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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 Tales from the Orgy Chapter 5.

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Thursday, June 6th, 2013 – Fatima Tawfeek – South Hill, WA

I stood trembling in the crowd, my hands clutching at my shaylah covering my head as I stared at the naked man. Why was I just standing here? Why had I did I leave the DVD section, walk across the store, and then stand here and watch the debauchery unfold? I stood here as the man, Mark, fucked a woman named Erin. She gasped and moaned behind Mark as another man fucked her. Beside her, another woman, who worked at the Buy Best, also gasped as she was fucked. A line of horny men queued behind her.

I just came in to get a new cell phone. Not to watch such sin. This was terrible.

It reminded me of my one depreciable desires. I was a good Muslim girl, not a wicked, sinful, Western harlot. So why couldn’t I walk away? Why did I stare at the man, Mark Glassner? He paced back and forth, eying us like a hungry jackal

“You two blondes, the Middle-Eastern girl, and you with the big tits, come forward!” he commanded.

His words slammed into me. I was the only Middle-Eastern girl here, the only woman properly covering her hair with the shaylah and wearing a conservative dress to hide my body from men’s gazes.

And women’s.

I couldn’t stop my body. He was some sort of shaitan. He had cast a spell over me, making me obey him. I stood with the other three women. He eyed us, his cock bouncing before him. It was still wet with the woman’s sex.

What did her juices taste like?

No. I had to stop those sinful thoughts. Be a good Muslim girl.

“Names?”

“Marcy,” said the busty, tall girl with raven-black hair with a hungry, wanton purr.

“I’m Fatima,” I said, my cheeks burning. I was only nineteen-years-old. I shouldn’t see anything like this. I was a virgin. I had never been married. I should not see a naked man. This was so wrong.

“I’m Veronica,” the blonde with the bad bleach job and red highlights added. The way her breasts bounced as she shifted on her heels caught my eyes. Such sinfully tight clothing.

“I’m Ashley,” the other blonde said, and her breasts were even larger. So round. So lush. Her gray eyes tared down at Mark’s cock with the same apprehension I had.

“Ladies, pick a partner and start fucking,” he commanded, his words iron chains about my soul. Then he glanced at the guards. “If they choose you, do what they want.”

I turned, scanning the crowd. I had to pick someone. Not the men. They were all so disgusting. I had to fuck someone, no matter if it was a sin. Mark spoke and I had to obey him. I was compelled. My gaze stopped on a beautiful woman, a curly brunette. She worked for Buy Best. A nametag pinned to her blue polo read, Lucy.

My lusts surged. She was perfect. I was already sinning so why not indulge my curiosity.

I moved forward and took her hand. Her eyes were wide, fearful even, but she did not resist as I knelt before her. My hands reached up and unfastened her khaki pants. I bit my lip, my sex growing so hot. I pulled first her pants and then her panties.

Her pussy was shaved bare except for a small strip of soft, brown hair leading to the top of her sex. My eyes widened at seeing another woman’s pussy up close. I had fantasized about this so many times when I shamefully surrendered to my body’s foul lusts.

If only my pussy was circumcised, but that was illegal in the US. If I had been circumcised and had my sinful, engorged flesh cut away, then I could have controlled myself.

I pressed my face into her pussy. I had to fuck her. I knew this was how women did it. They licked each other. My tongue flicked out and slid through her hot, juicy, spicy, tart flesh. I groaned, loving the flavor and licked her again.

And again.

My hands seized her ass, pressing her against my mouth. I couldn’t stop licking her. I had to fuck her. I had to obey Mark and enjoy myself. For the first time in my life, I indulge in my lesbian desires. It was wonderful.

“Oh, shit,” Lucy moaned. “Jesus, what the fuck…oh, crap! Ohhh, that feels nice. Mhhh, tongue my clit.”

I did. I circled her pink nub, my every breath full of her spicy tartness.

* * *

Thursday, June 20th, 2013 – Puyallup, WA

I sat in my car, staring at the Eagles Club in downtown Puyallup.

