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

This is a revised version of the story that I published on Smashword starting back in 2014. It is rewritten with much-added material. However, I did have to age up some of the characters so no one is underage in this version.

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Click here for The Daughter’s Passion, Chapter 6.

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Saturday, April 17th, 2031 – Sally Fritz – Washington D.C., North American District

“Are you nervous?” Cardinal Jessie asked me.

“I am, Mistress,” I promptly answered. I smiled as I stared at the beautiful, blonde woman. She stood over me, looking so regal and young, only eighteen or nineteen. I had known her all my life and the blessing of the Living Gods preserved her beauty.

“You’re going to knock their socks off,” she grinned. She rubbed her hand through my hair, petting me.

Delight fluttered through me.

Her husband, Cardinal Kevin, strode in. Like his wife, Jessie, he appeared young and handsome, preserved like her. I quivered with the other girls of my class, trembling as he embraced his wife and gave her a quick, if passionate, kiss.

“There are some important people out there, slaves,” he said, turning to me and my class. He flicked his eyes over me and he other girls, making me shudder.

I was so excited. We were the tenth class to graduate from Belleramine Academy, the premier school for transforming young women into submissive slaves. It was run by the Church of the Living Gods under the auspice of the Archdiocese of North America and directly supervised by Jessie and Kevin. They were the cardinals who led the Archdiocese, administrating all the diocese of the former United States, Canada, and Greenland.

Only the best girls were accepted to Belleramine Academy.

It was because of my father that I was here: Mark Glassner. I was a daughter of the Living God, Defender of Mankind, the Demon Slayer.

Of course, being one of Mark’s children didn’t make me that special. He was a lusty God, and had sowed his seed far and wide in many fields. Only his children born to his Goddess and the Holy Sluts were publicly acknowledged by him.

Still, being his daughter gave me a few advantages.

I didn’t know my mother. She died when I was six months old. She was one of many slain when the foul Dagon conquered Washington D.C. at the start of the Demon wars. I somehow survived. My father liberated D.C. soon after. I found my way into a Theocracy run orphanage. The only thing I knew about my mother was her name: Donna Fritz. That was it. When I was five, my DNA was tested. I was so giddy to learn the daughter of a God.

When I was six, I was enrolled at the Belleramine Academy.

I was given the finest education. Now at the age of eighteen, I was given the choice of graduating and taking the assessment test to discover what role in society the Gods needed me to fill, or I could be trained as a slave for the next two years.

I had envied the older girls who were being trained as slaves. They looked so beautiful as they were paraded around naked, their heads held high. They were full of pride. Only the best girls attended Belleramine, and only the best of those were given the opportunity to be a slave. They were trained to serve, taught so many naughty things, prepared to devote themselves to the pleasure of their owners.

Today, I would be auctioned off to the most powerful people in the world: Bishops ruling Diocese or Executives ruling Territories. If I was really lucky, a Cardinal or a Governor, someone bound to the Gods themselves and gifted immortality, would buy me.

The slave training was extensive. The very night I agreed to start my training, Kevin and Jessie took me to their bed and made a woman out of me. Over the last two years, I was taught how to please both men and women with every part of my body, from my agile tongue to my deft fingers. I was trained how to endure long periods of bondage and other discomfort, learned to enjoy the taste of urine, and how to find bliss while being whipped for my owners pleasure.

I was ready to serve and be used for my Master or Mistress’s pleasure, no matter how obscene or disgusting it might be. I would gladly accept the strap for no reason than their whim. I would take cocks in any of my holes, allow them to breed me for their amusement, and perform any task, no mater how menial, just to serve them.

I couldn’t wait to be a slave.

There were ten of us graduating today, all beautiful, a garden of barely legal flowers ready to be plucked. Despite the fact I knew I was considered beautiful, my stomach roiled and squirmed. My heart beat so fast, pumping a cold chill through my veins. What if I wasn’t chosen? This fear lingered despite the fact that my rich, honey-brown hair fell in thick curls about my round, delicate face. My eyes were piercing blue, not uncommon among Mark’s children, and my lips were small and pouty. My figure was shapely, puffy nipples topping perky breasts that were just the right size for a man’s hand to engulf. I had a pussy to die for, shaved bare save for a small landing strip. My vulva was tight, hiding my pink petals. When aroused, my clit would peek out and my tangy honey would bead upon my lips.

But what if it wasn’t enough? What if no one wanted me? What if no one bid on me? I had read The Slave Chronicles, my favorite book in the Glassnerian Bible, at least a hundred times. I wanted to be like the Holy Sluts and devote myself to serving another.

“Take your places, slaves!” Jessie shouted, clapping her hands.

All ten of us rose with grace. We crossed the room and climbed onto our own small, round pedestals just large enough for us to kneel upon our hands and knees. I stared around at the other girls as I turned, seeing the serene expressions on their faces strained at the edges, foreheads too tight, cheeks too pale, tongues flicking too fast across lips. Our pedestals turned at a slow pace so that our potential buyers could properly inspect us. Drawn on our asses was a number.

I was seven.

“You are going to be perfect,” Kevin said, pacing around us, his voice sounding so strong. So confident. “Let them see your passion. Let them see that submissive drive to serve them.”

I shuddered as his hand caressed along my ass, dragging over my rump. It made me shudder in delight.

“Here we are,” Jessie said. The creak of doors opening echoed through the room.

The buzz of talking and the dull thud of dozens and dozens of footsteps echoed through the large ballroom. A shudder ran through me. My pussy clenched as the dais turned. I shuddered as I came around to witness the powerful men and women of the Theocracy, the mighty servants of my father and his Goddess, sweeping towards us. Some moved alone, others in pairs or in groups. More than a few had their own slaves with them, naked women wearing collars, their bodies decorated in rope or with nipples clamped dangling jeweled chains. Some even had naked men, muscular bodies oiled to a gleam, as their slaves.

I struggled to control my breathing, to remember my training. Poise. To be relaxed. To let them see my body. A trickle of pussy juices ran down my thighs as the buyers circulated around our dais and the room. My training covered more than just sexual pleasures, I was also taught the identity of the powerful and recognized almost all of them. As a slave to a powerful person, it would be expected of me to act as a secretary or other type of personal attendant, so knowing the important peoples of the world by sight was a very important skill drilled into us.

