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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 2.

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The Living God learned to love all at the hands of his gentle mother. He learned this despite the terrible abuse of his earthly father. Our God rose above the petty abuses and liberated his mother from her bondage. The Holy Mother was welcomed into her divine son’s and daughter-in-law’s loving arms. There she discovered liberation.

—The Gospel of April 21:1-2

Mary Sullivan

Sandy clung to me as I led her to Mark’s Mustang. She was in a daze, one moment stunned with grief over what she had done, the next staring at me with undisguised passion. I wish I could shut off my power, but I hadn’t expected to ever want to.

We reached the car and I opened the door. “Let’s get you back here, Mrs. Glassner.”

“You’re so sweet,” Sandy said to me, giving me a smile and patting my hand. “I’m glad Mark met you. He’s always been so…”

“I know just what you mean,” I smiled at her, then glanced at Mark as he put the Nextel in his jean’s pocket. He looked almost as lost as his mother. “I think we were made for each other.”

“That’s nice,” Sandy muttered, her eyes growing dead again as she sunk back into her despair. She climbed into the back of the Mustang and stared down at her open hands.

I wanted to say something to make her feel better. But I didn’t know what to say.

Mark walked over and climbed into the driver seat. I folded my seat back and slid in. I slipped on my seat belt before reaching over to pat Mark’s hand resting on the gear knob. He looked at me and forced a smile.

“Let’s get home,” I told him.

He nodded and started up the Mustang.

23 and 24 followed us in their patrol car as we drove home. Mark didn’t speed. It was the first time since he got his Mustang. No one spoke as we drove back. The only sound was the chatter on the Nextel.

I kept opening my mouth, wanting to say something, but I just couldn’t seem to find the words. What could I say to either of them? As we neared home, I was embarrassed to hear my stomach grumble. We had been about to get dinner before we were interrupted.

I shifted in my seat as Mark turned onto Mountain View Court, passing the lone bodyguard watching the entrance to the street. She gave us a sad nod. Another bodyguard waited in front of the house, leaning against her cruiser as Mark pulled into the driveway.

“Should we order a pizza, or something?” I finally said. “I mean…” I trailed off as my stomach gave a guilty rumble and my cheeks burned. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I doubt Mark or Sandy had an appetite.

“I guess,” Mark shrugged. “And a bottle of wine or three.” Then Mark caught my hand and kissed my palm. “I love you,” he whispered. “We’ll go out to dinner Monday night, okay.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” I said with a smile, even as a strange, and inappropriate, delight surged through me.

“We have to go to Seattle anyways,” Mark added. “To buy the land.”

Mark and I were planning on building a mansion on the giant, empty lot behind our house. It was supposed to be a housing development before the housing bubble burst. It had a magnificent view of Mount Rainier. I thought it would be perfect for our Mansion.

“Sure,” I smiled. “I would love it.”

I climbed out of the car and folded down the seat. I held my hand out for Sandy. She absently took it, and I helped her out. Sandy seemed lost as I led her up to the door. She didn’t seem aware of her surroundings. I led Sandy to the couch while Mark disappeared to grab the wine.

Brandon Fitzsimmons, the original owner of our house, had good taste in wines and had quite the collection in the basement. We needed to find Brandon. He had sent the FBI to raid our house on Thursday.

But that could wait. I gave Sandy’s hand a squeeze and gave her a sad smile.

* * *

Mark Glassner

I called for pizza as I emerged from the basement with the bottle of red wine. I had no idea if it was a good vintage or not, but Brandon seemed to know his stuff. My phone rang four times before the restaurant picked up.

“Thank you for calling South Hill Deluxe Pizza,” the bored guy said, “would you like to hear our specials?”

“No,” I answered. “I need two pizzas. A meat lover and a half-Hawaiian and half-vegetarian.” Meat lover for me, Hawaiian for Mary, and the vegetarian for my mom.

“Deliver or carryout?”

“Delivery.” Then I gave him my phone number and the address for the house.

“Okay, sir, that’ll be $35.89. How will you be paying?”

“Credit card.” I pulled one of Brandon’s cards out of my wallet. I smiled; it was satisfying making that prick pay for things. I didn’t have to use his card; there were millions of dollars sitting in the basement. “Okay, here’s the numbers.”

I read them off.

“I’m sorry, sir, the card came back declined,” the worker said.

