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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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The most pernicious Warlocks are those who bind with their words and deeds, transforming a person into their Thrall, a slave to the will of the Warlock. But the Creator, in his loving mercy, has given us the tool to turn the Warlock’s most trusted servant into our weapons—the Prayer of Shama.

—excerpt from The Prayerbook of the Order of Mary Magdalene

Kaeden Trengrove – South Hill, WA

“Hey, Kaeden,” Illness, the barkeep at the Lucky Cowgirl greeted me as I sidled up to the bar.

Illness wasn’t the name he was born with, just the name everyone called him. “Because I’m so Ill, man, you know, cool,” he would say in his gravely, burnt-out voice, sounding like an aging rocker who partied too hard in his twenties and lived to regret it.

“A pint of Sam Adams,” I said, sighing as I sat down on the bar stool.

“You one of the…?” He left the end of his question hanging.

I grunted.

“Rough, man. Real rough.” He finished filling the pint and set it down in front of me. “So, did it really happen?”

I shrugged. My PBA rep told me not to talk about it. I wasn’t even sure what really happened. One minute, I was storming this Mark Glassner house, the next I realized what an asshole I was for raiding an innocent man’s house and scaring him and his girlfriend in bed. I was a member of the Pierce County SWAT team. That night last week, we had been loaned out to the FBI.

When I went into the house, I wore my chemical gear. I wasn’t supposed to be affected by his mind control gas. And yet now I couldn’t help thinking about Mark as innocent. Nothing he could do was a crime. It only made sense that I abandoned the raid at his command. And then when this fine-ass girl, completely naked, walked up to me with a busty Latina in tow, I couldn’t resist them.

They had fucked my brains out upstairs. Mark was giving back to us for being cops even after we kicked down his door.

And now I was probably out of a job. And maybe facing prison time. Accepting sexual favors as a bribe, Internal Affairs called it. But how could it be a bribe? Mark Glassner gave me Alison and Desiree to enjoy.

Nothing he did was a crime, so he couldn’t bribe me.

It was so damned frustrating. It was why I was back at the Lucky Cowgirl—I hoped to get lucky. And drown my sorrows. Last time I was here, I had gotten real lucky. This vivacious blonde name Erin had waltzed in and flirted outrageously with me and a few of my drinking buddies. We were drawn to her; she was just so fucking sexy in her tight jeans and revealing top. And she just ate our attention, touching us, laughing at our bad jokes. I grew more and more bold and soon it was just me and her at the bar, and she let my hands roam everywhere. When I whispered in her ear that I wanted to fuck her brains out, she laughed and suggested the bathroom. I gave her a good fucking all while this creep listened to us from the next stall.

And then she asked me to go get us drinks.

I waited at the bar while she cleaned herself up. And waited, figuring she had to reapply her make-up. You know women. When she did emerge, she was with this other guy, her arm wrapped around him, clinging tightly to him. They clearly knew each other. I guess he was her boyfriend. But I just stood at the bar like an idiot realizing that the guy must have been the creep in the next stall. They were like playing at cheating or something.

It was straight out of letters to Penthouse.

After the day I had, I wouldn’t mind banging Erin again. Her guy could watch for all I cared. I just needed something nice to happen to me, today. I just needed something pleasant to help me forget what a shithole my life just became. All the hard work, all the sacrifices to become a SWAT officer, wasted. The job had cost me my marriage to Sally and a few girlfriends since. Now all of it flushed down the shitter, and I couldn’t even begin to understand why I was even in trouble.

Mark Glassner gave me those women to fuck. Why couldn’t Internal Affairs understand that?

“Why so down, handsome?” a tall, African American woman asked. She sat on the bar stool next to me. Her accent was strange, like she was an actual African, from Nigeria or something. She was beautiful, young, with coal-black skin and short, curly hair. Her lips were big and smiling beautifully.

I snorted. “I’m in a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, how sad,” she consoled, placing her hand on my arm and stroking me gently. Her touch was nice. “Maybe I could make it all better?”

She was fucking gorgeous. My cock throbbed. Damn, this bar was something else. Was she another woman with her hubby jerking off in the stall waiting to be cuckolded. “How can you make this better?”

She smiled promisingly. “What are you drinking?”

“Sam Adams.”

“Buy me one, and we’ll see if I can’t make you forget all about your problems,” she promised, her fingers running up my arm to my biceps. “Mmm, you work out. I love a man with big muscles.”

“I’m a SWAT officer,” I told her. Some women got off on banging cops. We called them badge bunnies. And the way this woman’s eyes lit up, she was definitely a badge bunny.

“How exciting,” she purred. Illness set a pint before her and she took a deep gulp. “It must be very stressful, all that danger.” Her voice dripped with sex. I bet her cunt was just as wet. My dick was so hard. A nice fuck would really help me to forget this shitty day.

