The Devil’s Pact Slave Chronicles Chapter 5: Via, Freedom

 

 

The Devil’s Pact Slave Chronicles

Chapter Five: Via, Freedom

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2015


Story Codes: Female/Female, Mind Control, Watersports, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, Domination/submission

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 4.



Note: Mary gave Mark’s sister Via to be her sex slave.

Thursday, June 27th, 2013 – Avialle “Via” Willard – South Hill, WA

“Listen carefully, Avialle,” my Mistress said to me as we sat on our bed. She used my full name and held my hands gently and lovingly. I was lost gazing in her hazel eyes.

I had only been Antsy’s slave for a week-and-a-half. My former Mistress, Mary, had given me to this wonderful, outgoing woman. Before me, Antsy hadn’t had a lot of experience with women, and I was her guide into the delights only one woman could impart to another. We kissed, sucked, and licked every inch of the other’s delectable flesh, and my Mistress was generous enough to share her urine with me, filling my mouth with her delicious piss at least twice a day.

“Okay, Mistress,” I answered with a smile. She was so beautiful with a heart-shaped face; luxurious, black hair that I loved to stroke; big eyes; and plump, oh-so-kissable lips. My heart beat faster. Her hands were warm silk on mine and her spicy perfume left me feeling heady; I was drunk on her. Those lips were so inviting.

I leaned in to kiss her.

Her finger pressed against my lip. “Wait, we have something very important to discuss.” She took a deep breath. “For the next twenty-four hours you are free to make your own decisions and you are not under my control.”

My thoughts suddenly cleared, a fog dissolving in the light of the morning sun. “I…what…” My cheeks colored as I remembered the last week-and-a-half. “Oh, damn. What did you do to me?”

Antsy shifted uncomfortably. “My future sister-in-law, well, she mind-controlled you. And I…I’ve come to care for you. You’re a wonderful, exciting woman and I just don’t feel like forcing you to anything, even if you enjoyed it. Deep inside me, I could just feel how wrong it was.”

I bit my lip, my thoughts whirling. “Now what?” Should I be angry? I was only confused.

“I want you to think about this last week. If you want to be free, I’ll set you free,” Antsy answered. “Just…I think you’re wonderful and I’m very sorry for my role in what happened to you. But I want to keep being your Mistress.”

I swallowed. I was made her slave. I enjoyed being her slave. I want to kiss those lips. I want to claw out her eyes. “Shit,” I muttered. “I…fucking shit.”

Then I fled.

My beat-up, shitty Honda civic survived yesterday’s attack with only a single bullet hole. The bullet hole was hard to spot in the dented, right fender. It had been scary when the nun-controlled SWAT officers attacked Mark’s house.

I put that out of my mind. I hopped into my car, started the engine, and drove off.

I was so confused. I needed to talk with someone. I texted Diane; she’d know what to do. I knew Diane from a lesbian club in Tacoma, the Clam Diver. In fact, Diane and introduced me to Mary. They were friends, which kind of concerned me. But I also trusted Diane. I knew she would help me out.

“Cum over sugar,” Diane texted back. “Got a few girls over. Will figure out.”

It took me about a half-hour to drive to Diane’s apartment in Fife. I had to fight through the notoriously bad traffic on Pacific Highway to get there. She lived up on the second floor and I climbed the concrete stairs quickly, breathing heavily as I knocked on her doors.

“Hey, Via,” Diane smiled as she opened her door, a glass of white wine in her hand. “Come in.”

Diane had thick, curly black hair that fell about her shoulders and framed a porcelain face set with pouty lips and deep, brown eyes. She was dressed casually, a flowery top that left most of her shoulders and chest bare, held up only by a pair of spaghetti straps and a tight pair of white jeans.

I gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek and followed her in. “Hi,” I said to the two women. I recognized both from the club. The first I always had thought of as Orange because of the garish shade she dyed her hair, but Diane introduced her as Kristina. The other girl, Sarai, was a dusky-skinned, Arab woman with a nice, round set of tits that filled out a bustier-like halter top. I had never buried my face between those tits, but I had wanted to; Sarai could be a shy girl at times.

Diane produced a glass of wine and sat me down on the couch between her and Sarai. “Now, what’s the problem you’re having? Is it that girl you brought to the club last week?”

I nodded my head. “Antsy.”

Kristina giggled, “What kind of name is Antsy?”

“What’s wrong with that?” I found myself snapping defensively. “It’s cute! Short for Samantha.”

“Sorry,” Kristina muttered. “It’s just not…well…” she sighed. “Sorry. I always seem able to insert foot into mouth with alarming ease.”

“I…yeah, it’s okay,” I muttered. “God, how do I explain it. You know Mary, right, Diane?”

A smile crept up on her lips. “Umm, isn’t she just delicious.”

“That’s the redhead with the gorgeous, emerald eyes?” Kristina asked. “Oh, god she was amazing. I remember that dance I shared with her… Fuck, that was hot! I came right there on the dance floor humping her thigh.”