Why was I here? I didn’t plan on coming to the support group, and yet I couldn’t stay away. What if she showed up tonight? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I could not stop thinking about her since the incident in the Buy Best two weeks ago. When I closed my eyes to go to sleep, her cherub face surrounded by brown curls, appeared before me.

Lucy.

We spent that entire morning together in the Buy Best. Engaging in perversity. In sihaq. I had prayed and prayed for Allah the Merciful to forgive me. Not for engaging in a carnal act with a woman, that was out of my control—Mark Glassner had used a gas on everyone to make us act so lewd—but for lusting to experience it again.

And not just for Lucy, I found my gaze lingering on all the women I saw, unable to fight who I was any longer.

The Christian women in America wore far too revealing clothes. Their lack of modesty inflamed my passions, and I could not help but let my eyes feast on their exposed flesh. At night, when I succumbed to the weakness of my sex and pleasured myself, I didn’t even try to pretend to think about a man. Only women. Even when I would go to Mosque for Friday Prayers, I found my gaze lingering on the rear of the woman praying in front of me. Right there in the holy Mosque I now found my thoughts drifting to impure acts.

In my fantasies, I would reach out and pull up the hem of her jilbāb, the long, modest robe of a good Muslim woman. I would keep pulling it up while she kept praying, exposing dusky, beautiful legs until her plain, white panties were revealed. The dark shadow of her bush just visible through the panties’ gusset. Next, I would slowly pull the panties down, exposing a plump ass and her pussy covered by her thick mat of hair.

The smell of her arousal would fill my nose, tart and spicy—like Lucy’s.

Then I would bury my face into her sweet pussy, her silky hairs tickling my cheeks as I feasted on her. The other women praying would ignore the woman’s sweet moans. And while I ate her out, my hands would hike up my own jilbāb and shove into my panties. I would pleasure myself like a sharmoota in the middle of the holy Mosque.

It would be so decadent. I moaned, imagining it as my fingers plunged over and over into my pussy. It would be so wicked to violate the Mosque. To devour her pussy and show her the delights I discovered with Lucy two weeks ago.

Mark had also fucked me, but his dick paled compared to Lucy’s mouth licking me as I licked her.

I remembered the feel of her breasts, the taste of her lips, and the way she moaned when she came on my licking face. I groaned, my fingers working faster in and out of my pussy. My back arched and I heaved.

“Lucy,” I moaned. “My sweet Lucy.”

Just thinking of her made my heart race. I ached. My pussy clenched about my fingers. My thumb rubbed my clit. I bit my lip, muffling my moans. I shuddered, my belly bumping into the bottom of the wheel.

I came.

The pleasure washed through me as I imagined her sweet face framed by her curly-brown hair. I remembered her landing strip leading to her pussy. How wonderfully bare her pussy lips were, and how amazing it was to eat her flesh and nuzzle against her wet silk.

“Lucy,” I sighed more more time as my sweet orgasm rippled through me.

Then I shuddered and my eyes opened. I sighed, savoring the bliss as I stared at the Rotary club.

And then I flushed in shame. I was so caught in my sin, I masturbated in public. I pulled my fingers out of my pussy and wiped the sticky juices off onto the passenger seat. I adjusted my dress and the colorful shaylah that covered my head and hair, leaving only my round face exposed.

Like a good Muslim girl, not a filthy sinner.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I should leave. This was a mistake. I should not be here. I reached for the keys in the ignition, about to turn them when my phone chirped. I fished it out of my pocket and froze.

Another text from Lucy.

Before the mind control gas wore off, I made the mistake of giving Lucy my phone number. The girl had been badgering me ever since with declarations of love and passion. “Are you coming tonight?” the message read.

I was so confused. I burned to see Lucy. But it was wrong. And there was no one I could talk to about it. My mother and sisters would shun me for being a lesbian. The Imam at my Mosque would just tell my father, and he would beat me. He was already disappointed that I hadn’t found a husband yet at nineteen.

Is that why I came here tonight?