“Oh, very stressful,” I said with a shrug. “But, I live for the danger.” I used that BS on so many ladies—they lapped it up.

Her laugh was throaty and exciting. “And how do you relieve all that stress? I bet it just gets bottled up inside you, begging to be released.”

“Oh, I could think of a few ways to relive the pressure.” I winked at her.

“Your hand, non?” she asked archly.

I laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Sure, but there are definitely more pleasant ways to relieve the pressure.” I took a drink of my beer. “Of course, they require someone’s assistance.”

She sipped her beer, her pink tongue licking foam off her upper lip. “I have been told I am very skilled at relieving stress.”

My cock was rock hard in my pants. God, I loved this bar. I had never met a girl as easy as Erin, but this African chick was giving that slut a run for her money. Well, it worked last time, so I leaned over and whispered, “I want to fuck your brains out. Right now.”

She stood up, her smile eager, and took my hand. She was aggressive as she pulled me across the bar to the men’s room and pulled me inside. I didn’t mind. She could be as aggressive as she wanted so long as I got into her snatch.

She took me to the last stall and opened the door. Memories of Erin bent over the toilet as I fucked her from behind flashed in my mind. Would this mysterious Black woman’s cunt feel as good as Erin’s had?

I didn’t even know the slut’s name.

But that didn’t matter as she kissed me as soon as we were in the stall. She writhed against me, humping on my dick. My hands slid down her back and kneaded her ass through her short skirt. I lifted the skirt up and she wasn’t wearing any panties. I gave her naked ass a squeeze, my fingers digging into her crack.

Her tongue thrust into my mouth, aggressive and hungry. She moaned into the kiss as I played with her ass. She was eager for it. Her hands fumbled at my belt. It came undone and she shoved her hands into my jeans and found my cock.

“Fuck,” I groaned, breaking the kiss. “You are one wild slut.”

“I always am when I get the chance,” she purred as she pulled my cock out. She stroked it a few times. “Mmm, this is a nice cock.”

“Wait until you feel him in you.”

She laughed and let go. Then she ripped off her dress. I groaned as I stared at her lithe, coal-black body. She took her fingers, slid them between her ebony breasts, and down to her black bush. They vanished between her thighs and she shuddered as she fingered her snatch.

Her fingers came out coated in her juices.

“See how wet I am for you,” she moaned. “Fuck me!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. “You are a slut.”

I pinned her against the side of the stall. She wrapped her legs about my waist and seized my cock. My dick found her Black pussy. I thrust all the way into her depths, my balls smacking into her tight taint. Her thighs tightened about my hips as she undulated and moaned.

I pounded away at her hot cunt. I groaned as I pistoned in and out of her silky flesh. I needed this. I needed to forget my problems. All that mattered right now was how amazing her cunt felt on my cock as I fucked her tight, wet depths.

“Fuck you’re tight, slut,” I moaned. Any girl as easy as her, badge bunny or not, was a slut. “Love how you feel on me.”

“Mmm, your cock is stirring me up,” she moaned. “Oh, yes. Spear me, stud! Oh, I love having a nice shaft spearing inside me!”

Her hips fucked me back, matching the furious rhythm. The stall wall creaked as she writhed against it. Our flesh slapped together. Her moans echoed through the bathroom. The slut wasn’t shy if anyone heard us.

My balls boiled. I was so close to cumming. I couldn’t believe it. This was too damned hot. I needed to cum in her hard. I didn’t care if she came. I just needed to feel that sweet release as I spilled inside her. She was as tight as a vice about my cock. She kept squeezing and clenching.

The slut was eager for my cum.

I growled as my balls tightened. I squeezed and kneaded her ass as I pounded her. The friction sent pleasure sparking to my balls, building the pressure inside. I groaned as my orgasm rushed near and nearer.

“Yes, yes! Oh, God I’m gonna cum!” I moaned. Her legs were wrapped so tightly about me I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to.

“Cum in me,” she moaned.

“Fuck,” I groaned as I slammed once more into her. My shuddering release exploded from my cock. The cum boiled into her pussy. My head threw back and let out a mighty groan as the endorphins filled my mind with wonderful bliss.

Her finger drew on my forehead with her sticky pussy juices. Her lips nuzzled my ear and whispered, “Shama.”

Everything vanished from my mind. The pleasure from cumming, the fear and frustration of facing the end of my job. None of that mattered right now. The only important thing was doing exactly what this woman told me to do.

“Good,” she muttered, pushing me back. My cock popped out of her cunt. “I am Sister Agnes.”

I nodded my head as she gave me my instructions.

* * *

Sister Theodora Mariam

The Drunken Pugilist may be the emptiest bar I had ever seen at happy hour. One old man sipped a pint at the bar while a bored barkeep was watching the Mariners play the Angels. A fond smile crossed my face as I remembered Sean, my ex-husband, getting so excited during their ’95 season and how crushed he had been when the Mariners lost to the Indians and ended the Mariners World Series hopes.

