The Battered Lamp Chapter 11: The Heart of the Warrior

 

 

The Battered Lamp

Chapter Eleven: The Heart of the Warrior

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Teen Male/Female/Teen Females, Teen hermaphrodite/Teen female, Male/Teen Female, Magic, BDSM, femdom, Sex Toy, Spanking, Orgy, Non-consensual

For a list of all the Battered Lamp Chapters click here, and for the Devil’s Pact click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated. To contact me, you can leave a comment or email me at mypenname3000@mypenname3000.com.



Click here for Chapter 10.



Note: Thanks to b0b for being my beta reader.

Wednesday, January 22nd

“I wish my sister was healed!” Kyle demanded, cradling Fatima’s head on his lap.

Aaliyah closed her eyes, shuddering, “It’s an enchantment. It’s beyond the scope of my power.”

“So you could heal her if she was hurt?”

She shook her head. “Healing isn’t hearth or harem.”

“And neither is breaking a spell?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried, but my father’s commands still restrict my powers.”

“So disobey him! You come from some old-school culture. Shouldn’t your husband supersede your father?”

“But my father is the Sheikh of the Jann Tribe. His word carries the weight of law.” A tear ran down her dusky cheek. “I am so sorry, my love.”

Kyle stroked his sister’s forehead. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to leave, Kyle. And we cannot leave any evidence we were here,” Britney calmly said, her hand gripping Phillipa Stoddard’s shoulder, forcing the Witch to stay on her knees.

Kyle looked up from his sleeping sister’s side. “What?”

“We cannot stay here, Kyle. Our fight was loud and noisy. Even as remote as this cabin is, people must have seen the light from the Elemental and heard it’s roar. We cannot leave any evidence behind. Look around. There are four dead here. We killed them. The police will investigate.”

“Right,” Kyle nodded, taking a deep breath. His sister-wife barely seemed to be breathing and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

“She’ll be fine, my love,” Aaliyah whispered, kneeling on the opposite side. “We can do nothing for her now. And we cannot help her if we’re under arrest.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess we need to wipe down fingerprints and stuff.”

Aaliyah cocked her head, using her powers to understand what he said. “Right. Leave that to me.” With a wave of her hand, dust in the cabin formed into little, squat men that set about scrubbing the house. “There,” she nodded.

“The outside shouldn’t be that bad, it a mess out there,” Kyle said, standing up. “I’ll go get my car and…” His face fell; his car was wrecked. “That’s going to be a problem.”

“Not really,” Fumi said; his Japanese girlfriend leaned against the doorway. “You can just have the earth swallow it up like you did with the bear.”

“So how are we getting out of here then? We can’t call for a cab, and we don’t want to leave any traces we were here.”

“How did you get here, Phillipa?” questioned Britney.

“I drove,” the girl muttered, looking at the floor. “My car’s parked around back. With the…” she swallowed, glancing at the corpses of Ms. Franklin and Rashawn. “With their cars.”

“Then we’ll crowd her car to get home,” Fumi said “Best to leave no evidence she was ever here as well.”

“Do we bury their bodies?” Aaliyah asked.

Kyle glanced at Ms. Franklin and shuddered. He had killed her in the heat of the moment, but seeing her cooling body lying next to her decapitated head disturbed him. “No. They deserve to be found. Think of their families.”

“What do we do about Sable?” Britney asked. “I can keep one witch in check, but not two. Perhaps we should just slit her throat. What is one more body?”

Aaliyah and Kyle both gave Britney a horrified glance. He thought he had known his best friend, but there was a dark side to her. “No. That’s wrong. Aaliyah, I’ll wish her to be one of my harem.”

Aaliyah concentrated, then frowned. “It didn’t work.”

“Our amulet’s protect us,” Phillipa answered, “from such blatant domination. Hecate is a jealous goddess.”

“Fine, I’ll go take hers off,” Kyle said, standing up.

He walked outside the cabin. Sable was gone. His stomach sank; he had left her lying right there unconscious. Fumi stepped up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Something was clutched in her other hand; an envelope.

“We can’t stay long, Kyle,” she whispered. “She’s gone. We need to clean up fast. Let’s go take care of your car.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the letter.

She held it up to him. “From Christy. She gave me this before she left.”