My eyes flicked around, staring past my fellow classmates to study the buyers circling us, feeling their eyes staring at us. It made me arch my back, putting a slight wiggle of my rump to draw their attention. A giddy thrill ran through me, flooding from that writhe in my stomach as I realized one of these powerful men or women would buy me today.

They were free with their hands, and other body parts. While none were allowed to cum on me, I shuddered as dicks were rammed into my pussy for a moment to savor the silky pleasure of my depths, or were plunged into my mouth. I sucked on them, staring up at the man, giving him a taste of the delights I had to offer. One man even thrust into my asshole, bringing a groan from my lips. The female buyers, and there were more than a few of them, would thrust their pussies into my face. My tongue fluttered through their labia, tasting the passion of their pussies. They would shudder and groan. Or they would thrust their breasts at me, pressing my face between their soft mounds, guiding hard nipples to my hungry mouth.

I sucked.

“Isn’t she a beauty, Sin?” purred Cardinal Vivian from behind me. I gasped as her fingers probed into my cunt. A delight shivered through me as her digits pumped in and out of me. “Nice and tight.”

I squeezed my snatch on her fingers, a giddy thrill ran through me. To be sold to Vivian and Cynthia, who were the first to experience the majesty of Mark and Mary, would be amazing. I would be such a lucky slave. Vivian herself had penned two of the holy books of the Glassnerian Bible.

“I don’t know. 5 has a gorgeous rear,” her wife, Cardinal Cynthia, answered. “Look at that rump.”

“Mmm, yes,” Cardinal Vivian purred, pulling her fingers from my snatch.

I didn’t let out a moan of disappointment as they moved on.

The Governors of the District of Russia, Anastasia and her husband Stan, admired my breasts while their son rammed his cock into my cunt. I gasped, my back arching, my little breasts quivering while his parents stared at me.

“Damn,” the son groaned as he gave two hard thrusts into my cunt before he ripped out of me. “Nice and tight.”

“Wonderful,” Anastasia said as she took her son by the arm and led him off to the next girl for him to admire, leaving my poor pussy burning. My juices dripped down my cunt, my poor pussy aching for an orgasm.

Cardinal Lynette Blythe, head of the Archdiocese of North Africa, bent over. The busty beauty pressed her pussy into my face, rubbing her delicious cunt into my face while her two younger paramours, Kevin and Patrick, fingered my ass and cunt.

“They should train some boys to be slaves,” Lynette told her lovers as my tongue fluttered through her snatch, stirring up through her cunt. “Girls are fine, but there’s nothing like a young man eager to please.”

“True, Ms. Blythe,” Patrick said. Once, they were her students when she was a teacher, their story recorded in the First Book of Vivian and the Gospel of April. The Living God had visited their school, one of the first places he showed the world how to love each other.

Bishopress Bryanna of the New York Diocese and her daughter, another of my many half-sisters, each took a lick of my pussy and both absolutely loved my taste, their tongues leaving me even more frustrated.

I wanted to beg them to keep feasting, but I was trained to give up my own pleasure. My owners controlled when, or even if, I would cum. “I want her, Mommy,” the daughter begged. “I absolutely have to own her.”

“We’ll see,” Bryanna answered. “There are a lot more important people here than us. But I’m sure we can get you one of the girls.”

“I want this one,” the girl declared. She was my age and wild, clearly not a girl that went through Belleramine Academy. Even the girls who didn’t become slaves were groomed to be submissive.

Cardinal Bill and his wife Erin fondled number 10 while Governor Daniel, father of the Holy Alison, watched his younger-looking wife Issy pump a dildo a few times in and out of 3’s asshole. Everyone of the girls of my class were flushed with arousal, aching to cum like I was. A flood of my juices dripped down my thighs.

The potential buyers teased us just long enough to keep us on the brink of cumming without letting us achieve that wonderful release.

I loved it.

A few lesser Bishops and Executives fondled me before Jessie announced, “We are about to being the auction.” She clapped her hands twice. “Girls, take your poses.”

I rose, ignoring the stiffness in my legs and back from holding the kneeling pose. Eyes followed my petite body as I sauntered into position, putting a delicious sway into my hips. I lined up on a stage with my fellow classmates, each of us taking a provocative poses we would have to hold for the duration while servants cleared out the pedestals and set up chairs. In minutes, the auction was ready to begin.

I trembled with one hand buried in my air, the other oh my waist, my hip cocked to the side, my breasts on quivering display. I stared out at the powerful as they took their seats, feeling all their eyes staring at me.

The bidding began.

1—a sweet, redhead name Lexa—went for $3 million, bought by Cardinal Fatima, a dusky Arab girl, one of those blessed during the Buy Best Orgy. “A gift for my wife,” I heard her say as she collected her slave. “Lucy is just going to devour her.”

Next up was 2, a buxom lass named Heather. She had her platinum blonde hair in a long braid and quickly auctioned, and then 3 was up. The spoiled daughter of Bishopress Bryanna was excited to win 4. I guess she found another slave she “absolutely has to own.” Cardinal Cynthia bought 5, and 6 went to Cassie Blackwood, daughter of the Governors of South Africa.

My heart pounded as I stepped forward. “Number 7 comes from excellent stock. One of our God’s many offsprings.” Jessie said, giving my breast a squeeze. “Perky tits, very pliant, and look at the pink of her nipples.”

Jessie’s molestation rekindled the fire in my loins that had died down while I waited my turn on the block. The blonde’s delicate fingers slid down my belly, trailing fire across my skin. I didn’t fight my whimper of delight as she reached my landing strip. She stroked up and down the thin line of my hair before they shoved between my legs. I stifled a gasp, keeping my face tranquil as her fingers probed into my pussy.

“Tight and hot,” she continued, pulling her fingers out of my cunt and holding them up to the crowd, digits glistening. “With a creamy consistency and a tangy flavor.”

Jessie turned me around and bent me over. I didn’t resist, submitting to her commands, grasping my ankles and thrusting my ass at the crowd. I trembled, feeling all those eyes on my exposed cunt. I felt so exposed, vulnerable.

Desirable.