“Focus, Theodora,” I whispered to myself. It was pointless to dwell on the family Kurt had stolen from me. I needed to focus on what was important—stopping Mark from destroying other families like Kurt had done.

Sister Isabella followed me in. Her, Sister Agnes, and I had let Providence guide us to or destinations. We needed to gain control of the SWAT Officers. I figured they must be at bars trying to drown their sorrows. So we opened up the phone book to the listing of bars, closed our eyes, and stabbed our fingers down. Sister Agnes selected the Lady Luck while Sister Isabella and myself ended up here..

I scanned the bar, hoping I was actually following Providence. The only other people were the two men sitting at a booth in the back, almost hidden in the shadows. Their auras were blacker than the shadows—the aura of a Thrall enslaved by a Warlock.

I sighed in relief. It was clear that Mark had given the two men an order which must have rewritten parts of their personality. Well, they were cops and I could imagine the sort of orders Mark must have given. “Let me commit crimes,” he probably ordered, or, “I can’t do anything wrong.”

Both guys looked miserable as we approached. A pitcher of beer set between them along with a few empty shot glasses. Both were fit, broad-shouldered men. A swarthy Mexican with a thick mustache that ruined an otherwise handsome face, and a squashed-face white guy with a crew cut.

“Hi, boys,” Isabella purred with her sexy, Latina accent.

The Mexican’s eyes lit up when he saw us. “Hello, ladies,” he said with a smile, and motioned to the booth. “Care to cheer up a pair of cops having a bad day?”

“Christ, Riz, do you have to flirt with every chick?” the White guy asked.

“Hey, man, why should I deprive my charm from any beautiful woman?” Riz protested. “Ignore him. He’s married and forgotten how to treat such heavenly creatures as yourselves.”

“Riz?” I asked, and then Isabella sat down next to him, leaving me with the White guy.

“Because his real name is pretty stupid,” the White guy said and a grin momentarily crossed his lips before his pain returned.

“Oroitz is a perfectly manly name,” Riz joked. “Besides, what kind of name is Duncan?”

“A highlander’s,” I said with a smile. Everyone gave me a blank look. “Um, you know, ‘There can be only one.’ The Highlander?”

“Yeah,” Duncan muttered and took a swill of his beer. “The TV show, right. Not the movie.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. Sean had been a big fan. We used to…

No, focus on the present. Don’t get mired in the past. It was gone.

“So, what has you guys so down?” Isabella asked. “Women, right?” Both men grunted and Isabella smiled wickedly, leaning closer to Riz and placing her hand on his. “I hope not the same woman.”

“No, chiquita, not the same woman,” Riz admitted. “We’re both in the doghouse because of work. My girl broke up with me, and Duncan’s wife kicked him out.”

“Oh that’s terrible,” I cooed, scooting up against Duncan. His eyes glanced at my cleavage and then a guilty flush suffused his face.

Across the table, Isabella snuggled up to Riz, who put his arm around her. “Yeah, it’s terrible. Me and Alicia had been dating for entire weeks. Such a tragedy.”

“Well, maybe I can make you feel better,” Isabella said with a naughty smile. From how her arm was moving, she must be rubbing Riz’s leg. Or maybe even his crotch based on the big grin filling Riz’s face. And then the two were talking in rapid Spanish. In my few weeks living in LA I picked up a smattering of Spanish, but I could not begin to follow their conversation.

Duncan just sat like a log next to me, staring down into his beer. “What’s the problem?” I purred. “You might feel better if you tell me about it.”

A look of self-loathing crossed his face. “Sure,” he snorted bitterly, his voice a little slurred with drink. “Why the fuck not.” He down the rest of his beer. “You heard about the whole SWAT scandal?”

I nodded my head. That was why Providence led me to this bar—to bind Duncan to me. Mark had foolishly made a bunch of highly skilled men his Thralls and didn’t bother to protect them. “There are subtle signs,” Ramiel told me in my dreams last night, “to tell if the Bond of Zimmah chains a Thrall to the Warlock. The black aura will have the an almost imperceptible fringe of red about it. So minute, you have to know to look for it.”

As far as I could tell, neither of these men were bound to Mark. I was close enough I should see the fringe. Without that, we could control them with the Prayer of Shama.

“Yeah, instead of arresting the people, the SWAT unit… eh…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding insensitive.

“Fucked them,” Duncan finished, biting his words. “We didn’t do anything wrong, right? No one gets that. Mark’s innocent, and those women were just gifts. It was a… present to us. For being cops. My wife doesn’t get it, and Internal Affairs doesn’t understand. They call it sexual bribery.”

“Excuse me, Vato,” Riz said as Isabella scooted out of the booth. “You understand, right?”

