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Der Pakt mit dem Teufel Kapitel 20: Die Prüfung

 

 

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel

Kapitel 20: Die Prüfung

Von mypenname3000

Übersetzt von Horem

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Male/Female, Teen male/Teen female, Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Male/Females, Male/Teen male/Teen female, Mind Control, Female Domination, Orgy, Magic, Anal, Oral, Rimming, Ass to Mouth, Ass to Pussy, Incest

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.



Click here for Kapitel 19



Als Mark das Bett verließ, riss er mich aus meinem Traum. Ich hatte diesen Traum immer wieder. Meine Mutter, diese Hure hatte uns nicht verlassen und wir lebten alle glücklich als eine Familie zusammen. Und dann kam dann immer dieser Moment der Enttäuschung, wenn ich wach wurde und erkannte, dass es nur ein Traum gewesen war. Meine Mutter war wirklich weggelaufen, um mit diesem Musiker rumzuhuren. Zorn stieg in meinem Bauch auf, also drängte ich die Gedanken an meine Mutter mit Gewalt zurück. Die vergangene Nacht war fantastisch gewesen und ich fühlte mich immer noch gut. Ich wollte mir den Tag mit derartigen Gedanken nicht verderben. Sie hatte sich nicht um mich gekümmert, warum sollte ich also meine Gedanken an sie verschwenden.
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The Devil’s Pact Chapter 53: The Fall of Rome

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 53: The Fall of Rome

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Males/Females/Teen female, Male/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Orgy, Wedded Lust

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 52.



My name is Chasity Alberta Glassner, the Tyrants’ daughter. I write these words down so my motivations will not be lost to time, and so there will be no confusion, speculation, or misunderstanding about my actions.

–Excerpt from ‘The Tyrants’ Daughter: An Autobiography’ by Saint Chasity Alberta Glassner

Mark Glassner – May 9th, 2053

“I’m ready, Grandpa,” little Liza smiled at me.

Well, she wasn’t really that little at fifteen. She was my youngest grandchild, daughter of Marcelo and Calypso. The other grandparents, Alison and Desiree, watched happily as dusky-skinned Liza stretched out on the bed in a frilly, pink nightgown, her lush body peaking invitingly through the sheer fabric.

“I want you to be my first,” Liza cooed.

“You won’t regret it, mi Florecita,” Desiree beamed. Her arms were wrapped around our son Marcelo.

“Master knows how to use his cock,” laughed Alison.

“Yes, he does,” giggled Calypso. She was perched on her mother’s lap, her honey-brown hair, a slightly lighter shade then Alison’s, falling in a thick braid between her breasts. Alison leaned down, and licked our daughter’s nipple with her pierced tongue, then sucked the pink nub into her lips. “Umm, that’s nice, mom.”

“After I’ve made you a woman, are you sure you want to be bound to me?” I asked my granddaughter, sitting on the bed, my hand stroking her thigh.

“I want to lick your cum out of Great-Nana’s cunt,” Liza smiled.

“Just call me Nana,” my mom scolded. “You make me feel so old.”

My mom was a beautiful, mature woman. When I bound her in her early forties, her beauty had just ripened into its lush fullness, and she still looked the same, her body trim, her breasts just starting to sag. Mary cuddled up to my mom on a love seat, stroking my mother’s beautiful tits.

Liza rolled her eyes, “You’re ancient Nana. Like in your eighties. But you still look beautiful.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” my mom smiled, “and I’ll forget that you called me old.”

Mary gave her tit a squeeze. “You are definitely not old with a pair of tits like this, Sandy.” Then my wife bent down and sucked a pink nipple into her lips.

In a month, Mary and I would have been married forty years. She was fifty-nine, but still looked as youthful, and as beautiful, as they day we met. None of us had aged. Mary and I due to our Gifts, and our families due to the Zimmah ritual. Calypso and Marcelo still looked sixteen, Alison seventeen, and Desiree twenty-seven.

I stretched out beside Liza, a bit of apprehension in her eyes. “It’ll be okay,” I told her, bending down to gently kiss her tiny lips. She relaxed, kissing me back eagerly.

She wasn’t a bad kisser. I knew she’d played kissing games with her two older cousins Matt and Tamara, my two other grandchildren by my son Silas and his two wives. I let my hand touch her silk nightie, sliding up her side to grope her small breasts. After tonight, she’d be an A cup and fifteen for the rest of her life.

Her breast felt firm, her nipple hard, then I slipped my hand inside her bodice and felt her warm flesh directly. She shuddered delicately as I groped her small tit. Her kiss grew passionate, her tiny hands reaching out to feel my muscular chest, then sliding down to hesitantly grasp my hard cock. She traced my length up to the mushroom-shaped head. Her fingernail scraped my sensitive flesh; a shudder passed through me.

“Oh, Sandy,” I heard Mary moan.

I broke the kiss to see that my mother had slipped to the floor and had buried her face into my wife’s waxed pussy. Mary smiled at me, squeezing her freckled breasts and savoring my mother’s tongue in her pussy.

They weren’t the only family members making love. Desiree had mounted our son, his hard cock sliding into his mother’s cunt. Marcelo had his face buried in her pillowy breasts as her plump ass flexed as she rode him. Calypso sat next to her husband on the divan, squeezing Marcelo’s hand as Alison went down on her. Our daughter had gathered a handful of Alison’s honey-brown hair, pulling her mother’s face into her cunt. I sometimes missed Alison’s pink hair. It had been thirty years, I think, since she stopped dying it.

“Don’t forget about me, Grandpa,” Liza pouted.

“Sorry, but don’t they all look so happy?”

Liza giggled. “They do. We have the best family in the world. All of us loving each other, and…”

Her voice trailed off; she must have seen the pain in my face. My family wasn’t whole; I hadn’t seen my daughter Chase in sixteen years. She was the only child Mary and I ever had. Sure, we had other children with the sluts, but she was special. She was ours. Sometimes I would go days without thinking about her, and then I would be reminded about her and the pain would come crashing back. We did something to our daughter, something that disgusted her so much that she wanted nothing to do with us.

I think she found out the truth about us.

It was easy to forget that we were human when everyone worshiped us as their Gods. But we weren’t; my wife and I were just regular humans that sold our souls and made the most of it. But Chase was such an idealist, poisoned by some book she had read. Mary kept saying she’ll come back, we have eternity, we can be patient and let her work it out. After sixteen years, I was losing faith that I would ever see her again.

“Sorry, Liza,” I said, turning back to my beautiful, and very nubile, granddaughter. I slipped one of the straps of her pink nightie off her shoulder, pushing it down her arm. A dusky breast and a brown nipple was exposed. I couldn’t resist, and bent down and captured the hard nub, enjoying the feel of it between my lips.

“Umm, Grandpa!” Liza cooed as I sucked. “That feels wicked!”

My hand slid down her body as I worshiped her nipple, pulling up the hem of her nightie, and found her dripping, shaved cunt. I stroked around her labia, her sighs and coos filling my ears. Her body jumped as I slid a finger into her hot depths, finding her hymen. I had to taste her. I moved down her body, spreading her thighs, and inhaled her tangy honey.

“Holy shit!” she gasped as my tongue slid through the furrow of her pussy.

“You are in for a treat!” Mary purred. “Your grandfather gives the best head, for a man.”

My tongue found her clit. My granddaughter jumped, her thighs pressing tight about my head. Her fingers rubbed through my hair, gripping me as I worshiped her hard nub. Her hips started moving as I sucked, her sighs transforming into moans, loud and throaty.

“Oh, Grandpa!” she groaned. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! I’m gonna cum! Oh, fuck, this is so much better than my fingers.”

“I want to see you cum,” Calypso panted. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum. Let’s cum together, baby girl!”

“Yes, momma!” Liza moaned. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fucking yes!”

Calypso gasped, cumming on Alison’s hungry lips, as Liza’s orgasm seemed to explode through her. So much juice shot out of her pussy, I thought she was going to rocket right off the bed. Her enthusiasm seemed to set everyone else off; I heard Mary’s beautiful cries of passion, and Desiree’s rapture came out in her musical Spanish.

I kissed my way up my granddaughter’s body, nipping her nipple, before I reached her lips and let her taste herself. “Umm, I taste wonderful,” she giggled.

“Yes, you do, Liza,” I told her, then kissed her a second time.

“Grandpa?” she asked, apprehension returning to her hazel eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Can I be on top?”

I smiled, and rolled us onto my back. Her light body pressed atop me, lithe as she wiggled about. My cock ached to bury into her. Deflowering virgins was something I lived for. Every day, a pretty virgin out in the world won the lotto and was brought to me, eager to have a God make a woman out of her.

Mary stretched out beside me, a flushed, satisfied smile on her face, then she bent over and gave me a brief kiss. “Go slow, Liza,” she advised. “Don’t just jam your pussy on his cock. Let yourself stretch and give.”

“Yes, Grandma,” Liza said. Mary wasn’t technically her grandmother, but we had an unusual family.

Desiree slid on the other side of her, stroking Liza’s leg. “You’ll love his cock, mi Florecita.”

“I know I will, Abuela.” Liza answered, then bent down, and gave Desiree a passionate kiss.

Alison pressed up behind Desiree, nuzzling her wife’s neck. “I’m horny, wanna make me cum?”

Desiree rolled over. “I always do, mi Sirenita.”

“Oh, yes!” my mother moaned; Calypso had knelt before her, spreading her grandmother’s thighs and burying her face between her legs. Marcelo knelt behind his wife, and buried his cock into Calypso’s cunt; his eyes fixed on my mother’s breasts.

I was lost watching my son and daughter fuck my mother, but Liza’s pussy lips brushed my cock, bringing my attention back to her. Her weight slowly slid down my cock, engulfing me in warm, wet pleasure. She was tight the way only a virgin could be, her pussy stretching for the first time before a hard cock. She slid a few inches into her pussy, then stopped as I nudged her cherry.

She took a deep breath, “Here goes nothing.” Then she relaxed her thighs, letting her weight pull her down on my cock. Her hymen gave, bending before my cock, and then it snapped. She gasped in pain as her weight drove her pussy all the way onto my cock.

“I told you to go slow,” Mary said, sliding up behind the girl. She pressed her naked body against my granddaughter’s back, kissing Liza’s dusky shoulder. Mary’s pale arms wrapped around the girl. One hand grasped an apple-sized breast, while the other stretched down to play with her clit.

Her cunt tightened on my cock as Mary’s fingers found her little pearl. “Umm, Grandma, that feels nice.”

Her hips started to move. “How’s the pain?” Mary asked.

“It’s vanishing,” she purred, rising up and down. “Umm, and it’s starting to feel absolutely wild!”

“Good.” Mary licked her neck, up to her ear. “Move your hips, and lean forward or back. It’ll change the way his cock slides into you. Find what feels best, then ride him hard, my little peach.”

She leaned forward, rolling her hips, eyes widening. “Oh, wow! I see what you mean.”

Mary ground her groin against my cute granddaughter’s ass. “Give my horny stallion a good ride!”

“I will! The best ride!” Liza boasted.

She gave me a spirited ride, almost as good as my naughty filly’s, but no-one was quite as good as Mary. Liza’s cunt was a tight glove as she rode me. She turned her head to make out with my wife over her shoulder. Mary’s fingers stroked her hard clit, giving Liza two hard cums. Her cunt spasmed delightfully on my cock each time, bringing my balls closer and closer to flooding her once virgin hole.

“Fuck, your pussy is tight!” I groaned. “You’re about to get your first load!”

“Yes, Grandpa! Flood my cunt!”

Alison and Desiree, their faces sticky with each other’s cum, watched eagerly. “Flood her filthy hole, Master!” Alison cheered.

“I’m going to lick your cum out of her pussy, mi Rey!”

“I want that, Abuela!” moaned Liza.

Every muscle in my body seemed to tense as she rode my cock. The friction sent my balls to boil, my entire body tensing as my release neared. With a grunt, I flooded my granddaughter’s cunt. She slammed down on my cock, grinding her clit into my groin, and shuddered as another orgasm ripped through her body.

“Now you’re a woman,” Mary whispered in her ear.

Liza beamed and Desiree helped our granddaughter dismount my cock. True to her word, my Latina slut buried her face in Liza’s messy cunt as my mother joined me on the bed. I fucked her doggy style, pounding her snatch, as she ate out Alison’s cunt. The slut grinned at me, playing with her pierced nipples. I could just see her tattoo above my mother’s head. “Cum on in,” it read, with an arrow pointing down at her pussy. I remembered the first time I saw that tattoo in the Hot Topic store. Mary had been in the back, I think, trying on clothes, while I fucked around with Lillian and Alison in the front of the store, ‘training them’.

I missed those days—things were simpler. Mary and I were just having fun, not a care in the world as we fucked whomever we wanted. We didn’t have our family though. Our children and grandchildren and, one day, great-grandchildren. Family is what’s important, and I loved to share these special times with them.

With a grunt, I flooded my mom’s cunt. Her pussy convulsed about my cock before she collapsed on the tousled bed, spreading her legs wide for Liza. My granddaughter knelt down, and buried her face in my mom’s pussy, taking a big swipe. I cast the Zimmah spell; energy flowed from mom into me and Liza, chaining her soul to mine. She shivered, grinned at me, then buried her tongue into my mom’s pussy.

“What a delightful granddaughter I have,” my mom groaned.

“Great-granddaughter,” Liza corrected, an impish grin her on sticky face. An incestuous mix of cum and pussy juices dripped from her chin.

Mom grabbed her head and shoved her face back between her thighs. “You owe me at least two cums for saying that, Liza!”

“Yes, Great-Nana,” came Liza’s muffled answer.

My cock stirred. My wife laughed, gave my cock a few stokes, then knelt behind Liza. She spread the teen’s asscheeks, revealing her puckered sphincter, and tongued her. Liza gave a squeal. My daughter Calypso nuzzled my crotch, and sucked my cock into her mouth as I watched my wife rim my granddaughter.

“She’s ready,” Mary smiled, Liza’s asshole gleaming with spit.

“Do you mind, dad?” Marcelo asked.

“No,” I laughed. “She’s your daughter.”

Marcelo mounted the bed, his hard cock nudging his daughter’s ass. Liza gave another squeal as he forced his cock into her bowels. He fucked her slowly, leaning over her and grunting softly. Mary smiled, then giggled as Desiree and Alison launched a two front assault on her. Alison wiggled between my wife’s thighs, while Desiree sucked on her tits.

Calypso’s mouth popped off my cock. “You can fuck my ass, Daddy.”

She knelt next to her daughter, wiggling her face down to share my mother’s pussy. Liza’s and Calypso’s faces pressed together, lips kissing each other as much as they worship my mother’s cunt. Calypso’s fair ass, as perky as Alison’s, wiggled at me, and I spread her open and plunged in.

Much later, Alison and Desiree, their children, and grandchild, retired to the sluts’ bedroom to continue their celebration. I lay in bed; my wife pressed on one side, my mother on the other. Mary’s hand idly played with my chest hair.

“How are things between you and Betty?” Mary asked my mom.

I could feel Mom tense; for the last few months I heard there was some friction between my mom and her wife. “Getting better,” Mom answered. “She’s almost forgiven me my indiscretion.”

“It was only one village girl,” Mary said dismissively. “Hardly worth her getting upset over. And those Latin women can be quite…feisty.”

“Betty isn’t as comfortable with an open relationship,” my mom answered. “She doesn’t mind if it’s within the family, but she made it clear to me years ago that anything else is cheating.” I saw hurt, self-loathing, and disgust flicker across my mom’s face. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for monogamy. I cheated on your dad, and Maria was hardly the first village girl that found her way into my bed. I get weak sometimes, especially when we’re apart.”

“She knows that you love her, right?” I asked my mom.

“Of course she does,” Mom sighed. “It’ll sort itself out.” She shifted, then casually asked, “And how is Chase doing?”

It was Mary’s turn to stiffen.

“Well. She spent some time in a village on the Jordan, but her relationship with a local boy seems to have fallen apart. She walked south into Saudi Arabia, following the coast,” I answered. “Quatch is keeping tabs on her since she’s in his territory.”

“Like that fat friend of yours is good for anything,” Mary muttered, just loud enough for me to hear her.

“What was that, Mare?” I asked.

“Hmm?” She had a look of innocence on her face. “I didn’t say anything, hun.”

“Right, you…”

The golden power, the Gift, buried deep inside my soul for these last forty years, was torn away. I screamed in pain at the sudden loss, writhing on my bed as a piece of my being left a ragged, bleeding hole in my spirit. Mary’s anguished cry barely penetrated the fog of pain. I collapsed back onto the bed, awash in agony that suffused my entire being.

And then it was gone. My breath came in ragged gasps. I felt a little more tired, a little sluggish, as I sat back up. My enhanced strength, my reflexes, my stamina, were gone. What just happened?

“Chereb!” I shouted, holding out my hand, expecting my Celestial blade to appear.

Nothing.

“What’s wrong!” Mom gasped, staring at the two of us.

“What just happened, Mark?” Mary demanded, face ashen.

A faint red outlined her body. I swallowed, concentrating, and her aura sprang up red. Not the bronze of a Shaman, but the red of a Warlock. Her emerald eyes widened as she stared back at me.

“It’s gone, Mark!” my wife sobbed. “Someone stole our Gift!”

A sinking feeling entered my stomach. What did that mean?

“I am completely baffled, sir,” Sam replied an hour later as our inner circle met in the Matmown in the mansion’s basement. It reeked of musk, and the air was thick with dust. We hadn’t needed the Matmown since the Demon Wars ended. “I didn’t think it was possible for the Gift to be stolen outside of the Ganubath ritual. And that didn’t happen, right?”

“Definitely not,” Mary snapped. “Someone’s attacked us.”

“Maybe we should reactivate the Legion, mi Rey,” suggested Desiree, Secretary of War.

“They’ve been disbanded for twenty-five years,” I sighed. “They’re all into their fifties and sixties. The only combat-ready troops we have are the Bodyguards. And they only number three hundred.” Thirty years of world peace had negated the need for soldiers, or even police officers. Everyone on the planet was under our command.

“We should warn the Districts,” 51, Chief of the Guard, said. “I’ll start recruiting more to the guard. We do have a class of fifty in training every year in case we have any losses from accident. We could easily do six classes a year. I’ll have the guard doubled by this time next year.”

“Do it,” Mary said.

“Let’s reactivate the Legion,” Alison added. “We can use them to train fresh soldiers..”

“How are we going to arm them?” Jacob, Secretary of the Treasury, asked.

Rachel, one of his wives, sat next to him and nodded her support. “We mothballed most military hardware decades ago, letting the materials be used for the restoration. There’s, what, a plant that manufactures small arms for the bodyguards? That’s it.”

“And there’s the matter of transporting so many troops,” Leah—Jacob’s second wife, and our Secretary of Transportation—said. “Our fleet of airplanes is not large enough to mobilize entire armies. And Boeing only has one manufacturing line anymore. It would take years to ramp up production to more than a few airplanes a year.”

“There are boats,” my son Silas, Assistant Secretary of Transportation, pointed out. “We have plenty of freighters.”

“Those are slow,” Leah countered. “If we need to move troops rapidly, that will not be good enough.”

“Master can make Portals,” Lillian, Secretary of Energy, stated. “And so can Mistress. We used them during the Demon Wars.”

“For small troop movements,” I said. “It takes too much time to move more than a battalion through Portals.”

“We’re forgetting one thing, Mark,” Mary whispered. “The Gift. You can’t use the Ragily prayer any longer. Do you even have the Legion’s loyalty anymore?”

My stomach sank; she’s right. “We can’t afford to arm anyone not bound by the Zimmah ritual. Anyone else could be turned by a nun.”

“Then we must be vigilant, Master,” Violet, Secretary of Agriculture, declared after a moment of silence. “We should let the clergy be our eyes and ears. There is a church with a priest or priestess in every community. We should rely on them to inform us if anything unusual happens. Otherwise, we may be jumping at smoke.”

Violet’s wife, Cindy, nodded in agreement.

“Violet’s right, Master,” Jessica threw in. “We have the entire world on our side. Even untrained, that is a lot of manpower we could hurl at the situation.”

“That’s a little cold, Jessica,” Korina, Secretary of Education, objected. “We can’t just throw defenseless men and women at the problem.”

“No, we can’t,” Mary firmly said.

In an emergency? I asked my wife telepathically. We strove never to contradict each other’s commands in public. In the first few years of our marriage, that had caused a small amount of friction.

Her eyes found mine. Perhaps in an emergency.

“That will only be a last resort,” I stated. Mary gave an agreeing nod.

“Maybe we should summon Karen?” Sam asked.

“It will have to be the old way,” I told her. “Without the Gift, I can’t summon all the ghosts to fight for me.”

A grimace flickered across Sam’s face. “Maybe you should do it, sir. You are stronger than us. Last time I did it…” She shuddered, and Candy patted her hand.

Unfortunately, Karen was equally baffled. All she could say was, “My sight has been obscured in this matter. Heavenly forces move once more, Master.”