“Look at how beautiful her slit is.” Jessie’s fingers stroked up and my vulva, making my asshole pucker. “Not a hint of her labia minora peeking out. Only her clitoris shows when she’s fully aroused.”

I let go of my ankles and, unbidden, reached behind me to spread apart my butt-cheeks. I wanted to moan as my youthful Mistress shoved two fingers into my asshole, plundering deep into my bowels. A naughty heat rushed through me.

“Mmm, her asshole is like velvet,” Jessie purred, pumping the fingers in and out. “She can take even the largest cock or dildo back here, and has no problem wearing a butt plug for extended periods.”

“One of our better slaves,” Kevin added, moving beside his wife. “I can vouch for both her enthusiasm and her aptitude. Her bloodline is exquisite. We shall start the bidding at $2 million.”

It went quick after that. Red paddles were raised and Kevin rattled off their bids. Every time a paddle raised, another $100,000 was bid. I was quickly up the $3.5 million, almost as much as 5 went for, and the bidding kept going on.

I wanted to swoon. They wanted me so much. I was such a desirable slave. I wanted to cry for joy, but held my pose instead. I couldn’t let them down with such weakness. Not now.

“It’s because who your father is,” whispered Jessie as she walked around me. “Every man wants to plunder you, and every woman wants to be touched by Him again.”

At $4.1 million, most stopped bidding. It came down to a pair going back and forth: Governor Anastasia and Cardinal Daffodil. They two women seemed to have some sort of rivalry between them that had spilled out into the auction. Anastasia and her husband Stan were Russia’s secular masters while Daffodil and her wife Addison were the ecclesiastical mistresses.

It seemed neither of these women liked the other.

“I won’t let you have her,” Daffodil declared, her blonde hair swinging about her heavy tits. She was one of the lucky girls who experienced my father’s love when he visited her college. “Addison and I are gonna enjoy this sweet, young thing.”

Anastasia tossed her long, black hair. “So you can dress her up like a cheerleader, allowing you and that slut you call a wife to relive your college days!”

Daffodil, who appeared eighteen but must be in her thirties, folded her arms beneath her rather large breasts. “While you and your husband would waste her on some desk job? You’d probably ship her off to Siberia to administrate some logging town.”

“At least she’d be useful!” spat Anastasia. “She wouldn’t be out fucking every farm girl she could lay her lazy hands on!”

“We’d at least appreciate her beauty! A pretty girl deserves to be flaunted.”

“Now ladies,” Kevin said. “We all serve the…” Both ladies fixed stares on him; he swallowed his words.

“If my wife was here and heard those words, she’d kick your scrawny ass!” declared Daffodil.

“If you could drag her out of whatever poor, peasant girl’s bed she’s fallen into. I doubt you even know what Territory she’s in, let alone the town.”

Daffodil lifted her chin. “My wife is a very lusty woman. Addison has needs, and I don’t mind her going off and scratching them.”

“This is growing tiresome,” a new voice said. A serious man—in his early twenties, a plain face with a goatee sprouting from his chin and short, neatly combed, brown hair—stepped up between the two glaring women. I wracked my mind, struggling to remember who he was. “I’ll buy the slave for $20 million just to hear an end to their petty squabbles.”

Both ladies glared at each other, then the newcomer, then back at each other. I continued searching my mind, trying to place his face. He had resources if he could drop $20 million, so he was obviously important. But he was dressed in a utilitarian suit, the type an office worker would wear, with none of the finery the other’s adorned themselves in.

“Ladies?” Kevin asked.

“Fine,” Anastasia sighed.

“Better Dean gets her than that suck up bitch,” Daffodil declared. “How Mark ever came to like a woman with such a large stick up her ass is beyond me.”

“Mark loved to stick it up my ass,” Anastasia hissed. “I was the first of his jogging sluts. What were you again? Right, some whore he gangbanged in a college locker room and promptly forgot about!”

“You bitch!” the blonde snarled.

“Come on, Ana,” Stan said, grabbing is wife. “We’ll get Steve a slave next year.”

“Yes dear,” Anastasia said, suddenly meek, sounding like she was almost a slave herself.

Daffodil called my new master Dean. I knew of only one man of importance with that first name: Dean Perry, Governor of the Territory of Oceania. His wife, Alice, was a bosom friend of the Goddess Mary. He was a powerful man to be married to a woman that close to the Goddess.

Dean motioned to two auburn-haired women—neither of whom looked older than twenty, and had matching, emerald eyes—then left the room. The two women sauntered to me, smiles on their faces. They hooked their arms through mine, collecting me and leading me through the crowd. They must be sisters; their bodies had the same build and the same heart-shaped, freckled faces.

“I’m Penny and this is Mercedes,” cooed the slightly shorter of the pair, they were about my height. She had a slight drawl to her voice, hinting at her Southern heritage. “Oh, you are just beautiful as the dawn.”

Mercedes stroked my blonde tresses as we walked down the aisle, moving between Anastasia and Daffodil still glaring at each other. “This is no good. Your eyes are absolutely the wrong color.” I blinked in surprise. They seemed like sisters, but Mercedes had a slight nasal tone to her accent like she was from New York City. “Won’t do at all. Much too blue.”

“Have you forgotten that you were a black-haired girl with brown eyes?” Penny asked Mercedes.

She just shrugged.

I didn’t speak as they lead me out of the auditorium and two a waiting limo; my training kept my tongue silent, even though I was confused by their comments and their appearances. What was wrong with my eyes? They were the same deep, sapphire blue of my Father.

A minute later, Dean strode out of the building. A pair of the Living God’s bodyguards—dressed in navy blue uniforms, the blouses half-unbuttoned to reveal their breasts, short mini-skirts that left sleek thighs bare, and knee-high, black boots—strolled up to him. They were the personal bodyguards of the Gods, lent out to their most trusted servants. Both wore tight, silver chokers about their throats.

“We found her, sir,” reported ebony-skinned 274.

The first emotion I had seen passed across my new master’s face. Pain, anger…and longing. I frowned, wondering who this her was. His fists clenched. I squirmed in the car, so many questions spilling through me.

He took a moment, then asked, “Where?”

“Manila.”

He nodded his head and climbed into the limo. The bodyguards moved up to the front, driving it. I stared at him as he leaned back in his seat. He stared out the window, his gaze distant. I itched to ask questions, to find out what this was about, but my training gripped me. It smothered my curiosity, and my excitement.

