---

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.

---

---

Click here for Chapter 1.

---

---

Darkness and fire descended upon the City of Tacoma. The False God attacked with vain ambition.

—The Gospel of April 35:53

Monday, July 22nd – Brandon Fitzsimmons – Kurtz Farm outside Madison, WI

I stood in a pasture, awaiting sunrise.

Today, I would finally have the power to destroy Mark Glassner and rescue my poor wife Desiree from his clutches. I had spent all night Saturday and well into Sunday feverishly reading Professor Scrivener’s translation of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. I had consumed it all, learning all the possibilities before me.

There were a plethora of demons to be summoned from Lucifer to Lilith, Molech and Dagon. The price for power from most of them were… daunting. But Lucifer… That was the one Mark had used. I knew it the moment I read his ritual. Three wishes in exchange for my soul. A Pact with the Devil himself.

Then I would be a Warlock like Mark. I could do all the same shit he could. The so-called Miracle was just the Tsariy spell. The red light was exactly how the book described the healing magic. And his little tricks on the talk shows were just other spells found in this book. His mind control powers were easily attributable to a wish.

And how he wasted his power. I would educate him.

A giddy rush shot through me as I stood in the field, steam rising from the ground around me as sunrise approached. I hadn’t slept in two days, but I didn’t even feel tired. I was too excited. The day had finally come. Everything had to work perfectly this morning. I killed Professor Scrivener very late Saturday night and no-one had found his body.

Yet.

But that would change today. The weekend was over, in a few hours students and staff would be filling up the campus. They would find his body. They would start investigating. So I could not fail. I needed to perform the summoning properly. I needed to make my Pact before the authorities tracked me down. Before Mark Glassner tracked me down. If he learned I was in Wisconsin, the bastard would send every resource he could after me. He was hunting me. He had sent Doug Allard, my P.I., after me in France.

To kill me.

Mark knew I was a threat, but once I made my Pact, I would be beyond his powers.

I would hunt him.

I had already killed the heifer in preparation of the ritual. It was why I was in this pasture. The rest of her herd had moved on, calming down after the slaughter an hour ago. My hands and clothes were splattered with its blood. I never had to kill and butcher an animal before. The cow just let me walk up to it and shoot it in the head with a rifle while it stared stupidly at me, chewing on some grass. Then I drew a knife and set about butchering the dumb beast.

It was hard work, the animal’s hide was tough, but I managed to hack off a chunk of flesh from its flank. And just in time. The sky lightened as dawn approached. I lit the charcoal barbecue I had brought, almost burning my hand as the flames burst to life the moment the match landed.

“Fuck,” I muttered, shaking my finger. I sucked on it. Probably too much lighter fluid. Well, better safe than sorry. I picked up the bloody side of beef and prepared to throw the hunk onto the coals.

To summon Lucifer, according to the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, the flesh of a heifer must be burnt as an offering and the correct words spoken. I hovered my hand with the steak over the grill, waiting for that first golden ray to appear on the horizon.

I trembled. My stomach twisted. Every moment, my skin felt tighter and tighter. What if the authorities were tracking me down? What if they were racing here to stop me? I was so close. So damned close.

“Rise, you fucking sun,” I muttered, my free hand mopping at my balding pate. It was so warm and humid even before the sun had risen.

The sky grew lighter and lighter. I licked my lips. What was taking so long? Where was the sun? Had Mark stopped it from rising?

“Don’t be crazy,” I muttered. I needed more sleep. How long had it been…?

And then the sun appeared, a sliver of liquid gold bleeding atop a hill, lancing right into my eyes.

My body, coiled by the tension, sprang. The beef fell sizzling into the flames as I intoned: “The Shining One, Son of the Morning, I give this pleasing offering of flesh and ask that you appear before me.”

The meat sizzled and popped as the fire consumed it, and the delicious aroma of beef filled my nose. The smoke curled and wafted, rising up into the sky as I raised my hands into the air in supplication.