I guess Brandon finally canceled his cards. I really needed to track him down. I tossed the card into the trash and answered, “Cash then,”

“Okay, sir, it’ll be out there in thirty to forty-five minutes.”

“Cool.” I hung up and headed to the kitchen.

I grabbed three wine glasses. They tinked in my hands as I walked into the living room. Mary had my mom seated on the couch. My mom still had the vacant look in her eyes. A sudden surge of anger rose in me. I wasn’t sure why.

I violently popped the wine cork and poured. I handed my mom the first wine glass, the dark-vermilion liquid swirling around. She didn’t say a word. Mom stared at the wine for a moment and then downed it in a single gulp.

I blinked in surprise. My mom wasn’t one for drinking. At most, she had maybe a glass of wine when she saw my aunts once a year. I poured her a second and she sipped it. Then I filled one for Mary and poured a final one for me.

Mary put a supporting arm around my mom. “It’ll be okay, Mrs. Glassner.”

My mom didn’t answer.

I sat on the other side of my mom and took her hand. I gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” I told her. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

She looked up at me and a flicker of life kindled in her dead eyes. “I killed him, Mark. I shot him in the back. How’s that ever going to be okay?”

“Why, Mom? Why did you shoot him?” I asked, squeezing her hand. “I’ll still love you, no matter what the reason. Even if he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was a bastard. He deserved to die.”

“Your father was,” she whispered. “I…I was…” Her voice quivered and her eyes beaded with tears. “I…I…”

“You were with someone else,” I said carefully. Part of me hoped it wasn’t true. My mom couldn’t be having an affair. She was too nice, too wholesome, to do something as sordid as that. Another part of me was glad she cuckold the bastard.

“Yes,” she said. “I…I had been seeing someone for a few years.”

Her confession rocked my foundations. A few years? My mother was so straitlaced. She was so good and proper. To find out she’d been having an affair, for years, was like finding out Gandhi killed people. For years, my mom had refused to leave my dad despite all the times I begged her. She claimed she loved him, and that she was a good Christian. After all the excuses she gave, to find out she was cheating on him for years shocked me.

Who was my mother?

I studied her. At forty-three, she had a great body. She was short and petite. She had always exercised everyday, keeping her figure in shape, and it paid off. Her body was as fit as any twenty year old. Her face had transformed from the pretty and youthful face she had when I was a child into the mature and beautiful face she had now, only slightly marred by a few wrinkles.

“You don’t hate me, do you, Mark?” my mom asked. “B-because I’m a ch-cheating whore.” She sobbed again, her face twisting with pain.

I brushed a strand of brown hair from her face. “It’s okay. You’re not a cheating whore,” I told her. “Dad was a pig. He didn’t deserve you. You deserved some happiness, Mom. So he caught you and your…uh…boyfriend?”

My mom wiped at her tears, an almost grateful smile on her face. “Yeah, my b-boyfriend,” she nodded, flushing. The almost smile vanished. “We were in bed. Your dad was supposed to be playing poker all night with his friends. He was so angry when he caught us. My lover fled and I locked myself in the master bathroom. He pounded on the door. I thought he was going to hurt me.”

I clenched my fist and Mary’s face grew fierce.

“And then he said something about teaching a lesson. I thought he was going after…after my lover. So I left the bathroom, grabbed the shotgun in the closet, and shot him in the back as he stumbled down the hallway.”

“So it was self-defense,” I said. “Or at least, you stopped him from hurting someone. So don’t feel guilty. That’s a perfectly good reason.”

“Was he going to hurt my lover?” my mom asked desperately. “What if he was just storming off, disgusted with me? There was so much pain in his eyes when he saw us. I never wanted to hurt him. I was just lonely…and my lover was there for me. And I just panicked…and…” She trailed off into incoherent sobs.

I embraced her and held her as her grief poured out of her.

Mary paid for the pizza when it arrived, and it set on the coffee table. It grew colder and colder as I held my mother. Mary was crying, as well, tears running down her face as she watched us. She was such a wonderful woman.

Finally, my mom’s sobs decreased into tiny hiccups, and then she pushed away from me and wiped at her tears.

Mom noticed the pizzas. “It’s okay, if you want to eat,” she said. “I…I…” She took another sip of her wine. “He was going to do something to…my lover,” she whispered to herself, trying to convince herself that she was right to shoot him. She took another sip of wine. “He was a bastard. He’s never going to hurt me again.”