I had never flown before. I was looking forward to it.

I swallowed them all and sat with the prefect grace of a proper sex slave, letting him admire my breasts and legs if he chose. His other two slaves sat with a similar pose, though theirs also felt relaxed, not stiff like mine. They had… grown used to how they needed to sit for him.

The struggle to stay still only grew when we reached the airport. We drove through an open gate—I knew in the old world, people needed all kinds of guards, but underneath the Theocracy, the Living Gods words had enlightened humans not to hurt each other or break the laws; crime didn’t exist any longer—and onto the… runway? Tarmac? I didn’t quite know what the word was. I just knew we drove up to a festive looking plane painted with flowers on the side, its wings thrust out like it was a massive albatross.

I wanted to let out my giddy excitement.

In no time, I was following my new Master up the stairs to board the plane. I stepped in and… Blinked.

I’d always thought planes were open and full of seats. This one was a hallway and a collection of small cabins. I struggled hard not to let my confusion show, but my composure slipped ever so slightly.

“We do a lot of flying,” Mercedes said, pressing up behind me. “Master rules all of those small, Pacific islands from Hawaii to New Zealand. Plus, he rules Australia, which has a lot of cities on the coasts and almost nothing across the rest of the continent but the occasionally little dinky town around farms or ranches.”

Well, even with my expectations changed, I was still excited to fly on a plane. Before the Demon Wars, air travel was common. Now only government officials, members of the clergy, and those few folks who operated the vehicles traveled the world. Most goods, though, were transported trucks, trains, and ships. Before the Gods came, people were unhappy because they had the wrong jobs. Now the assessment tests told everyone where to work, where to live, and whom to marry. Taking away all those choices made people a lot happier.

The assessments were always right; the Gods said so.

It must have been so complicated in the past when you had to make all those decisions for yourself. How could anyone choose? Sometimes, I had trouble deciding what color ribbon to use to tie back my hair.

“Do you ever talk?” Penny asked me after I sat down in a small cabin that contained a narrow bed and small makeup table and chair.

“I have not received permission to speak, Mistress,” I answered.

Penny snorted a laugh. “We’re slaves, you can speak to us. Besides, Master and Mistress don’t mind if we have a free tongue.”

Mercedes sniffed. “Some of us have tongues too free.”.

Penny waggled her tongue at her. “I’ll show you just how free it can be tonight.”

An excited twinkle appeared in Mercedes eyes.

“May I ask a question, Miss Penny?”

“Of course, sugar,” Penny rolled her eyes. “And it’s Penny. We’ll be gettin’ to know each other real well, so don’t need to call me miss or ma’am or any of that.”

“Mercedes said my hair is the wrong color?”

“Who do we look like?” Penny asked, unbuttoning her dress. Mercedes sighed and pulled her dress over her head revealing her naked body. They were lovely, their bodies looking similar, tits perky, stomachs flat. I frowned. Both women’s pubic hair had been sculpted into a fiery heart above their slits.

“You appear similar to the Goddess,” I realized.

“Our Mistress, Alice, loves the Goddess dearly,” Mercedes explained. “She once had an affair with her and still loves her. We’re proxies.”

“Plus Master’s jealous of Mary,” Penny continued. “He gets off on using us.”

I noticed pale bruises on both of their breasts—bite marks. I received similar bruises during my training. The Theocracy’s law said a slave could be bruised and welted, so long as no blood was drawn or bones broken.

When I agreed to train to be a slave, I knew it was a possibility to end up owned by a Master or Mistress who enjoyed inflicting pain.

“And who is missing?”

“Mistress,” sighed Penny. “She’s run off with one of her lovers. She does it every few years. Master buys a new slave as a gift for her to bring her back.”

Over the next few hours, the girls used strange devices on me invented by the Holy Vizier. They didn’t just dye my hair auburn, they permanently changed my hue. It tingled when my eyes were colorized to emerald, and I gasped as small specks were burned all across my cheeks and bosom. In the mirror, I watched freckles blossom across my flesh. They smeared a cream on my pussy and a thick, red bush grew. Then they waxed me, sculpting a heart on my pubic mound identical to the Goddess’s style.

When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I never realized how close my body shape was to the Goddess. I had the same curves, the same general bust size, and the same, heart-shaped face. I could pass for one of her sisters now.

“Let’s take you to Master,” Mercedes said, nodding in satisfaction at their work.

“And don’t fret. He only hurts us when she’s missing. He let’s his passions get out of control. Now that he knows where she is, he won’t be so rough.”

“I received rough treatment during my schooling,” I answered. “Belleramine Academy prepares its girls for a life as a pain-slave.”

As we headed to the cabin at the back of the plane, Penny added, “If he calls you Mary, pretend to be the Goddess and that you’re helpless against his strength.”

“I understand,” I answered. Roleplay added a naughty spice to any encounter.

“Ready,” Mercedes asked.

“I am,” I declared as she threw the door open.

The cabin was the size of a small bedroom tucked into the tail of the plane. There was a bed, neatly made, with a dark-blue comforter over it going nicely with the deep ebony wood of the frame. Dean sat at a desk working at a laptop, a ledger spread out next to it. In a silver frame hanging on the wall before him was the photo of a beautiful, young woman with lustrous and thick, black hair.

Alice Perry; Master’s missing wife.

“I am your Goddess, Mary!” I declared, hoping my training and instincts were right. I forced myself to sound imperious. “On your knees and give worship to my radiance!”

Dean spun around on his chair, eyeing me. I held my head up confidently as the fire burned in his blue eyes. They glared daggers. “Whore! She’s gone because of you!”

“How dare you call me that!” I huffed. Role-playing was heavily emphasized in our training.

“You helped her run off! I know it was you, bitch! You always help her!”

I tossed my now auburn hair. “Of course I helped her. She’s my lover. And—”

My words were cut off as he lunged at me. In a heartbeat, his hand gripped my throat. Panic momentarily shot through me, a flood of terror that sent a spasm through my limbs to strike him. To claw out his face.

I suppressed it.

I wasn’t in control here. He was.