Emotions tangled inside of him. Aaliyah was safe, and he wanted to try and forgive Christy, he still loved her, but she had betrayed them. He needed to talk to her, to try and figure out this mess. His mouth tasted like ash; he took the envelop and stuck it in his back pocket.

“Let’s take care of my car,” he sighed.

His car still was on the bridge, crashed into the side. Bits of broken glass and plastic strew across it the wooden deck and antifreeze filled the air with a sweet-sickly smell and dripped through the gaps in the wood.

“We have to move it,” Kyle said.

“Put it in neutral and release the parking brake,” Fumi said. “I’ll move it.”

Kyle glanced at her bow, nodded, and quickly followed her instructions.

Fumi held her bow up; green light flared in the metal. Wind rushed around them and seemed to grow and swirl around the car, whipping into a vortex. Small debris skittered across the ground, then slowly spun about into the air. Metal groaned, the car shifted as a small tornado swirled about it. His girlfriend focused hard, her eyes narrowing and sweat beading her forehead. The car gave another groan, then rolled backwards.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” Fumi answered, her voice tight with strain.

The car kept rolling backwards, the bridge swaying as the wind whipped about its trusses. Kyle’s stomach lurched and he hoped Fumi didn’t dump them into the river below. But he had faith in her. His car reached the gravel road and she kept pushing it until the entire car rested on the road, then the wind dissipated, debris raining down.

“That was hard,” she gasped.

Kyle hugged her, lifting her up and spinning around. She smelled so wonderful, like lilies and his cock hardened. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her as his hand grasped her breasts. He had to fuck her right now. His cock was a slab of steel. His mind screamed some warning, but that didn’t matter; Fumi was so lithe and—

“No!” she shouted, pushing away. “No, Kyle!”

He gasped for air, his face flushed as she backed away. “Right,” he muttered, regaining some control over himself. “I don’t want to die.”

She flinched. “I’m sorry.” Tears ran down her eyes. “In the morning, I’m going to find that spirit Fatima told me about, Niqualmie, and see if there is a way we can be together that way.”

“And if there’s not?”

“We’ll never see each other again.” A sob escaped her and tears ran down her cheeks. “I can’t take the chance of losing control and killing you, Kyle.”

Another thing taken from him. Christy’s gone, Fatima’s unconscious, and now Fumi was leaving, maybe forever. “Let’s bury the car,” Kyle grunted, turning away and concentrating on his sword. The ground opened up, his car disappeared, crashing into the pit. Fumi sent a wind to blow all the small pieces of his car down into the thirty-foot deep hole, then he closed it up.

Neither noticed the license plate lying in the shadows of one of the bridge’s trusses

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Britney pulled Phillipa’s car in front of Kyle’s home.

“My mom’s going to kill me,” Kyle muttered, opening the door. He grabbed his little sister’s unconscious form, cradling her gently in his arms. He did love her a lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Britney, if I still live.”

“You will,” she answered. “Good night.”

“Good night, Britney,” Aaliyah whispered, then followed her husband towards the house.

Britney pulled the car away, glancing over at Phillipa sitting in the passenger seat, her hands tied in front of her and a gag about her lips. For the first time in her life, lust stirred Britney’s cock as she gazed at the fearful witch.

“You are my prize,” Britney cooed, reaching over to cup her Phillipa’s round face, turning her so she could gaze at her beautiful, hazel eyes. “I will treasure you, once you have been trained properly.”

A shiver passed through Phillipa and Britney could smell the fear oozing off of her. That fanned her ardor more. She would enjoy bending Phillipa to her will.

Britney parked Phillipa’s car in her driveway, got out, and walked around the car to pull the witch out and led her to the front door. She quickly unlocked her doors and ushered the bound girl inside her house before anyone saw.

“What is going on?” gasped her human mom. “Why are you bringing home a tied up girl, Britney?”

“What is all the ruckus, Franny,” her Rakshasa mother asked, sauntering in like a graceful lioness from the kitchen, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Our daughter has brought home a tied-up girl,” huffed Mom. “Look at the poor thing, Abigail, she’s scared.”

“She is my prize,” Britney answered, stroking the girl’s cheeks.

“Ahh,” her Mother nodded, understanding in her green eyes. All Rakshasas had green eyes. “She is the one, Britney?”

