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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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And the darkness descended upon the Holy Vizier, blood dripping from her fangs.

—The Second Book of Vivian 2:47

Samnag “Sam” Soun

I was lost in my notes when I heard the loud pops.

I looked up. “What was that, Candy?” I asked. “It sounded like gunfire.”

I frowned. Candy and Michel were gone. The girl had been making calf-eyes at him all day instead of helping me. I looked upstairs, frowning as thunder rumbled through the walls. Had I heard gunshots? Or was it just the storm that appeared to have descended on the village?

Fear nibbled at my stomach. I licked my lips, and then reached into my bag and pulled out the bronze, enchanted knife. My body trembling, I walked cautiously out of the Matmown into the dark basement. The only light cast shadows everywhere.

“Candy?” I called, straining to hear. The grip of my knife felt slippery in my sweaty hands.

No one answered. My heart thudded in my chest.

“Francois? Michel?”

I reached the stairs. I peered up them, fresh trembles wracked my body. I took a deep breath then crept up them. The stone runners were pitted with age, my footsteps so loud on them. I tried to hear any noise over the howl of the storm and the crash of lightning—and the hammering of my heart.

I reached the first floor and glanced at the entrance. My breath caught—there was Francois lying slumped to the floor, his throat torn out, dark blood pooling around his body.

The Alukah was here. A sudden anger flashed through me, momentarily driving out the fear. The idiot must have invited her in!

Something tickled the back of my neck, needle-like prickles that made me squirm. I felt like someone was watching me.

I whirled around to see a form flying at me.

I panicked, thrusting the knife blindly before me. I saw a woman’s face—eyes wild, mouth open and full of sharp teeth—a moment before she slammed into me. We fell to the floor in a tangled heap. I barely felt the stones bruise my hip.

The air sizzled, and the Alukah’s scream was inhuman.

I pushed her off of me. My dagger was ripped out of my sweaty grip as I scrambled away. The monster rose, naked, drenched in blood.

Please, please don’t be Candy’s blood!

Lodged in her shoulder, surrounded by blackening flesh, was the copper blade.

“Oh, you will pay for that, Samnag Soun,” the Alukah hissed. “I will slowly drain you of every drop of blood while you beg me to do it!”

She grasped the hilt and wrenched the knife free. She held the weapon for a moment, the blade sizzling, her blood smoking off in gray wisps. Then she dropped it to the ground with a loud clatter and stalked towards me.

I was going to die.

I thrust my wrist forward and unleashed the gale stored in my bracelet. It slammed into the Alukah, hurling her back like a rag-doll caught in the winds of the hurricane. She crashed with a meaty thunk into a stone wall.

I didn’t wait to see what happened to her. I turned and ran down the hallway away from the monster.

Behind me came vicious snarling. I reached a wooden door, slamming into it. I grasped at the old handle and forced it open, darting through into a kitchen. There were no other doors leading out.

“Shit!”

I looked around wildly. It was a neat and surprisingly modern room, renovated recently. There were copper pans hanging from hooks, the counters clean and… I grabbed a butcher’s knife from a wooden block and ducked behind a heavy, wood table.

“I can smell you,” the Alukah purred as she burst into the kitchen. “Your coppery blood pumping in your veins, the salt of your sweat beading on your skin, the honey between your legs weeping from your cunt.”

I watched her feet from beneath the table, padding closer. I clenched my hands on the knife.

“You could die screaming in pleasure. Would you like that?”

I tried to hold my breath. I needed to be quieter than a mouse, my heart screaming in my chest. A desperate plan flashed through my mind. She was heading to the far side of the kitchen. I would have to make a run for it.

“Where are you hiding, my little mouse?” purred the Alukah. “You smell so wonderful!”

She walked past the table. I tensed, ready to spring out and make my desperate bid for escape.

The table was thrown aside. I squeaked in fright, exposed. The Alukah stared down at me with hungry eyes.

I had to act.

I lunged with the butcher knife, stabbing her right in the heart. It plunged in deep. But she didn’t scream in pain.

Instead, she grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip while her other hand plucked the knife out of her breast. With a contemptuous snort, she tossed it to the floor. It was stainless steel, not enchanted or made of cold iron, so was completely ineffective against spiritual flesh.

I was dead.

She licked my wrist as I struggled to break her grip. Then she sank her fangs into my flesh.

Pleasure poured into me like a drug, trembling wonderfully through my body. Why was I resisting her? She brought me this amazing feeling. I shuddered as she drank the dark blood that oozed out of my flesh. I stopped struggling. Why would I even want to fight the rapture her fangs brought me?

“Imagine how it will feel when I drink from your thigh. From the femoral artery that runs right past your sopping pussy, draining you dry of every last drop of blood.” She inhaled deeply. “Your arousal smells so intoxicating!”

She pushed me to the floor. I spread my thighs for her. I wanted her to taste me, to drink my blood. I wanted to feel that pleasure even if it killed me. My pussy ached with desire.