“The Shining One, Son of the Morning, appear before your humble servant so that he may beg three favors from you!”

I trembled. Were the words translated correctly? Did I have to speak them in the original Aramaic?

I stared at the rising sun. As more of the golden disk rose from behind the hill, I flinched, blinded by the bright light. I held up my hand to shield my eyes.

And frowned. Was there something moving in the light? I squinted, struggling to see past the blindness.

Something was moving. It came closer.

I shifted my hand around, trying to make out what approached. Was it just my imagination? No, there was something there. Someone. I squinted, trying to make out the figure walking towards me in the glare. Was it the farmer?

Or, did the summoning actually work?

“Hello?” I asked hesitantly, fear gripping my heart and a cold sweat breaking out across my body.

“Hello, Brandon Fitzsimmons,” a man said with a pleasant voice. “It has been a long time since such a fine offering has been made to me.” I could hear the man inhale deeply. Despite the blinding glare haloing him, I could see a smile curling his lips as he savored the scent. “Mmm, USDA grade beef. Delicious. I so miss the old ways.”

Darkness fell across me. I blinked, the sun’s radiance gone. The man had moved close enough to eclipse the sun. I blinked again, a bright, blue afterimage filling my sight, making it hard to see the man for a moment.

And then he became as clear as day.

The figure was a well dressed-man in a black suit, haloed by the sun, almost like he was the sun. A dark sun that shone brightly. He was handsome with dark hair and a friendly smile on his lips. His eyes were scarlet. Ice slid across my skin as his eyes flicked up and down my body.

“I wish to deal with you, Lucifer,” I said with more confidence than I felt. The Devil was real. A part of my mind gibbered.

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “Three wishes for your soul. A fair deal, I think.”

“The same deal you gave Mark Glassner?” I asked, anger flaring through me.

The Devil nodded, unconcerned with my outburst. “He is a remarkable young man.”

“My first wish is for Mark to die.”

Lucifer sighed, shrugged, and gave me a sorry smile. “Alas, I made an agreement with Mark for a long, healthy life. I can’t just go and break my own deals. That is not good business. I think you can understand that, Mr. Fitzsimmons.”

“What, I can’t kill him?” I asked in surprise. “Even on my own?”

His smile turned… oily. “Well, you can try. He’s already survived one assassination attempt. Of course, I never promised him a pleasant or comfortable life. Just a long one.”

I frowned. Well, nothing worth doing was easy. And the thought of prolonging Mark’s suffering, extending it for years and years, was a pleasant one. It warmed my body. He deserved a lifetime of agony for his crimes.

Luckily, I was a careful man. I was prepared for this setback. Nothing ever was easy. I had thought out my three other wishes. I studied the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, reading it over and over again for the last twenty-four hours. If I wished for the ability to control people, there were limitations. Mark could just override my commands with his power, or a Nun could hijack my Thralls. The only way to stop that was the Zimmah ritual, but I couldn’t perform that spell without a living mother. Mine had been dead fifteen years.

But, I had an idea to get around that problem.

“Then, my first wish is to be immune to another person’s magical domination.” I would never be under another man’s control again. I would never sit by while a man—that bastard!—stole my wife, fucked her in front of me, and sent me on my way like a fucking errand-boy.

Lucifer nodded. “A wise choice.”

“Second, I wish for people to obey me unquestioningly.” I took a deep breath. Hopefully, this would work. “For my third wish, I want anyone under my control to be bound to me by the Zimmah ritual.”

The grin on Lucifer’s face broadened. “How very interesting.” He pursed his lips in consideration. “I applaud your strategy, Mr. Fitzsimmons. It has been a long time since I dealt with a mortal with such foresight. We have an agreement.” There was a flash of scarlet light and a contract appeared in Lucifer’s hand.