“Yes, Mother,” she answered, stroking the bound Phillipa’s cheeks. “She is beautiful.”

“I will speak with Franny.”

“What is going on, Abigail?”

Her mother placed a comforting arm around her mom’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on the cheeks. “You know how we work. I took you as my prize, and our daughter has taken this girl as hers.”

“You didn’t tie me up!”

“I would have if you were not so willing,” purred Mother, then she licked Mom’s cheek. “Come on, I need satisfaction. Let us leave our daughter to her fun.”

“Okay,” Mom meekly answered, and let herself be led upstairs.

Her bedroom was on the first floor, and Britney marched Phillipa through the living room and a short hallway to reach it. Her room was neat and orderly, and she shoved the bound girl onto her bed, then pulled off her dirty top and wiggled out of her pants; her cock rose up hard from her thick, brown bush. Instead of having a clitoris, Britney had a cock, though no balls, and beneath it was a fully functional pussy. Phillipa’s eyes were locked on her dick.

“Do you like it?”

Phillipa shook her head. “You will.” She licked her lips and the bound girl recoiled from her hunger; it made her cock harder.

Britney went to her closet, and pulled out a plain, cardboard box. Phillipa’s fear grew as Britney took out the objects one at a time: a leather flail, a wooden paddle, a carefully coiled hemp rope, nipple clamps, pink-furred handcuffs, a ball gag, a butt plug, a leather collar, iron rings, and piercing needles. Britney savored the scent of her fear, aching to stroke her cock and finger her pussy.

Not yet.

“I have been dreaming of the day when I found my prize,” Britney purred. “I would never have thought it would be you, Phillipa. But seeing you shivering in fear awakened something inside me.”

She walked to the girl, removing her gag.

“What are you going to do to me?” shivered Phillipa.

“I’m going to break you and tame you.”

She untied Phillipa’s bounds. The girl tried to run; Britney’s hand shot out and grasped the girl by the shoulder, yanking her back to the bed. Then she ripped the girl’s blouse, the fabric easily tearing beneath Britney’s strength.

“Help!” Phillipa cried. “Someone, help me!”

“No one can hear you,” purred Britney. “Well, my mothers can, but they will not help you.

Britney admired her round breasts with upswept, pink nipples. Then she tore the pants off the girl, leaving her naked and trembling on her bed while she fetched the rope. She had always wanted to tie up a woman—she had seen her mother tie up her mom many times—and her hand trembled as she loped complicated knots around Phillipa’s legs, up her torso, around her breasts, squeezing them together—so pretty—then binding her arms to her side, her hands at the small of her back.

“You are such a gorgeous creature,” Britney purred, stroking her dark hair.

“Please,” sobbed Phillipa. “Let me go. I won’t tell.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I’ll curse you,” she hissed. “Hecate…”

Britney slapped her. “You will not pray to that foul goddess without my permission.”

She drew in her breath, glaring at Britney. So she slapped Phillipa harder, reddening her cheeks. A tear ran down the girl’s eyes.

“Will you submit and be my prize?” Britney asked.

“What does that mean,” she mumbled.

“I will take you as my mate and love you forever.”

“Fuck that!”

Slap!

“You will address me as Mistress until I tell you otherwise, Prize!”

“Bitch!”

Slap!

“I can keep this up all night.”

A sullen glare was her answer.

“Good.” Britney walked to her BDSM collection and picked up the nipple clamps. “Do you know what these are?” she asked, holding them up and working them open and close.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No…” Britney raised her hand. “…Mistress.”

“Nipple clamps,” Britney answered.

Hazel eyes widened. “Oh, no! You’re not going to?”

She gasped as Britney clamped the first one on her right nipple, squeezing the pink nub between the metal teeth. She screamed in pain when the second one clamped her left nipple. Britney smiled, and stroked her cock.

“Do you want me to take them off?”

“Yes!” moaned the girl. “Please! Please, Mistress!”

“Beg me to fuck you,” Britney answered.

“What?”

“Beg for me to stick my hard cock into your pussy,” Britney purred, tugging on a nipple clamp.

“Never!”

“Okay,” Britney smiled, and picked up a the ball gag. “Time for bed, I think.”

“You’re not going to take them off, Mistress?” sobbed the girl. “They hurt.”

