---

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 their final gasp, the Patriots launched their foul demons upon the Living God.

—The Gospel of April 47:1

Mark Glassner – Air Force One

After Germany, I did the Spanish broadcast, covering Spain and much of Central and South America. Finally finished, I yawned. With another five hours left in the flight, I decided I needed more sleep. It was never to be undervalued. I strolled through the plane, and noticed many of my servants were also sleeping as I passed through the darkened cabin. The bodyguards had earned their rest; they had to be alert most of the time in Japan and now were finally able to relax on the plane ride home.

I found Lillian and Korina awake when I entered the cabin. Korina leaned against a pile of pillows cradling Lillian’s head to her breast. Korina’s doll face was contorted in pleasure as Lillian’s fingers worked in and out of her cunt. Between her fluttering eyelids, I saw her blue eyes. She smiled at me.

“Mmm, my breasts were getting full,” Korina purred, hefting her left breast, a drop of white milk glistening on the dark red nipple. “Would you like to help, Master?”

Lillian looked up from Korina’s other big teat, smiling lustily at me. White milk stained Lillian’s lips. Her black hair, streaked with blue and purple highlights, fell loose about her shoulders. She usually wore them in pigtails but not to bed. Silver piercings dotted her face: on her lip, her eyebrow, and nose. Both sluts were naked, wearing only their gold chokers.

As I crawled onto the bed, Lillian grabbed my head and kissed me hard, thrusting her tongue into my mouth along with sweet, creamy breast milk. She hadn’t swallowed, sharing the treat with me. I groaned as her hand slid down my torso, leaving a trail of Korina’s pussy juices on her way to grasp my cock.

“Mmm, doesn’t she taste wonderful?” Lillian purred when she broke the kiss, her hand pumping up and down my dick.

“She does,” I smiled, enjoying her hand. “I bet she tastes even better fresh.”

“Uh-huh,” Lillian purred, arching an eyebrow. “Shall we, Master?”

I winked at her

Together, Lillian and I each cupped one of Korina’s pillowy tits. The pregnancy had swelled them even larger while her nipples became redder. I latched on, tasting a trace of her sweet milk. I sucked hard, milk squirting into my mouth.

It was such a wonderful treat. I revered in the delicious flavor as warm breast milk splashed on my tongue. I nursed hard, pleasure flowing through my body. Partly from gulping down the creamy treat, but mostly from Lillian’s hand pumping away on my cock.

“Oh, yes,” Korina purred, her doll’s face contorting in blissful pleasure. “It makes me feel so sexy to nurse you two.”

I sucked harder, her milk spraying into my mouth. I gulped it down, loving the melony aftertaste, almost like cantaloupe, that lingered after every sweet swallow. My dick throbbed in Lillian’s hand as she nursed beside me, her cheeks hollowing as she suckled with the same hunger as me.

My hand slid stroked across Korina’s taut stomach. After being pregnant for months, it was strange seeing her belly so flat. I moved lower, tickling her bellybutton, making her giggle, before I pressed between her thighs. I found her cunt hot and waxed bare, dripping with her juices.

“Oh, yes, Master!” Korina gasped as I slipped two fingers up inside her, probing into her wet depths as she writhed on the sheets. “That’s so good.”

And felt good.

I wiggled my fingers inside Korina’s snatch, making my slut squirm and writhe more. Her fingers stroked through my dark hair as I nursed from her breast. Her milk warmed my stomach. I loved the flavor, the delight.

The pressure built in my balls. Lillian jerked me off faster and faster. Her hands felt like tight silk as she stroked me. She smeared my precum around the crown, my tip drinking in the friction. I moaned about Korina’s nipple.

She whimpered, “Master!”

Her snatch tightened on my fingers. Her hand moved from my hair to stroke my cheek as I kept nursing. I swallowed hungry mouthfuls of her sweet milk. My thumb found her clit. She moaned again, her breasts jiggling as she spasmed. I massaged her bud in hard circles, her pussy growing hotter and hotter around my digits.

Her whimpers made me finger her faster. I plunged my fingers deep into her cunt as I massaged her clit. She groaned, her fingers stroking my face as the pleasure built and built in her. I could feel it. I knew my sluts so well.

“Master, I’m going to cum!” she whimpered.