Everyone here was a victim of the Incident like I was. They must all be struggling with the same sort of issues that I did . We all performed act that day we would never have dreamed of doing. Sinful, degrading, wonderful acts.

All because of Mark Glassner.

The man was free. He was on the news all the time, at first reported as a criminal but now a man championing charities and pledging to change the world. The news no longer called him a terrorist. They lauded him and praised him

I felt dirty just thinking about the man. I could still taste his salty seed as I licked it off Lucy’s face. And not just his sperm. Other men shot their loads on us while we pleasured each other. Their greasy, disgusting seed.

You liked it during the Incident, a voice whispered. Just like you loved tasting Lucy’s pussy.

I slid out of my car. I needed to talk to someone, to get this off my chest before I went crazy. I walked across the quiet street to the Eagle’s Club. It was a one story building, gray walls and a slate roof, parked right by the railroad tracks.

A blonde girl in an absolutely obscene outfit stood at the front door. My eyes couldn’t help drink in how her tight halter top left her flat, cute stomach bare and showed off her perky tits. Her pants were a very tight pair of blue-jeans that just hugged her shapely ass. I recognized her from the Incident. She was the girl who worked for Buy Best and had been fucked over and over during the orgy. A pimply-faced guy next to her handed me a business card that read:

Divine Escorts – The prettiest girls to keep you satisfied.

Kevin Mattock (253) 555-6812

Director of Customer Service, Owner

Jessie Smith (253) 555-7343

Premier Escort, Owner

“So you’re actually a whore now, Jessie?” a woman said behind me. I flinched and stepped aside.

“I am a high class escort,” Jessie answered with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Stacy.”

I turned to see a brunette and a Spanish girl holding hands. Both wore blue Buy Best polos and khaki pants. The way they held hands was so intimate. Lovers. My hand clenched, yearning to feel Lucy’s.

No. Stop that.

“How is it going?” the Spanish girl asked. “Being an ‘escort’?”

“Great,” Jessie smiled. “We already have two other girls working for us. Are you two interested? You could make some great money.”

Stacy, the brunette, pulled the Hispanic girl to her. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to share my Rosalita. I do not understand how Kevin is comfortable with you being with other men.”

Kevin, the pimply-faced guy, laughed. “I guess it helped watching her getting gangbanged during the Incident.”

“Sex and love aren’t the same,” Jessie smiled, giving Kevin a fond look.

I took a deep breath, staring at the two girls. “Are you two…?”

“Lesbians?” Rosalita asked.

I nodded, my cheeks warming.

“We are.” She gave Stacy a shy smile. “I always had a crush on her, but Stacy never seemed to notice.”

“Subtly goes right over my head, Rosa,” Stacy complained.

Rosa laughed and looked fondly at Stacy. “Well, then the Incident happened, and we made love at the registers.”

“But, that was just the gas, right?” I asked. “I mean, Stacy, you weren’t gay before?”

Stacy shrugged. “What does that matter? I found someone who loves me. Does it matter that she’s the same sex as me?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. No, I did, and it made me afraid. It twisted inside me to answer Lucy’s text, to give in and indulge in all my desires. I hurried inside, leaving these sinful girls. But Rosalita’s words echoed in my mind. This wasn’t helping my confusion, just making it worse. Those four were clearly warped by what happened to them in the Incident.

Just like me.

But they seemed happy. I could have that happiness. I could find Lucy and…

No! I ignored that traitorous voice trying to lead me to sihaq.

I found a seat on a metal, folding chair laid out in the meeting hall. My mind whirled as I struggled with Stacy’s words. The Qur’an was quite clear that homosexual behavior was wrong. I could not be a good Muslim and be gay.

Right?

Why couldn’t life be easy?

“You came.”

I jumped then tensed. That voice was so familiar. It haunted my memories the last two weeks. I glanced up to see Lucy standing over me, a smile that was half-hopeful and half-fearful. She was so beautiful with those blue eyes set in her round, cherub’s face. I wanted to say hi, to smile back. I wanted to give in to my sin.

