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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 4.

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With grace and courage, our Living Goddess placed herself in the hands of the False God. To save the world, she had to surrender to his lust. Only then could she defeat his evil. But great danger circled her, for Brandon had violated all natural laws. He had summoned a Demon.

—The Second Book of Vivian 2:37-39

Monday, September 30th, 2013 – Mary Glassner – Seattle, WA

“Everyone, take your seats. We’re beginning our approach,” Joslyn’s voice crackled over the 747’s PA. “We’ll be on the ground by 12:17 PM.”

I swallowed and hoped she would be careful. I used the Cathar prayer to cloak the plane with invisibility. The US airspace was still closed by Brandon’s command, and it was tense as we flew across the country. But, apparently, we did not even show up on radar. Still, I was terrified that a patrolling military jet would blunder into us.

We’re landing, Mark, I sent. Just hold on a little longer!

Hurry, Mare! There was so much pain and misery in his sending, I had to bite my lip to keep from being overwhelmed. He was on his third straight day of beatings. He couldn’t last much longer.

I gripped the armrest as we descended lower and lower, my heart hammering in my chest with a sudden rush of nerves. We were invisible; no one could see us landing. “Please, please let no one drive out onto the runway.”

I looked out the window and watched as the ground rushed up at us. The flaps extended, the airplane slowing. And then came the jarring impact of landing and the sudden, roaring deceleration as we touched down at Boeing Field in southern Seattle.

Mark and I had a private hangar at Boeing Field, and Joslyn and Lynda maneuvered our plane safely towards it. No one was about the airport, luckily, the no-fly zone still in effect. The hangar belonged to Cargo-Air, owned by a billionaire we knew. Brandon shouldn’t know about this.

Hopefully.

I glanced out the porthole window and didn’t see any soldiers guarding the airport or guarding our hanger. Our maintenance crews were waiting, opening the huge doors. They were all worshipers who had volunteered to be bound to Mark with the Zimmah spell. I could see them staring around apprehensively. They could hear the plane’s engines, but not see it.

Once we were safely in the hangar, and the doors closed, I released the prayer. Energy rippled out of me. I couldn’t hear the gasps of the ground crew over the turning engines, but I could see their reaction as they flinched at the appearance of the massive plane.

A stair truck maneuvered to the side of the airplane, and I walked down it to an awaiting SUV, left here from our evacuation on Saturday. I climbed into the black Suburban alone. I wasn’t going to let any more of my followers get captured. If the plan worked, Brandon’s power would be broken. If it failed, it wouldn’t matter how many bodyguards I took. We were hopelessly outnumbered by the US Military.

“Good luck, Ma’am,” 47, the second-in-command of the bodyguards, said.

I pulled off my silver locket and my wedding band and handed them to her through the rolled-down window. The only thing I wore was my bronze amulet that protected me from bullets. “Keep these safe for me.” I fought back tears as I handed over my two most prized possessions. If this went badly, I didn’t want Brandon to get his hands on them. “Please.”

“Absolutely,” she answered. Then she ducked through the open window of the SUV and kissed me on the lips. “For luck.”

My bodyguards and other servants all watched me depart in silence. I used a keycard to get out of the airport and headed south on I-5. There was almost no traffic. It was noon on a Monday, and the freeway was disturbingly deserted. I sped south. and in thirty minutes, I was driving through the City of Fife, approaching Tacoma.

I tensed, my heart racing as I stared at the city ahead. I could see the peninsula Tacoma rested upon, St. Jo Hospital at the top of the hill, skyscrapers at the base. Orange cranes rose at the Port of Tacoma between me and the city. I looked for the courthouse which lay about halfway up the hill as I stared across Commencement Bay, but I couldn’t pick it out. It was either hidden by a skyscraper or I wasn’t looking in the right spot.

The freeway drove past Commencement Bay and the Port of Tacoma, leaving behind Fife. I slowed, spotting a roadblock set up at the Port of Tacoma exit. Three Humvees and a tank-like Stryker blocked the highway. There were a dozen soldiers in desert camo manning a barbwire barricade standing in front of the vehicles. Two large machine guns on tripods anchored the barricade on either side, pointing right at my SUV.