I squeezed her hand. “I love you, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mark.” She ruffled my hair, a tremulous smile on her face. “You always were a good boy.”

The pizza was cold, but I was starving, so I didn’t care as I bit in. My mom would be okay. She would get past this horrible event.

* * *

Mary Sullivan

Sandy nibbled at a slice of vegetarian pizza. I wasn’t sure she was actually hungry or merely being polite. I devoured mine even though it was cold. I was starving. Sandy seemed to be holding up better now that she had poured out her emotions.

Mark hadn’t figured out whom his mother was having an affair with, but I had a suspicion.

Sandy smiled at me. “That’s a lovely top, dear,” she said, reaching out to stroke the fabric of my blouse. “I like the feel of it.”

I could see the desire kindling in her eyes. Now that she had poured out much of her grief, she was falling under my spell again. A hot thrill ran through me. Maybe tonight was the time to seduce her so we could bind our sex slaves and protect them.

“Thank you, Sandy,” I replied, flashing her a flirty smile as her fingers caressed my breast through the fabric of my skirt. “I like the color of your robe.”

“This old thing,” Sandy dismissed with a flush. “You are quite beautiful. Mark’s a lucky guy. I hope he treats you right.”

“Oh, he does, Sandy,” I arched, flashing my fiance a naughty grin. “I have no complaints.”

“Good,” Sandy nodded. She shifted and pressed her thighs together beneath her robe. She was naked beneath and her nipples hardened against the fabric. “A pretty little thing like you deserves to be treated right. I enjoyed talking to you on the phone the other day. It was so stimulating.”

Mark flashed me a grin. He knew what was going on.

I remembered that conversation. Mark and I had been driving to Tacoma to meet Dr. Willow. Sandy had grown so aroused hearing my voice, thanks to my wish. I had no idea it would work over the phone. But it did. Sandy grew so horny, she masturbated while talking to me. Mark had been next to me, driving his Mustang, and we both listened to his mother cum over the phone.

My own pussy grew wet now as I savored that memory. I had masturbated with Sandy that day.

“I enjoyed it too,” I purred with a wicked smile. “It was a very pleasurable conversation. I couldn’t wait for you to come over. I hope you can come over and over…to our house.”

“Mmm, I would love to come again,” my mom purred, meeting my innuendos. Just like our phone conversation. “I want to know every thing about you, cutie.”

“Mmm, yes,” I moaned.

Sandy leaned over and hugged me. My nipples were so hard as our bodies pressed together. She was warm and sultry. Sandy nuzzled at my neck and whispered in my ear, “You smell so lovely.”

“So do you,” I sighed, smelling the perfume Sandy wore for her lover.

Sandy broke the hug. Her face was flushed and her nipples seemed even harder against her housecoat. I glanced at Mark and gave him a nod. He needed to leave. I needed to be alone to seduce Sandy and make her so hot and bothered she would let her own son fuck her. It was the only way to make our sex slaves immune to a nun’s control.

And since Mark’s powers didn’t work on his mom, I needed to be the one to do the seduction. We had planned on having me seduce Sandy tomorrow night when she came over for dinner. With my wish, I could get any woman to do any sex act, no matter how depraved.

Like fucking her own son. It would be so hot to share this gorgeous woman with Mark.

“Shit,” Mark said, pulling out his phone.

Sandy jumped. She seemed to have forgotten that Mark was there. Her cheeks crimsoned in embarrassment.

“There’s an emergency at my rental property,” Mark lied. He was very smooth.

“You have a rental property?” Sandy blinked.

“I invested in real estate with some of my poker winnings.” Mark was telling our families that he won money in a poker tournament instead of robbing banks. “There’s a burst pipe. I got to take care of this. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” Sandy said, then she placed her hand on my thigh and rubbed. A hot thrill ran up to my pussy. “I’m sure Mary and I will find something pleasant to do.”

“I’m sure we will, Sandy,” I said, then gave a throaty laugh. We were going to have such wicked fun tonight.

* * *

Mark Glassner

My cock was painfully hard as I walked out of the living room. My mom and fiancee were about to make love. I wanted to watch, but Mary was right. She needed privacy to let her wish work on my mom and get her so hot and bothered she would let me fuck her.

I so wanted to fuck my mother. I burned for it. Fucking my mother would be so taboo. I enjoyed watching Mary cross that forbidden line with her sisters last night. I closed my eyes and pictured mom and Mary kissing. My cock throbbed more.

