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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 Chapter 1.

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Where others see coincidence, we see Providence. Heaven guides us with a gentle hand. Do not fight the path you are led upon. Do not let your pride lead you to strike out across the wilderness thinking you found a shortcut. All things have their time and place. Exorcising a Warlock is no different.

—excerpt from The Prayerbook of the Order of Mary Magdalene

Sunday, June 9th, 2013 – Sister Louise Afra – SeaTac, WA

“Fuck me, Louise!” Sarai moaned beneath me.

I worked a large, beige-colored rubber cock into her pussy. The anatomically correct dildo, complete with a pair of hairless balls, was strapped to my thighs and pressed against my clit every time I stuffed the monster into Sarai’s tight cunt. I fucked her hard, delighting in the thrill.

We had been fucking on and off all night. We both knew are affair was short lived, and we wanted to get as much fun out of it as we could. According to the clock, it was Sunday morning now. I should be out finding a church and attending Mass but, Lord, Sarai was an insatiable lover, always wanting just one more orgasm, and I was having too much fun. Church would be there next week.

Besides, I had my Papal Indulgence. I was already forgiven for sinning in the loving embrace of Sarai.

The back of the rubber cock rubbed deliciously on my clit as I fucked this beautiful creature. Our nipples were hard and rubbed pleasurably together, and her lips were hot and wet, sucking at my neck. Or she would find my lips and her tongue would wiggle into my mouth. She tasted sweet, and I wrestled my tongue into her, exploring her.

Nothing else mattered but the feel of this dusky creature against my skin. I couldn’t get enough of her touch, enjoying the electricity that tingled through my body at every brush of her tongue, kiss of her nipple, or caress of her thighs. I pushed up her knees, changing the angle that my dildo slid into her and really started to fuck her hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Sarai chanted. Our lovemaking cycled through sweet and loving, to hard and fast. “Fuck my naughty, Muslim cunt with your big, thick Catholic dildo!”

Her words sent me over the edge. I kissed her passionately as my body shook in orgasm, bliss screaming through me. Sarai trembled beneath me, cumming herself. The pleasure smashed through me in powerful waves, leaving me a quivering mass of flesh as I collapsed on her.

“Oh, wow!” she sighed.

“Uh-huh,” I panted, rolling off of her, the large, rubber cock popping out of her pussy with a wet noise. We stared at the ceiling, hands entwined, breasts heaving with passion. Sarai rolled over, pressing her dusky body against my pale flesh.

“That was spectacular,” Sarai husked, brushing a strand of sweat-matted hair off my forehead. The room reeked of pussy after over a day of fucking.

“It was,” I whispered back. An idea suddenly popped into my head. “Sarai, have you ever been tied up?” I cannot believe we hadn’t indulged in some bondage yet. And we only had a few more hours left before she had to get ready for her flight. Plenty of time for me to tie her up and have some fun.

Sarai blinked, then smiled naughtily. “Oooh, bondage! No, never. I have a friend that’s hinted at it.”

“Friend?” I asked. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

She laughed. “There’s not one woman that’s enough for you. You’re a lot like Diane.”

“Your friend?”

She nodded as I dug through my suitcase. I found the pink, fuzzy handcuffs. “Stretch out,” I told her, twirling the cuff around my finger.

“Yes, officer,” she purred, stretching out on the bed, holding her hands through gaps in the headboard.

I walked to the bed, leaning over her and seizing her wrists. With a ratcheting click, I handcuffed her. Then I grabbed the complementary sleeping mask off the nightstand and covered her eyes. I ran a finger down her neck and she shivered in pleasure. Then I kissed her stomach, licking up a bead of her sweat.

“I’ll be right back, sexy girl,” I told her, grabbing a discarded blue slip with a black-lace hem and pulling it over my body. “I just need to get something.” Ice. Sarai would writhe in pleasure as I rubbed cold, wet ice all over her body.

“Hurry back,” Sarai moaned, wiggling on the bed, straining for my touch. The wait while blindfolded would send her lust into overdrive.

I slipped out into the hallway, ice bucket in one hand, hotel key in the other. I had made that mistake once, tying up my lover and then forgetting the hotel key. It was quite embarrassing to get a maid to let you back in and she sees your lover handcuffed to the bed.

