---

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.

---

---

Click here for Chapter 2.

---

---

In our lifetime, the World was blessed by the births of the Living Gods. They dwelt among us, living, growing, watching until the time was right to begin their great work and free mankind from the shackles of hate, prejudice, and intolerance. The Living God pulled the veil of hate from my eyes and I beheld my true love with eyes unclouded by the intolerance of my parent’s false religion. My true love was a woman, and I did not have to be ashamed for loving her.

—The First Book of Vivian 1:1-3

Mark Glassner – Spanaway, WA

I drove back into civilization, passing shopping centers on the edge of Spaneway. I was a mix of excitement and exhaustion. I felt like I could sleep the day away, but I was far too excited to put my powers to the test. I was finally going to get laid, and that was far more important than sleeping. I could do that later.

And I knew exactly where my first stop was. Mary had said she was working the early shift at Starbuzz, and I had to have her. My blood burned for her, and my heart ached. I’m not sure I had ever felt this way before. I couldn’t get her auburn hair, heart-shaped face, and emerald eyes out of my head. I yawned, getting some desperately needed caffeine would just be a pleasant bonus.

I pulled off Pacific Avenue into the strip mall that contained a large grocery store, a drug store, several restaurants and, on its own island in the midst of a mostly empty parking lot, was the Starbuzz coffee house. Cars lined the drive-thru, and customers flowed in and out, getting their morning flux of caffeine to get them through their lives.

I was nervous as I entered the coffeehouse and doubt began to gnaw away at my confidence. All the certainty I had felt watching the sun rise was leaking out of the holes my doubt had made. This wasn’t going to work. Last night was a dream, a hallucination. Some horribly, elaborate prank at my expense. Possibly with hidden cameras and some annoyingly peppy host about to ambush and broadcast my humiliation to the world as part of some terrible reality TV show.

The Starbuzz was crowded. Two frazzled baristas worked the shop, and one of them was Mary. My heart picked up its beat. This was going to work; it had to work. I had to possess her. The other barista—her nametag read “Cynthia”—was dressed like Mary in the white polo with the blue mermaid half-hidden by a dark-blue apron, and a pair khaki pants covering a nice ass. Cynthia was a tall woman, mid-twenties, with black hair cut short in a vaguely punkish style. Both her nose and her right eyebrow—above dark, wild eyes—were pierced with gold rings, giving her face a certain, predatory hunger.

Mary looked as beautiful as yesterday, and stood a little shorter than Cynthia. God, I loved redheads. Our eyes met, and a foolish grin broadened my face. She returned my smile, gorgeous dimples appearing on her freckled cheeks, transforming her face from simply beautiful to absolutely stunning. My heart beat faster; she seemed pleased to see me.

I stood in line behind a cute twenty-year old, her curly, brunette hair falling about her purple hoodie. My eyes traveled down her back to stare at a perky ass covered by a jean skirt; long, tan legs, well-toned, peaked out beneath the frayed edges of her skirt. I wanted to reach out and squeeze her bubbly ass—my cock hardened.

And why couldn’t I? It was time to taste my wishes. Gathering my courage, I croaked out, “Hi.”

The brunette turned, eyed me up and politely smiled, before turning back.

I can do this! I’m a new man. Reborn. I cleared my throat. “Hi, I’m Mark. What’s your name?”

This time the brunette’s smile was far friendlier. “Vivian Anders,” she answer; her voice had a smokey, sultry quality about it.

The holes my doubt had gnawed were patched over with fresh confidence—this was going to work. “What color are your panties?”

Vivian blinked, clearly taken-aback. “White, with pink polka dots.” Her tan face flushed. “Why did I say that?” she whispered, mortified.

“It’s all right,” I told her, grinning. It actually worked. I could do anything I wanted. No one could stop me, they’d have to do whatever I told them. “You want to please me, don’t you. Nothing makes you happier than pleasing me.”

She nodded, embarrassment fading and her smile growing. “What else can I do for you, Mark?”

“Can I have everyone’s attention!” I yelle loud and confident. I was the man in control now. People had to listen to me; the entire shop full of people turned to face me. “The coffee shop is closed. Everyone, except the staff and Vivian, need to leave immediately! Staff, lock up the store and close the blinds.”

There was some grumbling from the customers, and a few clearly seemed confused as they walked out of the shop, wondering why they were listening to some random guy. Mary and Cynthia seemed even more confused as they followed my commands and closed the store.

“Who are you?” asked Cynthia, locking the front door as Mary dropped the blinds.

“Mark,” I answered. “And we are going to have a party.”

“Umm, sounds wild,” purred Cynthia, flashing a wicked smile.

Mary’s smile was nervous, and yet there was something smoldering in her green eyes as she looked at me. Vivian bounced on her heels in excitement, clearly eager to please me. Fuck, this was amazing. I was really going to do this. Yesterday, I was a virgin, and now there were three beautiful women about to pleasure me.

“Vivian, Mary, and Cynthia, from now on, nothing in the world makes you happier than to please me.”

“And what would please you, Mark?” Cynthia purred, licking her lips. She was definitely a wild girl.

“How about you lovely ladies take off your clothes,” I answered. “Let me see those hot bodies of yours.”

Cynthia gave a wicked laugh, untied her apron, and quickly pulled her white top off, exposing pale breasts cupped in a black bra. There was a tattoo of a pouncing tiger that ran from below her left breast, down across her stomach, and disappeared into her pants. Flushing a beautiful crimson, Mary pulled her white polo over her head, revealing small breasts covered by a plain, white bra. Vivian’s hoodie and shirt were already on the floor and she reached back to unhook her white bra, her large tits straining against the material, waiting to be set free.

