---

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.

---

---

With the I Corp of the U.S. Army under his power, Brandon Fitzsimmons thrust himself onto the world stage. Blood and fire marked his reign.

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

Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA

I watched in stunned horror as the U.S. soldiers opened fire on the Tacoma Police blockading the street in front of the courthouse. The soldiers had just roped down out of a pair of hovering Black Hawk helicopters hovering above the crowds.

Their bullets tore into the police at either end of Tacoma Avenue, glass shattering, metal pinging, men falling to the ground. The cops scattered, caught off guard by the soldiers’ attack. They dived behind their cruisers or fell to the ground wounded by the machine gun fire.

My stomach clenched. The soldiers had ignored my commands to throw down their weapons.

A chill spread through me. They ignored my commands. I could see the black of their auras wreathed by the faintest red. They were Thralls under the protection of the Zimmah ritual, bound to another Warlock. They were immune to my powers. Exactly the same way we made our family and sluts immune to anyone else’s orders.

“Fuck!” I groaned. This was very bad

My first thought was Brandon Fitzsimmons. But how could he bind his Thralls with the Zimmah ritual? His mother was dead. He couldn’t violate her body, cumming in her pussy and having the Thrall drink the combined seed, to bind them. So who was attacking me?

And what could I do about it if I couldn’t dominate the soldiers?

A whirring sound, like a motor revving up, built then exploded into a terrific roar. A gout of flame erupted from the side of one of the hovering Black Hawks. The mini-gun fired. I watched in horror as its bullets ripped through the police cruisers. A second whirring sound built, and the other helicopter opened fire on the opposite police blockade. Golden tracers streaked down, raining death on the Tacoma police officers.

“Sir, let’s go!” 51 shouted, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the courthouse.

The crowd in front of the courthouse screamed in panic and ran for cover. My bodyguards formed a protective circle around me, dragging me back into the courthouse. The Mayor of Tacoma stood frozen in mid-fuck, his cock buried into his wife’s asshole. I had just finished fucking Yoon before stepping outside to speak. Everything was just so normal and now…

My mind did not want to work.

“My Lord?” the Mayor asked as he pulled out of his wife.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Master?” cried Violet as she and Desiree were pulled into the bodyguard’s circle of protection. They were the only sluts I brought to the event and were waiting inside the courthouse while I spoke. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I said, struggling to think as I put my arm around the slender eighteen-year-old girl.

Desiree looked so pale, the nut-brown hue vanished from her skin. Her naked tits bounced, streaked in strands of my dried cum as the bodyguard herded us through the courthouse. She walked stiffly, trembling.

I struggled to think but panic froze my thoughts. Soldiers bound to my enemy were attacking me.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. I was not prepared for this.

“Where are we going?” I asked, finally gathering some of my wits.

“The back of the courthouse, exiting onto Yakima Avenue,” 51 answered. How did she sound so calm? Her ebony face was a mask of stillness, her eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses. She didn’t even have her weapon drawn, unlike the other members of the guard marching around us. “We parked the limo and our patrol cars back there, remember?”

“Right,” I nodded.

We raced through the courthouse, and I struggled to think despite the adrenaline that pounded through my veins. We were under attack by US Soldiers. That meant the army base south of here was… My heart froze. What if they could be coming for Mary?

No ifs. They would be coming for Mary.

“51, Fallen Eagle!”

51 glanced at me, nodded, and pulled out her Nextel. They were similar to radios but worked over the cell phone network. All of our bodyguards had one. “51 to all units, Fallen Eagle. I repeat, Fallen Eagle.”

Fallen Eagle. The code phrase for the worst case scenario—an all out assault by our enemies. Whether Lilith or the nuns or some new threat. Like today. Ever since the Nuns attacked us three months ago with the SWAT officers, I had been preparing for another attempt by Heaven to stop me. The bodyguards had their instructions to get everyone—our families, our servants, and our sluts—they could to safety. In Kansas, I had a bolthole prepared, a place where we could regroup and figure out how to face any new threat.

“47, copy Fallen Eagle.” 47, second-in-command of the bodyguard, was with Mary back at the house. She would get my wife to safety.

Squad D reported in with Shannon and George in Chicago. Squads E and F, guarding our planes, also responded. Now we just had to move quickly. If we did, we might just be able to escape and figure out how to deal with this new, overwhelming force.

