermögen“, sagte ich. Meine Wangen wurden vor Verlegenheit rot. „Ich möchte in der Lage sein, es so oft zu machen, wie ich möchte.“

Der Teufel nickte. In seinen Augen sah ich Verständnis. Keine Beurteilung. Ich war jetzt etwas selbstsicherer und sagte: „Ich möchte, dass die Leute um mich herum alles tun, was ich ihnen freundlich sage.“

Der Teufel grinste. Es war ein hungriges räuberisches Grinsen. Es gab einen Blitz und ein wenig gelben Rauch und in seiner Hand erschien ein Dokument. Der Rauch stank nach faulen Eiern. „Lesen Sie das durch“, sagte er und gab mir den Vertrag.

Ich las. Alles schien sehr klar zu sein. Drei Wünsche für meine Seele. Schien günstig zu sein. Was war meine Seele wirklich wert? Was hatte ich mit meinem Leben gemacht? Nichts. Ein billiges Ein-Zimmer-Appartement, ein altes vergammeltes Auto und ein Scheißjob, in dem ich versuchte, Staubsauger an hochnäsige reiche Schlampen zu verkaufen. Ich nickte und er hatte plötzlich eine altmodische Feder in der Hand. Er stach mir mit der Feder in den Daumen und ich unterschrieb den Vertrag mit meinem Blut. Dann unterschrieb auch noch der Teufel.

„Ich werde dann mal wieder gehen. Es sei denn Sie haben noch Fragen, Mark?“

Der Teufel nahm mein Schweigen als Nein. Mit einem freundlichen Lächeln verschwand er wieder im Schatten. Und da verstand ich, dass wir fertig waren. Ich stolperte zu meinem alten Ford Taurus. Meine Beine fühlten sich schwach an wie bei einem neugeborenen Tier. Ich ließ mich auf die Motorhaube fallen. Die Stoßdämpfer quietschten, der Wagen schaukelte und ich starrte in den Himmel auf die Sterne.

Ich dachte darüber nach, was ich mit meinen Fähigkeiten machen sollte. Fantasien schossen durch meinen Kopf. Endlich mit anderen gleichziehen, ein luxuriöses Leben führen, Ficken. Ganz bestimmt Ficken. Ich machte Pläne und spielte die Szenarios immer wieder durch. Bevor ich es mitbekam, ging die Sonne auf.

Als die Sonne aufging und den Horizont rosa färbte, fühlte ich mich anders. Es war so, als hätte ich gesehen, wie der Sterne auseinander genommen worden und dann wieder zusammengenäht worden waren. Neu gemacht. Wiedergeboren. Besser als ich gewesen war. Kein Loser mehr. Vor mir lag ein ganz neues Leben. Ich war jetzt jemand. Lächelnd stieg ich in mein Auto, startete den Motor und fuhr über die Schotterstraße, um mein neues Leben zu finden.

Ich fuhr zurück in die Zivilisation. Ich kam an Einkaufszentren vorbei. In mir war eine Mischung aus Aufregung und Erschöpfung. Ich hatte das Gefühl, als könnte ich den ganzen Tag durchschlafen, aber ich war viel zu aufgeregt dazu. Als ich eins von den vielen Starbucks sah, die es anscheinend an jeder Kreuzung in Washington gab, erkannte ich, dass ich zwei Fliegen mit einer Klappe schlagen konnte. Ich könnte ein wenig Koffein bekommen, das ich dringend brauchte und ich konnte meine neuen Kräfte ausprobieren.

Ich war nervös, als ich den Laden betrat. In meinem Kopf gab es jede Menge Zweifel. All die Zuversicht und die Sicherheit waren beim Sonnenaufgang verschwunden. Die vergangene Nacht war nur ein Traum. Eine Halluzination. Ein sehr ausgearbeiteter Streich auf meine Kosten. Wahrscheinlich mit versteckten Kameras, die mich schließlich vor einem Millionenpublikum lächerlich machen würden.

Im Starbucks war es ziemlich voll. Eine Menge Leute waren auf dem Weg zur Arbeit. Hier arbeiteten drei Baristas. Ein unbeholfen wirkender Junge und zwei attraktive Frauen. Alle hatten die typischen weiten Polohemden an. Schwarz, die in schwarzen Hosen steckten. Außerdem trugen sie schwarze Hüte. Alle hatten grüne Schürzen an, auf denen in weiß das Starbucks-Symbol prangte, eine Meerjungfrau. Eine der Baristas trug ein Namensschild, das sie als „Cynthia“ auswies. Sie war eine große Frau in den Zwanzigern. Sie hatte ihr schwarzes Haar kurz geschnitten, ein wenig wie ein Punk. Sowohl ihre Nase als auch ihre rechte Augenbraue waren gepierct und trugen goldene Ringe. Ihre dunklen Augen, ihre Frisur und die Piercings verliehen ihr eine gewisse animalische Wildheit. Mary war ein wenig kleiner als Cynthia. Sie hatte langes rotbraunes Haar, das sie in einem Pferdeschwanz trug. Ihr herzförmiges Gesicht war von Sommersprossen übersät. Sie war vielleicht neunzehn oder zwanzig Jahre alt und hatte ein wunderschönes Lächeln mit Grübchen.

Ich stellte mich hinter einer süßen Zwanzigjährigen in die Schlange. Welliges brünettes Haar fiel ihr auf ihre Schultern. Meine Augen wanderten an ihrem Rücken nach unten. Ich starrte auf ihren Arsch, der in einem Jeansrock steckte. Lange braune Beine schauten unter dem Rock heraus. Ich starrte erneut auf ihren Knackarsch und hatte das Gefühl, dass ich ihn anfassen musste. Mein Schwanz wurde hart.

Ich nahm meinen ganzen Mut zusammen und krächzte: „Hi.“

Die Brünette drehte sich zu mir um und lächelte höflich, dann drehte sie sich wieder zurück.

Ich schaffe das, sagte ich mir. Du bist ein neuer Mensch. Wiedergeboren, Ich räusperte mich. „Hi, ich bin Mark. Wie heißt du?“

Diesmal war das Lächeln der Brünetten viel freundlicher. „Vivian Anders“, sagte sie. Ihre Stimme klang ein wenig rauchig und temperamentvoll.

Es würde funktionieren. „Was für eine Farbe hat dein Höschen?“

Vivian zwinkerte, sie war überrascht. „Weiß mit rosa Tupfen.“ Ihr Gesicht rötete sich. „Warum habe ich das gesagt?“ flüsterte sie beschämt.

„Ist in Ordnung“, sagte ich. Ich grinste. Es funktionierte. „Du möchtest, dass es mir gut geht, nicht wahr? Nichts macht dich glücklicher als wenn es mir gut geht.“

Sie nickte. Ihre Verlegenheit verflog. Ihr Lächeln wuchs. „Was kann ich denn für dich tun, Mark?“

„Darf ich mal um Aufmerksamkeit bitten?“ rief ich laut. Der ganze Laden wandte sich mir zu. „Der Coffee-Shop ist jetzt geschlossen. Alle außer den Angestellten und Vivian hier müssen jetzt den Laden verlassen. Ihr Angestellten, schließt bitte den Laden ab und lasst die Rollläden herunter.“

Es gab ein gewissen Grummeln und einige Leute schien verwirrt zu sein, als sie den Laden verließen. Sie fragten sich, warum sie eigentlich auf irgend so einen Dahergelaufenen hörten. Die Angestellten schien noch verwirrter zu sein, als sie den Laden schlossen und die Rollläden herunter ließen. „Wer bist du?“ fragte mich der männliche Barista, auf dessen Namensschild „Ethan“ stand.

„Mark“, sagte ich. „Und wir werden jetzt eine Party haben.“ Cynthia lächelte mich schelmisch an, Mary lächelte nervös und Vivian hüpfte vor Aufregung auf ihren Füßen herum. Sie wollte mich wirklich gerne befriedigen.

Als der Laden verschlossen war, sammelte ich alle um mich herum. Ich gab Ethan mein Smartphone. „Du wirst das jetzt aufnehmen“, sagte ich ihm. „Du wirst nicht reden, kein Geräusch machen oder im Weg stehe. Du wirst nur filmen. Du wirst nicht erregt oder geil sein, okay?“

Ethan nickte. Seine Augenbrauen zogen sich verwirrt zusammen. Aber er nahm das Smartphone und er sagte kein Wort. Ich drehte mich zu den Damen um und lächelte sie an. „Vivian, Mary und Cynthia, von jetzt an macht euch nicht glücklicher als mich zu befriedigen.“

„Was würde dich denn befriedigen, Mark?“ schnurrte Cynthia und sie leckte ihre Lippen. Sie war ganz sicher ein wildes Mädchen.

„Wie wäre es denn, wenn ihr hübschen Damen mal eure Sachen auszieht“, antwortete ich. „Zeigt mir mal eure Körper.“

Cynthia lachte schelmisch, öffnete ihre Schürze und zog schnell ihr Top aus. Sie zeigte ihre blassen Brüste in einem schwarzen BH. Sie hatte eine Tätowierung, einen springenden Tiger, die von ihrer linken Brust über ihren Bauch bis zu ihrem Höschen reichte. Mary wurde rot und zog ebenfalls ihr schwarzes Polohemd über den Kopf. Sie hatte kleine Brüste, die von einem einfachen weißen BH gehalten wurden. Vivians Kapuzenpullover und ihr Shirt lagen schon auf dem Boden und sie griff nach hinten, um ihren weißen BH aufzumachen. Ihre großen Titten drängten gegen das Material und warteten darauf, endlich freigelassen zu werden. Mein Schwanz war schmerzhaft hart in meiner Hose. Das passierte wirklich! Ich war drauf und dran, meine Jungfernschaft an drei heiße Mädchen zu verlieren, die ich eben erst getroffen hatte!

Mary kickte ihre Schuhe weg und schob ihre Hose nach unten. Ihr Höschen war ebenso wie ihr BH einfach und weiß. Ich schaute zu Cynthia und sah mein erstes echtes Paar Titten. Sie waren fest und drall, eine richtig schöne Hand voll. Wo sie jetzt keinen BH mehr trug, konnte ich sehen, dass der Schwanz des Tigers sich um die Unterseite ihrer Brust drehte und direkt oberhalb ihrer Brustwarze endete. Sie knöpfte ihre Hose auf und schüttelte sie mit einer sexy Bewegung von ihren Hüften. Darunter trug sie einen schwarzen sehr kleinen String. Ich sah jetzt, dass der Tiger unterhalb ihrer Taille weiterging und um ihren Körper herum, bis er auf ihrer rechten Arschbacke endete. Sie zog sich den String aus und wirbelte ihn um ihren Finger. Dann warf sie ihn in meine Richtung. Cynthia legte ihre Hände auf die Hüften und starrte mich mit einem lusterfüllten Blick an.

Ihre Muschi war wunderschön. Ganz rasiert. Rote Lippen waren leicht gespreizt und verhießen eine warme und nasse Tiefe. In meinem Hinterkopf hörte ich eine leise Stimme, die mir sagte, dass das hier falsch war. Ich ignorierte sie. Ich war ein neuer Mann. Ich musste mich nicht schuldig fühlen. Mein Schwanz tat mir weh. Er wollte in ihre saftige Tiefe eintauchen. Vivians Titten waren jetzt frei. Sie waren genauso gebräunt wie der Rest ihres Körpers, bis auf zwei winzige Dreiecke über ihren dunklen Nippeln. Ihre Brüste waren groß und voll, definitiv C-Körbchen. Ihr Höschen war weiß und hatte tatsächlich rosafarbene Flecken. Vivian stieg aus ihrem Höschen heraus und zeigte mir ihren teilrasierten brünetten Busch und ihre weißen Linien, die ihr Bikini-Unterteil verursacht hatte. Mary fummelte an ihrem BH-Verschluss herum, ihr Gesicht war beinahe so rot wie ihr Haar. Schließlich hatte sie ihn offen und sie schob schüchtern die Träger von ihren Schultern. Sie zeigte mir ihre kleinen Brüste, die auch mit Sommersprossen bedeckt waren und ihre rosafarbenen festen Nippel.

Ich lächelte sie an. „Sehr hübsche Titten, Mary!“

Sie lächelte zurück. „Danke.“ Sie gewann an Selbstvertrauen. Sie stellte sich gerade hin und ihre festen Brüste wurden dadurch nach vorne geschoben. Ihre Finger glitten in ihr weißes Höschen und sie zog es herunter. Ihre Muschi wurde von hellem rotbraunem und sehr lockigem Haar verdeckt.

Ich zog mir mein Hemd aus und ließ dann auch schnell meine Hose und meine Unterwäsche fallen. Cynthia leckte ihre Lippen, während sie auf meinen Schwanz starrte, eine hitzige Füchsin. Ich starrte sie alle an. Cynthia war die selbstbewussteste und Mary die schüchternste. Alle drei waren prachtvoll. Alle würden mir gehören.

„Ihr seid alle drei einfach nur wunderschön“, sagte ich. Mary kicherte und irgendwie wurde Cynthias Lächeln immer verruchter. „Dreht euch für mich um. Lasst mich eure Ärsche sehen.“ Drei wunderschöne Ärsche wurden mir hingestreckt. Vivians war gebräunt und stramm, Cynthias war schmal und tätowiert und Marys war runder und voller. „Beugt euch nach vorne. Ladies.“ Sie beugten sich nach vorne. Cynthias Schamlippen glänzten wegen ihrer Säfte und ein goldener Ring war durch die Mitte ihrer Schamlippen gestochen. Vivians brünettes Schamhaar war von ihrer Feuchtigkeit bedeckt. Ihre Lippen hatten sich geteilt und ihre saftige Tiefe war sichtbar. Marys rotbraunes Muschihaar war um ihre Muschi herum etwas dünner. Ihre Schamlippen waren geschlossen und ihr Kitzler sah rosarot dazwischen hervor. Sie waren alle nicht die perfekten Schlampen, die man aus Pornofilmen kennt, aber sie waren echt. Echte nackte Mädchen vor mir.

„Mache ich dich glücklich?“ raunte Vivian mit ihrer rauchigen Stimme. Sie schaute mich über die Schulter an und wackelte mit ihrem Hintern.

„Machen wir dich glücklich?“ fragte Mary. Sie hatte leichten Zweifel in ihrer Stimme. „Machen wir dich glücklich?“

Ich griff nach vorne und rieb Marys Arsch. Ich kniff leicht in ihr weiches Fleisch. „Ihr macht mich alle drei sehr glücklich.“ Marys Gesicht zeigte Erleichterung. Ihr Lächeln wurde tiefer. Sie war meine Favoritin, merkte ich, als ich ihr in den Arsch kniff. „Sehr glücklich.“

Ich wollte die anderen Mädchen nicht vernachlässigen, also streichelte ich Vivians Arsch und tauchte mit meinen Finger in Richtung auf ihre Muschi. Dann ging ich hinüber zu Cynthias weichem Arsch und verfolgte das Tiger-Tatoo über ihre Arschbacke. „Du bist ein verdorbenes Mädchen, nicht wahr, Cynthia?“ fragte ich und fasste ihren Muschi-Ring an und zupfte vorsichtig daran.

Sie keuchte. „Ich bin so versaut“, schnurrte Cynthia. „Ich bin ein richtig versautes und verdorbenes Mädchen.“

„Ich möchte wetten, dass du schon einmal eine andere Frau gefickt hast?“

Sie leckte ihre Lippen. „Ich lecke beinahe so gerne Mösen wie ich Schwänze lutsche!“

Ich griff nach Vivians Arm und führte sie zu einem Stuhl, der in der Nähe stand. Dann fragte ich Cynthia: „Ich möchte wetten, dass du schon immer mal Marys enge Muschi lecken wolltest?“

Cynthia schaute Mary an, die nervös lachte und dem hungrigen Blick ihrer Kollegin auswich. „Ich habe meinen Kitzler im Kühlhaus gestreichelt und an dieses süße Gesicht zwischen meinen Beinen gedacht.“

Ich setzte mich hin und drückte Vivian auf die Knie vor mir. Cynthia ging mit einem hungrigen Blick auf Mary zu, die unwillkürlich einen Schritt zurück machte und zu mir schaute. „Wird dich das glücklich machen, Mark?“ fragte sie nervös.

„Ich möchte gerne sehen, wie dich die Schlampe fertig macht, Mary!“ stöhnte ich, während Vivians Hand langsam mit festem Griff meinen Schwanz wichste. Ich sah nach unten, um Vivians gebräuntes Gesicht zu sehen, das zu mir hoch schaute. Ihre Lippen waren feucht, ihre Augen leuchteten vor Lust. Ihre Zunge kam heraus und fuhr über meine Eichel. Mein Schwanz zuckte vor Vergnügen. Ihre Zunge hinterließ feuchte Spuren, während sie an meinem Schaft nach oben leckte. Sie endete an meiner Eichel und lutschte kurz. Dann fing sie wieder unten an. Ihre Finger bedeckten sanft meine Eier und rollten sich vorsichtig.

Mary zitterte, als Cynthia vor ihr stand. Sie hatte ganz klar Angst vor der Idee, eine Frau zu ficken, wollte mich aber gerne zufrieden stellen und glücklich machen. Cynthia griff nach vorne und fuhr mit lackierten Fingernägeln über ihre rechte Brust. Sie zog eine Linie bis zu ihrem Nippel und rieb und drückte ihn zwischen ihren Fingern. Mary keuchte und zuckte. Sie leckte ihre Lippen.

„Siehst du, ist gar nicht schlimm“, schnurrte Cynthia. Ihre andere Hand griff Mary an der Hüfte und zog sie an sich heran. Ihre Nippel rieben sich aneinander. „Ich habe dich so gerne ficken wollen!“ zischte Cynthia zwischen Küssen auf Marys Hals. Sie fuhr mit ihrer Zunge zu Marys Ohr. „Seit ich dich mal beim Umziehen gesehen habe. Rothaarige machen mich nass. Ich musste es mir im Kühlhaus besorgen. Ich habe einfach meine Hand in mein Höschen gesteckt und mich gerieben. Es ist mir sehr hart gekommen!“

Vivians nasser Mund umschloss meinen Schwanz jetzt ganz. Sie lutschte feste. Elektrizität durchfloss meinen Körper. Es war erstaunlich. Masturbation wurde flach im Vergleich zu einem heißen Mädchen, das meinen Schwanz lutschte. Ihre Lippen bewegten sich auf und ab und ihre Zunge schlängelte sich um meine Eichel. Cynthia rieb sich an Mary. Sie küsste sich an ihrem Kiefer bis zu ihrem Mund. Aggressiv küsste sie Mary und schob ihr ihre Zunge in den Mund. Ihre Hände drückten ihren Arsch und zog sie dichter an sich heran. Marys Arme schlangen sich um Cynthia und hielten sie fest während des französischen Kusses. Beide Mädchen stöhnten sich an.

Cynthia drückte Mary nach hinten, bis sie auf der Kante eines Tisches saß. Mary atmete schwer, ihr ganzer Körper war gerötet. Sie hatte die Augen geschlossen. Cynthia küsste ihren Hals und biss leicht zu. Hände griffen nach Marys Brüsten, sie drückten und streichelten. Finger spielten mit ihren harten Nippeln., während Cynthia tiefer und tiefer küsste. Sie leckte Marys linken Nippel und lutschte daran. Sie spielte mit ihrer Zunge an dem harten Knöpfchen. Cynthias rechte Hand fuhr an Marys Bauch nach unten und verschwand zwischen ihren Schenkeln. Mary keuchte, als Cynthia mit ihrer Muschi spielte. Ihr ganzer Körper zitterte vor Lust.

Cynthia nahm ihre Hand wieder weg. Ihre Finger glänzten von Marys Säften. Sie schmierte die Säfte auf Marys linken Nippel und dann lutschte sie ihn kraftvoll. Ihre Hand ging zurück zu ihrer Muschi. Sie winkelte die Finger an und Mary zuckte wieder, als die Finger in sie eindrangen. Mary stöhnte schrill. Sie schrie jedes Mal auf, wenn Cynthias Finger in ihre heiße Muschi eindrangen. Cynthia zog ihre klebrigen Finger aus Marys Muschi heraus und hielt sie vor Marys Lippen. „Du schmeckst so gut!“ stöhnte Cynthia. „Probier mal!“

Marys Zunge kam zögernd heraus. Sie nahm ihren Geschmack von Cynthias Finger auf. „Stimmt“, flüsterte sie erstaunt. Sie lächelte und lutschte Cynthias Finger in ihren Mund. Sie genoss ihren eigenen Geschmack.

Vivian lutschte an meinem harten Schwanz und bewegte ihren Kopf auf und ab. Es fühlte sich warm und nass und einfach wundervoll an. Ich streichelte ihr seidiges Haar und stöhnte. Ich sah Cynthia sich vor Mary auf den Boden knien. Sie spreizte Marys weiße Beine ganz weit und legte ihr krauses rotes Schamhaar frei. Es war ganz feucht von ihren Säften. Marys Augen flogen auf und sie drückte ihren Rücken durch, als Cynthia lautstark anfing, ihr die Fotze zu lecken. Cynthias Zunge leckte, schmeckte ihre Muschi, sie streichelte ihre Schamlippen und den Kitzler. Finger fingen an, Mary zu ficken, die aus vollem Hals schrie: „Das ist so gut! Oh mein Gott, ist das gut! Leck mich! Oh Gott, ich komme! Oh Gott!“

Marys Zehen rollten sich ein und ihr Körper wurde ganz steif. Ihre Hand griffen nach Cynthias Kopf und sie kam mit einem lauten Schrei. Sie war so wunderschön! Mein Schwanz explodierte in Vivians Mund, mehrere Spritzer Sperma füllten ihren Mund. Ich atmete schwer und schaute auf Vivian herunter, die mich von unten her anlächelte. Sperma glänzte auf ihren Lippen.

Sie schluckte meine Ladung. „War das gut, Mark?“ fragte sie. „Habe ich dich glücklich gemacht?“ Ich nickte, ich war nach meinem ersten Blowjob einfach noch zu überwältigt und konnte nicht reden. Sie lächelte und fing an, meinen Schwanz sauber zu machen.

Mary war einmal gekommen, aber Cynthia machte nicht den Anschein, dass sie aufhören wollte. Sie hatte beide Arme um Marys Schenkel geschlungen und drückte ihren Mund fest gegen ihre Muschi. Sie fickte die Rothaarige mit ihrer Zunge. Mary ließ einen endlosen Strom von „Mein Gott! Leck mich! Oh mein Gott!“ los. Mein Schwanz wurde wieder hart, während ich sah, wie es Mary immer wieder aufs Neue kam. Sie fiel kraftlos auf den Tisch zurück. Cynthia ließ von ihr ab und stand auf. Ihr Gesicht war mit Muschisaft verschmiert und ihre Oberschenkel zeigten Spuren von ihrem eigenen Saft.

„Du hast mich glücklich gemacht, Mary. Lässt du dir gerne die Muschi auslecken?“ fragte ich.

Atemlos nickte sie. „Ich hatte keine Ahnung, dass eine Frau mich derartig hart kommen lassen könnte.“

„Du hattest keine Ahnung?“ fragte ich. „Du hast doch immer schon Frauen geliebt, ihre festen Brüste, ihre harten Nippel, runden Ärsche und saftigen Fotzen. Das einzige, was du noch lieber hast als eine Frau zu ficken, ist mich zu ficken.“

Mary schaute Cynthias Körper an. Dann dämmerte es ihr langsam. „Du bist so wunderschön, Cynthia. Wie kann es nur sein, dass mir das bisher noch nicht aufgefallen ist?“

„Du könntest ihr doch den Gefallen erwidern, Mary“, sagte ich. „Leck ihr die Muschi. Mach sie fertig, schau mal nach, wie nass sie ist.“

„Ich bin so nass für dich Baby“, schnurrte Cynthia. Ihre Finger spielten mit ihrem Kitzler und sie rieb ihre rasierte Muschi. „Komm und probier mal meinen Honig!“

Mein Schwanz war schon wieder hart und ich war bereit für die nächste Runde. Ich schaute zu Vivian nach unten, die immer noch an meinem Schwanz leckte und sagte: „Komm, setz dich auf meinen Schwanz, Vivian.“

„Oh Süßer, ich dachte schon, dass du mich nie fragen würdest“, stöhnte Vivian mit dieser sexy Stimme. Sie stand auf und ihre schweren Brüste und harten Nippel schwebten vor mir, als sie mich bestieg. Meine Hand griff nach einer und fühlte die feste Kugel, während ich mein Gesicht zwischen den Titten vergrub. Die harten Nippel rieben sich an meinen Wangen. Ihre Hand war an meinem Schwanz und sie lenkte ihn auf ihre warme Höhle zu. Ich stöhnte, als die nassen Lippen ihrer Muschi meine Eichel umschlossen und sich langsam auf meinen Schwanz heruntersenkten.

„Jesus!“ stöhnte ich. Ich war in einer Frau! Es fühlte sich fantastisch an. Eine warme enge Nässe umschloss mich. Die Wände ihrer Muschi waren samtig und ganz weich. Das war zu viel für mich. Ich biss ihr in den Nippel, als es mir in ihr kam.

„Verdammt ja!“ schrie Vivian. „Spritz mir deinen Saft in die Fotze. Das ist so schön warm!“ Ihre Hüften hoben und senkten sich und sie rotierte um meinen noch immer harten Schwanz. Es war so nass in ihr. Ich griff nach ihrem Arsch und presste ihre Arschbacken zusammen. Ich warf vor Lust meinen Kopf in den Nacken. Ich wurde nicht weich, nachdem ich gekommen war! Ihre warme Fotze hielt mich steif.

Ich schaute nach links und sah Cynthia an der Tischkante sitzen. Ihre Beine waren weit gespreizt und sie zupfte sich mit den Fingern an ihren Nippeln. Mary kniete vor ihr. Ihr Gesicht war nur Zentimeter von Cynthias nasser Fotze entfernt. Marys Arsch war auf mich gerichtet und ich konnte gerade so eben ein wenig von ihrem roten Haar zwischen ihren Beinen sehen. Vivian drückte sich jetzt fest an mich. Sie fickte mich hart und zischte, wie großartig sich mein Schwanz in ihr anfühlte und wie glücklich sie war, mich zu ficken.

