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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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Karen Reddings, formerly Sister Louise Afra of the Order of Mary Magdalena, was laid to rest beside the other victims of the Tyrants, killed for being close to them. Though she betrayed her holy order, she was still a slave to the Tyrants. Another of their many victims.

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

Tuesday, July 23rd – Mary Glassner – South Hill, WA

The sluts were all waiting for us at Thun Field when our plane landed. We had flown all night from Paris, arriving in the early hours of the morning here in Washington state. I felt wrong out, exhausted, squeezed thin by Karen’s death.

She was our slut. She used to be our enemy, but then she submitted to us. We loved her.

Why did we ever let Lilith fuck her?

It happened in the aftermath of Karen’s attack on us when she had been a nun, Sister Louise Afra. Mark and I had almost lost our Pacts at the hands of Karen, Korina was shot in the shoulder, and Desiree only alive because I had made a wish with Lilith, using one of the three I was given. The demon seemed our ally then. When she asked to fuck Karen, I didn’t see the harm.

But it was part of her damned plan. She put a demonic baby into Karen and then waited until Mark was so vulnerable she could snatch up our slut. Mark had no choice but to hand over Karen. Everyone bound to him by the Zimmah spell would have died with him: my family and our sluts. And I would die, too. Mark wished for a long life, so I wished to live as long as him and for us to stay as young and beautiful when I made my Pact with the Devil.

If Mark had died, so would I. And that would kill his family who were bound to me.

“Master, Mistress,” Alison sobbed, the first to break away from the sluts to hug us. “She’s dead!”

She threw herself into Mark’s embrace. I hugged them both, and then the sluts mobbed us. Lillian, Desiree, April, Violet, Korina, Xiu, and Jessica. They held us tight. All of us were crying, grieving her loss, holding each other.

We were a family. A strange family, united through domination and submission. But Mark and I loved our sluts. And we knew they loved us back. They agreed to stay our sex slaves. It was their choice.

“What do we do?” Violet asked, her voice tremulous. She pressed against me, her innocent face framed by pigtails.

“We’ll make sure Lilith pays,” Mark growled. “She killed one of my sluts. One of the women I loved.”

“Yes,” Desiree said, her voice fierce. “That bitch deserves it.”

“She’s such a cunt,” Lillian snarled. “We’ll make sure she pays.”

“Seattle PD is on it, Master,” reported Jessica. “I spoke to the chief myself.”

Mark had the man under his power, like the heads of every law enforcement agency in Pierce, King, and Thurston Counties.

“We will make her pay,” I hissed, such anger in me. Such rage. I couldn’t believe I could hate this much.

But I did. All Lilith had to to do was return Karen alive, and then she wouldn’t have to pay. But she would suffer. Whatever plans she had for that infant, we would undo them. We would ruin them. They would come to nothing.

Nothing!

* * *

Thursday, July 25th, 2013 – Mark Glassner – Puyallup, WA

We buried Karen in the Woodbine Cemetery next to Chasity and the six bodyguards who had died in the June attack. The Cunningham twins, our high priestesses, performed the funeral, dressed somberly in modest, black dresses. Tiffany, Mary’s mother, wept the loudest as we buried Karen. They were both nuns and close. Karen was the one who had rescued Tiffany from the Warlock who had made her a slave and ripped her from her family.

She wept over Karen’s grave, hugged by her husband, Sean. Guilt and anger warred inside me as I stared at Tiffany. She was responsible for Chasity’s death. I wanted to hate her, but it was so hard. I couldn’t spare any hate except for the things responsible for Karen’s death.

Lilith.

Me.

A wave of grief washed over me. I swayed in my suit. I was responsible for Karen’s death. At that moment, dying, I made a choice to give Karen over to the demon. I knew Lilith couldn’t be trusted, that she was evil, but I was desperate.

So, in a way, I was also responsible for Karen’s death. I didn’t mean for Karen to die, but that didn’t change what happened. The outcome led right here. I could have made sure my deal was iron-clad, could have ensured that Lilith had no wiggle room. That she would bring my Karen back to me alive.

And I didn’t.