We climbed stairs and then rounded a corner in the courthouse onto a long, straight hallway. Through a glass door, I spotted the limo idling outside. The passenger door was open, and Leah, my chauffeur, waited nervously, looking up at the sky. The bodyguards pushed us along. Violet sobbed as she clung to me. I held my slut tight, wanting to protect her.

“Hurry!” Leah shouted as we burst outside, beckoning urgently with her arm.

The moment we stepped outside, sounds crashed into my ears. I could hear sirens roaring from every direction, echoing down the streets. 51 wore a police radio patched into Tacoma PD’s network, and the frantic calls for help came from police officers completely outmatched by the soldiers. The roar of helicopters and gunshots echoed through the streets. Shadows passed overhead. More Black Hawks escorted by smaller helicopters, dark against the blue sky, soared over.

“Holy shit!” I gasped. “It’s a fucking invasion? Holy fucking shit!”

I pushed the crying Violet into the limo, then grabbed the wild-eyed Desiree and hauled her in, her big tits flopping. I jumped in next, landing on Desiree’s lap. I rolled over her, sitting in between my two sluts. Violet clung to me as 51 jumped in. Leah ran around and hopped into the driver seat. With an AR-15 assault rifle clutched in her hand, 09 jumped into the passenger seat, while 32, also armed with an AR-15, piled in the back with us. She slammed shut the heavy, armored door.

What’s going on, Mark? Mary’s thought practically shouted in my mind.

In my panic, I forgot I could communicate directly with my wife. Soldiers attacked the rally, I sent back, trying to keep my terror out of my sending. I’m okay. We’re in the limo and driving off. The soldiers are Thralls protected with the Zimmah spell!

Oh, my god!

The limo peeled away from the curb, the powerful engine growling. Leah followed two cop cars driven by my bodyguards, their lights flashing, sirens flaring. Two more squad cars followed. I looked out the windows of the limo. They were all thick, the limo armored with the best money could buy.

“We’re safe, right, Master?” Violet sobbed.

I held her tight against my chest and kissed her brow. I didn’t know what to say. Our limo was as close to being a tank as possible. And I didn’t feel safe at all.

The lead cop cars took the left at 9th Street, our limo following. We headed up to the top of the hill that dominated downtown Tacoma and away from the firefight at the courthouse. Relief washed through me as I stared through the rear window. I could see the soldiers at the intersection of 9th and Tacoma Ave, occupying the ruins of the police blockade. None followed us.

“I think we’re clear,” I told Violet. I glanced at Desiree, giving her a tight smile.

She nodded back, hands to her naked chest.

51 didn’t say anything as she listened to both the chatter from the Nextels and her police radio.

* * *

Mary Glassner – South Hill, WA

I gasped as 47 hauled me off my mother, my heart hammering, Mark’s words echoing in my mind. Under attack. Fallen Eagle. That was the code used if something really, really bad had happened. Only Mark or I could give that command. Fear clutched my stomach as 47 dragged me from the bed. Two more bodyguards moved through the room, one grabbing my stunned mother.

“What’s happening?” my mom asked, her face so pale.

“An attack. I don’t know.” I gasped, my head turning to the dresser. Fallen Eagle meant we were abandoning our home. “Wait!”

“We need to go, ma’am!” 47 insisted as I tugged at her arm.

“My locket!” I cried. We might never come back. I couldn’t leave without my locket. Mark gave it to me the day we met. Next to the wedding ring on my finger, it was the most important thing I owned. “Please!”

I jerked hard, pulling out of her grip. The bodyguard were commanded to ignore Mark’s or my orders to protect us. Mark wanted to be sure that they, trained cops, would make the decisions in case we panicked.

And I was panicked right now.

I reached the dresser and opened my jewelry box, pulling out the silver heart with the pink rose sculpted on the front. I quickly pulled it over my head to let it dangle between my breasts along with my protection amulet. Then I let 47 drag me out of the room.

My heart hammered in fear as I digested my communication from Mark. What could we do against Thralls when we couldn’t use our mind control powers on them? And he said soldiers. God, that was like the SWAT attack last June on steroids.

We raced out of the house and the street bustled with activity. Some of the bodyguards were standing guard, AR-15s in their hands, while the rest were herding our family and servants out of their houses and piling them into the fleet of black SUV’s we owned. One of the SUVs waited in the driveway, engine already running. I jumped in along with my mom. Lillian, Xiu, and Korina piled into our SUV and the rest of our sluts piled into a second vehicle behind it.