I looked down at my hands and ignored her.

“Please talk to me,” she pleaded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Fatima. Please.”

A tear ran hot down my cheek and dropped onto my folded hands. Why was I crying? Because I wanted to respond to her? To look at her? To kiss those red lips. I steeled my heart. I was stronger than this sin. I would be a good and proper Muslim.

Allah would not send this temptation to me if I was not strong enough to resist it.

“Just look at me.” Her voice was so raw. “I know you felt that connection between us. That’s why you chose me. Out of all the people in that crowd. You chose me. Deep down it’s what you’ve always wanted, Fatima. Me.”

I flushed even more. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was the gas. But why did I choose a woman? Why did I choose Lucy? There were plenty of men in the crowd. The other women Mark commanded to find a partner had chosen men. So why didn’t I?

Because I had always had these desires. I tried to fight them. To resist them, but my thoughts always drifted to women just like my gaze. Memories of bathing with my older sister floated up in my mind. I had been so fascinated by her breasts. I was twelve and she was fifteen. They were so round and beautiful. In gym class, why did I always stop to admire the other girls? I told myself I was just comparing our developments. But was there something else? Something more?

More tears fell on my clenched fists.

Other people filed into the room and a general murmur echoed about us. I could feel Lucy’s shadow on me. I fought and fought the urge to look up at her. I just kept squeezing my fists, fighting my sin and confusion as my tears poured out of me.

Lucy walked off and I relaxed.

“Here you go,” a woman said. She sat down next to me and handed me a napkin. I looked over at her to see a stunning platinum-blonde with a beautiful, fierce face and those tits. My eyes fell on them, straining against her small, black dress.

I snatched the napkin, dabbing my eyes, and looking away from the temptation of the woman’s cleavage.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“We all were changed that day,” the woman said, patting my arm. She leaned in. “I fucked my first cock that day, and I loved it. I always thought I was a lesbian, but now I’m not sure. I mean, I still love my wife, but I burn inside for a dick.”

She was so forthright. How could she say such shameful things without even sounding embarrassed? I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t make the words come out. Even to a stranger, I couldn’t admit my shame.

Her smile was full of support. “It’s okay. I understand. I couldn’t tell my wife about my changes.” Her eyes flickered to a man walking by. “Mmm, I bet he has a nice cock.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote something down and handed it to me. “If you ever need to talk.”

Then she stood up, and strode after that guy.

She wrote her name, Ashley, and her phone number down for me. I almost balled it up. I froze, staring at her name, then I slipped it into my purse. Maybe she could help me. Maybe. I was desperate to try anything at this point.

To exorcise these desires.

The meeting was started by Oscar, the manager from the Buy Best. He was the one that organized this support group since more than half of his employees were victims. My thoughts drifted in an out as people came up to speak. It was like an AA meeting, I guess. People confessing what they did while the group of people gave the understanding and support.

But I was too confused to pay too much attention. Words echoed through my head. Ashley’s forthright: We were all changed that day. And Lucy’s heartfelt words burned in my mind: I know you felt that connection between us. That’s why you chose me! Out of all the people in that crowd. You chose me. The way Stacy looked fondly at Rosalita as she confessed: I found someone who loves me. Does it matter that she’s the same sex as me?

The Qur’an taught differently. They were the words of the Allah’s messenger. How could they be wrong? How could my heart be right?

“I met someone very special that day.”

The words were so familiar. I looked up. Lucy stood at the podium. Her blue eyes, shining with tears, fixed on mine, peering into my soul. I could see the love and hurt mixed together. My heart quickened in my breast, urging me to go to her.

“She is beautiful and sweet and so loving,” Lucy continued. “I felt something as we were together. We were so connected. It didn’t matter that all these men were watching us, even cumming on us, as we made love. We were one soul that morning. One loving soul, and I want to get that feeling back. I love her. I know how silly that sounds. How could I love her? We just met, but I know it. I feel it in my heart. And I know she feels it to. I can see it in her eyes as she stares back at me.”