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

June 6th, 2054 – Mark Glassner

It was after midnight when I stepped through the portal into the mansion. I had just left Paris. My little sister, Antsy, who administered Europe with Via, her wife, had captured a few agitators. The last few weeks, a strain had cracked across the Theocracy. People were snapping out of our control, questioning our authority, and trying to lure people to gatherings.

It was worrisome. It seemed a few Nuns were roaming the world, freeing Thralls. 51 had delivered on her promise, and had doubled the bodyguard. But six hundred wasn’t enough to police the world. And they were spread thin, a compliment protecting each of the fourteen Administrative Districts, protecting my Governors as well as the local Bishops who shepherded the faithful. Twenty-eight different places to guard, in addition to our Mansion and the Cathedral, the ecclesiastical center of the Church.

“My Lord,” Pearl bowed as I entered the mansion.

Pearl had been the Chief Maid since we had founded them forty years ago. Her charges curtsied as they welcomed me home. One took my jacket, damp with rain, while a second handed me a warm cup of tea. I admired all my maids’ practically exposed breasts beneath their transparent blouses, and fondled a pair, as I drank my tea. It warmed me up; Paris had been miserable, a fierce thunderstorm drenching the city.

“Where’s my wife?”

“Your bedroom, my Lord,” Pearl answered. “She was still up the last I knew.”

I handed the cup to Pearl, and strode through the mansion. The bodyguards that accompanied me to Paris all headed off to their barracks. One of them kissed a maid, her wife, with some passion, pulling the maid along with her.

A pair of bodyguards stood at attention flanking our suite’s door. They saluted; I gave them each a grope, bringing a smile to their faces, and went inside. A pair of maids leapt to their feet, curtsying, then helped strip me out of my wet clothes. I gave each a kiss and squeezed their naked asses, before opening the door to our bedroom.

“I thought you’d be asleep, Mare,” I said when I found her reading a book; one of the Twilight novels. I never understood how she could read that insipid trash over and over.

“I couldn’t sleep after returning from Honolulu,” Mary sighed. “While I was meeting with Alice and her husband, the bodyguards found ten of these…agitators. A Nun has definitely gotten her hands on them.”

I crawled into bed with Mary. I still had mixed feelings about Alice, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault for shooting me. And she had tried to get Mary to break-up with me. Well, I didn’t have to like my wife’s friends, even if one of them ruled Oceania for us.

I gave my wife a kiss and she snuggled up against me, her naked breast and hard nipple pressing against my muscular chest. “There’s definitely more than one Nun,” I told her. “The three agitators my sister caught were all exorcised from our control. And yet they resisted my power. Some new prayer is protecting them from my wish.”

“The same in Honolulu. So at least two nuns are out there,” Mary sighed. “One in Paris, and one in Hawaii. And that’s assuming one of them is Tina. Maybe Doug gave his gift to a woman?”

“I doubt Doug would let a woman murder him just to add one more nun into the world,” I pointed out.

“Right,” Mary nodded. “That stupid ‘forgive your killer’ clause the monks have. That still doesn’t make sense to me.”

When a Monk’s killed, he can choose to give his Gift to his killer. It’s the only way they can pass on their powers. It seemed ridiculous; how do you forgive your killer? That seems like the hardest thing in the universe to do.

“Anyway, I think I know what happened last year,” I told her. “The Gift was returned, and then given to new people. It was given once, it stands to reason it could be given again.”

“Have you been talking to Sam?” Mary asked, eying me suspiciously.

“Nope. I came up with this all on my own.”

“Sure,” she nodded.

“I did,” I protested.

“Fine. You figured this out all on your own. I believe you,” she giggled, then sighed and frowned. “Well, that would explain where these nuns are coming from. But how did they do it?”

“Well, Doug and Tina have the original copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, right?”

“I believe that’s what Maryām told me. It has been forty years, but I think that’s what she said.” Mary shifted. “That would mean there’s, what, one-hundred-and-forty-four new Monks and Nuns out there.”

“So why did they choose now to come crawling out of the rocks,” I groused. “What happened last year to change the status quo?”

Mary gave me a kiss, rubbing her body against me. “We can worry about that tomorrow. You do remember what today is?”

“What?” I asked, struggling to think.

“Why am I not surprised.” Mary rolled her eyes. “We met forty-one years ago, today. You made your Pact, then walked into my Starbucks and swept me off my feet.”

I smiled. “You were so beautiful as you stood trembling before me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I never read that book I found in the library. Would we even have met?”

“Yes,” Mary declared. “We’re soulmates. I talked to Azrael about that, years and years ago. Surely I told you?”

It was my turn to shake my head.

She gave me a look. “Are you getting senile in your old age? I’m sure I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, it was during the Baal-zebub campaign,” she shrugged. “I seem to recall that was pretty hectic.”

That was an understatement. Baal-zebub had retreated from his stronghold in Austria to Switzerland. It had been such a mess to break through those passes. I could still remember leading troops through Gotthard Pass, and the bloodbath at the Devil’s Bridge. Alison had broken the tide that day, leading her commandos up the cliff face without any climbing gear.

“Anyway, Azrael told me that Lucifer nudged you into summoning him, and that caused you to meet me a few weeks earlier. Apparently, I was going to catch my boyfriend cheating on me and then I’d bump into you and it all would have fallen into place.” She sighed. “I bet Chase wouldn’t have walked away if we were just normal people.”

Mary was right; if we were normal, Chase would never have run off. Too late for that now. We were in too deep. If we freed the world, they would be howling for our blood. Mary and I had worked too long and too hard to escape Hell, we weren’t about to lose it all now. Sure, I was immortal, but Mary could still be killed. She only was young and healthy as long as I was alive, but that wouldn’t save her from getting shot in the head.

I kissed my wife as we shared our grief. I pulled her atop me; her lithe body writhed atop me as we kissed, her perky breasts rubbing against my muscular chest. My hands slid down her supple back, down to her plump ass, and gave her cheeks a squeeze. My cock was iron hard, pinned between our stomachs. Our kiss grew more and more passionate.

“After forty-one years, you still excite me,” I told her, stroking her auburn hair.

She smiled, her cheeks cutely dimpled, and said, “Feel how wet I am for you.”

Her pussy was a faucet, drenching my hand in her sweet, spicy juices. Her hands found my hard cock; her hips rose up, and she engulfed me. I was sliding into my wife’s pussy, the place I loved to be. The best place in the world—inside my love. I cupped her left breast with my hand, enjoying the perky firmness as she slowly rose up my cock. I thumbed her nipples as she slid home; a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“My horny stallion,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against mine, her green eyes staring down with love.

“My naughty filly,” I whispered back, then grasped an auburn lock, pulling her face to mine, and kissed her tenderly as she slowly made love to me.

I let go of the stress of today, the uncertainty of our new foe, and the questions that churned inside of me. I let it all go until only my wife, and our fervent embrace, remained. I caressed her body, stoking her passions, while her pussy stoked mine. I kissed her fingers, sucked her nipples, and nuzzled at her neck, while her hips rose faster, adding twists and pivots that slid my cock through the silk of her sheath.

“Oh, Mare,” I groaned. “My sweet, beautiful filly. Cum for me! Let me feel your passion.”

“Yes, yes!” she panted as I stroked her thigh, feeling her toned muscles lift and lower her pussy on me. I thrust up to meet her, bouncing her up and watching her breasts rise and fall, her dusky nipples dancing through the air, a beautiful ballet. “Oh, Mark! Oh, my stallion!”

The ripples of her sheath on my sword were exquisite. The pleasure of her orgasm milked my cock, sending rapture surging through me. I clenched my teeth, driving up one last time into her sweet embrace, and spilled my love into her. Three large blasts of ecstasy.

“I love you,” she whispered, cuddling on my chest, my half-hard cock buried in her cunt.

I stroked her hair, kissed her forehead. “With all my heart, Mare.”

Mary’s breath grew shallow as she drifted off to sleep in my arms. I held her, enjoying the feel of her chest rising and falling, the warmth of her breath, of her body, on my chest, and the beat of her heart pounding in rhythm with mine. My eyes were heavy. I let them close, feeling safe in the embrace of my wife. We’d face this new problem together.

Like we always had.

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

Chase Glassner

I flashed into the cafeteria on a beam of pure light. Doug and Tina awaited, along with hundreds of men and women that had been freed from my parents’ tyranny. Around the world, seventy-one other pairs of Nuns and Monks had gathered similar groups, poised to lead their hundreds against the apparatus of my parents’ rule.

Today, we would free mankind.

Today, I would die with my parents.

For the last year we had prepared slowly. Each Nun exorcising clusters of Thralls in small communities, careful and cautious, while I coordinated everything. Holding onto all those one-hundred and forty-four gifts, if only briefly, had changed me. I could see the Light, and travel upon the heavenly rays like the Angels. When I spoke, people listened, and were swayed by my new-found eloquence, understanding me in their native tongues. I would speak English, but a Spaniard would hear Spanish; a Filipino, Tagalog; an Egyptian, Arabic. My words would protect them, armoring them against my parents’ words. A few had been captured, sadly, and hopefully they would hold out against torture.

We had thousands free ready around the world to attack all the centers of the Theocracy’s powers. It wasn’t enough just to kill my parents if the bureaucrats and priests remained behind ready to continue to rule in their names. We had to have something to offer in their place, or we were just condemning the world to anarchy.

I would be with Doug and his group as they attacked. I knew my parents and their security drills. They’d activate the shield and evacuate the mansion on the lawn. They’d be in the open and I would have my opportunity before they fled to whatever bolt-hole they decided and then things would be far more difficult.

“I’ve spoken to all the rest,” I told Doug, glancing at my watch. Flashing seventy-two times in just a short time was tiring, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins was helping to mask my weariness. “They will start their marches in seven minutes.”

Doug nodded, and summoned his golden armor. My father once had armor like that. He had been so magnificent when I had watched him duel Ashtoreth on the mansion lawn so many years ago. I had thought he was a hero. But I grew up, and, like all children, learned my parents were only flawed humans.

My hand shook, and I turned my back on Doug, walking to the window. I looked up South Hill at the concrete wall that segregated the Theocracy’s Capital from its slaves. In a few minutes, five groups of armed, free Thralls would start marching on the seat of my parents’ power, attacking it from all sides. Guns were checked as our followers readied themselves for battle, eager to take back their Liberty.

The blood of Patriots and Tyrants…

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

Mark Glassner

Mary and I awoke to frantic knocks at our door.

“Sir!” 51 shouted, bursting in. She had dressed hastily, her blouse buttoned up wrong. “The Theocracy is under attack!”

“What?” I asked, sleepily. Mary stirred on my chest, sitting up.

“There are five armed groups attacking the perimeter. They number in the hundreds!”

“Shit!” I muttered. Hundreds? Those fucking nuns had been busy! “Pull back the guard! Sixty-four can’t possibly hold against that many!”

“Yes, sir!” she saluted, her ebony face fierce and beautiful.

Mary stood up as maids scurried in with clothing. We hurriedly dressed, pulling on the black, utilitarian clothing we hadn’t worn in thirty years. My heart raced; I hadn’t felt adrenaline coursing so violently through my system since that day when the last Demon attacked the mansion. I had dueled Ashteroth just outside on the mansion’s lawn and beheaded the bitch. April and Xiu had died that day.

My anger rose. We had grown lax. Thirty years of peace had made us complacent. This time we’ll account for every last nun and priest. I’ll set the entire world to hunt them down!

After pulling on black fatigues, I strapped on body armor. I missed my Celestial armor, and I had never fought in the enchanted vest before. Lastly I pulled on my bronze amulet, tucking it beneath the vest. Mary was dressed identically, sheathing a 9mm handgun while a maid tied her auburn hair back.

“Maids, take shelter in the basement,” I ordered, then we rushed out to the security room.

Alison and Desiree were waiting for us, hastily dressed in black fatigues. Excitement burned in Alison’s face; she had always been so reckless during the Demon Wars. On the banks of security cameras was footage of the outer walls breached, and hordes of men and women pouring in, all carrying various automatic weapons.

“Where the fuck did they get those?” Mary demanded.

Alison shrugged. “Some cache a paranoid dictator buried during the troubles. Does it really matter, Mistress?”

“Sir, we’re getting reports from across the globe,” a seemingly young Japanese communication officer said. Her name was Ami, a former Air Force officer that served us from before Lucifer was defeated. “Nine of the Administrative districts report they’re under attack.”

I swallowed, feeling cold. Nine of fourteen. “Which ones?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then paused, listening into her headset. “Sir, Washington D.C.’s about to fall. Sean and Tiffany have barricaded themselves in their bedroom with the last two of their guards.”

“Central America?” I asked, fear clenching my stomach. My mother ruled from Mexico City.

“They haven’t responded,” Roni, another former Air Force officer, answered. “I’m sorry, sir. Paris is reporting an armed mob attacking them, and there was a brief message from Tokyo.”

“We should retreat to the bunker,” Mary whispered, her face pale. Both of our parents were in trouble. And our sisters. Shit.

“Bunker?” I asked, my mind struggling to work as my fear was growing into white-hot anger. My mom and sister were in danger! These filthy vermin thought to hurt my family?

“The missile silo,” Mary answered. I hadn’t thought of our bolt-hole in Oklahoma in decades. I was pretty sure we still had it maintained. Those SWAT officers were stationed there with their families. “There’s no way they can know about it, Mark.”

Sam entered the room. “Sir, I’ve triggered the mansion’s shield. I predict it will last fifteen minutes under the volume of fire.”

“Fuck that! I’m going out there and fighting them,” I barked. “I’m immortal. They can’t hurt me! Even if they empty every fucking bullet they have into me I’ll keep on going!”

“You’d be swarmed under and captured,” Mary objected.

“I have the power to do it. I’ll open the ground beneath their feet, summon the winds to batter them, and cook them with fire! I am Mark Glassner, and I’ll show them why you don’t fuck with a living God!”

“It’s too risky. We don’t know enough, Mark.”

“I can crush them like the insects they are!” Molech’s flames danced on my skin and Milcom’s lightning crackled between my fingers. “I’ll send the vermin scurrying back to their holes while you evacuate the mansion.”

She grabbed my arm. “We don’t have enough information. What if there are more? We need to regroup and figure out what’s going on!”

“Fuck!” I snarled. Her hand was soft on my hand, calm. She was always too cautious, but she was usually right. “We evacuate to the bunker.”

My anger died to a cold simmer. The gall of these Monks and Nuns to challenge us. Once we’ve regrouped, I’ll make them realize the error of their mistake. I’ll enjoy crushing them beneath my boot.

“We’ll make them pay,” she whispered, her hand stroking my arm. “They’ll suffer for every member of our family they’ve hurt.”

We walked outside, the blue shield shimmering in a dome around the mansion. Five gold columns blazed like the sun, powering the spell. Only our most trusted servants and our family could walk through the shield, anyone else would be rebuffed. Outside, the mob beat at it, shot at it, and hurled whatever objects they could at it. Every impact sent ripples of blue spreading across the shield and dimmed the golden columns by a fraction, reducing the energy sustaining it. Eventually it would fail, and they would pour in like water rushing through a breeched dam.

“The maids are assembled, my Lord,” Pearl stated, standing before the ranks of her girls. They all looked scared.

My sons and daughters, and their children, huddled nearby. Silas had Delilah and Andrea clinging to him, and Marcelo and Calypso hugged their daughter Liza. The sluts stood in a nervous clump, Violet hugging Cindy, Jessica trying to stay calm as Korina trembled in Lillian’s arms. Thirty bodyguards were spread out in a circle around us, watching the shield. 51 nodded to me, then gave a worried glance at her husband. Even she was afraid, and she had survived Brandon, the Patriots, and been through the worst of the Demon Wars.

Alison strode out of the mansion. “Master, the mansion’s been evacuated, and I’ve destroyed the computers.”

Anger burned inside me; I would destroy those fucking nuns and monks and spike their heads as a warning to future generations. “Then let’s go,” I snarled, and drew a bronze dagger, prepared to cut a hole in the air, creating a Portal to the Shadows.

Light flashed down from the heavens, pure white, blinding, connecting earth and sky for one brief moment, and then it flashed back up. Where the light had fallen on the lawn stood a person

Chase.

I heard Mary gasp, a sharp intake of breath. The bronze dagger tumbled out of my hand. It was Chase, my beautiful daughter, her blue eyes fixed on me, a sad smile on her freckled face. Her auburn hair fell loosely about her shoulders, swaying in the gentle breeze. I drank in the sight of her. Hope, happiness, joy, filled me up.

My beautiful daughter had come home.

I didn’t remember crossing the distance between us. One moment I was staring in amazement at her, the next she was just before me. I must have run to cross the distance so fast. I threw my arms around her, crushing her against my chest. She was wonderful, real, alive, beautiful.

I didn’t see the ugly dagger clutched in her hand.

The pain was sharp as it sliced into my thigh. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered.

I stumbled back, the small cut burning with venomous agony. The fire spread through my veins; every beat of my heart spreading the pain. Dizziness swept through me; my legs wobbled. I stared at my daughter in astonishment; her blue eyes were full of sorrow.

“Mark!” my wife shouted as my leg buckled. I collapsed onto my back. The blue sky was above me—a perfect, beautiful sky. I had seen its like once before, so very long ago.

Mary knelt beside me, her crying face above me, an even more beautiful sight. Her hand grasped mine, bringing it up to her face. She gently kissed my knuckles, then red light engulfed me. Pain still burned through me; her healing spell failed. Everything was starting to grow dark; my vision grew fuzzy as the pain burned through my veins, drawing closer and closer to my heart.

This has happened before. And Lilith wasn’t going to save me this time.

“Mispachs!” Candy shouted. “Hurry, we need to kill her and spill her blood on him before he dies!”

The dagger of Cain. The only way to save me was for Chase to die. And when I died, my beautiful Mary would, too. I had once condemned the world to darkness to save my wife. I would do anything to protect her, to save her. I thought I could kill anyone to keep my wife alive.

I was wrong.

“No,” I croaked. Mary nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Do not touch our daughter!” my wife commanded with steel in her voice.

“We all die when he does!” Candy objected. “If none of you will kill the bitch, then I’ll…”

“You will do nothing!” 51 roared. I could hear a scuffle, a woman screaming in pain. A gun barked, and Sam gave a muffled cry of anguish.

Chase knelt on the other side of me, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she cried. “It had to be done. Your tyranny had to be stopped. I couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t listen.”

I looked from my wife to my daughter as agony pumped through my veins. She was as beautiful as her mother. Chase hesitantly reached out to grasp our hands. They were soft, warm, as we three held each other. I struggled to speak; there was something very important I had to tell my daughter.

“I forgive you.”

Turned out it wasn’t hard to do at all.

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

Chase Glassner

The life went out of Father’s blue eyes.

Mother slumped limply forward across his chest. Around me, my siblings, the sluts, the maids, and the bodyguards all fell dead. I killed them all. Tears ran hot down my cheeks. Hundreds just died from a single knife stroke. Was I as bad as my parents? Were my murders as justified as theirs?

I didn’t know.

Hundreds dead so that billions could be free. That math had to add up, right?

Silver glinted on my father’s chest. The sun was warm on my face; it was too lovely a day for such tragedy. The silver was a locket, shaped like a heart, a single, pink rose sculpted on the front. It must have spilled out from beneath Mother’s armor as she fell forward, landing upon Father. I grabbed and opened the locket; my parents smiled up at me. With shaking hands, I unclasped it from my mother’s neck, and draped it around my own.

I realized I wasn’t alone. The shield had failed; those that were attacking the compound had gathered in a circle to stare down at the False Gods, the Tyrants—my parents. Around the world, the elements of my parents oppression, those bureaucrats and priests not bound directly to my parents, were being captured or killed. The Theocracy was being erased. Hopefully, a better government would rise from the ashes.

I silently walked away, the crowd parting before me. I could have ridden on the Light, flashing to wherever I wanted to go. Wherever that was. I needed to walk, to think, to wonder why I didn’t die with all my family, with my parents. I was bound to them. I shouldn’t have lived.

I wasn’t supposed to live.

Now I had to live with the question: could I have talked my parents into giving it all up? To free mankind from their bondage? I don’t know. I just knew that I couldn’t take the risk that they would say no. I had this one opportunity to end it, to liberate the world. I had to take it, and now all I could do was walk, cursed like the shoemaker to wander on and on forever, guilt tearing apart my heart.

Hopefully, the world was worth it.

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

Mark Glassner

I was falling, falling, falling.

Into Darkness.

Then Darkness gave way to heat, to fire.

I opened my eyes. Oppressive heat buffeted my body and blood-red rocks crunched at my feet. Anguished wails echoed through the air—the chorus of the damned. I stood on a rocky hill, overlooking a hellish plain and a city of brass. Trees made of twisted bone dotted the plain, growing next to rifts that smoked sulfurous fumes.

Mary appeared at my side. I wrapped my arms around my wife. “Together forever,” she whispered.