“Mistress!” Lillian said, her face even paler than usual.

“We’ll be fine,” I gasped, embracing my mother. “We’ll be fine. The bodyguard trained for this.”

“What’s going on?” Tears fell down Korina’s doll-like face.

I tried to speak, but only sobs escaped. Mark was in danger. Soldiers were after him. The tears fell down my face. I was so scared. We were all connected to Mark. I wished to live as long as he had, thinking his wish for a long life would ensure I had one, too. But would that wish save him from a soldier’s bullet?

“It’s going to be okay,” Mom whispered, stroking my hair just like she did when I was a little girl. “Just okay.”

I nodded my head.

In just a few minutes, everyone who lived in the neighborhood—our sluts, our families, and our important servants like Sam and our accountants—were loaded into the SUV’s. With a roar, we were off. The plan was to drive north to Boeing Field in Seattle. Our Gulfstream was too well known. Any enemy attacking us was sure to try and seize it or stop us from reaching it at the nearby airfield in South Hill. Julius Prescott III, a billionaire we knew, owned a freight airline known as Air-Cargo. We had arranged for a hangar of his at Boeing Field to be set aside to house a 747 airplane. Hopefully, our enemy did not know about this plane.

In five minutes, we were clear of our neighborhood, driving north at breakneck speed. I could hear all sorts of chatter on 47’s police radio and on the Nextel.

“What’s going on?” I asked 47, regaining my composure after my mother’s soothing words.

“The police have just issued a tactical alert,” 47 answered. “There are reports of US soldiers setting up roadblocks around Tacoma, and a convoy of Strykers is rolling up 512 towards South Hill. They’re running cars off the road, Ma’am.”

“Strykers? Those are armored tanks, right?” I asked in fear.

“Armored personnel carriers, Ma’am,” 47 corrected. “Not as heavily armored as a tank, but just as dangerous. Squad E has abandoned the Gulfstream. They saw several Black Hawks flying towards Thun Field.”

“Please let them not know about our other plane,” I prayed, though I had no idea to whom. “Please!”

* * *

Brandon Fitzsimmons

“My Lord Fitzsimmons, we’ve taken the courthouse,” Colonel Abbey said.

Though he was sitting right next to me, the only reason I could hear him over the roar of the helicopter’s rotor was through the chopper’s internal intercom. I was wearing an uncomfortable helmet with headphones over my ears that blocked most of the Black Hawk’s rotor noise. We were in the Command Information Center, or CIC, Black Hawk, hovering high over Tacoma. Colonel Abbey was the G3, or operations officer, for I Corp and coordinating the occupation of Tacoma.

“Do you have Mark?” I demanded.

I could almost taste my victory. Mark Glassner would soon be mine along with his wife, Mary. I would make her my concubine and force the bastard to watch as his lovely wife became my whore. It was what he deserved for stealing my beautiful Desiree.

I looked down at Tacoma, surveying my conquest. The Army Rangers who had fast-roped into Tacoma were surrounding the courthouse as the Stryker Brigade barreled down the freeway to secure the city. The main part of Tacoma was built on a peninsula that jutted out into Puget Sound. There were about a dozen roads that crossed the Nalley Valley separating the peninsula from the mainland. If those streets were blockaded, the city would be cut in half and trap anyone on the peninsula, including Mark if he managed to escape the courthouse.

“My Lord, Chalk 2 reports a limo heading west on 9th Street with a police escort,” Colonel Abbey reported after a minute. If I remembered the briefing correctly, a chalk was a group of rangers deployed out of the same helicopter. Chalk 2 was tasked with taking the intersection of 9th Street and Tacoma Avenue.

“Damn it,” I snarled. “I want that limo stopped and everyone inside captured.”

“Absolutely, my Lord,” Colonel Abbey replied. “Bandit 1 and Bandit 3, do you have eyes on a limo heading west from the courthouse on 9th Street?” I couldn’t hear the reply. I was only listening to the helicopter’s internal comms, not the battle comms. Colonel Abbey nodded. “Disable the vehicle and provide support. Raider 3, head west and drop your chalk on that vehicle.”

Bandits were the Little Birds, small, agile helicopters armed with mini-guns that were quite deadly in urban operations. Raiders were the Black Hawks carrying a chalk of Rangers. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance.

A triumphant smile crossed my lips.

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!