The ice machine was to the left and I walked down the hall. As I passed the hotel room next to ours, the door opened and a short, balding man in a blue, silk bathrobe bent down to pick up the Sunday paper. He looked tired, haggard sacks hanging beneath red eyes. I bet we kept him up all night.

Then I really saw him. My eyes widened in shock. I don’t know why I should be surprised, not when Providence was at work.

Surrounding the man was a blue-black aura, pale and sickly like a fresh bruise. This man had been touched by a Warlock and made into a Thrall.

Years of fighting Evil had honed my reflexes, and my hand moved without thought. I dipped beneath my slip, slipping two fingers into my pussy and coating them in my juices. The man gaped at me; I used his surprise to quickly draw the Mark of Qayin on his forehead and muttered, “Shama.”

White light flared as the prayer took effect.

The man went limp, slumping against his door and landing with a heavy thud. Adrenaline surged through my body as I dragged him back to my hotel room, hoping that we wouldn’t be spotted—this would be hard to explain.

I needed to move quick before the Shama prayer wore off. It would only keep him stunned for a few minutes, and it would take more intimate work to get anything useful information. And it would be easier to get if he wasn’t struggling.

“Mhh, you’re back,” Sarai moaned like a bitch in heat. Shoot, I didn’t have time to play with her.

“Just relax, sexy,” I said. “I gotta take care of some Nun business.”

“Oh,” Sarai moaned in disappointment. “Can you uncuff me?”

“Just hang tight, sweetie,” I said, pulling the man in until he lay before the bed.

My hands untied the belt to his robe revealing a fat belly covered in graying hair and a black man-thong—eww—that did little to cover his junk. He was so fat that the rolls of his waist covered the thin waistband of his thong.

God, give me strength, I prayed, reaching into the thong to pull out his fat, short cock.

My soft hand quickly stroked him to readiness. I hiked up my slip and straddled his fat waist. I guided his cock to my pussy, the tip brushing my labia and bumping my clit. I closed my eyes and lowered my cunt around his cock, moaning low in my throat. His cock’s girth stretched my pussy nicely and I rose up and fucked him, our flesh slapping together.

“What’s going on?” Sarai asked in a puzzled voice. She writhed on the bed, struggling to pull her blindfold by rubbing the side of her face on a pillow. “Holy shit!” she gasped when she had succeeded. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Um, uhh, I’m not sure,” I answered lamely. His cock felt real nice in my pussy. I loved being with women, but there was something to be said about a real cock plumbing your depths.

“Is this your surprise? Because I have no interest in fucking a guy, let alone some fat, old dude!”

“No, this is for my Order!” I gasped, adding a twist to my hip movement. “He’s been touched by Evil and I need to help him!”

I was really fucking this guy now, riding him hard. And Sarai watching me was so exciting. I pulled my slip over my head and played with my nipples, pulling and twisting. I hoped Sarai was enjoying the sight of my perky breasts bouncing up and down. I leaned back, thrusting my tits out and his cock was hitting new, delightful places in my pussy.

“That sound’s crazy,” Sarai said.

I can understand her confusion. Most people didn’t believe in the supernatural. Even the majority of Christians would find it hard to believe that the Devil made Pacts with people, giving them powers in exchange for their souls. Warlocks. My Order and I were dedicated to fighting them, to freeing those the Warlocks has enthralled—people like the man I was fucking.

My orgasm built in my womb, and I rode the man hard and fast, squeezing my cunt about his cock. The man grunted, starting to come out of his stupor. He blinked up at my tits, then a smile crossed his lips.

“Oh, yeah!” he moaned. “This is a nice way to wake up. Fuck me, whore.” He let out a deep, animalistic grunt as his hips thrust up, and then he flooded my pussy with his hot seed. My orgasm triggered, pleasure knifing through my body.

I prayed a single word, “Rechem!” The Mark of Qayin flared white on the man’s forehead. The man went rigid for a second and then relaxed, smiling up in a daze at me.

“What was that!” Sarai gasped. “What was that light?”

“The Prayer of Rechem,” I answered. “It will allow me to get around any commands the Warlock placed on him and make him extremely cooperative.” I peered down at the man, gazing into his brown eyes. “Speak your name,” I ordered the man, “and tell me all about the Warlock that commands you.”