A collar bound my neck, made of red, pitted iron, leading off into the distance—my Pact with Lucifer. The iron was weak, pitted; it snapped easily. I had far more power than the Devil ever had. I had stolen the power of every Demon—Lucifer, Lilith, Molech, Dagon, and more—I had slain, the energy split between Mary and myself. Mary reached up and easily snapped her chain, the iron flaking away into rust on the searing wind.

More souls appeared. Chasity and Noel knelt before me, joined by 51, while the bodyguards knelt in ranks behind them. “We’ve awaited you for a while, Master,” Chasity said, smiling, her blue eyes twinkling with joy.

Karen threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek. Then April, glasses reflecting the hellish landscape, melted against me. And lastly Xiu sauntered up, naked; I pulled her to me by her nipple piercing. “I missed you all,” I told the three of them. “You were never forgotten.”

“Thank you, Master,” Xiu smiled, tears shining in her eyes. “We swore to serve you forever.”

The other sluts joined us: Lillian, Korina, Violet, Jessica, Alison, and Desiree. Korina reunited with Xiu, hugging her enthusiastically. Alison and Desiree gazed into each other’s eyes with love. Our families were next: my mom and her wife, Tiffany and Sean, Missy and Damien, Shannon and George, Antsy and Via. Their children and ours. Pearl and her maids, our other servants, the Cunningham twins and their Bishops, and our friends who helped us rule the Theocracy. Around us, reunions happened as those that had passed on before us were reunited with friends, family, and lovers.

The only one missing was Chase. I concentrated, and I could sense my daughter walking away from the mansion, crushed by her guilt. Anger flashed through me—I had failed her. I hadn’t been a good enough father to her. I was too concerned with escaping Hell, of making sure that there were no threats that could harm me or my loved ones. Mary and I shackled the entire world out of selfishness. Chase is a better person than I ever was. I hoped one day I could tell her that; then, maybe, we could be a family again.

We will, Mary’s voice whispered in my mind. She just needs time. And we have all the time in the universe now.

“What are your commands, Master?” Violet asked, her arm around Cindy.

“We’re ready to kick some ass!” shouted an eager Alison. Somehow, she had conjured a machine gun, red flames flickering across the black metal.

I could see the lesser demons and the shades of the dead hovering at the edges of our group, watching us warily. Beyond them lay the city of brass. Dis. I glanced at my wife, gave her shoulder a squeeze, then looked at our family and followers. For a moment, black chains flashed around all their necks, connecting them to Mary and myself.

I grinned, “Well, I’ve heard it said that it’s better to rule in Hell.”

Click here for Epilogue.

To be concluded…

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 52: The Tyrants’ Daughter

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 52: The Tyrants’ Daughter

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female/Teen female, Male/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Oral Sex, First, Spanking

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 51.



After the death of Dagon and the end of the Great Eclipse, the followers of the demoness Lilith were rounded up. Lana and Chantelle, High Priestesses of Lilith, were vociferous in their praise of their dead goddess, and went to the gallows for their crimes, along with many of the ‘Coven’, the first group of women to worship Lilith. The most notable pardons went to Fiona and Thamina, who raised Lily, the daughter of Lana and Chantelle. The pair spent their lives rebuilding Seattle and aiding the victims of Lilith’s tyranny. To this day, they are remembered fondly in Seattle, and a statue in their honor was raised at Pioneer Park.

–Excerpt from ‘The Rise and Fall of the American Theocracy’ by Tina Allard, a Holy Witness

Chasity Glassner

I was born three minutes after midnight, May 2nd, 2014 by the old calendar. My parents always said I was the most beautiful baby in the world, fitting for a newborn Goddess. I’ve seen the pictures; I was a squalling ball of pink, no different from any other baby. I was named after Chasity Sarah Vinter, the Holy Martyr who died protecting my mother before I was ever even conceived.

My earliest memories are of my dad, the God Mark Glassner, staring intently at a map. I was maybe three, toddling about inside an iron room, the Matmown, in the mansion’s basement. I now know he was plotting the final push against the Demoness Astarte who ruled Western Europe. It has always stayed with me how focused he looked, his blue eyes hard with determination.

I didn’t see much of my parents those first eleven years of my life. The Demons of Hell had been loosed when I was only six months old, and Mother and Father spent a decade prying mankind out of their clutches. By the time I was five, Dagon, Chemosh, Astarte, Baal-zebub, and Asherah were all slain by Father. When my parents were around, they loved me fiercely. Mother would scoop me up, her green eyes flashing with love, and cover me with kisses, while Father would tickle me until I laughed so hard I couldn’t breath.

“Well, at least there’s one woman in my life I can win a tickling contest with,” he would joke as I gasped for breath, his blue eyes twinkling. Then Mother would attack him, tickling away. Mother always won. And then they would start kissing, and a maid would pick me up and take me to go play with my siblings while Mother and Father did ‘adult stuff’.

Since Mother and Father were so busy, I would often spend time with the other children in the mansion: my half-brother Silas, half-sisters Delilah and Andrea, and my uncle Michael. We were all born within a month of each other; Silas was the oldest, then Andrea and Delilah, then me, and finally Uncle Michael, Mother’s youngest sibling. I tried to play with them, but there was a gulf between us. I was the daughter of both Mother and Father, a Goddess, while Micheal was merely a mortal, and Silas, Andrea, and Delilah were only demigods. Michael had the maids’ and bodyguards’ children to play with, and Silas, Andrea, and Delilah were inseparable, always getting into trouble together.

I was so very lonely.

It was Grandfather who sensed how lonely I was. He was Mother’s father, and was old. One of the oldest appearing persons in my life. The mansion was filled with mostly young, beautiful women that served my parents, their youths frozen by the Zimmah bond. There were a few men married to various maids, cooks, or bodyguards, but it was mostly women in the house.

“Here, Chase, why don’t you come read with your grandpa,” he said one day.

I was never lonely after that. Grandfather introduced me to the world of books. I read everyday, transported to magical worlds. Whenever I finished a book, Grandfather and I would discuss them; he would point out what the book meant, the themes, and what the author was trying to teach me.

“But it was just a story,” I objected.

“All the great works will teach you something,” Grandfather explained. “About life, about love, about history, or politics. Some will exhort you to be a better human, others will show you the folly of one particular idea.”

“And what if they’re wrong?” I asked.

“That’s why you have a brain,” he answered. “Consider what they say, weigh their evidence, and decide for yourself if they are right or wrong.”

As I grew older, my half-siblings, my uncle, and I began our education. Grandfather taught most of the subjects, and Sam, the Vizier, taught us Hebrew and Aramaic. As we became older, entering our preteen years, other sons and daughters of Father joined us: Meredith, Lillian’s shy daughter; Marcelo and Calypso, Desiree and Alison’s children, born only a few weeks apart; and, when I was fourteen, little Justin, Jessica’s son, started school. Only Gang, Xiu’s son with Father, was too young to start his education by the time I turned eighteen.

I came to love weddings; everyone in the family, and that included the sluts, would show up. Mother and Father; my aunt Antsy and her wife Via; Aunt Missy and Aunt Shannon, and their husbands, Damien and George; Grandfather and Grandmother, who looked as young as Mother; and Nana Sandy and Nana Betty. They were the happiest times of my childhood.

The earliest one I could remember was Aunt Antsy’s wedding to Via. Andrea and I were the flower girls and Silas was the ring bearer; poor Delilah spent the day crying because she didn’t get to be in the wedding party. Then Jessica married Debra Darnell, a reporter whose first husband had died in the Wormwood Plague. It seemed that every year, family members were getting married: April and Hayfa, Sam and Candy, Korina and Xiu. Everyone seemed to be in a rush to get married.

Cindy, Violet’s wife, explained it to me at April’s wedding, “Tomorrow any one of us could die, and we all just wanted something permanent, something official in case the worst happened to our loves.”

Violet smiled at her, and kissed her wife.

And some did die. Hayfa was killed in a field hospital outside Delhi in the final push to kill Marduk; April cried for her wife an entire year. When Ashtoreth, the final Demon, launched a surprise, desperate attack on the mansion just a few weeks before my eleventh birthday, April and Xiu, along with many bodyguards and maids, died. I watched Father and Mother fight for the first time while hiding beneath a hedge, killing scores of the demons that poured out of portals opened across the mansion’s grounds. They were magnificent. The demons fled in terror before their powers, and Ashtoreth was forced to kneel before Father, slumped and defeated, before he beheaded her and absorbed her powers.

The Demon Wars that had consumed my early childhood ended. The world could finally rebuild beneath Father and Mother’s direction. Administrative districts were set up; family and friends were appointed to rule over the fourteen districts. Mother and Father finally were home for long periods of time. It was the happiest time of my life.

When I turned twelve, Mother gave me ‘the talk,’ teaching me about sex. “You know how boys have a penis?” she asked me.

“And girls have a vagina,” I answered, flushing at saying such a word in front of my mother.

My eyes grew wide as she explained the ‘adult stuff’ she and Father did. She was quite frank, and my cheeks burned as she explained different positions and techniques. It sounded very messy and icky, and I told Mother that.

Mother just laughed. “Well, you’ll soon be old enough to fuck, if you want to.”

I blushed, my cheeks warming. “No, thank you!”

“In a few years, I bet you change your mind,” laughed Mother, hugging me. “Your Father and I want to be the first ones to be with you, sweety. When you’re old enough and ready.”

I felt a tingle in my body. “Really?” Father was such a hunk, and when I thought about him my pussy sometimes felt funny. Maybe it was worth all the mess.

“Yeah, you’re going to make us all immortals.”

“Really?” I asked, smiling.

“Yep.”

I wasn’t as ready to rush into sex as my siblings. When they were fourteen, Silas was found with Delilah and Andrea in bed with him. “That’s my son,” Father had laughed when he heard about it.

It was another year before I was ready.

On my fifteenth birthday, my parents threw an elaborate party for me. It was a lot more ‘adult’ than my previous parties, and none of the children had been invited. Bishop Mattock and his wife, Jessie, brought a few temple prostitutes for entertainment, and a beautiful Black woman gave me a lap dance as everyone cheered. She ground her plump tush on my crotch and rubbed her ebony breasts in my face. I felt giddy, tipsy on champagne, as this beautiful woman cavorted on me.

“Happy birthday, Chase,” Father said to me after the lap dance was over, holding out his hand to me and helping me up. His cock was hard, and shiny with some woman’s juices.

My entire body felt like it was on fire, starting at my little pussy. I’d never felt so horny before, and I wanted to slip away and stroke my little kitten until it purred. Mother appeared, naked and flushed, and took my other hand.

“Are you ready, Chase?” she asked me.

“Yes, Mom,” I told her. I was ready to pop my cherry and become a woman.

Everyone cheered; they knew what was about to happen.

“Give her a good tumble, big bro,” Aunt Antsy catcalled.

“Make her howl, Mary,” Aunt Missy cooed, and pinched my ass as I walked by.

“I hope you won’t forget about your Grandfather,” he winked, as Grandmother fondly laughed, “Dirty, old man.”

I trembled as we entered their bedroom. Candles lit the room, and incense burned lavender and sweet. Father kissed me, his blue eyes shining with lust, as Mother’s hands found the zipper of my new dress, a low-cut, dark-blue party dress with a ruffled skirt. The cool silk slid down my skin, exposing my naked body to my Father’s gaze. I shivered. He was so strong, so powerful, and I wanted to be taken by him.

“We made a beautiful child, Mare,” Father leered; his hand reached out and gently cupped my breast. They were small, perky, and covered in freckles, just like Mother’s.

“Yes, we did,” Mother purred, standing next to me and sliding a hand up my waist to cup my other breast.

“You two could be sisters,” Father whispered. “You look so much alike.”

I flushed; Mother was the most beautiful woman, and I was happy to be compared to her. Mother kissed at my neck as Father’s fingers pinched at my nipple. My eyes found his cock. It was so hard, jutting out at me. And it looked so big. How was that going to fit in me?

“It’ll be okay,” Mother whispered. “Relax.”

She must have felt me tense. Her lips found mine, and I was kissed for the very first time by a lover. I had practiced kissing with Andrea and Delilah when we were twelve and thirteen, but it was nothing like the passion Mother had for me. I cocked my head, trying to move my lips like she was. Mother’s tongue flickered through my mouth. I moaned, and kissed her back. Her fingers stroked my skin, building my ardor to higher levels.

I was breathless when she broke the kiss, and Father was there, turning my face. I trembled, staring into his deep, blue eyes. He kissed me. It was different than Mother’s, rougher, more powerful, and I melted into his strength. I could feel his hard cock rubbing on my stomach, leaving a wet streak of something on my belly. Not pee? Did he cum already? No, it’s precum, remembering Mother’s quite frank sex talk from a few years ago.

We fell upon the bed in a tangle of kissing bodies. Hands roamed me, groping my breasts, gently pinching my nipples, stroking my thighs. Mother toyed with my thick mat of fiery-red pubic hair, then slid down to find my wet pussy. I shuddered and came as the first person touched my sex. It was intense, glorious, so much better than using my own fingers in my bower at night.

“She’s so wet,” Mother purred, then licked her fingers, tasting my juices. “Umm, tart and sweet.”

She held her fingers up for Father, and he savored my passion. “I have to get a better taste,” he grinned.

He spread my legs and Mother stretched out beside me as Father’s whiskers scratched at my thighs. “You are in for a treat, Chase,” she cooed, licking my ear. “Your dad is a wonderful pussy eater. He’s had a lot of practice on me.”

“Can I taste you?” I asked, a little hesitant. Father’s tongue toyed with my pussy lips, stirring my lust.

“I would love that, baby girl.”

She straddled my face, her beautifully waxed pussy descending to my lips. Father buried his face into my hairy snatch, and I realized that I wanted to have a bald cunt just like Mother. Father’s tongue felt amazing, rough and wet, as he explored my folds. I tried to copy what he was doing to me on Mother’s spicy, sweet flower.

“Oh, Chase!” Mother moaned. “Umm, you’re a quick study! Nuzzle my clit. Yes, just like that, baby-girl. Oh, fuck! Oh, my baby-girl!”

I almost panicked when a flood of juices poured out of Mother’s cunt into my lips. Then I heard her moans and gasps, and I realized I had made her cum. I felt so happy as Mother ground her pussy into my eager mouth. Father was really eating me, his tongue fucking into my pussy hole, pressing against my hymen as his fingers skillfully manipulated my little pleasure button.

Mother slid off my face, and licked her juices off my cheek. “Are you about to cum, baby-girl? Is daddy’s tongue driving you wild?”

“Yes, Mom!” I groaned. “Oh, Daddy, you’re making me feel so good. I love you so much! You and Mom!”

“Aww,” Mother sighed, a tear brimming in her eye. “I love you, too, baby-girl.”

Father showed his love by bringing me to an earth-shattering orgasm. I bucked and moaned, Father hanging on for dear life as he ate me out. It seemed like every nerve in my body exploded with pleasure while Mother held my hand and smiled encouragingly at me. And then it passed, and I collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I gasped as he crawled up the bed. He kissed me on the lips. I tasted my pussy, it tasted as sweet as Mother’s, but had a tart flavor instead of a spicy one.

I could feel Father’s cock prodding the entrance of my pussy. He broke the kiss, staring his blue eyes into mine, and asked, “Are you ready, Chase?”

“Yes, make me a woman, Daddy!”

Mother squeezed my hand as Father drove his cock into me; for a moment, my hymen resisted, then his cock broke through and sank into me, filling me up. “Eylowm!” Father hissed in my ear.

Energy burst inside of me, flowing out of my body and into Father’s. Our bodies were connected, and this energy formed a bond between our very souls. My life-force touched Father’s, and we merged together briefly. Pleasure exploded through me. I thought my last orgasm was amazing—this one blew it away. As our souls merged, I became ecstasy, driving every thought from my mind except the exquisite pleasure blossoming inside me. Father’s cum shot into me, warm and wet, and filled me up. Mother’s hand squeezed mine and I heard her moans of pleasure. Her soul was so connected with Father’s, our joining touched her’s as well.

“Holy shit!” I gasped when our souls parted.

“You did it, baby-girl,” Mother praised. “None of us will ever die. Your father is immortal.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and I really didn’t care, as Father started driving his cock in and out of my pussy. Every thrust filled me up, stretching my little hole. There was some pain, but it was a beautiful ache, and dwarfed by the pleasure every stroke of his cock gave me. I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers raking his back as I pumped my hips. I needed to cum again. I needed to feel my father’s seed pouring into me.

“Oh, yes!” I groaned. “Fuck me, Daddy! Harder! Oh, I’m going to cum again!”

My little cunt spasmed on my Father’s cock as he pounded me. I could only moan wordlessly and pump my hips. I learned to grind my clit into his groin, and that pleasure quickly built another orgasm inside me. His rod kept pistoning into me, faster, harder, more frantic. I felt so full, and his shaft’s every thrust sparked greater and greater passion inside me.

“My baby-girl,” he groaned. “Your pussy feels so amazing, Chase! Fuck!”

His cum shot into me a second time, sending me over the edge. I went rigid; my orgasm writhed through me. “Oh, yes, Daddy!” I groaned. “Oh, yes, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, baby-girl,” he sighed, and then he rolled off me. I felt empty. Mother cuddled on one side of Father, and I cuddled on the other, smiling happily. “This is the best birthday ever.”

Mother’s hand stroked my cheek. “It’s not over yet, baby-girl,” she smiled.

She ate me out, devouring all of Father’s cum from my naughty cunt, then she tongued my asshole. It felt weird when she slid first one, then two fingers into my ass, lubing me up with my pussy juices. Father was fucking her from behind, his muscular body glinting with sweat, his face contorted with animalistic pleasure as he pounded her. Then I had the pleasure of eating out Father’s cum from Mother’s pussy, enjoying his salty cream and her savory juices while Father took my anal cherry. We fucked the night away, in every combination and position, until we all collapsed sweaty in their bed, Mother and I cuddling on either side of Father.

After that, I couldn’t get enough of sex—and there was a mansion full of beautiful women for me to experience. I fucked my half-siblings, I fucked the sluts, I fucked my Aunts and Uncles, my Grandfather, and Grandmothers. I worked my way through every maid we had. My poor pussy felt so abused after the end of the first week. Luckily, Sam showed me this cream she had created, rubbing first the soothing lotion, and then her cock, deep inside my pussy.

“It’s your choice if you want to be bound to us,” Mother always said. “You can be free to live your life, grow old, and die, or be young and live forever with those that love you.”

As my eighteenth birthday approached, I made my choice. “I want to be bound to Mom,” I told my parents a week before my birthday. “No offense, Dad, but it lets Grandpa get involved.”

Father laughed, and rubbed my head, mussing my hair—I hated when he did that. “You do seem to be an affectionate granddaughter.”

“Ever since you sent him and Grandma to Washington D.C. to govern North America, I don’t get to see him that much,” I pointed out. “He is coming for my birthday, right?”

“Of course he is,” Mother reassured, and reached out and gripped my hand. I was going to be the first child bound to them; the trio of Silas, Delilah, and Andrea were waiting for their three-way wedding in a month to be bound.

I was full of energy all week; I’m sure I drove everyone in the mansion nuts, but I was just so excited to see Grandpa. Finally, the day arrived, and my parents threw a lavish party for me. Every Governor and Bishop showed up, all my parents’ old friends and their most devoted worshipers. Once again, the entertainment was brought by Bishop Mattock and his stable of Temple Prostitutes.

“I was his first prostitute,” Jessie, Bishop Kevin’s wife, confided in me as we slipped into an alcove in the ballroom, one of many constructed so people could find a nice, intimate spot. She was a bubbly blonde that looked only twenty. “And it’s all thanks to your Father that we got together.”

Jessie gave me a screaming orgasm. She was one of many men and women that were eager to bed a Goddess. I was my mother’s daughter, and I shared my affections with as many guests as I could before the binding ceremony. A bed had been assembled in the center of the hall, and we all watched Mother getting ravished by Grandfather while Dawn and Rose Cunningham led the assembled clergy in a hymn of praise.

I approached the bed when they were finished, Mother’s legs spread wide and her cunt glistening with cum and juices. I crawled across the crimson silk sheets, inhaled the bouquet, and licked deeply into her pussy. Grandfather was salty and Mother was sweet.

“Zimmah,” Mother intoned.

Energy seemed to flow from Grandfather into Mother and me, binding me to Mother with chains stronger than death. I shuddered, breathing in deeply. “We’ll be together forever, Mommy,” I sighed.

“Yes, we will, baby-girl,” she smiled, as everyone cheered.

As the party was winding down, I cornered my Grandfather, “You haven’t given me your gift yet,” I pouted.

“I wanted to give it to you in private,” he said.

“Well, I have a surprise for you, too,” I giggled wantonly. “Why don’t you come to my bedroom in fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, Chase.”

I slipped out of the ballroom as an orgy formed with those guests still here; Mother and Father were at the center of it. Mother had Alison rimming her ass as Bishop Addison ate her pussy. Father was buried beneath a pile of female flesh made of Aunt Antsy, Jessie, one of Governor Chris’s busty wives, and Jessica.