„Fang damit an, dass du mir den Schlitz leckst“, instruierte Cynthia Mary. „Dann schleckst du kurz über meinen Kitzler und dann fängst du wieder von vorne an.“ Marys Kopf fand sein Ziel und Cynthia stöhnte. Sie warf ihren Kopf zurück und sie schloss vor Lust ihre Augen. „Wie schmecke ich, Baby?“

Mary kicherte. „Süß und nuttig.“ Dann tauchte sie wieder ein.

„Uuuhhh“, stöhnte Cynthia. „Das liegt daran, dass ich so eine verdorbene Nutte bin. Stoß mir deine Zunge in die Muschi. Ganz tief. Genau! Genau so!“

Vivian fing an, mit ihren Hüften Drehbewegungen zu machen. Sie fickte mich jetzt langsamer. „Oh Gott, das ist toll, Nutte!“ flüsterte ich ihr ins Ohr.

Sie lehnte sich ein wenig zurück. Ihre Arme griffen meine Schultern. Ihr Gesicht war lustverzerrt. „Magst du es? Magst du meine versaute Fotze auf deinem Schwanz?“

„Ich mag das nicht nur“, sagte ich. „Ich liebe es!“ Vivian lächelte und beugte sich zu mir herunter. Sie küsste meinen Mund. Ihre Zunge spielte mit meiner. Ich war im Himmel.

Meine Finger rutschten in Vivians Arschkerbe und berührten ihr zusammengezogenes Arschloch. Sie stöhnte in meinen Mund. Ich steckte ihr einen Finger in ihr Arschloch und sie keuchte und hörte überrascht auf, mich zu ficken. „Hör nicht auf“, zischte ich und lutschte einen dicken Nippel in meinen Mund. Sie fing wieder an, mich zu ficken. Leichte Stöße, die mich tief in ihrer Muschi behielten.

„Du kannst ruhig auch deine Finger benutzen“, sagte Cynthia zu Mary. „Uuuhh, ja!“ keuchte sie. „Das ist schön, wenn du mir in den Kitzler kneifst.“

Ein tiefes Stöhnen kam von Vivian. Ihre Hüften beschleunigten sich. „Ich komme gleich! Mir kommt’s! Oh Gott, dein großer Schwanz macht mich fertig!“ Ihre Muschi zog sich zusammen und ihr Körper zuckte in meinen Armen. Es fühlte sich so gut an! Ich war ganz dicht dran. Dann stöhnte ich, als ich meine zweite Ladung in Vivians warme Tiefen schoss. Sie fiel auf mich und küsste mich leicht. Wir gaben uns den Nachwehen unserer Orgasmen hin und schauten bei Marys Lesbenausbildung zu.

„Deine Zunge ist so geschmeidig“, stöhnte Cynthia. Marys Kopf bewegte sich von der einen Seite zur anderen. Ihre Lippen waren an Cynthias Fotze festgesaugt. „Steck mir ein paar Finger rein, Baby!“

Mary fing an, Cynthias Kitzler zu lecken, als sie ihr langsam zwei Finger in die Fotze schob. Cynthia keuchte und ließ ihre Hüften kreisen, während Mary sie mit den Fingern fickte. „So gottverdammt gut!“ zischte Cynthia. „Jetzt winkle deine Finger an. Ja, genau da! Da musst du mich reiben, du Nutte! Das ist mein G-Punkt!“ Cynthia drückte ihren Rücken vor Lust durch. Ihre Brüste hoben und senkten sich und eine Hand griff in Marys rotbraunes Haar. Sie zog Mary fester an ihren Kitzler. „Oh Gott! Gleich kommt es mir! Verdammt!“ Ihr Körper wurde steif, schüttelte sich dann zweimal und dann fiel sie auf den Tisch zurück. „Verdammt nochmal. Dieses Mädchen lernt sehr schnell! Sie ist eine erstklassige Fotzenleckerin!“

Mary grinste mich an. Ihr Gesicht war mit Saft bedeckt. Hinter ihr waren Cynthias Beine noch immer weit gespreizt, ihre Muschi stand weit offen und ihr Saft bedeckte ihre Oberschenkel. „Hat es dir gefallen?“ fragte ich Mary.

Sie nickte. „Das war toll!“ Ihre Zunge leckte über ihre roten Lippen und nahm Cynthias Saft auf.

Ich winkte sie zu mir. Sie stand auf, ihre kleinen Brüste wackelten leicht, und dann schlenderte sie zu mir und Vivian herüber. „Gib mir einen Kuss.“ Lächelnd beugte sie sich vor und küsste mich leicht. Ich schmeckte das herbe Aroma von Cynthias Saft. „Lass Vivian auch mal probieren.“ Mary drehte sich und die beiden Mädchen küssten sich vor mir. Ihre Zungen spielten miteinander. Ich steckte meine Hand zwischen Marys Schenkel und schob ihr zwei Finger in die Fotze. Sie stöhnte in Vivian hinein. Ich nahm meine beiden klebrigen Finger an meinen Mund und kostete ihren Saft. Er war viel süßer als der von Cynthia und hatte eine kleine scharfe Note. Ich hielt den beiden Mädchen meine Finger hin, die daraufhin ihren Kuss abbrachen und den Rest des Saftes von meinen Fingern leckten.

Auf dem Tisch hatte sich Cynthia wieder erholt. Sie richtete sich leicht auf und schaute mich gierig an. Eine Hand spielte an ihrem Kitzler. Mein Schwanz wurde in Vivians Möse wieder hart. Vivian bewegte ihre Hüften und ließ ihre Muschi meinen hart werdenden Schwanz streicheln. „Willst du nochmal, Süßer?“ fragte die rauchige Stimme.

„Ja“, sagte ich. „Aber die anderen Damen verdienen auch meine Aufmerksamkeit.“ Vivian schmollte und drückte mit ihrer Muschi meinen harten Schwanz zusammen. Mary schaute mich erwartungsvoll an und Cynthias Augen glühten vor Lust. „Mary, du könntest doch deine gerade eben erworbenen neuen Fähigkeiten mal anwenden. Vivians Fotze ist voll von meinem Saft. Sie muss sauber gemacht werden.“

Vivian erhob sich seufzend von mir. Mein Schwanz flutschte aus ihrer Fotze. Er war total mit unseren gemischten Säften bedeckt. Mary führte sie zu einem Tisch, der in der Nähe stand und kniete sich vor sie. Mein weißes Sperma lief ihr aus der Möse und sammelte sich auf dem Tisch. Marys Zunge glitt über die Innenseiten ihrer Oberschenkel und sie sammelte das Sperma und ihre Fotzensäfte auf. Dann spreizte sie Vivians Fotze mit den Fingern und ihre Zunge tauchte ein.

Ich ging zu Cynthia hinüber, die immer noch einladend ihre Muschi rieb. Ich nahm sie beim Arm und zog sie hart auf die Füße. Dann drückte ich sie gegen einen Pfeiler. Ihr tätowierter Arsch zeigte auf mich und sie grinste mich über die Schulter an. Sie wackelte einladend mit ihrem Hintern. Ich kniff ihr in eine Arschbacke und schlug dann mit der flachen Hand zu.

„Ich bin so verdorben gewesen“, stöhnte Cynthia. „Ich muss unbedingt bestraft werden.“

Ich schlug ihr wieder auf den Arsch. „Was für unartige Sachen hast du denn gemacht?“

„Ohh“, machte Cynthia, als ich sie zum dritten Mal schlug. Ihr weißer Arsch wurde rot. „Ich habe eben eine Kollegin gefickt. Im Laden! Ich bin so eine dreckige Hure!“

„Ich weiß genau, wie man ein böses Mädchen bestrafen muss!“ zischte ich in ihr Ohr. Mein Schwanz drückte gegen ihren weichen Arsch. Ich spreizte ihre Arschbacken und drückte meine Eichel gegen ihr krauses Arschloch.

„Oh ja!“ stöhnte Cynthia. „Fick meinen Arsch! Das ist eine tolle Strafe!“

Ich drückte meinen Schwanz gegen sie und drang langsam in ihren engen warmen Arsch ein. Mein Schwanz war immer noch mit Vivians Saft bedeckt und war deswegen ausreichend geschmiert. Ich stöhnte, als mein Schwanz in ihrem Arsch verschwand. Er versank ganz leicht und ich war mir sicher, dass Cynthia nicht zum ersten Mal in den Arsch gefickt wurde. Ich drückte nach vorne, bis ich ihre Arschbacken auf meinem Schoß spürte. Es war heiß und eng und fühlte sich ganz anders an als Vivians nasse Muschi. Cynthia wurde hart gegen die Säule gedrückt, während ich sie fickte. Mit einer Hand rieb sie ihre Muschi und ihren Kitzler und mit dem anderen Arm hatte sie die Säule umschlungen. Ich griff mit einer Hand nach ihrer Hüfte. Mit der anderen griff ich um sie herum und drehte ihren Nippel.

„Ja, ja, ja“, sang Cynthia laut. „Dreh meinen Nippel ganz fest. Ich bin so böse gewesen!“

Ich fickte sie heftiger und stöhnte in ihr Ohr. Es fühlte sich toll an in ihrem Arsch. Heiß und samtig eng. Echt toll. In unserer Nähe stöhnte Vivian laut, während Mary ihr mit großem Appetit die Fotze ausleckte. Ich sah zu dem Pärchen hinüber. Vivians große Brüste schwangen, während ihr Körper sich unter Marys Zungenarbeit bewegte. Marys Arme waren fest um Vivians Hüfte geschlungen. Sie hatte ihre Arschbacken in der Hand. Mary war wunderschön.

„Das ist so geil!“ stöhnte ich in Cynthias Ohr, während ich ihr den Arsch fickte. „Schau dir die beiden an!“

Cynthia drehte den Kopf. „Gottverdammt ja. Aber dein Schwanz in meinem Arsch ist auch geil. Fick mich fester!“

Ich ließ ihre Titte los und nahm beide Hände an ihre Hüften. Dann fickte ich sie so fest wie ich konnte. Sie stöhnte und schrie und es kam ihr hart und lang. Eine weiche Brust streifte an meinem Arm vorbei und Mary stand auf meiner rechten Seite. Sie streichelte meine Hüfte mit ihrer Hand. Ihr ganzes Gesicht war mit Vivians Saft bedeckt. Sie griff nach meinem Kopf, zog mich zu ihren Lippen herunter und küsste mich. Vivians Saft schmeckte streng.

„Nicht aufhören“, bettelte Cynthia. Ich erkennte, dass ich aufgehört hatte, sie zu ficken, als Mary mich küsste. „Ich bin ganz nahe am nächsten Orgasmus.“

Mary lächelte. „Fick der Nutte den Arsch!“ Dann griff sie mit beiden Händen nach Cynthias Gesicht und küsste sie hart. Cynthia schmeckte auch Vivians Saft. In ganz kurzer Zeit hatte sich Mary von einem ganz schüchternen Mädchen in eine abenteuerlustige Sex-Füchsin verwandelt.

Vivian kam zu meiner linken Seite. Ihre dicken Brüste drückten sich gegen mich, als sie ihren Körper an mich drückte. Die Nässe ihrer Fotze drückte sich an meine Hüfte und sie rieb ihren Kitzler in einem Fickrhythmus an mir.

„Hat Mary das gut gemacht?“ fragte ich sie, nachdem ich ihre süßen Lippen geküsst hatte.

Vivian schnurrte in mein Ohr: „Sie hat eine begnadete Zunge!“

Cynthia stöhnte immer wieder und gab auch einen Kommentar: „Ja… sie lernt schnell. Oh Scheiße!“ Marys Hand fuhr an Cynthias Bauch nach unten und spielte mit ihrer Fotze, während sie sich gleichzeitig nach unten beugte und Cynthias rechten Nippel in den Mund nahm. „Oh das ist gut, Baby! Du darfst ruhig auch beißen! Oh ja! Genau so!“

„Nimm es, du dreckige Nutte!“ stöhnte ich in Cynthias Ohr und ich spritzte tief in ihren Arsch.

„Oh Gott!“ schrie Cynthia. „Es kommt mir schon wieder. Ich kann gar nicht mehr aufhören zu kommen! Dein Saft ist in meinem Arsch! Komm, spritz in meinen verdorbenen Arsch!“

Ich fickte sie noch zweimal und spritzte ihr den Rest meines Spermas in den Arsch. Ich küsste Cynthias Wange. Vivian stöhnte in mein Ohr, als sie durch die Reibung an meiner Hüfte auch wieder kam. Mary lutschte Cynthias Saft von ihren Fingern und lächelte mich nett an. Mein Schwanz zuckte in Cynthias Arsch. Mary war mit Abstand die hübscheste der drei. Ich zog mich aus dem engen Arsch zurück. Cynthia keuchte, als mein Schwanz aus ihrem Arsch heraus rutschte. Ein kleiner Bach Saft folgte ihm.

„Bleib genau so, Cynthia“, wies ich sie an. „Ich will mir deinen tollen Arsch anschauen.“ Cynthia grinste mich an und wackelte mit ihrem Hintern. „Vivian geh auf die Knie und lutsche mir den Schwanz sauber wie ein braves Mädchen.“

„Mmmm, gerne!“ Sie kniete sich hin und fing an, meinen Schwanz abzulecken. Ich griff nach Mary und zog sie an mich. Ich küsste sie leidenschaftlich, während Vivian anfing, mir den Schwanz regelrecht zu lutschen. Ich zog Mary ganz an meine Seite, bis sich ihre Muschi an meiner Hüfte rieb. Meine rechte Hand rutschte an ihrem Rücken nach unten und knetete ihren runden Arsch.

„Alles sauber!“ sagte Vivian um meinen Schwanz herum.

„Vivian, du hast heute entdeckt, dass du eine Lesbe bist. Der einzige Schwanz, den du überhaupt anfassen möchtest, ist meiner. Das Einzige, was du lieber machst als eine Frau zu ficken, ist mich zu ficken.“

Vivian grinste und saugte meine Eichel in den Mund.

„Cynthias Arsch sieht ein bisschen schmutzig aus“, sagte ich. „Du könntest sie auch sauber machen.“

Vivian ließ meinen Schwanz aus ihrem Mund fallen und wandte sich Cynthias Arsch zu. Mein Saft war an Cynthias Schenkeln herunter gelaufen. Vivians Zunge leckte an Cynthias Bein nach oben und kam in ihrer Arschkerbe an. Cynthia schnurrte. „Wenn du ihren Arsch sauber gemacht hast, solltet ihr euch gegenseitig ficken. Bringt euch immer wieder zum Orgasmus.“

Vivians Antwort wurde durch Cynthias Arsch gedämpft. Cynthias stöhnte: „Ich kann es kaum abwarten, an ihren Titten zu lutschen.“

Ich wandte mich zu Mary, mein harter Schwanz rieb an ihrem Bauch. „Du bist meine Favoritin, Mary.“ Sie wurde rot und ich fing ihre Lippen in einem kurzen Kuss ein. „Es hat mich so glücklich gemacht, dich mit Cynthia und mit Vivian zusammen zu sehen.“ Sie lächelte und küsste mich.

Mary nahm meinen Schwanz in die Hand. „Bin jetzt ich dran?“

„Weil du so ein liebes und geduldiges Mädchen gewesen bist, sollst du jetzt deine Belohnung erhalten.“

Ihr Lächeln war so strahlend und wundervoll und ihr Gesicht mit den Sommersprossen und ihre smaragdfarbenen Augen strahlten vor Lust. Wir küssten uns hart, drückten unsere Lippen aufeinander und ließen unsere Zungen tanzen, während sie gleichzeitig vorsichtig meinen Schwanz rieb. Mein Hand ging nach oben und fasste ihre kleine Brust an. Ich rieb ihren harten Nippel, während meine andere Hand weiter ihren Hintern knetete. Der Kuss war warm und süß und ich konnte geradezu ihre Lust auf mich schmecken, genauso wie Vivians Muschi. Ihre Hand streichelte mich schneller und sie fasste fester zu.

Ich kann nicht sagen, wie lange wir uns küssten. Ich vergaß völlig die Zeit, während ich mit dieser wunderschönen Kreatur schmuste. Das Gefühl ihres weichen Arsches und der festen Brust in meiner Hand, die Elektrizität, die ich spürte, weil sie meinen Schwanz anfasste. Ich stöhnte in ihren Mund, drückte ihren Arsch ganz fest und kam auf ihren Fingern. Mein Sperma spritzte auf ihren Bauch und über ihre Hüfte. Sie wichste meinen Schwanz noch ein paar Mal und drückte sich die letzten Tropfen auf den Bauch, bis sie sich zurückzog. Sie lächelte mich kokett an und leckte meinen weißen Saft von ihren Fingern.

„Mmmm, das ist lecker“, stöhnte sie. „Ich liebe den Geschmack von Sperma.“ Ihre Finger nahmen mehr von meinem Saft von ihrem Bauch auf und sie lutschte sie ab.

Ich weiß nicht, ob es die Erotik dieses Moment war oder ob ich mich gerade in diesen zauberhaften Engel verliebte, ich beschloss, Mary mitzunehmen. Sie mein zu machen. Ihr Handjob war so gut gewesen, ich musste ihr den Gefallen erwidern. Ich küsste ihre Lippen, dabei war es mir völlig egal, dass da noch Spuren meines Spermas waren. Dann tauchte meine Hand zwischen ihre Beine. Ich spürte, wie nass sie war. Sie keuchte, als ich ihr meine Finger in die Fotze stieß. An meiner Handfläche spürte ich eine kleine Erhebung und erkannte, dass das ihr Kitzler war.

Ich rieb ihren Kitzler mit meiner Handfläche und fing an, an ihrem Hals zu lutschen und ihn leicht zu beißen. Ich wollte eine Marke hinterlassen, damit die Welt wusste, dass Mary einen neuen Liebhaber hatte. Meine Finger erforschten die warme Nässe und die Seidigkeit ihrer Muschi. Ich hinterließ eine zweite Marke auf ihrer rechten Brust und sie keuchte vor Lust. Meine Lippen gingen zu ihrem harten Nippel und saugten ihn in meinen gierigen Mund. Sie spannte sich in meinen Armen an und schrie dann laut, als es ihr kam. Ihr Körper schüttelte sich und sie überflutete meine Hand mit ihrem Saft.

„Oh Gott!“ zischte sie. „Oh Gott.“

Ich fiel vor ihr auf die Knie und atmete den Duft ihres Geschlechtes ein. Ich starrte auf ihre geschwollenen Schamlippen, die von rotbraunem Haar umkränzt waren. Ich vergrub mein Gesicht in ihrer Schnalle und verehrte ihre Muschi mit meiner Zunge. Der Geschmack ihrer Muschi war süß und gleichzeitig würzig. Meine Zunge fuhr an ihren Schamlippen vorbei und schnalzte über ihren Kitzler, bevor ich sie tief in ihre Muschi schob. Ich fickte sie mit meiner Zunge. Ich versuchte mich an die Dinge zu erinnern, die Cynthia vorher Mary gesagt hatte, wie sie gerne ihre Muschi geküsst, geleckt und ihren Kitzler behandelt haben wollte. Nach Marys Stöhnen zu urteilen, machte ich meine Sache nicht schlecht.

Ihre Finger griffen in mein kurzes Haar und sie zog mich in ihre Fotze. Sie ließ ihre Hüften rotieren. „Oh, das ist so gut, Mark!“ Ihre Stimme wurde immer schriller. „Genau so! Ooohh! Gut! Ich kommeeee!“ Ihr Griff wurde noch fester und frischer Saft lief in meinen Mund. „Oh, danke, Mark!“ keuchte sie. „Danke, das war fantastisch.“

„Ich möchte mit dir 69 machen“, sagte ich.

Sie nickte gierig. Ich legte mich auf den Rücken und sie hockte sich über mein Gesicht. Dann ließ sie ihre behaarte Muschi auf meine Lippen herunter. Ich fing an, sie zu lecken, als sie anfing, meine Eichel zu küssen. Sie gab mir kleine kurze Küsse an der Eichel und an meinem ganzen Schaft und dann umschloss ihr warmer Mund meinen Schwanz. Sie ging immer tiefer, bis sie ihn in ihrer Kehle hatte. Sie war einfach voller Überraschungen. Mary lutschte eine Zeitlang an meiner Eichel und dann ließ sie erneut meinen ganzen Schwanz in ihre Kehle rutschen. Ich kniff ihr in den Kitzler und rollte den harten Knopf zwischen meinen Fingern. Dann leckte ich ihn hart mit meiner Zunge. Ihre Hände massierten vorsichtig meine Eier und entlockten mir meinen Saft. Meine Ladung spritzte in ihren Mund und sie schluckte sie, während ihre Hüften in ihrem eigenen Orgasmus auf meinem Gesicht zuckten.

Atemlos kuschelten wir uns auf dem Boden aneinander, ich lag auf dem Rücken und Mary lag an meiner Seite. Ihre harten Nippel berührten meine Brust. Ich streifte schweißnasses rotbraunes Haar aus ihrem Gesicht. Ihre weichen Lippen pressten sich gegen meine Wange.

„Danke“, murmelte sie in mein Ohr. „Mein Freund hat mich noch nie geleckt.“ Sie erstarrte, ihr Gesicht verzerrte sich vor Scham. „Oh Gott, Mike. Was habe ich getan?“ Tränen schossen in ihre Augen. „Wie konnte ich ihn nur betrügen!“

„Schsch“, beruhigte ich sie und wischte ihr mit dem Finger eine Träne ab. „Mike hat dich nie richtig behandelt. Darum hast du ihn für mich verlassen. Ich bin jetzt dein Freund. Du gehörst mir jetzt für immer, richtig?“

Mary schnüffelte. „Es tut mir leid. Ich war dumm. Du hast recht. Er war immer ein Blödmann. Er hat sich nie darum gekümmert, ob es mir auch kommt und er hat mir nie bei der Hausarbeit geholfen.“ Sie küsste mich. „Jetzt bin ich dein Mädchen.“

Ich nickte. „Du liebst mich aus ganzem Herzen und du würdest nie eifersüchtig werden, wenn du mich mit einer anderen Frau siehst. Du bist glücklich, wenn ich glücklich bin.“

„Natürlich!“ Mary kicherte. „Ich liebe dich. Und an dir ist definitiv genug dran.“ Sie griff meinen Schwanz. „Mmmm, definitiv genug.“

„Ich bin genug Mann für dich“, sagte ich. „Du wirst nie einen anderen Mann begehren, nur andere Frauen. Du darfst so viele andere Frauen anfassen und ficken wie du willst, aber ich bin der einzige Mann für dich.“

Mary küsste mich. Ihr Mund war heiß und voller Leidenschaft. „Warum sollte ich einen anderen Mann haben wollen?“ Sie drückte meinen Schwanz. „Das ist alles an Schwanz, was ich brauche. Er fühlt sich einsam und meine Muschi braucht ein wenig Gesellschaft.“

Ich grinste und küsste sie. Dann rollte ich Mary auf den Rücken. Ihre geschmeidigen Beine schlangen sich um meine Hüften und zogen mich an sie heran. Mein Schwanz stieß gegen ihre Muschi und konnte nicht gleich beim ersten Stoß in sie eindringen. Ihre Hand fuhr nach unten, griff meinen Schwanz und führte ihn in die Öffnung ihrer Fotze. Sie stöhnte leise, als meine Eichel langsam durch ihre Schamlippen fuhr und in ihre seidige und nasse Wärme ihrer Muschi eindrang. Ich starrte in ihre tiefen grünen Augen, als mein Schwanz ganz tief in sie hinein glitt. Sie erwiderte meinen Blick. Es war so, als würden sich unsere Seelen ebenso miteinander verbinden wie unsere Körper.

Ich sah Liebe. Es war nicht wichtig, dass ich ihr gesagt hatte, dass sie mich liebte. Für sie war das auch nicht wichtig. Sie glaubte es und ich konnte diesen Glauben sehen. Sei gehörte mir und darauf kam es an. Ich fing an, sie zu ficken, während wir uns weiter ansahen. Ihre Hände griffen nach meinem Rücken. Ihre Fingernägel gruben sich in meine Haut und ihre Beine klammerten mich. Ihre Hüften bewegten sich im Rhythmus. Es fühlte sich so gut an, in ihr zu sein. So richtig. Ein Traum wurde wahr. Sie würde mich nie zurückweisen, sie würde mich nie hassen oder mich herabsetzen. Ich verliebte mich in sie.

Ich fing an, sie fester zu ficken. Der süße Druck des Fleisches brachte mich näher an meinen Orgasmus. Unsere Körper bewegten sich wie ein einziger. Beide versuchten wir, den anderen zum Kommen zu bringen. Sie stöhnte meinen Namen und ich den ihren. Ihre Fotze war heiß und nass und eng und so gut auf meinem Schwanz. Mary kam als erste, sie schrie meinen Namen heraus. Ich fickte sie jetzt so schnell wie ich konnte und spürte, wie sich meine Eier zusammenzogen. Ich war kurz vor der Explosion. Ein zweiter Orgasmus durchströmte ihre Fotze und dann noch ein dritter. Sie keuchte und schnappte nach Luft, als ich in ihr explodierte.

„Oh, so gut!“ stöhnte sie. „Spritz mich voll! So gut!“

„Ich liebe dich“, flüsterte ich ihr ins Ohr. Unsere Körper waren fest verschlungen.

Ich spürte Nässe auf ihren Wangen, als sie vor Freude weinte. „Ich liebe dich auch!“ keuchte sie, von Emotionen überwältigt.

Ich küsste ihr die Tränen weg und nahm sie in meinen Arm. Ich brauchte jetzt wirklich eine kleine Pause, obwohl ich ein schier unglaubliches Stehvermögen hatte. Ich atmete ihren Duft ein: Kräuterseife und Schweiß und das würzige Aroma ihrer Fotze. Ich fühlte mich sicher und warm und ein glückliches Gefühl verbreitete sich in mir, während wir einander festhielten. Ich knabberte leicht an ihrem Hals und sie stöhnte. Keuchen und Stöhnen erfüllte den Laden und mit fiel ein, dass ich ja Cynthia und Vivian gesagt hatte, dass sie sich ficken sollten. Ich stütze mich auf meine Ellbogen und sah mich um. Sie lagen in unserer Nähe auf dem Boden und hatten ihre Beine wie Scheren ineinander geschlungen. Ihre Fotzen küssten sich. Sie bewegten beide lustvoll ihre Hüften.

„Die beiden sehen so glücklich und wunderschön zusammen aus“, flüsterte Mary mir ins Ohr. Mir kam eine Idee. Sie sahen wirklich wunderschön gemeinsam aus.