“I know. Pain is a good conditioner.” Britney walked to the bed, the ball gag stretched between her hands. “Just ask me to fuck you, and they come off.”

“No! I’m not going to let some tranny freak fuck me!”

Britney grasped her chin, and pushed the ball gag towards her mouth.

“No, wait!” she begged. “Are you really going to make me sleep like this?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t need to gag me.”

“I cannot have you casting spells while I am sleeping.”

“But…” A tear leaked down her face. “How can I ask you to take off my nipple clamps if I’m gagged?”

“You mean, in the middle of the night, you might reconsider and want me to fuck you?”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“Then you better ask now, otherwise I am going to bed.”

Her lip quivered. “Please, Mistress.”

“Please, what?”

“Fuck me.”

“With my freaky, tranny cock?”

“Yes.”

“I am not a tranny,” Britney hissed, and pushed the ball gag towards her mouth. “I am a hermaphrodite.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” she begged. “Please fuck me with your wonderfully beautiful, hermaphrodite cock.”

Britney manhandled her onto her stomach and slapped her cute ass, mounting her prize.

“You said you’d take them off!” she protested. “Please, Mistress, they hurt.”

“After you have climaxed on my cock and made me orgasm,” Britney promised.

“That’s not—”

Britney slapped her perky ass. “I said I would remove them after you agreed, I did not say when I would remove them. Now if you are going to whine, I will insert the ball gag and you can stay like that all night.”

“I’m sorry.” Britney raised her hand to slap her ass. “Mistress!” she quickly squeaked.

“So you want me to fuck your cunt and, after we have both orgasmed, remove your nipple clamps?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she nodded.

Britney smiled, laying her naked body across Phillipa’s bound form, the hemp rope rough on Britney’s breasts and belly as she pressed her cock between the bound teen’s legs. It was tight between her thighs because of the bonds, and Britney shuddered as she slid between her legs trying to find her pussy.

“Fuck!” she snapped, growing impatient to taste her first pussy.

She grabbed a pillow, lifted Phillipa up, and shoved it beneath her belly. The teen’s pussy was visible peaking between her thighs, covered in a thick, black bush, and damp. Despite all her protests, Phillipa was responding to her helplessness. Britney inhaled deeply, delighting in all the wonderful fragrances that mixed together to form Phillipa’s unique scent of arousal.

Britney pressed forward, nudging her pussy lips; it felt so wonderful. She jabbed in; Phillipa let out a low moan. Britney had never experienced something so wonderful before. She had masturbated her cock before, but it paled compared to being wrapped around the tight, hot, and wet flesh of Phillipa’s sheath.

“Oh, my!” Britney growled, pumping away. “You like my cock inside you?”

“No,” moaned Phillipa.

“You love it! Do not lie to me!”

“I’m not!” she gasped.

“Then why are you so wet?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Britney pumped faster, her groin smacking into Phillipa’s cute rear. She licked her prize’s ear, and whispered, “You love the pain. I could sense it back at the cabin. You want to be used and abused, made to be someone’s bitch!”

“No! I’m not like that!” she protested.

Britney wormed her hand beneath the bound girl and found one of her nipple clamps. She pulled on the nipple; Phillipa gasped in pain; her cunt tightened about Britney’s cock. So wonderful. Britney kept pulling, taking delight in her moans of pain and pleasure, and the wonderful sensation of tight pussy squeezing on her pumping shaft.

“You are a pain slut!” Britney hissed. “My pain slut! My Prize!”

“I’m not!” she gasped. “Please, you’re hurting me!”

“You love it, pain slut!”

“No!”

Britney nipped her ear, pounding harder at her wonderfully tight cunt. She loved this bound girl. It was the nature of her species, and if she could break her and bend her fully to her will, she’d have a wonderful mate for the rest of her life.

She tugged harder on the nipple clamp. “Just admit how much the pain is driving your pussy crazy.”

“It’s not!” she gasped. “Oh, no! I’m not like…” Her words trailed off into a gasping moan, her cunt spasming around Britney’s cock.

“That’s it,” Britney hissed. “Cum on my cock, pain slut!”

“Oh, god!” she gasped, then collapsed.

“Good. That’s a good Prize!”

Britney sped up her thrusts, her orgasms building in the depths of her womb. She allowed herself to fully revel in the bound girl’s pussy, savoring the muscles rippling about her, the wet warmth hugging her, and the wonderfully tart scent on her hot cunt.