I entered my bedroom and found the outfit that Lillian helped me procure. “They’re quite hard to find these days,” she had said. “Have fun!” When Grandfather entered the room, a smile broadened his face as he saw me standing coquettishly.

“My sweet Chase, how beautiful you are,” he smiled.

“I heard you like naughty schoolgirls,” I purred, feeling his eyes rake my body.

I wore a white, button-down blouse tied below my breasts to leave my flat stomach exposed; a tartan skirt, green-and-blue, fell in pleated folds down to my upper thighs, and knee-high, white socks completed the look. I had my auburn hair in a ponytail, hanging over my left shoulder to add a splash of color on the white blouse.

A smile creased his face, and he ran a hand through his red hair streaked with gray. He walked to me, cupped my chin, and stared into my blue eyes. “I love naughty schoolgirls.” His hand slid down to squeeze my breast through the blouse, his finger brushing my nipple. “You’ve been a such a bad girl, haven’t you?”

“I have,” I purred.

“You’ll need to be disciplined.”

I blinked, not sure where this was going, but Grandfather’s lust was making me feel so womanly, that I didn’t resist as he sat down the bed, and pulled me over his lap. He was going to spank me, I realized, as he drew up my skirt.

“Naughty slut, no panties,” he hissed, rubbing his hands roughly across my exposed ass.

“I forgot them,” I said, trying to sound scared and innocent. Grandfather’s cock bulged beneath me.

His hand fell on my ass with a meaty smack, stinging my flesh. I yelped in pain. “You are such a bad little girl!” he groaned. Smack! “So bad!” Smack!

My ass burned, then his hand gently rubbed the flesh, soothing the hurt and building a fire inside me. He spanked me again, harder, and juices leaked out of my cunt. I squirmed, eager for the next strike. I felt so naughty.

“Ohh, spank me, sir!” I moaned. “Punish me!”

Smack! My bottom quivered; the pain went straight to my clit, feeding my fires. He kept spanking me, and I writhed on his lap, rubbing my clit into his thigh. Then he slapped right on my cunt, a wet, smacking sound that shot pain and pleasure through me.

I exploded. “Yes, yes!” I screamed. “I’m so bad!”

He rubbed my cunt, smacked it a second time, and growled, “What a whorish girl you are! I guess I’m going to need to use my rod to punish you!”

I gave a throaty laugh. “Punish me with your thick tool!”

He threw me down on my bed, shoved a pillow underneath my stomach, and knelt behind me. I heard his pants unzip; his cock smacked my plump, smarting asscheek. “Little sluts like you need a hard rod to keep you in line!” he groaned as he shoved his cock into me.

“Fuck me! Pound my little snatch!” I groaned. “Punish me!”

My bed creaked as he slammed his cock into me. The angle let him drive deep, his cock rubbing down the top of my hole, brushing my G-spot. I quivered, and started cumming after just a few strokes, my little cunt rippling on his cock.

“You fucking whore!” he groaned. “You came already?”

“Your tool feels so good!” I panted.

“It’s supposed to be a punishment! I think a different hole needs to be reamed!”

“Umm, I couldn’t agree more!”

He spread my cheeks, pulling his cock out of my drenched pussy. I had lubed him well, and he speared into my ass with little resistance. I’ve had many cocks up my ass, and I thrust back against his cock, enjoying how he filled me up. His groin smacked into my pillowy cheeks, aching pain shooting through me, and I shoved my ass up into his strokes.

“Fuck my ass!” I chanted. “Fuck me! Fuck my naughty, schoolgirl ass, Grandpa!”

I wormed my right hand between me and the pillow, found my hard clit, and stroked my pleasure button. Grandfather kept pounding my ass, stirring up my pleasure as I struck sparks on my clit.

“I love your ass, Chase!” he moaned. “My beautiful granddaughter! You look so much like your mother. There’s even a bit of your grandmother in your face!”

I frigged my clit, pushing hard on the sensitive nub, so close to cumming. “Fuck me harder!” I shouted. “I need to cum!

He slapped my ass, stinging pain shooting to my pussy, then hunched over me, and pistoned his cock rapidly in and out of my ass. Shivers of pleasure burst through me. I moaned wordlessly as my orgasm shot through me like electricity. My ass milked his cock, transmitting my pleasure to him. Cum erupted violently into me, flooding my ass as Grandfather pumped a few more times, then collapsed atop me.

He spooned me for a while, tracing my arm, as we caught our breath. I felt so warm, so safe, in his arms. “I love you, Grandpa,” I sighed.

“I love you, too.” The bed creaked and he sat up. I rolled over and watched him walk over and pick up a rectangular present bound in colorful paper. A book! I smiled, and eagerly took it from him.

I ripped open the package. The book was old, the pages yellowing. I’ve always wanted to have a new book, but none were published these days. Well, not the story ones anyway. The Living Church encouraged its worshipers to only read from the Account of the Gods, the collection of holy scriptures written by various bishops and sluts, or other officially sanctioned books used to educate children.

I glanced at the cover. ‘On Liberty’ by John Stuart Mill.

“Let this be our little secret,” Grandfather said. “I don’t think your parents would approve of this one.”

I clutched the book to my chest, eager to have this secret with my Grandfather. The book opened my eyes, everything it said seemed to contradict the teachings of the Church and the way my parents had cultivated humanity. It taught that men should be free to act as they will, so long as their actions do not unduly harm another. The Theocracy taught that men must obey the will of the Living Gods and their earthly representatives without question or hesitation.

A month later, right after Silas married Andrea and Delilah, I embarked on a tour of various parts of the World, to let the citizens see their Goddess and know that they were loved. ‘On Liberty’ opened my eyes to the oppression of the World. Many cities had been destroyed, many lives lost, when the Demons escaped Hell, and much had to be rebuilt. There was a sameness to everything now. There seemed to be only a dozen different plans for houses; neighborhoods in rebuilt Paris looked the same as ones in Jerusalem. Government buildings were built to the exact same plan, laid out in squares with each building resting at the same spot in the square. The same statues dotted parks and the same fountains were the centerpieces of squares. The only things beautiful or original were the monuments and buildings that had survived the Demon Wars. The Gods had approved the new building plans, and no-one had either the daring or the desire to build something different.

Even the citizens were all the same. Sure they had different skin colors, different facial features, but they were identical. Farmers wore the same roughspun garb; miners dressed in leather jackets and orange helmets; nurses in their low-cut, white dresses. They all smiled and talked to each other politely. And they all stared at me in awe. Every last person was under my parents’ powers, ordered to love their neighbors, to obey the laws, and to never harm another human. There was no culture nor diversity.

There was no humanity.

The citizens were happy and healthy, they had food and shelter. They were slaves, even if their manacles were invisible. Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, John Stuart Mill had written almost two hundred years ago, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing.

I was horrified and, when I returned home, I foolishly expected my parents to see the error of their ways when I carefully explained it to them. We sat at dinner, served by scantily clad maids. Supposedly, they were all volunteers, but was that true? How could they not volunteer, when they were told to obey their Gods and love them and serve them in any way possible by the Church and my parents’ weekly broadcasts?

Mother stared in disbelief when I finished my lecture on how their actions, while well-meaning, were tyrannical and robbing the people of the world of their most inalienable right—the liberty to make their own decisions.

“She’s your daughter,” Father laughed and Mother glared at him.

“You have to understand, Chase, we did it for their own good,” Mother patiently explained, like I was a child, and I set my teeth.

“And why can’t they make their own choices?” I demanded. “Why do they have to take the aptitude test and be assigned their jobs and their housing. Even their spouses are chosen for them. What’s the harm in a little freedom?”

“Give man an inch, and he’ll take a foot,” Father answered. “Humans do poorly with freedom.”

“And that’s why you won’t let them choose their own spouses? What about love? About finding that special someone and choosing to be with them?”

“They’re free to love,” Mother answered. “They’re assigned spouses based on personality and suitable genetic traits. They’re free to take any lover they want.”

“And what if they hate their spouse?” I demanded.

“They won’t,” Father answered. “When assigned, they’re told that they will always love each other. We care about our followers, and only want the best for them.”

I threw my hands up. “That’s what I mean. You’re taking away even the most intimate decision they can make!”

“What’s the harm, they’re happy,” Mother answered. “Our system makes all the decisions for them, leaving them free to enjoy their lives as they make the world a better place.”

“But they don’t live, they just exist! You’ve robbed them of free will, of what makes them human! Why not give them just a little freedom? What is so wrong about that?”

Father stared at me. “Do you know what the world was like before the Theocracy?”

“I’ve watched your movies.”

“Those were fiction!” he snapped. “Like the books that have poisoned your mind. Before we imposed our Utopia, men had all the freedom they wanted, and what did they do with it?”

I shrugged, wilting beneath my Father’s anger.

“Men were brutal beasts. Every day, thousands were murdered, raped, and brutalized. Mothers drowned their children because they inconvenienced their love lives, husbands murdered their wives for insurance payouts, and children killed their parents for drug money. Companies sold products that killed and maimed, covering up their crimes to keep their profit margins. Dictators starved their people, while religious extremists butchered those that disagreed on how to worship the same god. There is no depth to the evil and depravity that men and women can sink to.”

“Thanks to us, people only die from accidents, old age, and illness,” Mother added. “And your Father and I try our best to stop illnesses.”

“That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant,” I quoted from ‘On Liberty’. “Just because someone might do something, or because you think you know better, is not a good enough reason to impose your will on them!” I slammed my fist into the table. “What gives you the right to make slaves of mankind?”

“We are Gods, Chase,” Father answered. “That gives us all the right.”

I didn’t have an answer to that. ‘On Liberty’ didn’t cover the ethics of an actual God, only temporal governments. Suddenly, I felt unsure. Father sounded so certain, so commanding, that I felt foolish for even challenging him.

“There has to be something better,” I lamely answered.

“There isn’t,” Mother said, reaching out and taking my hand. “Trust us, baby-girl. Humans are children, and we’re their loving parents. We know what’s best for them.”

“Okay,” I whispered. She hugged me, and I sighed, savoring her motherly affections.

For several years I dropped my objections, letting them fester in the back of my mind. I could find no answer to my parents’ assertion. My parents were Gods; I was a Goddess. We were better than all those other humans, so maybe it was only right that we reshape mankind into something better. That was the point of religion, to extort mankind to be better than their base urges. My parents were just more successful at it than the false religions of the past.

It was a chance comment I overheard that changed everything.

I needed something from Sam. I don’t remember what it was, something inconsequential, so I walked into her quarters to retrieve it. I didn’t knock. After all, I was a Goddess, and I could go where I pleased.

“If they’re Gods, why did we have to figure out their miracles,” Candy complained to Sam. The TV was turned up loud, and they hadn’t heard me enter.

They were sitting on their couch, watching some documentary about Mother and Father; television was the only form of culture allowed in the Theocracy, and it was mostly bland stuff compared to the entertainments that had come before. Mother and Father had quite the collection of movies and TV shows, things banned by their Theocracy, and we’d often watch them together.

Sam answered patiently, like this was an answer she was used to giving, “Great men and women have always stood on the shoulders of their intellectual betters. Why would Mark and Mary be any different than the thousands of petty tyrants that have come before?”

I was shocked. Never had I heard anyone impugn my parents before. I was intrigued. Did Sam and Candy not believe in our Godhood? A few days later, I tripped Candy into my bed, and after some vigorous fucking, we cuddled, and I asked her bluntly what she meant by her comment that day in front of the TV.

Candy tensed. “You heard that?”

I nodded. “It sounded like you two don’t think we’re Gods.”

She gave me a considering look, fingering a lock of her honey-blonde hair. I knew from pictures she used to dye it garishly, half-pink and half-blue. “Have you ever read the Magicks of the Witch of Endor?”

I frowned, that sounded familiar, but I was sure I hadn’t read it.

“I’ll email you Sam’s translation,” she told me.

It destroyed my world. My parents weren’t Gods, they just made deals with the very Demons that had ravaged the world during my childhood. And some of the deals in there were vile. What sort of monsters were my parents? All their justifications for enslaving mankind rang hollow in my ears. They weren’t better than the humans—they were humans. Subject to the same flawed hearts they claimed could not be trusted.

The same flawed heart that beat in my chest.

I couldn’t look at my parents without feeling sick, imagining Father sacrificing a woman to Molech, or Mother strangling a girl for power to Ashtoreth. I felt suffocated in the mansion, surrounded by evidence of my parents’ abhorrent excess. Even Candy, who seemed so critical of my parents, wasn’t disturbed by their powers, just jealous of them.

I had to leave.

At the age of twenty-three, I walked down the driveway of the mansion and out onto the roads. I had never walked any great distance, but I was young and I adapted. I walked for hours, leaving the large compound that made up the Theocracy’s Capital of South Hill. I didn’t know where I was going, what I was doing. I just had to escape.

Two bodyguards tracked me down on the second day. “Holy Daughter,” 312 said respectfully to me. “Your parents are worried about you.”

“Let them worry,” I said, with a toss of my hair, and kept walking.

“They want you to come home,” 71 added. “They’re concerned about you.”

“I don’t ever want to see those monsters again!” I shouted. “I want nothing to do with Warlocks!” I put all my hate, all my disgust, into that word. Warlocks. I knew the stories: before the Demons there were the Warlocks. Petty men and women who sold their souls for power. People just like my parents.

I kept on walking; the two bodyguards stared stupidly at my back. I could feel their eyes as I walked down the road, west towards Tacoma then south. I walked until I became tired. There was always a helpful ‘citizen’ that would offer to let me stay in their house. When I was hungry, I ate at the communal cafeterias that provided free meals to their neighborhoods. I just walked and walked, down the West Coast, into Mexico, then I followed the Caribbean into the South. Every so often, a representative of my parents would find me, and try to convince me to come home.

I grew lean, hard. My feet became tough with callouses, my face darkened by the sun. When I reached the East Coast, I took a cargo ship to Europe. Normal citizens weren’t allowed to travel, but I was a false Goddess, nothing was denied me. I was aimless, restless. Five years had passed without me even realizing it. Why was I walking? Everything was the same. The people were all the same slaves.

I needed to free these people. I needed to atone for my parents’ great sin.

I tried to find allies, to stir up the population. Sometimes, I’d find a man or woman that had some passion, some spark that hadn’t been beaten out of them by my parents, and I would latch on to them, clinging to them as tightly as a drowning person to a piece of flotsam. I’d take them as my lover, and we’d pass the weeks talking, plotting, trying to find others to help us.

It always ended the same way—they would be unable to change, to break free of my parents’ control, and I would grew melancholy and walk. I desperately wanted to be with my family again, but I couldn’t ignore the monstrousness of their Theocracy. If I could just find a way to restore Liberty to mankind, I knew I could go home.

We’d be a family again.

I walked the world, traversing every last continent save Antarctica. I was immortal; time didn’t matter. I looked eighteen, even though I was thirty, then I was thirty-five. It was hard to care anymore. When winter came, I went south; when summer came I would go north, or further south. I once stood at the tip of South America, staring at Cape Horn, and remembering the stories I had read of great sailing ships battling the elements as they rounded this point, and the terrible storms that would assail them as the Europeans explored the world.

When my melancholy was at its strongest, I contemplated suicide. Once, I stood at the rim of the Grand Canyon, gazing down into red depths and the blue Colorado snaking through the canyon. One step. A few years later, I sat at the edge of Victoria Falls, watching the curtain of water fountain into mist and thinking I could just swim out and let the current take me and carry me from this life. But then I’d remember I was bound to Mother. If I died, I would just wait in the Shadows with all those chained to my parents that had died.

My thirty-ninth birthday passed as I walked the Jordan River and reached the Dead Sea. I floated in the warm, salty waters, trying to wash clean my parents’ filth. I had just broken up with Barakat, a beautiful Arab youth. He was sixteen, his skin the color of rich coffee, and his eyes full of life. I had let myself again foolishly think I had found the one person that would care about what my parents had made of the world, and then he had come home, excited that the aptitude test had selected him to be a farmer.

“I thought you wanted to be an Engineer?”

“I did,” he shrugged, “but the Gods need me to be a farmer.” He smiled broadly, that beautiful, happy smile I fell in love with.

“So be an Engineer, don’t let them choose,” I told him.

He frowned. “But they need me to be a farmer. The Gods know, Chase.”

My love died, like it always did, and I had walked and walked, following the Jordan River south until I reached its terminus—the Dead Sea. As I lay floating in the Dead Sea, I thought about drowning myself in the warm, salty embrace. After hours, I lost my nerve, and swam back to the shore and kept walking. South, into the Arabian Peninsula. I followed the Red Sea Coast for a week—I was in no hurry, my life had no meaning—when I came across a sign that pointed to a mountain called Jebel al-Lawz. A single word was spray painted beneath the mountain’s name—Hope.

Hope. I had been without hope for over twenty years.

I followed the road. It lead to a low, conical mountain. It was really more of a steep hill than a mountain. I had grown up in the sight of Mount Rainier rearing up like a monolith, looming over you every day clad in the blue-white majesty of its glaciers. Jebel al-Lawz was a squat, ugly, red mound, rising out of the desert, the summit blackened like it had been engulfed in flames.

As I neared the mountain, maybe just a few miles away, I passed through…something. It was a warm membrane of energy that gave way before me, enveloping me in golden light for the briefest instant, and then it passed. I blinked; the valley around the peak wasn’t empty anymore. Tents—colorful and ranging in shape, size, styles, and materials—were set up. They were pitched haphazardly, with no thought or planning.

People walked about. They were different. No-one dressed similarly, people laughed, children played. As I walked closer, I realized these were people who lived. What was this place? Who were these people? They saw me, and a hush seemed to fall about them. They began to gather, watching me with cautious faces.

“H-hello,” I hesitantly said. I felt a little afraid of them. I had never been afraid of my parents’ slaves; they would never have been able to harm me. But these people were free. I could see it in their eyes, in their postures, in the way some viewed me with hope, some with skepticism, or fear, or distrust.

The crowd parted, and a rugged young man and a young woman stepped out. The man was fit, sturdy, with brown hair and blue eyes, his arm around the woman; she was round-faced, a beautiful, welcoming smile gracing her lips. Her face was framed by braided black hair, coiled about her crown; reassurance filled her green eyes.

“You’re not their slaves?” I asked, chewing on my lips.

“No,” the man smiled. “We are the last free men and women. I am Doug Allard, and this is Tina, my wife.”

The woman, Tina, smiled, and threw her arms around my neck. I relaxed. “I’ve been searching for this for so long,” I whispered, my eyes brimming with tears.

“And we have waited even longer for you to arrive, Prophetess,” Tina whispered back.

“Prophetess?” I asked, pushing away from Tina. The crowd had grown larger, more than a hundred, and they all stared at me with…hope. I shivered despite the heat.

Doug nodded. “You are Chasity Glassner?”

“Yeah.” I looked around. These people were free. There were others that resisted my parents’ evil. Hope bubbled inside me. Had I really found what I’ve been searching for? I pushed down my hope, trying to temper it with caution; I had been disappointed so many times. “What is this place?”

“The refuge,” Tina answered. “For forty years Doug and I have waited in the wilderness for you, gathering those who were not satisfied with the world, with your parents. Excluding the children, we number one hundred and forty-four; seventy-two men, seventy-two women.”

I swallowed, “Why are you waiting for me?”

“To guide us, to renew the Gift of the Spirit to mankind,” Doug answered. “To free the World from bondage.”

I’d found it. Relief ballooned inside me, along with hope. So many years of walking, of doubt and bitterness, had finally paid off. “So why do you need me for that?”

“You are the daughter of two Warlocks,” Tina answered. “You have rejected their lifestyle, and turned your back on evil. Only you can perform the prayer of Rapha.”

I frowned, not recalling that prayer from the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. “What does it do?”

“Gives back hope to mankind,” Tina answered.

“My wife and I are the last Priests living. Your parents hunted down the last few of us, the final threats to their power,” Doug sadly said. “But we have done our duty, and hid while your parents dominated the world, all for this day.”

The Magicks of the Witch of Endor talked about Priests and Priestesses, men and women granted the powers of Heaven to fight Warlocks and Demons. “So you need my help to exorcise my parents?” I asked, smiling. That would free mankind.

We could be a family again. “Thank you!” I smiled, tears misting my eyes. “This is perfect! It’ll break their mind control and make them human again!”

Tina gave me a sad look. “I’m so sorry, child.”

I frowned. “Why? Exorcising won’t harm my parents. Right?”

“Your parents are beyond exorcism. They’ve absorbed the powers of Lucifer, Molech, Lilith, and many other Powers. No Priestess has the strength to overcome that. Only a Priest’s sword killing your parents would work, and…”

“And Father’s immortal,” I whispered. Hope burst inside me, replaced by cold dread. I pushed down the panic. They mentioned the Rapha prayer. “That’s what the new prayer is for, right? Stripping them of their powers?” Please, please, please, let that be true.

Tina’s green, sad eyes peered at me.