„Ich möchte wetten, dass die beiden ein wunderschönes Paar wären“, flüsterte ich zurück. Mein Schwanz regte sich in Marys angenehmer Wärme wieder. Ich fand es schon immer toll, wenn zwei Mädchen es miteinander trieben. Cynthia und Vivian schrien beide auf, als es ihnen kam. Ich streichelte den Körper meiner Liebhaberin, während wir weiter zusahen, wie die beiden Frauen sich von einem Orgasmus zum nächsten fickten. Meine Hand fand das weiche Fleisch von Marys Arsch.

„Ich möchte jeden Teil von dir kennenlernen“, flüsterte ich in ihr Ohr und leckte leicht das Ohrläppchen. „Hast du schon mal Analsex gehabt?“

Mary spannte sich kurz in meinem Arm an. „Nein. Mike“, es freute mich, einen ängstlichen Unterton in ihrer Stimme zu hören, als sie den Namen ihres Freundes erwähnte, „er hat es immer gerne gewollt. Aber ich hatte Angst, dass es zu weh tut.“

„Würdest du mich dich in den Arsch ficken lassen?“ fragte ich.

Sie zögerte. „Ich weiß nicht. Würde dich das glücklich machen?“

„Was meinst du?“ fragte ich. Ich war neugierig und ich hatte Hoffnung, dass sie es aus freien Stücken tun würde. Schon eigenartig, erst zwinge ich die Frau dazu, mich zu lieben und mich zu befriedigen und dann denke ich darüber nach, dass Mary eigene Entscheidungen trifft. Vielleicht liebte ich sie ja wirklich.

Mary schluckte. „Wirst du langsam und vorsichtig machen?“ fragte sie furchtsam.

„Ich würde dir nie wehtun“, sagte ich ihr. „Wir werden dich richtig schön vorbereiten.“

Eine perverse Idee kam mir, als ich aufstand. Ich streckte ihr meine Hand hin und half ihr auf. Mein Sperma lief in kleinen Bächen an ihren Beinen nach unten und auf dem Boden konnte ich eine kleine Pfütze aus unseren Säften sehen. „Hol dein Telefon“, sagte ich ihr.

Mary fragte nicht warum, aber sie drehte sich um, um meiner Aufforderung nachzukommen. Sie ging in den hinteren Bereich des Ladens. Ich musste ihr einfach in ihren wundervollen Arsch kneifen, als sie wegging. Sie hüpfte und schaute zu mir zurück, bevor sie hinten verschwand. Ich drehte mich zu den anderen Mädchen und sagte ihnen, dass sie jetzt aufhören sollten, sich gegenseitig zu ficken. Beide waren erschöpft, aber sie lächelten. Als Mary zurückkam, erklärte ich ihnen den Plan.

„Vivian, du bereitest Marys Arsch auf meinen Schwanz vor. Leck ihn und schmier ihn mit deinem Fotzensaft ein, damit er schön glitschig wird. Mary, du beugst dich über diesen Tisch und machst dich bereit, Mike anzurufen und mit ihm Schluss zu machen.“

Sie nickte und zuckte die Achseln. „Ich könnte ihn doch auch gleich jetzt anrufen.“

„Ich möchte, dass du das tust, während ich dich in den Arsch ficke“, sagte ich ihr. „Ich möchte, dass du ihm dann alles über deinen neuen Liebhaber erzählst, wie toll sein Schwanz ist, wie hart du für ihn gekommen bist und wie sein Schwanz dich gerade in den Arsch fickt, wo du ihn nie rangelassen hättest. Das verdient er, weil er dir gegenüber ein solches Arschloch war.“

Mary wurde schamrot. „Ich glaube, das kann ich nicht.“

„Vivian, du könntest Mary ein paar Tipps geben, damit ihr erster Analsex auch angenehm wird.“

Mary beugte sich über den Tisch und Vivian bediente ihren Arsch mit ihrer Zunge. Sie steckte ihr gleichzeitig ihre Finger in die Möse. Cynthia beugte sich neben Mary auch nach vorne und fing an, ihr Dinge ins Ohr zu flüstern. Es war total scharf. Mein Schwanz war schon wieder so hart, dass er wehtat. Vivian fing an, einen Finger langsam in Marys Arsch einzuführen und ich sah, wie Cynthia an Marys Ohr knabberte. Ihre Hand fuhr zwischen Marys Schenkel und fingerte ihren Kitzler. Nach ein paar Minuten sagte Vivian: „Sie ist jetzt schön glitschig.“ Sie schob jetzt zwei Finger in Marys Arschloch hin und her.

„Jetzt will ich nur noch meinen Schwanz glitschig machen“, sagte ich und stieß ihn tief in Cynthias Fotze. Sie keuchte überrascht auf und ihre Fotze umschloss meinen Schwanz ganz eng. Es fühlte sich sehr gut an. Fast wollte ich dort bleiben. Nach ein paar Stößen zog ich mich allerdings wieder heraus. Vivian hielt Marys Arschbacken für mich auseinander und ich brachte meinen Schwanz, der von Vivians Saft glänzte, an die Rosenknospe von Marys Arsch. „Jetzt komme ich, Süße!“

Mary nickte nur. Ihre Augen wurden groß, als meine Eichel in ihr verschwand. „Das fühlt sich groß an“, stöhnte sie, während ich langsam meinen Schwanz in ihren Arsch hinein arbeitete. Als ich ganz in ihr steckte, fragte ich sie, wie es ihr ging.

„Gut“, keuchte sie. Ihr Arsch drückte meinen Schwanz auf eine sehr angenehme Art und Weise. „Das ist gar nicht schlecht.“ Ich zog mich zurück und drückte mich anschließend wieder hinein. Sie stöhnte: „Das ist wirklich gar nicht schlecht!“ Ich fickte sie langsam. Ihr Arsch fühlte sich toll an. Enger und ein wenig rauer als ihre Muschi.

„Du machst das gut, Baby“, ermutigte Cynthia sie.

„Mmmm“, stöhnte Mary und nahm ihr Telefon in die Hand. Sie fummelte daran herum, navigierte durch die Menüs, fand Mikes Nummer und drückte auf die Wahltaste.

„Schalte auf Lautsprecher“, sagte ich ihr. Noch mehr Gefummle und sie schaffte es den Lautsprecher einzuschalten. Sie stöhnte laut und legte das Telefon vor sich auf den Tisch.

Das Telefon klingelte und klingelte und ich dachte schon, dass sich gleich die Voicemail melden würde, als wir eine schläfrige Stimme hörten. „Hallo Mary!“

„Hey, Mike“, stöhnte Mary in das Telefon. Ich fickte sie jetzt etwas schneller.

„Bist du okay, Baby?“ fragte er.

„Ja, ich werde gerade von meinem neuen Freund in den Arsch gefickt! Oh Gott! Fester, Mark! Fick mich fester!“ schrie sie in das Telefon.

Es gab eine Pause. „Sag das nochmal, Mary!“

„Mein neuer… oh Gott! Freund fickt mich gerade in den Arsch“, stöhnte sie. „Ich mache Schluss mit dir. Dein winziger Schwanz hat mich nie wirklich so befriedigt, wie das Mark macht!“

„Was passiert da?“ fragte er panisch. „Zwingt dich jemand dazu, das zu sagen?“
Mary stöhnte kehlig. Ich fickte sie jetzt richtig hart. Jedes Mal, wenn mein Schoß ihren Arsch traf, wackelte er. Der Tisch schaukelte. Ich packte mir ihren Pferdeschwanz und zog daran. Sie stöhnte erneut.

„Ich bin so ein verdorbenes Mädchen“, keuchte sie. „Mark hat mich so hart kommen lassen. Nicht so wie du. Ich habe mich noch nie so toll gefühlt.“ Sie heulte laut auf. „Ich kommeee! Sein Schwanz in meinem Arsch macht mich fertig!“

„Warum machst du das?“ fragte Mike. „Wenn das ein Witz sein soll, dann finde ich den nicht lustig.“

„Das ist kein Witz, Mike“, keuchte sie in das Telefon. „Es ist mir gerade gekommen, weil er mich in den Arsch fickt. Es ist wundervoll!“

„Bitte, Mary!“ bettelte Mike. „Das bist doch gar nicht du!“

„Wir sind fertig miteinander, Mike“, sagte sie ihm. „Mmmm! Ich muss jetzt Schluss machen. Ich komme gleich noch einmal!“ Mary beendete das Gespräch.

„Geil!“ stöhnte Vivian. Sie rieb sich schnell ihre Fotze.

Ich nickte in Richtung auf den Tisch und Vivian lächelte wissend. Sie kletterte auf den Tisch und setzte sich vor Marys Gesicht. Ich ließ Marys Pferdeschwanz los und Marys Kopf konnte jetzt Vivians Möse erreichen. Vivians große Titten schwangen hin und her, als sie sich unter Marys Zungenattacke auf dem Tisch wand. Ihre Finger zupften an ihren großen Nippeln.

Cynthia beugte sich zu Marys Ohr und sie zischte: „Leck der Nutte die Fotze aus, du Schlampe. Es soll ihr auf deiner verdorbenen Zunge feste kommen!“ Der Tisch schaukelte noch mehr, als Cynthia anfing, ihre eigene Fotze mit der Tischkante zu ficken.

Marys Telefon fing an zu läuten, ein lauter Popsong. Ich war nicht sicher, was es war. Mary schaute kurz auf. „Das ist nur Mike“, sagte sie und tauchte wieder in Vivians Möse. Es läutete immer weiter. Das nervte ganz schön.

„Vivian, mach mal ein Foto von uns allen mit Marys Telefon“, sagte ich. Vivian nickte, nahm das Telefon und spielte mit den Menüs. Ich vergrub meinen Schwanz tief in Marys Arsch und zog ihr an den Haaren. Damit hob ich ihr Gesicht wieder von Vivians Fotze ab. Ich zog Cynthia nah zu mir heran und gab ihr einen Kuss. Vivian machte das Foto.

Sie zeigte es allen. Es war wunderbar. Mary lächelte auf dem Bild und ihr Gesicht war von Vivians Saft verschmiert. Ich zog ihr an den Haaren. Der Winkel war so gewählt, dass man erkennen konnte, dass ich in ihrem Arsch steckte. Cynthias Titten waren gegen meine Arme gedrückt und ihre Zunge war in meinem Mund. Eine ihrer Hände drückten Marys Arsch. Man konnte sogar Vivians gebräunte Schenkel neben Mary sehen.

„Schreib ihm eine SMS. ‚Siehst du, wie glücklich ich bin. Hör auf, mich anzurufen, du Loser. P.S. Das auf meinem Gesicht ist Mösensaft.‘“ Vivian tippte schnell den Text und schickte das Foto ab. Ich fickte weiter Marys wunderbaren Arsch. Mary leckte weiter Vivians Möse aus und Cynthia fickte sich weiter mit der Tischkante. Das Telefon läutete nicht mehr.

Wir alle stöhnten und keuchten. Langsam bauten wir alle unsere Orgasmen auf. Es war so geil zu sehen, wie das Mädchen, dem ich den Arsch fickte, ein anderes Mädchen ausleckte. Cynthias Hand fuhr an meinem Bauch nach unten. Sie fasste meinen Schaft an, wo er in Marys Arsch verschwand. Sie fuhr weiter nach unten und umfasste meine Eier, die gegen Marys Muschi schlugen. Mary keuchte in Vivians Muschi, als Cynthia ihren Kitzler fand und anfing, ihn zu reiben. Ich stöhnte und entlud mich in ihren Eingeweiden. Mary schrie in Vivians Fotze, als es ihr auch noch einmal kam. Ihr Arsch spannte sich um meinen Schwanz und molk mich leer. Vivian fickte sich auf Marys Gesicht und schüttelte sich, als sie ihren Höhepunkt erreichte. Neben mir keuchte Cynthia und spritzte ihren Saft auf den Tisch.

Vivian machte mir den Schwanz sauber, während sich Cynthia um Marys Arsch und Muschi kümmerte. Ich zog mich gerade an, als es Mary auf dem Gesicht von Cynthia noch einmal kam. Sie lächelte mich glücklich an. Ich warf ihr ihr Höschen hin. Sie war noch immer reichlich wackelig auf den Beinen, weil es ihr so oft gekommen war und wir mussten alle lachen, als sie auf einem Fuß herumhüpfte und versuchte, ihr Höschen anzuziehen und nicht gleichzeitig umzufallen. Ich steckte mir Cynthias schwarzen String und Vivians Höschen in die Tasche.

Dann nahm ich mir mein Telefon von Evan wieder zurück. Der arme Kerl hatte die ganze Zeit über einfach dagestanden und alles aufgenommen. Es war fast kein Speicher mehr frei. Es sah allerdings so aus, als hätte das Gerät kaum etwas von der Orgie aufgenommen, bevor der Speicher voll war. Ich seufzte und überlegte mir, dass ich mir wohl besser einen Camcorder kaufen sollte und zusätzliche Speicherkarten, wenn ich all diese Momente auf Film festhalten wollte. Wahrscheinlich sollte ich mich gleich darum kümmern. Und Mary brauchte zweifellos etwas Hübscheres zum Anziehen als ihre Uniform. Und ich wollte, dass sie sich wachsen ließ. Ihre Muschi war zwar geil, aber ich mochte es lieber, wenn die Haare weg waren.

Ich ließ mir von Cynthia einen Mokka machen und Mary nahm einen Tee. Es war sehr sexy zu sehen, wie Cynthia die Getränke nackt zubereitete. Ihr Körper glänzte noch vor Schweiß und Mösensaft und meinem Sperma. Sie machte das Beste daraus. Sie hüpfte hinter dem Tresen hin und her und beugte sich vor, wenn sie so tat, als hätte sie etwas fallen gelassen. Dann konnte ich ihre wunderschöne rasierte Muschi sehen mit der einladenden rosafarbenen Tiefe. Sie spritzte sich Sahne auf die Titten und ließ sich von Vivian und mir sauber lecken. Schließlich, ich hatte meinen Kaffee und ein Brot in der Hand, war es an der Zeit, dass ich meine letzten Anweisungen gab.

„Evan, wenn Mary und ich gleich gehen, dann wirst du den Laden sauber machen und dann vergessen, was hier passiert ist. Ihr habt den Laden geschlossen, weil es kein heißes Wasser mehr gab.“ Ich erinnerte mich daran, dass ich einmal in einem Fastfood-Restaurant gearbeitet hatte und die durften nicht laufen, wenn es kein heißes Wasser gab. Das mussten irgendwelche Regeln des Gesundheitsamtes sein. „Das Problem ist jetzt beseitigt und ihr könnt jetzt wieder öffnen. Leider hat Mary einen besseren Job gefunden und gekündigt.“

Evan nickte nur.

„Cynthia und Vivian, Mary ist der Meinung, dass ihr super zueinander passt. Ich bin auch der Meinung. Von jetzt an seid ihr beide Liebhaberinnen. Ihr seid jetzt beide Lesben. Der einzige Mann, den ihr begehrt, bin ich. Okay?“ Sie nickten beide und küssten einander. „Ihr solltet eure Actions ins Netz stellen, damit könnt ihr eine Menge Geld verdienen. Sagt mir Bescheid, wenn ihr so weit seid. Ihr solltet wenigstens zweimal in der Woche streamen. Mehr wäre besser.“ Cynthia grinste Vivian verdorben an.

Wir hatten alle Accounts auf Facebook, so würden wir in Kontakt bleiben. Ich küsste Cynthia auf die Lippen und dann Vivian. Ich hielt Mary meine Hand hin. „Wollen wir gehen?“

Sie nahm meine Hand und drückte sie leicht. „Wohin?“

„In unsere Zukunft“, sagte ich und wir gingen durch die Tür.

To be continued . . .

Click here for Chapter 2

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 37: Mary Magdalene

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 37: Mary Magdalene

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Rape, Sadism, Humiliation, Violence, Murder, Male Domination

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 36.



Violet Matheson – Tacoma, WA

“Leah, Violet, and Desiree, scatter!” Master shouted. “They’re after me, you might get away!”

I looked one last time at Master, drinking in his form, then turned and ran as fast as I could from the wreckage. My heart thudded in terror. Behind me, gunfire erupted and I shrieked loudly. Please be okay, Master! Please! I pumped my legs as hard as I could, my lungs burning with exertion. I had never run so fast, so hard in my life.

But I couldn’t keep it up. After running six blocks my legs felt like solid lead and my sides ached. I just had to stop, bending over to grab my knees while I tried to catch my breath. Sweat poured off my forehead, stinging my eyes; I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

“We have to keep moving, Violet!” Desiree panted. I jumped, glancing behind me. I didn’t even realize that my slut-sister had been running with me. “They’re coming!”

I glanced behind me and saw soldiers in brown camo running down the street. They were still two blocks away and covering the ground fast. We were in a residential neighborhood; old houses, most looking run down, crowded the street while the residents stood on their porches watching both us and the soldiers in confused amusement.

“There!” Desiree pointed at a barely-paved alleyway and took off sprinting.

Fear gave me a second wind and I chased after her. She crashed through a gate in a chain-link fence, the metal rattling, and I was right on her tail. We ran down the side of a house and came out on the next street up. There was a loud, crashing sound of metal splintering wood off in the distance where Master was.

Stay safe, Master, I prayed. Please stay safe!

We cut across the street into another yard, through a gate in the picket fence, the white paint peeling, exposing grayish wood. Running down the side of the house into the backyard, my sides were killing me and I felt like throwing up. My thin top was wet with sweat, sticking to my boobs. Desiree marched up to a clothesline and ripped down a dress.

“We need to change,” Desiree panted, her nut-brown skin flushed with exertion. “We stand out too much dressed like this.”

I flushed; the tube-top I was wearing was so tight, it was practically a second skin, and my sweat made the red material slightly transparent exposing my nipples and areolas completely. I took the dress from Desiree and pulled it over my head. It was too big for me, the skirt fell down way past my knees. I felt like I wore a tent it was so loose and baggy, so unlike the tight clothes I had grown used to wearing since I met Master.

There was a crashing sound and I turned to see two soldiers walking down the side of the house, aiming their big rifles. Desiree froze for a moment, a second dress in her hand. She glance once at me, smiled, then took off running towards the other side of the house, shouting loudly. The soldiers cursed and chased after her, leaving me frozen in the backyard.

You need to move, Violet. She drew them off so you could escape. So keep moving! Find someplace to hide. There was a back gate that led out into another alley. I ran through it, and looked around the alley, trying to regain my breath. I heard booted footsteps and ducked behind an olive-green, plastic trashcan, trembling as I hid. I curled up into a ball, sobbing silently. My muscles were cramping and I started to shake.

This could not be happening. This was worse then when the SWAT team attacked us last June. I just wanted to stay where I was, hiding behind the trashcan. I didn’t ever want to leave. I didn’t care that it smelled bad, or that the gravel was sharp and poked my side. It was safe. I was safe. Please, please don’t find me!

“Save me, Master,” I whispered, clutching at the choker about my neck. “Please come save me, Master.”

Gravel crunched and I jumped. Someone was approaching. I curled up as tight as I could, taking only the shallowest of breaths. My heart was hammering loudly in my chest. They’re going to hear my heart thundering away, I realized with fear. It’s so loud. Fresh terror surged through me, driving my heart to beat louder and louder. Please stop beating so loud! But my heart ignored me and kept hammering away.

The footsteps drew closer; I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what was coming. More gravel scraped and crunched as they drew closer; the soldiers were almost to my hiding spot. I’m going to get captured. My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst right out of my chest. The crunching footsteps were right next to me. I was found, they had caught me. I tensed, waiting for the blow to be struck, the bullet to be fired.

Instead it was the lightest of touch.

Cautiously, I cracked my eyes open to see a young woman smiling down at me with warm, blue eyes and a friendly smile. She held out her hand and relief flooded through me. I wasn’t caught. I hesitantly uncurled, grasped her hand, and she gently helped me to my feet. I hugged her gratefully, tears running down my face. I wasn’t caught!

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered over and over.

She just held me for a moment, not answering, then led me into her house.

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

Mary Glassner – Osage Field, Kansas

I sat facing Sam across the hole, the September sun warm on my back as it sank towards the western horizon.

The hole was a few feet deep, dug by Duncan and the other former SWAT officers. We were in a grassy field next to one of the runways at Osage Field, the decommissioned Cold War airbase in the middle of nowhere, Kansas, that Mark and I had purchased. It was our bolthole. Nearby was a Missile Silo, also shut down, converted into a survival bunker. We staffed the airfield with volunteers bound to us with the Zimmah spell: the SWAT Officers who survived the attack last June, their wives and girlfriends, and the Blackwoods. It was nice seeing Belinda and her teenage daughter Cassie again, and I remembered all the fun I had with Mark’s jogging sluts last June. Along with Belinda’s husband Oscar, the Blackwoods took care of the actual Missile Silo, while the SWAT Officers and their families took care of the airfield and provided security.

All our friends and family paced around the hole or stood in worried knots. Mark’s mother and sister looked sick with worry and the sluts all clung around Alison, encouraging the girl that Desiree was safe and she would be reunited with her wife. I saw Rachel and Jacob, our accountants, holding each other. Their wife Leah is our chauffeur and was with Mark when the attack happened. Images of our dead bodyguards were being shown on the news, along with Mark’s beating. But there was no news on Leah or Violet. I hoped that meant they escaped, but I feared that they were dead.

“Are we ready,” I demanded impatiently of Sam. Every minute we delayed was another minute that my husband was getting beaten.

“Yes,” Sam answered. “Light it.”

The hole was piled with brush and soaked in gasoline. Duncan lit a rag and tossed it into the pit. The fire had a greasy smell, and a sickly, black smoke that burned my eyes rose up into the sky. Sam closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her plaything, Candy, sat next to her, holding Sam’s olive hand. Sam was our Vizier. She understood all the magic better than anyone, even inventing a few spells and charms all on her own.

I had a plan. I was going to take a Nun’s powers and exorcise Brandon. He wanted me. All of his broadcasts contained his threat to beat Mark until I turned myself in. He wanted to make me his slut, just like Mark had made his wife Desiree our slut. All I had to do was submit to his lusts and exorcise him, and then this would all be over.

But I needed to know one important fact—if Brandon had a sister, he could perform the Mowdah spell and be able to recognize my new aura. Right now my aura was red, a Warlock’s aura, but after I steal the Nun’s Gift of the Spirit, my aura would turn bronze. Just like Mark’s had; the aura of a Shaman. The Magicks of the Witch of Endor spoke at great length on aura colors, including the Shaman’s. I needed confirmation that my plan would work.

I needed necromancy.

“Spirits of the dead, I beseech you,” Sam shouted out, holding her arms above the fire as she began the Naba ritual. It was supposed to be very dangerous. If you conjured the wrong spirit, one filled with violence or hatred, it could lash out and hurt the summoner, and since your life-force sustained the summoning, it placed a great strain on you. If you maintained it too long, you could even die. “Appear before me. Rise once more from the grave and clothe yourself in smoke and fire and give us your counsel!”

The ground groaned in pain and the fire surged upward with a screaming roar. The heat was so intense that it caused me to wince and slam my eyes shut in pain. My skin felt like it was about to blacken beneath the roaring inferno Sam conjured, and my heart hammered in fear. Something had gone wrong, Sam had messed up and unleashed an inferno that is consuming us. Then there was a great, moaning whoosh and the heat vanished.

Everything went still, quiet. Deathly.

The sun no longer felt warm on my back; I felt a growing chill that seemed to seep up from the hole. Cold, clammy air caressed my naked body. I shivered, opening my eyes, to see a figure coalescing out of the thick, black smoke rising up from the depths of the earth. From the depths of Hell.

The smoke was swirling towards the coalescing shape, thickening it. A torso grew, sprouting arms and legs like tendrils from a vine. A dome appeared, swelling up into a head. The smoke kept swirling in and the billowy figure grew more and more solid. The lines of a body started to appear, legs grew firm and slim, hips narrowed, and the hint of a bosom formed. Wispy hair sprouted curly from the head and the features of the face grew more defined, a doll’s face with plump lips.

My heart froze, I knew that face.

My eyes watered in grief as Karen spoke, “Hello, Mistress.” Her voice was soft, distant. Ethereal. It was like she was shouting from a thousand miles away, a million miles. Farther away than the Moon, the Sun, all the stars in the heavens. It seemed that all of existence lay between us, a vast gulf that her voice was somehow just able to cross.

“Karen,” my voice broke; tears rolled wet down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Karen.”

“Don’t be, Mistress,” Karen whispered. “It was not your fault. That vile creature tricked you.”

“Are you in pain? Does it hurt where you are?”

She smiled softly. “No, Mistress. Chasity and the others wait with me.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Why for you and Master, of course. Even in death, we are yours. Always yours.” Her gray, smokey hand reached out and cupped my face, wiping at my tears. “Master needs you. So how can I help?”

“Does Brandon Fitzsimmons have a sister?”

“No, just a brother,” Karen answered.

Relief flooded through me. This was going to work! “Is the Mother Superior at Rennes-le-Château?”

“She is, Mistress,” Karen answered. “Alone and waiting for you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “She’s waiting for me?”

“For two thousand years she has waited for you, Mistress,” Karen paused. “Momentous things are happening. Lucifer has driven his enemies from the field and now he waits as his prison crumbles about him. Dark days lie ahead of you.”

“I don’t care, I just need to save Mark!” I cried.

“Sam is nearing the limits of her strength. Ask quickly!” Karen urged.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” I asked. “Something I haven’t thought of?”

“Brandon has…” Sam screamed, loud and sudden, drowned out Karen’s words. “…other.”

“What did you say?” I asked as the smoke started to drift apart, the form vanishing into a billowing cloud that rose up to the heavens.

Karen was gone.

Sam collapsed on the ground, twitching, blood trickling from her nose. I should be concerned for her, but all I could think about were Karen’s words. Brandon has what? An other? That didn’t make sense. A mother, maybe? He somehow found the way to bind anyone that heard him speak with the Zimmah spell. Maybe it involved his mother somehow. A male Warlock needs to use his mother to bind someone. I frowned. No, that could not be right? His mother was dead. Our investigation into Brandon revealed that. It’s why we didn’t think of him as a threat.

“Ma’am, the plane is fueled,” Lynda, one of our pilots, said.

“Let’s go,” I said, pushing aside those questions. Mark was in too much danger to waste a second.

My mom caught my arm as I walked by. “She’s a legend, the Mother Superior. You heard Karen, she’s waiting for you. Don’t do this.”