“Oh, yes! Here it comes! I am going to plant my baby in your belly. I cannot wait until your stomach is wide and round with our daughter!”

She buried into her prize and flooded her cunt with all her built up semen, gasping and savoring every last second of her first orgasm inside a woman’s pussy. She thrust again, making sure every last drop squeezed out.

“Umm, that was wonderful,” she purred.

“You said you’d take them off, Mistress,” she whimpered.

“I did.” Britney pulled out and flipped her over. “I am told it hurts even more when they come off as the blood flows back into them.”

She pulled the first one off; Phillipa howled and Britney savored those delightful yells. Then she removed the second one. She flipped her prize onto her belly, walking back to her S&M supplies. She grabbed the butt plug and wandered back to the bed.

She didn’t warn the girl and just shoved it up her ass. Phillipa’s gasping shriek was music to her ears. “I need you ready for my cock back there,” Britney whispered. “I am going to possess every part of you.”

“Please, Mistress,” she moaned. “I’ve never had anything up there before.”

“Good,” Britney purred as she shoved the ball gag into her mouth, securing it behind her head, then she turned the lights out and curled up to her prize. “I love you,” she whispered and fell asleep to Phillipa’s muffled sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His mother gave him one last glare before the EMT slammed the ambulance door. Fatima was inside, being rushed to the hospital, and Kyle’s mom was riding along with her, clutching her unconscious daughter’s hands.

When they walked into the house, his mom had been livid, standing in the wreckage of the door Britney had kicked in. “Kyle, you are—” She saw Fatima and a scream ripped from her throat.

While waiting for the ambulance, she screamed at Kyle for getting Fatima hurt, for sneaking out after he was grounded, and for the bullshit—her exact word—lie about Aaliyah being kidnapped by a coven of witches.

“It’ll be better in the morning,” Aaliyah whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, Master,” Shannon, one of his concubines, sighed. “We tried to convince her it was an emergency, but we didn’t know how to tell her…about everything.”

The other concubines—Alexina, Carla, and Chyna who belonged to Kyle, and Anne and Kayleah who belonged to Fatima—nodded. Anne and Kayleah looked particularly miserable, their mistress was on her way to the hospital.

“Yeah,” Kyle sighed. “I’m so tired. Everything’s just gone wrong.”

“You saved me,” Aaliyah whispered.

“Yeah. It only cost me my sister.”

Aaliyah flinched.

“Shit. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’m not sorry I rescued you.”

“It’s okay, Kyle. Come on, let’s go upstairs. It’ll seem better in the morning.”

“No, I have to do something first.” He pulled out his cell phone.

“Pierce County Sheriff’s office, how my I help you?”

“Yeah, my car was stolen,” he said.

“And what is the license plate.”

He told her, surprised he could remember it and she read back the color, make, and model.

“That’s it,” he agreed.”

“When was it stolen?”

“I don’t know when. It was parked out front of my house when I got home from school around three-thirty. And now it’s missing.”

“Do you owe any money on the car?”

“No?” he frowned. “Why does that matter?”

“If you owed money and were late on payments, your car could have been repossessed.”

“No, it was paid off.”

“Okay. A detective will get back to you in a day or so. We can reach you at this number?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Kyle and his harem trooped upstairs to the expended space that was his bedroom. It was almost as large as the rest of the house, with rooms for Fatima, Aaliyah, Christy, and Fumi, plus the concubines each had their own tiny rooms, and there was Kyle’s large bedroom with the largest bed he had ever seen that everyone seemed to want to sleep on.

“It seems bigger,” Kyle said, glancing at Aaliyah.

“I think we all want to be with you tonight,” his wife smiled.

He glanced at the six concubines all unrobing. “I’m not sure I’m up to that much debauchery tonight.”

“Of course not,” Aaliyah whispered. “We just want to be close to you, right ladies.”

A chorus of yeses and yeahs answered his wife.

It was sweet, and Kyle felt a smile ghost on his lips for a moment. He pulled his shirt off and it vanished before the grimy shirt could hit the floor—Aaliyah’s work. He unbuttoned his pants and paper crinkled.

Christy’s letter.

Swallowing, he pulled it out and opened it.