Diane’s laugh was rich, fond. “That was a fun night.”

“Well, you know she can get people to do things, right? You’ve seen the news. The miracle.”

“The Hoax?” Kristina asked. “Yeah, I had a good chuckle.”

“That wasn’t a hoax. I was there. Antsy is Mark’s sister, and we both watched him get shot and lie their dying before he came back to life. Mark and Mary have powers. You’ve all seen the news about what Mark can do. They both can makes people do things. And they made me Antsy’s sex slave.”

“Really?” Sarai asked, an excited glint popping into her dark eyes. “I mean, that sounds awful.”

Diane gave Sarai a side-long glance. “I think we have a budding sub here. Do you want to be my little slave?”

“Um, no,” Sarai answered, shifting on the couch. Her nipples gave away the lie of her words as they were suddenly dimpling her top.

“Anyway, Antsy freed me from their control. She feels it’s wrong to make me her slave against my will. She’s falling for me or something. So she gave me the choice: freedom or slavery.”

“That’s kinda romantic,” Sarai sighed.

“Really?” I asked. “I don’t know. Making someone your slave doesn’t feel that romantic to me.”

“But she set you free,” Sarai pressed on excitedly. “She wants you to submit to her willingly.”

“I think someone really wants to be dominated,” purred Diane. “I can tie you up, if you want?”

Sarai flushed.

“Well, Via, what do you want?” Diane asked me.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “It’s all mixed up inside me. She’s beautiful, fun, out-going, everything I like in a girlfriend. Even knowing they forced me to be her slave, I had fun with her.”

“Could you live without ever seeing Antsy again?” Diane asked me.

Could I? A pang filled my heart just thinking about not seeing her again. I downed my wine in a single gulp.

“Another?” Diane asked.

“I think so,” I sighed.

Diane grabbed the glass and disappeared into her kitchen for a moment; my eyes couldn’t help but follow the sway of her curvy ass. When Diane came back she had a naughty smile painted on her porcelain face.

I took the drink from her and then almost spilled it as Diane’s hand lashed out and grabbed Sarai’s black hair, yanking the girl violently off the couch and throwing her to the beige carpet. The Arab woman sputtered, staring up at Diane in surprise and something else.

Was that lust I saw in Sarai’s dark eyes?

“What was that for, Diane?” Sarai gasped.

Diane pushed her bare foot into Sarai’s mouth, violently sticking her toes into the poor girls lips. “Suck them, slut!” Diane commanded.

Kristina slid next to me; her perfume was light, flowery, intoxicating. I could feel her excited breath on my neck, the lust trembling through her body as she pressed against me. Her hand found my bare thigh beneath my skirt; passion ignited within me.

Sarai sucked Diane’s toes in her mouth, a loud noise filled the room, like a baby worrying a pacifier. “You like my dirty toes, slut?” Diane demanded. “I know your type. You just want some sexy, powerful woman to treat you like the horny slut you are!”

Sarai didn’t answer; she just sucked.

“Just like that nun on the airplane! She dominated you and popped your cherry,” Diane moaned. “Just remember how Sister Louise dominated you and took your virginity. Embrace that feeling, because I’m going to do the same.”

Sarai moaned, sucking harder

“God, she’s such a freak,” Kristina whispered in my ear; her lips so close I could almost feel her kiss upon my sensitive lobe.

Which one was the freak? Sarai, who was getting off on being forced to suck Diane’s dirty toes; or Diane, who was thoroughly enjoying degrading the dusky beauty?

Maybe they both were.

Drink my piss, slut! Antsy’s words echoed in my head and the memory of her pussy lingered on my lips as she unleashed a flood of her dirty urine into my mouth. I licked my lips; suddenly thirsty for her bounty.

Was I a freak too?

Kristina’s hand on my thigh slid higher and higher, dipping beneath my skirt. Her lips were fire on my cheek, melting my pussy. I turned my face; blue eyes filled my vision and her lips were mere inches from mine. Red. Moist. Plump. Just begging to be kissed; for my lips to nibble passionately on hers.

Our lips met as her fingers found my bare pussy unencumbered by panties. My passion drown me, pleasure flooding through my body as her fingers gently stroked my vulva. I moaned, my hips bucked, and she kissed me harder and shoved two fingers deep inside my hole.

“Pull my pants down with your teeth, slut!” I distantly heard Diane shout.

“Yes, Mistress,” Sarai answered.

I was barely aware of the Arab woman’s domination as I was lost to the currents of rapture tossing me like a piece of debris. Kristina’s tongue and fingers worked both my lips into a frenzy of passion. Orgasms kept surging through me, and all I could do was give cry to my pleasure and tremble as helpless as a leaf in the rapids.

“You can do better!” Diane shouted. “Tug my pants down. I want to feel that tongue shoved between my thighs.”

Kristina’s fingers dug deeper inside me, exploring my depths in their quest to find my G-spot while her thumb ground against my clit. She massaged my bud in slow circles, propelling me farther and farther down the river of my pleasures. A new scent filled my nose: tangy and sweet.

