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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 3.

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Chantelle and Svitlana Paquet-Holub were undoubtedly once slaves to the Tyrants. They expended such resources to try and find Chantelle and Svitlana after their disappearance. The Tyrants were always protective and jealous of their slaves.

—excerpt from The History of the Tyrants’ Theocracy, by Tina Allard

Sister Theodore – Miami, FL

I stepped out of the bathroom and rushed to the dance floor. I scanned the heaving bodies. Antsy was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, babe,” Julio said, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to him. “What’s the rush?”

“I need to find my friend,” I shouted over the thudding music.

I pulled my away, slipping out onto the dance floor. My head swiveled around. I searched for Antsy’s youthful exuberance as my heart thudded in my chest. I had let myself get carried away. I had a plan, and it wasn’t to get fucked in the bathroom by a Cuban stud.

“She’ll be fine,” Julio said. “She’s just having fun. I think I saw her dancing with another guy before we slipped off to the bathroom.”

“We came her together. I need to find her.”

“Relax.” His arm went around my waist. “We’ll find her. I get it. You’re worried. Afraid some guy ran off with her. But she probably just left with him. She’s going to make her own memories.” His hand slipped down and squeezed my ass. “Just like you made some of yours.”

I growled in annoyance and pushed him away.

“What the fuck?” he demanded as I elbowed his side.

“I’m not in the mood,” I hissed. “I have to find her.”

“No, Florecita. You need to come and have fun with me and make your own memories.”

I arched my eyebrows at him. “No.”

He grabbed my arm. I grabbed his thumb and bent. The snap of his finger bone was almost audible over the music. He gasped in pain. I pushed him back and turned, striding through the club. A bouncer was already moving as Julio screamed at me from behind.

Antsy wasn’t here. It wasn’t a big club. I headed down the hallway to the women’s room. She wasn’t in line for the bathroom. I threw the door open while a woman screeched at me to wait my turn. “Antsy, you in here?”

No one answered. I ducked back out and left the screaming woman behind.

I lost Antsy. I groaned. She must have left with the guy she was dancing with while I was acting like a eighteen-year-old idiot in the bathroom. I headed back to the hotel room. Maybe they would show up there drunk and horny. I could still pull the threesome off.

I hailed a taxi. How could I have been so stupid? I should act my real age, and not like a stupid, horny eighteen year old. I wasn’t here to get laid. I was here to stop Mark Glassner.

* * *

Mary Sullivan – Tacoma, WA

I needed a breather. I had been dancing, and cumming, with Orange and Diane for a while. My pussy tingled and my blood boiled with lust. I left Orange and Diane to grind on each other as I moved through the other dancers, admiring their flesh while their eyes watched me with hunger.

I loved my Pact.

I perched on a bar stool and smiled at the dusky woman serving drinks. “Appeltini,” I purred.

The bartender smiled back. “Sure, baby.”

Her fingers brushed mine as she handed me the drink. I blew her a kiss before taking my drink and heading to one of the love seats that hugged the wall. I sat on the comfortable seat and watched the beautiful women dancing. My drink was delicious. A warm flush spread through my body, and I looked around for my next conquest. It was overwhelming, everywhere I looked there was a beautiful woman.

But which to choose?

A pixyish girl, petite and small, with green hair and green eyes, sat down next to me. She had an impish grin on her cute face and two drinks in her hand. She offered me one of the drink which I gratefully accepted. I was delighted to discover it was an appeltini when I took a sip. Pixie was dressed in a silver, clingy dress with no shoulder straps and a wispy skirt that fell to her knees. Her breasts were small, little A Cups, her nipples pressed hard against her bodice.

“Are you a witch?” Pixie asked me. “Because you are so enchanting.”

“Maybe,” I grinned between sips. “What do you know of magic?”

“I’m part of a coven,” Pixie purred. “We love to perform our magical rituals in the nude before nature. It’s… intoxicating.”

“I can only imagine. Maybe you should give me a taste.”

Pixie darted in and kissed me on the lips. She tasted of cherry lip gloss and fruity alcohol. I sat my drink on a small end table before I stroked Pixie’s cheek with my finger. I trailed the finger down her neck and dipped into her dress to feel her small, apple-sized breasts. Her nipples were hard and pierced by a barbell piercing. Pixie groaned into my kiss as I played with her nipples.