I stared at my mother-in-law. I had seen the footage from the Miracle, watched Chasity rise up to defend Mary in the final moments of her life, aiming her taser at Tiffany. It was a futile effort. Maybe Chasity thought disabling Tiffany would end the attack. I don’t know.

Her taser hit Tiffany’s body armor. Then the SWAT Officers opened fire and gunned her down.

But Tiffany didn’t mean for Chasity to die. She was doing what she thought was right, trying to stop the evil Warlocks. Mary and me. To stop us from dominating people, from changing the world. She was tricked by the angels into attacking us because they feared our rising power. So they used Tiffany, sent her to kill her own daughter, and let her believe there was no choice but violence.

They tricked her just like Lilith tricked me.

I was moving before I knew it. My arms went out and engulfed Tiffany. My mother-in-law stiffened in my arms for a moment, confused at the sudden gesture. I let go of the anger I had been holding onto, the misplaced rage towards her. She was tricked by the angels, just like I was tricked by the demons. There were more important things to hate than Tiffany.

“I forgive you,” I whispered into her ear.

Tears ran down my mother-in-law’s face. She opened her mouth to say something. But the pain was too near. I couldn’t handle this. I killed Karen. This was all my fault. Even Chasity would be alive if I never made her my slut.

I turned and walked back to the limo.

Mary caught up, slipping her arm about my waist. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze, pulling my wife tightly against my side. Tears stained her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I didn’t forgive her for you.” I glanced at my wife. “I did it for her. This is all my fault. Chasity only died because I enslaved her.”

She shook her head. “It’s not, Mark.”

“I made the Pact with the devil. These are the consequences. People I cared for are dead now. And that’s not counting the SWAT officers killed during the attack, innocents sent to fight me. Lilith is up to something because of me. Lana and Chantelle have vanished.” I shook my head. They had been missing for over a month, never returning from their honeymoon.

I feared the nuns had them.

“You’re wrong, Mark.” She glared at me. “Lilith gave you a promise. Maybe she followed the letter of her word but not the spirit. She killed our Karen. No one else, Mark. You made that deal to save all their lives. Karen would be just as dead if you hadn’t. I bet she knows that.”

I froze. “Do you?”

“I bet she’s watching us right now. Alison said she dreamed it. She’s with Chasity and the other bodyguards watching us, loving us. She smiled when she told me. ‘Karen’s happy,’ she said. ‘She’s waiting for you. I talked to Sam. The Zimmah bond holds us to you even in death.’ Then she squealed something about being our slaves with Desiree forever. You should have seen her.”

I glanced at Alison and the other sluts filing up behind us in their conservative dresses. It didn’t feel right for them to dress like sluts today. Alison gave me a smile and a nod, like she knew what Mary had just told me.

“Thanks,” I whispered to Mare. I almost could feel Karen watching us. Even if it was a lie, it was a nice lie for us to believe.

Leah waited at the limo. She wore a more conservative chauffeur’s uniform than usual, her dyed-blonde hair pined up beneath her hat. She nodded, holding the door open so we could climb into the limo. It was a temporary one; the armored limo should be delivered in a few more weeks.

To my surprise, 51 slid in after us, holding a manila folder. “Sir, we’ve had our first lead on your missing slaves, Chantelle and Lana.”

I blinked in shock. “Really?”

“Where?” Mary asked, eager.

51 handed us the folder. I opened it across our laps, my wife leaning in. Inside were color photos of a lobby. They were security cam footage, and you could make out black-haired Chantelle and blonde Lana easily enough. Then I blinked. Both looked incredibly pregnant.

That was impossible.

Mary frowned, biting her lip.

“What?” I asked her.

“That looks like them,” she said. “The blonde has the same blue streaks dyed in her hair like Lana had. But these women look nine months pregnant. That can’t be right. It’s only been a month and a half since we last saw them.”

Lilith?

“Where is this from?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“A funeral home in Seattle,” 51 answered.

I frowned. “You don’t mean…?”

51 nodded. “These two women delivered Karen’s body to the funeral home and ordered them to deliver her to the house.” 51 hesitated then added, “The staff at the funeral home, well, I think they were bewitched. They were very compliant with such an odd request. They didn’t even call the police.”