“So hot,” I groaned; my cock painfully hard in my pants. This was happening; I was about to lose my virginity to three hot girls I just met!

“Yes, we are,” purred Cynthia.

Mary kicked off her shoes and slid her pants down her slim legs. Like the bra she wore, her panties were a plain, boring white. I glanced at Cynthia and saw her juicy tits. They were perky and firm, a nice handful, and her nipples were hard, sprouting from the midst of areolas the size of quarters. With the bra off, I could see the tiger’s tail wrap around the bottom of her breast, up the left side, and ended just above her areola. She unbuttoned her tight pants and, with a sexy shake, shimmed them off her hips. Underneath was a black, skimpy thong. I could see her tiger tattoo continued across her waist and around onto her right asscheek. Then she pulled her thong off, twirled it around her fingers, and tossed it to me.

Naked, Cynthia placed her hands on her hips, giving me a challenging, lust-filled stare. “You like what you’re looking at, tiger?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

Her pussy was beautiful. Fully shaved. Red lips slighty spread, hinting at the warm, wet depths. A small voice whispered at the back of my mind, telling me this was wrong. I ignored it. I was a new man. I didn’t need to feel guilt anymore. My cock ached, wanting to plunge into her juicy depths.

I turned to Vivian, and her large, full tits were free and as tan as the rest of her fine body, except for two triangular patches covering her dark nipples. Clearly, she didn’t sunbathe topless. Her panties were indeed white and covered in pink polka dots. Vivian stepped out of her panties, revealing a neatly trimmed, brunette bush and the tan lines left by her bikini bottoms.

“I’ve never done this before,” she giggled. “I don’t usually put out to a guy I just met.”

“You look smoking hot,” I panted, my cock aching to burst free of my pants.

“Thank you!”

Then I looked at the beautiful Mary. She fumbled with her bra’s clasp; her face was almost as red as her hair. Clasp finally undone, she shyly slid the straps off her shoulders and revealed small, perky breasts spotted with freckles and dusky-pink, turgid nipples.

I grinned at her, “Damn, those are some lovely tits.”

She smiled back, “Thanks.”

Confidence ballooned in her, and her green eyes smoldered as she stared at me. She stood up straighter, her perky breasts thrust out. Her fingers slid into the waistband of her plain, white panties, quickly pulling them off. Her pussy was hidden by a forest of bright auburn, and very curly, pubic hair.

I smiled, staring at each of them. They were all lovely and willing to do whatever I wanted. I had sold my soul to the Devil for this, and it was totally worth it.

* * *

Sister Theodora Mariam – Phoenix, AZ

I shot up, drenched in sweat, screaming in horror.

The nightmare was always the same, but I had to remind myself anyways. “Kurt is locked up in prison, he can never hurt me again.”

I could still feel his malevolent gaze. In my nightmares he was simply a figure of shadows with a mohawk, red eyes, and a silver piercing glinting on his lips. I touched my nose and lips, then my nipples, and finally my clitoris, reassuring myself that the piercings Kurt had forced on me were still healed.

They still were.

“Fuck,” I muttered, looking around.

I had been sleeping on a couch, a thin, blue afghan covering my naked body. My dress lay in a crumpled heap on the living room floor next to my luggage. A note rested on the suitcase. “Theodora,” it read, written in a sloppy, almost unreadable handwriting. “I’m off to work. Can’t stay in the house. Help yourself to breakfast.”

I followed Newt’s words and help myself to breakfast, finishing off a pot of coffee he had left and finding some bagels and cream cheese in the well stocked kitchen. It was a warm, homely place. Mable must have really cared about this house. She cross stitched, and her works hung on the walls with notes about how much she loved her husband or memorializing their anniversaries.

“I’ll return you to your husband,” I promised her, touching a cross stitched depiction of Newt and Mabel’s wedding, the bride and groom holding hands before the altar.

I meant to take a quick shower, but they had a shower massager, and I couldn’t resist. The warm spray felt heavenly as I rubbed the shower head against my pussy. I leaned against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut, and imagined my husband knelling on the bathroom floor, his red hair tied back in his ridiculous ponytail, his goatee scratching at my vulva, adding another delightful sensation to my pussy as he ate me.

“Oh, yes!” I moaned, rubbing harder and harder, my free hand pinching my nipple. “Eat me! Oh, yes!”

The water sprayed into me, the droplets pounding against my labia, vulva and clitoris, sending pleasure tingling through me. My breath quickened, my body tensed, my climax neared. I imagined my husband shoving a finger inside me, pumping it in and out as his lips nipped and sucked my hard clitoris. He always loved to eat my pussy in the shower. When we were first married, it seemed not a day wouldn’t pass without us fooling around in the shower.

“Eat me!” I groaned. “Oh, yes! I love you!” My orgasm shuddered through me, my back sliding against the wet, shower wall. “I love you!” Another shudder passed through me, and I was no longer cumming, but crying. The shower head dropped from my hands, and I slid to the wet floor. “I love you…”

An hour later I had regained my composure and dressed in a floral, low-cut sundress with a short skirt, and parked myself in Newt and Mabel’s living room, drawing his shades almost fully closed, leaving only a gap that I could see through, and watched Tex’s house.

I didn’t have to wait long. A naked, Hispanic woman in her twenties walked out, her heavy, nut-brown breasts swaying as she carried a black garbage bag to the can at the curb. She was short and very curvy, and my eyes appreciated the way her ass swayed as she walked back into the house.

Her aura was also black. She was a Thrall, enslaved to a Warlock. To Tex.

“I’ll free you, too,” I promised, and watched and waited for my chance.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 4.

If you enjoyed the story, support me on Patreon!

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