Groaning, I headed outside.

Redhead 09, the bodyguard watching the house, leaned against her Milton Police Department patrol car. She had a nice pair of tits that filled out her half open blouse. Her legs looked beautiful, clad in thigh-high, black boots and barely covered by her short skirt. I smiled. The way she leaned against the car almost exposed her pussy, and her parted thighs looked so inviting.

My cock throbbed harder.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father, sir,” 09 consoled as I strolled up to her.

I wasn’t.

“He was a bastard,” I spat as I marched up to her. My cock needed relief and 09 would be wet and willing for me. I stopped before her and unzipped my fly. I ripped out my cock. I was so hard, my dick throbbing in my hand.

09 smiled and spread her legs wider. “Mmm, let me make you feel all better,” she purred, lifting up her skirt to expose her fiery-red bush. “I think this will work, sir.”

“Yes, it will,” I grinned. I loved having a bodyguard made up of wet, willing, hot women. They would protect me and fuck me with a smile on their face.

I growled as I shoved up against 09. I held my dick and guided it to her cunt. I thrust in hard, burying to the depths of her hot pussy. 09 let out a throaty moan as my cock filled her cunt, her sheath clenching down on my dick.

I drew back and slammed in hard. I buried into her depths over and over. My thrusts were powerful, angry. I fucked her hard, pounding her dirty cunt. Her cruiser rocked as I pressed her against it.

“Oh, yes, sir,” she moaned. “Fuck my pussy. Mmm, yes. Thank you for picking me! I’m so happy to serve you. Let me help you forget all about your father.”

I let out a snarl. The bastard was dead. He went and died before I could tell him how I felt. Anger boiled at of me. My hips slammed harder into her pussy. 09 let out a painful gasp. I didn’t care. Her face twisted, her hips bucking into my thrusts.

“So hard, sir,” she moaned.

“You are a fucking asshole!” I suddenly snarled at my dead dad as I fucked 09. My eyes squeezed shut. “You’re a worm. A goddamn coward who could only feel like a big man when beating his tiny wife or his kid! And now you are fucking dead! Too scared to face your son grown as a man! Too afraid of what I’d do to you.”

I wasn’t making sense, a tiny part of me realized. I was just ranting. I had to let all the anger and hurt pour out of me as I pounded 09’s pussy. The bodyguard gasped beneath me as I plowed in and out of her tight cunt.

“I wanted to crush you. To strangle you. To feel your life pulse beneath my fingers!”

I could feel my father’s pulse beneath my fingers. The frantic beat of his life was in my hands. The beating of a heart pumping blood through tiny arteries. I squeezed, killing that flutter of life. He deserved to die.

I fucked 09 faster and harder. Her moans were choked off. Her pussy clenched hard about my cock. My fingers were iron, squeezing harder and tighter at my dad’s throat. I had to kill him. Why didn’t I do it earlier? Why didn’t I confront my father sooner?

Then my mom wouldn’t be wracked by the guilt of doing it herself.

I had the power. For a week, I could have marched in and protected my mom. But I left her. I abandon her to my dad while I enjoyed myself fucking all my whores and running around town like I owned everything. Why didn’t I step in sooner?

Because I was the coward. Deep down inside, I was still that cowardly little boy scared of my father.

09’s cunt spasmed hard on my cock as the slut came, milking my dick for my seed. My balls ached. I rammed into her pussy. I growled as my cum burst out of my cock, painting the sluts insides with sticky jizz. My body shuddered as my cum poured out of my cock and my emotions poured out of my soul.

Tears ran wet down my cheeks.

I was the coward. It was my fault Mom had to kill Dad. Sobs rocked my body. I could have stopped all this, but I was still scared of my dad. I was still that little boy, deep inside. I looked at 09 through blurry eyes, her face purple as she struggled to breathe.

My hands were at her throat, squeezing her. When did that happen?

“Fuck,” I gasped as I let go and stumbled back.

09 fell to her knees coughing and struggling to breathe. Guilt and shame burned inside me. What was happening? I could have killed her.

I buried my face into my hands as more tears came. My dad was dead. I would never get to see him again. I didn’t even remember the last time I saw him, or what he said to me. My emotions were all twisted together into a knot of anger, hatred, love, and grief.