I flushed. I was so lost in her eyes, in her voice, that I started when I realized everyone in the room was staring at me. Her words were tugging at my heart. I wanted to go up to her, to confess my own feelings. Who cared if it was a sin if it felt so right? Everyone knew my shame. They were all looking at me, judging me.

Fear clutched my heart.

“I love you, Fatima,” Lucy pleaded, tears shining in her eyes. “Please, just talk to me!”

I rose and fled the hall.

I had to.

Only she followed.

I was fumbling with my purse, trying to grab my car keys when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I screeched and dropped my purse. I whirled about and saw Lucy, her cherub-face stained with tears. Her eyes were pools of desperate longing, her lips red with sweet sin.

“Fatima, please,” she begged. “I love you.”

My heart drowned out my conscience with a surge of hot blood. Every part of me felt inflamed. I threw my arms around her neck and pulled those sweet, red lips to me. My heart sang with joy as I tasted just how sweet and sinful they were. Lucy melted against me, throwing her arms about me, clutching at me like a drowning woman desperately clinging to flotsam. We kissed and kissed, ignoring the honking cars as they gawked at the two girls kissing.

The two lesbians.

The two sinners.

“My place is close,” Lucy panted when we finally surfaced for air.

I drove. Fast. She lived only a few blocks away on the other side of the railroad tracks that bisected downtown Puyallup. She had a basement apartment, only one bedroom. It was tiny, cramped with her furniture. We were kissing the moment she opened the door. We didn’t make it to her bed, but fell onto her ragged couch.

“This is a dream,” she whispered as she pulled off my shaylah, exposing my long, black hair.

It was a dream. A sweet, sinful dream that I hoped I would never wake up from.

We kissed again, her hands running through my silky hair. Our passion grew, and I pulled off her shirt, exposing a racy, red bra that covered her small breasts. I reached behind her and fumbled at the clasp.

I gasped in awe as her tiny breasts, topped with dark-red nipples, appeared. I had to taste them. I leaned in and sucked one into my mouth, savoring the feel on my lips. My hands stroked her silky skin as I swirled my tongue.

Lucy moaned, “Fatima.”

I kissed across her chest and captured the other nipple, swirling my tongue about it and delighting in bringing more sweet moans to her lips. My hands roamed down her sides and stomach, brushing the waistband of her jeans. I traced the jeans until I found the fastener.

A metallic snap rang. A zipper rasped.

I shoved my hand inside her pants, feeling her heat through her panties. She pulled my mouth from her breast and kissed me as I rubbed her pussy through her panties. Heat bled through. Her heat. Her passion. I rubbed harder, out of control, surrendered to the dream.

Her fingers fumbling at the brass buttons of my white blouse. Cloth fell away. I moaned into her lips as her hands groped my breasts through my plain, boring bra. I was busty and her hands felt so small on my round melons. Lucy pushed up my bra cup and my right breast popped out into her hand.

She broke the kiss to stare at it, her fingers sinking into my flesh. “They are so beautiful.”

Lucy’s finger circled my dark brown nipple, twice the size of her pink nubs. I shivered in delight as her mouth captured my sensitive nipple. She sucked hard. I leaned back on the couch, shivers racing down to my wet pussy.

Her hand pushed up my other bra cup and kneaded my large tit gently. She buried her face between my breasts, pressing them up against her cheeks. She loved them, reveled in them. Her mouth sucked and nibbled everywhere.

“Lucy,” I moaned, my heart pounding. I breathed in her smell. I loved her so much. Tears burned in my eyes.

I slid my hand back into her pants, into her panties. I found her pussy shaved and wet. Her gasp was muffled between my breasts as I penetrated her pussy with my middle finger. Her back arched in pleasure. I worked my finger in and out of her depths, squirming, my own sex growing sinfully wet.

“Fatima,” she purred, her hips squirming. “Oh, that’s nice. Mmm, I missed that finger.”

“I missed your sex.”

She flashed me a smile. Her hands released my breast and shot down, seizing my skirt. She hiked up it up over my dusky thighs, exposing my plain, cotton panties. My excitement stained the crotch. She purred, licking her lips.