I took it from him, and read it very, very carefully. And then I read it again. I wasn’t about to get caught by some fine-print trickery. My three wishes were all clearly written just the way I had spoken them. The price was my soul, cheap enough.

I figured I was going to hell anyways.

“Agreed,” I said when I finished reading.

“Good.” Lucifer held out an old-fashioned fountain pen and pricked my thumb. Pain flashed. A bead of scarlet appeared, the tip drinking up my blood. Then he handed me the pen.

I signed in my blood, and Lucifer signed in his.

He rolled up the contract as I shivered. “Well, I’ll be going. Unless you have any questions, Mr. Fitzsimmons?”

“No,” I shook my head

Scarlet flashed. He was gone, the sun shining into my face again.

“I did it,” I gasped, my entire body shaking.

Relief and exultation flooded through me. A dizzy, giddy thrill shot through me. I was Mark’s equal, now. I licked my lips, realizing just what that meant. People were claiming that Mark was a God. Did that make me a God?

Why not?

Mark was just some dumb kid who barely knew how to use his powers. He could be ruling the world with an iron fist instead of playing at democracy. I would school Mark on just how power should be wielded.

The crack of the gun startled me. A bullet hissed past me. The cows mooed in agitation.

“Keep your hands up, sicko!” roared a man.

I looked behind me to see a man approaching from a rust-colored pick-up truck, a rifle leveled at me. He must be the farmer, Kurtz. I didn’t feel any fear despite the fact the man pointed a weapon at me and had already fired one shot.

Why should I be afraid? As if this man could harm me. I was a God.

I smiled at the man, standing confident and sure. I had power now.

“I said hands up, bastard,” growled the man as he came closer.

I ignored him, movement catching my attention beyond him at the truck. Someone else had climbed out of the vehicle, standing beside it, long, blonde hair streaming behind her in the breeze. My smile broadened. I hadn’t had a woman in a month or longer, not since Sister Louise Afra had exorcised me in that shitty motel room I was banished to by Mark.

Anger surged in me. Mark had made me so helpless, so vulnerable. He took away my power. He would pay. Everyone would fucking pay.

“Freeze!” I roared

The farmer and the woman both froze in place, my powers working. My words dominated, just like Mark’s.

My anger at that bastard transformed as I strode towards the farmer. He had shot at me. He could have killed me. My hands clenched. Didn’t he know I was a god? Didn’t this worm understand what had happened in his field?

No. But I would educate him.

Fear burned in the man’s eyes as his body refused to move. He was an older man, late forties, his face tanned leather and his eyes a piercing blue. I reached the man, stared into his eyes. This was power. I could do anything. No one could stop me.

No one!

I glanced at the woman, She was young, just turned eighteen. She had the same blue eyes shining with fear as she stood frozen. She wore a flannel shirt, the tails tied together, exposing a flat, tan stomach. Well-worn jeans hugged her round hips.

My cock hardened.

I glanced at the man and ordered, “Kill yourself.”

I strode forward to the girl. I didn’t flinch at the gunshot. The body slumped to the ground behind me. I had delivered justice. I walked with such a light step. When I reached the truck, I smiled at the horror in the daughter’s eyes. I stroked her cheek.

“He deserved to die,” I told her.

Understanding blossomed in her eyes. The fear, the hatred, the anger all fled. She understood. “Do you know why?”

“Why?” she said, her voice soft. “What did my pa do?”

“He dared to shoot at your God. That is a crime, right?”

“It is,” she nodded. “It was so wrong of him to shoot you.” Her eyes widened. “You’re a god. Like him. Ma—”

“Never say that bastard’s name,” I snarled and her jaws snapped shut. “Now, you have the honor of being my whore, so kneel down and suck your God’s cock.”

“My Lord,” the girl said in awe as she knelt before me.

Her hands shook as she unzipped my pants. She trembled as she drew my cock out, stroking it between her gentle fingers. I moaned as her lips kissed the tip of my dick. I didn’t remember the last time a woman sucked my cock.

