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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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And in her foul lair, the demon Lilith plotted against the Living Gods.

—The Gospel of April 42:37

Friday, November 8th, 2013 – Mary Glassner – Tacoma, WA

Mark woke me with a kiss. He was sweet that way.

“We’re about to land,” he said.

I yawned, smiling at my husband. The dream had been such a success. We made love for what felt like hours on that sandy beach. It worked just like Sam predicted. According to her, we could share our dreams without needing Azrael because of how tightly bound together our souls were. The Angel had laid the bridge, but we didn’t need her to cross any longer. We were so close that our souls were practically one, chained together by wishes and spells—and love.

We left the cabin and entered the main area, full of lounging bodyguards, most naked or half-undressed. On the plane, they could relax and unwind, playing with the sluts and each other. They didn’t have to be vigilant.

“And what led to Sister Cuntrag submitting to Master and Mistress?” April asked. She sat next to Korina, a laptop on her lap and her fingers dancing across the key.

“Master turned her into a bitch,” Korina answered. “He put a choke collar around her neck, dog ears on her head, and a butt plug with a dog’s tail up her ass. Then he and Mistress took her for a walk outside.”

“Haven’t you heard that part before?” I asked April.

“Not from Korina, Mistress,” April answered. “If I’m going to write your gospel, I need to talk to everyone. Make sure I know all the details and how to present them. Your image has to be maintained.”

Mark nodded. All summer, April had been working on her gospel, the first holy scripture to present to our followers. “You know, I never wondered why you chose to do this, slut.”

April flushed. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I wrote a few… dirty stories and published them on the internet.”

Mark laughed. “What a naughty slut.”

I bent down and kissed her on the lips. “You should share those with us.”

April managed to blush an even deeper shade of crimson. “They’re so terrible, Mistress. But I will.”

“I doubt they’re terrible at all. You’re a good writer. I know your gospel will be remembered.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

I sat down next to Mark, leaning my head on his shoulder. It struck that it meant April was writing a scripture about us. Sometimes the sheer magnitude of what we were doing would fall on me, burying me beneath an avalanche of guilt. We weren’t gods. We were just two flawed individuals muddling our way through the world, thrust into events beyond our capabilities.

But Lucifer had to be stopped. We had to have the world prepared in case the worst should happen. If the Gates of Hell are opened, and the Devil and his ilk are unleashed to plague mankind, we would have to stop them. They would transform Earth into Hell, oppressing and enslaving everyone.

This mess was our fault. Mark and I were both too weak to have made better choices, and now we had to reap the harvest we sowed.

We landed at McChord Air Field, part of Joint Base Lewis-McChord. It was a combined Army and Air Force installation that bordered the city of Lakewood. A different limo waited for us than the one we used in Kansas. We had several armored limos that were flown about on one of our many C-130 cargo planes. There was no media waiting for us in the early hours of the morning, only an honor guard of Airmen.

Thank god for that. I didn’t want to deal with the press.

The limo drove us north on I-5 to the Murano Hotel, our temporary home while we built our Mansion back in South Hill. After Brandon burned down our neighborhood, we had commandeered the hotel in downtown Tacoma for our residence. I was still tired. The flight was only a few hours. Just long enough to take a nap. I needed more sleep.

The lobby was full of our maids, dressed in a variety of sexy maid outfits. They were mostly between eighteen and twenty, but a few were older women. They were all recruited by Willow out of her gynecological clinic and bound to Mark with the Zimmah spell. The sluts were too important to waste on cleaning the hotel.

“Master, Mistress,” Pearl bowed. She was the chief maid. Her eighteen-year-old daughter, Cindy, was one of the thirty or so maids who greeted us. “Welcome back.”

I frowned, noticing young Cindy glancing at our party, a hopeful smile on her lips. I turned my head. Violet, standing by her girlfriend April, returned the smile, her fingers twitching. Was this why Violet had acted distant from April the last week or so?

Had she met someone new?

I groaned, fearing drama in our future.