His hand squeezed, choking me. He was stronger than he looked, his grip iron. I struggled, just enough to excite him, my fingernails scratching at his hand, trying to pry off his digits as my breath rasped. I drew in just enough air to keep from passing out.

“Whore!”

He spun me around and threw me onto the bed. I bounced into a sprawling in a mess of limbs, my now auburn hair falling across my face. I struggled to push my locks away, my throat throbbing, bruised. The look of fear came easy as he loomed over me.

“You can’t be doing this,” I protested, letting my voice quiver. My roleplay coach would be proud of me. “I’m your Goddess!”

“You’re the dirty whore that corrupted my wife,” he snarled, unbuttoning his pants. “I’ll show you how whores are treated!”

He shoved down his slacks. His cock sprang out, shaft hard, slim, topped with a bulbous head. Precum beaded the tip. He let the pants slide off his skinny legs, and kicked them off, before advancing with like a hungry shark.

“What’re you going to do?” I quailed, shrinking against the pillows piled against the ebony headboard.

“Fuck that disgusting whore-body of yours!” he growled. I couldn’t believe he would say this to the Goddess, but it made me shiver. “I’m going to use you! You’re just a disgusting slut! Mark should have turned you out for his entire army to gangbang years ago!”

Then he leaped at me. I gasped as he was on me, pinning me down to the bed. I struggled, flailing my arms. I gasped and shouted, my legs kicking. I had to be that Goddess, shocked that this was happening, scared he would hurt me.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. He loomed over me as he held me down, his knee pressing against my groin, his shin bone rubbing against my cunt. I gasped for breath, my tits, dotted with freckles, heaving.

His eyes flicked down my body as I thrashed and moaned. My stomach arched, my pussy rubbing against his shin. I couldn’t help how wet I was. This was so exciting. I was at his mercy. He was so much stronger than me.

“Get off of me!” I hissed, but I didn’t sound as certain. My voice quivered. “Now!”

“You are such a slut, Mary,” he growled as he slipped his knee off of my crotch and settled between my thrashing thighs. His cock aimed at my pussy. He leaned down towards me, that shaft coming closer and closer to my juicy snatch. “You want this so badly! Don’t you?”

“No,” I lied. I did. This was so exciting. I was being used for my Master’s pleasure. All my training, the hard work and long nights practicing was worth it. “I don’t.”

“You do!” he growled. His cock speared me. It was a powerful, hard thrust stabbing his dick to the hilt in my sheath.

I groaned, my juicy snatch squeezing down on me. I squirmed beneath him, pinned by his weight. My pussy squeezed down on his dick as I whimpered, struggling to pull my wrists from his iron grip. I stared up at those blue eyes blazing with anger.

“No!” I pleaded. “Take it out, it hurts! You’re raping me! I’m your Goddess!”

“You’re my whore!” he roared, stabbing his cock over and over into my cunt. “And whores get fucked!”

His shaft rubbed against my sensitive flesh. The silky friction was incredible. Pleasure spilled through my body as his balls smacked into my taint. He plunged into my cunt over and over, fucking me with all his might.

It was hard keeping my passion out of my voice. It was too soon to sound like I enjoyed it. I needed to struggle longer before I submitted. I had to make sure he enjoyed himself. His pleasure was all that mattered.

“No, stop!” I screamed, putting all the fear I could into my words. I bucked harder, my thighs squeezing about his waist. “You’re hurting me.”

I bucked beneath him, fighting to rip my hands free. I didn’t fake that part, couldn’t. He held me tight as he plowed his cock into me, churning my passions. I whimpered every time his groin smashed into my clit. Every slam shot new sparks of pleasure through me.

“Please!” I whimpered. “Y-you have to stop. I… I…”

“This is what you get!” he growled, ignoring me. “Because you’re a dirty, filthy slut, Mary!”

I turned away from him, biting my lip, trying to hold back my pleasure. A small gasp escaped my lips, the first hint that I was actually enjoying this. It had to be a slow surrender. Let my Master believe he was winning me over.

I let out another little sigh, careful to keep my full passion inside me. His dick felt so incredible. My body trembled. I slowed my struggle to break free. I let my hips move, matching his thrusts into my cunt.

“You have to stop… raping me!” I whimpered. “I’m your Goddess.”

Master fucked me harder. “You like my cock, don’t you? That’s why you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” I moaned, giving his cock a gentle squeeze with my pussy. “Please, stop!”

He let go of my arms and grasped my breast, kneading hard. My pussy clamped down on his flesh. His fingers bruised my delicate flesh. The pain was exquisite. I drank it in as he churned my cunt, building a rapturous orgasm in my depths.

“You love it, don’t you?” he growled. “You’re such a whore that you can’t help yourself!”

“No, no!” I moaned, letting my lust invade my tone. “I hate this!”

“I can feel how wet you are, Mary! Your dirty cunt’s squeezing around my cock! You’re such a whore!” His fingers pinched my right nipple; one more wonderful sensation adding to the boiling in my core. Lust twisted his face as he savored the pleasure I gave him.

This is what I was born to do. I loved it.

“No, no, no!” I protested, my free hands grabbing his ass, pulling him to drive harder into my cunt. My orgasm swelled inside of me, eager to explode. I fought it off.

It was too early.

“Stop fucking me!”

Our hips slammed together. “Say it!” he hissed. “Tell me how great my cock feels!”

“It doesn’t! I hate it!” I moaned, the throaty passion giving lie to my words.

“Liar. If you hate it, why are you fucking me back?”

“Oh, no!” I gasped.

It was time.

I surrendered to the passion of his thrusts and let my orgasm exploded inside me.

I howled my euphoric rapture. I clutched him to me as pleasure rippled over and over from my pussy. It washed through my body. It reached my mind and drowned me in this wonderful delight. My pussy spasmed about his dick.

His cock kept fucking me, spurring me to higher and higher plateaus of passion. I savored the bliss. I gasped and moaned as I writhed beneath him, my tits aching in his squeezing hand. Stars danced across my vision.

“I love your cock!” I screamed in his ear. “Harder! Fuck me harder!”

“I’m the best you’ve ever had, huh, whore?” he growled, pinching my nipple hard.

“Yes! The very best! Oh, fuck, I’m still cumming!”