“I have to, Mom,” I said, shaking my arm from hers. “There is no other choice.”

“Please, Mary,” my mom begged.

I hugged her. “It will be okay. She’s alone. I will have thirty armed men and women with me. I will be perfectly safe. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Mom whispered and kissed my cheek.

Dad gave me a hug and kissed me on my forehead. “You can do it, Mary. I know you can. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered, fighting back tears.

Sam was standing up, looking shaky, as Candy held a cloth to her bleeding nose. For a moment I thought I saw anger in Candy’s eyes as she helped Sam. I was about to say something when Missy ran up and hugged me fiercely. “Good luck, sis!” she said and kissed me on the lips.

“You watch out for Mom and Dad,” I told her and ruffled her strawberry-blonde hair. I glanced back at Candy and I only saw concern for Sam on her face. Did I even see any anger?

“You can count on me, Mary!” Missy exclaimed.

I walked to the 747. I planned on taking all twenty-one of the bodyguards and the nine SWAT officers. It would leave all my loved ones unprotected, but none of that mattered if I couldn’t save Mark in time. I took one last look at all our friends and family before the hatch was closed. I walked to my seat and strapped in. My thoughts were full of worry over what Karen had tried to tell me. I focused, trying to remember how her lips were moving, trying to figure out what Sam’s scream had drowned out.

I had a long flight to France to ponder it.

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

Desiree de la Fuentes – Tacoma, WA

Being captured wasn’t what I thought it would be.

After being forced to watch my ex-husband order Master’s brutal beating, I was taken to the showers in the the jail next-door to the courthouse. Two female soldiers, one tall with a plain face and the other short and stocky, stripped me naked and shoved me in with a bar of soap and shampoo. As the warm water sprayed on my sore body, I wondered if I would ever see my wife again.

I leaned forward against the tiled wall, and my body shook with silent sobs. I desperately wanted to see my slutty Alison again. I pictured her mischievous face framed by her bubblegum hair, her tongue running over her lush lips, silver glinting off her tongue-piercing. Master gave the distress call; Alison should be far away, safe wherever the bolthole was.

Safe with Mistress.

“You’re clean,” Plain-Face barked. “Let’s go. We need to get you ready for Him.”

I shuddered; the woman said ‘him’ with such a worshipful manner. I had heard Brandon’s pronouncement—he claimed he was a God now. As if he could even compare to Master, I thought with derision. The women handed me a black dress to wear. It was similar to one Brandon bought me before Mark claimed me, low cut and tight, showing off all of my body’s ample assets.

“Take off the choker,” Stocky ordered.

“No,” I said with defiance. I am Mark’s slut!

Stocky just reached out and yanked it off my neck, snapping the clasp. I wanted to cry. Instead, I glared icily at the woman who pocketed my choker. She handed me a jewelry box that contained a pearl necklace and I knocked it to the floor.

“Don’t make us hurt you,” she threatened as she picked up the box.

Grinding my teeth, I took the necklace and placed it about my throat. They hadn’t noticed my wedding ring, and as we walked through the jail, I quickly pulled it off my left hand and slipped it onto my right. They took the symbol of my voluntary slavery and I wasn’t about to lose the symbol of my love for Alison.

The soldiers marched me through the jail. We constantly had to stop to let security gates be buzzed open. Everyone manning the prison was a soldier. There were bloodstains dotting the walls and empty shell casings littering the floor. And not all the gates had to be buzzed open, some lay twisted and blackened from explosives. As we walked, I realized there was no-one making cat-calls at me. The cells were empty.

“Where are all the prisoners?” I asked, unnerved by the empty cells.

“Executed,” Plain-Face answered. “His orders.”

My blood chilled. I wondered what had happened to Brandon. I never loved him, but he wasn’t an evil man. Right? He always seemed nice and attentive. He had a temper, sure, but I was having trouble reconciling the man I married and the monster that appeared today. Stocky prodded me and I realized that I had frozen in my tracks. Swallowing, I started walking forward again.

Was he always a monster and I just never saw it in him?

They led me out to the exercise yard, at the center of the jail. A small courtyard with a few basketball hoops, some metal tables lining the side. The both tables and stools were bolted into the concrete. The exercise yard was crowded with women milling about under the hungry eyes of a group of soldiers. All the women were naked, young, and reasonably attractive.

A larger table had been set up with a white tablecloth and mauve candles; a bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket. A romantic dinner? A naked teen with blonde hair walked up to me, smiling broadly. She bowed to me then dismissed Stocky and Plain-Face with the wave of her arm. The two soldiers saluted and walked off.

“My Lady,” the girl said. She had a Midwest twang to her voice. “I am Ashley, your Lord Husband’s chief concubine.”

“You’re his slut,” I corrected.

“As you say, my Lady,” she replied. “Would you care to sit? Lord Brandon will be here shortly to dine with you.”

I was about to refuse, when a woman shouted in a rich, French accent, “Kneel before your God, the Majestic Brandon, the Divine Ruler of the World!”

I snorted with laughter. The Majestic Brandon? The soldiers knelt on one knee while the women in the exercise yard and Ashley fell prostrate. I remained standing, refusing to genuflect before my ex, and turned to see a porcelain-faced woman with long, dark-brown hair, falling naked to worship my ex-husband as he swept in. Behind him walked a bevy of naked women, led by a pair of twins who were almost the spitting image of Mary. Several military men – some sort of high-ranking officers judging by their age and bearing – followed on the heels of the naked women, and the last to enter was the mayor of Tacoma, Colton Bray, and his lovely Korean wife, Yoon.

“My beautiful Desiree,” Brandon said warmly, walking up and hugging me; I stiffened in his arms. Brandon frowned and broke the hug. “I see he has warded you from my control.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that I hate you, picaflor?” I asked bitterly, as he motioned to the seat, indicating that I should sit. I grit me teeth and plopped down on the chair.

“You do not hate me, not deep down inside,” Brandon said calmly. “Mark has forced you to hate me. You are under his power.”

I snorted a laugh and muttered in Spanish, “Babosa.” Brandon was an idiot.

One of the auburn-haired twins popped open the wine and poured two glasses, then she knelt with all the other naked women and looked adoringly up at Brandon. Not even Master made us fawn over him like this.

“No, I hate you for this,” I pointed around. “You attacked us. Your damn soldiers almost killed my loved ones. Almost killed me! You are having my Master cruelly beaten and what are you doing with all these women?” I motioned to the scared women crowded in the exercise yard.

“They were candidates for my harem,” Brandon calmly answered. “The ones I rejected. My soldiers are rounding-up every attractive woman they find, and I’m keeping the best. Don’t looked so shocked; Mark did the same thing. He walked into our house and made you his whore.” Heat was rising in his voice. “But don’t you worry, my love, I will find a way to free you.”

“Mark already freed me, babosa,” I answered, putting as much derision into my voice as I could. “I’m his slut willingly. We all are.”

Brandon frowned as another naked woman set a salad before the both of us. My stomach rumbled, but I pushed the food aside. Brandon took a forkful, chewed it slowly, face furrowed as he thought. He swallowed, then asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Back in June, after the Miracle, Master and Mistress freed us. Some of us chose to stay as their slaves.” Feeling spiteful, I added, “I could have returned to you, but I never loved you, Brandon. I just married you for your money. I was a gold digger. I stayed with Master because I fell in love, and I could have all the wealth I could possibly dream of as his whore, more than I ever could have as your wife.”

Anger flashed on his face and I was too surprised to react as he slapped me across the table. “So you love Mark,” he spat. “That vile beast that took you away from me. You were mine!”

“¡Tu madre es puta y pendeja!” I shouted back, rubbing my cheek. “No, I am Alison’s! I fell in love with their slave and married her. I found true happiness! Something that you never gave me! All I ever got from you was a comfortable life and disappointing sex!”

I blocked his second blow and raked my fingernails down his arm. I smiled at the bloody scratches I gave him. He stood up, rage filling his eyes, and rounded the table at me. I quickly got to my feet and tried to back away, but I stumbled over one of his kneeling whores. His arm caught mine in a steely grip. I snarled at him and slapped him across the face.

My head swam as he backhanded me and I tripped over the kneeling woman and fell hard onto my back. “¡Culero!” I snarled at him. “How could I love a muerdealmohadas like you. You don’t even know what to do with a woman! Not with your little dick! ¡Pinche mula!”

He stared down at me, rage burning in his eyes. “I dislike having to chastise you, Desiree, but you will learn to submit to me if I have to beat all the willfulness out of you.”

“¡Jode su madre!” I spat. “I chose Alison and I chose Mark over you! Mistress is out there! You think you’ve won, but she will crush you! And I will be there to see you fall!”

Brandon laughed. “Let the little whore try.” I felt his eyes upon me as I lay on the floor; my skirt had ridden up as I fell and I pushed it back down, covering my exposed pussy. “Why so modest now?” he asked with a hungry look in his eyes. “You weren’t so bashful this morning with your tits exposed and covered in his cum.”

“¡Ve a chuparle el peson ha un chango! I’m his whore, not yours! Never yours.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” he smiled, unbuckling his belt. “Hold her down.”

His harem grabbed me. I thrashed against the women as they pinned my arms to the ground. Others held my legs. I kicked one in the face and she screamed in pain, but others moved in, fingernails biting into my flesh as they held me down. Brandon’s pants were off, his cock jutting out at me beneath his fat belly.

“I forgot just how small you were,” I said with a bold grin. “After Mark’s, I’m not sure I’ll even feel your little rope in me!”

He knelt before me, his fat, disgusting body pressed atop me. “You’ll feel my cock, whore!”

“I always hated having sex with you, panzon. There is nothing less appealing than a fat whale thrashing about on top of you, gasping for breath as he tries to pump away with his little cock!”

“Cunt!” he snarled and slapped me.

My head rang and everything went hazy for a moment. I shook my head then felt a burning pain in my pussy as his cock forced its way in. I was dry; Brandon didn’t seem to care. He just kept pumping away. I suppressed a groan, I wasn’t about to let the bastard know just how much he was hurting me. Looking up, his neck was right above me, his throat exposed.

I could bite him, maybe rip out his artery. Then this all would be over. I could save us all! I lunged my head and bit into his neck, hard. I tasted coppery blood and bit harder, driving my teeth deeper into his neck. He pulled away, roaring in pain.

“Goddamn fucking whore!” he shouted, his left hand clutching at his bleeding throat.

There was a bloody bite, but it wasn’t deep enough. He raised his right fist up and slammed it into my face. The back of my head hit the hard concrete and everything was fuzzy after that. I was barely aware of Brandon pumping away inside me. The world seemed to swim drunkenly about me. My head lolled to the side and I stared at the knees of one of the women holding me down, a gray pebble stuck to her leg. Then everything just faded away.

It was the pain that brought me back. My head was splitting and there was a burning pain down in my pussy. I could feel a crushing weight on top of me. I struggled to open my eyes and there was Brandon, his neck covered with a white bandage. He was still raping me, I realized. I felt raw and sore inside and every thrust of his cock was agony.

“Umm, you’re not a bad fuck when you’re unconscious,” Brandon told me with glee. “If you want to wiggle about, though, that’s alright.”

I struggled to speak, but my head ached too much and then darkness fell on me again. I don’t think I was out long, Brandon was still pumping away inside me when I woke up the second time. His face contorted in pleasure and then I realized with a disgusted shudder that he was shooting his cum inside me.

“God, I love Viagra! Three times without rest,” he smiled. “And I definitely feel like a fourth. What do you say, Desiree. Want to be on top, this time? My knees are killing me.”

“I’d rather die, el de atras,” I slurred.

“My Lord, sunset approaches,” a man said; his voice seemed distant even though I could see him standing right behind Brandon.

I moaned in relief as Brandon pulled out of me. He looked down at me, considering. “I can’t have you looking all ugly,” Brandon said with a shake of his head. He bent down and muttered a word and heat flashed through me and a scarlet light seemed to envelop my body. The heat banished the pain, and the fuzz clouding my thoughts was burned away as Brandon healed me. “Stand up, Desiree, I want you to see something.”

I felt dirty as I stood up, Brandon’s cum leaking out of my pussy. I wanted to throw-up, to run and hide, but I wasn’t going to give my rapist any more satisfaction than I had to. Holding my head high, I followed Brandon out into the exercise yard. While I had been lying senseless, a large fire had been built in the center, lighting up the courtyard as the sky darkened. The Mayor of Tacoma and his wife, Yoon, waited at the fire.

“You are familiar with the Magicks of the Witch of Endor?” Brandon asked and I nodded my head. “Well, it teaches a variety of ways to summon demons. They all will make Pacts with you. The only problem is the cost. Most demons want your absolute worship and obedience to grant your wishes. While others will have you preform tasks that will seem innocuous, at first, but will actually lead to your downfall. There are only two demons that have fixed prices: Lucifer, whom Mark and I both, have already dealt with, and Molech. Of course, Molech’s prices are very demanding.” Brandon held out his hand. “General Brooks.”

One of the military generals walked up and handed Brandon a long knife. The knife’s blade glinted orange and yellow in the firelight as it flashed through the air. I jumped in shock as Brandon drove the knife into Mayor Bray’s chest. The Mayor stared dumbfounded at the blade in his chest, the blood blossoming red through his shirt. Then General Brooks shoved the Mayor and he fell into the fire. Yoon screamed and collapsed to her knees, crying as her husband was engulfed in the flames.

“Molech, I give you this offering of noble blood,” Brandon intoned at the fire. “Cloak yourself in coals and flames and appear before your humble supplicant!”

The fire popped and crackled and then the flames exploded upward, white hot and screaming. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the terrible noise, the sound of thousands and tens of thousands of voices crying out in eternal agony. The sound of Damnation itself.

There was something moving in the flames. I flinched and stumbled back as a hulking figure stepped out. His skin was black as soot and covered in angry, red fissures that glowed with the being’s inner flames. His eyes were coals that burned with hatred, and the air danced and shimmered about him and smoke poured out of his nostrils and mouth. The fire abruptly died down and the terrible screaming stopped. The figure surveyed the crowed and everyone retreated before his terrible gaze.

Everyone, except Brandon.

The air reeked of rotting eggs and ash, and when the demon spoke, his voice was the roar of a furnace. “What do you wish of me, Mortal?”

“Free Desiree from Mark’s control,” Brandon demanded.

I shuddered in fear as Molech’s burning eyes fixed on me, peering into me, into my soul, leaving me feeling used. Soiled worse even than Brandon’s rapes. “Impossible. She is bound too tightly to him. What else, Mortal.”

Disappointment flickered on Brandon’s face. “Immortality, youth, and sexual stamina.”

“I require nine hundred sacrifices,” Molech answered grimly. “All women. If you fail to provide them to me, I shall take you as my sacrifice.”

“Done,” Brandon answered. The demon reached out and grabbed Brandon’s arm. When he released it, an angry-red brand circled his limb. Grimacing in pain, Brandon pointed at the sobbing Mayor’s wife. “Your first payment.”

Molech smiled and I could feel the lust radiating off of him. Rising from his groin was a black, smoking cock. He reached down and grabbed Yoon; her flesh shriveled where he touched her. She screamed in agony as he dragged her off into the prison. I fell to my knees, heaving violently. What sort of monster did I marry? Yoon’s screams echoed from the prison.

“Desiree,” Brandon said pleasantly when I finished vomiting. “If you don’t start acting like a good, submissive wife, I will give you to Molech and you can enjoy his embrace.”

I shuddered in fear, looking up at Brandon.

He was younger now, I realized, in his twenties. His clothes hung loosely on him, his balding hair had regrown and his now too-large pants slipped off his waist, revealing a muscular, flat stomach. His cock was hardening; Yoon still screaming in the background.

“When Molech is finished with Yoon, he will want his next woman,” Brandon threatened. “Your choice, Desiree.”

Yoon’s screams sent ice pumping through my veins. My will snapped before the fear of Molech. Feeling like the most disgusting, lowest creature in the world I knelt in submission before my rapist. I grabbed his cock, opened my mouth, and sucked it inside. I tried to look happy on the outside. I had to please him. I didn’t want to be given to Molech.

“Good,” Brandon purred, stroking my hair. “I’m so happy that you’ve finally realized your place, my love.”

Inside I cried. I was a filthy worm now, forever crawling in his muck.

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

Leah Hirsch-Goldstein-Blum – Tacoma, WA

I was alone after Mark told us to run and I hid beneath a rusty pickup truck. I was too frightened to move. Not even hunger, thirst, or my increasingly full bladder was strong enough to overcome my terror. It was after dark when they finally captured me. The soldiers ripped my bloody clothes off, laughing as they groped my breasts and ass. Then I was thrown into the back of an army truck with other naked, frightened women.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They say we’re being taken to the God,” a woman whispered in a hushed voice, an awed voice. “If we’re lucky, he’ll choose us for his harem.”

What happened if we weren’t lucky? I swallowed the question, not sure I wanted to know the answer. “I can’t be in his harem. I’m married!” Jacob and Rachel must be worried sick about me. I desperately wanted to see my wife and husband again.

“They shot my husband,” another woman sobbed. “He tried to stop them from taking me and…”

I hugged the crying woman. “Shh, everything will be alright,” I said. What else was I supposed to say? “I’m Leah.”

“Beatrice,” the woman sobbed.

I held her as the truck drove slowly through the city. A few more women and teenage girls were loaded into the back, all naked and shivering in fear. They were all pretty. Soon, we were pulling up at the Courthouse and the soldiers herded us out.

“Nice ass,” one said, giving mine a squeeze. I shuddered as his dirty fingers pawed me. “If you’re not chosen for the Harem, I’m gonna requisition you for myself.”

I shuddered in disgust. Other soldiers were molesting the women as they lined us up. I held Beatrice’s hand as we were marched into the jail. We had to navigate the corridors and pass through a half-dozen locked gates before we reached the exercise yard. It was full of nude women. There was a young man, naked, getting his cock sucked by a Latina woman and eying us as we were marched before him.

“You can stop, Desiree,” the man ordered.

I was surprised to see Desiree, her cheeks stained with tears, releasing his cock. She looked down at the ground the whole time, her eyes dead, as the man began to examine us carefully, grinning like a hungry wolf. Desiree looked so defeated. I had never seen the vivacious woman look so meek and scared. What had they done to her? I swallowed in fear, glancing at the man. He must be the one who attacked us.

“I am your God, Brandon,” he declared. “Worship me.”

All the women, Beatrice included, changed. He’s like Mark and Mary, I realized. A God. I was unaffected because Mark had gifted me with protection. The women were falling to their knees, crying out in awe at Brandon. I fell to my knees, and tried to sound like them. I couldn’t let Brandon know I wasn’t under his control.

He tapped three women on the shoulder. “You are my concubines. You love me and will do anything to make me happy. The rest of you, go wait in the exercise yard,” he said dismissively.

Neither Beatrice or I were chosen, and we were herded into the yard with the other women. They all looked fearful, glancing at a bonfire that slowly died down. Brandon gathered his concubines and Desiree, and left. I saw 51 and 27, two of the bodyguards, and moved towards them.

There was a blood-curdling scream from inside the prison. “What was that?” I asked one of the bodyguards.

51 just shook her head, a look of numb horror on her face. Dried blood streaked from a gash along her forehead.

“El Diablo,” 27 hissed in terror, her Latina face contorted in fear. She was a former LAPD officer, I vaguely recalled. One of the women who volunteered to join the bodyguard. “He comes. Chooses.”

“Chooses what?” Beatrice asked.

27 motioned at all of the women trapped in the exercise yard.

It wasn’t long before el Diablo came. I screamed in terror when I saw him. He was a hulking figure, skin black and cracked with glowing red, like cooling lava. The air stank of sulfur. All the women in the courtyard screamed in panic and shrank away from his gaze. I pressed back, fighting to get as far away from the monstrosity as I could.

“Save me!” I prayed loudly to my Living Gods, Mark and Mary. “Please, please come save your faithful servant! Deliver me from this abomination!”

A new scream, full of pain, rang out. The monster had found his sacrifice. His black fist was around the slim arm of a young, blonde girl. The demon mercilessly dragged her off, back into the prison. Relief flooded me. But it didn’t last long. After a half-hour, the demon, Molech, returned. Every thirty minutes, a new woman was selected and we all endured her screams, trembling in terror. By midnight I was numb. I didn’t care about anything. So long as I wasn’t chosen.

When the soldier grabbed me and led me off, I was relieved. It didn’t matter to me that he was going to rape me. I was getting out of the exercise yard; I was getting away from Molech. Three soldiers used me for an hour. I tried to be the best whore for them I could, putting all my years of partying to good use. I forced down the guilt of betraying Jacob and Rachel as I begged the men to fuck me harder and pretended to coo in pleasure as their cocks raped my holes.

I just couldn’t go back to the exercise yard. To Molech. I realized I would do anything to stay away.

When the soldiers were done with me, however, they dragged me kicking and screaming back to the yard, pushing me into the crowd. Sunday’s dawn was pinking the horizon. Maybe Molech was afraid of the sun. Maybe he wouldn’t come. That delusion quickly fled my mind, driven off by mind-numbing terror, as he stalked like an earthquake out of the prison. When he dragged off his newest victim, all I felt was relief. I wasn’t chosen.

Yet.

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

Lana Paquet-Holub – Seattle, WA

“Lana, bring me the twins,” Lilith commanded.

“Yes, my Goddess,” I answered, standing up.

For hours, Lilith has been brooding in her chambers, ever since Brandon’s dramatic attack on Mark and his occupation of Tacoma. Brandon had, in a single day, brought the entire United States to its knees. Only a few hours ago, the President himself had knelt and paid homage to Brandon, surrendering the Country to him.

All of our careful maneuverings in Seattle would be for naught with this new, and unanticipated, player. We had the Mayor under the control of Lilith’s daughter Lamia. And Ziki, another daughter, had assumed the form of Nate Kirkpatrick and slowly hired Lilith’s followers to key positions within the city’s government. We were so close to taking over the city and establishing Lilith’s rule.

So close.

And then this damned Brandon Fitzsimmons had to go and ruin it all!

Lilith must have a plan to stop him, I thought, as I threaded my way through the warehouse. It was owned by the City of Seattle and not currently in use. With the Mayor in our power, we quietly occupied it, moving Lilith’s Children and her pregnant followers here. Babylon’s house had quickly grown too crowded.

As I walked past the women they all bowed to me. Some were pregnant, while others had already birthed Lilith’s children. The children all stood out from us regular humans in some way—unusual colorings, abnormal heights, or strange features that made them look slightly different. My daughter, Cora, was a Manticore. She was big and had leonine features. Lamia, Chantelle’s daughter, had purple hair. Others stood out even more. Ziki, who masqueraded as Nate Kirkpatrick, was a freakish albino in her natural form.

And the twins were the strangest of all of Lilith’s children.

I found them with their mother, a recovering heroin addict named Andi. The twins were pale girls, their hair pure white and they lacked any pigment in their eyes. They were born yesterday, and would reach their maturity by tomorrow evening. When I entered the room, the twins jumped in surprise. One vanished completely, the other became translucent; I shuddered in discomfort as I could see straight through her.

They were both Dimme, more spirits than creatures of flesh. When they were translucent or invisible they could pass through solid objects. Lilith was ecstatic when they were born. “Dimme are assassins,” Lilith had purred when she saw the twins, “capable of penetrating an enemy’s defenses and killing their target with a single touch.”

They could only kill when they were solid. When they were vulnerable.

Most of Lilith’s children were immune to normal weapons. Only enchanted weapons or cold iron could hurt them. But a few, like the Dimme, were more vulnerable. As long as a Dimme remained translucent or invisible, she could not be harmed by anything. However, she could not affect anything, either. To kill, she had to become solid and leave herself vulnerable to any weapon.

“Di, Emi,” I said, holding out my hand. “Your Mother wishes to see you.” One of them reappeared, Emi I think, and Di became solid. They both gripped my hand, hesitantly, and I smiled shyly at them.

“Mother needs us?” Emi asked.

I nodded. “Come on.”

Both girls smiled and looked almost cute. Almost.

Lilith was waiting in her chambers, the former warehouse manager’s office. It was richly appointed. Persian rugs covered the floor, silk tapestries hung on the walls, and scented candles, held in gold sconces, lit the room, filling the air with sweet jasmine and spicy cinnamon. Lilith sat at her richly carved, mahogany desk and smiled happily when we walked in. She stood up from the desk and knelt down, her arms outstretched.

Emi and Di ran to her, laughing as their mother scooped them up in her arms. “Ohh, you two are growing up so fast,” Lilith praised, then kissed them both on their foreheads. “And so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, Mother,” Di politely said.

“No,” Lilith answered with a vain smile. “But then no-one is.” Lilith set her daughters down. “You two will be fully grown by tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, Mother,” Emi nodded. “By Sunday night.”

Lilith smiled broadly. “Good.” Lilith conjured the images of Brandon Fitzsimmons and Mark Glassner. Well, I thought it was Brandon she conjured. He looked younger and slimmer than he appeared on TV, with a full head of hair. Perhaps he cast a spell? Or did he make a deal with some demon? “Sunday night, when you are fully grown, you are to go south to Tacoma and kill these two men,” Lilith instructed her daughters.

Di and Emi both smiled. I suppressed a shudder. They were hungry, disturbing smiles. “Of course, Mother.”

Lilith spread out some maps and we began to plan the twins’ infiltration.

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

Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA

“No, no!” Mary shrieked. “Mark, please! Help me!”

I strained against the chains, struggling to break the iron links, ignoring the pain in my bruised muscles and the bite of the manacles into the skin of my wrists. I screamed wordlessly in fear and rage. My tongue was gone; cut out on Brandon’s orders. And with my tongue gone, so went all my power. I couldn’t command people, I couldn’t cast any spells.

My tongue was my power.

Brandon ripped Mary’s dress, exposing her freckled breasts. A look of hunger crossed the fat man’s face. Mary had come to rescue me, and had failed. She turned to run and Brandon caught her by her long, auburn ponytail and yanked her back.

“No, no!” she cried out. “Mark, please! You have to save me! Please, please!”

Brandon hauled her back, throwing her to the ground. He was on her faster than I thought the fat man could move, pinning her beneath his monstrous bulk. Mary’s cries and whimpers tore my heart apart as I wrenched at the chains, heaving with all my might. I had to save my wife. I poured every bit of strength I possessed, ignoring all the hurts and pain I felt. None of that mattered. If I had to rip my arm off to save my Mary, then so be it!