“Karishma will be joining your maids,” Mark said to Pearl, drawing my attention back to him. He had brought the beautiful Indian nurse forward. “I haven’t bound her yet, so don’t let her see anything sensitive. I’ll take care of that later today.” He yawned. “After we get some more sleep.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Pearl bowed. Then she took Karishma’s hand. “Mmm, aren’t you a pretty one? The girls and I will take good care of you.”

The other maids gave wicked giggles. They were a frisky bunch.

All of our family and employees had rooms in the hotel. Only people bound by the Zimmah spell stayed here now. Leah, our chauffeur, was greeted by her husband and wife. I was glad their three-way marriage worked out. It was wonderfully romantic watching Rachel and Leah fall in love that weekend in New York, and Jacob rounded out their threesome nicely.

“Let’s get to bed,” I told my husband, taking his arm and leaning against him.

His hand touched my belly. I loved when he did that.

The elevator opened as we neared it. Sam stepped out naked, trailed by an equally nude Candy, her love slave and girlfriend. I flushed as I saw the girl-cock swinging between Sam’s legs and the cum dripping out of Candy’s pussy.

“Sorry, Mary,” Sam said, a blush suffusing her dusky cheeks. “Forgot to put it away.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind,” I said, licking my lips.

But Sam was already concentrating. Her dick shrank, retreating back into a little clitoris nestled in her pussy lips. Memories of having my own cock flooded my mind, part of a deal I made with Lilith to save Mark from a spell. I remembered the feeling of warm pussy engulfing my girl-cock and the intense release of a male orgasm.

My pussy grew juicy. Could Mark handle me having a cock I could dismiss? We could fuck the same woman, using her holes together. But what if he couldn’t handle it?

He’s watched Sam fuck other women. I’d seen the lust burning in his eyes. But Sam wasn’t his wife, and he never fucked her once since she gained her futa-cock. I pushed down my desires. I didn’t want to take that chance that he would stop seeing me as a woman. It wasn’t worth the risk of causing a rift between us.

Even if I burned to create my own girl-cock sometimes. I knew the spell. The Magicks of the Witch of Endor contained it.

“It’s finished,” Sam answered once her dick shrank.

“What is?” I asked, and then a yawn widened my mouth. “Sorry.”

Mark and I’d been traveling the country for the last three days. The NSA had turned its considerable capabilities into spying on U.S. Citizens, and we crashed several protest rallies and placed more resistors under our control before stopping in Omaha to spend the day healing.

Still no sign of those damned Patriots, though.

“The Matmown!” Excitement filled Sam’s voice. “Just a few hours ago. We were celebrating!”

“Yes, we were,” giggled Candy.

Energy surged through me, banishing my fatigue. “You tested it?”

“I summoned Karen, and she could not see us within it,” Sam confirmed. Karen, our dead slut, could be summoned with the proper spells. As a spiritual being, she proved that the Matmown would keep our conversation safe from the wrong ears hearing.

I glanced at Mark. Eagerness in his eyes. He was desperate to learn what secret I had been holding back these last six weeks. Maryām, the Mother Superior of the Nuns, pressed upon me the necessity of not revealing the truth of Lucifer’s plans outside of a Matmown. The Devil could not know that we were moving against him.

It was the only chance we had.

* * *

Lilith – The Abyss

I glared at Samnag Soun as I haunted the Shadows. If hate could reach through the barrier between life and death, my gaze would stop her foul heart. Her and that slattern, Candy. They killed my daughter, my sweet Luka. They cut off her head and buried her with a mouth full of dirt.

And now they would take away my best tool against Mark and Mary: spying on them.

I’d be blind.

I gnashed my teeth as Mark, Mary, Sam, Candy, and all the sluts trooped into the elevator. I wanted to step through the Shadows and rip off all their heads. Mark had killed two more of my daughters—my beautiful Dimme twins. Rage boiled inside me. Only my spirit traveled to the Abyss. My vessel rested safely in Seattle. I couldn’t touch Mark even if I manifested into the mortal world.

