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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 morning of June 19th, 2013 marked the first time the Tyrants put out their public message of “sexual freedom” and “love” that they would always espouse to. The Tyrants, on the surface, seemed champions of the most liberal of ideals, but their very words bound any who heard them speak in the chains of their authority.

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

Wednesday, June 19th, 2013 – Brandon Fitzsimmons – Portland, OR

I logged into my email. It was early. Too early, but I wanted to put more distance between Mark and myself. I frowned. There was only a single email from Doug. Where were the surveillance footage? I wanted to see Mark’s reaction to the news report.

“Technical problem,” Doug’s email read. “I need money to buy a replacement hard drive for the laptop. Until then, I can’t capture any new video.”

I frowned, my fingers on the keyboard about to type my response. Then I paused. It was a brand new laptop. How could its hard drive crash so soon? This came right after… My stomach clenched. Could Mark have figured out where the pictures I sent Carlos Gutierrez were taken from?

No. He was an idiot, but he had an FBI agent for a sex slave.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I slammed my laptop shut. What did Doug know about my movements? Not much. I kept him in the dark. All he had was my burner phone and my email address, and I checked that only after using a bunch of annonymizers. I ripped my burner phone out of my pocket, pulled off the battery case, then the battery. I knocked out the sim card and threw it all into the garbage can. It had been off all night, but maybe it could still be tracked.

I grabbed my bags and fled to my car. I threw it all in, hopped in, and started the engine. My stomach twisted as I backed up. I had to get away. I had to get to that book. Then I could stop living in fear of Mark fucking Glassner.

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for I-5. I couldn’t get to San Fransisco fast enough.

* * *

Mary Sullivan – South Hill, WA

Mark woke me up as he crawled out of bed. He woke up early to enjoy his jogging sluts. It was sweet that he wanted to get in shape for me. Every day he was looking fitter and fitter. The weight loss had happened too fast to be from the jogging. It was probably my wish for Mark and I to be young and healthy.

“Going jogging?” I asked sleepily. It was too early to be awake.

“Yeah, Mare,” he whispered. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” I said, sitting up and stretching. “Um, would you mind if I joined you?” The question came out of my mouth before even I realized the impulse had seized me. I guess after the last few days I wanted to spend more time with him.

I hoped he wouldn’t think I was being clingy. He knew I hated jogging.

Mark only smiled back. “Sure, Mare. I’d love that. I’m sure all the club members will just love you.” He stretched his back, and I admired his flat stomach and lean chest. “But remind me when we get back to talk to Karen about auras and why you might have a golden threat attached to you.”

“Right,” I nodded.

Last night had been so crazy we hadn’t talked to her about my sisters and my possible connection to a nun. After we interrogated the P.I. and Mark gave him a million dollars to hunt down Brandon, we went to bed exhausted. Yesterday was a long and very emotional day. I was so tired, I didn’t even blink at Mark handing Doug a duffel bag full of cash.

Mark could just walk into any bank and ask for more. In fact, it was nice the way Mark had that streak of generosity about him.

But robbing banks made a lot of bad press. Countering that bad press was one of the reasons I started my charity. I had the sluts fill out the paperwork for the clinic Willow would run for us. We were both the officers, so we could use the charity’s finances and not rob banks.

Plus, it would appear like we could cared. Of course, I wanted Willow to screen for potential sex slaves to work for us when we built our mansion. I wanted hot, young, nubile women scampering around in maid outfits. Dozens of them. They would be like the sluts, all eager to serve us.

“Let me use the restroom,” I said. “Then we can go.”

“Want me to fetch a slut,” Mark asked.

I blinked and it was only after I sat down on the toilet and started pissing did I realize what he meant. I should be pissing into a slut’s mouths. It was so exciting urinating into a woman’s mouth then enjoying her tongue licking your pussy clean. Plus, it saved on toilet paper.

I smiled at my little joke as I wiped. After flushing, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was beautiful, but I could enhance it a bit. I applied some light blush and a pale, pink lipstick, then ran a comb through my auburn hair, getting the tangles out before tying my hair back with a blue scrunchy.

I stifled a yawn when Mark walked in, naked save for socks and his jogging shoes. “Coming?” he asked, a little impatient.

“I had to get ready,” I told him, rolling my eyes. Mark could be an idiot sometimes.

“You look great, Mare,” he told me then leaned in to kiss me on the lips.