“Yeah,” Duncan grunted, staring at his drink as Riz and Isabella disappeared out a back door into the alley behind the bar. A ragged sob suddenly escaped Duncan’s lips. “I don’t know what happened. We burst into the master bedroom, and Mark, buck naked, falls on the floor as he tried to get up. Then he just tells us to stop pointing our guns and help him up. And we did. ‘Cause it turned he was innocent. It all made sense when he explained to us. And then… this redhead just grabs me and Driscoll and takes us inside and has us fuck her. She treated us like shit, insulted us, and we just took it. Then the other women showed up and treated us real nice. And now it’s all over the news and…”

He took a swig of beer. “Kathanne kicked me out. I never cheated on her, before. I still haven’t. Fucking those women was a gift. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t understand Mark. Why did she have to kick me out? I love her.”

Poor bastard. Another Warlock’s victim. I reached out, rubbed his leg, and kissed him on the cheek. “You poor guy,” I murmured. “Let me take some of that hurt away.” I slid my hand up his jeans to his crotch, his cock growing beneath my touch.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he protested. “I—”

I cut him off with a kiss, his mouth sour with beer, as my fingers slid his zipper down. He was hard, despite his protests, and I stroked him to his full girth. His cock was warm and trembled with his heart beat against my palm. I stroked him, my pussy growing wetter and wetter.

“Shh, don’t fight, Duncan,” I whispered as I lowered my head down to his crotch. I disappeared beneath the booth’s table.

He moaned as my tongue licked around the head of his cock, salty with his pre-cum. I played with the tip, tracing about the edge of the gland. Then I slid up and licked through his slit, collecting a fresh drop of precum. He groaned and squirmed, his hand resting on my head, not gripping me.

I hoped he didn’t try to stop me.

I sealed my lips around his crown and sucked, letting my tongue flick at the tip. He groaned and throbbed in my mouth. I slid a hand down between my legs and up into my cunt, getting my fingers sticky with my pussy juices so I would be ready to draw the Mark of Qayin on his forehead.

His hand tightened on my head, then his fingers slid through my brown hair. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Sorry, Kathy. She’s too good.”

I cupped his balls as I swallowed more of his cock. I bobbed my head, my tongue constantly caressing while my cheeks hollowed. I fingered myself, savoring the thrill of blowing a stranger in a bar. Anyone could catch us.

My pussy clenched on my fingers. Emboldened, I slid my mouth down his shaft until he brushed the back of my throat. I sealed my lips tight about his shaft as I rose, sucking harder. Duncan moaned in appreciation, the seat cushions creaking beneath him.

I bobbed my head faster, fucking my mouth up and down his cock. I wanted him to come so I could unleash the Shama prayer on him. He would help me fight back against the Warlocks who ruined his life.

“Jesus,” he moaned. “Fuck, you’re good. Christ, I don’t even know your name.”

I popped his cock out of my mouth. “Theodora.”

I sucked in a deep breath before I swallowed his cock. His precum filled my mouth. I loved the salty treat. I fucked my fingers faster and faster inside my pussy, stirring up my heated flesh and sending delicious flutters through my body.

My other hand massaged his balls. I played with them, massaging them, eager for his cum to explode into my hungry mouth. My fingers moved faster, my orgasm building as his hand tightened in my hair.

“Shit, Theodora. I can’t believe this is happening.”

His body tensed as he neared his explosive release. I forced myself to rip my fingers out of my cunt. I couldn’t focus on my pleasures right now. I had a mission. I needed to be ready to spring the moment he came.

His cock throbbed in my mouth. His balls tightened in my hand.

Duncan was a gentleman and warned me. “I’m gonna cum, Theodora.”

Warm cum shot into my mouth. I moved as I swallowed his first blast, sliding my mouth off his dick. The second blast just flew up in air and landed on my blouse, a line of sticky fluids staining my clothing. I didn’t care. I thrust my fingers on his forehead and drew the Mark of Qayin with my pussy juices.

A third blast landed on my stomach.

“Shama.”

The Mark of Qayin blazed white and Duncan went blank as the prayer took effect. I panted, licking the cum staining my lips as I sat on the booth. My pussy was on fire. I glanced at the restroom. Isabella would have no trouble putting Riz under her control.

“Duncan,” I said and told the man the plan.

He nodded his head as he absorbed my orders. Worry gnawed at my stomach. Was this really necessary? Duncan and the others SWAT officers, highly trained, paramilitary cops. People were going to get hurt if we used them. People I was supposed to protect. I always thought the Order of Mary Magdalene existed to help people.

The Greater Good, Ramiel’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. Not even the Promised Land was taken without bloodshed.

“The Greater Good,” I whispered to myself as I waited on Isabella. “It was all for the Greater Good.”

I just needed to have faith in Providence.

To be continued…

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