So, it wasn’t the Nuns that got to Chantelle and Lana; it was Lilith. I blinked as a dream I had a month ago flooded back into my mind. In the dream, I was holding two dolls in my hand, one blonde and one with raven-black hair. Then Lilith appeared and ripped the dolls out my grip. The pain was so intense, so real, I woke up.

“Crap,” I muttered. I never gave that dream much thought. At the time, I figured it was just a nightmare brought on by the unease I felt around Lilith. I stared at photos of Chantelle and Lana and vowed to save them from Lilith’s clutches.

“Find them and we’ll find Lilith,” I ordered 51.

“They are not to be harmed, either,” Mary added. “Lana and Chantelle are ours. That demon’s done something to them.”

“Yes, ma’am!” 51 saluted. “Chief Spencer of Seattle PD is on it. We’ll find the demon-bitch.”

* * *

Lilith – Seattle, Washington

I watched the Seyb ritual from the Shadow.

The very pregnant Lana led the ritual, her hand sliding the dildo in and out of her cunt. My monstrous child grew in her womb. Another child grew in her wife’s womb. Chantelle and Lana were both almost ready to give birth to the first of my new daughters. I smiled, estimating that tomorrow they would be born.

Just in time for me to welcome them in the flesh.

My Vessel sat in the middle of the coven’s circle, eyes lifeless, her body unmoving. She was a shell, a husk. Though born only days ago, the ritual had aged the empty Vessel to seventeen now. Long, silvery hair fell across her flat back and across her chest. Her breasts were just starting to bud and her hips were just starting to fill out. She aged to adulthood, but her body had not matured enough. It wouldn’t do.

I was the embodiment of womanhood, curvy and lush.

A woman with bright, red hair named Mona held my Vessel’s hands. She, too, was naked, one of the members of the coven who worshiped me. The rest of the coven sat in a circle around the pair, chanting meaningless prayers to me. Power was all about the trappings.

And I understood that so well. Let my worshipers think those prayers were important, that they were important. It would tie them to me.

Lana pumped the dildo in and out of her cunt, her head thrown back. When she orgasmed and uttered “Seyb” a year of Mona’s life would flow into my Vessel and age her. Seventeen willing women had already given a year of their lives to my Vessel, and once Mona gave hers, my Vessel would be mature enough to handle my soul.

Then I would escape the Abyss.

I was still savoring the grief and anger of Mark Glassner as he buried that slut, Karen. I watched from the Shadows this afternoon. I promised not to harm the little thing. And I did nothing to her. It was my Vessel who had killed her, who had sucked all the life force from her just to be born.

I just had to watch and wait and do nothing to hurt Mark.

And shortly, I would be free of the Abyss. Then I would increase Mark Glassner’s suffering tenfold, a hundredfold. He would curse the day he ever made his Pact, that Lucifer ever gave my gem to him. That bastard Mark had touched me.

Fucked me.

He would howl for that affront.

“Yes, yes!” Lana moaned as she fucked the dildo in and out of her cunt, juices glinting on the toy.

Her arms wrapped around her pregnant belly. Her breasts were large, nipples pierced with gold rings, and heaved with passion. I could smell her arousal bleeding into the Shadow. A tangy, tart musk that smelled so sweet.

Nothing smelled better than a woman’s lust.

The blue, plastic cock was almost a blur as Lana pumped it in and out of her hungry cunt with one hand while the other diddled her clit. Her back stiffened. I could hear the muscles in her pussy contract as she orgasmed.

“Oh my Goddess!” Lana screamed as her body went rigid. “Seyb!”

From the Shadows, I witnessed the energy flow out of Mona and into my Vessel. For Mona, nothing seemed to change. Aging one year at thirty-one produced very little difference. My Vessel, on the other hand, aged from seventeen to eighteen. She grew a few inches in height, her breasts swelled into apple-sized mounds. Her flat hips grew some curves, and a sparse down of silvery pubic hair sprouted about her mound.

Mona leaned in and kissed the Vessel on the lips. My Vessel just sat motionless. No will animated the body, yet. She was just a doll. A toy until I possessed it.