Lillian purred in delight, keeping her hand pumping on my dick. Every stroke brought me closer and made me massage my busty slut’s clit harder. Korina’s blue eyes fluttered as she arched her back. Her pussy tightened on my fingers.

Then she bucked and cried out! “Master.”

I pumped my digits into her convulsing snatch. Her flesh writhed about them. Her juices squirted out around her. I gulped down her breast milk, savoring the pleasure I gave my slut. I stared into her face as her orgasm surged through her.

“Thank you, thank you, Master!” she whimpered.

I pulled my mouth off her nipple and my fingers from her cunt. “You’re welcome slut.”

She smiled at that, a pleased smile, showing off all the yummy pleasure she’d experienced. Then she groaned as I smeared my dripping fingers on her nipple. I coated it in her pussy juices so I could enjoy her cream with my milk.

“That looks delicious,” Lillian said after popping her mouth off Korina’s other nipple.

“Yes, it does.” I agreed and engulfed Korina’s nipple.

I suckled, tasting her pussy juices and her milk. The two flavors mixed in my mouth. Lillian’s free hand, the one not occupied jerking my dick, scooped up some of Korina’s juices and coated the free nipple.

“Oh, yes,” Korina moaned as we both suckled again.

My balls tensed. The pleasure sliding up and down my shaft was bringing my cum to a boil. I groaned, suckling so hard. I gulped down her milk, suckling as hard as I could. My entire body tensed as the pleasure swelled through me.

Somehow, sensing I was about to cum, Lillian’s head shot down Korina’s body. I groaned about a fat nipple as Lillian’s wet mouth engulfed my cock. She sucked hard, the pleasure shooting down my shaft to my balls.

And triggered my orgasm.

“Fuck!” I grunted, mouth popping off Korina’s nipple. My cum fired into my slut’s mouth. “Lillian, you are an amazing slut!”

Lillian only moaned as I filled her mouth with my jizz. She gulped it down, swallowing with the same noisy hunger she drank Korina’s breast milk. The pleasure rushed through me. Each blast filled me with such euphoria.

My body buzzed. My mind drank in the ecstasy. I clutched onto the pleasure as I groaned through my clenched teeth. I wanted it to last forever. But it only lasted for a brief eternity. A flash of rapture, and then I collapsed, panting.

“Damn, that was good, slut,” I groaned.

Lillian popped her mouth off of me, grinning, her cheeks bulging with my cum.

I rolled onto my back, breathing hard and feeling tired after my orgasm. I lazily watched Lillian crawl up Korina’s body. The pair shared my jizz. They snowballed it back and forth as my eyes grew heavier and heavier.

The last thing I remember was the pair slipping into a sixty-nine and eating each other’s pussies. I drifted off to sleep to the sweet sounds of women making love.

* * *

Noel Heinrich – Unalaska Island

The wind howled past us, whipping cold off the Bering Sea. We stood on the lichen-covered rocks of Unalaska Island, one of the larger islands of the Aleutians. I gripped a pair of binoculars, scanning the sky to the southeast, looking for Mark Glassner’s plane. It should be easy to spot in the blue skies since it was being escorted by a squadron of F-22 Raptors and accompanied by several C-135s cargo planes and a KC-135 tanker.

I didn’t see it yet.

“Where is his plane?” Davin asked. “I’m freezing my dick off.”

I glanced at the heavy-set, shivering Black man, asked. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket?”

“Didn’t think it would be this cold, Noel. It’s May, for Christ’s sake. He better show up soon!”

“Maybe they had a headwind,” I suggested. Mark was traveling back from Japan. His flight path should take him over the Aleutians pretty close to where we were. We knew what time he took off from Tokyo; he should be soaring over any minute now.

Mark had to be stopped. And soon. America was a shadow of its former self. Once, we were a strong and independent nation. Once, we had freedom. Now, most of the country meekly did whatever he said. They were just drones, happy to follow his commands. There was no passion, no heart or soul any longer, just polite people. Mark had robbed the nation of its will.

Despair had broken my heart.

For six months, we’d tried to kill Mark. And failed every time. He was powerful. He had more tricks up his sleeve than any of us had anticipated. Even in the chaos of the Plague, our best attempts to kill him had failed. We came close in February to taking out Mary, but we only managed to kill a few of their bodyguards.