Well, he was definitely a sweet idiot.

I followed Mark down the stairs also naked. I pulled on a pair a tennis shoes as 34, looking tired in her slutty cop’s uniform, walked in and said something to Mark. I straightened up and walked over to the pair.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“32 reports that a lot of media are gathering out on Shaw Road. She had to call for 25 and 30 to come help her with crowd control,” 34 reported to me. “The media want to interview you, but we’ve kept them out of the street.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered.

“We’re going to need to say something to the reporters, Mark,” I told him. “Then we can enjoy your jogging sluts.”

Mark muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” I asked sweetly.

“Nothing,” he sighed. “I’ll go grab us some tops, then we’ll give a quick interview and send them packing,”

“Your jogging sluts will be waiting for you when we’re finished,” I told him. “So don’t be grouchy.”

“Yeah, they’re a good group of gals,” Mark answered as that boyish grin of his spread across his lips. Then he disappeared upstairs. He came down wearing a buttoned down shirt and handed me a nice, red blouse with a plunging neckline.

He did like looking at my cleavage.

* * *

Jessica St. Pierre

I stared in horror at my phone. I was about to leave for work when it beeped. I couldn’t believe what my boss’s email said. I looked up at Mistress as she pulled on a red blouse. I swallowed, my throat so naked without my new choker on.

I took it off before going to work. People weren’t supposed to know I belonged to Master. I was his spy in the media. But now that stupid hit piece by Carlos Gutierrez had outed me.

“Master,” I called, my heels clicking on the hardwood floors.

“What’s up?” Master asked as he stepped up beside Mistress, his eyes hungry upon me, lingering on my low-cut blouse.

I blushed, but my excitement was banished by the news I had just received. “Master, my boss emailed me.” Tears burned in my eyes. I shivered and swallowed. “I’m suspended because of the photos that got leaked. How am I supposed to be your spy now, Master?”

Master reached out and his finger brushed away my tear. His fingers were so gentle. It was so wrong of Carlos Gutierrez to run that smear campaign last night. Master and Mistress were the best people in the world. I was so glad I served them.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, taking my phone from my hand.

I smiled at him. Mistress gave me a quick hug. “You’re looking sexy today.”

My cheeks warmed and my pussy grew wet, soaking my thong. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Hi, are you Jessica St. Pierre’s boss?” Master demanded. I didn’t hear my boss’s answer. “Good. Unsuspend Jessica St. Pierre and give her a big raise for making her cry. She is your best employee, and you will treat her with respect. Understand?” Master paused and I smiled. “Good.” He hung up and handed me back the phone. “You’re unsuspended.”

“Oh, thank you, Master,” I squealed. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly on the mouth. Then I broke the kiss and sighed; his cock was so hard. “I’m sorry, Master, I have to go. Unless you want me to satisfy you? I could suck you off and speed to work.”

“I’ll fuck you later,” Master laughed and gave my ass a hard smack.

My pussy clenched and I beamed. “Bye, Mistress.”

She smacked my ass, too. I had such a bounce to my step as I headed to my car. They were the best. I was so glad I served them.

* * *

Dr. Willow WolfTail

I came down the stairs wearing a conservative pantsuit, my white doctor’s coat slung over my arm. My neck felt bare without my choker, but Master had ordered his three professional sluts—Jessica, Noel, and myself—to not wear them to work.

“Master, Mistress,” I smiled, not commenting on why they only wore tops. I did eye Master’s hard cock with interest. Maybe I should suck him off before heading to my gynecologist practice.

“Willow,” Mistress smiled. “Good, you’re dressed. The media’s here, and I think this is the perfect time to spin this story back onto our charity. You know the plan well enough to talk about it at to the media?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I answered. “And I’ve found the location for the clinic, filed with the IRS for our 501(c)(3) approval, and put that money you gave me into the accounts as donations from all the other sluts.”

“Wow, when did all this happen?” Master asked Mistress.

Mistress smiled mysteriously back at Master. “I have my ways.”

I didn’t answer. Master didn’t ask me, but it involved a lot of texting. Master could be preoccupied with Mistress or another slut sucking his cock and miss the little details. I think Mistress liked taking care of the little details.

“And the fundraiser? We’re set for a week from Friday?” she asked me.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Fundraiser?” blinked Master.

* * *

Mary Sullivan

“Let’s go see the media,” Mark said, his cock thrusting hard before him.

