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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 5.

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Through dark magic and blood, Lilith was birthed again into our world. The Mother of Monsters, the Black Moon. Her womb a pit of obscenities, her seed as black at pitch. In Seattle, she founded her dark domain.

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

Sunday, September 22nd, 2013 – Mark Glassner – Seattle, WA

“Tonight, we are joined by Mark and Mary Glassner,” Debra Horne-Dannell introduced, staring into one of the cameras. We sat in the studio of Q13 Fox for a live broadcast. In the three months since the miracle, Mary and I had given many interviews, spreading our word to the world. More and more people across the country worshiped us, were under our power.

We would change the world. We would make it better, safer. Our powers could be used for good as well as to satisfy our own pleasure.

Debra beamed at us as she sat across from us. She had almost been fired from Q13 for proclaiming me a God during a live broadcast and posting the entirety of the firefight at our house and my subsequent healing on YouTube. Dubbed “The Miracle,” her video had gone viral and propelled Mary and me into the international spotlight. When Jessica, my reporter-slut turned press secretary, told me about Debra’s job troubles, I pulled some strings

Now she was the co-anchor for the local news. Having loyal followers in the media was always a good thing.

Debra had an awed look in her eyes as she stared at Mary and me. “We are honored to have you here tonight, my Lord and Lady.”

“It is always a pleasure to see you, Debra,” Mary answered warmly, a smile on my lips. We had both enjoyed Debra more than a few times. I could still remember the first time she sucked my cock as I gave my first ever press conference.

“Thank you for having us,” I smiled. “Such a delight to be with you in studio again.”

Debra blushed, a hungry look in her eyes. She shuddered, no doubt relieving all the times she had submitted to us. “It’s my pleasure, my Lord. All my pleasure.” She looked to the camera. “They are amazing lovers.”

Mary smiled. “You are so kind, Debra.”

The woman shuddered and regained her composure, putting on a serious, interview face. “Mark and Mary, you are here tonight to promote a gun-buyback program you are sponsoring in Tacoma this Saturday, correct?”

I nodded. “It’s a great opportunity to get some guns off the street. After the attack on my home and the loss of seven women close to me, I know from experience just how dangerous guns in the wrong hands can be.”

Mary smiled. “Our country is awash in guns. It may have made sense to have an armed population two hundred years ago. But, the Founding Fathers could never have anticipated just how deadly guns would become.”

Debra nodded in agreement, interjecting, “It has become quite an epidemic in this country.”

“Exactly,” I said, turning to face the camera. We were live on air. Mary and I always insisted on doing interviews live so our commands could actually affect people. Our powers didn’t work if recorded for some reason. Sam had tried to explain it, but it was so esoteric it made my head ache. “I want everyone out there watching us tonight who isn’t a law enforcement officer or in the military to bring their guns to the Courthouse in Tacoma on Saturday. Local businesses have graciously donated hundred dollar gift cards to anyone who turns in their guns. It starts at 10 AM and will go all day.”

The greatest threat to the safety of Mary, our sluts, our families, our bodyguards, and myself were someone with a gun. The more guns we removed from people not under my power, the safer we would be. Even with the amulets Sam invented, they were still a danger to us.

Sam, our former sex slave turned Vizier, had delved into the knowledge of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor and applied them in new ways. She modified a charm that could be placed on amulets to deflect arrows and, after many tries, got them to work on bullets. Since Karen’s death, I had decided that everyone—the sluts, our bodyguards, and our family members—would wear these bronze amulets. One hung around my neck and another nestled in Mary’s cleavage. They created a field that could deflect bullets, but they weren’t perfect. A powerful enough gun could still penetrate the field, and automatic fire could overwhelm the amulet pretty fast.

“Well, I can’t wait to see the turnout,” Debra smiled, then glanced at Mary. “Now rumor has it that you’re pregnant.”

Mary’s smile grew broad, joyful. She reached over and gripped my hand. “I am. Almost eight weeks. We found out a week after the wedding.”

In the midst of grieving for poor Karen.

Debra clapped her hands. “I am so happy for you, my Lady.”

I glanced at my wife, squeezed her hand. I was happy too. The first two months of our marriage had been mostly quiet. Except Brandon Fitzsimmons and Lilith were out there, somewhere. We had found no trace of where Lana and Chantelle vanished to after dropping off Karen’s body. The Seattle PD assured me that they were searching for her. Chief Spencer himself gave me weekly updates, not that they had much results.

The interview wrapped up, and we walked to the elevators, surrounded by our bodyguards. The moment the door closed, 51 opened an envelop. “We just had a report from the FBI.”

“Another strange happening out in the Midwest?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

Weird things were happening in the Midwest. I feared Brandon had managed to get his own copy of the Magics of the Witch of Endor. And with those powers, he could elude authorities and do whatever he wanted. For the last few months, there were many reports of women disappearing after their boyfriends or husbands committed suicide. Some of the women would show up alive, confused about what happened to them, while others were found badly beaten or dead. A few hadn’t been seen at all.