“Someone’s excited,” she purred as she ran a finger against the gusset of my panties, pressing the fabric into the lips of my pussy.

“Oh, Lucy,” I sighed, savoring the delight. “I am.”

I fingered her faster as she petted my pussy through my panties. Her lips recaptured my nipple, sucking, shooting delight down to my sex. I groaned and squirmed, my pussy clenching. She pressed my panties deeper into my folds, teasing me.

I fucked a second finger into her wet pussy. She gasped and giggled, then flashed me a bold smile. Her hands tugged my panties down. I lifted my ass to help her out. She drew them off and tossed them aside. I was trembling in anticipation, feeling her fingers slid down my inner thigh closer and closer to my aching pussy.

Her finger penetrated me.

“Yes,” I hissed.

I was so aroused, so ready to be touched. I exploded, crying out in Arabic as my orgasm crashed through me. Her finger pumped inside my wet depths, and her thumb rubbed my clit. The delight bathed my mind.

She sucked on my nipple again, her teeth nipping, adding more delight to what her finger churned. I squirmed and groaned through clenched teeth. She was so amazing. So wonderful and teasing. She made me squirm. Made me gasp.

I loved her so much.

I gasped as another orgasm surged on the tail of the first. Her finger pumped faster and faster, matching the speed of my own. Her pussy was so juicy around my digits. She sucked and nibbled on my nipple, teasing me, keeping the rapture alive as it washed through my body.

“So good,” I moaned, staring down at her as she suckled. “Lucy.”

She popped her mouth off my nipple and kissed me as she kept fingering me. Orgasm after orgasm flowed through me. Each one was stronger than the last until all I could do was writhe on the couch and moan my passion into her mouth. Her finger kept moving inside me until the pleasure grew so strong, so intense, that it hurt for her to touch me.

I pushed her hand away and panted in exhaustion.

“That was beautiful,” I whispered to her

Tears glistened in her eyes.

I feared waking up from this dream as I pushed her onto her back and slid down her body. I peeled her jeans off her hips and ass, pulling them down her skinny, white legs. She wore a racy pair of red panties, matching her bra. She wore them for me. Those came off exposing her pussy, pink and spread open, glistening with her juices. I bent down and tasted her spicy tartness.

“Oh, Fatima, yes! I love you!” Lucy moaned.

As my tongue explored her delicate folds, I realized that I loved her, too. Tears ran down my face as I brought pleasure to my lover. I was so happy. Lucy moaned and panted as I made love to her, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, reveling in the taste, scent, and touch of her.

I loved her juices. This was so amazing. They coated my lips and face. I pried her apart and shoved my tongue deep into her pink depths. Or I slid my tongue up and swirled and nibbled on her clit while she spasmed and gasped.

I drank in her moans as much as her juices. I loved her with every ounce of my soul. My Lucy. My precious dream.

She came so hard the last time, her pussy gushed juices into my face. I drank them down. Hot and tart, coating my chin and neck. Rivulets ran down to my heaving breasts as I licked up every drop of her that I could.

“Fatima,” she moaned as she pulled my face up and we gently kissed.

It was the sweetest dream I ever had, but I knew I would have to wake up eventually.

Hours later, after we both had satiated ourselves over and over, I watched Lucy sleep peacefully on her bed. I drank in her slumbering beauty. I set the note down on her nightstand and walked to her bathroom. I had filled with steaming-hot water. I slid into the water, leaning back and savoring the warmth. I cupped a handful of water in my hand and splashed it into my face, washing me clean.

“I love you Lucy,” I whispered as I stared at the bathroom ceiling.

But the dream was over. I had to wake up.

I grabbed the long, serrated knife I found in her kitchen and slit my right wrist with a deep, long slash. There was sweet pain and red blood that dripped into the water. Red tears to wash me clean. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

To be continued…

Click here for Sexy Stewardess Delight, Chapter 1.

Click here for Tales from the Orgy Chapter 7.

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I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!