I would only be an insubstantial specter.

It was just as well. I would most likely die if I tried. My skills weren’t found in the martial. Mark had slain Molech, one of the most powerful of the Demon Princes in physical strength and combat prowess. Only Lucifer could rival Molech in a contest of arms.

Around me prowled Mark’s dead whores—Chasity, Karen, the others. They were always hovering in the Shadows around Mark and Mary, protecting them from the Patriots’ foolish attacks. The ghosts had tried to drive me off in the beginning, but I was a spiritual being, so I could harm the ghosts.

Now they didn’t bother. They just watched, ready to pounce if it looked like I’d cross over. I could feel their eyes on me, full of anger and hatred. I ignored them, focusing on Mark’s group.

The elevator reached the basement. They traveled down the hallway to the damned cold-iron box—the Matmown. The iron walls shown with a blinding, white light. The Prayers inscribed on the metal burned with the ferocity of the stars, flooding the Shadows with a painful glare. The door to the Matmown lay open. Not that it mattered.

I couldn’t enter it. Not from the Shadows.

The door clanged closed. I wanted to howl in frustration. They would move on me next. I could feel it. Ever since they sent Sam to France, my name had barely been spoken. They were avoiding making plans, knowing I could spy on them from the Shadows and overhear whatever they said.

My mind whirled. I was only weeks away from being powerful enough to challenge them. Damn that slattern, Sam! How did Mark ever find someone so competent?

“Isn’t it funny how much time you spend lurking in the Abyss,” Lucifer mocked from behind me.

I almost jumped, but eons spent in the Abyss taught me to suppress any sign of weakness.

“You spent all that energy to escape, and yet here you are,” he continued. “Why did you even bother?”

His radiance warmed my back. “What I do is none of your business. I am yours no longer.”

“You have always been mine. Even now.”

“Even if you interfere, I will still be free. Still be away from you!” I would never be his whore again.

“Why would I interfere? Everything you do serves my purpose.”

I ground my teeth in frustration. He was always so smug, so sure that events danced to his lyre. I turned to face him. Tried not to flinch before his radiance. He had to shine as bright as his pride, and nothing in the universe was greater.

“What if they’re plotting against you, Lucifer? Who knows what the Mother Superior told that whore Mary in France?”

He shrugged. “I’ll know soon enough.”

“How?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “Not even you can penetrate a Matmown.”

“I have a spy. She has been with them for months. In their inner circle.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” I demanded. “All the people around them are bound by the Zimmah ritual.”

Condescension flickered through his radiance. “You should run along now and try to defend your little demesne before Mark takes it away from you.”

Infuriated with Lucifer, I returned to my body.

Blinking, shocked back on my flesh, my heart thudding, my body having weight, mass once again. I sat up in my chair. Lana and Chantelle, my High Priestesses, knelt patiently. I wanted to slam my fist into the desk and screech out my rage and fear. But I had to maintain my calm, controlled exterior.

I am a Goddess.

I took two deep breaths, trying to exhale all of my frustrations.

My gaze fell on blonde, voluptuous Lana. Her round face, set with blue eyes, peered up at me. My lust stirred. I let my cock grow hard, expanding from my clit. The pink nub swelled into a thick, fleshy shaft throbbing with need.

My frustration needed an outlet, and Lana’s juicy sheath was the perfect place to release pent-up energy.

“Lana,” I said imperiously.

“Yes, my Goddess?” she asked.

“Attend me.”

She rose gracefully, wearing a flowery dress and a light, blue sweater. She shrugged off the sweater and pulled her dress over her head. Round breasts, large nipples pierced with gold rings, spilled out, both so taught and delicious. I followed my eyes down to her hips, swaying as she moved.

My eyes feasted on her plump curves. Her heavy breasts swayed as she circled to my side of the desk and bent over it. Her rump pressed at me, wiggling with her awakened desire, surrendering to my lusts. My dick throbbed at the sight.

“Such an obedient slave,” I purred, touching her ass.