I shuddered. The Vessel had finally reached enough maturity to be inhabited, and I moved through the Shadows to it. I reached out, straining to touch my Vessel. It was so hard. I groaned, struggling, reaching. My fingers stretched out.

I was so close.

But chains held me back, tearing at my soul with cruel barbs. The bonds of my imprisonment, somehow they knew I was trying to escape. They wanted to drag me back down into the depths of the abyss.

“No!” I screamed. They dragged at my soul. “I’m too close! I will be free!”

And then my Vessel moved for the first time on its own. Its hand reached out towards mine, fingers stretching. I strained harder, pulling on the chains. My Vessel was empty, yearning to be filled, and it sensed the one thing that could fill it.

Me.

I struggled, fighting as hard as I could against my bonds. The pain was excruciating as a thousand barbs tore at my soul.

“I will escape! I will be free!”

I was so close. I growled, throwing myself away from the chains. The pain flared. Agony consumed me. Let it. I just had to reach a few more inches. I just had to close the gap and touch my vessel and—

My digits brushing the Vessel’s fingertips.

“Yes!”

Hope surged through me and then was dashed as the chains yanked me back.

“No! No! Just a little more! Just a little more and freedom was mine! Ignore the pain and take your freedom!”

I struggled against the pain. It grew worse and worse. They pulled against me, desperate to drag me back into the Abyss. Heaven had sentenced me to this torment, and their prison would not let me go without a fight.

“No!” I roared in defiance towards the Heavens. “No, I will have my freedom! I will not be contained by Your prison any longer!”

My fingers brushed my Vessel’s. Hope surged. One final try. My hand grasped my Vessel, and it heaved me out of the Abyss and into its body. My soul tore as the barbs ripped free. I was pain incarnate as I flowed into my new body, sinking into the warm flesh like water into a sponge, filling every fiber of its body.

Then the pain vanished.

I had a heart thudding in my chest, blood roaring through my veins again. I could feel the hardwood floor beneath me, the muggy air on my skin. I could only see a red darkness and panic sank into me.

Did something go wrong?

Then I laughed. The Vessel’s eyes must have closed as I entered it. It had been too long since I had a real body. I opened my eyes, the light stabbing them painfully. I forced myself not to wince. I was a Goddess, and Goddesses did not flinch. I flexed my fingers, licked my lips, inhaled deeply.

I had a body again. And it was wonderful.

I was free of the Abyss!

My worshipers stared at me in awe. I stood up, trying not to stumble. This form was smaller than I was used to. It had not yet reached its full maturity despite being eighteen. I slowly turned, gazing at all my followers. They were naked, all women, their eyes wide with lust, their nipples hard and the room reeked of their growing arousal. Spicy, sweet, tangy, tart, musky, sour. All the delicious flavors of womanhood.

Lana and Chantelle knelt before me with awkward grace, their large, pregnant bellies round before them. “My Goddess,” Chantelle breathed. “Your humble servants await your command.”

“Command us,” Lana moaned, blue eyes shining.

“Rise, my daughters,” I commanded, my voice high and girlish with youth. “You did well, I am very pleased with you.”

Lana and Chantelle looked up at me, exultant smiles on their lips. I bent and kissed first Lana and then Chantelle on their mouths. Both women fell to the floor as their orgasms exploded through their bodies. As the pregnant women writhed in pleasure, I scanned the room and found Babylon sitting next to her eighteen-year-old daughter, Crystal.

“You have the sacrifice?” I asked Babylon, the coven’s leader.

“Yes, my Goddess,” she breathed. “Lance, my ex-husband.” She licked her lips, a tinge of fear in her eyes. “He almost beat me to death once.”

“Fitting,” I smiled in pleasure. I hated men, especially those who thought they were better than women.

Like Mark Glassner.

I needed to finish growing and now that I was in control of the Vessel, there was a far more satisfying way to age myself another fifteen years, to reach the peak of my physical beauty and maturity. Four of the women dragged in the naked man. He was in his forties, fat and soft. His hands were tied with ropes behind his back. He thrashed like a beached whale in the grips of the four women.