My own pussy.

“That’s it slut!” Diane moaned. “That’s it! Now my panties! And god help you if you tear them!”

“I won’t, Mistress,” Sarai panted.

Did I want that? Did I want to be used and humiliated by Antsy?

The exploring fingers finally found what they had been searching for—my G-spot. That wonderful bundle of nerves that sent a raging torrent through my body that swept me to a new level of passion. I was lost in the powerful force of my orgasm as every nerve in my body churned with passion.

Glorious, amazing, stupendous passion.

I came back slowly; confused. I sat up and saw a satisfied look on Kristina’s face as she sucked on her sticky fingers. “What happened?” I asked.

“You passed out,” Kristina smugly stated. “I made you cum so hard you completely lost it!”

“Eat my pussy, slave!” Diane moaned. I glanced over to see Sarai’s face buried deep into Diane’s snatch. Which did I want to be? Slave or Mistress? Part of me wanted Antsy licking between my thighs, eager to please me, but there were definitely times I wanted to be humiliated and dominated by her.

Kristina leaned over. “Now it’s your turn to make me scream.”

I licked my lips; nodded my head. Slipping to the floor, I spread her thighs open and saw a red thong barely covering her pussy. There was a noticeable wet spot. I reached in and she raised her ass up as I yanked the scrap of cloth down. Her vulva was swollen with her lust and thick pussy lips protruded out.

I ducked in and licked at her tangy flavor, tracing her left labia up to her budding clit. She shivered and moaned, her hands wrapping about my black hair streaked with red highlights, using my locks to pull my lips tighter into her pussy.

“I hear you like to drink piss,” Kristina purred. “I hope that’s true.”

I felt her body tense momentarily, then she relaxed and a stream of piss splashed into my lips. I clamped onto her urethra and swallowed the disgusting, acrid drink as fast as I could. It was so degrading—my pussy ached to be touched.

I drank and drank, savoring every last drop as my fingers rapidly jilled my pussy. I was being used as her toilet. I was an object to satisfy her perverse desire. I submitted to her, let her used me, and enjoyed being humiliated.

I was a freak. A piss drinking freak.

“You dirty slut!” Kristina moaned. “Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to piss in a woman’s mouth!”

Unfortunately, the stream petered out, and I sent my tongue questing for any errant drops that may have clung to her lips. I sucked every fold of her flower into my lips, then wiggled my tongue deep inside her. The acrid taste gave way to her tangy flavor and Kristina sighed and panted as her hips began to writhe.

“Eat my pussy!” she purred. “You dirty, piss drinking whore! I love it! Oh, fuck! I’m going to cum! Oh, my god! Oh, fucking yes!”

A new flood poured into my lips as she came. I held onto her for dear life as her hips rose off the couch as her entire body spasmed in pleasure. I drank her girl-cum down as eagerly as her piss while she screamed my name over and over until she collapsed.

“Holy shit, you are one wild slut!” Kristina smiled as her eyes fluttered open.

“I am,” I admitted.

I knew what I had to do.

Antsy had a hopeful look on her face when she opened the door and saw me. “I…hello,” she stammered, suddenly shy and nervous. “Um…why don’t you come in?”

“I’ve made my decision,” I told her. “I don’t want to be your slave.”

She looked so crest fallen, my words letting the air out of her and she deflated like a tire crushed beneath the weight of her hopes. Tears brimmed in her hazel eyes. “I…I understand. We can go see my brother and he can free you.”

“Antsy,” I said and suddenly I was nervous and almost tongue-tied. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“What?” she blinked in stunned surprise. I don’t know if she could look more dazed then if I had snuck behind her and hit her in the head.

“I know this great Japanese steakhouse,” I continued before I lost my nerves.

“Are you asking me on a date?” I could see the hope blossoming in her eyes.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “I don’t want to be your slave, but I could be your girlfriend.” She gave me my freedom, but all I wanted was to be with her. Together. Equals. I don’t know where our relationship would go. Maybe we’d only last the week, maybe we’d spend the rest of our lives together. I didn’t know.

I just wanted to find out how it would all play out.

A smile crept across her face. “Sure. I think I’d like that.” She hesitated, clearly wanting to ask me a question.

“Yes, I’ll still drink your piss,” I answered. “I kinda developed a taste for it.”

A flush crept slowly across her cheeks. “No…um…maybe I could…well…drink your piss. And sometimes, maybe you could dominate me.”

“Sure, Antsy. We can switch.” I leaned in and gave her a big kiss on the lips. “Now let’s go, I’m starved.”

“Sure,” she smiled then it was her turn to kiss me. “I think I love you.”

“You only think?” I asked in a mock, scandalous tone.

“No. I love you, Via.”

To my surprise, I didn’t hesitate to answer, “I love you right back.”

Click here for Chapter 6.

There’s a new poll out! The Devil’s Pact Slave Chronicle 5: Freedom! What shall be released next? You can vote here!

I have released a part 13 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!

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