“They have to die?” That couldn’t be my voice; I hadn’t sounded that young in years.

“I’m sorry,” Tina whispered.

I’m sorry. The words were a punch to my stomach. I stumbled back; the world seemed to spin about me as tears burned down my cheeks. This can’t be happening! Not after all my searching. “I have to kill him?” My voice cracked, wavered. Oh, no. Father made himself immortal to everything except me. “Please, no! There has to be another way!”

Tina hugged me as I started weeping. “It’s your choice, Prophetess. The World can remain their slaves, or you can set them free.”

No, no, no. I wanted to free mankind, not murder my parents. This couldn’t be happening! I pushed away and ran. Tears stained my eyes, almost blinding me as I raced down a trail. I hated what my parents had done to mankind, but I loved them.

I couldn’t kill them, right? And it wouldn’t just be them, but all the people bound to them. The sluts, my half-siblings, the bodyguards and maids. My family for the World’s freedom. How fair was that?

This would be so much easier if I could hate them!

I ran up the side of the mountain, scampering up the gentle slope, climbing higher and higher. I scrabbled over red boulders; my years of walking had given me great endurance. I paused only to drink from my water bottle, then kept climbing, ignoring the sun pounding on my back. The rocks turned black; I found myself at the summit.

I stared out at the expanse of the Arabian Desert. Brown and yellow leading off in all directions, with just a smear of blue in the distance, the Red Sea. Once, black-robed Bedouin had wandered this wasteland, eking out an existence in the harsh landscape. But they had been moved to cities along the coast, ostensibly for their own good.

We are Gods, Chase. That gives us all the right.

Whatever crushes individuality is despotism. The words from ‘On Liberty’ echoed in my mind. Could I kill my parents? Was the blood of the few hundred people—my family—worth freeing billions from bondage? Did I have to destroy my soul to save mankind?

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. Thomas Jefferson had written those words when the American Colonies revolted against the British when they had no say in their own governance, no representatives in Parliament.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Other words written by Jefferson.

Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

My parents had robbed the world of Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness, leaving them only with their Lives. They may have meant well, but the results were monstrous. They had pruned all the character out mankind with their tyranny, leaving behind only stunted bushes shaped to my parents’ desires. Mere automatons going through the motions of living.

There was a sci-fi movie my Father loved, and I remembered at the end as one of the characters was dying, having sacrificing himself for the ship, he had said, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

One last tear rolled down my cheek as the sun set, and the stars twinkled to life across the crystal clear sky above me.

The needs of the many.

I watched the stars wheel across the night sky, twinkling down on us. I envied them. They had no concerns, no torn emotions. They just burned brightly, happily fusing hydrogen into helium into lithium into iron, until finally they died, whether in fiery explosions or guttering out like a candle.

As dawn neared, blushing the horizon in pink, I heard footsteps behind me—Doug and Tina. He held a scroll and she held a black knife. I stood and faced them. I didn’t know what to do, what was the right choice. Did the needs of the many outweigh the lives of my family? Were their needs more important than the wounds to my soul?

“Prophetess,” Tina greeted.

“I’m not your Prophetess,” I muttered. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

“I understand, child,” she whispered. “I would take the burden from you if I could.”

Her eyes burned with conviction. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what to do, so I just blurted out, “What is that scroll?”

“The original copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor,” Doug said, handing me the scroll. “I have kept it safe for forty years, waiting for the day you’d arrive. The prayer of Rapha is contained at the end of the scroll. Perhaps it will help with your decision.”

I unfurled the scroll. It contained square Hebrew letters and was written in Aramaic. It was familiar. The memory of Sam’s lessons in Semitic Languages from my childhood came back, and I recognized passages from her translation. I read the final prayer, frowning. This wasn’t in the copy my parents possessed.

My parents had definitely never seen this prayer. If they had, I would never have been allowed to roam free. “And the Creator knew, in his infinite Wisdom,” it read, “that a time would come when his Priest and Priestess would fall against the forces of the Adversary. Darkness would cover the world, and again the Gifts of the Spirit would be needed, spread by the words of the chosen Prophet, one born of the union of two Warlocks, bound by the Zimmah ritual, and used as the focus of the Eylowm ritual. Only the Prophet can restore the Gift to mankind upon the summit of Mount Sinai. The Prophet must…”

I looked up at Doug and Tina in horror as comprehension flooded my exhausted mind. “The Eylowm ritual is a trap?” My hand trembled. “My parents were manipulated into their own downfall?”

“Why else is it so powerful?” asked Tina. “Immortality? No weapon, no force, no illness can harm your father, let alone kill him. It’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it?”

“That’s monstrous!”

“Your parents made the choice of their own free will,” Doug softly answered. “They made their pacts with the Adversary, gained power in exchange for their souls. They declared themselves false gods, and unleashed the demonic hordes upon mankind. Choices have consequences, Chasity, and the Creator is always ready to turn those consequences to his advantage.”

“If He’s so powerful, why didn’t He stop my parents!” I shouted. “Why do I have to do this? Why?”

“You do not have to do this,” Tina smiled. “It’s your choice. Free will is the most important thing in all of creation; He would never take that away from you. That’s why He didn’t interfere with your parents. They had to be free to choose, or there’s no choice at all. Without choice, then we’re just mindless puppets, slaves, and that’s not what He wants.”

Slaves. My parents’ had enslaved mankind; the most monstrous thing imaginable. They had made their choice, and denied all the world of theirs. It wasn’t right. The needs of the many have to come before the needs of the few. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. John Stuart Mills was right; my parents had harmed, were harming, all of mankind, and therefore it was only right that power should be exercised against them. A strange calm filled me. I had made my decision.

“I will be your Prophetess,” I answered; my chin held high.

Doug nodded.

“This is a Mispachs. One of three forged by Cain from the metal of a falling star,” Tina said, handing it to me. “Nick the blade, and your blood will bind it to you. Anyone wounded with this blade will die. Only your lifeblood will save them.”

I nodded; Lilith had almost killed Mother with one. I took the ugly, black-iron blade, stared at it, then I pricked my thumb. A drop of dark blood beaded on my tan flesh. I smeared it on the blade. The dagger turned red for a moment, drinking in my blood, then went back to ugly black. I was connected to the damned thing; it felt like an open wound throbbing on my forehead. Tina handed me a sheath, and I put the dagger into my pack.

I reread the scroll again, committing the Prayer of Rapha to memory, and turned to face the rising sun. “This is Mount Sinai?” That was the only place in the world the spell could be cast. “I thought that was up on the Sinai Peninsula, not in the middle of Arabia.”

Doug nodded. “Much has been lost in the thousands of years since the last Prophet stood here and gave the Third Gift to mankind.”

I raised my arms to the rising sun. “The Highest One, hear the prayers of your Children! Deliver us from evil, and send your Spirit to Gift us with your Blessing, to Gird us with Belief, and Arm us with Faith!”

Power flowed into me, golden, beautiful, pure. It flowed from Doug, from Tina, it flowed from my parents half the world away. More power flowed from the spirits of the dead, the men and women who had died unable to pass their Gift on: Isabella, Agnes, John, Gregory, Eustace, Isolde, Tristram, and more. So many more. One hundred and forty-four souls gave up their Gifts, until they were all contained within me.

I was the Prophetess, the Vessel, and I shared the Gift, giving a part to each of the one hundred and forty-four gathered—the two atop the mountain, and the one-hundred and forty-two at the base, the new Priests and Priestesses, the new Monks and Nuns—to save the world from the evils of my parents.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 53.

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel Kapitel 19: Die Sullivans

 

 

Der Pakt mit dem Teufel

Kapitel 19: Die Sullivans

Von mypenname3000

Übersetzt von Horem

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Male/Female, Teen male/Female, Males/Female, Females/Teen female, Male/Females/Teen female, Mind Control, Incest, Anal, Oral, Creampie, Orgy, Magic

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.



Click here for Kapitel 18



„Du hast einen hübschen Arsch“, sagte ich und kniff Mary in ihren Knackarsch, als sie die Dusche einschaltete. „Habe ich dir das schon einmal gesagt?“

„Immer wieder“, sagte Mary und schaute mich an. „Und ich höre es immer wieder gerne.“

Mein Sperma lief ihr aus dem Arsch und aus der Fotze, weißliche Bäche an ihren Oberschenkeln, die sie total sexy aussehen ließen. Wir hatten die letzten eineinhalb Stunden im Bett verbracht und gefickt. Wir hatten jede erdenkliche Stellung benutzt und ich war in jedem Loch gekommen, das mein verdorbenes Fohlen hat. Ich drückte ihren Arsch und genoss das Gefühl ihres Fleisches in meiner Hand.

Mary schob meine Hand weg. „Hast du noch nicht genug?“ fragte sie mit einem zufriedenen Lächeln.

„Ich habe nie genug von dir“, sagte ich. Ich zog sie an mich und küsste sie auf die Lippen. „Ich werde deiner niemals müde, Mare.“

„Hör auf“, protestierte Mary halbherzig. Ich nahm ihre Schwäche wahr und küsste sie wieder. „Meine Familie kommt gleich. Wir müssen uns fertig machen, Mark.“

Das Bad war in Dampf eingehüllt und Mary schlüpfte aus meinem Griff und betrat die Dusche. Warmes Wasser rann auf ihren perfekten nackten Körper. Es lief an ihren Brüsten vorbei und an ihrem Bauch entlang zu dem herzförmigen Haarbusch oberhalb ihrer Fotze. Sie hielt den Kopf unter das Wasser und ihr rotbraunes Haar verteilte sich auf ihrem Rücken. Ich ging auch in die Dusche und drückte mich gegen ihren Rücken. Mein harter Schwanz rieb sich an ihrem Arsch, während ich meine Hände um sie herum legte und ihre Brüste und ihre harten Nippel fand.

Mary seufzte vor Lust auf. „Wir haben keine Zeit, Mark“, flüsterte sie. Ihre Nippel waren harte Knöpfchen unter meinen Fingern.

„Du bist so wunderschön“, flüsterte ich und küsste ihren Hals. „Ich kann deinem wunderschönen Körper einfach nicht widerstehen.“

Mary drehte sich im meiner Umarmung zu mir um. Lust glitzerte in ihren Augen. Ich stöhnte, als sie nach meinem harten Schwanz griff und ihn mit ihrer nassen Hand wichste. Ihre Brüste waren gegen meine Brust gedrückt und ihre Nippel waren steinhart. Ich ließ eine Hand an ihrem Rücken nach unten rutschen und fasste ihren Knackarsch an.

„Ich dachte, wir müssen uns fertig machen?“ fragte ich und genoss das Gefühl ihrer Hand an meinem Schwanz.

„Das müssen wir auch“, flüsterte sie und sie spreizte ihre Beine ein wenig mehr. „Meine Familie kommt nämlich gleich.“

Ihre Hände führten meinen Schwanz an den heißen Eingang zu ihrer Muschi. Ich spürte ihre Schamlippen an meiner Eichel und dann spürte ich das Loch, das nach innen führte. Ich stieß langsam nach vorne und genoss das Gefühl, wie ihre Fotze meinen Schwanz umschloss. „Wenn wir uns fertig machen müssen“, flüsterte ich in ihr Ohr, „warum steckst du dann meinen Schwanz in deine Fotze?“

„Weil ich es liebe, wenn er in mir ist“, keuchte Mary, als ich innen anstieß. „Du bist so stattlich, dass ich dir einfach nicht widerstehen kann. Also fick mich schon! Reite dein Fohlen!“

Ihr Lippen waren auf meinen, ihre Zunge war in meinem Mund. Ich nahm ihre Hüften und sie schlang ihre Beine um meine Taille und ihre Arme um meinen Hals, als ich sie gegen die Wand der Dusche drückte. Dann beendete sie den Kuss und stöhnte leidenschaftlich in mein Ohr und hielt mich fest, während ich begann, langsam meinen Schwanz in ihrer Muschi zu bewegen.

„Heute Abend werde ich mit meinen beiden Schwestern Liebe machen“, flüsterte Mary mir ins Ohr. „Meine ältere Schwester Shannon, die Bitch und die kleine Missy. Ich werde ihre Muschis auslecken und sie werden meine auslecken. Und dann kannst du sie ficken.“ Sie packte meinen Schwanz fester mit ihrer Fotze. „Stell dir das mal vor, die Sullivan Mädchen, nackt und willig in deinem Bett!“

Ich stellte sie mir vor. Shannon, eine reifere Mary, ihr Körper weiter entwickelt. Missy war Marys jüngere Schwester, noch in der Oberschule. Alle drei, gemeinsam im Bett. Drei rothaarige Schönheiten, die sich gegenseitig streichelten. Wen würde ich als erste nehmen? Die erfahrenere Shannon oder die jugendliche, vielleicht noch jungfräuliche Missy?

„Du bist die Beste, Mare“, keuchte ich. „Es ist so süß von dir, dass du deine Schwestern mit mir teilen willst.“

Mary schnurrte kehlig. „Und nachdem du in die verdorbenen Fotzen meiner Schwestern gespritzt hast, werde ich deinen Saft aus ihren Schnallen herauslecken.“

Ich konnte mir Mary vorstellen, wie sie vor ihrer Schwester kniete und sich die Sahnetorte genehmigte, während ich mein Fohlen von hinten nahm. Ihre Schwester würde sich vor Lust winden und Mary darum bitten, ihre Fotze noch härter zu lecken. Sie würde darum betteln, dass Mary ihr einen Orgasmus schenkte. Und wenn ich dann mein Sperma in Mary geschossen hatte, würden die beiden Schwestern tauschen und dann würde auch noch Marys Sahnetorte gegessen.

„Ja, Mare!“ keuchte ich und meine Eier zogen sich zusammen. „Oh ja, ich kann es gar nicht abwarten! Hier kommt es, Mare! Du bist ein richtig verdorbenes Fohlen gewesen!“ stöhnte ich, als mein Sperma in sie hineinschoss.

„Ja, ja, spritz mich voll!“ keuchte sie. „Bist du so aufgeregt?“

„Ja!“ keuchte ich und lehnte mich gegen sie.

„Hör nicht auf!“ drängte mich Mary. „Ich will auch kommen!“

Unser Fleisch schlug gegeneinander, als ich sie weiterfickte. „Und bist du auch so aufgeregt, dass du die Mösen seiner Schwestern bekommst?“

„Ja, ich kann es auch nicht abwarten“, stöhnte sie. Sie fickte ihre Hüften gegen mich. „Ich werde…“ Ein Klopfen an der Badezimmertür unterbrach sie. „Ja?“ rief Mary ärgerlich.

Die Tür öffnete sich und jemand kam herein. „Sorry Herrin“, entschuldigte sich Thamina, unsere arabische Schlampe. Thamina war eine der drei Schlampen, die uns heute Abend bedienen würden. Die anderen beiden waren Desiree, die frühere Hausherrin und Fiona, eine Kellnerin aus Seattle. „Deine Schwester Shannon und ihr Freund sind angekommen.“

Mary stöhnte und zuckte mir mit ihren Hüften entgegen. „Die sind zu früh. Sag ihnen, dass wir uns gerade fertig machen und dass wir gleich da sind.“

„Soll ich ihnen sagen, was ihr gerade macht?“ fragte Thamina amüsiert.

„Nein!“ sagte Mary keuchend. „Und benehmt euch so gut wie möglich. Ihr seid heute Abend ganz normale Zofen und keine Fick-Zofen.“

„Natürlich, Herrin“, murmelte Thamina.

„Du wirst mich vor den anderen heute Abend Miss Mary nennen, Schlampe“, stöhnte Mary. „Oder ich werde dir deinen Arsch versohlen, bis er kirschrot ist und du eine Woche lang nicht sitzen kannst!“ Marys Fotze quetschte meinen Schwanz ein. „Hmmm, dein dunkler Arsch, der bei jedem Schlag wackelt und deine versaute kleine Fotze, die bei jedem Schlag nasser wird! Hmmm, fick mich fester, Mark!“ Ich gehorchte und fickte Mary hart. Unsere Schöße schlugen in der Dusche gegeneinander. Ihre Fotze verkrampfte sich auf meinem Schwanz und sie schrie ihren Orgasmus heraus. „Mein geiler Hengst! Oh verdammt, jaaa!“

Ich fickte sie immer härter, während sie noch in ihrer Lust stöhnte. Ihre Fotze klammerte meinen Schwanz, als ein zweiter Orgasmus ihrem ersten folgte. Dieser war nicht ganz so stark wie der erste, aber trotzdem zuckte Mary an mir. Ihre Fotze molk gierig Sperma aus meinem Schwanz . Ich spürte, wie sich meine Eier zusammenzogen und ich stöhnte in das Ohr von meinem Fohlen. Dann gab ich ihr drei guter Spritzer von meinem klebrigen Saft.

Ich war als erster fertig. Ich hatte eine Bluejeans angezogen und ein weißes Hemd mit blauen Nadelstreifen. Ich war frisch rasiert und hatte ein nach Moschus riechendes Aftershave benutzt, das Mary mir gekauft hatte. „Hmmm, du riechst toll“, schnurrte Mary und küsste mich auf die Lippen. Meine Hände fuhren nach unten und drückten ihren Knackarsch. Sie griff nach hinten und nahm meine Hände weg. „Nein, du gehst jetzt nach unten und unterhältst unsere Gäste.“

Ich seufzte und rückte meinen harten Schwanz in meiner Hose zurecht. Dann verließ ich die nackte Mary, die sich vor dem Badezimmerspiegel Makeup auflegte. Ich ging die Treppe nach unten und hörte Stimmen aus dem Wohnzimmer. Fiona kam in einem konservativen Zofen-Outfit an mir vorbei. Es war zumindest konservativ, wenn man es mit ihren normalen Sachen verglich. Es war ein klassisches französisches Outfit, ein Oberteil mit tiefem Ausschnitt, der mit Spitze gesäumt war, ein kurzer Rock mit mehreren Lagen Petticoats darunter und Netzstrümpfe, die mit Strumpfhaltern an ihren wundervollen Beinen gehalten wurden. Ihr Haar hatte sie in einem Pferdeschwanz zusammengebunden und darüber trug sie eine weiße Kappe. In ihrer Hand hatte sie ein Tablett mit drei Weingläsern und zwei Gläsern mit Mineralwasser.

„Meister“, begrüßte sie mich. Dann wurde sie rot. „Ich meine, Mr. Mark.“

„Pass nur auf, dass Mary so etwas nicht mitbekommt“, sagte ich. „Sie sucht jemanden, dem sie den Hintern versohlen kann.“

„Danke für die Warnung, Sir.“ Fiona lächelte und ich folgte ihr ins Wohnzimmer, wo sie die Gläser auf kleinen Sets auf dem Tisch abstellte.

Marys Familie und die Freunde ihrer Schwestern saßen alle nervös im Wohnzimmer. Ich kannte dieses Gefühl ganz genau von meinem Job als Staubsaugervertreter. Selbst nach Jahren, in denen ich diesen Job ausgeübt hatte, fühlte ich mich jedes Mal ein wenig unwohl in einem neuen Haus. Marys Vater stand auf. Er war ein großer Mann, ein wenig korpulent in der Mitte. Er hatte rotes Haar, das von grauen Strähnen durchzogen war. Er hatte es in einem Pferdeschwanz zusammengebunden und ein hellroter Bart bedeckte sein schmales Gesicht. Er hatte grüne Augen in derselben Farbe, die auch Mary hatte.

„Mark?“ fragte er und hielt mir seine Hand hin.

„Ja“, antwortete ich. Er hatte einen festen Griff. „Ich bin Mark Glassner. Sie müssen Sean sein.“ Ich bemerkte einen goldenen Ehering an seinem Finger. „Oh, Mary hat mir gar nicht gesagt, dass Sie wieder geheiratet haben.“

Sean blinzelte, dann schaute er auf seine Hand. „Oh nein, es ist nur…“ Er seufzte. „Ich bin sicher, Mary hat Ihnen von ihrer Mutter erzählt.“

Ich nickte. Mary hatte mir erzählt, dass ihre Mutter als sie sechs Jahre alt war, mit einem Musiker durchgebrannt war. Ihre Mutter wollte Spaß haben, also verließ sie ihre Familie, um mit irgendeiner Indi-Rock-Band herumzuhuren. Marys Mutter hatte einen detaillierten Brief geschrieben und ihrem Mann all den Spaß beschrieben, den sie mit ihrem Freund und auch mit anderen hatte. Sie hatte sich scheiden lassen und hatte auch das Erziehungsrecht für ihre Töchter abgegeben. Mary war heute noch verletzt von ihrem Verhalten.

„Tut mir leid“, sagte ich. Mir fiel nichts Besseres ein. Dieser Mann war anscheinend nie darüber hinweg gekommen, dass seine Frau ihn verlassen hatte.