A man, fitting Brandon’s description, was often seen around these incidents.

“What is it?” Mary asked.

“Brandon’s brother and the FBI Agents watching his house were found dead this afternoon in Idaho,” 51 reported, the Black woman’s forehead furrowing as she read. “All from apparent self-inflicted gunshots.”

“Brandon,” I groaned. “So he’s done playing in the Midwest.”

“Great,” Mary sighed, shaking her head. “And why would he kill his brother?”

“He likes killing,” I shrugged. “And I bet he and his brother have bad blood between them.”

I kept hoping a Nun would show up and deal with him. They couldn’t leave me alone for a week. Was it too much to hope that one would show up and deal with Brandon? According to Tiffany, a few nuns were still out there. Though none were left in North America. So it was looking like Mary and I would have to deal with him personally.

After the gun-buyback in Tacoma, I would have to make the time—there never seemed to be enough of it. He wouldn’t be hard to defeat. His mother was dead, so he couldn’t bind anyone with the Zimmah ritual. I would just order his Thralls not to fight and our conflicting orders would freeze them in place. Then it would be child’s play for our bodyguards to take him.

Brandon wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Lilith was.

It had been two months since Karen died, and there was still no sign of Chantelle and Lana. Their images were on wanted posters, ran nightly on the news, and no one had come forward with any reliable information on them. They were the only lead we had on tracking Lilith’s child down. Lilith lurked in the Shadows of the Abyss, plotting against us. I brooded on that thought as we rode the elevator down to the parking garage.

Squad A guarded us tonight. They were a mix of the old bodyguards who survived the attack and volunteers. The first two classes had finished their Police training, adding fifteen new members to the guard. These were women who agreed to be our slaves, to serve and protect their Gods. Four other women had also joined the bodyguards, cops who quit their jobs and traveled across the country to serve us. As soon as we had enough volunteers, we would free the original bodyguards who we forced to protect us. We would let them choose to stay or be free, just like we had with the sluts. With Lilith and Brandon out there, we needed to keep them just a little longer.

“What is he up to?” Mary whispered, shifting.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. It seemed the more power we gained, the stronger our enemies became. It was perverse.

“And if he does something, Mark?”

“That’s why we’ve made plans.” I smiled at her. “We’re not getting caught with our pants down. Brandon would need an army to challenge us. When we find him, we’ll take care of him.”

Mary smiled at me and nodded.

The elevator dinged onto the parking garage. Leah waited for us at the limo, looking sexy in her white corset and short, black skirt. The limo was new, having just arrived a week ago. It was armored, the doors heavy with Kevlar plates and windows made of six inches of bullet-resistant glass. It was a beast, practically a tank.

“My Lord, my Lady,” Leah purred, opening the door.

Mary nodded and slid in first. I followed. Jessica came in last. She sat opposite us inside the limo as Mary snuggled up to me and I kissed her on the lips. My dick throbbed as I felt her lips. She was such a sexy woman. The bodyguards climbed in, their tits almost falling out of their blouses, their legs so long and sexy.

My dick throbbed hard.

Mary, knowing me so well, brushed my crotch. She broke the kiss and grinned. “Horny stallion,” she fondly said then yawned. “Jessica, attend to my husband.”

“Absolutely, Mistress,” Jessica smiled.

Mary laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. She had a little less energy these days because of the pregnancy. And it was getting late. I stroked her cheek, and she smiled softly as Jessica knelt before me. Our slut wore a transparent blouse that showed her beautiful, caramel breasts and dark nipples through the sheer fabric. She knelt down before me as the limo accelerated smoothly. The slut unzipped my pants and sucked my cock into her lips.

“Thank you, Mare,” I whispered. “You’re the best wife.”

“I know,” she murmured, sleepily.

* * *

Monday, September 23nd, 2013 – Brandon Fitzsimmons – Joint Base Lewis-McChord, WA

I moaned as Ashley settled her cunt down on my hard cock in the back of my limo as it approached the main gate of the combined Army and Air Force Base located just south of Tacoma. The blonde teen, the first of my concubines, threw back her head and let out a wanton moan. “Oh, Brandon! Your cock feels so amazing!”

“Lucky girl,” pouted the auburn-haired Sherri as she lay entwined with her twin sister, Terri, on the opposite seat. Their identical, freckled tits pressed together as Terri pulled her sister’s face in for a hot kiss.

I smiled, watching the sisters kiss, Sherri’s ass flexing as she ground her pussy into her twin’s. They were my second and third concubines. I found them in the parking lot of a Motel Six a month ago. Terri’s boyfriend had objected when he found me kissing his girl and took a swing at my face. He almost hit me before I froze his muscles with a command. I had Terri execute him for daring to strike at a God. He had blubbered so pathetically as his girlfriend took my gun, put it to his head, and killed him.