He drove once more into me. His whole body tensed, his face squeezing shut as his seed erupted into my hungry depths. One last, wonderful climax speared through me. My Master came inside me; I satiated him, crushing his weight to my breasts as we were whipped by the winds of our passions, rocked in a storm of lust.

His cum spurted over and over into me. My pussy milked him. The rapture melted my mind. For a wonderful, ecstatic eternity, I was just pleasure bursting inside of me. I clutched my Master to me and reveled in our shared pleasure. It carried me so high and then…

It was over. I was left buzzing in euphoric bliss.

He collapsed atop me. Our breaths came in ragged gasps. “Oh, Master,” I cooed, kissing his neck and chin. “Oh, Master, thank you, thank you.”

He rolled off me and stared up at the ceiling. I smiled, running my fingers lazily through the mess between my thighs. He didn’t say anything, his skinny chest rising and falling beneath his still buttoned up dress shirt, sweat ringing around the collar.

I savored the afterglow, a big smile on my lips. I buzzed from the delight of serving him. It was amazing. I was so satiated. This was everything that I wanted out of being a slave. To give myself utterly to my Master.

“You can go…” He paused, still panting. “What is your name, slave?”

“Sally,” I answered.

“You can go, Sally.”

“Of course, Master,” I answered as I stood, a little unsteady on my feet. My nerves still tingled from my orgasms.

As I opened the door, he said, “You were worth every dollar.”

“Thank you, Master,” I answered, smiling at him.

The poor man. His wife’s constant infidelities seemed to have robbed him of his self-confidence and made him feel inadequate. I tried to keep my negative thoughts about my new Mistress out of my mind, but if I wasn’t his slave, I think I would shake her shoulders and scream at her for what she was doing. Her husband was suffering. She should just divorce him and set him free. She should let him find happiness with another woman or man or whomever he wanted.

I found the cabin I shared with Penny and Mercedes. It was nothing more than a bed. There was no room to walk around it. They were in the middle of a vigorous sixty-nine while I just wanted to sleep. It was a long, exciting day for me.

I plopped down on the bed beside them, their moans muffled. It was such a sweet sound: two women loving each other. I rolled onto my side, my back to them. I thought about Master, my breasts aching from his passion. I drifted into a light sleep.

I woke up to something nuzzling my pussy.

I blinked. I was on my back. I though I fell asleep on my side and… “Oh, my god!”

Penny nuzzled her mouth into my pussy and licked. I shuddered, shocked by the sudden assault of her tongue on my snatch. Before I could even react, process what was happening, Mercedes waxed-bare pussy descended to my lips and smothered me.

She tasted refreshing, tart and tangy.

The three of us were a mess when we finally collapsed into a true sleep. I woke when the plane landed in Los Angeles for refueling. Then went back to sleep for the long flight across the Pacific to the Philippines.

On the boring flight, I pleasured Master two more times, both times playing Mary and letting my Master “rape” me.

The local Executive who administrated the Philippines for Dean met us with a limo while the bodyguards drove escort vehicles. Manila, like many cities, had been devastated during the Demon Wars, so the Theocracy architects and engineers oversaw its rebuilding. All the new construction resembled neighborhoods and buildings in Washington D.C. The main cathedral looked identical to the one back home, and I could name each of the local Governmental buildings we passed. That one was the Department of Education because of the L shape the building had, and that one belonged to the Department of Justice because of the statue of Chasity before steps that led up to a large, glass entrance. We entered a residential neighborhood. The houses were all one of the seventeen approved family dwellings, or the seven approved apartment tenement building. The latter only varied by height.

The only way I could tell it wasn’t Washington D.C. were the palm trees and the remnants of old Manila. There were older buildings that showed some individuality and choice. I wondered why those weren’t torn down. Then everything would the same. I’m sure it would make the people of Manila happier. They dressed just like they did back home, safety officer wore the same uniforms, government workers wore their suits, laborers wore their blue coveralls, and farmers their blue jeans and wide-brimmed hats.

The convoy climbed a hill into a new neighborhood and stopped before a gray house. It was the same precise shade as every other house on the street, each of their lawns coming in one of three styles, moving around the large tree’s position.

“271 has occupied this house, sir,” 274 reported from the front seat of the limo, speaking through the open window that screened the back section from her. “She has a few x-ray cameras pointed at where your wife is.”

X-ray cameras? Were those like the machines dentists used to look at your teeth? I shivered in delight at the new things I was learning.

Master climbed out of the limo and the there of us followed. He marched right into the house where 271 waited. The family who lived here, all possessing the same dusky-brown of the other Filipinos we passed in the street, bowed to Dean, then retreated upstairs.

“Sir,” 271, an ivory skinned with huge breasts that seemed barely constrained by her uniform, said.

She sat before a TV with headphones over her ears. A camera on a tripod was set up next to her, pointed at the next door house. I peered out the window at the target house, its windows covered by thick drapes. I frowned because when I looked at the TV, I could see into a bedroom through the wall like it wasn’t there.

It wasn’t a strange, blown-out image of white teeth like at from the dentist. This was in full color. It was incredible. I shivered, studying it them smiling as I noticed a couple writhed in a passionate embrace on the bed. Then I realized who the woman was.

It was Alice. She rode the man, his dark hands groping her small breasts.

“If you care to sit, sir,” 271 said as she gained her feet, her large tits jiggling.

Dean nodded and sat down in he seat. “Let’s hear it.”

271 pulled her headphones out of the jack.

“Fuck me!” moaned the man through speakers. I shivered, it was such clear sound, like he was in the room with us. “Ride my cock, Alice! I love it!”

“Yes, yes!” she moaned, full of passion. “I love your cock, Marco! Oh, fuck! I love it!”

“Cum for me, my love!” moaned the man.

“I am, Marco!” Her back arched, his hands rolling pink nipples between his fingers. “Oh, yes! I love it!”

She kept riding him, leaning over so her black hair fell in a curtain about their faces, hiding them. Sounds of passionate kissing echoed through the speakers. I squirmed as Dean’s jaw tightened. A vein fluttered in his temple.

Alice squealed when Marco flipped them over. He thrust hard into her pussy. The bed rocked, knocking the headboard into the wall, adding a staccato bang to their lovemaking. I squirmed, a strange embarrassing lust shooting through me.

“I love it!” she gasped. “Cum in me, my love!”