“My name is Brandon Fitzsimmons,” the man said in a hypnotic, monotone. “Several days ago a man named Mark and two women appeared at my door…”

My smile grew as Brandon told his tale. Creator’s Providence had led me to the Warlock’s lair.

* * *

Doug Allard – Parkland, WA

I pulled up at 1414 South Alaska Street, an unassuming, blue house on a street full of small, older homes. I pulled up on the curb behind an old, dirty, maroon Toyota. After calling around yesterday, I got a hold of Mark Glassner’s dad. I was hoping he’d have some answers for me.

I climbed out of my car and walked passed the Toyota. A young woman with coffee-cream skin sat in it, giving me a puzzled look. Her eyes were startling blue, adding an exotic cast to her African-American features. I nodded to the woman, but she just frowned at me.

Halfway to the door, it opened, and a pretty brunette, early forties, blinked at me, then gave me a friendly smile. I was about to say hi, when a man yelled from inside, “Where are you goin’, Sandy?”

“Church,” she answered. “It’s Sunday, David. Remember? Then some shopping with Betty. I’ll be back around two.”

“Get more beer, we’re almost out.”

She flinched at the word beer. “Yeah, honey, I will.”

“You better,” the man muttered. “Or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

She scurried past me without a word and climbed into the car. My stomach soured. This was not going to be a pleasant interview. I reached the door and wrapped on it, peering into the living room where a fat, balding man lounged in a ripped, stained wife beater and a pair of gray sweatpants, a beer can gripped in his hand.

“The fuck are you?” the man muttered.

“David Glassner?” I asked.

“Yeah. What you want?”

“I’m Doug Allard. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Right, right. The P.I.” He waved his arm. “Want a beer?”

“No thanks.” I walked in and sat down on the couch. “Do you mind if I record this.”

“You’re forgetting the money.”

I pulled an envelope out of my pocket. $500 of my advance, but I’d just bill it to Brandon. The glee the man took in selling out his son was disgusting, and he snatched the envelope from my hands, counting the money.

“Well, alright. Whacha you want to know?”

“Tell me about your son?”

“What’s the tell. He’s a fucking loser. Didn’t go to college, and didn’t bother get a real job.” David burped. “No fucking ambition. Just wants to sit around all day. So I kicked his ass out the moment he turned eighteen.”

“So you haven’t had much contact with him?”

“Nope.”

No wonder he wanted the money first.

“What about your wife? Does she talk to Mark?”

“Yeah. She’s soft like that. The dumb broad still think he’s not a complete fuck-up. When I was his age, I was working the docks at the Port of Tacoma and making great money.” He grunted, taking a swig. “Well, I was until I hurt my back. Every year the bastards try to take my disability away.”

“Does your wife ever tell you anything about what he’s been up to?”

“This ’bout what happened at the Buy Best?” David swirled his beer, the liquid sloshing in the bottom.

“Not directly. I can’t divulge any details, but your son has crossed my client’s path.”

“Still can’t believe my son’s a wanted terrorist. Had the police here yesterday. And the FBI’s coming by this afternoon to talk to me and Sandy.” He grunted. “The stupid cunt thinks this is all a big misunderstanding.”

I wanted to punch him so hard in the face.

“So you don’t know anything about how me makes people do things?”

“You mean that funny gas he used. Fuck if I now. The kid didn’t have good grades. Mark was an all around fuck-up.”

I sighed; this was a complete waste of time. “Was your son into the occult. You know, magic or new age, that sort of stuff.”

“You mean that D&D game he wasted all his time playing instead of studying?”

“Not really. I meant like getting into Wiccan or that sort of thing.”

“I don’t know. Not that I saw. But it’s been, what, ten years since I seen him. So how the fuck should I know what shit he’s into.”

I pulled a card out of my wallet. “Well, if you or your wife thinks of anything, call this number.”

“Sure.” I could see the dollar signs forming in his head. “Well, I need to get going.”

“Yeah. Close the door on the way out.”

I did. What an asshole. I walked back to my car. What a fucking waste of time this was. I was running out of leads so I decided to head back to Brandon’s house to continue my surveillance.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 3.

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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!