Every day our cause grew more desperate. If one of their Thralls—and that was three-quarters of the country at this point—saw a person using magic, they would immediately call the Warlock 1-800 number and turn you in. Many of us lost loved ones during the Plague because we couldn’t heal them without exposing ourselves. And despite our careful precautions, the Tyrants were tracking us down one by one. Alison and Desiree, with their commando squads, were roaming the nation, capturing or killing any Warlocks they found.

Ten of the Patriots had already been eliminated by those two whores.

“There they are,” Wyatt said. He was my old mentor from my FBI days, as well as my second-in-command of the Patriots. He had been very successful in the private security market; his fortune helped to bankroll our operations.

I grabbed my binoculars and spotted the approaching planes. We wouldn’t have much time. The brazier was already lit; a greasy, black smoke rose thickly into the air. Drawn around the brazier was a circle and a pentagram along with many Hebrew markings, a summoning circle.

“Aerials, I summon you!” I shouted, mouthing the magical formula we found in De Operatione Daemonum. “Cloak your forms in smoke and appear before me!”

The smoke twitched, swirled about, forming a black vortex. It grew wider and wider, then crashed into an invisible wall—the edge of the circle. A piercing, roaring howl grew and grew, full of anger and frustration as it pounded against the wall. The vortex swirled faster before breaking apart into smaller and smaller vortexes, contracting and shaping into vicious beings. The air crackled and eyes formed, white-yellow lightning. There were dozen of them, howling and chittering like monkeys as they swirled about the circle.

“Release us!” they boomed like thunder in one voice.

“I have a task for you,” I answered, putting all the authority and confidence I could muster into my voice.

“Release us! The pain!”

“No! You can rot in that circle!”

“What is your task?” the multitude of voices snarled.

I pointed to the sky. “Take down Mark Glassner’s plane!”

Muttered hisses crackled in the circle. “Agreed! Release us!”

I swiped my foot through the circle, breaking the plane. The Aerials, like a swarm of vaporous monkeys, shot into the air, cackling with laughter. There were innocent people on his plane, but I hardly felt any guilt. Anger had burned away my conscience. Freedom had its price. I was more than willing to pay it.

In fact, I already had. My hands could still feel the garrote and hear the choking whimpers.

* * *

Mark Glassner – Air Force One

A metallic, tearing sound shuddered through the plane and dragged me up from sleep. The plane rocked violently as I came awake. Fear clutched my heart at the terrible cacophony. Korina hugged me tightly, panic shining in her blue eyes. I struggled to get up, tangled by my slut’s panicked limbs.

“What’s going on?” I muttered. There was another ripping noise, and the plane shook violently.

“Everyone fasten your seatbelts,” Joslyn barked over the plane’s PA. “We’re experiencing some mechanical difficulty.”

I rolled out of the bed, heading for the door. Another violent shake rattled the plane. I grunted as I stumbled into the wall. I threw up my arm, grunted at the flare of pain. I stumbled, catching myself as the plane shuddered.

“Fuck,” I muttered, staring at a long cut oozing blood on my forearm.

The door banged open, revealing a pale-looking 27. She was in command of the bodyguards on this trip; 51 was too far along in her pregnancy to travel. “Sir, there’s… something on the wings.” She sounded calmer than she looked, her eyes wild. “It’s ripping off pieces of the plane.”

“What?”

“Spectre, sir.”

I shivered at that. Spectre. The code word for minor demons. It meant a Patriot attack.

“They’re made of smoke,” 27 continued. “We haven’t seen these kinds before. They’re ripping the plane apart. You need to take a seat, sir. Buckle up.”

“Right,” I said.

I followed her up the fuselage, gripping the sides of chairs to stay upright as the plane shook and shimmied violently. As I headed forward, I bent over to peer out of the porthole windows. I spotted what looked like smoke monkeys tearing into the wing. More were on the cowl of the engines, pieces of aluminum ripped off and whipped away. Black smoke poured from one engine.

Was the plane on fire?

Adrenaline surged through me, a cold wave that sent my heart beating frantically.

“We need to get out there!” I exclaimed. “Shoot out the windows or something!”

“The plane’s going too fast and we’re too high up!” 27 objected. “A living person can’t go out there, sir. And even if we could hold against the air rushing by, we can’t breathe at this altitude!”

No one living could. “Tsalmaveth!”

The moment the spell left my mouth, the temperature in the plane dropped. A silvery mist sprang up through the fuselage and coalesced into twenty-one figures. Thanks to the Patriots, another six of my bodyguards fell defending Mary and my little sister in February, expanding the number of ghosts I could summon.