I had to keep the twins. They had green eyes, freckled faces, and pouty lips. With their auburn hair, they almost looked like Mary. When I fucked them, I could almost pretend that they were Mark’s wife. I couldn’t wait to claim her as mine before the bastard. To make her love my cock more than his and watch the pain in his face as his wife cums on my cock and begs me for more. Mary would make a fine concubine once I flushed Mark’s child out of her belly.

I smiled, I couldn’t wait to have them in my power.

I would have my wife, Desiree, back, too, adding her to my growing harem. There were another four ladies waiting back at the hotel, and Victoire, of course. She was driving the limo, her hazel eyes glancing enviously at Ashley in the rear view mirror. She was a French model I found at O’Hare International. She was on a layover, and I made her mine in the airport lounge.

After making my Pact, I was… sidetracked. There were just so many beautiful women that were begging to be fucked. I kept the most pleasing women as my concubines, and disposed of the rest. Before I realized it, almost two months had passed, and I had not gotten one step closer to my revenge.

But that was about to change.

There was a rap on the window. An MP guarding the Main Gate of JBLM stood there, peering into the tinted windows. I signaled Victoire to roll the windows down. Ashley kept riding my cock. She knew better than to stop. I hadn’t had to chastise her in weeks, and all her bruises had faded.

“What the fuck?” the MP gasped.

“I am your God,” I commanded. “Escort me to the commanding officer of the post.”

“Yes, sir!” the MP saluted, shock replaced by worship. It was so fucking easy.

I had to give more orders, of course. The sergeant in charge of the gate had to be brought in line, but in a few minutes, I had an MP escort to Lieutenant General Arthur Brooks, commanding officer of I Corps and Joint Base Lewis-McChord.

Ashley pumped her hips atop me as we drove through the base, moaning her pleasure. I stared out the window at all the soldiers we passed. The start of my army. On Saturday, I would have Mark crawling on his belly before me. Just five more days and the world would know who I am

They would tremble before my Majesty.

For I was their rightful God. The Great and Powerful Brandon!

I closed my eyes, pictured Mark Glassner kneeling in defeat before me, the false God cast down by the True, and came in Ashley’s sweet cunt.

* * *

Wednesday, September 25th, 213 – Fiona Cavanagh – Seattle, WA

“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor,” Nate Kirkpatrick said, knocking on the heavy, oak door of the Mayor of Seattle’s office. I shivered, so excited to be here in City Hall.

“Oh, come in, Nate,” the Mayor answered.

I followed Nate in. He was a big, burly man with brown hair that was quickly balding. He was the Manager of Human Resources at City hall. I say was, because my daughter killed him last night and then took on his appearance. Pride for my daughter surged through me. Ziki was only a few days old, and she had already accomplished so much for Lilith. She was a Mazikeen, a creature who could assume any person’s form she pleased.

“This is your new assistant,” Nate said, motioning to me. “Fiona Cavanagh.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mayor,” I lied.

The Mayor, a fairly fit man for someone in his early sixties, reached out and shook my hand. He was tall, his hair obviously dyed-black to hide the gray, and he had a firm handshake. His desk was neat: a computer, a pen cup, and a photo of the Mayor and his husband at their civil wedding were the only items resting on the dark wood.

“You can call me Craig or Mayor Erikson,” he said with a smile, shaking my hand.

“I’m sorry to hear about the passing of your previous assistant,” I said. His name was Shaun. Tir, Thamina’s daughter by Lilith, had infected him with a nasty, and lethal, disease, opening a position on the Mayor’s staff.

Grief clouded the Mayor’s face. “Yeah, he was a special young man.”

“Well, I’ll go get setup at my desk.” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “If that’s okay, Craig?”

“Oh, of course,” Mayor Erikson said.

Once his door was closed, I whispered to my daughter, “You did good, Ziki.”

A loving look appeared on the face my daughter wore, recognizable to me through the fat man’s face she wore. I stroked her stubbled cheek. She shivered and said, “Well, Mother, I have other hires to make.”

I nodded and sat down at the desk. Slowly, Seattle would be Lilith’s. A few minutes later, Lamia walked in. She was Chantelle’s daughter by Lilith. I picked up the phone and dialed the Mayor’s extension. “Your 10:45 is here, sir.”

“I don’t see an appointment on my schedule?” the Mayor objected.

“Maybe Shaun didn’t get a chance to update your schedule, sir.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighed, his voice thick with grief. He cleared his throat. “Okay, send him in.”

“Her, sir. A Miss Lamia. She has something very important to show you.”

Lamia smiled naughtily at me, her purple hair framing her lush face. She walked to the door, and I couldn’t help watching her tight ass sway beneath the short skirt of her dress. She could make any one man into her devoted sex slave, even a gay man like the Mayor. She just needed a few hours to imprint him. I just had to keep visitors away until then.

I heard a low moan and Lamia’s throaty laugh through the door. I smiled and picked up the phone on my desk, dialing 9 then my wife’s number. “Mina, my first day is going perfectly.”

To be continued…

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