„Es geht mir gut“, sagte Sean. „Egal, das hier ist meine Älteste, Shannon.“ Sean zeigte auf eine feuerrote Frau Anfang Zwanzig. Shannon war größer als Mary und sie hatte das schmale Gesicht ihres Vaters. Wenn sie nicht das rote Haar gehabt hätte, wäre ich nie auf die Idee gekommen, dass sie Marys Schwester war. Sie hatte eine enge Bluejeans an, die ihren festen Arsch zeigte und eine lila Trachtenbluse, die mit kleinen purpurfarbenen Blumen am Ausschnitt verziert war.

„Ich freue mich, dass wir uns kennenlernen“, rief Shannon und warf ihre Arme um meinen Hals. Sie drückte mich. Ich spürte, wie sich ihre Brüste durch die lockere Bluse an mich drückten. Sie fühlten sich größer an als die von Mary.

Shannon ließ mich wieder los und sah mich von oben bis unten an. „Du bist auf jeden Fall schon mal besser angezogen als Mike“, sagte sie. Mike war das Arschloch, mit dem Mary ging, als wir uns trafen. Die beiden kannten sich seit ihrer Zeit in der Oberschule und er nutzte sie aus. Mary hatte Angst, so zu werden wie ihre Mutter und deshalb lief sie nicht weg sondern blieb bei ihm, selbst als sie den Eindruck hatte, dass er sie betrog. Irgendwann einmal würde ich mir diesen Typ mal vornehmen und ihn dafür bestrafen, wie er sie behandelt hatte.

„Pass ja auf, dass du ihr nicht das Herz brichst“, warnte Shannon mich mit der Entschlossenheit einer Mutter.

„Das tue ich bestimmt nicht“, sagte ich. Ihre Augen hatten die Farbe von Haselnüssen mit kleinen grünen Sprenkeln. Sie bohrten sich in mich. „Ich liebe sie.“

Da lächelte sie wieder.

Die Jüngste, Missy, stand hinter ihrer Schwester. Missy sah aus, wie eine jüngere Ausgabe von Mary. Sie hatte dasselbe herzförmige Gesicht, das mit Sommersprossen bedeckt war, aber sie hatte blaue Augen. Ihr Haar war heller, rotblond. Sie hatte zwei Zöpfe. Sie war schlaksig, offenbar noch in der Entwicklung und sah so aus, als wäre sie etwa fünfzehn Jahre alt. Sie quietschte glücklich und warf sich mir an den Hals.

„Oh mein Gott, ich kann die Hochzeit gar nicht erwarten“, sprudelte Missy. „Ich habe mir schon immer einen großen Bruder gewünscht!“ Sei drückte ihre Lippen schnell an meine Wange und ließ mich wieder los.

„Ich… äh…, nett dich kennen zu lernen, Missy“, stammelte ich. Ich war durch ihren Enthusiasmus leicht verstört. Ihr Körper hatte sich so gut angefühlt, als sie sich gegen mich gedrückt hatte, kleine Brüste und die geschmeidige Figur eines Teenagers. Mein Schwanz wurde in meiner Hose noch härter, als ich daran dachte, dass ich diese beiden Mädchen noch heute Abend ficken würde. Ich wollte es eigentlich sofort tun, aber Mary wollte erst ein schönes normales Abendessen mit ihrer Familie.

„Ich bin George, Shannons Freund“, sagte ein Mann in meinem Alter. Er hatte kurzes schwarzes Haar. Er hatte die typische Frisur eines Geschäftsmannes. Er war ganz ordentlich angezogen. Er trug eine graue Hose und ein weißes Hemd und darüber eine graue Weste. Er hatte einen grauen Filzhut auf dem Kopf und ich musste beinahe lachen. Er versuchte, cool auszusehen und ihn nicht gleich herunter zu nehmen. Ich schüttelte seine Hand. „Du hast ein tolles Haus. Mary hat nie erwähnt, was du so machst.“

Ich lächelte. „Poker“, sagte ich. „Ich bin Berufsspieler.“

„Kein Bankräuber?“ fragte George. Ganz offensichtlich hatte er die Nachrichten gesehen.

Nun, das war ich wirklich und mit meinen Kräften war das ein Kinderspiel. „Nein, das war ein Missverständnis. Du kannst Mary gerne fragen. Sie war dabei, als das eine oder andere passiert ist. Und trotzdem hat sich das FBI nicht davon abhalten lassen, meine Tür aufzubrechen und uns zu erschrecken.“

„Natürlich“, sagte Sean. „Warum sollte sich Mary auch mit einem Bankräuber einlassen?“

Gott, es fiel mir schwer, ernst zu bleiben. Mary hatte keine Einwände erhoben, als ich ihr gesagt hatte, dass ich eine Bank ausgeraubt hatte, im Gegenteil, sie war nass geworden davon und wir hatten leidenschaftlich gefickt. Der letzte unserer Gäste saß still auf dem Sofa und nippte an seinem Mineralwasser. Er war ein Teenager. Fünfzehn oder so, im gleichen Alter wie Missy. Er trug ein rotes Kapuzenshirt und eine Jeans. Sein linkes Ohr war gepierct und sein Haar war lang und an den Seiten rasiert. Ich schaute ihn fragend an.

„Das ist Damien“, sagte Missy aufgeregt. „Wir gehen schon ewig miteinander! Schon seit dem Frühling! Er ist der Allerbeste!“ Missy starrte mit glasigen Augen auf den Jüngling. Jugendliebe tropfte aus ihrem ganzen Körper.

„Hi“, murmelte er und er schrumpfte in die Couch hinein, weil alle Erwachsenen ihn anschauten.

Alle setzten sich wieder. Die Erwachsenen nahmen ihre Weingläser und Missy nahm sich das andere Mineralwasser, Shannon und George saßen nebeneinander auf der Couch neben Damien. Sean saß auf einem Sessel und Missy hatte es sich auf einer Lehne der Couch neben ihrem Damien bequem gemacht. Dessen Augen klebten an ihren schlanken Beinen und er hielt sein Glas vor seinen Schoß.

Ich war offenbar nicht der Einzige, der ein wenig Entspannung brauchte, dachte ich mit einem Lächeln.

„Poker also, das muss sehr aufregend sein“, sagte Sean. „Ich arbeite nur als Englischlehrer an der Oberschule.“

„Oh, ich denke, dass die Arbeit an einer Oberschule auch sehr aufregend sein kann.“ Ich dachte an den Spaß, den ich heute an der Rogers Oberschule gehabt hatte. Das war ein Fehler. Ich musste jetzt wirklich etwas mit meinem Schwanz machen.

Fiona stand am Ende des Tisches. Sie sah in ihrem Outfit so süß und sexy aus. Gott, ich konnte einfach nicht bis nach dem Abendessen warten, ich musste jetzt etwas ficken! Ich fing ihren Blick auf und bedeutete ihr, dass sie in den Flur gehen sollte, wo hinter der ersten Tür das Bad lag.

Thamina kam herein. „Kann ich etwas für Sie tun, Mei.., Mister Mark?“

„Nein, ich gehe mal eben zu Desiree, um zu sehen, was das Essen macht. Sie ist eine wunderbare Köchin. Thamina wird für euch sorgen.“ Ich stand auf. „Entschuldigt mich bitte einen Moment.“

„Mein Gott, ich bin schon am Verhungern“, sagte Shannon. „Ich habe heute Mittag nur einen Salat gegessen. Ich muss auf meine Figur aufpassen.“ Sei kicherte und nahm einen Schluck Wein. Ich schaute ihre Figur an, und was auch immer sie machte, es funktionierte.

„Wie viele Angestellte habt ihr denn?“ fragte Sean. Er schaute auf Thamina. „Sind das nicht ein bisschen viel?“

„Ach, wir haben genug“, antwortete ich. „Mary wollte, dass der heutige Abend ganz besonders wird. Wenn ihr mich bitte jetzt entschuldigen wollt“, sagte ich. Ich brauchte wirklich endlich eine Entspannung für meinen Schwanz.

Ich verschwand im Esszimmer und ging durch die Küche. Es roch dort sehr lecker und Desiree sah mich neugierig an, als ich an ihre vorbei ging. Ich ging an der anderen Seite aus der Küche hinaus und kam in einen weiteren Flur. Dieser Flur führte zur Treppe in die erste Etage und zu dem Bad, in dem Fiona schon auf mich wartete. Sie hatte ein verdorbenes Lächeln auf dem Gesicht. Ich schloss die Tür und hielt meinen Finger auf meine Lippen. Fionas Lächeln wurde breiter.

Ich beugte sie über das Waschbecken, schlug den schwarzen Rock ihres Kostüms und die Petticoats nach oben und legte ihren Arsch frei und den nassen Schlitz ihrer Fotze. Ihre Vulva war vor Sehnsucht geschwollen und ihre kleinen Schamlippen ragten zwischen den äußeren hervor. Ich fischte meinen Schwanz heraus und seufzte erleichtert, als ich ihn langsam in Fionas warmen Schlitz schob.

Ich fickte sie langsam mit starken tiefen Stößen und genoss das fantastische Gefühl ihrer Muschi an meinem Schwanz. Fiona legte eine Hand auf ihren Mund, um ein Stöhnen zu unterdrücken. Es war etwas sehr Erregendes dabei, eine Frau zu ficken, wenn quasi nebenan eine ganze Gruppe Menschen sich unterhält. Es wurde im Wohnzimmer langsam lauter, weil der Wein die Stimmung hob.

Die Tür zum Bad wurde geöffnet und eine verblüffte Missy Sullivan schaute herein. Ihr Mund stand offen. Sie wusste nicht, wie sie sich verhalten sollte. Dann erschien auf ihrem Gesicht Zorn anstelle der Überraschung und sie schaute mich mit ihren blauen Augen an. Sie atmete tief ein und wollte schon schreien und ich wollte ihr schon einen Befehl geben, als Mary plötzlich hinter ihr stand und eine Hand auf den Mund ihrer kleinen Schwester legte.

„Schsch, Missy, ich bin es“, flüsterte Mary. „Ich lass dich wieder los, aber du darfst nicht schreien.“

Missy nickte. „Dein Verlobter ist… ist… mit einer anderen Frau…“ Missys Gesicht war rot wie eine Tomate und sie versuchte, wegzuschauen, aber ihr Blick hing an der Stelle, an der mein Schwanz sich in Fionas Fotze rein und raus bewegte.

„Das ist okay, Baby“, flüsterte Mary. Sie schob Missy vorsichtig ins Bad und schloss die Tür hinter sich. „Mark ist ein echter Mann“, fuhr Mary fort und flüsterte ihrer Schwester ins Ohr. Sie waren gleich groß. Mary legte einen Arm um Missy und drückte sich an ihren Rücken. „Und ein richtiger Mann nimmt sich wen er will wann er will.“

„Aber… aber…“ wollte Missy protestieren. Ihre Gedanken schwirrten durcheinander durch ihren Kopf.

„Komm, schau zu, wie ein richtiger Mann fickt“, schnurrte Mary. „Schau zu, wie sich ein richtiger Mann seine Lust bei einer verdorbenen kleinen Schlampe befriedigt, die später verhauen werden wird.“ War es fair, Fiona dafür zu bestrafen, dass sie meinen Befehlen gehorcht hatte? Nein, aber das konnte Mary nicht aufhalten. Sie verhaute nun einmal gerne Ärsche und würde jede Ausrede benutzen, um das zu rechtfertigen.

Meine Stöße wurden heftiger. Ich liebte es immer, Zuschauer zu haben und Marys kleine Schwester war eine wirklich verlockende Zuschauerin. Das musste wohl auch Fiona denken, den sie schrie jetzt in ihre Hand, während ihre Fotze jetzt meinen Schwanz fest umkrampfte. Vielleicht lag das aber auch daran, dass sie erregt war, weil sie von Mary verhauen werden würde.

„Der ist groß!“ bewunderte Missy mich. „Viel größer als der von Damien.“

„Damien ist ja auch erst fünfzehn“, sagte Mary. „Er wird schon noch ein wenig wachsen. Stell dir mal diesen Schwanz in deiner Muschi vor, Missy. Der würde sich sicher besser anfühlen als das kleine Teil von Damien. Bestimmt würdest du toll kommen! Bist du eigentlich schon einmal mit Damien gekommen?“

„Nein“, flüsterte Missy. „Es fühlt sich zwar gut an, aber es kommt mir nie.“ Missy biss sich auf die Unterlippe. „Willst du etwa, dass ich mit ihm…?“

„Wie fändest du das?“ fragte Mary.

„Ich liebe Damien“, sagte Missy. „Und Damien liebt mich auch. Ich habe ihm meine Jungfräulichkeit geschenkt. Wir werden heiraten und ganz viele Kinder haben.“

„Natürlich, Kleines“, flüsterte Mary. „Aber Ficken und Liebe haben nichts miteinander zu tun. Mark liebt mich, aber er fickt gerade Fiona. Und ich liebe Mark und ich ficke andere Leute.“

„Wirklich?“ fragte Missy neugierig. „Wen?“

„Fiona hier.“

„Du machst es mit einer Frau?“ keuchte Missy. „Wow!“

„Es kommt ihm gleich“, sagte Mary. „Scheu dir genau sein Gesicht an. Seine Eier sind soweit. Wenn ein Mann so schaut, dann kann ihn nichts mehr aufhalten.“

Ich biss meine Zähne zusammen. Die Unterhaltung der beiden trieb mich über die Kante und ich gab Fiona meine Ladung. Ich zog meinen Schwanz aus Fiona heraus und Missys Augen hingen an meinem nassen Schwanz und dann sah sie, wie mein weißer Saft aus Fionas Fotze lief.

„Das war die Arbeit eines richtigen Mannes, Missy“, sagte Mary. „Erzähl bitte keinem davon. Das hier bleibt unser kleines Geheimnis, okay?“

Missy nickte. Sie starrte erstaunt auf Fionas Muschi. Mary öffnete die Tür und gab ihr einen kleinen Schubs. Dann ging sie um mich herum. Selbst zornig sah Mary in ihrem schwarzen Kleid atemberaubend aus. Es war eng und klebte an ihren Kurven. Und es hatte einen tiefen Ausschnitt und zeigte eine Menge von ihren Titten. Schwarze Strümpfe bedeckten ihre schlanken Beine. Sie wurden von einem Strumpfhaltergürtel gehalten, dessen Clips unter dem Kleid hervorschauten.

„Du solltest dich benehmen, Mark Glassner“, sagte sie ärgerlich.

„Sorry Mare“, entschuldigte ich mich. „Ich war geil.“

Mary rollte die Augen. „Wann bist du mal nicht geil?“

„Nie.“ Ich lächelte. „Du siehst atemberaubend aus, Mare. Ich liebe dieses Kleid an dir.“ Mary lächelte.

„Hast du jetzt genug Druck abgelassen oder muss ich mir Sorgen machen, dass du dich beim Essen wegstiehlst und eine der Schlampen in den Arsch fickst?“

„Ich werde brav sein“, versprach ich.

Mary schlug Fiona auf den Arsch. „Wisch das Sperma weg und komm zum Bedienen.“ Dann fasste Mary mich am Arm und zog mich aus dem Bad heraus.

Shannon und Sean freuten sich, als sie Mary sahen. Und Missy hatte ein wissendes Lächeln auf den Lippen, als Fiona ein wenig nervös hereinkam. Aber sie sagte nichts. Shannon umarmte ihre Schwester ein wenig länger als Schwestern das normalerweise machen und ihre Hand streichelte Marys Rücken ein wenig sinnlicher, als man das normalerweise erwarten würde. Marys Wunsch, dass alle Frauen sie begehren sollten, funktionierte bei ihren Schwestern auch, besonders bei Shannon.

Das Abendessen war köstlich und bestand aus mehreren Gängen. Zuerst gab es eine delikate Tomatensuppe, natürlich selbstgemacht und anschließend kam ein Salat mit Mandeln. Als Hauptgang gab es Täubchen in Limone und Paprika mit einer delikaten Brotfüllung. Als Beilage gab es Stampfkartoffeln mit einer pikanten Soße. Der Wein floss reichlich und alle amüsierten sich und lachten viel. Es stellte sich heraus, dass Sean ein Spaßvogel war. Er erzählte gerne Geschichten aus der Schule von den Streichen, die die Schüler immer wieder anstellten.

Damien kam ein wenig aus sich heraus, als sich herausstelle, dass wir beide „Call of Duty“ spielten. „Der zehnte Teil wird sicher der Hammer werden!“ rief Damien. „Das wird sicher der absolute Heuler auf der Xbox Live!“ Er war eigentlich ein ganz netter Kerl, als er erst einmal seine Schüchternheit überwunden hatte. Missy saß neben ihm und nickte immer, wenn Damien etwas sagte. Aber sie starrte ständig mich an. Dabei hatte sie dieses Lächeln und diese leicht geröteten Wangen.

Shannon und ihr Freund unterhielten sich mit Mary. Shannon schaute fast die ganze Zeit in Marys Ausschnitt und immer wieder erzitterte Mary leicht. Mary lehnte sich zu mir und flüsterte mir zu, dass ihre Schwester mit ihr unter dem Tisch füßelte. Dabei ging sie gelegentlich so weit, mit ihrem Fuß bis zu Marys Muschi zu gehen und durch den Stoff ihres Höschens über ihren Kitzler zu reiben.

George hatte keine Ahnung von den Aktivitäten seiner Freundin unter dem Tisch. Das Gespräch drehte sich um meine Poker-Karriere und ich benutzte alles, was ich jemals aus der World Poker Series mitbekommen hatte, um mich durch dieses Gespräch zu lavieren. Es war Mary wichtig, dass ich keine Kontrolle auf ihre Familie ausübte, wenn das nicht nötig war.

Als das Dessert serviert wurde, entschuldigte sich Mary, um zur Toilette zu gehen und Shannon folgte ihr. Als Mary zurückkam, war ihr Haar ein wenig zerzaust und ihr Lippenstift war verschmiert. Ich zog sie zu mir und küsste sie und sie flüsterte: „Shannon hat mich geküsst.“

George küsste Shannon, als sie sich setzte. Teller mit Schokoladenkuchen und Vanilleeis wurden von Desiree selber hereingetragen und alle lobten das Essen. Sean bestand darauf, dass sie sich zu uns setzte und mit Thamina und Fiona etwas von dem Kuchen aß.

„Ich bin satt“, sagte Shannon. „Es hat sich gelohnt, den ganzen Tag zu hungern. Aber ich muss sicher jetzt eine Extrastunde im Fitness-Studio verbringen, um das alles wieder abzutrainieren.“

Eine weitere Flasche Wein wurde geöffnet und irgendwann fing zu Marys Verlegenheit ihr Vater an, von ihrer Kuscheldecke zu erzählen. „Mr. Fuzzydown, so hieß sie“, lachte Sean. „Und sie hat sie überall hin mitgeschleppt. Wenn Leute sie danach gefragt haben, hat sie immer gesagt ‚das ist Mr. Fuzzydown, mein Butler‘. Sie hatte sich in den Kopf gesetzt, dass ein Butler Leute beschützt.“

„Ich war damals vier Jahre alt, Papa.“ Mary wurde rot. „Ich habe bestimmt mal als kleines Kind irgendeinen dummen Film gesehen.“

„Sie wollte die Decke auch nie von ihrer Mutter oder von mir waschen lassen“, sagte Sean und Mary und ihre Schwestern verstummten. Sean räusperte sich. „Wie auch immer, es ist schon spät und ich sollte Damien jetzt nach Hause bringen.“

„Ach nein, es ist noch viel zu früh um zu gehen“, schmollte Mary. „Mark könnte doch mit Damiens Eltern reden und das regeln, Er ist sehr überzeugend. Wenn das mit seiner Poker-Karriere mal nicht mehr funktioniert, kann er noch in den Verkauf gehen. Er wird sich da dumm und dämlich verdienen. Außerdem haben meine Schwester und ich ein paar Frauensachen zu erledigen.“

„Was?“ fragte Missy aufgeregt.

Mary lächelte ihre Schwester nur geheimnisvoll an und drehte sich, um nach oben zu gehen. Shannon folgte ihr eilig. Wahrscheinlich hoffte sie darauf, dass sie sich weiter küssen könnten. Missy schaute mich an, wurde rot und beeilte sich, den beiden auch zu folgen.

Nachdem ich mit Damiens Eltern gesprochen hatte, zogen wir Männer uns ins Wohnzimmer zurück. „Ich habe ein Geschenk für euch“, sagte ich. „Gerade im Moment machen Mary und ihre Schwestern Liebe miteinander und ich werde nachher auch gehen und ihnen Gesellschaft leisten.“

Alle drei starrten mich an, als würde ich eine Fremdsprache sprechen. „Das ist nicht witzig, Mann“, sagte George. Seine Stimme klang ein wenig erhitzt.