I’d prefer if their numbers never grew again.

“Master,” Chasity greeted with a smile. With her blue eyes, blonde hair, and Nordic cheekbones, the dead slut was the spitting image of a Valkyrie. “We’ll sweep these vermin off the plane.”

“Good,” I said, nodding at the dead bodyguards as they surged out to the wings, ten going right, ten going left. They phased right through the hull of the plane like it wasn’t there.

Karen was the only ghost that didn’t go out there. She stayed with me.

I sat down and stared intently through the window as the ghosts fired their silver 9mm’s at the smoke monkeys. Through the airplane’s fuselage, their gunshots sound like small pops. None of my ghosts—or the smoke monkeys for that matter—seemed affected by the 500 mph wind rushing by them. The ghosts stayed in the same place on the wing like their feet were glued to it.

“They’re aerials,” Karen said, sitting down next to me. “Lesser demons of air, Master.”

“Where did they come from?” I asked the ghost.

“From one of the the islands we’re flying over.” Karen concentrated. “Unalaska Island. But the summoners have already fled.”

“The Patriots?”

Karen nodded.

Every time a silver bullet struck one of the smokey aerials, whatever force animated their vapors dispersed, and a small cloud of black would zoom away from the plane. The aerials seemed to ignore the ghosts, instead focusing on ripping apart the plane.

“Why don’t they fight back?” I wondered, watching the demons and my ghosts.

“They weren’t ordered to,” Karen explained. “They were only commanded to bring down the plane.”

“Stupid of the Patriots,” I muttered. “Lucky for us.

In moments, the ghosts had right wing cleared the right wing. But I had to see the other side of the plane. It shuddered and jostled like it flew through horrible turbulence. I gripped the seat’s armrest, passing through the central row to the left side of the plane. I sat down at the window, Karen following me, and peered out at the wing.

My stomach clenched at what I saw. Huge chunks of the metal exterior were ripped away, metal twisted and rivets popped. I witnessed the exposed hydraulics and wires of the wing’s innards, its network of muscles and veins. I didn’t see any of the aerials here. The ghosts were firing at the back of the plane now.

Karen shifted onto my lap; her body felt strangely real despite being made of silvery fog. Then she stuck her head through the side of the plane. “There’s a few more on the tail.”

I heard worry in her words. “What else?”

“The tail’s missing an elevator, Master.” She looked at me with concern.

“Fuck,” I groaned.

“You should buckle up, Master.”

I swallowed and strapped in. 27 sat next to me, swallowing. I grabbed her hand; she squeezed mine back. She tried to hide the fear, but it was there in her eyes and the corners of her lips. I took a deep breath, my heart racing and—

The plane dropped. My stomach rose up into my guts as my body tried to lift from the seat. The belt held me in place as the plane dived downward. The engines whined in protest, the plane groaning. People screamed in fright. It took me a moment to realize I was one of them.

The plane leveled out for a moment, everything shuddering. I clutched Karen’s ghostly body on my lap as the plane pitched up and down rapidly. The fuselage groaned under the stress. The wings flexed. Bits of metal and parts ripped off by the winds.

“It’s not that bad, dying,” Karen said with a comforting smile. “It’s like falling asleep.”

“But I’m not ready,” I said. “I want to see my daughter being born.”

* * *

Joslyn Palmer – Air Force One

“Mayday, mayday, mayday!” I calmly broadcast over the radio, fighting with the control stick of my plane. My God’s life was in my hands. I pulled on the yoke, arresting another steep dive. I glanced at the altimeter, 20,750 feet and descending, but not as fast as we had plummeted a minute ago. “This is Air Force One declaring an emergency!”

“Copy your Mayday. This is Anchorage control. What is the emergency?” It was reassuring to hear how calm the air traffic controller sounded.

“I have one dead engine, and multiple control surfaces damaged, descending through angels twenty.”

“Engine three is on fire,” Lydia, my copilot, reported as she reached for the flashing red knob on the control panel above the windshield. She pulled it, deploying the fire extinguisher.

“Feather three,” I ordered, my hands clutching the yoke with a death grip. My right thumb keyed the radio button on the stick, “Air Force One; we’ve lost a second engine. We need a bearing to the nearest runway.”