“Bease,” I cried, without a tongue the word sounding like mush, as I heaved at the chain.

I pulled and pulled, my body screaming in pain. But it wasn’t the chain that gave out first, it was my body. I slumped, panting loudly. I failed her. Tears rolled down my cheek as the fat man pumped away atop my wife. Mary’s screams were daggers in my soul.

I failed her!

“Mark,” the chiming, ethereal voice whispered. “Awaken.”

Everything seemed to dissolve and then blow away as the melodic voice rang out. Brandon, Mary, the chains holding me down; all swept away. Even the pain was gone. My awareness returned to me and I exhaled in relief. This was a nightmare. I was asleep on the hard cot back in the jail.

I remembered thinking of Azrael as I fell asleep. I wanted to summon the Angel of Death to my dreams. She was the only one who could teach me how to harness the power of the Gift Tiffany gave me.

I turned to see Azrael standing behind me. Her hair was red as blood, floating about her fierce face; her skin gleamed as bright as burnished bronze, and she was clad in a robe of the purest white. Concern painted her face; her scarlet eyes strangely soft.

“Hello, Mark,” she greeted tenderly.

“I am ready to learn.”

She nodded. “The Gift manifests differently between men and women. For you, it gives peak physical strength, endurance, and reflexes for a man of your size. You can take more injuries and still function. A man without the Gift surely would have died from the beating you sustained. Your powers are geared to fighting the supernatural. Your primary ability is the Chereb prayer.”

“Chereb,” I whispered and jumped in surprise, dropping the gold blade that appeared in my hand. The moment I released it, the blade vanished into a thousand tiny, golden motes.

“Chereb, as you have noticed, conjures a blade of Celestial Gold, the weapon of an Angel. Sharp as a razor, but only capable of harming spiritual bodies,” Azrael explained. “Angels, demons, spirits, monsters, homunculi.”

“And how will that help free me?” I demanded, angrily. “Hell, the son of a bitch ripped my tongue out. I can’t even summon the sword if I wanted to.”

“It won’t,” Azrael answered, a hint of steel chiming in her voice. “But, once you are free, you may need this. The second basic prayer is Choshen. This will gird you in Angelic Armor, which is proof against most spiritual attacks. But it is not invulnerable. It also serves well against mundane attacks.”

I was growing more and more impatient. “Teach me something useful, dammit!”

Her scarlet eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The third basic prayer is all internal. Just imagine your body as healthy and whole as it should be and you shall be healed. No words need to be spoken. But it takes time, a few minutes, and it will leave you vulnerable.”

“And restrained,” I muttered.

“So, bide your time, wait for the opportunity, and seize it,” Azrael hissed in anger, her face a thunderstorm of fury.

I flinched, taking a step back. “But, how can I create that opportunity?”

“There is one prayer, gifted only to Shamans,” Azrael answered, calming down. “Because I am the Angel of Death, you may pull back the veil and summon help. It is very dangerous, the dead will draw on your life-force. I do not know how long you could maintain the summons. A few minutes, a few seconds, but it may give you the opportunity.”

“How?” I asked, frowning.

“Tsalmaveth.”

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

Violet Matheson – Tacoma, WA

“Violet,” Loreena said, shaking me awake. “Something is happening.” She spoke with a slurred, stiff speech.

Yesterday, Loreena had saved me. She took me into her house and we spent the night huddled on her bed watching TV. Watching Brandon Fitzsimmons declare himself God. It was totally surreal. Master was getting beaten so viciously, and then the President of the United States himself arrived and surrendered the country to that horrible Brandon.

“This can’t be happening,” Loreena had said as she read the subtitles. She was deaf and Brandon’s powers did not seem to affect her. “How can the President just surrender?”

“Brandon’s evil,” I answered, facing her so she could read my lips. “He sold his soul for dark powers.”

We fell asleep on her bed – her bedroom TV muted – drawing comfort from each other as the world descended into madness. The night was full of unnatural sounds. Helicopters were constantly flying overhead and gunshots would ring violently out through the night. Every time I woke up, I would clutch Loreena and she would hug me just as tight.

Now it was Sunday morning and Loreena motioned me to come to the window, the rising sun filling her room with a soft light. I walked over and glanced outside and saw soldiers marching a woman to a truck. She was naked and I could see other women in the back of the truck. At the next house, soldiers were kicking in the front door. I could hear faint shouts and then I jumped from the crack of gunshots. A minute later, the soldiers dragged a sobbing teenage-girl out, then ripped her clothes off. God, it looked like they were laughing at the poor girl.

Depositing the naked girl in the truck, the soldiers headed for the next houses on the street. My heart froze in terror. They were searching house to house, dragging out the women they found. And they were working their way to this house.

“We have to hide!” I shouted. Loreena ignored me as she stared out of the window in shock. I forgot she was deaf, so I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face me. “We need a place to hide.”

Loreena gaped at me, her eyes full of disbelieving horror. Yesterday, US Soldiers didn’t break down your door and drag you off. But that was before the world changed. Loreena glanced out the window, then took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed my hand and led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She pushed on some paneling on the wall below the stairs and it moved, revealing a crawlspace beneath the stairs.

I nodded to her and mouthed, “This would work.”

We both squeezed in, pulling the panel closed. It smelled musty, and cobwebs clung to my hair. I was too scared to care about that, too scared to wonder where the spiders were that made all these webs. We sat down, and leaned against unfinished wood and waited. My heart was thundering in my chest as I strained to hear what was going on. I wished I had a watch or something, to tell how long we had been in here. It felt like an eternity as we waited in the dark, straining to hear anything.

What was taking the soldiers so long? I was starting to feel sick in my stomach as I waited. The stress was too much. Please, just let them search the house and move on. I wasn’t sure how much more of this interminable waiting I could take. I tried to count my breaths, my heartbeats, anything to try and give me an idea of how much time was passing by.

Maybe the soldiers weren’t coming? How long could I wait in here? Had it been minutes or hours? I swallowed, wondering if maybe we should slip out and check. We could be real quick—pop out, peer out the window, and pop back into our hiding spot. The soldiers would never know. I was reaching for the panel, preparing to push it open.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I jumped in surprise, someone was pounding hard on the front door. The soldier hammered again, paused, then hammered a third time. “Open up!” a man shouted. “Open up in the name of your God! All Citizens are required to submit to searches!” He banged again. “Last chance, then we’re breaking the door down and executing whomever we find!”

There was a splintering crash, then booted feet pounded through the house. Dust fell down into my face as they raced upstairs, tickling at my nose. Oh no. I clasped my hand over my nose, trying to ignore the growing, tickling sensation. One of the soldiers was searching the first floor, the other the second. More dust trickled down and I could feel the sneeze building. Please no! Not now! The sensation was growing unbearable. Any second I would sneeze and they would find us and kill us. I fought it, suppressed the ticklish urge.

Achoo!

I jumped as Loreena sneezed, and fear surged coldly through my veins. Everything seemed to be quiet all of a sudden. Were the soldiers listening? Did they hear Loreena’s sneeze? They must be straining, trying to figure out where that sneeze had come from, looking for the place where we were hiding. I squeezed Loreena tightly, felt her heart thudding in her chest.

“Clear!” one soldier yelled from upstairs.

A soft moan came from Loreena and I could feel her trembling. She was deaf. She didn’t know what was happening. It was too dark in here for her to see my lips, to let me tell her to be quiet, that everything was okay. Her moan was growing louder; she was going to give us away. I had to silence her.

I kissed her.

Her lips were soft and moist. I could feel her tense in shock. She tried to pull away, and I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her tight, thrusting my tongue deep into her lips. I felt her start to relax; start to kiss me back.

“Clear!” the other soldier yelled back, and then the booted feet were stomping down the stairs and they were out of the house.

I kept kissing Loreena, our passions growing. All the stress of the last twenty-four hours melted away as I kissed this beautiful, kind woman. My hands reached out and found the cotton nightgown she was wearing, and I started hiking it up. She rose up and I pulled it over her ass. I rubbed at her pussy beneath her panties, feeling the soft hair and the growing wetness.

Her hands started touching me. I wore a borrowed nightgown and I helped her pull it up my body. I wore no panties and her fingers gently touched my bald, teenage cunt. I moaned into her mouth, enjoying her uncertain touch as she stroked my flushed vulva. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, stroking her silky pussy hair and finding her snatch dripping wet.

Loreena moaned into my lips as I gently stroked her clit. I shifted, turning to face her and scissoring my legs with hers. I scooted closer and closer until our pussies kissed. I started writhing my hip, sliding my wet pussy along her furry muff. It felt so good to forget about everything that had happened and lose myself in the pleasure of this woman.

She started humping me back and I broke the kiss to lean back on my elbows and really started to trib her. “Umm, your cunt feels so soft on mine!” I moaned, forgetting that she was deaf as my orgasm built inside me. “Fuck me! Yes, yes! I need this!”

Loreena was moaning just as loud, but wordlessly, a pure sound untainted by language. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out her form as she writhed in pleasure. One of her hands had pushed up her nightgown and fingered her nipple. Pleasure blossomed within me, every time my clit rubbed against her pussy it grew and grew.

“Yes! I’m coming! Oh, Loreena! Sweet Loreena, your pussy’s driving me wild!”

Loreena’s moans grew shrill and I could feel moisture flooding my pussy as her orgasm exploded through her. I shuddered a few more times, then stopped pumping my hips, breathing heavily. I leaned over, captured her lips with a gentle kiss, and hugged her tight. I tried to hold onto this happy, satisfied feeling.

But the fear and stress was bubbling back up.

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

Mary Glassner – Toulouse, France

It was late at night in France when we arrived, landing in Toulouse. Back home, it was Sunday afternoon, and I was told that all the footage from America was Mark getting beaten for the second day, interspersed with clips of the President surrendering to Brandon. I kept sending Mark supportive thoughts, letting him know that I had a plan, that I was coming for him.

I wasn’t going to let my husband down.

The eighteen hour trip to France had seemed to drag on and on. I couldn’t sleep, I could barely eat. All I could do was fret and stare out the window or open my locket that Mark gave me on the day I met him. It was silver, heart-shaped, with a pink rose sculpted into the front. It was absolutely gaudy, not at all something that I would have chosen for myself.

It was my favorite piece of jewelry after my wedding ring.

Inside were pictures of Mark and I. It comforted me on the interminable flight to open it up and stare at my husband’s face, stroking the tiny photo with a finger, and weep.

We barely made it out of the US; air travel was suspended as we took off from LaGuardia. We had to stop for fuel before crossing the Atlantic, and we had just gotten airborne when the order was given. Luckily, shutting down the Nation’s airspace takes time and we were able to slip out over the ocean without anyone stopping us.

The last five hours of the flight were the worst. That’s when they started beating Mark again. Every time my husband sent me a thought, I could feel the agony he was experiencing through his sending. I do not know how he is able to withstand it. Just the shadow of his pain was enough to make me cry. Somehow, despite the beatings, he told me about his dream, and what he learned from Azrael. He could conjure magical weapons and armor, he could heal himself, and summon the dead.

When we landed in Toulouse, France, transportation was waiting. I had made calls ahead of time to arrange for several vans and a police escort. The drive to Rennes-le-Château – a small, ancient village built atop a rocky hill that rose black out of the countryside – took maybe an hour. The only way up the cliff was a winding, narrow lane. Behind the Church of Mary Magdalene lay the Motherhouse of the Nuns that had twice attacked us. Both buildings were ancient, made of vine-covered stone pitted with age.

Silently, the SWAT officers slipped out of the vans in their black nomex, MP5s in their hands, and they quickly surrounded the Motherhouse. Meanwhile, the bodyguards formed a perimeter around the two buildings, supported by the French police. I leaned against the van, the September night air cool on my naked flesh. I never got a chance to get dressed, other things were just more important.

Five of the former SWAT officers stacked on the front door. They gave each other hand-signals, then opened the front door and moved quickly inside. Through the small, stained-glass windows, I could see their flashlights shining around as they searched the building. 47 leaned against the van next to me and squeezed my hand, smiling reassuringly at me.

After what seemed like an hour waiting in the cold, one of the SWAT reappeared and motioned to us. 47 formed a guard of four around me and we marched over to the SWAT officer. It was Duncan, who commanded the SWAT for us.

“Ma’am, we have a woman in custody,” he reported. “We found her in the basement. If you would follow me, please.”

“She was hiding?” I asked as he led me inside.

“No, she is waiting for you,” Duncan answered. “We found her just calmly sitting in this metal room, a pot of tea steaming on the table before her and two cups. There was not a hint of fear in her eyes.”

We walked through the narrow corridors then down a tight, narrow staircase into the basement. I shook with nerves. You can do this, Mary, I reassured myself. She is one woman and you have fourteen armed men and women immune to her powers, and there are more waiting outside.

In the basement, we walked past old cardboard boxes, reeking of mildew, stacked against one wall. At the far end was a black metal door carved with strange symbols. Inside, I could see a woman in a gray nun’s habit, a simple, white veil covering her head, sipping calmly from a cup of tea. She looked up at me and I froze; her dark eyes were ancient, far beyond the youth of her face.

Who was this woman?

Mom said she was a legend, over a thousand years old. Karen said she had been waiting two thousand years for this moment. I steeled myself and entered the room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it was black metal carved with the same strange symbols as the door. I froze, licking my lips. This was wrong. I should be running out of here. How can she be so calm? She must know what I am, what my soldiers are. She should be terrified, or at the very least nervous.

So why is she so calm?

“Would you like some tea?” she asked pleasantly in a thick, French accent. Her face was dusky, a warm and friendly smile graced her red lips, and dark hair peaked out from beneath her veil. She looked Middle-eastern, a little like our former slut Thamina.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I swallowed, glancing at 47. There was worry in her eyes. She sensed something was wrong, too. This woman was unnaturally calm. I glanced at the men guarding her and I could see the tension in their eyes, their guns readied in their hands. How are we all intimidated by this one, unarmed woman?

“Well, child, are you going to come in and sit down?” the woman continued. “I would like to talk with you. It is very important.”

“Fine,” I said, and sat down on the hard, wooden chair. She grabbed the porcelain teapot and poured me a glass of a spicy-smelling tea. I took it, sipping, then froze. What if she put something in it?

An amused smile flitted across the woman’s lips. “It is not poisoned or drugged, I assure you. Can you close the door so we may speak privately?”

I frowned, “No, my guards stay in here.”

“They are not the prying ears I care about,” the woman answered. “Please, I have much to tell you.”

I wanted to say no. I wasn’t here to talk, I was here to steal her Gift. Mark was getting beaten right now. There wasn’t time to waste on talking. And yet, her eyes were so ancient, so wise, I swallowed and found myself nodding my head. I did need something else from her, besides her Gift.

“I will close the door, if you hand over your copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor,” I told her. This entire mess was caused by Brandon getting ahold of that damned book. If we survived this mess, we needed to get our hands on the two copies that we didn’t have. No-one else could learn about it and use that knowledge against us.

“Alas, I do not have it,” she answered.

“Don’t lie to me!” I snapped. “I know it is here.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Wikipedia,” I answered. I felt foolish when I said that out loud.

She shrugged. “Feel free to search the place once we’re finished. But it is gone. I could not let you get your hands on it.”

I frowned. “I already have a copy of the book.”

“Copies are not the original,” she answered. “I have no idea where it is hidden now.”

What did that mean? The original must have something unique in it. Something dangerous. “Fine, humor her and close the door. Let’s hear what she says to try and stop me.”

“I cannot stop you from stealing my Gift,” she answered matter-of-factly.

The door closed with a metallic clang. “Who are you?” I asked. She was a Nun, I could see the golden aura about her. “Are you the Mother Superior?”

“I am Maryām,” she answered. “Once of the town of Magdala.”

My family was Irish; my dad was a lapsed Catholic, but I had been to a few masses. My heart skipped a beat. “That’s impossible.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “For two thousand years I have fought ha-Satan, the Adversary. I have learned much and more. I have this one warning for you, Mary. You and Mark are his pawns. Everything you do brings about his freedom from the Abyss. Him and all those bound with him.”

“You mean the Devil?” I asked and she nodded. “He is trying to escape Hell?”

“It is inevitable at this stage,” Maryām sighed. “The Supernatural has been revealed to the World. False Gods are once more being worshiped. The Evil of the days of Noah walks the world once more. It doesn’t matter if it’s you and Mark, or Brandon, or another pawn. Everyday, more and more people are deceived. The Prison is so weak, only one last event is necessary to bring it crumbling down.”

“Why are you telling me this? If it’s inevitable.”

“The Adversary can be contained, the damage done to the world can be mitigated,” Maryām answered. “You and Mark are lesser evils compared to the Adversary. I have read the future, I have seen the subtlety of his plan. If you and Mark defeat Brandon, Lilith will confront you and be killed. Her death will be the final blow that springs the lock, and the Adversary will be freed.” She took a sip. “If you are ready when Lilith dies, you may trap him.”

I swallowed. Mark and I had wondered what the Devil’s plan was, why he had given Mark Lilith’s gem. So this was it. To escape Hell. And what would happen once he was freed? Lilith clearly hates humans, but what about the Devil? And all those other demons trapped in Hell; do they hate us just as much? A chill ran down my spine.

What have we done?

“How can we trap him?” I asked, shaken by her words.

“I do not know. Search the old writings.”

“Old writings?”

“The Creator in his infinite Wisdom saw that many ancient works were preserved at Qumran.” She took one last sip of her tea. “This room, study it carefully. It is a Matmown. A Hidden Place. No spiritual being can pierce through its walls. The Adversary cannot spy on you here or accurately predict your future. What you plan in here will forever be hidden from him. It is the only advantage you will have. Your Vizier, Samnag Soun, should have no trouble re-creating the room. Never speak of your plans outside of this room, not even telepathically through the Siyach spell. Those thoughts pass through the spiritual realms and can easily be plucked out of the Ether. Only in a room like this are your plans truly safe from him.”

Maryām stood up suddenly and all my guards aimed their guns at her. She laughed, and to my surprise, she started stripping off her clothes. Her veil came off first, revealing her luxurious, dark hair. Then she untied the belt cinching her gray habit and pulled the robe off her body. She was naked underneath; her breasts were large, with dark nipples, and her stomach flat. She had curvy hips, and a thick, dark bush grew between her legs.

“So, you are the whore after all,” I laughed, drinking in her beauty.

Maryām grimaced, “I was never a whore. A sinner, yes, but never a whore. That was Pope Gregory I’s mistake. Men ever love salacious rumors and that one has dogged my reputation ever since.”

“Then why are you getting naked?” I asked.

“You plan on stealing my Gift. I know what that entails.”

The Ganubath ritual was the opposite of the Nun’s exorcism. I needed to bring Maryām to an orgasm, and when she cums, I would steal her Gift for myself. Maryām laid down on the cold metal floor, spreading her legs. I knelt down before her. I realized that I hadn’t had sex in over twenty-four hours. Since I met Mark, the only long stretches without sex were when I slept. Seeing her lying naked and willing, I felt my own pussy stir with arousal.

I knelt down. Her pubic hair was matted with her juices and I could smell her honey. I rubbed my face through her silky pubic hair, enjoying the way it tickled against my skin. I breathed deeply, then licked at her slit. Maryām moaned in pleasure. I spread open her slit, exposing the wet, pink flesh and buried my face into her lips.

I ate her quickly, devouring her tasty juices. I needed to get her off as fast as I could. Mark was waiting. I ran my tongue up her labia, my fingers gently circling her clit. Then I shoved my tongue as deep into her as I could.

Maryām was moaning something. It wasn’t French. It sounded like Hebrew, maybe. Or Aramaic. Her hips were starting to writhe. I drank her thick juices, sweet as honey, then slid my lips up to suck on her hard pearl. My tongue circled her clit as I slipped two fingers inside her pussy. She was tight and hot as I quested for her G-spot.

She cried out loudly when my fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves. Her orgasm crashed through her, flooding my lips. “Ganubath!” I screamed.

Golden power flowed out of Maryām and poured into me. It filled me, sinking into every single inch of my body, into my soul. I cried out, an orgasm exploding inside me. The power was so pure, so beautiful, that it left me trembling on the floor. I picked myself up, looking down at the panting Maryām. No longer was her aura gold. It was silver. She was just a regular woman now. Her eyes stared up at me, lidded with lust. When I made my Pact, I wished that every woman who saw me would desire me, and it was clearly working on Maryām now that the protection of her Gift was gone.

Exultation flooded me. I did it! I could stop Brandon. All I had to do was fuck him and this would be over.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 38.

Hey Everyone

I found this pic today, and just wanted to share it with you.

tumblr_n1axld5k5O1r1al25o1_1280

Aren’t they all so beautiful. They’re wishing all of you a wonderful day!

Hard at work on the Devil’s Pact; the first edit on Chapter 37 was finished on Tuesday.

The poll is still going on what to release after Chapter 38. Right now ‘Ms. Blythe is Hot for Her Students’ is winning with four votes, but The Ghost of Paris and The Number One Rule of Retail are trailing in second with two votes apiece. Still plenty of time to get your vote in here.

Take Care

J.

The Devil’s Pact Update – 2-16-14

Hey everyone,

Chapter 37 off with my editor. I added two new pics to the Characters Pictures Page: Fiona and 51.

I started a tumblr and twitter account, links are on the sidebar if you want to follow. Expect beautiful, naked women on the tumblr account. There are also buttons to share to social media if you want found at the bottom of posts.

There is a new poll on what to release after Chapter 38. Currently a four-way tie.

Alison and Desiree Get Married, a lovely chapter that includes an appearance by Alison’s father, as well as some information on the Living Church. Mf, FF Ff, MFf, incest, strap-on fun Currently 1 vote for this story.

The Lesbian Cuckold, a fun take on the cuckold story involving two lesbians. A Tale of the Best Buy Incidents. Contains FF, MF, cheating, cuckold.

“The Number One Rule of Retail Chapter 3”, How will Kevin respond when he finds out what his new girlfriend has been doing in the Best Buy bathroom. Contains MF, anal, prostitution. Currently 1 vote for this story.

“The Ghost of Paris Chapter 3: The Lionesses”, The weekend is over, and the Ghost’s favorite girls to watch, the Boone High Varsity Cheerleaders, are about to have a practice they will not forget. I wrote dirty parodies of cheerleader cheers for this chapter. Contains Mf, Mff, and ff. Currently 1 vote for this story.

“Tiffany Wants a Nooner”, back in Chapter 35, Tiffany mentioned visiting her husband at work and finding him in middle of a very intimate student-teacher conference. Contains a MFf threesome, anal rimming, and creampie.

“Jonathon’s New Wife”, this is a story I meant to write for months. Way back in Chapter 10, Mark robbed his first bank, and ordered the teller he fucked to be a good, submissive wife to her husband; Jonathon is about to have all his fantasies fulfilled. Contains bondage, MFF threesome, and Noel makes a pre-sex slave cameo.

“Ms. Blythe is Hot for Her Students”, last year, when Mark visited the high school in Mark Goes Back to School, he had Ms. Blythe bend over her desk and let all the virgin boys in her class fuck her. Now it’s the start of the new year, and getting fucked by her male students is all this hot teacher can think of. Contains mF, Ff, and watersports. Currently 1 vote for this story.

Take care everyone

J.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 36: The God-King

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 36: The God-King

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Female/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, 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 35.



Saturday, September 28th, 2013 – Mark Glassner

I watched in stunned horror as the US soldiers opened fire on the Tacoma Police blockading the street in front of the courthouse. The soldiers had just roped out of a pair of hovering Black Hawk helicopters, attacking the police blockading the stretch of Tacoma Avenue in front of the Courthouse. As the soldiers spread out, I shouted orders into the microphone; my voice boomed out of the speakers placed around the square.

The soldiers ignored my commands.

A chill spread through me. They ignored my commands. I could see the black of their auras wreathed in the faintest red. They were Thralls under the protection of the Zimmah ritual, bound to some other Warlock. They were immune to my powers. Exactly the same way we made our family and sluts immune to anyone else’s orders.

Fuck! This was very bad!

There was a whirring sound, like a motor revving up, then a terrific roar and a gout of flame erupted from the side of one of the hovering Black Hawks. The mini-gun fired; I watched in horror as its bullets ripped through the police blockade. A second whirring sound built, and the other helicopter opened fire on the opposite police blockade. Golden tracers streaked down, raining death on the Tacoma police officers.

“Sir, let’s go!” 51 shouted, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the courthouse.

The crowd in front of the courthouse screamed in panic and ran for cover. My bodyguards formed a protective circle around me, dragging me back into the courthouse. They pulled Violet and Desiree into their circle of protection and herded us through the courthouse. I struggled to think but panic froze my thoughts. Soldiers bound to my enemy were attacking me. I was not prepared for this.

Holy shit! I was not prepared for this!

“Where are we going?” I asked, finally gathering some of my wits.

“The back of the Courthouse, on Yakima Avenue,” 51 answered. How did she sound so calm? “We parked the limo and our patrol cars back there, remember?”

“Right,” I nodded. We raced through the courthouse and I struggled to think despite the adrenaline that pounded through my veins. We were under attack by US Soldiers. We were not prepared for this. They could be coming for Mary, I realized; my eyes opened with horror.

They could be coming for Mary.

“51, Fallen Eagle!”

51 glanced at me, nodded, and pulled out her Nextel. They were similar to radios, but worked over the cell phone network. All of our bodyguards had one. “51 to all units, Fallen Eagle. I repeat, Fallen Eagle.”

Fallen Eagle. The code phrase for the worst case scenario—the hammer is falling and we need to get the hell out of Dodge.

Ever since the Nuns attacked us three months ago, I had been preparing for another attempt. The bodyguards had their instructions to get everyone they could to safety. In Kansas I had a bolthole prepared; a place where we could regroup and figure out how to face this new threat.

“47, copy Fallen Eagle.” 47 was with Mary back at the house; she would get my wife to safety.

Squad D reported in with Shannon and George in Chicago. Squads E and F, guarding our planes, also responded. Now we just had to move quickly and we might just be able to escape and figure out how to deal with this new, overwhelming force. We rounded a corner, and I could see the limo idling outside, the passenger door open and Leah waiting nervously, looking up at the sky.

“Hurry!” Leah shouted as we burst outside, beckoning urgently with her arm.

The moment we stepped outside sounds crashed into us. I could hear sirens coming in from every direction. 51 wore a police radio patched into Tacoma PD’s network, and I could hear the frantic calls for help from police officers completely outmatched by the soldiers. The roar of helicopters and gunshots echoed through the streets. Shadows passed overhead; I glanced up to see more Black Hawks escorted by smaller helicopters, black against the blue sky.