“My Goddess,” she moaned, shaking as an orgasm swept through her. Juices squirted down her thighs from her spasming pussy, filling the air with the most delicious of scents—a woman’s arousal.

I savored her tart, tangy fragrance. I shuddered, letting my red dress dissolve into mist, exposing my perfect body. My pillowy breasts swayed before me, my dick reaching towards the hot pussy nestled between her thighs.

“Use my naughty cunt to relieve yourself,” Lana purred.

“Oh, I will use you,” I groaned, staring at her quivering rump.

Chantelle, Lana’s wife and my other high priestess, also undressed. She had the slim, lithe figure of a ballerina with a porcelain face framed by short, black hair. I could smell her arousal as well, a sweet musk adding to Lana’s bouquet. A girl-cock swelled from Chantelle’s clit. Lana reached out and grasped her wife’s dick, stroking it.

“I need relief too, my love,” Chantelle purred in her melodic, Quebecois accent.

“Gladly,” Lana answered and pulled her wife’s cock into her lips.

The sucking throbbed my dick. My pussy clenched as Chantelle groaned, a graceful shudder wracking her body. My dick twitched. I groaned, breathing in the bouquet of feminine passion filling my office with such sweet incense.

Such beautiful offering.

Lana’s cunt was shaved, her labia engorged and dark with passion. Begging to worship my cock. With a hard thrust, I buried my girl-dick deep into her sheath. Hot, tight pussy engulfed my cock, spasming immediately.

She came before my dick buried to the hilt in her pussy, my very touch igniting her rapture. Her pussy writhed about my cock, milking it as she quivered, her cute rump tensing and rippling. A moment later, Chantelle moaned, my Lust flooding through Lana’s body and into the black-haired woman.

I smelled the salt of girl-cum flooding Lana’s mouth.

“Drink my cum!” Chantelle moaned as my Lust triggered her orgasm. She gripped Lana’s blonde hair, fucking her cock deep into her wife’s hungry lips as it erupted. “Just drink it all.”

“Use the little slut,” I groaned, drawing back my cock through the spasming delight.

Lana’s pussy never stopped cumming as I pounded her. Every thrust slid in and out of the heaven of her convulsing silk. It massaged my cock, making me ache and groan. Her delightful tunnel pleasured my dick, building the pressure in the core of my pussy.

Chantelle found a rhythm with me, fucking Lana’s mouth at my speed. We’d thrust into the whore at the same time, filling her up with the girl-cocks she loved. Chantelle’s eyes squeezed shut, her mouth gulping down load after load of cum from Chantelle’s cock.

“My beautiful Lana,” Chantelle moaned. “Swallow my load! Oh fuck, I’m cumming again!”

The black-haired woman fired more cum than Lana could handle. It spilled out of her mouth. Chantelle swiped up the jizz with a finger, shoving it into her mouth with greedy hunger. She shuddered, savoring the taste of her own cum as she pumped more spunk into her wife’s mouth.

My cock throbbed in Lana’s spasming pussy. “That is such a nasty sight.”

“My Goddess?” Chantelle asked, her voice throaty with passion.

I seized Chantelle’s head and pulled her lips to mine. I kissed her with devouring passion, tasting the salty flavor of her cum.. The slut moaned her passion into our kiss. I shoved my tongue into her mouth, exploring, stirring her up while I pounded her slut-wife.

She groaned and gasped, her body bucking, assaulted by my Lust. I felt every spasm of her cock flooding her wife with more jizz to guzzle down. I thrust so hard, burying into Lana’s snatch, her massaging pussy bringing me closer and closer to erupting.

“My Goddess,” Chantelle panted when I let go of the kiss, her head reeling with intoxicated passion. “Thank you!”

“Your reward for your service,” I hissed. “And here’s more.”

I cupped one of my heavy, perfect breasts. The nipple beaded milk. Hunger transformed Chantelle’s face. She darted down, still fucking her wife’s mouth, and latched onto my nipple. My pussy clenched as she nursed. My milk flowed.