„Es ist völlig in Ordnung, dass Mary und ich Sex mit den beiden haben“, sagte ich ruhig. „Euch macht das nichts aus. Und ich bin ganz sicher, dass es euren Freundinnen nichts ausmacht, wenn ihr heute Abend auch umgelegt werdet.“

Die Schlampen Desiree, Fiona und Thamina hatten nur auf mein Signal gewartet. Jetzt kamen sie nackt herein. Desiree hatte nussbraune Haut und ihre großen Brüste schwangen hin und her, als sie ging. Fionas Brüste hatten eine nette Größe, sie waren kleiner als die von Desiree und waren von roten Nippeln gekrönt. Ein Landestreifen aus feuerrotem Haar führte zu ihrer Muschi. Thamina trug immer noch ihr Kopftuch. Ihre dunklen Brüste waren von dunklen Nippeln gekrönt und ein V aus Haaren zeigte auf ihre Muschi.

„Sean, als mein künftiger Schwiegervater hast du das Recht der ersten Wahl“, sagte ich.

Sean schluckte und schaute mich an. „Ich hatte schon keine Frau mehr, seit…“ Seit seine Frau ihn verlassen hatte.

Ich nickte. „Dann ist es höchste Zeit, das zu ändern. Wähl eine aus und du wirst einen Abend erleben, den du nie vergessen wirst.“

„Gott, sie sind alle so wunderschön“, stöhnte er und er wählte Fiona.

Fionas blaue Augen funkelten vor Lust und sie drückte Sean in den Sessel. Dann breitete sie sich auf seinem Schoß aus und fing an, ihn zu küssen. Sean saß einen Moment stocksteif da. Dann schlang er seine Arme um sie und erwiderte ihren Kuss genauso leidenschaftlich.

Damien nahm sich Desiree. „Deine Titten sind so groß“, stöhnte er. „Wie die von Mrs. Corra, meiner Mathelehrerin.“ Langsam streckte er die Hand aus und drückte ihre große Titte. „Sie sind so weich und doch gleichzeitig so fest!“ bewunderte er sie.

„Nicht so feste“, beschwerte sich Desiree. „Eine Frau muss sanft angefasst werden.“

„Zeigst du mir das?“ fragte er aufgeregt. „Zeigst du mir, wie man eine Frau befriedigt?“

Sean war zu sehr mit Fiona beschäftigt, dass er die Auswirkungen dieses Statements nicht mitbekam. Wie ich im Bad mitbekommen hatte, war Missy nicht besonders zufrieden mit den Leistungen von Damien. Aber der Junge war wissbegierig und schon lag Desiree auf der Couch und sie erklärte ihm, wie er ihre Brüste behandeln sollte.

Thamina ging schüchtern zu George. Sie war bei Fremden immer schüchtern. Ihre moslemische Erziehung hatte sie nie den Gelüsten ihres Körper nachgeben lassen. George nahm ihr Kinn in die Hand und küsste sie, bis sie aufhörte zu zittern und dann setzte er sie auf den anderen Sessel. Er spreizte ihre dunklen Schenkel und Thamina stöhnte. George, so schien es, brauchte keine Lektionen, wie man eine Frau befriedigt.

Fiona legte einen Finger auf ihre Lippen, während ihre andere Hand sich in der Hose von Sean zu schaffen machte. „Ich werde mich schon um dich kümmern.“

Sie erhob sich und ich konnte Seans Penis unter ihrer gewachsten Muschi sehen, als sie ihn in ihre Fotze dirigierte. Dann ließ sie sich wieder herunter und dann stöhnte sie, als er sich vorzeitig gleich in ihr ergoss. „Sorry“, stammelte er. „Es ist schon so lange her…“

„Du musst dich nicht entschuldigen“, sagte Fiona. Sie hob sich auf seinem Schwanz, der noch hart war, obwohl er eben gespritzt hatte. „Jetzt, wo der erste Druck mal weg ist, wirst du schön lange durchhalten können.“

Sean murmelte: „Ich hatte ganz vergessen, wie toll sich das anfühlt!“

Auf der Couch brachte Desiree Damien jetzt gerade bei, wie man einer Frau die Möse leckt. „Uhhh, das ist gut. Der Kitzler ist sehr empfindlich, also sei ein bisschen vorsichtig damit. Ja, schöne kleine Bewegungen. Keine Angst, du darfst ihn ruhig küssen und daran saugen, aber pass mit deinen… ahhh… Zähnen auf“, keuchte sie. Sie spielte mit ihren Nippeln, während sich Damien mit ihrer Möse beschäftigte.

Mein Schwanz war hart in meiner Hose und dann fiel mir der Fehler in unserem Plan auf. Mary wollte zuerst alleine Liebe mit ihren Schwester machen. Dann würde sie mir eine SMS schicken, wenn sie bereit war, dass ich dazu kam. In der Zwischenzeit hatte ich dafür zu sorgen, dass ihr Vater und die Freunde ihrer Schwestern abgelenkt waren. Sie waren in der Tat abgelenkt. Aber wir hatten nur drei Schlampen bei uns. Ich hätte noch eine vierte Schlampe haben müssen, damit ich auch jemanden zum Spielen hatte.

Ich dachte kurz darüber nach, nach nebenan zu gehen. Dort waren die anderen Schlampen, die sich wahrscheinlich jetzt auch gerade eine gute Zeit bereiteten. Dann sah ich Fionas Arsch, die Sean ritt. Sie hatte ein freies Loch. Und Sean würde mein Schwiegervater werden, also gehörte er ja praktisch zur Familie, es wäre also ganz in Ordnung, seine Hure mit ihm zu teilen. Ich ging zum Sessel hinüber und mein Schwanz stieß gegen Fionas Arsch.

„Willst du mich… ähh… in den Arsch ficken, Meister?“ fragte Fiona und sie vergaß die richtige Anrede. Naja, die Katze war ja sowieso aus dem Sack, es war also eigentlich egal.

„Ja, Schlampe“, sagte ich. „Ich werde deinen sexy Arsch aufbohren.“

Ich glitt in ihren engen Arsch. Er war besonders eng, weil Seans Schwanz in ihrer Fotze steckte. „Was…“, wollte Sean protestieren, aber Fiona versiegelte seine Lippen mit ihren. Sei fickte uns jetzt beide und fand eine Rhythmus, der uns beiden gut gefiel.

Fiona beendete ihren Kuss und sie keuchte: „Oh verdammt, dein Schwanz fühlt sich so gut in meinem Arsch an, Meister. Und der Schwanz von Mr. Sullivan ist so toll in meiner Fotze! Danke, Meister.“

Ich fing an, Fiona zurück zu ficken und passte mich ihrem Rhythmus an. Ich genoss ihren süßen Arsch. Sean griff nach ihren Brüsten und saugte einen ihrer roten Nippel in seinen Mund. „Gott, dein Arsch fühlt sich fantastisch an, Schlampe!“ . stöhnte ich.

„Hmm, schön, dass dir mein Schlampenarsch gefällt, Meister“, stöhnte Fiona. „Willst du mir deinen Saft in den Arsch spritzen Wirst du mir meinen Schlampenarsch mit deinem Saft füllen?“

„Verdammte Schlampe“, stöhnte ich. Ihre Worte geilten mich auf.

Das Gefühl begann in meinen Eiern. Ich fickte Fionas Arsch so feste wie ich konnte und drückte damit ihre Fotze auf Seans Schwanz herunter. Mein künftiger Schwiegervater keuchte vor Lust, als Fionas Fotze immer wieder mit Wucht auf ihn nieder sauste. Ich fickte noch fester, drei kraftvolle Stöße und dann überflutete ich ihren Arsch mit meinem Saft.

„Oh Mann!“ stöhnte Sean. „Oh Mann! Das fühlt sich gut an! Es ist schon so lange her!“

„Mmmm, spritz mir deine Soße in die Fotze“, schnurrte Fiona, als ich mich herauszog und auf die Ottomane setzte. Ich beobachtete, wie sich Fionas Hüften hoben und senkten. Ihr Arschloch stand leicht offen und mein Sperma sickerte heraus. „Oh ja, ich liebe es, wenn Sperma in meine geile Fotze gespritzt wird! Ja!“ Noch mehr Sperma wurde aus ihrem Arsch heraus gepresst, als es Fiona kam. Dann rutschte sie von Seans Schoß herunter und säuberte mir gewissenhaft den Schwanz. Sean lag auf seinem Sessel und keuchte mit geschlossenen Augen.

George fickte jetzt Thamina. Er lehnte sich über sie und der Liegesessel wackelte von der Wucht ihres Fickens. Thamina hatte ihre Beine um seine Hüften geschlungen und sie zog ihn fest in ihre Fotze. Ihr Kopftuch hing halb herunter und gab ihr wundervolles schwarzes Haar frei. Der farbenfrohe Stoff lag auf ihrer Brust und ein Nippel lugte darunter hervor.

„Sorry“, entschuldigte sich Damien. Ich sah nach hinten und da war der Teenager zwischen Desirees Beinen und sein Sperma spritzte auf ihren Bauch.

„Das ist okay“, sagte Desiree. „Die meisten jungen Männer sind ein bisschen überreizt.“ Sie wichste seinen Schwanz. „Hmmm, du fühlst dich so an, als könntest du weitermachen.“

„Wow, du bist viel nasser als Missy war“, stöhnte Damien, als Desiree seinen Schwanz in ihre Fotze führte. „Oh Mann, wie machst du das mit deiner Fotze? Du drückst meinen Schwanz ja richtig.“

„Beckenbodentraining“, grinste Desiree.

„Du fühlst dich viel besser an als Missy“, sagte er.

„Du musst Missy nur richtig behandeln“, murmelte Desiree. „Dann ist sie eine geile Schnalle für dich. Außerdem wird der Meister ihr zeigen, wie man einen Mann behandelt. Du wirst bestimmt nicht enttäuscht sein.“

„Nicht?“ fragte Damien. „Wie kann sie sich mit dir vergleichen, Desiree?“

„Oh, das ist aber nett“, schnurrte Desiree und küsst ihn. Dann schlang sie ihre Beine um seine pumpenden Hüften.

„Ich meine das ernst, ich glaube, ich liebe dich!“ keuchte Damien.

„Nein, das tust du nicht“, sagte Desiree und streichelte sein Gesicht. „Du liebst, wie meine Möse dir gerade ein gutes Gefühl bereitet. Das ist Lust und nicht Liebe. Liebe ist reiner. Dabei geht es einfach darum, mit einem anderen zusammen zu sein. Seine Gesellschaft zu genießen. Ihm zu helfen. Und ihn zu vermissen, wenn er nicht da ist. Dabei geht es um Vertrauen und um Intimität.“

„Ich denke, dass ich diese Gefühle mit Tiffany hatte“, sagte Sean plötzlich. Er rieb sich das Gesicht. „Gott, ich vermisse sie noch immer.“

„Tiffany, ist das Marys Mutter?“ fragte ich. Fionas Saubermachen war zu einem sehr angenehmen Blowjob geworden. Ihr Mund bewegte sich auf meinem Schwanz auf und ab.

„Ja“, seufzte Sean. „Ich weiß einfach nicht, was da schiefgegangen ist. Ich glaubte, dass alles in Ordnung war. Ich meine, wir haben uns zwar gestritten, aber das war nichts Ernstes. Ich glaubte wirklich, dass sie mich liebte und dann… sie hat sich einfach so verändert. So als wäre sie eine ganz andere Person geworden. Wild und lüstern.“

„Das tut mir leid“, sagte ich. Ich fühlte mich nicht wohl. „Ich wüsste nicht, was ich ohne Mary tun würde.“

„Es ist so, als wäre ein Stück aus mir herausgerissen worden“, seufzte Sean. „Es tut jeden Tag weh. Dreizehn verdammt lange Jahre und ich liebe sie noch immer.“ Er nahm seinen Wein und schüttete ihn herunter. „Verdammt, ich muss betrunken sein!“

Ich schob Fiona von meinem Schwanz weg und sie verstand den Hinweis. Sie glitt auf Seans Schoß und hielt ihn an ihrer Brust. Er fing an zu weinen. George und Damien waren viel zu sehr mit Ficken beschäftigt, als dass sie etwas bemerkt hätten. Dann stand Fiona auf und führte Sean zu ihrem Bett. Sean ging hinter ihr her wie ein verlorener kleiner Junge. Sein Kopf hing nach unten.

Ich fühlte mich sehr unwohl. Um mich herum fickte Damien wie wild Desiree und lutschte gleichzeitig an ihren großen Titten und George besorgte es Thamina hart. Thamina stöhnte laut vor Lust. Brennender Hass auf Marys Mutter erfüllte mein Herz. Sean war ein toller Kerl und Mary und ihre Schwestern waren tolle Mädchen und sie hatte sie einfach für irgend so einen verdammten Musiker verlassen.

Wenn ich sie irgendwann in die Finger bekam, dann würde sie für all die Schmerzen bezahlen, die sie verursacht hatte.

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

Ich musste niesen, als ich aus dem Taxi ausstieg.

Im Taxi roch es nach Körpergeruch und einem ekelhaften Aftershave. Der Fahrer, ein schwarzer Haitianer, der kaum Englisch laberte die ganze Fahrt von der Pirates Rum Bar auf Haitianisch in sein Headset. Ich war froh, dass ich endlich aus der Karre rauskam. Es war schon spät, nach Mitternacht, später als ich mir das eigentlich vorgestellt hatte. Ich sah zwar aus wie achtzehn, aber ich fühlte mich wie die 44 Jahre, die ich alt war. Wir waren so spät unterwegs, weil der Türsteher an dieser Bar, der die minderjährigen Mädchen reinlässt, erst um Mitternacht anfängt.

Es war ein richtiges Bumslokal, aber draußen hingen jede Menge junger Leute. Das Gerücht mit dem Einlass für junge Leute hatte sich offenbar herumgesprochen und alle jungen Nachtschwalben kamen jetzt hier an. Der Laden sah von außen ziemlich abstoßend aus und ich hoffte, dass es innen nicht ebenso war. Ich hatte zu viel Zeit in derartigen Bumslokalen zugebracht, als ich vor dreizehn Jahren noch die Sklavin von Kurt Bronson gewesen war. Damals war ich Tiffany Sullivan gewesen, eine glückliche Ehefrau und Mutter.

Ich schloss die Augen und drückte die Tränen weg, die mir kamen, wenn ich an Sean dachte. Es tat immer noch weh, an Sean und an meine Töchter zu denken und an all das, was mir gestohlen worden war, aber ich kämpfte die Gedanken herunter. Ich war auf göttlicher Mission. Ich musste Antsy ficken, ein Mädchen, das nicht einmal entfernt neugierig auf bi war. Ich hatte sie schon beinahe zur Hälfte überzeugt, einen Dreier mit mir und einem Typ, den wir in der Bar aufgegabelt hatten, zu machen. Aus diesem Grund waren wir hier. Ich musste Antsy ins Bett bekommen, damit ich den Spruch von Avvah an ihr ausüben und sie damit zur Falle für ihren Bruder machen konnte.

Antsy stieg auf der anderen Seite des Taxi aus. Sie hatte ihre engste Hose an, eine Hüfthose, die glitzernde Herzen auf den Arschtaschen hatte und die alle Blicke auf ihre jugendlichen Kurven zog. Ihr Top war ein lockeres Ding. Es war oben um ihren Hals gebunden und unten um ihren Bauch und bestand eigentlich nur aus einem Tuch. Ihre Brüste schaukelten, wenn sie ging. Um ihren Bauch trug sie ein Goldkettchen, das die Blicke auf ihren nackten Bauch zog. Ihre Jeans war so tief geschnitten, dass ihr roter String deutlich zu sehen war. Die Mutter in mir fand diese Sachen absolut zu aufreizend, die Frau in mir dachte einfach nur, wie gnadenlos geil sie in diesen Sachen aussah und sie dachte daran, wie sehr ich in dieser Hose sein wollte.

„Das ist alles so aufregend“; kicherte Antsy. Das Mädchen war zum Feiern nach Miami gekommen und hatte in der letzten Nacht bereits einen One-Night-Stand gehabt. Sie freute sich schon auf den nächsten.

„Ja“, log ich. Ich fühlte mich innerlich nicht aufgeregt. Ich hatte Heimweh, aber ich war Schwester Theodora Miriam auf göttlicher Mission. Und ich würde die kleine Antsy ficken, egal was auch passieren würde.

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

„Es ist noch viel zu früh um zu gehen“, schmollte ich. „Mark könnte doch mit Damiens Eltern reden und das regeln, Er ist sehr überzeugend. Wenn das mit seiner Poker-Karriere mal nicht mehr funktioniert, kann er noch in den Verkauf gehen. Er wird sich da dumm und dämlich verdienen. Außerdem haben meine Schwester und ich ein paar Frauensachen zu erledigen.“

„Was?“ fragte Missy aufgeregt.

Ich lächelte sie geheimnisvoll an, als ich nach oben ging. Ich sah mich um und bemerkte, dass Shannon mir eilig folgte. Shannon war sehr schnell meinen Kräften verfallen, von der Umarmung, mit der wir uns begrüßt hatten bis zum dem Füßeln unter dem Tisch. Das Ganze hatte seinen bisherigen Höhepunkt gehabt, als wir beide eine Minute lang vor dem Badezimmer geknutscht hatten. Normalerweise war meine Schwester immer absolut gehässig zu mir, aber meine Kräfte hatten sie sehr freundlich werden lassen. Als ich am oberen Ende der Treppe ankam, hörte ich Missys eilige Schritte hinter uns auf der Treppe.

„Wartet auf mich!“ rief sie.

Shannon sah ein wenig enttäuscht aus. Sie hatte offenbar erwartet, dass wir diesen Kuss in Zurückgezogenheit fortsetzen würden. Mein Wunsch, auf alle Frauen anziehend zu wirken, hatte unterschiedliche Auswirkungen auf unterschiedliche Frauen. Einige wurden sehr mutig, andere einfach nur freundlich. Aber jede einzelne gab meinen Avancen nach, selbst meine Schwestern. Oder meinetwegen auch die Hure von meiner Mutter, wenn sie denn irgendwann einmal auftauchen würde.

Aber natürlich würde das, was ich mit ihr machen würde, nicht besonders angenehm sein.

Ich verdrängte diesen Gedanken schnell wieder. Ich hatte jetzt zwei sexy Schwestern zum Spielen und ich öffnete die Tür zum Schlafzimmer, das ich mit Mark teilte. Die Schlampen hatten in der Zeit, in der ich mit Mark in der Dusche war, das Bett frisch bezogen. Mark und ich hatten einen sehr angenehmen Nachmittag verbracht. Zuerst hatten wir gefickt wie ein paar Teenager und dann hatten wir ein paar sehr angenehme Stunden damit verbracht, Liebe miteinander zu machen. Ich glaube, dass Mark ein wenig eifersüchtig darauf ist, wie viel Zeit ich mit Alice bei unseren Treffen im Blue Spruce verbrachte. Ich war mehr als glücklich, dass ich ihm beweisen konnte, dass ich genauso viel Zeit damit verbringen konnte, mit ihm Liebe zu machen.

Aber jetzt wollte ich Liebe mit meinen Schwestern machen. Sie waren beide wunderschön. Shannon mit ihren feuerroten Haaren und mit diesen Brüsten. Meine waren zwar schön fest, aber das waren Shannons auch und sie waren größer. Mike, mein Ex hatte sie immerzu angestarrt und das hatte mich so eifersüchtig gemacht. Missy war auch wunderschön. Sie war schlank und biegsam und voller jugendlicher Energie. Und ihr Haar war hinreißend rotblond.

Shannon leistete keinen Widerstand, als ich sie zu einem Kuss an mich zog. Sie schmolz geradezu an meinem Körper. Ich spürte, wie sich ihre Brüste an meine Titten drückten. Shannons Zunge glitt in meinen Mund und spielte mit meiner. Ihre Hände fuhren über meinen Rücken, an meinem Kleid nachunten bis zu meinem Arsch. Sie nahm unter meinem Kleid meine Arschbacken in die Hand. Ich tat es ihr gleich und umfasste ihren Arsch durch ihre enge Hose. Er war fest und knackig.

„Oh mein Gott“, sagte Missy. „Was macht ihr beiden denn da?“

Ich unterbrach den Kuss und streckte meinen Arm aus. Ich fasste Missy an ihrer Schulter und zog sie zu mir. „Wir drücken nur aus, wie sehr wir uns lieben.“

„Aber… aber…“ fing sie an zu protestieren, aber ich brachte sie mit einem Kuss zum Schweigen.

Missy war erstarrt. Ihre Lippen waren versiegelt. Dann wurde sie von ihrer Leidenschaft überwältigt und ihre Lippen teilten sich und erlaubten meiner Zunge, in ihren Mund einzudringen. Ihr Lippenstift schmeckte nach Wassermelonen und nach Schokoladenkuchen. Ihr schlanker Körper drückte sich an mich und ich schob eine Hand an ihrer Seite nach oben, um ihre knospenden Brüste unter dem weißen Top zu umfassen.

Ihr Kleid wurde von zwei schmalen Schulterträgern gehalten. Ich schob den einen Träger von ihrer rechten Schulter und den anderen von ihrer linken Schulter. Dann unterbrach ich den Kuss und Missy stand verblüfft da. Sie leckte ihre Lippen und ihre Augen waren ganz groß. Ich zog an ihrem Kleid und es rutschte ihr vom Körper. Sie trug einen trägerlosen grauen BH unter ihrem Kleid und ein passendes graues Höschen.