I slowed to a stop fifty feet away. I could see their auras, black fringed with red—Thralls immune to my power. Taking a deep breath, I turned off the SUV as the soldiers approached with their weapons pointed at me, barking loud commands.

I trembled so badly. This would work. It had to. I would save Mark.

“Get out of the car!” the soldiers roared again.

Cautiously, I opened my driver-side door and stepped out, my hands held over my head. The soldiers leered at my naked body, but I held my head up proudly, staring boldly at the soldiers as they rushed at me.

“I am Mary Glassner. Take me to… the God.” I almost messed up and called him Brandon. I took a deep breath, then, pretending to be under Brandon’s powers, cooed, “I’m ready to be his concubine.”

The sergeant commanding the roadblock, older than the fresh-faced soldiers, grabbed my arm and marched me to a Humvee. He placed me in the back, then he and another soldier hopped in, started the vehicle, and turned it around. In moments, they drove me towards Tacoma.

I’m almost there, Mark, I sent, trying to keep my fear out of the thoughts as we passed the Tacoma Dome and neared downtown.

All I got back was a feeling of pain. I tried to keep the panic out of my heart. Please be okay, Mark!

Only pain.

It took five or so minutes to reach the courthouse. I stared out at the chaos before the courthouse. Blood still stained the bricks, and shell casings lay everywhere. Wreckage of Tacoma PD cop cars had been pushed onto the sidewalks. I shuddered as the Humvee pulled up to the curb.

But instead of taking me inside the courthouse, they took me to the County Jail next door. My heart hammered in fear. Did something go wrong? Why weren’t they taking me to Brandon? According to the news, the Pierce County Superior Courthouse was his headquarters.

I tried to appear calm as they walked me into the jail. I was a Thrall. One of Brandon’s. I had to act like it. I put on a smile. “You’re taking me to our God?”

“Yeah,” the soldier grunted.

“Good, I am so eager to be his concubine. To be taken by him.”

“I bet you are, slut,” he laughed.

The jail’s first security gate had been blown open. Bullet casings littered the floor and blood stained the walls. The soldiers led me deeper. We had to be buzzed through more security gates that were still intact. I was unnerved to see all the jail cells empty. What had happened to the inmates? The last security gate we passed through opened onto the exercise yard at the center of the jail.

A mass of women huddled in the middle of the yard. They looked numb with terror. I scanned their faces, hoping to recognize any of the bodyguards, or Violet and Leah. I thought I saw Leah, our chauffeur, huddled with 51 and 27. I didn’t see any of the other bodyguards or Violet. 51 glanced at me, despair flickering across her ebony face.

That chilled my heart. 51 was so strong, and she looked so broken.

At the other end of the yard, Brandon sat on a raised chair, something mimicking a throne but without any real grandeur. He was surrounded by a group of naked women who fawned over him. I knew from watching the news that Desiree was one of them. I looked for her and spotted her kneeling on Brandon’s right. She appeared a willing servant of his, a smile on her face. I wasn’t sure how that was possible.

Did Brandon find a way to break the Zimmah bond? Or did he just break her?

Then my eyes fell on Mark manacled hand and foot to a post to my right, his body sprawled on the concrete in view of Brandon’s throne. It was hard not to flinch at the sight of him. I almost didn’t recognize my husband. His entire body was a bruise, mottled from head to foot with dark purples that faded to browns and sickly yellows. His face was swollen, and he bled from numerous cuts on his brow. One of his blue eyes found mine, the other swollen shut.

My heart broke. I fought off my tears. Now was not the time. I needed to be strong.

The soldiers pushed their way through the women huddled in the center, leading me to Brandon. He had grown younger and fitter since he had captured Mark, no longer balding and overweight. How had he done that? Had he made a second Pact with the Devil? Brandon called it a miracle when he allowed himself to be interviewed last night, more proof of his Divinity.

But that wasn’t possible. You could only sell your soul once.

No, he must have made a Pact with another demon. The Magicks of the Witch of Endor had rituals to summon other demons, to make other bargains, many of them foul and dangerous.

“Ah, Mary Glassner, you have finally succumbed to my charms,” Brandon smiled, his voice sounding suave and magnanimous.