Her hand landed on my thigh. She stroked up and down my smooth flesh, sending tingles shooting to my pussy. I squirmed, growing wetter. Our kiss grew more passionate as she leaned against me. My fingers pinched her nipples harder as her hand moved up my thigh.

“You are so beautiful,” Pixie gasped when she broke the kiss. “Oh, I just have to taste you.”

I spread my thighs. “I would have to insist. Perform a little magic on my pussy.”

“You are wild,” giggled Pixie as she slid to the floor.

The woman pushed up my skirt and gave a wicked giggle when she saw my heart of fiery pubic hair. She played with it and rubbed her cheek in my downy softness before she slid her tongue down and lapped at my wet cunt.

On the dance floor, Diane was still grinding and writhing against Orange. Our eyes met, and she smiled as I writhed on Pixie’s face, the sexy woman’s tongue sliding through my folds. I grabbed Pixie’s green hair and pulled her tongue deeper into my cunt. My toes curled as delicious sensations rippled through me.

“Oh, yes, I can feel your magic!”

Her tongue wiggled into my pussy’s depths, twirling about the sensitive walls. Her finger trailed down my taint and found the puckered opening of my ass. Her finger circled my tight sphincter and then pressed forward. The tight ring of my ass resisted for several heartbeats, and then her finger was in my back door, wiggling around in my ass. Her tongue slid up my slit, and flicked at my hard clit while her thumb plunged in and out of my cunt.

“Fuck!” I moaned.

Pixie fucked her thumb in my cunt and her finger up my ass, both plunging in and out together. Her tongue played with the bundle of nerves contained in my hard, little clit. I was panting, the fire brewing in my depths. I slipped a hand into my bodice and played with my nipple. Women on the dance floor were watching me, their eyes glued to the pixie eating my cunt.

I moaned loud, wantonly, wanting them to hear my passion. “Yes, eat my cunt, you lesbian slut! Oh, yes! Eat my cunt, finger my ass! Yes! Oh, yes!”

I loved the attention. An audience was so hot. Mark had shown me that the day he claimed me. I pulled my dress down, exposing my perky, freckled breasts and my dusky nipples hard with my arousal. I pinched them as the crowd watched, their eyes burning with lust.

Pixie’s tongue flicked faster and faster on my clit, flicking as fast a hummingbird’s wings. I was getting closer and closer to my passion, ready to erupt my orgasm. I wanted every woman in the club to watch me cum on this slut’s pixyish face.

“Oh, my god! Your tongue feel so good!” I screamed. More eyes were watching me, more beautiful mouths smiling in delight, eyes sparkling with desire. “Oh, god! I’m so close to cumming! I’m so close! Just a little more, slut! Yes, yes, yes!”

My orgasm crashed through me. My legs went rigid and my back arched. My insides burst with pleasure. My pussy convulsed about her thumb and my ass clenched on her fingers. My pussy squirted hot juices across Pixie’s cute face.

“Such magic!” I moaned

Without a word, Pixie was on her feet, swaying to the music. Her face was covered in my girl-cum. A blonde woman dressed in a man’s suit, her long hair flowing about her as she danced, grabbed Pixie. The pair writhed together while the blonde licked my juices from Pixie’s face.

Breathing heavily, I headed back out into the dance floor to have some more fun. And every woman there were eager to provide it. Mark was right, we were so much better than regular people. They were ants that worshiped us.

* * *

Lilith – The Abyss

Lucifer’s semen burned in my cunt as he ejaculated. Another orgasm rolled through my body. I gasped like a whore as my pussy spasmed about his cock. Hatred and shame burned inside me as Lucifer pulled his cock out. My body had betrayed me again. Just like it had when Adam used to take me.

“Always a pleasure, Lilith,” Lucifer said, his voice light and pleasant. Then, like I was his dog, he reached out and stroked my hair before he descended deeper into the Abyss.

For hours he had fucked me and taunted me, reveling in my humiliation. He took such delight as he rubbed salt into my wounds over my failure to seduce a single Mortal. His words rattled around in my head. I hadn’t paid enough attention to Mark and Mary.