She gulped down my creamy treat with as much enthusiasm as Lana gulped down her futa-cum. Pleasure arced from my nipple, through my body, and stuck the growing storm in my womb. I fucked Lana harder, her tight pussy gripping me like a velvet glove as it writhed. I exulted in her wet, spongy flesh.

I was the Goddess of Lust, and Lana and Chantelle fervently worshiped me. I drank in their passion, feasting off of it. I breathed in the sweet, musky odor of sex thick in the air. I didn’t need to eat or sleep—I just needed to drink sexual energy.

Primal, vital life.

The storm raged inside me and then growled with erupting rapture. Winds of ecstasy whorled through me. Cum fired out of my dick into Lana’s hungry pussy. Her cunt spasmed harder on my dick, milking the jizz out of my body.

I shuddered, Chantelle suckling so hard as the pleasure burst through me. My Lust surged through the warehouse. All my followers and my monstrous daughters felt it. Feminine orgasms erupted, sweet moans of worship rising to praise me.

I forgot all about my problems in this one, rapturous instance.

Then I collapsed into my chair, my breasts heaving, my cock shrinking. My black cum poured down Lana’s thighs as she gasped and trembled. Her wife screamed out in orgasmic delight, firing more jizz into Lana’s hungry mouth.

I closed my eyes, ignoring them. I breathed in deeply, savoring the musk perfuming the air in my office. My body tingled with energy, restoring the power I’d expanded to send my spirit to the Abyss.

I have a spy.

Lucifer’s words interrupted my reverie. Did he really have a spy? Impossible. All those sluts around Mark were bound to him. None would betray him. Not when the bastard and his slattern held their life force in the palm of their hands. Lucifer was trying to keep me unbalanced.

I opened my eyes. Lana’s messy cunt, smeared with salty pitch, wiggled before me. She kissed her wife, the pair groaning. Then Lana broke it, groaning, “Mmm, thank you. I love our Goddess’s milk.”

“You’re welcome,” Chantelle answered. “Do you have something to give me?”

“I do,” Lana answered, moving around the desk. She perched her curvy ass on my desk. Chantelle knelt before her. I could hear the messy sounds of cunnilingus. “Oh yes!” Lana moaned. “You wonderful woman! I love you!”

“How is Tir progressing?” I asked. “Has she perfected it yet?”

“No, my Goddess,” Lana reported, her voice thick with lust. Tir was my daughter by Thamina. Thamina, like Lana and Chantelle, used to be Mark and Mary’s slut. Now she served me. “It’s not transmitting effectively. She thinks another few weeks to fine-tune it.”

I sighed. I didn’t expect a miraculous breakthrough in the last few hours.

But it wasn’t good news. I didn’t have a few weeks. I closed my eyes again, thinking. Mark would be coming after me. I would have to stall him somehow. I needed to give Tir the time she needed to complete her work and for my army in Africa to be born.

But that wouldn’t take care of Mark himself. I’d need something else to kill him.

I smiled. The daggers of Mispach. Forged by Cain from a falling star. Any wound from one of those cursed daggers is so fatal, no power could heal it. They were lost to time. First I’d need to get some breathing room. Then there’d be time to search out one of the daggers.

“Mmm, let me taste our Goddess’s seed,” cooed Lana.

The sounds of their kissing distracted me. When I opened my eyes, I found them locked in a passionate embrace. Their relationship was young; their love still burned hot. I could feel the lust bleeding off both of them, calling to me. Lana moaned low and throaty as Chantelle sheathed her cock in the blonde.

Their lust stirred my passions, hardening my cock.

I glided gracefully around the desk, my cock waving hard before me. Chantelle’s slim ass pumped as she fucked Lana. I touched the small of her back. I held back my Lust, wanting my priestesses to be relatively clearheaded. Chantelle looked at me over her shoulder, an inviting smile on her face.

My cock found her wet cunt, and I drove hard into her, pushing Chantelle’s dick deep into Lana. Savoring the feel of Chantelle’s pussy, I groaned, “I have a plan, Priestesses.”

To be continued…

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