Master’s face grew tighter. Pain clenched his forehead as sweat broke out across his brow. His hand lashed out and yanked Mercedes down by her auburn hair. She pulled his cock out and sucked it into her lips. His hand planted on the back of her head, forcing her to deep-throat him as he watched his wife and her lover’s passionate embrace.

The sounds of Mercedes bobbing her head, fucking her mouth and throat up and down Master’s cock, mixed with the pleasures moaning from the other room. I shifted, my pussy on fire. I wanted to masturbate.

But I was a good slave.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Alice moaned over and over. “I love you! Keep fucking me!”

Dean shoved Mercedes’s head all the way down his cock, muttering under his breath. He grunted, and it took me a moment to realize he was dumping his cum down her throat. In less than a minute, Master had shot off his load down my fellow slave’s throat.

His humiliation turned him on. But I could he heated it. Such bitterness flashed across his face. He stared at the screen, his teeth grinding together. He let go of Mercedes, and she stumbled back gasping for breath, drool running down her throat.

Marco let out a low moan. He thrust into Alice, his back arching. He was cumming in her. After a moment, collapsed on her, satiated himself. “You are so beautiful,” Marco whispered. “My lovely peach.”

She snuggled against his muscular body, her fingers toying with his black chest hair. “You are so insatiable,” she purred. “I love it.”

Marco glanced at the clock. “I need to go to work.”

“Bah, stay in bed with me all day,” she smiled. “Have your wife call in sick for you and make love to me.”

Marco and his wife would have been matched at a young age, selected for compatible personality and sexual orientations by the aptitude tests and their school teachers. Just because they were married didn’t mean they couldn’t take lovers, though.

“I’ll get in trouble,” he protested. “I called in just three days ago.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“Of course I do! You are the fire of my life.”

“That’s nice,” she giggled. “Tell me more.”

“My soul sings praise to your heavenly beauty. You are my goddess, the most beautiful woman in all creation! Your breasts are perfect, round and lush and your hips drive me to distraction. Your lips are full, pouty and made to be kissed by me.”

She reward those words by kissing him. Not long, but enough to make him groan atop her. Then she purred, “I love you so much, Marco. So stay home with me.”

“Enough!” Dean snarled almost like he hoped the couple in the other house could hear him. “274, send in your guards!”

“At once, sir.” The black bodyguard saluted. “275, 273 take the front. 271, 272 the rear. 276, you stay with me to guard our client.”

“Ma’am,” the five other bodyguard’s saluted.

I watched in astonishment as they surged out of the room. There was a strength to the bodyguard’s movements, a violence of purpose I had never witnessed. They raced out of the house, their guns drawn. I shivered, once guns killed thousands every day, and now only the bodyguards carried them. Mankind was free of crime. We all obeyed the Gods’ laws. People only died from sickness, accidents, and old age.

I trembled realizing just how powerful my new Master was. He was one step beneath the Gods themselves. Beneath my Father.

I don’t think I had ever been wetter in my life.

I followed my Master out into the street. With folded arms, he watched as 275 and 273 flanked the front door while 271 and 272 circled the house to the backyard. They moved with such danger. I had never met anyone I thought would actually harm me until now. Not hurt me in sort of sexual roleplay like Master did on the plane, but do my lasting damage.

These women knew how to commit violence.

I wasn’t sure what set them off, but all four acted at an wordless command. 275 crashed her shoulder into the door, darting in followed by 273. From the backyard came more splintering wood. There was a frightened shout from a woman—probably Marco’s wife.

“Clear,” 274’s voice cracked over the radio. “We have a female, a male, and Alice in custody. Everything is secure.”

Dean rushed to the house. I followed.

Through the ruined door I found a plain, dark skinned woman kneeling in the center of the kitchen, her face calm. She obeyed the bodyguards. Every citizen knew the Gods’ Third Commandments: Obey representatives of the Theocracy without hesitation.

Everyone recognized a member of the Bodyguard.

They were elite women, only three hundred members, who guarded the Gods and their favored servants. These women were all veterans of the Demon Wars. Some had even helped to overthrow the False God Brandon and defended the Gods during the Miracle.

Dean didn’t even look at Marco’s wife. He strode past her to the bedroom. I followed. The room reeked of passion—a salty, tangy, sour musk. Marco knelt calmly on the floor, watched over by another pair of bodyguards. Alice lounged on the rumpled bed, not covering her nakedness, her thighs obscenely spread to show the result of their fucking. Faint bruises marked her breasts and neck. No, they were hickeys.

“You finally found me,” she said then smiled at her husband. “Took long enough.” She sounded as calm as if she had just woken up from a sleep.

Dean stared down at Marco and growled, “Your job, citizen!”

“Code inspector, City of Manila, Territory of the Philippines, District of Oceania, sir!” he answered promptly.

“Not any longer,” Dean growled. “You work the mines. 275, see that he’s chastised.”

“Right away, sir,” 275 answered and the two bodyguards dragged Marco out of the room.

“Must you always banish my lovers to the mines?” Alice sighed. “And 275, tell them not to hit him.”

275 froze, glancing at Dean. When he didn’t contradict Alice, she saluted and left the room.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Dean demanded of his wife, his face twisted with pain. His eyes were so hard, almost attacking her

“Because a woman needs to feel passion in her life,” she answered, facing him calmly. “To be loved and adored.” She gave a wicked giggle. “And Marco is very cute.”

“I love you, Alice.”

There was so much pain in his voice. I wanted to hug him. Comfort him. Didn’t this horrible woman see what her actions were doing to him? Did she not care that she shredded his soul with her behavior?

I ignored my training and allowed myself to hate my Mistress.

“You’re terrible at showing you love me, Dean.” Her eyes narrowed, annoyance creeping into her words. “You get too caught up in your work. So, of course my eyes are going to wander.”

“And the fact that I care enough to track you down every time you disappear on one of you affairs…” His eyes widened. “That’s why you do this? To see if I still love you?”

“Partly.”

“Partly? What does that mean?”

A dreamy smile flitted across her face. “I also fall in love.”

“You love Marco?” he asked, his face falling, his voice trembling.