To my love, Kyle

I have grievously wronged you, Aaliyah, and Fatima with my actions. I know there is no taking back the crimes I have committed. I was confused and jealous and didn’t tell you the problems I was going through. These aren’t excuses; I made a bad choice, and now I have to live with the consequences.

I loved you so much that I ended up losing you. I didn’t even try to understand this new relationship you had forged with your other wives and wished to share with me. I was selfish and wanted you all to myself. I can never forgive myself the mistakes I’ve made. Hopefully it is not too late to save Aaliyah. Either way, this is the end for our journey together.

I have made a pact with Hecate that I must break free of, and I may not survive the attempt. Either way, I will not be returning. I will not intrude on your joy or grief. Know that I will always love you, Kyle, and I hope one day you can forgive me, though I doubt I can ever forgive myself.

Your wife forever,

Christy

The damn broke inside Kyle; tears flowed. “How did this happen?” he sobbed. “Yesterday I woke up with four women I loved, and now only one remains.”

“Christy isn’t coming back?” Aaliyah asked gently.

“She thinks I hate her. That I can’t forgive her.” He looked at Aaliyah. “Do you forgive her?”

“I…understand her,” she answered. “But…”

Kyle laughed. “Of course. She betrayed you, betrayed me. So why can’t I stop loving her? Why can’t I just hate her?”

“The heart is never simple, Master,” Chyna whispered, sitting on the other side of Kyle and resting her head on his shoulder. “You can’t help whom you love.”

“Would you hate me if I wished her back?”

“No, my husband,” Aaliyah answered. “I would do it for you.”

“And could you share your bed with her? Or would you be at her throat for her betrayal?”

“I don’t know. She hurt me. They hurt me.” She turned her head away. “Maybe my heart will heal in time.”

“I guess I can’t ask for anything more,” he sighed, then cupped her cheek. “You’re the only wife I have left. We’re going to have to be careful.”

She touched his cheek. “You will be protecting me.”

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her lithe form against his chest. Her lips found his, soft and soothing, and his grief receded in his wife’s embrace. She pulled him down atop her, spreading out beneath him, her kisses growing more heated. Chyna nuzzled their side, her hand tracing the muscles of his back while her lips caressed his shoulder. Alexina slid in on the other side, pressing her petite body against them.

A hand grasped his cock—Alexina’s—and she guided him to Aaliyah’s sheath. He penetrated his Genie wife; she moaned into his lips, writhing her hips against his thrusts. Nothing mattered but his wife and his concubines. All of the grief could wait for morning; tonight he was going to celebrate the one good thing that had happened.

He had saved Aaliyah.

“Make love to her, Master,” purred Chyna. “You two are so beautiful together.”

Alexina’s hand cupped his balls as he pumped slowly into his wife. “We love you both,” Alexina whispered. Her thighs wrapped around his leg, her wet pussy and damp pubis rubbed against him.

“We are so glad you’re back,” purred Shannon. The bed dipped, and someone crawled up behind him. A tongue licked at his shaft where it merged with Aaliyah’s sheath.

“You’ll always have us,” Carla declared, and he felt her push in beside Shannon, her lips kissing the cheeks of his ass, her tongue moving around between his butt cheeks, and then he groaned as she rimmed his asshole.

“Immortality awaits them all,” Aaliyah crooned, “when you take the Sultanate and rule the Djinn.”

“Sounds heavenly,” Chyna moaned, her mouth teasing his ear.

Kyle pumped faster, tongues licking him everywhere, hands running across his skin, and Aaliyah writhed wet and lithe beneath him. Chyna’s large breasts floated before him, heavy and wonderful. He sucked her fat nipple into his mouth and Aaliyah engulfed the other.

“Oh, Master, Mistress!” gasped Chyna.

Carla’s tongue worked his ass, spurring him to fuck Aaliyah harder and harder as his orgasm built inside. Alexina’s hands massaged his balls, frothing his cum. The pressure grew and grew; his body tensed as the moment neared. He sucked hard on Chyna’s nipple, burying his cock into Aaliyah’s pussy, and flooded her with his semen.

“Oh, Kyle!” Aaliyah moaned. “Share your love with me!”

He drew back and drove into her again, another spurt of cum flooding her. He groaned around the nipple in his mouth, and drove in one last time, crushing his groin against her hard clit. A low, throaty moan escaped his wife’s lips, and she shuddered beneath him.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she panted. “Oh, thank you, my husband.”