“Fucking cunts!” Lance roared. “I’ll fuckin’ kill all of you. And fuckin’ rape all your lesbo cunts and smash your faces in! Fuckin’ let me go! And you, Clarissa, or Babylon, or whatever the fuck you call yourself these days, I’ll fuckin’ kill you last! You fuckin’ dyke! I’ll rape your dyke pussy, and I’ll kill you!”

“Oh, he is perfect,” I purred, feeling my pussy grow wet in anticipation of draining him dry. I was the first succubus, the mother of monsters. There was nothing more satisfying then feeding on a male.

He was thrown down onto the floor. The twenty or so women of the coven quickly bound him spread-eagle on the floor. Their numbers had swelled its ranks since my manifestation a month ago on the Summer Solstice. More than forty women followed me and more joined our ranks every day. We found them in the homeless missions, the abused women’s shelters, and walking the streets. Wherever a woman was beaten and oppressed by a man, a new worshiper was found.

I brushed the man with my foot, just the lightest touch and he shivered in pleasure, his cock hardening beneath his fat gut. I would drain the man dry, steal his life force to age my Vessel to ripe maturity. Every time he came inside me, I would steal more of his life. I stared at him with a predator’s hunger, licking my lips in anticipation.

“Free me, slut!” he snarled. “Let me go, and I’ll spare your fucking hide. I’ll give you a good fuckin’, too.”

“You want to stick your cock inside me?” I cooed. “You want to feel the velvet deliciousness of my cunt?”

“You bet I do, slut!” he grinned with false bravado. But I could smell the stink of fear on him. A man’s fear smelled almost as good as a woman’s arousal. “My cock’ll make you howl. Ya’ll fuckin’ love it!”

I straddled him and lined his cock at my hungry hole. I felt the head of his disgusting cock prodding at my pussy. I slammed my hips down, engulfing him in one swift thrust. The pain was intense as I broke through my hymen. His cock felt monstrously huge inside my virgin depths. I grit my teeth and ignored the pain, sliding up his shaft.

“Holy shit!” he groaned, and then I felt his disgusting seed spilling in me.

I aged a year, my breasts swelling as I grew more womanly curves, abandoning the girlish figure. I was a woman. The most beautiful woman. A Goddess.

I smiled in joy and slammed down his cock. Up and down, and he was cumming in me again, my breasts growing bigger. They were round and perky with youth, jiggling as I rode up and down on him. My bush was thick and silvery. I slid a hand across my hip and delighted in the curves. I moved my hands up to my breasts. I fingered my nipples. They were larger, my areolae growing wider as my body matured.

I rode him hard, and he moaned and groaned, cumming every few strokes. Soon my breasts had grown to their full majesty, round and heavy and yet still perky, not drooping or sagging. My hips had transformed into the pleasing curves of womanhood. I felt my face, tracing the familiar features. I had aged from the pretty innocence of a youth to the mature beauty of a woman. Twelve times Lance had cum in me, then thirteen. I threw my head back, my orgasm building within me, my hands enjoying the fullness of my breasts. I grew even closer to my pleasure as the fourteenth load spilled into me, my body sucking up his life-force.

I slammed down one last time, grinding my clit into his groin, and moaned my orgasm in a loud voice as he shot his fifteenth load of cum into me. His vibrant life-force poured into me as my pleasure rolled through my body. I threw back my head as the exquisite pleasure exploded through my body. Around me, every woman fell to the floor as my Lust washed through the room and triggered their own climaxes to ravage their bodies.

“Worship your Goddess!” I howled.

Feeling exhilarated, I stood up, the man’s vile cum rolling wetly down my thighs. I stretched, enjoying the way my full breasts swayed. I looked down on the disgusting creature and a malicious smile crossed my lips at his transformation. The man looked gaunt and old, his hair turned white, and wrinkles creased his face. He gasped for breath, his face turning purple.

“I hoped you liked it,” I purred.

“My heart,” Lance wheezed, clutching his chest. “Please, I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Oh, then let me help you,” I smiled down at him.

Hope flared in his eyes, but that quickly vanished as I crushed his throat beneath my foot.

To be continued…

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