Holy shit! Did someone take control of the entire fucking army? Holy fucking shit!

I practically threw myself into the limo, followed by a crying Violet and a wild-eyed Desiree, her big tits flopping about as she dived in. Violet clung to me as 51 jumped in. Leah ran around, hopping into the driver seat. With an AR-15 clutched in her hand, 09 jumped into the passenger seat, while 32, also armed with an AR-15 piled in back with us.

What’s going on, Mark? Mary’s thought practically shouted in my mind.

Soldiers attacked the rally, I sent back, trying to keep my terror out of my sending. I’m okay; we’re in the limo and driving off. The soldiers are Thralls, protected with the Zimmah spell!

Oh my god!

The limo peeled out, following two of our bodyguard’s cop cars. Two more followed. They took the left at 9th Street, heading up to the top of the hill and away from the firefight at the courthouse. Relief washed through me as I stared through the rear window. I could see the soldiers at the intersection of 9th and Tacoma Ave, occupying the ruins of the police blockade. None followed us.

I sighed in relief. It looked like we were clear.

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

Mary Glassner

“Umm, that feels nice, Mom,” I moaned as she lapped at my pussy.

I was feeling better after the bout of morning sickness I had. Mom had shown up and we started playing with the fruit Mark had left for me before he went to the gun-buyback rally in Tacoma. I would have gone with him but I had a rough morning. I rubbed my stomach, excited to be pregnant, and hating all the little inconveniences it brought on.

After spending most of the morning vomiting, I decided to skip the rally and take a nap. I woke up refreshed and famished when Mom came in to check up on me. Then we started having so much fun eating strawberries and pussy-cream, and I ate an entire peeled banana out of Mom’s cunt. We made a mess, but that’s why we had a washing machine.

Mom’s tongue felt amazing on my pussy and I was getting closer and closer to an orgasm, when I heard footsteps racing up the stairs. I sat up on my elbows, looking at the bedroom door, frowning. What was going on out there? Mom stopped licking at my pussy, and sat up as the door burst open and 47 raced towards me, her light-brown hair streaming behind her.

“Ma’am, we need to go right now!” the second-in-command of our bodyguard shouted. “Fallen Eagle!”

My mind went blank with panic. She grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me to my feet. Two more bodyguards were right behind her and one grabbed my mother. She said Fallen Eagle; that was the code used if something really, really bad has happened. Fear clutched at my stomach as 47 tried to pull me out of the room. Oh God, only Mark or I could give that command.

“We need to go, ma’am!” 47 insisted.

“My locket!” I cried. Fallen Eagle meant that we were abandoning our home. We might never get to come back. I couldn’t leave without my locket; Mark gave it to me the day we met. Next to the wedding ring on my finger, it was the most important thing I owned. I ran to my dresser and opened my jewelry box, pulling out the silver heart with the pink rose sculpted on the front. I quickly pulled it over my head to let it dangle between my breasts along with my protection amulet. Then I let 47 drag me out of the room.

I concentrated, using our new communication spell, and sent my panicked thoughts to Mark, What’s going on, Mark? Mark’s reply sent ice flooding through my veins; a Warlock attacked Mark with soldiers bound by the Zimmah ritual. My heart hammered in fear. What could we do against Thralls that we couldn’t use our powers on? And he said soldiers. God, that’s like the SWAT attack last June on steroids!

We raced out of the house, and the street bustled with activity. Some of the bodyguards were watching vigilantly, AR-15s in their hands, while the rest were herding our family and servants out of their houses and piling them into the fleet of black SUVs we owned. One of the SUVs was waiting in the driveway, and I jumped in along with my mom. Lillian, Xiu, and Korina piled into our SUV and the rest of our sluts piled into a second vehicle.

In just a few minutes, everyone who lived in the neighborhood – our sluts, our families, and our important servants – were loaded into SUVs and we were off. The plan was to drive north, to Boeing Field in Seattle. Our Gulfstream was too well known. Any enemy attacking us was sure to try and seize it or stop us from reaching it. Julius Prescott III, a billionaire we knew, owned a freight airline known as Air-Cargo, and we arranged for a hangar of his at Boeing Field to be set aside to house a 747 airplane. Hopefully, our enemy did not know about this plane.

In five minutes, we were clear of our neighborhood, driving north at breakneck speed. I could hear all sorts of chatter on 47’s police radio and on the Nextel. “What’s going on?” I asked 47.

“A Police Tactical alert has just been issued,” 47 answered. “There are reports of US soldiers setting up roadblocks around Tacoma, and a convoy of Strykers is rolling up 512 towards South Hill. They’re running cars off the road, ma’am.”

“Strykers? Those are armored tanks, right?” I asked in fear.

“Armored personnel carriers, ma’am,” 47 corrected. “Not as heavily armored as a tank, but just as dangerous. Squad E has abandoned the Gulfstream. They saw several Black Hawks flying towards Thun Field.”

Please let them not know about our other plane, I begged silently. Please!

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

Brandon Fitzsimmons

“My Lord Fitzsimmons, we’ve taken the courthouse,” Colonel Abbey said.

He was sitting right next to me, but the only reason I could hear him over the roar of the helicopter’s rotor was through the chopper’s internal intercom. We were in the Command Information Center, or CIC, Black Hawk, hovering high over Tacoma. I was wearing an uncomfortable helmet with headphones over my ears that blocked most of the Black Hawk’s rotor noise. Colonel Abbey was the G3, or operations officer, for I Corp and was coordinating the occupation of Tacoma.

“Do you have Mark?” I demanded.

I could almost taste my victory. Mark Glassner would soon be mine along with his wife, Mary. I would make her my concubine, force Mark to watch as his lovely wife became my whore. It was what he deserved for stealing my beautiful Desiree. I looked down at Tacoma, as we flew above it in the Black Hawk. The Army Rangers that had fast-roped into Tacoma were surrounding the courthouse as the Stryker Brigade barreled down the freeway to secure the city.

The main part of Tacoma was built on a peninsula that jutted out into Puget Sound. There were about a dozen roads that crossed the Nalley Valley that separated the peninsula from the mainland. If those streets were blockaded, the city would be cut in half and trap anyone on the peninsula, including Mark if he managed to escape the courthouse.

“My Lord, Chalk 2 reports a limo heading west on 9th Street with a police escort,” Colonel Abbey reported after a minute. If I remembered the briefing correctly, a chalk was a group of rangers deployed out of the same helicopter. Chalk 2 was tasked with taking the intersection of 9th Street and Tacoma Avenue.

“Damn it,” I snarled. “I want that limo stopped and everyone inside captured.”

“Absolutely, my Lord,” Colonel Abbey replied. “Bandit 1 and Bandit 3, do you have eyes on a limo heading west from the courthouse?” I couldn’t hear the reply; I was only listening to the helicopter’s internal comms, not the battle comms. Colonel Abbey nodded. “Disable the vehicle and provide support. Raider 3, head west and drop your chalk on that vehicle.”

Bandits were the Little Birds, small, agile helicopters armed with mini-guns that were quite deadly in urban operations. Raiders were the Black Hawks carrying a chalk of Rangers. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance, I thought with a smile.

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

Mark Glassner

The limo bounced around on Tacoma’s streets. The city had lost the war against potholes years ago, and the streets grew worse and worse every year. Leah must be doing nearly sixty as we raced away from the courthouse, and we were being thrown about in the back.

“Hold on!” Leah shouted, braking hard, and then the limo made a sharp turn onto Sprague Avenue and we were racing south.

Violet still clung to me, sobbing into my chest. “Shh, it’ll be alright,” I told her, stroking her brown hair. Though I wish I could believe that.

I heard the roar of a helicopter and I started looking up at the sky in fear. Violet buried her face into my chest at the sound. “Shit, it’s in front of us!” Leah shouted.

I bent down to look out the front of the limo and saw streaks of yellow raining down from the sky. Tracers, I realized, as the lead cop car seemed to explode in sparks, and careened off to the side of the road. The second cop car tried to swerve; a torrent of bullets shredded its trunk. The tracers marched quickly towards us; it sounded like heavy rain as the bullets struck the limo’s armor. The windshield splintered. Desiree was engulfed by blue light as her amulet deflected a bullet. The limo swerved suddenly to the left. There was the sound of metal crunching and I was flung forward, my seatbelt digging into my chest and waist.

What the fuck just happened? My mind was fuzzy and I groaned in pain. “We need to move,” someone shouted.

“Leah’s shot!” another person shouted.

“Shit!” Someone was shaking me. “Sir, we need to move!”

A Black woman’s face hovered in front of me, urgently speaking to me. It took me a moment to realize it was 51 and I blinked, looking around. There were dents and holes in the roof of my armored limo. In the front seat I saw Leah slumped over the steering wheel, blood staining her back. The bodyguard in the passenger seat was struggling to open the passenger door. 51 pulled out her folding knife and quickly cut my jammed seatbelt.

“Leah,” I shouted, climbing across the limo and grabbing her. I concentrated on her being healed, and whispered, “Tsariy,” and red light engulfed her body. She convulsed. When the scarlet light faded, she sat upright, perfectly healed. Around her neck, the bronze amulet smoked, the protection spell overwhelmed by the helicopter’s mini-guns.

“We need to go, sir!” 51 shouted, grabbing me and pulling me out of the limo.

We had crashed into a traffic light, the metal pole bent and fallen across the top of the limo. The hood was torn to pieces and white smoke curled serpentine up into the air from the engine block. Metal scars and pockmarks littered the body of the limo where the armor had withstood the mini-gun’s fire. I looked for our escorts and saw the twisted remains of the four cars. The helicopter’s guns had shredded them into mangled mockeries of a car.

Two bodyguards were crawling out of the mangled mockeries – their amulets must have saved their lives – but the other four must be lying dead or dying in the wreckage of their cars. I started to run for the nearest one when 51 grabbed me and pointed up at the sky. Two small helicopters, both of which had large mini-guns slung on their sides by the landing skids, were banking around, and beyond them a Black Hawk was swooping towards us.

“Leah, Violet, and Desiree, scatter!” I shouted. “They’re after me, you might get away!”

09 led, running with her AR-15 out, heading down an alley between two buildings. I followed, 51 and 32 on either side with 18 and 27, the two survivors from the escorts, bringing up the rear. The downdraft from the Black Hawk slammed into us and kicked up stinging dust as it banked overhead. I saw the rope drop out the side of the helicopter; the soldiers began deploying.

“Shit!” 51 shouted. “Back, back!”

We turned and saw one of the small helicopters hovering at the mouth of the alley, cutting us off. There was a fence and someone’s yard to the right and I jumped, grabbing the top and easily hauling myself over. I was never more thankful for getting the Gift from Tiffany than right now. It gave me increased physical strength and stamina, and I was going to need every advantage I had to survive this.

51 followed me over the fence. Gunfire rang out and 32 was halfway over when a bullet bounced off her shielding. She made it over as the fence splintered from the gunfire. I could hear the remaining bodyguards returning fire in the alleyway, buying us time.

“Keep running!” 51 shouted.

I ran across the yard, glancing over my shoulder to see that damned helicopter dogging our steps. The pilot must be radioing our position. I reached the opposite fence, jumping up and quickly scrambling over. As I lowered myself on the other side, I froze. 32 had stopped, and was kneeling in the middle of the yard, aiming her AR-15 at the small helicopter. She started carefully firing at it, rounds striking the windshield of the helicopter. It pivoted smoothly, lining up its guns at 32.

“Run!” I shouted as 51 scrambled over the fence. “Run, 32!”

She ignored me. The only time the bodyguards could ignore my orders was to protect my life. Fire spat from the helicopter, clods of dirt exploded around 32. She kept calmly firing. Blue energy sprang up around her as the rounds struck her protective charms. For a second I thought she was going to be fine, then the spell was overwhelmed and the bullets ripped through her body.

One of her rounds must have hit something important, because the helicopter started pitching to the side. I could see the pilot inside struggling with the yoke. The copter drifted closer and closer to a tree. Branches flew as the blades dipped in, and then there was a woody thunk and a loud, splintering sound. The rotor blades disintegrated, throwing debris everywhere. The chopper spun in the air and slammed into a shed with a satisfying crunch of metal.

I started to climb back over; if I reached 32 before she died I could heal her. “She’s dead, sir,” 51 said as she grabbed my arm. “You’re not. Do not let her death be in vain.”

I cursed, and let go of the fence. We were out on a side-street and we could hear booted feet approaching. We cut diagonally across the street, racing for a small, brown house with a mossy roof. There were several cracking pops from behind us; suddenly everything around me went blue. My amulet just stopped a round, I realized. Adrenaline was screaming through my veins. There were more gunshots; I could hear bullets whizzing past and blue erupted around me a second time, a third time.

“Shit, the car!” I shouted, pointing at the beat up, gray Plymouth with red primer staining the hood. “The amulets won’t take much more gunfire!”

I slid down behind the Plymouth as gunfire pounded against the car; glass shattered and metal pinged with every bullet strike. My heart was hammering. I risked a glance around the car and saw the soldiers at the corner. Several were firing at us while others dashed across the street. Fire and maneuver, I think it was called. 51 shot back with her 9mm service pistol and the soldiers hit the dirt and returned fire, and 51’s amulet deflected two rounds.

I didn’t see an escape. There was no cover for twenty or more feet and there were just too many soldiers. Mary, I love you, I sent. I don’t think I’m getting out of this one.

No! I can’t lose you, Mark!

I swallowed. There was only one hope. Tiffany said Monks were fighters, that their powers were combat oriented. I was as physically strong as a man could be, with quick reflexes. If I charged them, maybe somehow I could defeat them. I hoped that the amulet might sustain a few more shots. I readied myself, took a deep breath, and burst out from the car and ran as fast as I possibly could, as fast as any Olympic sprinter. The distance between me and the soldiers disappeared rapidly.

The soldiers were startled by my sudden charge, but their training took over and they opened fire. The world turned blue about me as the amulet deflected another shot, and then I was on the first soldier. He rose, bracing himself as I slammed into him. He fell back hard, and I nearly lost my balance and fell with him. A second soldier leapt at me; we grappled.

I was stronger than the soldier, more agile, but I lacked any training. I didn’t know how to fight. The soldier did. I pushed him off of me and took a clumsy swing at his face. He easily grabbed my arm, did something with his hip, and I was flipping over him and falling on my back. I grunted, the wind knocked out of my lungs. The soldier pulled out his knife, and before I could react, it was pressed against my throat.

I froze.

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

Mary Glassner

I’m captured, Mare, Mark sent me, keep going. The Nextels are going to be compromised now. Keep going, be safe! I love you.

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. I’ll save you, somehow! I thought back. We’re racing to the airport. Just hang in there. I love you!

“47,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “Mark is captured. The Nextels are probably compromised.”

“I understand, ma’am,” 47 replied. Her hand shook as she picked up her Nextel. “47 to all units, communications no longer secure. I repeat, communications not secure.”

Then she tossed her Nextel out the window.

Mark was captured. My mom wrapped her arms around me, holding me to her and suddenly all my emotions were pouring out of me as I sobbed into her breast. She stroked my hair and rocked me gently, just like she did when I was a child.

“Oh, Mom, what am I going to do?” I cried.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “We will figure it out.”

In thirty minutes we reached Boeing field; I sobbed the entire way. We passed through the security gates and raced to the hanger. Our flight crew was waiting. Once we bought this plane, we moved our pilots, Joslyn and Lydia, here just in case.

Lydia was waiting outside for us. “Miss,” she greeted, her face pale with fright. Like all our close employees, Joslyn and Lydia were bound to Mark with the Zimmah ritual. “What is going on?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but more tears leaked out of my eyes and I couldn’t bring myself to say what happened. Mark was captured. What was I going to do? I just climbed on board and sat down in First Class, pressing my face to the cold window.

I love you, Mark, I thought to him. Stay strong! I will find a way to save you. I just wished I believed myself.

Love you, Mark sent back and I could feel his fear.

Everyone else was boarding. Mark’s mom Sandy squeezed my shoulder before she found a seat next to Betty, her girlfriend. My Dad and Mom sat next to each other. Mom was still naked from our lovemaking. Hell, I was too. There hadn’t been time to get dressed. All I had on was my wedding ring, my locket, and my protective amulet.

“It’ll be all right,” Missy, my younger sister, promised. She grabbed my hand, squeezed it, then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. Then she sat down next to her boyfriend Damien.

Mark’s sister Antsy and her girlfriend Via were the last of our family to board. Only Shannon and her fiancee were missing. But they were in Chicago attending a conference for George’s job. The sluts boarded next and Lillian sat next to me and hugged me.

“It will be okay, Mistress,” she whispered. I wished I could believe her.

We waited for Squad E. They managed to get clear of Thun Field ahead of those soldiers and arrived fifteen minutes after we did, piling into the plane. Lydia closed and sealed the door, then sat down in the cockpit. We started taxiing to the runway. The engines revved and roared louder and louder as the pilots throttled up for takeoff. Then I was shoved back into my seat, and my stomach sank as the plane raced down the runway and leaped into the air.

We’re in the air, Mark, I sent to him. Your mom and Antsy are with me.

Good! I could feel the relief in his thought. He was worried about me. I wanted to cry again. Why should he be worried? I wasn’t the one captured by our enemy. The plane banked, turning to take us to Kansas and the decommissioned missile silo that was our emergency bunker.

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

Mark Glassner

I felt relief wash through me. Mary and my family were safe; that was one less thing to worry about.

I lay facedown on the street, a soldier’s boot pressed into the back of my neck, the cold barrel of his M16 touching my cheek. My hands were zip-tied behind my back, a disgusting rag was shoved into my mouth and tied in place by a strip of cloth wrapped around my head. 51 lay next to me; the butt of a rifle had slammed into her face, opening a gash across her eyebrow.

“Up!” a soldier shouted and the one standing on my neck released me and hauled me to my feet.

Several tan Humvees rolled up. I saw 27 in the backseat of one of the Humvees and Desiree sat next to her. But I didn’t see Violet or Leah. Maybe they got away? Unless they were dead. I pushed that thought away as they forced me into the second Humvee. 51 was pushed in after me, her body leaning up against me. There was a dazed look in her eyes.

The Humvee drove off, heading back down to the courthouse. We passed columns of big, bulky armored vehicles bristling with weapons. Strykers, I think they were called, carrying infantry. More soldiers were guarding intersections; one would be manning a .50 cal machine gun while two more stood by holding M16s. Then we passed the wreckage of the firefight in front of the courthouse. Some of the soldiers were clearing away the shot up police cruisers, while others carried bodies to a waiting truck. And it wasn’t only dead police officers they carried, but civilians attending the gun-buyback that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

More civilians were sitting on their hands in the square before the Courthouse, watched over by dozens of soldiers. Some of the crowd looked scared, others were bewildered. They couldn’t believe that US Soldiers would attack them. That didn’t happen in America. That happened off overseas in some despotic country like Syria or North Korea. Not here. Not in America. A few had defiant looks on their faces, staring angrily at the Soldiers. Off to the side, the media were guarded by more soldiers, but they were being allowed to continue reporting. I could see all the cameras pointing at our convoy of Humvees, ready to broadcast my humiliation to the world.

And probably my execution, I thought bleakly.

The Humvees stopped in front of the courthouse, the door opened, and a soldier hauled me out. I saw his face. He was young, maybe eighteen, his eyes bright blue. There was a hard cast to his youthful features, his grip iron on my arm as he pushed me forward. I stood up straight as the eyes of the captured civilians fell on me. Shock and horror filled the faces of those that believed I was a God, then despair filled their eyes.

Guilt filled me. I had let them down. I wasn’t strong enough to protect them. But what could I do against an army? My greatest power was nullified by the Zimmah ritual. How could a Warlock put so many under his power? Every soldier I saw had their black aura fringed with a trace of red, the sign that they were bound by the spell. What could I do? What could Mary do? Despair crashed through my soul.

How was I getting out of this?

As we approached the courthouse the doors opened and a short, fat man in an expensive Italian suit, charcoal gray, stepped out. He was balding, his hair gray, and a look of triumph filled his eyes. I recognized him, Brandon Fitzsimmons. How the hell had Brandon bound anyone with the Zimmah spell? His mother was dead. A male Warlock needed his mother to perform the spell.

Brandon wasn’t alone. Flanking him were two women, scantily clad, that could almost be Mary’s long lost sisters. They were twins, with auburn hair and green eyes, and Mary’s heart-shaped face.

“Kneel before your God!” the soldier leading me barked and kicked me in the back of the knee. My leg folded out from under me and I fell painfully to my knees.

Brandon stepped up to the microphone. “I am Brandon Fitzsimmons!” his voice boomed through the speakers. “I have defeated the false God, Mark Glassner!” He paused, his words echoing through the air. “I am your God and King! Worship me! Obey me!”

I could hear the crowd behind me change as his commands sank in. I glanced behind me to see all the fear, the despair, the anger, melt away and awe replace it. They all had black auras and I could just make out a fringe of red. It was even worse than I could have imagined. He somehow was binding people to him without using the spell, just by speaking. I was immune to his powers; one of the benefits of the Gift.

Mary, the Warlock is Brandon Fitzsimmons. Do not listen to anything he says. You cannot afford to fall under his power. His words bind people with the Zimmah spell.

I let Brandon’s speech roll over me as Mary’s reply came back, What am I going to do, Mark? I need you. I feel like I’m falling apart.

You have to be strong, Mare, I told her.

How?

You’re the only hope we have. I need you. I love you. I know you can be strong! I believe in you! I had to. She was the only hope I had. And only if Brandon didn’t immediately execute me.

Why are you comforting me? I’m the one who’s safe. I should be comforting you. I could sense that she was calming down. I will find a way to save you, Mark. I promise!

Brandon was standing in front of me, I realized, and I defiantly stared up at him. “You’re immune to my powers, I see,” Brandon grimaced, then glanced at Desiree. “And my wife, too.”

“I’m not your wife anymore,” Desiree snarled. “I dumped you for someone better.”

Brandon smacked her with the back of his hand. “Quiet, woman. I’ll deal with you soon enough.” He turned to one of the soldiers, “Where’s his wife?”

“My Lord, two women escaped in the confusion, we are hunting them down,” the soldier reported. “I do not think either is Mary. Both appeared to be brunettes.”

“Dammit,” Brandon hissed. “Did you secure that Gulfstream of his at least?”

“Yes, My Lord,” an older soldier reported. He had eagles on his uniform so I think that made him a Colonel.

Brandon smiled, “Good, they’re trapped in the state. Our troops are heading for the passes?” The soldier nodded. He must mean the passes over the Cascade Mountains to Eastern Washington. “What about his house? Did you find anyone there?”

“Empty, my Lord,” the Colonel reported. “We missed everyone. The entire neighborhood was packed up.”

“Fuck! Burn the neighborhood,” Brandon ordered. “And that damned tent where his worshipers meet. Kill any who resist. Find where his servants went! You’ll find his wife with them.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the Colonel saluted.

Brandon turned to the crowd and took a microphone from one of the auburn-haired twins. “Here is your false God!” A boo rose up from the crowd. Just an hour ago these people cheered me; I never realized just how frightening my powers were. “He is only flesh and blood! He is weak and was defeated by the merest fraction of my power. Let me show you just how weak and human he really is!” He motioned to the soldiers.

The gag was cut off and two soldiers grabbed my head, prying my lips open. I fought, struggling to get free of their grasp, to close my mouth. A third soldier drew a knife. I struggled harder. What were they doing? I fought in vain to break free, to keep that glinting knife away from me. The third soldier forced his dirty fingers into my mouth, gripping my tongue. The blade flashed and blood filled my mouth.

“Master!” Desiree cried out, barely heard over the crowd’s roar.

Disbelief almost drowned out the pain. They had cut my tongue off! How could I use any of my powers without my tongue? I was thrown down onto my back; then the kicking started. Pain exploded in my back, my stomach, my legs. I curled up into a ball, trying to protect myself as booted foot after booted foot slammed into me.

I howled wordlessly in agony.

Over the pain, I heard Brandon’s voice roar, “Mary Glassner! Your husband will be abused day and night until you turn yourself in. Submit to me and be my concubine, and your husband shall go free!”

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

Mary Glassner

I was sitting in first class alone, save for my mom and little sister. I couldn’t stand everyone looking at me so I ordered them back to coach. Mom and Missy ignored me, sitting with me and holding my hands. Back in coach, they were watching the news. I was the only one that couldn’t watch it, the only one who couldn’t watch to see what was happening to my husband. Everyone on the plane but me was bound by the Zimmah ritual. I was the only one susceptible to Brandon’s power, and I could not afford to get bound to him.

I needed to be strong, for Mark, for our family. We were all dead if Mark died. My life was tied to his, our loved ones’ lives tied to ours. It all rested on my shoulders, and I felt like I was about to be crushed beneath the weight. How could I bear all this responsibility? I was only nineteen, barely an adult. My shoulders were just too slim to support this weight!

I thought of Mark, his boyish grin and deep-blue eyes. Mark needs me to be strong, to save him. I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. I pushed at the despair, forcing it back. We were all lost if I fell apart. There had to be a way out of this. Just stay calm and think, Mary.

But I couldn’t!

My mind kept drifting back to Mark. I would struggle, trying to focus, and an image of Mark being hit would fill my mind. Of Mark placed before a firing squad, shot dead. Of Mark getting hung. I would force the images away, and even worse ones would slip into my mind.

Dad walked up from coach, his presence dragging me out of my morbid thoughts. He looked haggard as he gazed at me. He swallowed, then opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. His long, red hair, streaked with gray, fell loosely about his shoulders, not pulled back into his usual ponytail. My stomach sank. “What, Dad?” I wearily asked.

“Mark’s on TV,” Dad said. “They’re beating him.”

“What else?” I asked, sensing Dad was holding back on me.

“You can’t go back,” Dad firmly told me.

“I know,” I said sadly.

“This Brandon, he says Mark will be beaten day and night until you surrender yourself to him and be his concubine.”

I felt hysteria bubbling up inside me, almost bursting out in a laugh. Of course; he wants to do to me what we did to Desiree. Mark humiliated Brandon that day, took his wife in front of him. He wants revenge.

Mark, I am going to save you! I sent, mustering all my confidence and determination.

I’m fine. Do not turn yourself in. I can take it. I could feel his pain; I wanted to cry, but I had done enough of that.