A woman hugged me, her hair silk against my face. “Shh, it’s okay,” 09 cooed, her voice raspy. Even after I strangled her, she still loved me. What choice did she have; I made her love me. “It’ll be fine. You’re strong, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s okay, sir,” she whispered. “It was so exciting. I came so hard when you were choking me. You could do it again, if you want.”

I had heard being strangled makes sex more intense. I guess it was true.

“I’m yours to do with as you please, sir.”

She sounded so sexy.

“No, forget that it happened,” I told her. “We just had regular sex.”

“Thank you for fucking me, sir,” she said, wiping at my tears. “I’m glad my slutty cunt satisfied you, sir.”

“Yeah, it did,” I said, standing up. I breathed in deeply, regaining control of my emotions. Dad was dead. I had arrangements to make.

* * *

Sister Theodora Mariam – Miami, FL

The ringing phone woke me up.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. It was two in the morning. After last night, I needed to get some sleep. Antsy and I had taken this guy back to our motel room from some bar to fuck. I figured I would let a guy get Antsy all hot and bothered, and then I could have an easy time fucking her so I could perform the Prayer of Avvah upon her.

And it worked.

When I woke up this morning, Antsy was a horny minx. She fucked Travis and ate me out. But she wasn’t satisfied with the results. She had this urge, thanks to the Avvah prayer, to find the right person to fuck—her brother, Mark Glassner.

Mark was a Warlock—a man who had made a pact with the Adversary, selling his soul for three wishes—terrorizing the Pacific Northwest. He made the news most nights. He went from a terrorist causing people to obey him thanks to “gas,” the only explanation people could come up with for his mind control powers, to now viewing him as an innocent man wrongfully persecuted by the FBI.

He was the boldest Warlock I had ever seen. He had to be stopped. My fellow nun, Sister Louise, had tried. But she hadn’t known there was a second Warlock named Mary. It disgusted me that the Warlock had the same name as one of my daughters. Sister Louise was captured or dead. And even worse, Mark and Mary had access to an actual demon—Lilith.

That was why I needed Antsy. She would fuck Mark and form a bond with him. Neither would ever desire another person again. It was cruel to do to Antsy, but it would split Mark and Mary apart, making the pair of Warlocks easier to deal with.

The phone rang again. It was so loud. After a week of partying with Antsy, I was ready for a good night sleep. Thanks to her need to be with Mark and how unfulfilling sex with others now was, she didn’t go out tonight.

“Sorry,” Antsy muttered as she sat up in the other hotel bed. She reached out and snatched her phone off the nightstand where it was charging. “It’s my stupid brother. Ugg, I don’t want to talk to him.”

Her finger was moving to hang up. I couldn’t let her do that. She needed to get together with her brother. I didn’t like doing this, but it was the only way. So I shouted, “Wait.”

“What?” Antsy asked, her finger stopped above the phone.

“It’s late,” I said, trying to think of a reason to get her to answer the phone. “It…it…must be important. Yeah, important. People only call in the middle of the night when it’s life and death.”

“I guess,” Antsy said, rolling her eyes. She rolled out of bed and stretched her naked body. “Hey bro.”

I couldn’t hear what her despicable brother said, but a look of stunned disbelief crossed Antsy’s face. And then, in the quavering voice of a little girl, she whispered, “He’s dead?”

Her legs gave out beneath her. Antsy stumbled into the side of the bed before falling upon the mattress. Her eyes were wide with pain, a tear trickling down her cheek. She noticed me staring and turned away, trying to hide as her brother talked to her.

Her aura went from silver, the color of a normal person, to black, the color of a person under a Warlock’s power. Her brother had just given her a command, exerting his mind control over her. It wasn’t much control, his hold wouldn’t last long. Odds were she would have done whatever he asked without him controlling her. I judged her aura would be silver again by tomorrow afternoon.

“I’ll be on the plane,” Antsy repeated to her brother. “Tomorrow morning at 7:55 AM, American Airlines.” Antsy swallowed. “Mark, how’s Mom doing?” She paused, listening. “Okay, okay, we’ll talk when I land.” Another pause. “I love you, too, Mark.” And then she hung up.

“My daddy’s dead,” Antsy said in her quivering, little girl’s voice. Her face contorted in pain and then the sobs overtook her.

The mother in me took over. I rushed to her bed and wrapped my arms around her. What had happened? “I’m so sorry, sweetie?”

I held the girl to my chest and rocked her gently as she sobbed her heart out.

To be continued…

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