We were really about to give an interview, no doubt carried live across America, without bottoms on. My pussy clenched. We could do anything. We could be naked and the media would happily let us get away with it.

We had such power.

“Let’s go,” I said, feeling confident. I slipped my arm around Mark’s waist and the pair of us walked out of the house to the awaiting cop car. It was an Orting Police cruiser manned by 34.

“Sir, Ma’am,” she smiled as she opened the back door for us. 34 looked sexy and deadly all at the same time. 34 climbed into the driver seat and Willow took the passenger seat. “You ready, sir?”

“I am,” Mark grinned.

34 drove us down to the end of the street. I blinked in shock at all the media lining up at the entrance of the cul-de-sac, kept back by a few of the bodyguards. There were over a dozen reporters and cameramen. A tremble shuddered through me. There were so many. Already, questions were shouted from the reporters and cameras flashed.

34 opened the door. Mark slid out and held out his arm to me. I swallowed and clutched Mark’s arm like a scared little girl. All my confidence had evaporated. Why was I so afraid? I was better than these people, but their questions assaulted us.

“Why are you naked?”

“What do you have to say to these allegations of sexual bribery?”

“Who are these women? Are they cops?”

The questions slammed into us. I swallowed, trying not to let my eyes dart left and right. Why did I let Mark choose our clothing? Why were we mostly naked. I know I was about to jog in public in the nude, but I hadn’t expect the scrutiny of the media dropped down on us.

“Quiet!” Mark roared.

They all shut up, their mouths snapping closed, stunned looks crossing their faces.

I took a deep breath. Mark was in control. I had nothing to be nervous about. We were better than these reporters. Special. I shouldn’t be afraid of them. They couldn’t do anything to me. They would obey me. Worship me. I could see the female reporters eyeing me with lust, falling under the spell of my wish.

My confidence swelled.

“Good, I’m Mark Glassner, and this is my fiancee, Mary. We’ll give you an interview, but there have to be some ground rules.” He paused, letting his commands sink in. He was good at this. I needed to be just as confident as him. “One, film us from the waist up. Two, do not ever mention our nudity or any sexual acts you witness during the press conference. Three, you will repeat the story that we are innocent victims of an overzealous reporter who believed the lies of Brandon Fitzsimmons, a man bitter about his wife leaving him. Fourth, you will promote our charity.” Mark glanced at me.

“Women’s Health Organization for Reproductive Empowerment,” I answered, my voice clear and loud. Like Mark’s.

Mark blinked at the name. It was quite a mouthful, but I couldn’t resist the little joke.

“Everyone understand?” Mark demanded.

The reporters nodded.

“Good.” It was sexy when he was so confident. My man was the strongest in the world. My pussy clenched as I gazed at the reporters.

One stood out. She was cute, her round face framed by curly, red hair. Her lips were big, lush, and covered with a bold, red lipstick. She wore a charcoal blazer and matching pencil skirt. A light-gray blouse, the top few buttons undone, showed a bit of her freckled chest. A wedding ring glinted on her left hand.

Even so, those lips were so lush they were just begging to suck cock. My pussy grew wetter.

“You, what’s your name?” I demanded imperiously as I pointed at the reporter. Barking commands grew easier and easier.

“Debra Horne-Dannell, Q13 News,” the reporter answered, an excited look on her face.

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” I told her. “You get to come here and suck on my man’s cock.”

“Really?” she asked happily. This was what I was afraid of when I asked for the power to control people—how much I would enjoy it. It was so addicting to make people dance for you. I was afraid of what I might do someday. “I’ve never been this lucky before.”

* * *

Mark Glassner

I smiled at Mare as Debra handed her microphone to her producer and came forward, her hips rolling in her tight skirt. She was a hot, sexy slut. My dick ached as she licked those lush, red lips. And she was married.

That made my dick ache harder.

“You’re the best, Mare,” I whispered as Debra carefully knelt down before me on her stocking-clad knees and grasped my hardening cock. I looked down to see those lush lips open wide and sucked my cock into her warm, wet mouth.

“I know how horny you are, Mark,” Mary said fondly.

I put my arm around her and gently kissed her on the lips as Debra sucked on my cock. I groaned into the kiss, my balls throbbing. The slut’s tongue swirled about the tip before she bobbed her mouth up and down my cock.