I won’t. I’m going to save you, somehow. Be strong, Mark! I looked at Dad, and ordered, “Get Sam.” I felt a steely resolve growing inside me; I will save Mark. We had the Book, the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. The answer must be in there, somewhere. A way to neutralize Brandon’s powers or give me more power or something.

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

President Baumgarten

“Mr. President,” Eustace Smyth, my Chief of Staff, said, holding up the phone. “He wants to speak with you.”

I frowned, watching the TV. They were still beating the despicable Mark Glassner. For the last few months my cabinet and I had argued what to do about him. He was a dangerous man, somehow corrupting anyone that came into contact with him. My cabinet was split; some championed Mark and his sexual politics, others thought he was the most dangerous threat to the US since the war of 1812, and should be assassinated. But that was illegal. I was the President of the United States, sworn to uphold the Constitution, sworn to obey the laws. I would not, could not, approve assassinating a US Citizen.

“Who’s on the phone?” I asked. The world had changed today. My new God, Brandon Fitzsimmons, had finally overthrown the false God Mark and was hunting down his wife, Mary.

“Him,” Eustace said with emphasis and I finally understood.

I snatched the phone from him. The moment Brandon had spoken during his press conference, it all became suddenly clear. Brandon was the true God and had soundly defeated the false one. No, Brandon wasn’t a God, he was the God.

My God.

“This is the President, my Lord,” I respectfully said.

I found myself to be suddenly nervous as I spoke to an actual God. I’ve spoken to almost every Head of State on the planet, knowing every time that I was more powerful than any of them. For the first time since I was elected President of the United States, I was the lesser power.

It was humbling.

“You shall fly to Tacoma with your cabinet and surrender the Country to me,” my God ordered.

“Absolutely, my Lord,” I answered. The phone clicked as my God hung up on me.

I was going to meet my God in person. I never thought it would happen while I was alive.

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

Mark Glassner

The beating seemed to go on for an eternity. An eternity of pain and suffering. This must be hell, I thought with bleak amusement. I sold my soul and my punishment was to be beaten by the followers of a man I wronged.

It was poetic.

I had used my powers for my own pleasures, not caring about the lives I hurt or destroyed. Mary was right to free our slaves, and to tell me not to break up relationships just because I was horny or feeling vindictive. I needed to be responsible with my powers.

I passed out sometime during the beating. The pain brought me back to consciousness. I lay on something hard, cold; the agony slowed my mind. I fought through the fog, struggling to move, to survey my surroundings. Metal clinked, digging into my wrists and ankles; they had manacled me hand and foot, and dumped me onto the floor of a jail cell. Two soldiers stood outside the bars, M16s grasped in their hands, uncaring eyes fixed on me, like I was an insect in a collection, pinned to a piece of cork.

My mouth was parched, and I spotted a sink. I struggled to move, desperate for water. The pain was excruciating just stretching my legs, the metal of the leg irons biting into my ankles, constricting my movement. I did not know why I was still alive. I think it was the Gift; a lesser man surely could not have survived. I grit my teeth, mustered the will to fight through the pain, and pulled myself across the rough floor. The metal sink was above me, and I tried to grab the rim with my right arm, momentarily forgetting the foot of steel manacling my wrists together. Grunting, I pushed myself up onto my knees, then grasped it with both hands, pulling myself up and staring at my reflection in the polished, stainless steel mirror.

My face was a bloody ruin, swollen so badly that I couldn’t recognize myself. I opened my mouth and saw the ruins of my teeth and inspected the damage: gums bleeding, shattered molars throbbing in pain, gaps where front teeth were missing. I was naked, I realized, except for the manacles biting into wrists and ankles. I didn’t even remember them stripping me naked, and blacks and blues and yellows covered my body. There didn’t seem to be any part of me that wasn’t bruised.

I cupped cold water in my hands, the chains rattling, and slowly sipped it tenderly, trying not to brush my swollen face. The shooting pain in my broken teeth increased as the cold water poured into my lips. I closed my eyes, and forced myself to keep drinking through the pain. I drank until my stomach felt ready to burst, then I stumbled to the cot.

We’ve landed in Kansas, Mary sent me as I curled up on the hard mattress, trying to get comfortable despite the metal restraining me.

Good. The beatings have stopped. I think I’m going to sleep.

I love you! Your filly is going to save you. There was such certainty in her voice.

I know you will. I sent with all the confidence I could muster to her, fighting back my despair. Mary was free. As long as she was, there was still hope. Love you.

All I could do was sleep. I was so exhausted. I closed my eyes and started to let sweet unconsciousness take me when I realized something. I had ignored my Gift, wanting nothing to do with the Heavenly Power. I could afford to ignore the power no longer. I concentrated, thinking of the Angel Azrael, as I drifted off into unconsciousness.

Summoning the Angel of Death to my dreams.

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

Mary Glassner

I stepped off the 747. We were in an airport in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. It was a decommissioned airfield from the Cold War called Osage Field. It was used to service Atlas E Missile Silos before they were decommissioned. Exactly like the missile silo we bought that was only a few minutes drive from here. Our bolthole. We used George to purchase all of this, under the cover of his frequent business trips.

A burly man with an MP5 awaited us, along with several women. More burly men guarded the perimeter. The man was Duncan Barber, one of the SWAT officers that attacked us back in June. He wasn’t to blame for the attack; none of the SWAT officers were to blame. They were under the Nuns’ control. Three of them had died, but the other nine had lived. Mark gave them the choice to go to prison or he could fake their deaths and put them to work. They chose freedom and work. So Mark and I fixed their broken relationships – it was our fault that they were broken – and relocated them and their families out here.

“Ma’am,” Duncan said. His aura was black, fringed with red. Everyone at this airfield and the missile silo were bound to Mark by the Zimmah ritual. This place was just too important to let anyone know about it, unless they were bound to us.

“Is it as bad as it seems, ma’am?” Kathanne asked. She was Duncan’s wife.

“Yes,” I sighed.

“What are you going to do, ma’am?” Duncan asked as he escorted me to the waiting SUV.

“I don’t know,” I wearily said. Sam and I dug into her translation of the Book, looking for some way to neutralize Brandon’s powers, or break the control he was exerting on people.

“Shame we don’t have a Nun,” Duncan said. “Isn’t Warlocks what they specialize in defeating?”

I stopped, looking at him. That was it, we needed a Nun.

“Sam, you said there was a spell that would allow a Warlock to steal a Nun’s powers?” I asked, hope blossoming in my chest.

“Yes, ma’am. The, um, Ganubath ritual,” Sam answered. “You need to find a Nun and capture her.” A smile appeared on Sam’s face, but it quickly vanished. “Where are you going to find one, though?”

I grinned at her. I knew only one place in the world that you could find a Nun. “Fuel the plane!” I snapped. “We need to leave as soon as we cast the Naba ritual.” I glanced at Sam and she swallowed.

“I’ll get started right away, ma’am,” she answered, her face pale.

I would be scared, too. It was dangerous to summon the dead.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 37.

Devil Pact Update 2-13-14

It is finished!!!!

Just wrote the epilogue to the Devil’s Pact. Still a lot of work to do to get the story ready for publication, but the rough drafts are done.

There are still Side-Stories, Ghost of Paris, Tales, and two other mini-series I plan on writing, but the main story is finished. When I started writing this story, I never thought it would get any response, and everyone has been very supportive. I want to thank my editor Master Ken, and a loyal reader named Corvus who has always given me great feedback.

Take care

J.

Laptop Death

My laptop died today. Luckily, it’s still under warranty by a month-and-a-half. Instead of booting, it just wants to beep, and I have to mail it off to Dell so they can repair it. So instead of writing the end of the Devil’s Pact, I had to spend an hour talking with customer service.

Don’t worry, I still have a computer, so this won’t affect any releases, and I didn’t lose any information (I have redundant backups), I just preferred to find a comfortable spot on the couch and write on that laptop.

Well, going to start on the final chapter today.

Take care,

J

The Devil’s Pact Update 2-9-14

Hey everyone,

Gotten some great feedback on Chapter 35. Chapter 36 is with my editor and we’ll get it to you guys as soon as it’s ready.

If you have any questions for Master Ken, my editor, he can be reached at
dionysus40@prodigy.net. He’s a great guy, teaching me about grammar and helping to improve my writing. As you may have noticed I use semi-colons now.

Nearing the completion of my rough draft for the main story. I’m writing the climatic chapter (hoping to finish it today), with two chapters for a denouement and a short epilogue.

Take care

J.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 35: The Storm

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 35: The Storm

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


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

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 34.



Friday, September 27th, 2013 – Mark Glassner

“Sir, I think I’ve finally figured out how this communication spell works,” Sam reported, her round, olive face filled with triumph.

Sam is our Vizier, and had been making amazing progress with the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. She had progressed beyond merely translating the Book, and actively applied the information to create new spells. Her most useful discovery was these amulets that could deflect bullets. And they weren’t the only enchanted items or spells she created, such as these incense sticks that when burned make people very biddable. Willow used them to molest pretty girls that came to our charity clinic, looking for biddable girls to serve us once our mansion was constructed.

It was a lazy Friday afternoon; Mary and I both needed to relax. The last week had been busy getting ready for the gun-buyback program in Tacoma tomorrow morning. I sat at my desk in our shared office. I split a desk with Violet, while Mary and Lillian shared another. Lillian sat at the other desk working on the website for my campaign. The slut was naked, and I admired the profile of her breast. Lillian is our webmaster; she had been going to school for an IT degree, and did the coding for the site while Mary, who was quite the artist, did the graphic designs. One of her paintings, Mount Rainier at sunrise, hung over my desk. I glanced at my wife as she happily painted away, wearing one of my buttoned-down shirts, and nothing else. Her long, beautiful legs appeared beneath the hem of the shirt, and her plump ass rippled beneath the fabric as she shifted her hips.

“Really, how?” Mary asked Sam, not turning away from her painting.

“I think the focus needs to be a pregnant woman,” Sam answered. “As you know, the spell works by using a living vessel as the connector between you.”

“Yeah, we tried it with my mom,” I said. “You said it had to be a mother. But that didn’t work.”

“Yes, because she wasn’t pregnant,” Sam nodded. “That’s the key. There was this tricky word…”

I waved her off before she could wander off into one of her explanations. “So, we just need a pregnant woman?”

“We could try my mom,” Mary suggested offhandedly. Tiffany and Mary found out they were pregnant within days of each other and both women had been ecstatic. “It won’t hurt the child, right?”

Sam shook her head. “No, the spell just requires the focus subject to already be intimately attached to someone. And there is no more intimate bond than a child growing inside a mother’s womb.”

“We could use Korina,” I suggested hopefully. We had three pregnant sluts at our disposal. “Or even Violet or April.”

Mary shook her head. “It’s time you bedded my mom, Mark. You’ve forgiven her for Chasity and now it’s time to accept her as your family.”

I glowered and opened my mouth to argue when I saw Mary look over her shoulder at me, a stubborn cast to her eyes. I sighed; it wasn’t worth fighting over. “Okay, okay, you win, Mare.”

“I always do.” Her grin was impish as she peered over her shoulder at me.

“Do you?” I asked her as I stood up and leered at her. “Maybe I should put that to the test.”

She gave a mock shriek of fear as I advanced on her and she fled the office with a laugh. I chased after her, catching a glimpse of her hair disappearing into the living room. I went the other way, into the kitchen. Desiree was cooking dinner, wearing a sexy maid’s outfit, while Alison perched naked on the counter, teasing her wife.

“Mi Rey?” Desiree questioned as I pushed past her.

I reached the dining room in time to see Mary’s laughing face as she realized I had cut her off. She turned to race back to the living room, but I caught her arm and pulled her to me. I wrapped my arms around her and pinned her gently against the wall. I stroked her face and stared into emerald eyes that flashed with desire.

“I guess I win,” I said.

“Umm, I guess so,” she purred, rubbing my chest. “I’m your helpless prisoner!” Her voice was thick with overacting. “Please, be gentle, you vile villain.”

I laughed at how corny she sounded. “Vile Villain?”

“Yes, the dastardly Mark, who makes every woman swoon with his manliness,” Mary continued, her hand stroking the front of my pants. “Hmm, his hard, throbbing manliness.”

I kissed my wife as her hands deftly undid my belt and pants, reaching in to pull my hardening cock out of my boxers. My hands found her plump ass, naked beneath the shirt. I picked her up, her lithe legs wrapping around my waist. Her green eyes stared into mine as she broke the kiss.

“I’m ready to give you your reward for winning,” she purred. “I’m all hot and wet, and more than ready for you.”

“My naughty filly,” I grinned as I lowered her onto me.

She guided my cock to the wet lips of her pussy. I felt my dick bump into her smooth vulva, slide across her slit, then push into her. We moaned together as my cock sank slowly into her tight, wet depths. She hooked her arms around my neck. Smiling wickedly, she started writhing her hips, sliding me in and out of her silky depths. I helped her, using my hands to pump her hips on my dick while I kneaded her plump ass.

“So tight, Mare,” I panted. “I love you so much!”

Mary gasped, “Ohh, I love you, too, Mark. Yes, fuck me hard! I need a cum so bad! Make your filly cum with your big cock!”

I started thrusting, meeting her writhing hips. My cock rubbed faster against her pussy’s walls as my wife hugged me tightly. Her breath felt warm on my neck and her lips wet as she started kissing and nibbling. I buried my face in the beautiful slope of her neck, licking up to her ear and sucking on her lobe. Her pussy tightened and she nibbled harder on my neck. Our flesh slapped together as we fucked each other harder and harder.

“Oh yes, I love your cock!” she panted. “Keep slamming it into me! Umm, you’re gonna make me cum! My horny stallion is fucking me so hard I’m gonna just explode!”

“Cum for me, Mare,” I whispered in her ear. “Cum on my hard cock. I love it when your pussy milks my dick!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mary cried and there was that delicious feeling of her cunt spasming upon me. “Give it to me! Spill your cum inside me, Mark! Umm, my pussy is hungry for your cream! Do it, stud!”

I shoved my cock hard inside her, reveling in the feel of her tight cunt, and exploded inside my wife’s pussy. “Oh, fuck!” I groaned as I shot three large blasts inside her. “That was a great reward, Mare.”

She sighed, still nuzzling at my neck. “It was great. Can you put me down; my arms are getting sore.”

I laughed and pulled out of her and set her down. “So, I guess you should go talk to your mom.”

“Oh, we can use one of the pregnant sluts,” Mary said in an offhand manner, “if you’re really against sleeping with my mom.”

I sensed a trap. “No, no, you’re right. I need to start accepting her as family, I guess.”

She kissed me on the lips. “Good. After dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing going on tonight.”

“There isn’t, Master,” Violet answered. I jumped, and saw Violet sitting at the dining room table, her laptop in front of her.

“Were you here the whole time?” I asked.

She grinned at me, looking mischievously cute with her young face and pigtails. “I was, and I had a delicious cum.” She held up her fingers, clearly sticky with her juices. “I had a great view of your yummy butt, Master. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I smiled at her.

Dinner was delicious, as always, and I enjoyed a great blowjob from Korina as I ate. The sluts always took turns sucking my cock and eating out Mary’s pussy during meals. Mary enjoyed a nice orgasm from April. Tonight, Desiree made a delicious lamb shish kebab and a rice pilaf. After everyone finished, the sluts cleared the table and Desiree brought out a delicious apple pie for dessert.

“Master,” Jessica said as she returned to the room. She had slipped out while dessert was being served. “There is something strange going on in Seattle.”

She slipped into my lap, her caramel breasts jiggling as she moved. I gave her a kiss, and tweaked a dark nipple and she giggled. She sat a manilla folder on the table and opened it. I saw a picture of Mayor Erikson, the mayor of Seattle, and a woman with purple hair getting out of a limousine. I had met Erikson last month at a meeting of state mayors in Spokane. He was very supportive of my gun control measures and next month we were supposed to have a gun-buyback in Seattle.

“Who’s the woman?” I asked. “Definitely not his wife. A mistress?”

“That’s what my source thinks,” Jessica answered. “No one knows her name. She’s been seen with the Mayor at all his public appearances the last two days.”

“So?” I asked. “Other than her weird choice in hair color, what’s so unusual about a politician having an affair?”

“Yeah, that hair is a bit much,” Mary giggled. “What is she, into Anime or something? She looks young.”

“The problem is that Mayor Erikson is gay,” Jessica answered. “He’s been openly gay for twenty years. He and his partner were one of the firsts couples married when it was legalized last November. There has also been a strange death in the Mayor’s office. Tuesday night, his assistant, and some say his boyfriend, died of an unknown disease. And since Wednesday he’s been seen with this woman.”

I frowned. “Maybe it’s a coincidence?”

“Maybe, Master,” Jessica frowned. “However, given the capabilities of our enemies, I think we should be wary of any radical changes of behavior or mysterious deaths.”

Mary bit her lip. “Maybe you should cancel that gun-buyback in Seattle next month until we know what’s going on. Jessica, have 51 quietly make contact with Seattle PD and find out who that woman is.”

Jessica nodded and climbed off my lap. “Right away, Mistress.”

As we ate our pie, Mary and I discussed the information. We just ended up going around in circles. All we had was speculation. We thought Lilith was in Seattle, but we had no proof. Chantelle and Lana hadn’t been spotted by anyone since they dropped off Karen’s body two months ago. Even when they appeared on Washington State’s Most Wanted, no tips were generated.

Mary grabbed a second slice of pie. “Hungry?” I asked her with a smile, tired of worrying about Lilith.

“It’s your kid that’s hungry, Mark,” she smiled back, quickly polished off that second piece, and stood up. “Well, I guess I better get Mom.”

I stood up as well, kissed my wife and rubbed her stomach. Our child grew inside her. I never thought I would have kids, and now I was going to have four just with the women in this house alone, plus Beth Philips and Vivian Anders and who knows how many others. Anastasia Milburn, from the jogging club, was pregnant, and it could be mine or her husband’s. There were quite a few members of the Church of the Living Gods who weren’t sure who the fathers of their children were, either.

I headed up to our bedroom and stripped naked and stretched out on the bed and waited. I was starting to wonder if Mary was coming when the door opened and Mary and her mother slipped in. I smiled; both wore teddies. Mary’s was a pale blue and transparent. Her perky breasts were cupped in silk, surrounded by white lace, and her dusky nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. A blue thong barely covered her pussy, her heart of pubic hair peaked out around the fabric. Tiffany had a scarlet teddy, her sandy-blonde hair falling pale against the vibrant fabric. Her breasts were larger, the bodice also transparent and I could see her hard nipples. Tiffany wore a pair of lacy, red panties that did nothing to hide the blonde bush beneath.

“Hmm, he’s gorgeous,” Tiffany purred. “My Gift really transformed him.”

“I know.” Mary had the same, hungry look in her eyes as she stared at me. They could be sisters, both young, with heart-shaped faces. The only differences were the eyes and hair. Mary had emerald eyes and auburn hair, while her mother had sapphire eyes and sandy-blonde hair.

“I sent April and Violet to play with Dad,” Mary smiled as she stalked forward. “They both dressed up as naughty schoolgirls for him.”

Tiffany licked her lips. “Too many years teaching those hot, young teenagers really corrupted my husband.”

Not only did Mary’s dad, Sean, still teach at Washington High School, he wasn’t the only one going there every weekday. Missy and her boyfriend Damien were still students, and Damien’s sex slave, Mrs. Corra, taught math at the high school. Each had to have two bodyguards to protect them and that took a lot of calls to the School Board, the adminstrators, and the PTA to get straightened out.

Mary slid onto the bed on my right, and Tiffany crawled towards me on the left. Both stared at me with lust-filled eyes; tigers stalking their prey. Silken hair brushed my thighs as they crawled closer and closer. Tiffany bent down and kissed me on the lips and Mary kissed my chin. Both mother and daughter pressed their bodies against me, and ran their hands across my muscled chest. I returned the favor, sliding my hands down their backs until I was cupping a pair of plump asses.

Mary moved up and joined our kiss. Our three tongues fenced before I turned and my wife stuck hers into my mouth as her mother licked at my chin. Tiffany followed my jawline to my ear and started teasing my lobe. Mary broke the kiss and pulled on her mother’s blonde hair, bringing her face closer. It was beautiful as I watched mother and daughter kiss above me.

“You two are so beautiful,” I murmured. They broke their kiss and smiled down at me.

“Who’s the most beautiful?” Tiffany asked.

“Mary,” I answered without hesitation. It was the truth; I liked a redhead more than a blonde.

“Umm, someone deserves a reward,” Mary purred, and started kissing at my neck.

She kissed down my chest, teased my nipple with her tongue, and sucked it into her mouth. Mary sometimes liked to kiss and suck at my nipples, but it didn’t do much for me, just tingled a bit. I was happy to let her do it, though. Then she licked lower and lower. Her cheek rubbed against my flat stomach, her auburn hair fanned out across my chest behind her.

“You’re a good husband,” Tiffany murmured, and kissed me on the lips again.

Mary’s face was getting closer and closer to my cock, her breath warm on my shaft. She rubbed her face into my brown pubic hair, then I moaned into Tiffany’s lips as Mary’s tongue slowly slid up my cock, up and up until she grazed the sensitive tip. I shuddered and my cock jumped in pleasure. Giggling, Mary licked up the shaft from the base to the tip again. This time she swirled her tongue around the head once, before she returned to the base.

“Want some help, Mary?” Tiffany asked.

“I do, Mom,” Mary answered.

Tiffany sat up and slipped off her panties. She held them up and I could see a damp spot on the gusset, then she held them to my nose. “Sean loves smelling my dirty panties,” she confessed. I inhaled deeply; she had a spicy scent similar to Mary’s. Tiffany laughed, “I see he’s not the only guy.”

“They smell great, Tiffany,” I told her.

“Umm, then you are just going to love this,” she promised.

Tiffany straddled my face, lowering her pussy to my lips as she bent down to lap at my cock. Her pussy was covered by a mat of blonde hair, a darker shade than the hair on her head. I could smell her arousal, and see juices glisten amidst the hair. I rubbed my lips into the silky forest, tasted her spicy flavor as I found her pussy.

“Ohh, that’s nice, Mark,” purred Tiffany as I sucked a dark labia swollen with lust into my lips.

“He’s the best,” Mary answered, her voice full of pride and love. I felt her cheek rub against the side of my cock as her mother licked up the other side of the shaft.

I buried my face into her mother’s cunt, licking my tongue through her wet slit. Tiffany sucked the head of my cock into her lips and I enjoyed her hum of pleasure. Mary slid down and started to suck at my balls. She would engulf one, then the other, into her sweet lips and gently played with them with her tongue. I found Tiffany’s hard clit and nuzzled my nose into her folds as I sucked at the sensitive pearl.

Tiffany started bobbing her head, sucking hard as she engulfed my cock. She used her teeth, lightly, to graze my cock. My cock brushed the back of her throat and then she slid down my shaft, deepthroating my cock. It felt wonderful inside her tight throat and I moaned with her clit in my mouth; a delightful shudder rippled through my mother-in-law.

“Ooh, you can deepthroat?” Mary gasped in awe. “Wow!”

Tiffany slid her head up my shaft, sucking wonderfully the entire time. “Your Mom knows a trick or two,” she giggled, then deepthroated me again.

I squeezed my mother-in-law’s ass, spread her cheeks wide, and I started to play with her asshole. She sucked hard on my cock as I pushed a finger up her tight ass, a low moan vibrating through her throat. My balls erupted from the sudden sensation and she quickly pulled up her mouth to catch the second and third blast in her lips.

I slowly fingered her asshole as I sucked on her clit. I felt Tiffany release my cock and then heard some wet, smacking sounds. They were kissing, sharing my cum. “Umm, that’s delicious,” Mary purred, then I heard more kissing noises, and I almost wished my view wasn’t obstructed by Tiffany’s beautiful pussy. Almost.

“Ohh, Mark knows his way around a pussy,” Tiffany panted.

“He’s had lots of practice.” I could just picture the satisfied smirk on my wife’s face. I enjoyed eating her pussy out, particularly when we took a shower.

“Shoot, I’m gonna cum!” Tiffany gasped. “Oh yes, oh wow!” Delicious honey flooded my mouth as my mother-in-law came. “Oh, jeez! Yes, yes, yes!” She breathed deeply. “That was great, thank you.”

She slid off of my face and both women cuddled up next to me. “Shoot?” I asked, looking at my mother-in-law. “And ‘oh, jeez?’ I’ve never heard such clean dirty-talk before.”

“Too long spent in churches,” she sighed.

Mary licked at my lips and savored her mother’s flavor, before she kissed me. “So, shall we?” Mary asked.

“This won’t hurt the baby, right?” Tiffany asked, concerned, her hands clutching at her belly.

“No, Sam assures us it’s safe,” I said. “I didn’t get the details. If you let her, she’ll ramble on and on about all the technical minutia that just bores the crap out of me. But I trust her.”

Mary nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t risk my future brother or sister, Mom.”

“So, I just say, ‘Siyach’ when I cum, right?” Tiffany asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “While bringing the both of us to orgasm.”

“You’re making it sound so technical,” Mary complained. “Mom, just lie on your back and I’ll sit on your face and you can lick me to a shuddering orgasm while Mark fucks your pregnant cunt until you explode.”

“Hmm, sounds good,” Tiffany smiled. “I have grown to like the taste of my daughters’ pussies.” It had taken Mary’s older sister, Shannon, a few weeks to come around and forgive her mother’s absence. Missy, on the other hand, had been so excited to finally meet her mother. She had been barely two when Tiffany fell prey to a Warlock, and affectionately rekindled her relationship with her estranged mother.

Tiffany stretched out on the bed, breathtakingly beautiful in her red teddy, her legs obscenely spread wide, exposing her furred snatch. Mary quickly straddled her mother and lowered her bare cunt to Tiffany’s waiting lips. I loved watching a woman’s tongue sliding through another woman’s pussy, particularly when that pussy belonged to my wife.

I grabbed Tiffany’s legs, lifted her up, and slid a pillow beneath her ass. Mary moaned, thrusting her breasts outward, still encased in the silk of her blue teddy. They looked a little bigger than a month ago, and felt fuller. I loved Mary’s breasts, and I didn’t mind at all that the pregnancy was making them bigger. Just meant more to play with! Mary leaned over, grasped my cock, and guided it to her mother’s cunt.

“Give her a good ride,” Mary purred as I pushed the head of my cock into Tiffany’s tight cunt.