Desiree never would.

That would change. Desiree would be the perfect wife no matter how many times I would have to chastise her. The blonde girl’s mouth opened, and I slid my cock in. Her teeth grazed my tip, and I winced in pain.

“Dumb cunt!” I shouted and chastised her hard with the back of my hand, snapping her head back. “Watch the teeth, you stupid bitch!”

“I’m so sorry, my Lord,” she whimpered and quickly sucked my cock back into her mouth. This time, her teeth didn’t graze my cock.

“That’s it, slut,” I groaned, savoring the power. It was intoxicating. I could have any woman I wanted. Desiree would have to remember that. She would need to be grateful that I still loved her. That she was still my wife given all the options I had. “Suck my dick. Worship your god. It makes you so wet to please me. It’s your greatest desire.”

She moaned louder about my dick. She sucked harder. Her mouth was so wet and warm. I closed my eyes, enjoying the blowjob. My balls already boiled. It had been too long since I had a woman. I wouldn’t last too long in her sucking mouth.

So I wanted to enjoy myself.

Gripping her head, I shoved her lips down my cock until I felt the back of her throat. I held her head tightly, loving how she gagged as I thrust forward, roughly shoving my cock down her throat until her lips kissed my crotch.

She struggled, gagging and choking on my cock as it filled her throat. Then she relaxed, remembering my commands. Even though she had never deep-throated a dick before, she accepted it. She submitted to me. I grunted as I fucked her mouth.

This was power.

“You nasty slut,” I groaned “You live to be my cum dump. I’ll spurt into your mouth, your ass, your pussy. It doesn’t matter where. Your holes are only good for one thing—my cum.”

She moaned about my dick, eyes staring up at me with that worship. It was wonderful being a god.

I fucked her faster and faster. My balls tightened. They thwacked into her chin as I dived down her tight throat over and over. I gripped her blonde hair tight, the pleasure shivering through me. My back arched. Her mouth was so hot. So delicious.

“Yes!” I snarled “Drink your God’s jizz, slut!”

I exploded down her throat. My cum pumped straight to her stomach. I pressed her lips into my pubic hair, holding her head tight as I savored every blast of my cum spilling out of me. My hands tightened in her hair. The pleasure peaked.

Then I let her go.

She pulled her mouth off my dick and fell back onto the pasture, coughing, her face red. Saliva dripped down her mouth. She struggled to speak. “Did I… please you?”

“You pleased me,” I told the girl. “A lot.”

“I’m so happy, God,” she answered reverently, kneeling before me, her breasts heaving in her tied-off shirt.

“What’s your name?”

“Ashley.”

“Well, Ashley, you get to be my first…”—What was that word?—“My first concubine.”

A smile crossed her lips. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Get those jeans off,” I commanded, my cock, amazingly, still hard. I couldn’t remember the last time I was ready to go again so quickly. Not since I was in college, I guessed. Or high school, maybe. “I’m gonna fuck your cunt raw!”

She moaned her pleasure as I shoved my cock inside her cunt, tearing through her hymen. She was was so hot and wet inside, and her cunt was so tight as I fucked her hard. I pounded her virgin, barely legal snatch, reveling in the pleasure that engulfed my cock.

“Fuck,” I grunted. “I have to find more virgins to fuck! This is amazing!”

“I’m so glad, my Lord,” she moaned, thrusting back into me. “Fuck my pussy. Dump your cum into my hole. It’s all my cunt is good for.”

“Yes,” I grunted, thinking ahead. I had to prepare to take on Mark Glassner. I would need more than one whore.

First, I had to see my brother. Then I had to make my plans. I would need power to challenge Mark. Where would I get it? I smiled. I knew just where. Mark had thought so small, so prosaic. Not me.

I would show the world how a god truly acted.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 3.

You can read my schedule!

If you enjoyed the story, support me on Patreon!

I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!+