“How could I not?” I asked, trying to sound as enchanted with him as possible. He needed to believe I was under his power. “You are a God, and I am helpless before your masculinity. I love you! Let me be your concubine!”

I felt his gaze roam my naked body as I knelt before him. My flesh felt soiled as I let the pig’s eyes feast on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mark and drew strength from him. I could endure this humiliation. I could endure anything to save him.

He had endured far more.

I love you. I fiercely sent to my husband. Be strong!

He stirred.

Brandon stood up, unbuckling his pants. His cock was hard, the tip an angry red. “Show me just how much you love me!”

I could endure anything for Mark.

I crawled to Brandon, trying not to wince as my knees scraped on the concrete. Mark had experienced far more pain in the last three days. I could endure a scraped knee. I reached the pig, his cock waving in front of me. His dick was almost as long as Mark’s, but lacked my husband’s girth. I grasped it with one hand, slowly stroking it, suppressing a disgusted shudder.

“I would love to feel your cock inside my naughty pussy,” I purred.

Brandon laughed, “Your wife is quite the slut, eh, Mark? It’s not surprising. She’s finally seen a real cock. Why don’t you suck me off first, whore. Make me cum while your husband watches. Cuckold him, slut.”

“Gladly,” I lied then opened my mouth and sucked his cock into my lips. I would give him the best blowjob I could. The faster he came, the faster I could exorcise him.

I sucked and bobbed, swirling my tongue about his cock, moaning with all my faked enthusiasm. I had never felt lower, never felt filthier, than right now. But I had to make him believe I was his slave. So I moaned. So I stared up at him with adoration like I would for Mark when I sucked his dick.

After a moment, Brandon pulled his dick out of my mouth, asking, “Whose cock is bigger?”

“Yours, my Lord!” I cooed. “I can’t wait to feel it in my naughty cunt! I’ll cum so hard on it.”

“You will, slut,” he laughed as he shoved his cock roughly back into my mouth.

I swirled my tongue around his cock, before sliding my lips all the way down his shaft. I relaxed my esophagus and deep-throated him, my hands gently cupping his balls. It took all my self-control not to bite down on his cock and crush his nuts between my fingers. I slid my mouth back up, sucking hard, then bobbed a few times, rubbing his cock against the inside of my cheeks.

“Fuck, she’s a pro at sucking cock!” Brandon moaned. “I hope you’re watching your beautiful wife be my whore, Mark!”

Mark’s chains rattled, straining. He’ll pay for every word once he’s exorcised! I sent to Mark. Be strong!

I bobbed faster and faster, hoping Brandon would cum soon so I could get his disgusting cock out of my mouth. Then he gripped my head hard and fucked my face. His cock shoved down my throat. I relaxed, fighting off my instinct to try and break free. I had to keep up this degrading charade until he was exorcised.

“Fucking whore!” Brandon groaned. “Damn your mouth feels great! I’m gonna flood your lips with my cum, and you’re gonna drink it down like the good little slut you are!”

His cum disgustingly splashed into my mouth. I couldn’t exorcise him with a mouth full of his dick, so I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. I felt ill as his salty cum filled my mouth. His grip never relented, and I was forced to swallow his large load.

“That’s it, whore,” he moaned. “Mmm, drink it all down. You are such a slut.”

Finally, he finished, pulling out of my mouth. I wanted to spit.

Instead, I looked up at him, forcing myself to lick the cum off my lips as sexily as possible. “Thank you, my Lord. I bet my cunt would feel even better on your big, magnificent cock!”

His blow caught me by surprise.

I lay sprawled on the ground, my face burning with pain. I shook my head, blood dripping from my broken nose. What happened?

Brandon drew back his leg to kick my stomach and fear poured through me. He was trying to hurt my baby. I threw myself away, his foot catching my side instead of my belly. I tumbled across the ground, hip scraping on the rough concrete, skin burning.

“Did you think I was stupid enough to let you fuck me?” Brandon roared. “I know you have the Gift!”

“How?” I coughed.

“Mowdah,” Brandon answered. The spell that lets a Warlock see a person’s aura. Mine was bronze now. The aura of a Shaman.

“But you don’t have a sister,” I gasped in a nasally voice as blood poured from my broken nose.