“Copy that, Air Force One,” Anchorage control responded. “Turn to Heading 47. You’re 102 miles out from Anchorage.”

Shit! “We’ll try to hold it in the air that long. We’ve achieved stable flight for the moment.”

“Copy that. Coast guard has been advised and is sending a cutter if you have to put it down in the water.”

“Copy that.” I glanced at Lydia. “Throttle up.”

“Raider 3 to Air Force One, your plane has been swept clean of the… uh… gremlins,” one of the F-22 pilots, flying in formation with us, reported. “Be advised, you are missing the port elevator, and I see a lot of damage to your flaps. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Raider 3.”

Ten years of flying planes and training in simulators, and I’d never thought I’d actually have to worry about gremlins ripping my plane apart. If it wasn’t for all my training, I would be falling apart right now. I glanced at my copilot; she was as pale-faced as I felt.

I keyed up the PA, and said to the passengers and my God, “We’re heading to Anchorage for an emergency landing. It’s twenty minutes out. We may be ditching in the ocean.”

Things went relatively smoothly for the next ten minutes. My heart never once stopped hammering as my eyes kept checking the PFD and EICAS panels every second. My hands grew sore and my palms chaffed as I fought to keep the plane level. I could see the coast ahead. We were getting nearer and nearer to Anchorage.

To safety.

And then came a loud, shuddering clunk. Warning lights flashed above: fire in engine one. Lydia quickly pulled the fire extinguisher and feathered the engine. I couldn’t take my hands off the yoke, or we’d pitch down into the ocean.

The last engine whined, damaged by those fucking gremlins. We slowed down. The whine seemed to grow worse and worse. “The intake fan blades must have been damaged,” I muttered. “Maybe a piece of the wing had been sucked inside.”

“Just has to last us another seven minutes,” Lydia said. “We’re almost there.”

I nodded, watching the coast of Alaska grow larger and larger, the Alaska Range towering beyond, white and gray above the green forest. Then we crossed over land, coming closer and closer to safety at Anchorage.

Engine four gave one last, loud whine, then went silent. A deathly quiet stole over the cockpit for a heartbeat. The only sounds were the many warning alarms.

“Are we gliding?” Lydia asked.

“Yes. Pitch for glide,” I ordered automatically.

Lydia reached for the hydraulic controls and extended the flaps, maximizing our wing surface as we glided towards the airport. It was all up to inertia now. If we had enough air speed we could make it to the airport.

Our altitude started dropping faster.

“There’s the airport,” Lydia reported.

I keyed the radio, “Air Force One to Anchorage Tower.”

“We see you, Air Force One,” the tower controller radioed. “You’re coming in a little shallow. Recommended you throttle up a bit.”

“We are deadstick, Anchorage.” No engines, no power.

“Well… uh… good luck, Air Force One.”

“Gears down,” I ordered Lydia.

She hit the controls. Waited. “Gears down.”

The ground was rushing up fast. The calm, monotone computer’s voice announced our Above Ground Level: “500. 400. 300. 200.”

I glanced at the PFD; our airspeed was 173 knots. Too fast. It would be a rough landing. Since we were coming in shallow, I wasn’t sure if we would land on the runway, or in the grass before it, so I couldn’t afford to slow down.

“Assume brace position,” I ordered through the PA.

“100. 50. 40.”

I flared the plane and we touched down hard, the yoke jerking in my grasp. We both flipped the air brakes while jamming down on the brake pedal. The plane squealed across the runway, tires smoking. The terminal grew larger and larger ahead.

My stomach tightened. We weren’t slowing down enough. We didn’t have the engines, so there were no reverse thrusters to help slow us down. And the end of the runway was coming up fast.

A loud, metallic, shearing sound shivered through the fuselage. The plane lurched suddenly to the left and off the runway. The plane’s wheels hit the field. The front landing gear folded and the nose dropped, punching into the ground. Clods of dirt and grass flew up like the bow wave before a ship. Then we came to a shuddering stop.

“I think we’re alive,” Lydia breathed. She looked out her window. “Holy shit! Half the right wing sheared off.”

I swallowed. That’s why we lurched left. With only the left wing providing drag, it yanked us over hard. If the right wing had failed while we were still airborne, we would all have died. I let go of the yoke. My hands shook as I massaged my palms.

Off in the distance, sirens blared, rescue coming.

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!