Her tongue licked through my cunt and I arched my back. Her tongue was hot, her lips sucking at my clit. She sent her tongue probing into every fold of my flower, and my orgasm exploded through me. Rapture spasmed my body, bathed my mind.

She shifted, straddling my hips and lowering her shaved pussy to my lips. I buried my face into her cunt, licking, sucking. She tasted wonderful, tart and tangy, her honey thick as it filled my hungry lips. Her mouth was kissing at my inner thigh—above my femoral artery.

“Beg,” she hissed. “Beg and I’ll send you to the afterlife on a river of pleasure.”

“Yes, please!” I cried out, lost to ecstasy. “I need to feel that pleasure! Drink my life!”

Her mouth opened. Her teeth were sharp on my thigh. I squirmed; I couldn’t wait to feel this pleasure. I moaned as the sharp, agonizing rapture, caused by her teeth penetrating my skin, shuddered through me. Her teeth sank towards the artery. I groaned, squeezing my nipples.

I was going to die experiencing the greatest pleasure of my life!

My body burned to feel it; I didn’t care what happened to me. Nothing mattered, not even my beautiful Candy.

I saw her face floating above us. Even twisted in pain and anger, she was so beautiful, framed by her wet, half-blue and half-pink hair. I would miss her. A small regret filled me: I never told her how much I loved her.

“Goodbye, Candy,” I whispered.

The Alukah’s scream was unearthly pain, back arching, ripping her teeth out of my flesh mere centimeters from reaching my artery. She flopped off me, smoke rising from her back. She sprawled beside me, spasming on the stone floor of the kitchen in pain. She writhed like a spider missing a few legs.

Standing above her was a limping Candy, completely drenched, her right leg twisted, broken, bone thrust through her leg.

“I got the bitch,” she groaned in pain and collapsed to the floor.

The Alukah was shriveling black, like a corpse drying out in the desert, mummifying. Her body gave one last spasm before her screams cut off into a sibilant whisper. A bronze dagger gleamed in her back—the one I stabbed the monster with and she had dropped in the hallway.

Candy crawled to me and kissed me on the lips. Her tears were warm and salty as they fell on my face.

“You saved me, Candy,” I whispered back and kissed her again, holding her tight. I never wanted to let her go.

* * *

Jessica St. Pierre – Tacoma, WA

“Thank you all for coming,” I smiled in the makeshift press room set up in one of the Murano Hotel’s conference rooms. It was filled with reporters from all the big newspapers, cable news, and the national networks, crowding out the local reporters I knew. But I made sure Debra Horne-Dannell, from Seattle’s Q13 Fox, had a front-row view, the beautiful reporter smiling at me.

She was wild in bed. She was the reporter who witnessed the Miracle firsthand. Her footage and commentary went viral, propelling my Masters to international fame. She was also a devout worshiper, deep under their powers. It had allowed her to rise swiftly over the summer as my Masters favored giving her exclusive interviews.

And fucking her.

“The Living Gods are working tirelessly to create the utopia of the Theocracy,” I said, trembling in delight. I was right to stay as their slut, their sex slave, after the attack instead of going free like Noel or the others. I knew Master and Mistress would be powerful. They would rule the world, and I would be with them sharing in the spoils. “And they want you all to know that they love you.”

Cameras flashed while others broadcast me live across the world. I smiled, speaking slowly as I went through my comments, addressing how the Living Gods would improve everyone’s lives. They would end crime and poverty. There would be true freedom throughout the world, and equality between all men and women, between all races.

“Mankind will be united in worship of them, starting here in the country that sheltered them as they waited for their time, the United States. To that end, they are traveling to Washington DC and New York City to speak before Congress, the UN, and the Governors’ meeting being held in New York. Our Living God shall go to Congress and address our lawmakers, enlightening them to their message. And our Living Goddess shall go to the world, spreading her love.

“After the horrific events here in Tacoma, it is so important for mankind to reunite. For the demons plot and scheme. And only our Living Gods can protect us. Any questions?”

There were many. I reveled in the experience, selecting who could ask next. Yes, I made the right decision to stay as a slut.

* * *

Noel Heinrich – Philadelphia, PA

“Any questions?” Jessica St. Pierre asked as she finished her announcement.

I shivered, remembering the passion I had shared with the caramel-skinned woman when I was Mark’s slave. His degraded slut. And the fires rose in me. The anger to avenge myself and Chasity on the bastard.

And even better, I knew where he would be, away from his power base. Washington DC. He was arriving Sunday night. Plenty of time to plan out his assassination. I rose and moved through Wyatt’s house, rousing the rest of the Patriots.

We had all made our Pacts with the Devil, and now it was time to unleash our new powers upon Mark Glassner. I knew all his powers. I knew how his and Mary’s wishes worked. If he died, then it was over. She would die with him.

One bullet would do the trick.

To be continued…

Click here for Incestuous Worship, Chapter 1.

Click here for Servants’ Tales, Chapter 1.

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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!