“I have a brother,” Brandon answered, a look of distaste appearing on his face.

I felt so stupid. The Mowdah ritual required a sibling’s sexual juices. Mark and I used our sisters. We didn’t have a choice since neither of us had a brother. How could I forget that you could also use a brother? Karen’s warning rang in my mind. Brandon has… other! Sam’s scream had drowned out the middle of Karen’s warning. But I knew it now.

Brandon has a brother!

She was trying to warn me that my plan would fail.

I fought off my panic and glanced at Mark. I saw him concentrating. He was healing himself, but it would take time, and it would be obvious. I swallowed. I needed to distract Brandon and everyone else. I had to buy Mark time to heal himself. It was the only chance we had.

“I hope you didn’t wish for that small cock!” I taunted. “I barely felt it in my mouth.”

Brandon sent another kick at me, and I shouted, “Owr!”

Blinding light erupted between us. Brandon stumbled, his kick missing me. Blinking, he roared, “Fucking cunt!”

“Desiree told me she had to fake her orgasms when you fucked her!” I continued to taunt him, scrambling up to my feet. “She couldn’t feel your tiny dick inside her! But she never has to fake it with Mark! He has a huge cock!”

The bruises faded on Mark’s naked body, the swelling on his face slowly going down. I could see both of his eyes now. They were hard with concentration. I just needed to keep Brandon focused on me.

I backed away as the pig squinted, his vision returning. With a grunting roar, he lunged at me and tripped, falling forward. Desiree had grabbed his legs, holding him tight. Brandon hit the concrete hard. He cursed, spitting a bloody tooth out. He glared at Desiree and kicked my slut hard in the face. Crying out in pain, she let go.

Brandon was on his feet, rounding on Desiree. “I thought you knew your place, cunt!” he screamed at the Latina woman, kicking her hard in the stomach. “Fucking whore!”

“That’s mi Reina!” she shouted, defiance burning in her dark eyes as she clutched her stomach.

I moved to help her, but a hand grabbed me from behind. One of the soldiers, his grip crushing-iron as he squeezed my shoulder. Wincing in pain, I reached back, touched his hand, and screamed a single word: “Maveth!”

The soldier fell to the ground, screaming in horror. It was the last thing Azrael taught me before I woke up this morning. Because Azrael was the Angel of Death, she gifted a unique prayer to Shamans. A male Shaman could conjure the dead. A female Shaman could show a person what awaited them in death.

For a Thrall bound with the Zimmah spell, that meant sharing his Warlock’s torment in Hell.

I stepped back from the soldier, unnerved by the terror in his hoarse screaming. Would Mark and I experience that same horror when we died? Surely we were not as evil as Brandon? We do not deserve the same punishment that awaits his vile soul. I looked up at Brandon, and he licked his lips nervously.

He didn’t know what I just did. The Maveth prayer wasn’t in the Magicks of the Witch of Endor.

“Anyone who touches me shall receive the same fate!” I warned, staring at Brandon with all the anger and contempt I could muster.

Other soldiers eyed me warily. “Grab her!” Brandon screamed, an edge of hysteria in his voice. A smug feeling bubbled through me. He was scared of me. “Seize her now!”

Good.

I touched the first soldier who lunged at me, spoke the word, and he fell to the ground in horror. Three more grabbed me. They were all touching my bare skin. It was enough. I spoke and they, too, fell screaming. A gun cracked. I was enveloped in blue as my amulet deflected a shot. I turned to see the soldier who fired. 51 and 27 leaped on him, the two captured bodyguards wrestling him to the ground.

Elation surged in me. Brandon’s soldiers were in disarray, and Mark was healing. Everything was swinging in our favor.

“What is going on here?” a voice boomed like an erupting volcano.

I whirled about to see a tall, hulking man entering the exercise yard. Only he wasn’t a man. His eyes glowed like coals and his skin was black and cracked like cooling lava. The air stank of rotten eggs as the demon strode across the yard. The women huddled in the center of the yard scrambled to get out of his way, pushing and shoving each other in their terror to escape him.

“Molech, I have your next sacrifice!” Brandon bellowed, pointing right at me. “Mary Glassner!”

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 6.

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