Anger boiled inside me, replacing the humiliation and shame of my body’s betrayal. It was a white-hot rage that needed to be unleashed on someone. On Mark. On that disgusting, putrid sack of pus that strode the world like he owned it.

I peered through the Shadows into the house. Mark and his disgusting friends were fucking his Thralls around the dinner table. I concentrated and felt Mary was far away, dancing in a club, grinding on another woman. She was drunk on alcohol and sex. Mary was almost as bad as Mark was. She was filthy and disgusting, too, loving her man and submitting to his lust like a good, little woman. She was just like that whore, Eve, rutting with Adam.

How could I have failed to seduce a woman as whorish as Mary? I was the first woman and the first succubus. I was the first sex goddess. I was worshiped before Asherah and Astarte. Before all of those fertility goddess there was me. And that little whore resisted me. It galled me. I needed to fix this, I needed to have a success.

I needed to take something away from Mark and Mary.

But what? All of their precious sluts were in the house, save the one with Mary. But I couldn’t touch any of them. Mary’s command to not appear before any of the sluts or others in their house was a chain about my neck. If I concentrated, I could see the fragile, red chain leading from my neck to Mary. The chain would remain until Mary used her last boon.

Frustrated, I peered at Mark, examining his soul. Lucifer was right, I hadn’t been paying enough attention. So I studied his soul. It was red, the sign of a Warlock, and his soul’s connections branched out from him. All the lives that touched him or that he had touched radiated out in all directions. Most were black chains that connected Mark to his Thralls. Anyone who had been given a command by Mark had a chain connecting Mark to their souls. Some were tiny, barely threads already fading into silver. These were people who had been given simple commands, ones that didn’t change their personalities, and Mark’s influence was slowly fading from them. Others were thicker. These represented people permanently changed by Mark.

Other threads and chains also branched from Mark. Silver threads were regular mortals, the thick ones, what few there were, represented the friends and family of Mark. The thinner, silver threads, represented acquaintances. Each of Mark’s friends had a silver thread that connected them to Mark.

A pair of entwined, red threads connected Mark and Mary’s souls. Lucifer was right, they were soul mates. They would be very hard to break up. Magic would have to be used to dominate one of their minds. An option not opened to me at the present. Sadly, my powers could only influence a mortal, not force them to obey.

Lastly, a huge, red chain descended from Mark’s soul down into the abyss. Mary would have a similar chain leading down into darkness. That chain would lead all they way to Lucifer. The embodiment of the Pact Mark had signed, chaining his soul to Lucifer. Every Warlock had the red chain, leading to whatever demon they had made a pact with. If Mary had summoned me the proper way, instead of using that crystal, a thicker, red chain would connect us then the thin, fragile one.

I turned my attention to the black chains. I wondered if any were important. The thickest black chains were his sluts, the Thralls Mark had the most control over, the Thralls most affected by his commands. There were two chains that led away from the house just as thick as the chains connecting to his sluts.

Curious, I touched the chains. Both were women who were up north somewhere. My eyes widened. I had touched these chains before. But I had been distracted by a man’s sex dream, my hungers driving them out of my mind. Who were they? They must be sex slaves of Mark if he had this much control over them.

Interesting. Mary had ordered me to not appear before their sluts or others in their house. Clearly, these two were sex slaves of Mark, but were they “sluts.” Well, as far as I was concerned, Mary was referring to the girls in the house as the “sluts” when she gave me that order. For all I knew, Mary wasn’t even aware of the existences of these two Thralls.

I smiled; the stupid bitch had left me a loophole. Mark and Mary had a lot to learn about dealing with demons. You needed to be quite specific, or we would find so many interesting ways to wiggle out of our agreements and commands.

I investigated the chains, flying north through the Shadows.

* * *

Svitlana “Lana” Paquet-Holub – Port Orchard, WA

My wife and I watched the interview with Master and Mistress on her tablet, the pair of us cuddled together on the cozy bed. We were staying at this cute bed and breakfast in Port Orchard, enjoying our honeymoon.