He released Chyna’s nipple, leaned down and kissed his wife.

Surrounded by feminine delights, Kyle closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had the girl’s scent.

Something had gone very wrong tonight. The cabin was a complete mess, and Celestite and three of her witches were dead. He needed to know what had happened. He had quickly found one scent leading off alone into the woods full of feminine fear.

He loped through the woods, moving easily in the form of a wolf. He loved the freedom of assuming his totem’s form. Shaman magic had it’s place, though not as powerful as witchcraft, you could not assume an animals form through any invocation.

Whomever had fled into the woods was lost, traveling in circles and that made the task more difficult. Her scent kept crossing itself, and that made it harder to choose the right direction. He may have the senses of a wolf, but not the instinctive knowledge they had at scent processing. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t moving fast, and he quickly found her huddled on a log, crying.

She screamed when he padded up, and fled. He leaped, tackling her to the ground, biting her with his teeth, not hard enough to penetrate her skin, but enough to keep her from running. He needed answers not a corpse.

He let himself change, his body growing fluid as bones, skin, organs, and muscles reshaped themselves until he lay atop her, naked and hard, excited by the way she trembled beneath him. He flipped her over and her eyes widened.

“Principal Burke?” gasped Tourmaline.

“Yes,” he smiled, spreading her thighs. The mask of the Principal wasn’t his true identity; he didn’t mind revealing it to the confused witch. She was naked and, even smeared with dirt, she was lovely with her Mediterranean coloring and long, black hair. He had fucked her before, but always under Celestite’s trance.

He shoved his dick into her, savoring her youth. A gasp escaped her lips, and she struggled beneath him. So wonderful; he loved it when a girl resisted. He pinned her arms down, thrusting slowly, and licked the tear that leaked out of her eyes.

“What happened tonight?” he demanded.

“What?” she gasped.

“Celestite, Onyx, Garnet, and Opal are all dead,” he growled, thrusting harder.

“Why are you doing this, Principal?” she sobbed.

“Answer me! What happened tonight? Why is Celestite dead?”

“How do you know that name?”

“She’s part of my coven,” he growled.

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Where did yo think she learned it,” he growled. “I broke her, molded her, and gifted her with power. And I can give it to you.”

A hungry look blossomed in her eyes. “You can give me the power to kill Christy?”

“Amber?” he asked, using her coven name.

“Yes.”

“I can.” So Amber betrayed us. Love ever makes women weak.

“Then I’m yours, Master!” she whispered, and then her hips started moving. “Kyle came! He had weapons. So I unleashed a Maniae. And it was going fine, but Christy showed up and wrenched it out of my control and put it to sleep.”

“Then she’ll have to pay for her treachery,” he promised. “Hecate, dark goddess of magic, I accept Tourmaline into my coven! Do you swear to obey me?”

“I do!” she panted

Power flooded her, far more than she had accessed beneath Celestite’s tutelage.

“Yes!” she screamed, cumming on his cock! “Give it all to me!”

He grunted and grabbed her nipple, twisting hard. She screamed; he came.

“Let’s go,” he growled, standing up.

He led Tourmaline back to his car, tossing her a blanket from his trunk while he dressed. His phone rang. “Hello,” he said, slipping into his friendly principal role.

“Sorry to call so late,” Faiza Unmei said.

He grinned; Kyle’s mother was the perfect tool to get back at the little bastard. “I was up anyways,” he answered. “What’s wrong.”

“How did you know?”

“You wouldn’t be calling me this late if everything was fine.”

“Right. I’m at the hospital. Something happened to my daughter, and…well, Kyle…” She gave an exhausted sigh. “I can’t make our date tomorrow. How about we reschedule for next week. Maybe things will have calmed down.”

“We don’t have to,” he answered, playing the nice guy card. Patience was needed at this critical moment. He could not afford to alert Kyle to the threat he posed until he was certain he could destroy the youth. Ms. Franlkin had rushed and paid dearly for that mistake.

“No, no. I promised you a date.” She sighed again. “I need a break from all of this. It might just be the thing to take my mind off everything.”

“I know just how to make you forget,” he grinned, his cock hardening at all the possibilities he could have with her.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 12.

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

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