“I love you, Mare,” I groaned after breaking our kiss.

Her eyes melted. “Love you right back, my horny stallion.”

Mary reached down and squeezed my ass. It was toned and firm now, not flabby like it had been when we first met two weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime since I made my Pact. My life had changed. I loved it.

We faced the cameras. From the waist up you’d never know I was getting my dick sucked by a beautiful reporter. All these reporters watched me get my cock sucked and were unable to say anything about it.

“Okay, ready, let’s start now. You may all speak again.” I paused, putting on a smile while my dick ached in Debra’s mouth. “Hi, I’m Mark Glassner and this is my fiancee Mary. We have been unfairly targeted by Carlos Gutierrez from KING 5. Everything he said about me and my family is absolute slander.”

“What about those surveillance photos?” a reported asked.

“Doctored,” I answered, my forehead growing warm as Debra’s hands cupped my balls. Her mouth was delicious. “Brandon Fitzsimmons is very bitter that his wife left him for me.”

“I thought his wife was Desiree Fitzsimmons, yet you stand here with a different woman?” a pretty, Black reporter asked. Her eyes kept flicking down to Debra. I could see it in her eyes, she wanted to be on her knees sucking me with the same noisy enthusiasm that Debra did. The reporter slut bobbed her head faster. All the reporters kept looking at Debra, and many of the men were sporting bulges.

I bet they wished Debra would suck their cocks.

“Is there a law against a man having more than one lover?” Mary asked. “Mark and I have a very loving, open relationship, and Desiree is special to the both of us.” Mary turned and kissed me on the lips while her hand caressed the head of Debra. The slut moaned as she bobbed her head on my cock. The pleasure shot through me. This was so hot.

“Are you a bigamist, Mr. Glassner?” a blonde, female reporter asked.

“Bigamy is illegal,” I answered. I focused on her question, but it was hard with Debra’s hot mouth on my dick. “But maybe that should change. Our state recently allowed gay marriage. This is the twenty-first century, and we shouldn’t be telling people whom they can or cannot marry. And if someone wants to have more than one wife, who are we to tell them no?”

“And how do you feel, Mary, about that?” a male reporter asked.

“As long as I’m the number one wife, Mark can have all the women he wants,” she answered with a smile. A few of the reporters chuckled. “I think we all can agree that consenting adults shouldn’t have any restrictions on whom they wish to be their partner or even how many partners they can have. America is about freedom and the government has long oppressed those of us pursuing an alternative lifestyle.”

Mary took a deep breath, her eyes wide with surprise. I don’t think she meant to say all that. I let my hand slide down and give her plump ass a supportive squeeze. She was a wonderful woman. My balls ached. Debra’s mouth sucked so hard on my dick as everyone watched me.

I loved it. I was about to cum.

“You’re the first woman in my heart, Mare,” I said and kissed her. I moaned as my balls erupted, dumping cum into the reporter slut’s hungry mouth while the other female reporters let out awwing sighs at our declaration of love.

I thrust my tongue into my fiancee’s mouth as the second and third blasts of my cum spilled into Debra’s hungry mouth. The slut drank down my spunk. Her mouth sucked hard, eager to draw out every last drop of my cum.

I broke the kiss, the pair of us both breathless.

“But, I’m glad Carlos slandered us,” Mary panted, her cheeks rosy, “because it gives Mark and I the opportunity to talk about our charity, the Women’s Health Organization for Reproductive Empowerment. We are planning to open a free OB/GYN clinic right here in South Hill for any young woman who is struggling to get by. We just want to make sure young women get the reproductive health they need. And we’re partnering with Dr. Willow WolfTail to make this dream a reality.”

Mary held out her hand and Willow walked up beside her. Our Native American gynecologist turned to face the cameras. She took a deep breath and put on a big smile on her cinnamon-toned face. “Hi, I am Dr. WolfTail. I practice OB/GYN in Tacoma, and as health care costs rise, I wish to provide a place for those less fortunate to get the care they need. Thanks to several, generous donors, we have purchased a medical office right here in South Hill. But we need money to buy equipment and renovate the building. So on June 28th, we will be hosting a charity diner at the Puyallup Rotary Club. All proceeds will go to funding this very important medical clinic.”

“This sounds like a great charity,” a male reporter said. “Is there a website people can go on?”

Willow smiled and answered the question. She was a natural at this.

To be continued…

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