“I loved all of them.” She sighed. “Our loves were great bonfires burning brightly. But the fuel doesn’t last long and the fire burns out. I was already finding Marco tiresome. He was always wanting to work instead of paying attention to me.”

“So you don’t love me?” Dean demanded, the anger returning.

She slipped out of the bed, walked over to him, and threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened but didn’t pull away. “I love you deeply,” she told him, staring into his eyes. “Our love is the stone our life together is built on—our foundation. It maybe boring, but it’s strong and lasting. Strong enough to weather any obstacle.”

“Like your infidelities.” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation.

“Yes, and your negligence. But I am sorry for hurting you. These fiery loves burn so bright, it blinds me to our love.”

“That’s why you hurt me so much?” he roared, grabbing her arms and pushing her away from him. “Because you forget you love me?”

“It hurts me when you ignore me.” Her hazel eyes were fierce. “But you can’t ignore me when I disappear.” She pressed against him and purred with wanton passion. “Instead, you track me down and show just how much you love me. Look at you. You’re full of passion. It makes me feel so alive!”

She kissed him. I wanted Master to throw her away. I wanted him to rebuke her. To tell her what a terrible woman she was. I wanted him to leave her behind and let her live her here in this hovel with her lover.

Instead, they melted together, becoming one. I blinked at that. His hands slid down her back to her ass, pulling her naked body tight to him. She moaned, arms wrapped about his neck, clinging to him as their tongues worked together. Despite the fact she still dripped with her lover’s seed—that she betrayed him—he felt this for her?

Just because people were free to take lovers, didn’t mean they should do it to hurt their spouse. Clearly, Marco’s wife didn’t mind his affair with Alice. It wasn’t hidden from her. Marco didn’t run off like Alice did, not telling his wife where he went.

And my Master still loved her. The poor man.

They fell onto the bed tangled about each other. She writhed beneath him. Her hands moving down his body. She attacked his belt and his fly. She reached in and produced his cock. My pussy clenched in memory of that wonderful dick.

She stroked it and guided it between thighs to her cum-filled pussy. Their lips still locked together as she pressed his dick right into her pussy. He groaned into her mouth and then thrust into her depths with power.

He fucked her. Hard. Fast. It wasn’t lovemaking or even fucking.

It was pure, animalistic rutting.

The bed pounded against the headboards. Their bodies writhed together. She ripped off his shirt, buttons flying across her body. He threw it off, still thrusting into her, growling. They didn’t speak any words as he grasped her tits, squeezing them. Her fingernails scratched left red tracks across his back.

My pussy was molten. I felt their lust washing off of them in powerful waves that swept through the room. They buffeted me. They left me reeling. I whimpered, confused. They were so powerful. They swirled around me.

“I bet you’re so horny,” Penny whispered in my ear.

I let out a wanton moan, unable to look away. To speak.

Her naked body pressing against my back, her nipples two hard points and her pubic hair soft as silk on my ass. Her fingers walked around my hips and followed the V of my pubic bone to my pussy. I gasped as she caress my pussy before sliding into my molten depths.

“They always are like this after they reunite,” Penny continued.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Alice gasped. “Take me, husband! Make me forget Marco!”

“You’re my wife!” he grunted. “Mine!”

“I am! Oh, fuck!” She screamed her climax for all of Manila to hear.

He kept fucking her as she bucked and writhed, her tits gripped in his hand. I couldn’t look away as Penny’s fingers pumped in and out of my juicy snatch. I shuddered, the heel of her hand grinding on my clit. Her lips were soft as she nibbled at my neck.

I had never seen anything like the passion my Master and his wife shared. I hardly felt Penny’s fingers as they pumped inside of me. What writhed before me was raw. Passion at its purest. At its most potent, distilled to remove love, tenderness, compassion, shame, degradation. Even hatred and anger were gone.

Only lust remained.

I came on Penny’s fingers so many times as I witnessed my Master’s passion. I hardly even felt her fingers as they pumped in and out of my cunt. They just churned me to a froth. Waves of bliss washed through me as I kept watching my Master fuck his wife.

They used so many positions. He must have taken a magical Viagra because he came in her mouth, her pussy, and her ass over and over. The room filled with scent of their mixed pussy juices and his salty cum. The bed was soaked cunt cream and ropy spunk.

I whimpered and moaned, trembling in Penny’s embrace as Master made Alice forget about anything but his cock. She worshiped it. She was his whore. His slut. She sucked his cock clean after he fucked her asshole. She guzzled his cum with delight, then flipped around and begged him to fuck her cunt again and again.

Finally, they collapsed.

I gasped, another orgasm surging through me. My clit throbbed, aching from too much sensation. My knees quivered as my Master’s arms wrapped around his wife. He held her from behind, spooning her, his fingers playing with her breasts while he nuzzled at her neck.

A happy smile filled her face. “I love you, Dean,” she moaned. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“Maybe next time I won’t come after you,” he whispered.

“You will. You love me,” she stated with conviction.

“Which makes me more the fool for putting up with this.” Despite the rapture burning inside of me, I wanted to cry at how bitter he sounded, so hopeless.

Tears welled in her hazel eyes. “I don’t deserve your love,” she whispered. “I’m a terrible person. But I do love you. It’s because you seem to care about me despite my flaws. You’re a better person than I’ll ever be, Dean.”

Master turned Alice’s face and wiped away her tear. “Why can’t you just stop running away from me?”

“I’ll try.” She sniffed. “If you try to show you love me more often.”

“I’ll work on it.”

Neither sounded convincing.

Alice gaze found me trembling. Her eyes lit up. “She looks just like Mary. Is she my new toy?”

“I paid $20 million for her,” Master answered.

Alice smiled at me like I was a piece of expensive jewelry. “Come here and clean my pussy up,” she said. “I love seeing Mary’s face from between my thighs.”

I knelt at the bed, trying to hide my hatred of this woman. Why did they stay together? No, no, I must not judge my owner. I agreed to be a slave, but…

I buried my face in her cunt. My tongue lapped through her folds, gathering up Master’s yummy cum. Why couldn’t I just belong to him? I forced that thought down. I couldn’t think it. I choose this life.

I was a slave. I couldn’t decide who I pleasured. Master gave me to Alice. I was her gift, her toy.

Forever.

That… made my pussy burn.

The END of Sally’s Tale

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