“Oh, Mistress looks so beautiful,” Chantelle smiled, her voice purring with her Quebecois accent. Her nose ring shimmered from the tablet’s soft glow. While the bed and breakfast didn’t have TV’s in the rooms, they did have free WiFi.

I squirmed against her. “Tomorrow, we get to see them again.”

Master was so kind and loving to let my wife and I finish our honeymoon. That’s how we had met Master and Mistress. We were on this orca watching tour, enjoying our honeymoon, when the most beautiful woman in the world stepped on board. Both my wife and I were burning to meet her. And out of all the women on the boat, we were the two Master and Mistress chose to keep.

“I can’t wait,” I nodded. “I want to meet the other sluts. Some of them are so cute.”

Chantelle made a purring moan. Jessica St. Pierre was back on screen, commenting on her interview. Her voice was like honey. “Do you think she’s one?” Chantelle asked. “Listen to how Jessica talks about Master.”

“Oh, as beautiful as she is, how could Master resist?” I giggled. “She makes me wet. I love her caramel skin.”

My wife turned off her tablet. “Umm, you’re not the only one wet. I’m so soaked.”

I pulled back the blanket revealing my wife’s naked, lithe body. She had a dancer’s build and move with a natural grace. Her pale skin and black hair made her so irresistible. I fell in love watching her dance on stage back at Deja Vu’s, the strip club we used to work at before being claimed.

I was her opposite. Large tits, curvy hips, blonde hair. I just oozed sex. Where she danced with grace, I danced with hunger. Men loved both and had showered us in gifts. Of course, Lana could get so jealous when I played around with the men. Sometimes, I let them do naughty things to me. Unlike Chantelle, I was bisexual. I didn’t mind a hard cock every now and then.

And it drove Chantelle wild when I was with a man. She always had to eat my pussy out so hard afterward. It was like she wanted to remind me why I enjoyed women better and Chantelle best of all. But now we had Master, and we both could enjoy his cock.

“Umm, you do look wet,” I grinned as she spread her sticky thighs. A landing strip of black hair led to her pussy. Her sweet musk filled my nose as I leaned over and took a long, slow lick up her slit.

“Lana,” she moaned, her toes curling. Her voice was so beautiful. I closed my eyes, listening to her passion as my tongue took a second lick through her pussy. My tongue grew more bold as her moans grew louder. I nuzzled and licked, teasing her, tasting her, loving her.

How I loved her. Chantelle made my heart sing. I was so glad I could share Master and Mistress with her.

“Oh, baby. Oh, yes. Keep doing that. You always know where to lick.”

I smiled and licked deeper. Her shuddering sighs were so beautiful. My fingers spread her folds open so I could lick deeper and deeper. Her thighs pressed against my cheeks. They were so soft. I loved every part of her.

My hands explored her. I ignored her breasts and ass. I wanted to tease all those other wonderful spots about her delicious body. My fingers traced her ribs, played with her cute belly button, and found her delicate fingers. I caressed her flat stomach and smooth calves, and tickled the bottoms of her feet.

My tongue buried into her folds while my nose nudged her clit. My every breath was full of her sweet scent. I was drunk on her. I loved her so much. She bucked and squirmed, her hips undulating as her passion grew.

“Lana! My sweet Lana! Oh, yes! Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I moaned between licks.

I moved my lips up to her clit, my hands finally moving to her breasts. I squeezed her perky mounds, sliding up to her hard nipples. Chantelle spasmed as I pinched and rolled her nipples while my tongue played with her clit.

Her moans grew louder. Her orgasm was nearer. Her feet rubbed at my back as she twitched and moaned. She called my name over and mover as I played with her clit. I nipped the nub with my teeth and swirled my tongue in fast circles around it.

“Lana!” she screamed when she came.

My pussy clenched, itching with need as her passion flooded my mouth. I drank down her juices, savoring every delicious drop. I loved her pussy. I loved her. I could feast and worship her for hours. I grabbed her butt, clenching her cheeks as I kept eating.

“You naughty vixen!” my wife gasped as I kept making love to her. “Let me eat your pussy. Mine needs a break.”

“Sure,” I grinned. I wanted to enjoy the last night of our honeymoon.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 5.

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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!