I thrust hard and enjoyed the feel of my mother-in-law’s snatch. Why had I been so stubborn about this? She felt amazing. I gripped her thighs and gave her good, hard thrusts that left her moaning into my wife’s pussy. Mary’s eyes rolled in pleasure and her lips pursed. They were red and full and begged to be kissed, so I leaned forward and captured them in a kiss. Mary melted into my mouth, her hand gripped the back of my head as she kissed me back. My right hand let go of Tiffany’s leg and I reached under the teddy to caress Mary’s stomach.

Mary broke the kiss and gasped in pleasure as my hand slid up and started to gently grope her left breast. “Oh yes!” she gasped as I pinched her nipple. “Oh, fuck, that feels great! Suck my clit, Mom! Oh, you fucking know just how to get me off! Oh, fuck! I’m so horny! Watching you deepthroat Mark made me so wet! Siyach!” she screamed as her orgasm exploded through her, starting the ritual.

“My naughty filly,” I grinned, fucking Tiffany harder as Mary smiled happily at me.

Mary sighed, “My horny stallion. Make my mom howl in pleasure!”

“Fuck yeah I will!” I panted.

I pulled Tiffany’s legs up, hooked her ankles onto my shoulders, and leaned forward. I was able to thrust deeply into her tight pussy, pumping away as fast as I could. My mother-in-law’s cunt felt like soft silk rubbing deliciously up and down on my cock. Every thrust full of sweet pleasure. I could hear my balls slap against her taint as I fucked her harder and harder. I had to cum! That great need built up inside me. Closer and closer my orgasm drew, every stroke agonizing pleasure, spurring me to thrust harder and faster.

“Siyach!” I gasped as I flooded my mother-in-law’s pussy. “Fuck, your cunt is amazing, Tiffany!”

I kept pounding her cunt. I needed to bring her to orgasm to finish the spell. Mary reached down and started fingering her mother’s clit. Tiffany moaned wordlessly beneath Mary, and I could see a second orgasm growing on my wife’s face. I changed the angle of my thrust, the head of my cock now rubbing along the top of her cunt. Tiffany twitched as I grazed her G-spot.

That set her off. I felt her pussy milking my cock as her body heaved beneath Mary. Tiffany shouted a word, muffled by Mary’s cunt, and I felt this connection spring up from Tiffany, into Mary and myself. Mary shuddered, cumming again on her mother’s lips and I felt another load of cum shooting off into Tiffany’s cunt. My vision blackened with the intensity of it, ecstasy boiling through me and escaping into her pussy.

Holy shit, I thought.

Oh, wow, that’s wild! Mary’s voice whispered in my mind. I heard you inside my head!

You can hear me? I asked her silently.

Yeah.

“Did it work?” Tiffany asked, breathless.

I pulled out of my mother-in-law, sprawling back on the bed. “Yeah, it worked great.”

Mary snuggled against me as Tiffany rolled out of bed. “Great,” she smiled. She bent down and kissed Mary and then me on the lips. “Well, I’m going home, you two have a good night.”

“You’re not going to stay and cuddle?” Mary pouted.

“Well, that sounds tempting,” Tiffany smiled. “But there are two hot, teenage sluts in bed with my husband, and I want to join in the fun.”

“Ohh, has Dad corrupted you, too?” Mary asked, curious. “Do you have a schoolgirl fetish now, Mom?”

“Maybe,” Tiffany answered with a mysterious smile.

Mary’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, you’ve fucked one of dad’s students!”

Tiffany laughed. “Yep! On Tuesday. I went to see Sean at work, you know, to surprise him with a nooner. I found him balls deep in one of his students. This cute girl named…um…Emily.” Tiffany smiled fondly. “She was scared, at first, but I convinced her to eat me out while Sean fucked her pussy.”

“You dirty slut,” Mary giggled. “Mark once spent an entire day at a high school, fucking every girl he could. Meanwhile, I was stuck running errands for our wedding and having an absolutely terrible day.”

“Hey, I had to find two virgins,” I protested. “I had to search long and hard to find two girls that still had intact hymens.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was hard,” grinned Mary, her hand gripping my cock. “And once it was hard, it was definitely long.”

It’s long and hard for you, Mare, I thought at my wife.

A pleased smile appeared on her lips. Well, maybe I should fix that?

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

“This is all your fault, Mark Glassner,” Mary complained the next morning as I held her hair back. She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes widened, and she turned back to the toilet to vomit into the bowel.

Morning sickness had been rough on Mary, and this morning seemed particularly unpleasant. “Sorry, Mare. But it was your idea to have a child,” I pointed out calmly.

She glared at me, her face pale, almost green. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Mark Glassner!”

I laughed, which only made her glare harder. “You look beautiful this morning, Mare,” I quickly said.

“Liar,” she accused, but my compliment helped to mollify her anger. Well, she wasn’t really angry, just in some discomfort, and so lashed out at me. So I used my other hand to rub her shoulder and bent down to kiss her neck.

She stood up and I handed her a glass of water and she rinsed her mouth out, then I carried her back to bed and set her down, and kissed her forehead. “Feeling better?” I asked, snuggling up against her.

“No,” she sighed. “I don’t think I’m up for going to the gun-buyback today.”

“Sure, Mare.” I rubbed at her stomach. “Only eight-weeks old and she is already causing problems.”

Mary giggled. “A girl, huh? Not a son to take after you?”

I snorted with laughter. “There wouldn’t be a safe pussy anywhere in the state,” I boasted. “My son would have to fuck them all.”

Mary smiled fondly. “Well, if it’s a girl, what would you name her?”

“Chasity,” I answered without hesitation.

Mary looked at me; a tear welled in the corner of her eye. “That’s lovely.” She kissed me gently. “And if it’s a boy?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I said, frowning. “I’ve always thought Quatch was a cool name.”

Mary smiled and pinched me. “We are not naming our child after that hairy friend of yours!”

“Well, I’m out of ideas, what would you name our son?”

“Albert,” Mary answered.

“Really?” I frowned. What a terrible name. “Have you been talking to my mom?”

Mary nodded. “She told me all about her dad, so I think we should name him after your grandfather.”

“Why not yours?” I asked. I really didn’t want to name my son Albert. Grandpa had been a great guy before he passed away from cancer, but Albert was a horrible name.

“Mine are both named Mike. Just like my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, good point.” I kissed her nose, she just looked so cute. “Chasity if it’s a girl, and it will be a girl, Mary. Or Albert in the incredibly unlikely event we have a son.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You need to prepare yourself to have a son, Mark,” she laughed. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance after all.”

“Ahh, but the man’s sperm chooses the sex,” I pointed out. “So I just concentrated on having a girl, so my sperm knew which ones should be making the attempt.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Mark,” Mary sighed with exasperation.

“Sure it does,” I boasted. “I asked Willow. She’s an Obstetrician, so she’d know.”

“Liar,” Mary smiled. Then her smile faded as her face paled and she bolted for the bathroom, again.

I followed, holding her auburn hair up to keep the vomit out. “You know, I really love you,” I told her between heaves. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t put up with something this disgusting.”

“It’s your fault I’m vomiting, Mark Glassner!” Mary snapped back. “So just suck it up, be a man, and hold my hair.”

“Yes, dear,” I grinned at her.

Afterward, Mary laid back down to take a nap, and I went to get some breakfast. I passed Violet stumbling out of the bathroom, looking just as green-faced as Mary. April was with her, a teasing smile on her lips. “Oh, it’s not fair,” Violet complained. “Why don’t you suffer morning sickness, April?”

“Luck?” she shrugged. “Oh, good morning, Master.”

“Keep it down,” I admonished the pregnant sluts. “Mary’s had a rough morning.”

Alice looked sheepish and nodded, and I kissed her on the lips, then Violet on the forehead, then headed downstairs. Alison gave me my morning blowjob as I sipped at my coffee and watched Desiree’s naked ass as she cooked breakfast. I loved getting a blowjob from Alison, her tongue-piercing added a little something extra that made me cum just a little faster.

“Thank you, Master,” Alison smiled, her mouth full of cum. She walked over to her wife and kissed her on the lips, swapping my cum between each other.

“Umm, that was delicious, mi Sirenita,” Desiree purred, smacking her lips. “And thank you, mi Rey, for cumming in my wife’s mouth.”

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine,” I grinned, and Lillian richly laughed as she sipped at her coffee next to me.

After breakfast, I went upstairs to get ready for the gun-buyback. I brought Mary up a tray that held a light breakfast of fruit. She was still napping. So I left the tray, covered with a cloth, on the bedside table. I quietly showered and got dressed in a tailored, blue suit with a red tie, and my uncomfortable dress shoes. I slipped out of the room, quietly, and walked downstairs.

Desiree and Violet were waiting for me, dressed in their office slut attires. Desiree wore a tight, red mini-skirt that clung to her full, Latin ass; a sheer, white blouse that her hard nipples were clearly visible through; and a red blazer. Violet wore a pleated, gray skirt that barely covered her slim ass, and a red tube-top that clung to her apple-sized breasts like a second skin, her nipples clearly hard as they dimpled the fabric. She wore a gray jacket and her brown hair fell loose about her shoulders, instead of her usual pigtails. Both wore their gold chokers proclaiming to whom they belonged.

Desiree was my campaign manager and Violet was my secretary. We were putting all the sluts to work. Jessica was my press secretary, Lillian was my webmaster, and April was Mary’s secretary. Xiu was in charge of the household: she assigned cleaning jobs, sent sluts on errands to the stores, made sure we had food, etc. Alison was our liaison to the Church of the Living Gods, the group that worshiped Mary and me. Korina was coordinating the construction of the mansion, the foundations of which had already been laid out, and the workmen and -women were starting to raise the exterior walls. It just might be ready by the time our child is born in seven months.

“Are we all set?” I asked Desiree and Violet.

“Yes, Master,” Violet nodded. “Leah has the limo gassed up and ready to go.”

Our limo was a specially ordered, armored beast. We bought it from this company down south that specialized in armored vehicles. The armor on the limo could take all but the heaviest fire. Short of a tank, the limo was indestructible. Leah waited next to the limo, smiling and wearing her chauffeur’s outfit. A short, black skirt covered her ass and fishnet-stockings clad her beautiful legs; a white corset pushed up breasts and a red-and-orange tie dangled down into her spectacular cleavage. A small, black jacket and a chauffeur’s cap, perched on the curly mass of her brunette hair, completed the outfit. Both Leah and Rachel had let their dyed-blonde hair fade back to their original brown in the last few months. It had something to do with their three-way marriage to Jacob; Mary understood it and would get all misty-eyed as she explained, “It’s so beautiful how they express their love for Jacob.” I didn’t get it.

“Sir,” Leah purred as I walked up; I bent down and kissed her on the lips. Leah’s husband and wife were hovering nearby and after we all climbed into the limo, I saw Jacob and Rachel hug and kiss their wife goodbye. Jacob and Rachel worked for us as accountants; between our charity, the Church, and my campaign, money was coming in and going out in all directions and we needed someone to manage the books.

51 climbed into the limo, the Black woman who headed up our bodyguard. She showed initiative the day of the attack and we promoted her to take Chasity’s place. Her partner, 47, was second-in-command, and would be staying at home. Squad A was guarding me today. Right now we had a total of six squads of eight bodyguards each. Squad B and C were staying behind to watch Mary and the neighborhood, Squad D was in Chicago guarding Shannon and George on his business trip. Squads E and F were guarding our planes.

Two squad cars led the limo out of the neighborhood and two more followed. Each car had two bodyguards and an AR-15. After the SWAT attack, I wanted to be well armed in case of another assault. Everyone wore their Amulets that warded them from bullets. I should never have forbidden the bodyguards their bulletproof vests. A few might still be alive if they had been wearing them, and that guilt gnawed at me sometimes, late at night. Well, the Amulets worked better, and I could still have my guard of pretty women in sexy cop outfits.

“Feeling better, Violet?” I asked as the limo took the left onto Shaw Road.

“I am, Master,” she smiled coquettishly. Even with her hair down, she looked young and innocent. She rubbed at my hardening cock. “Do you require some relief?”

“Yeah,” I smiled.

I kissed Violet on the lips, her mouth minty fresh from her toothpaste. I heard the metallic rasp of my zipper and her hand fished my cock out, stroking me to full hardness. She broke the kiss, a questioning look in her eyes.

“In your cunt,” I answered her.

She purred, “Absolutely, Master,” as she straddled my waist.

I pushed her skirt up and exposed her bald pussy. Her slit was tight and looked girlish without any hair. Moisture beaded on her pussy as she lowered her pussy down to my waiting cock. I groaned as her tight, teenage cunt engulfed my cock and slid down to take my entire length. Violet threw her head back and gasped as she slowly started riding my cock. I pulled her tube-top down, exposing her small, pink nipples to my hungry gaze.

“Yes, yes, Master!” Violet moaned as I sucked her right nipple into my lips. I squeezed her breasts; they felt a little plumper and I wondered how big they would get by the time she gave birth to my child. I hoped they didn’t get too big; Violet’s small breasts were perfect for her.

“Sir, may I indulge?” 51 asked. I released Violet’s nipple, looking around the teen at 51 sitting across from me. My bodyguard’s dark eyes shone with lust. She was on duty, so she knew that she couldn’t indulge in any sex act without my permission. Desiree sat next to her, nuzzling against 51’s dark neck.

“Yeah, Desiree, eat her cunt out.”

“As you command, mi Rey,” Desiree answered in her sultry, Latin accent, slipping down to the floor.

“Thank you, sir,” 51 gasped as Desiree buried her face beneath 51’s short, blue skirt.

51 unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her small, ebony breasts topped with pink nipples. She pinched them between her fingers as she enjoyed Desiree’s tongue lashing. Violet was hugging me tightly, pumping her hips on me. Her snatch was a tight, wonderful vice as she rode me. I squeezed her tight ass and watched 51 writhe in pleasure. Desiree pushed her skirt up and I could see her shaved pussy, dark and swollen with her arousal.

“Dirty slut,” I moaned as Desiree started fingering her snatch. “Desiree, I want to watch you cum while eating out 51’s cunt!”

“Ohh, yes, mi Rey!”

Thanks for the fruit, Mark, Mary’s voice suddenly filled my mind, startling me. This new communication spell may take some getting used to.

You’re welcome, Mare, I sent back, struggling to concentrate with Violet’s tight cunt riding my cock.

My mom stopped by and strawberries taste even sweeter soaked in her juices.

Naughty filly! God, I wish I was there to see that. I closed my eyes and pictured Mary taking a bright-red strawberry and sliding it through her mother’s blonde-furred muff, gathering her spicy juices, and popping it into her mouth.

So, is it Desiree or Violet playing with your cock?

Violet’s riding me. How did you know? I asked.

I could almost feel her laugh. I know you, Mark. You’re my horny stallion. You almost have to have your cock in a woman’s hole 24/7. Well, have fun; I’m feeling better and Mom has a banana shoved up her pussy and I’m feeling a little hungry! Love ya, stud!

Love you, I sent back, hoping she could feel my love through the thought.

“Oh, fuck!” moaned Violet. “I love your cock, Master! The best cock in the whole wide world!”

“It’s the only cock you’ve ever fucked,” I pointed out as she rode me.

“No, I fucked Mistress when she had one,” Violet panted. “When you were under that spell.”

I had to laugh at that. Mary told me about the cock, but not about fucking Violet, when I was obsessed with my little sister Antsy. “Maybe she’s the father,” I teased.

“Ohh, maybe. Umm, that feels good!” Violet moved her head and stared into my eyes. “Willow says my date of conception was around that Tuesday. I fucked you both that day.”

I thought about that. What if it was Mary’s child inside her? I kissed Violet. “I don’t care,” I told her truthfully. “Either way, your child is part of the family.”

“I love you, Master,” Violet smiled and added a delightful twist to her hips as she fucked me.

I loved all my sluts. It wasn’t the all-encompassing love I felt for Mary. That love drowned out all other feelings, but I was fond of my sluts. I cared for them. They were mine. And Mary’s. “I love you, too, my little, pregnant slut!”

“Umm, your slut!” she purred, savoring the word. “I’m going to cum! Shoot your spunk inside me, Master! I want us to cum together!”

“Keep wiggling those hips like that, slut, and I’ll fill your pussy with so much cum!” I groaned. “Oh, fuck, your cunt feels amazing!”

“My slutty cunt?”

“Yeah, your slutty fucking cunt!” I grabbed her waist and shoved her all the way down my shaft and spilled my seed as deep into her as I could.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes!” Violet gasped as her cunt spasmed about my cock. “Oh, thank you, Master! Thank you, thank you, thank you! That was great!”

I fucked 51’s cunt – a wet, pink slit surrounded by her beautiful, ebony skin – after Violet, and then I got a great titty-fuck from Desiree as we got off the freeway in Tacoma. “There’s a lot of traffic, sir,” Leah reported. “I think the gun-buyback is going to be a great success.”

“Yeah,” I moaned as Desiree sandwiched my cock between her big tits.

51’s juices on my cock lubed me up, and Desire furiously rubbed her tits up and down on my cock as we crawled up 9th Street. Even with the lights and sirens of my escorts, climbing the steep hill of downtown Tacoma towards the Courthouse was slow going. As we passed Commerce Street, 51 gasped and came on Violet’s mouth. With a happy smile, 51 buttoned-up her blouse.

“I love your tits, slut,” I moaned, looking down at Desiree’s happy, nut-brown face.

“I love your cock, mi Rey,” Desiree purred, then licked at the tip of my cock.

“Fuck!” I groaned and spilled my cum, white upon her brown tits. Desiree smiled, letting the cum run in milky rivulets around her heavy orbs. She didn’t bother buttoning up her blouse. She was a slut taking pride in her work and wanted everyone to know it.

The Courthouse sat on Tacoma Ave between 9th and 11th Streets, and Tacoma PD had roadblocks at both intersections. They let our motorcade pass the barricades and Violet made sure I was presentable as we pulled up to the Courthouse. “You look so handsome, Master,” she cutely smiled as she straightened my tie.

The limo stopped and the huge crowd that filled the square before the Courthouse cheered wildly. The bodyguards poured out of their vehicles and formed up around the limo before Leah opened the door. 51 stepped out first, her eyes examining the crowd before she would let me out. The bodyguards all had orders—our safety came first. Even if that meant ignoring our orders.

When I stepped out the sun was warm on my face, and the crowd erupted into cheers; an almost solid wave of sound rolled into me like surf pounding a rocky cliff. It was nearing the end of September, and it had been a warm month, but the nights were getting colder and October was just a few days away. With October would come the gray clouds and the never-ending rain of Western Washington. Not until the end of May or early June would the weather get pleasant again.

I raised up my hand, waving at the crowd. Their cheers flowed through me, filling me with this heady feeling. There were hundreds here, not counting all the news crews that were filming the event. Hundreds of people were clapping and calling out my name. No wonder people got into politics; this was almost the greatest feeling in the world. I smiled, waved, and let the crowd’s intoxicating love wash through me. My bodyguards formed up around us. 51 walked directly in front of me and Violet and Desiree followed, her tits still out and covered in cum. Behind us, a few Tacoma Cops and Leah drove our motorcade away, to park it behind the Courthouse and out of the way for the day’s events.

I shook hands as the bodyguards pushed through the crowd. Everyone was reaching out to touch me, and Desiree and Violet, too. Women were fondling Desiree’s breasts, scooping up my cum and reverently eating their God’s seed. It was deafening in the crowd, almost overwhelming. Finally, we made it through the square and walked into the Courthouse.

Mayor Bray of Tacoma – short and fit, looking younger than his forty-six years – shook my hand first. Next to him was his beautiful Korean wife, as tall as her husband, with a round face and a big smile. Her almond-shaped eyes twinkled with excitement and her hand trembled as we shook hands.

“My wife, Yoon,” Mayor Bray introduced.

“My Lord,” she said in awe. Another true believer, I thought with a smile.

“My pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bray,” I said, taking her hand and kissing it. She was quite a lovely woman; my eyes roamed her body. “I would love to get to know you better.”

The Mayor nodded his head. “Of course, of course. Yoon is very pleasant company.” I bet she is. My cock hardened, and I kept holding her hand, stroking it with my thumb. She blushed, her dark eyes twinkling with desire.

“I thought your wife, the radiant Goddess, would be here?” Yoon asked.

“Something came up that she needed to take care of,” I lied. It wouldn’t do for the woman to learn her Goddess had morning sickness. A Goddess should be above such mundane problems. “But she would love to meet you.”

“I would be honored,” Yoon purred.

Sheriff Erkhart walked up and I let go of Yoon’s hand to shake his. Then I greeted Captain Cumming, head of Tacoma PD. I knew all the local law enforcements’ leadership, they were all under my power. “This was a great idea,” Sheriff Erkhart said. “The turnout is incredible.”

It was a great turnout. Not surprising since I spent the last week giving live interviews, commanding anyone with a gun that wasn’t a cop or soldier to turn them in today. The greatest threat to Mary and me is someone with a gun killing us before we have a chance to use our powers. Sure we had our amulets, but they weren’t perfect. A large enough caliber weapon could overcome the protection and an automatic weapon could overload the amulet after ten or so hits.

“Well, I have to go make the introductions,” Mayor Bray said, turning to head back outside.

I retook Mrs. Bray’s hand, pulling her to me, my eyes raking her body. “Do you want to fuck me, my Lord?” she asked; her body trembled with awe and lust.

“Yes,” I told her.

She swallowed and pulled up her skirt. She wore no panties. “I follow the commandments,” she smiled. “I only let my husband fuck me, normally. But you are my God! Colton will not mind.”

“No, he won’t,” I told her and bent her over the X-ray machine that stood just beyond the metal detectors. Her husband was under my commands, and would accept anything I did as perfectly normal, even fucking his wife.

Outside, her husband spoke at the podium as I rubbed my dick through the shaved lips of her pussy. She shuddered in pleasure as I pushed into her snatch. She wasn’t as tight as Mary or any of the sluts, but she still felt great as I fucked my cock inside her. My balls slapped against her clit, adding a staccato beat as I pounded away at her cunt.

“Oh my God!” Yoon moaned. “Your cock is heavenly. Umm, this is so amazing! Bless my married cunt, my Lord! Oh, fuck yes!”

A hush fell over the crowd, and I glanced out the glass doors of the courthouse to see the Mayor waiting. Oh shit! I was supposed to be out there. Well, everyone would have to wait; Mrs. Bray’s cunt felt too great to stop now. The Mayor frowned, then walked back inside.

“Oh honey,” Mrs. Bray panted. “Oh wow, this is amazing! My God is fucking me!”

“I see my wife is being very friendly,” the Mayor grinned. “She’s been so excited to meet you.”

“I can tell,” I panted as Mrs Yoon’s cunt convulsed about my cock as she came. “You’ve got a great wife.”

“I know,” he said, smiling fondly at his wife. “Okay, I’ll go stall.”

“Yeah,” I panted. Mrs. Bray’s orgasm was still going, milking my cock as I pumped her hard. She kept gasping and panting as her orgasms rolled together, massaging my cock, until I couldn’t take the pleasure of her cunt any longer, and I spilled my seed inside her. “You have a great pussy, Mrs. Bray.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she panted, adjusting her gray skirt.

“Make sure you thank your husband for sharing you,” I said. “I bet he would love to fuck your ass.”

A blush spread on her olive cheeks. “I bet he would, my Lord.”

The crowd cheered even louder when I stepped out. The bodyguards swept out, forming a half-circle. 51 hung back, standing a few paces behind me and to my left. Half of the guard carried their AR-15’s slung on shoulder slings, their hands resting dangerously on the sleek, black weapons as they scanned the crowd.

“Thank you for coming out today,” I shouted. “Sorry for the delay, I had a worshiper to bless.” I grinned and a laugh rippled through the crowd. “The number one thing you can do as human beings is to love and respect your fellow humans.” I paused a beat. “Love and respect. It sounds simple, but for thousands of years it has seemed impossible to achieve. Human history is ripe with wars, murders, rapes, and atrocities. But today is the first step to rectifying that. We do not need all these guns out on the streets. We do not need them for protection, anymore. That’s why we have cops and soldiers. This isn’t the Wild West, this is the twenty-first century!”

The crowd roared, buffeting me with sound and I stood firm like the cliff before the pounding sea. On either side of the square, lines were queuing and people were turning their guns over to the Tacoma Police. Men and women; Whites, Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, and Native Americans. For the last week I had been on every local news program, commanding everyone to turn in their guns. Anyone who caught the interviews live would have no choice but to turn in their weapons. Clean-cut businessmen, frumpy soccer moms, grizzled outdoorsmen, and thuggish gangbangers all stood together.

“Today, we take that first step towards utopia!” I shouted.

The crowd’s roar was deafening and I took in their support. They kept roaring; I closed my eyes and enjoyed the intoxicating power of the moment. Finally, the cheers died down and I opened my mouth to continue my speech when I heard a low, whoping sound echo through the square. I glanced at 51 and she frowned.

The noise built and built. There was a rhythm to the whoping, a reliable beat. I started scanning the skies, it sounded almost like a helicopter. Maybe a news copter? Or perhaps a police copter? The crowd was growing restless, many looking up, trying to spot the source of the noise.

The helicopter was black, long, and sleek as it burst over the courthouse, flying low. A strong wind slammed down on me from the rotor wash and the crowd cried out as the helicopter banked overhead. There was something sticking out of the sides, long, barrel-shaped objects. Guns, I realized. I recognized the shape of the helicopter from that movie, Black Hawk Down. What was a military helicopter doing here?

A second Black Hawk roared over the crowd, banking to kill its speed, and the pair started hovering at either end of the block by the police barricades. I could only watch dumbfounded as ropes dropped down from the copters and soldiers began sliding down the ropes, M-16’s slung on their backs. When they hit the ground they moved quickly, taking cover, and aiming at the police barricades.

I concentrated and saw black auras around the soldiers and my stomach sank.

Thralls!

Every last soldier dominated by a Warlock. My heart hammered in my chest and I shouted into the microphones, speakers amplifying my voice around the stage, “Soldiers from the helicopters, throw down your weapons!”

The soldiers ignored me. Their weapons loudly barked as they fired at the police blockades.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 36.

Devil’s Pact Update 2-5-14

Hey everyone,

Master Ken finished the first edit of Chapter 35 this morning. The weather out East has made for some long days and it cuts into the time he can edit.

Found this pic today:

Violla A

Violla A

Is there anything sexier than a woman reading? Probably, but Violla sure looks smoking hot doing it.

Well, take care everyone

J.