„Ist sie nicht wunderschön?“ flüsterte ich und Shannon umarmte mich von hinten und flüsterte in mein Ohr: „Ja.“ Und dann leckte ihre Zunge an meinem Ohrläppchen und ich schüttelte mich vor Lust. Ich spürte, wie sich nackte Haut von hinten an mich drückte und wie sich harte Nippel in meinen Rücken bohrten. Ich hatte gar nicht mitbekommen, dass sich Shannon ausgezogen hatte.

Missy zitterte vor mir und ich flüsterte: „Sch, es ist alles in Ordnung, Baby. Ich werde dir ein so tolles Gefühl machen.“

„Okay, Mary“, sagte Missy und sie zuckte zusammen, als ich meine Hand bewegte und ihr BH-Körbchen berührte. Ich fuhr mit einem Finger darunter, damit ich ihr Fleisch spüren konnte. Ich war sehr erfreut, dass der BH seinen Verschluss auf der Vorderseite hatte und ich machte ihn geschickt auf. Ihr BH glitt an ihren Armen herunter und lag dann auf dem Boden.

Missy nahm instinktiv ihre Hände hoch, um ihre knospenden Brüste zu bedecken, die von dunklen Nippeln gekrönt waren. Sie hatte, so wie ich auch, Sommersprossen und ihre Nippel hatten die gleiche dunkle Farbe wie auch meine, nur sahen sie ein wenig größer aus. Ich nahm ihre Hände und legte sie wieder an ihre Seiten. Ihre Nippel waren hart vor Erregung und ihre Brüste hoben und senkten sich mit ihrem heftigen Atem. Missy leckte sich die Lippen und starrte mich weit geöffneten Augen, als Shannon mich auf den Halsansatz küsste.

„Willst du dir nicht die Muschi von unserer kleinen Schwester anschauen?“ fragte ich über die Schulter.

„Doch, das würde ich gerne tun“, schnurrte Shannon. „Komm Baby, zeig uns, wie süß sie ist. Ich habe dich schon nicht mehr nackt gesehen, seit du vier warst und du gesagt hast, dass große Mädchen alleine baden.“

Missy schüttelte den Kopf. „Nein, ich bin zu verlegen.“

„Du lässt Damien doch auch deine hübsche kleine Muschi sehen“, schnurrte Shannon. „und du lässt ihn seinen kleinen Schwanz reinstecken. Sei doch nicht schüchtern. Es sind doch nur wir Mädchen.“

Missy wurde rot und schaute auf den Boden.

„Vielleicht fällt es dir ja leichter, wenn du die Muschi von deiner Schwester siehst“, sagte Shannon.

Missy nickte und Shannon zog den Reißverschluss an meinem Kleid nach unten. Und das, was eben noch so eng gewesen war, rutschte jetzt von meinen Schultern. Ich bewegte meine Schultern ein wenig und das Kleid rutschte an meinem Körper nach unten und landete auf einem Hauf an meinen Füßen. Ich war darunter nackt bis auf den Strumpfhaltergürtel, der meine schwarzen Strümpfe hielt.

„Wow“, sagte Missy erstaunt. „Du trägst ja gar keine Unterwäsche!“

„Was für ein verdorbenes Mädchen“, schnurrte Shannon und sie drückte meinen runden Po mit einer Hand.

„Und du hast dich rasiert, alles ist weg bis auf dieses süße kleine Herz hier“, flüsterte Missy.

„Ich habe dir meins gezeigt, kleine Schwester“, sagte ich. „Jetzt musst du uns aber auch deins zeigen.“

„Gut, aber nicht lachen“, sagte Missy. Sie hakte ihre Finger in ihr seidenes Höschen und zog es nach unten. Ihre Muschi war von wenigen roten Haaren umkränzt. „Ich bin wohl eine Spätentwicklerin. Meine ersten Haare sind erst vor sechs Monaten gewachsen.“

„Wunderschön“, flüsterte ich und streckte meine Hand aus. Ich legte sie auf ihr Schambein und fuhr durch das feine Haar und hinunter bis zu ihrer kleinen Perle. Ich ließ meinen Finger ganz leicht darüber fahren und sie schüttelte sich vor Lust. Dann fuhr ich mit meinem Finger weiter nach unten und durch ihren nassen Schlitz.

„Wow, das fühlt sich gut an“; sagte Missy. „Damien ist immer so roh, aber das hier… Wow!“

„Ich möchte wetten, dass Damien gerade eine Lektion bekommt, wie man eine Frau richtig befriedigt“, sagte ich.

„Was?“ fragte Missy verwirrt. „Willst du damit sagen, dass…“

„Hmm, unsere Zofen bedienen jetzt sicher gerade eure Freunde und Vater“, sagte ich ihr.

„Was?“ sagte Shannon. „George sollte aber besser nicht bedient werden.“

Ich drehte mich um. Mein nackter Nippel kratzte über Shannons nackte Brust. „Du bist die Richtige, jetzt eifersüchtig zu werden, wo du mit deinen Schwestern herumspielst!“

Shannon stammelte: „Das hier ist aber… das ist aber anders!“

„Wirklich, Süße?“ fragte ich und öffnete den Gürtel, der um ihre Hüfte lag und dann öffnete ich den Knopf ihrer Hose. „Möchtest du, dass ich aufhöre? Möchtest du nach unten gehen und dafür sorgen, dass George nicht dasselbe Vergnügen empfängt, das du gleich auch empfangen wirst?“ Ihr Reißverschluss lief nach unten und meine Hand schlüpfte in ihr Höschen. Shannons Muschi war rasiert und sie war nass. Mein Finger schlüpfte in sie hinein.

„Nein“, keuchte sie, als ich sie fingerte. „Ich glaube, das ist fair.“

Dann küsste sie mich auf die Lippen und ihre Hand streichelte meine Brust. Sie rollte meinen empfindlichen Nippel zwischen ihren sanften Fingern. Ich spürte eine weiche Hand an meinem Hintern und Missy drückte sich an mich. Ihr schütteres Schamhaar kitzelte an meiner Hüfte, während sie mit meinem Po spielte. Ihre harten Nippel kratzten über meinen Rücken und über meinen Arm und ihre Lippen waren flüssiges Feuer, als sie meinen Hals küsste.

„Das ist fair“, murmelte Missy.

Ich zitterte, als Missys Lippen meinen harten Nippel berührten und ihn in ihren Mund saugten. Shannon spielte mit dem anderen. Missy saugte und leckte und spielte mit dem harten Knöpfchen in ihrem Mund. Shannons Oberschenkel drängte sich zwischen meine Beine und meine Muschi hinterließ feuchte Schmierspuren, als ich mich auf ihr wand. Dann ließ Missy meinen Nippel los und riss Shannon die Jeans herunter.

„Du bist die einzige, die noch nicht nackt ist“, kicherte sie. „Fair ist fair!“ Und dann riss Missy auch noch Shannons rote dünne Unterwäsche herunter. Dann keuchte sie und hielt das zerrissene Teil hoch. „Das tut mir leid“, sagte sie kleinlaut.

„Warte, ich kriege dich“, rief Shannon und sprang Missy an, die nach hinten auswich, gegen das Bett stieß und rückwärts auf die Matratze fiel.

Schon war Shannon über ihr und Missy kicherte wegen der Kitzelattacke. Mark hatte schon einmal versucht, mich zu kitzeln und er hatte verloren. Er hatte ja keine Ahnung gehabt, mit welchen harten Gegnerinnen ich es früher zu tun gehabt hatte. Es waren Shannon, die manchmal absolut immun gegen Kitzeln schien und Missy, die mit ihren geschickten Fingern selbst Shannon zum Lachen brachte.

Meine Muschi lief aus, als ich sah, wie meine Schwestern über das Bett rollten. Ihre nackten Körper waren ganz erhitzt von der Anstrengung. Irgendwie kam Missy nach oben und sie nutzte ihren Vorteil aus und kitzelte Shannons Seiten. Shannon schien kurz davor zu sein, unter Missys Angriff zu unterliegen, aber das war nur eine Finte und Missy rollte von ihr herunter und heulte vor Lachen. Ihr Gesicht war rot wie eine Tomate.

„Du hast gewonnen…“ keuchte Missy. „Es tut mir… leid!“

„Nein, tut es nicht“, sagte Shannon und kitzelte sie weiter. „Aber es wird dir noch…“ Shannons Worte wurden abgeschnitten, als Missy sich aufsetzte und Shannon die Arme um den Hals schlang und sie auf den Mund küsste.

Shannons Angriff war beendet und sie schmolz gegen Missy. Mein Gott, war das erotisch, meine Schwestern miteinander schmusen und sich nackt an einander reiben zu sehen. Ich fuhr mit meiner Hand zu meiner nassen Muschi und fing an, sie langsam zu reiben. Immer wieder erhaschte ich kurze Blicke auf Shannons Muschi. Ihre inneren Schamlippen kamen aus den äußeren heraus und sie waren vor Lust angeschwollen. Und ich sah immer wieder auch Missys Schlitz, der von dünnen rotem Haar umkränzt war.

Ich streckte meine Hand aus und kniff in Shannons knackigen Arsch. Ich musste unbedingt mehr trainieren, dachte ich, als ich fühlte, wie fest ihr Arsch war. Mein Arsch ist ein bisschen zu weich, obwohl Mark das anscheinend liebte. Aber Shannons Arsch war fantastisch. Eine Stunde Training am Tag, hatte Shannon gesagt. Zwei Stunden am Samstag, damit sie am Sonntag faulenzen konnte. Shannon ignorierte, dass ich sie gekniffen hatte und schmuste weiter mit Missy.

Also machte ich dasselbe noch einmal, diesmal fester.

„Autsch!“ rief Shannon. „Bitch!“

„Ihr scheint eure andere Schwester zu vergessen“, schnurrte ich. „Legt euch auf den Rücken und lasst mich euch zu geilen Orgasmen fingern!“ Ich brauche euren Fotzensaft für einen Spruch hätte ich sagen sollen. Aber ich wollte das nicht aufbringen.

Missy legte sich zu meiner Linken und Shannon zu meiner Rechten auf das Bett. Ich kniete zwischen beiden und beugte mich vor, um zuerst Missys dunkle Nippel zu küssen und dann Shannons. Zu meiner Überraschung waren Shannons Nippel kleiner als meine, aber genauso hart und Shannon stöhnte anerkennend, als ich an ihren Titten lutschte. Dann fuhr ich mit meinen Händen an ihren beiden Bäuchen nach unten und rieb ihre beiden Fotzen gleichzeitig.

Ich wollte sie reizen und fuhr mit den Fingern an den Konturen ihres Geschlechtes entlang. Ich spielte mit ihren Schamlippen und fuhr manchmal fast wie zufällig über ihre Kitzler. Ich hatte Spaß daran, wie sie jedes Mal erzitterten. Ihr Haar war auf dem Bett ausgebreitet und Shannons feuerrotes Haar mischte sich mit Missys rotblondem.

„Bitte“, bettelte Shannon als Erste. „Ich brauche mehr!““

„Was brauchst du denn?“ fragte ich verschlagen.

„Deinen Finger in meiner Fotze!“ keuchte Shannon. Sie wand ihre Hüften, während ich sie sanft weiter streichelte.

„Und was ist mit dir, Baby?“

„Bitte Mary…“, flüsterte sie. „Ich möchte… ich möchte…“

„Kommen?“ fragte ich und sie nickte. „Dann sag es!“ zischte ich. „Ich will hören, wie du darum bittest.“

„Bitte steck deinen Finger in meine Muschi“, seufzte Missy. „Ich möchte… ich möchte Kommen. Ich muss dringend kommen! Es fühlt sich in mir an, als müsste ich explodieren!“

Meine beiden Schwestern stöhnten gleichzeitig, al sich ihnen jeweils einen einzelnen Finger hineinsteckte. Missy war natürlich enger, aber Shannon war nasser. Aus der Fotze meiner älteren Schwester lief so viel Saft, dass sich auf dem Bett unter ihrem Arsch ein nasser Fleck bildete. Langsam fickte ich ihre Mösen mit einem Finger, dann fügte ich einen zweiten hinzu. Und dann bei Shannon noch einen dritten. Missy war zu eng und ich wollte ihre kleine Muschi nicht ausleiern. Dann sollte später Marks Schwanz besorgen.

Missy kam als erste, als mein Daumen anfing, in konzentrischen Kreisen um ihren Kitzler zu fahren. Sie zuckte auf dem Bett und schlug eine Hand vor ihren Mund, damit man ihren Schrei nicht hörte. Genauso wie im letzten Jahr, als ich mein Zimmer noch mit ihr geteilt hatte. Missy fing an zu masturbieren, als sie dachte, dass ich eingeschlafen war und dann schlug sie ihre Hand auf ihren Mund, um ihr Stöhnen zu unterdrücken. Das funktionierte nicht halb so gut, wie sie glaubte. Allerdings war ich immer zu verlegen gewesen, um mit ihr darüber zu reden. Ich für meinen Teil besaß so viel Anstand, in der Dusche zu masturbieren oder dann, wenn sie nicht zu Hause war.

Ich brachte meine tropfende Hand zu meinem Gesicht und schmierte mir die Flüssigkeit auf mein rechtes Auge und dann sagte ich „Mowdah.“ Ich spürte, wie von meinem Auge aus Energie in mich hinein floss, als ich den Spruch gesagt hatte. Jetzt sollte ich in der Lage sein, eine Nonne zu erkennen. Dann leckte ich meine Finger ab und schmeckte den frischen würzigen Geschmack von Missys Fotze.

Ich fickte meine drei Finger schneller in Shannons Fotze, während Missy noch keuchte. Und ich rieb fester und schneller an ihrem Kitzler. Meine Finger machten ein nasses schmatzendes Geräusch, während ich sie in Shannons Fotze rein und raus bewegte. Ich fand Shannons Arschloch und schob ihr einen der Finger hinein, die noch mit Missys Saft bedeckt war.

„Oh wow!“ machte Shannon. „Ich habe noch nie… im Arsch…“

„Hmmm, das wird Mark gerne hören“, schnurrte ich und fickte ihre Fotze und ihren Arsch gleichzeitig mit meinen Fingern und rieb feste an ihrem Kitzler. „Wirst du jetzt für mich kommen?“

„Ja!“ kicherte Missy und rollte auf die Seite. Sie streckte die Hand aus, um mit Shannons Titte zu spielen. Sie drückte den dunklen Nippel mit ihren Fingern. „Komm, komm, komm“, fing Missy an zu singen, immer wieder. Sie fing ganz leise an und wurde dann immer lauter. „Komm, komm, komm!“

Shannon zuckte, ihr Orgasmus schien durch Missys Gesang ausgelöst worden zu sein. Flüssigkeit schoss aus ihrer Fotze, spritzte auf meine Hand und sickerte in das Laken. Meine Finger tropften von ihrem wässrigen Erguss. Ich wischte mir ihren Saft auf das linke Auge.

„Mowdah“, murmelte ich wieder und ich spürte dieselbe Energie durch mein linkes Auge fließen.

Shannon rang nach Atem du Missy starrte gebannt auf ihre Fotze. „Hast du dich eben bepisst?“ fragte Missy.

„Nein, nein“, keuchte Shannon. „Manchmal spritze ich, wenn ich total geil bin. Das ist nur Mösensaft.“

Ich starrte auf meine Schwestern und bemerkte etwas. Sie hatten einen ganz leichten silbernen Schein um sich. Ich konzentrierte mich und tatsächlich, da war ein silberner Schein. Waren meine Schwestern etwa Nonnen? Ich blinzelte überrascht. Einen kurzen Moment lang hämmerte nackte Panik in meinem Herzen. Nein, sie waren meine Schwestern. Aber was sah ich dann? Ich wollte Lilith fragen, aber ich traute ihr nicht, wenn meine Schwestern da waren. Oder auch alleine, um ehrlich zu sein.

Ich berührte Shannons Bein und sah Verbindungen in alle Richtungen an ihr ausgehen. Eine dicke silberne Verbindung ging zu Missy. Eine weitere dicke silberne Verbindung führte ins Haus. Eine dicke rote Verbindung schien zu mir zu existieren und eine dicke goldene Verbindung führte irgendwo hin, in Richtung Südosten. Ich versuchte, eine der Verbindungen anzufassen, aber meine Hand ging einfach hindurch.

Als ich Missy berührte, passierte dasselbe. Ähnliche Verbindungen zu Shannon und zu mir. Auch sie hatte diese dicke goldene Verbindung, die in Richtung Südosten ging. Missy griff nach meiner Hand und meine Konzentration war weg.

„Du hast uns fertig gemacht“, sagte sie und küsste mich.

„Also werden wir dich jetzt fertig machen“, sagte Shannon und rutschte an meinem Körper nachunten. „Ich habe noch nie eine Muschi geleckt, aber das wollte ich immer schon mal machen.“

Missys Zunge war in meinem Mund, als Shannon meine Schenkel auseinander drückte. Es kam mir in dem Moment, in dem Shannon mit ihrer Zunge durch meine Spalte fuhr. Shannons Zunge grub sich in meine Möse. Sie trank meinen Saft und Missys Mund fühlte sich geil an meinen Nippeln an. Ich atmete schwer, ein zweiter Orgasmus folgte dem ersten ganz schnell und ich wand mich auf dem Bett, als ich von der Lust übermannt wurde.

Missy und Shannon küssten mich überall. Die eine lutschte an meinen Titten, während die andere meine Fotze leckte und dann wechselten sie und küssten sich dabei über meinen Körper. Missy war eine gierige Fotzenleckerin und ich hatte meinen dritten Orgasmus, als sie ihre Zunge in meiner Fotze hatte. Ich badete das Gesicht mit einer erneuten Flut aus klebrigem Saft.

Dann hockte sich Shannon auf mein Gesicht. Ihre nasse Muschi schmeckte süß und würzig und ich leckte sie gierig. Missy nuckelte an meinem Kitzler und bewegte zwei ihrer Finger gleichmäßig in meiner Möse hinein und heraus. Ich genoss Shannons Muschi und ich trank ihren Geilsaft. Ihr Mösensaft war der flüssigste, den ich jemals erlebt hatte. Sie machte mein Gesicht richtig nass, während ich sie leckte. Ich spürte, wie ihr Saft in kleinen Bächen an meinen Wangen herunter lief. Er sammelte sich in meinen Ohren und machte auch mein Haar ganz nass. Weitere Bächlein liefen an meinem Kinn herunter und auf meinen Hals und zwischen meine Brüste.

Missy hockte sich über mich und Shannon ging an meine Fotze. Sie saugte an meinen Schamlippen, während Missy ihren gierigen Schlitz auf mein Gesicht senkte. Ich genoss auch ihre unschuldige Fotze und schmeckte das frische würzige Aroma ihrer Weiblichkeit. Ihr Kitzler war klein und Missy schüttelte sich über mir, als ich ihn zwischen meine hungrigen Lippen saugte.

Nachdem es uns beiden gekommen war, kuschelten wir uns aneinander. Wir waren alle von Mösensaft bedeckt und glühten noch von der Lust, die wir uns gegenseitig geschenkt hatten. Ich griff nach meinem Telefon. Meine SMS an Mark lautete: „Wir sind bereit für dich, mein Hengst *-)“

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

Das Innere des Pirates Rum war erstaunlich sauber. Dubstep hämmerte durch die Bar und ich tanzte mit Antsy und einem kräftigen Typ namens Travis. Er war Bodybuilder. Seine gebräunten Unterarme waren so dick wie mein Oberschenkel. Antsy und ich rieben uns im Takt der Musik an seinen Hüften. Mein Höschen rieb sich geil an meiner nassen Fotze, während ich mich an ihm rieb.

„Wollen wir vielleicht woanders hingehen?“ fragte ich ihn. „Vielleicht in unser Hotelzimmer?“

„Mit euch beiden?“ fragte Travis. Seine Hand drückte meinen Arsch und seine andere Hand fummelte an Antsys Hintern.

„Ja“, kicherte Antsy. Ihr Gesicht war erhitzt von all den Drinks, die ich ihr den ganzen Abend lang gegeben hatte und sie bereit, gut und ausgiebig gefickt zu werden.

„Verdammt ja!“ rief Travis. Ein breites Grinsen erschien auf seinem Gesicht.

Travis brachte uns schneller aus dem Club raus und in ein Taxi rein als ich für möglich gehalten hätte. Er wollte schnell mit uns in unser Motel, bevor wir zu nüchtern wurden und er seine Chance auf einen flotten Dreier versäumte. Bei der Taxifahrt saß Travis zwischen uns beiden und fummelte erst mit Antsy und dann mit mir und dann wieder mit Antsy. Seine Hände waren überall an unseren Körpern und der Taxifahrer bekam eine ganz schöne Show, als sich der Knoten, der Antsys Oberteil hielt, irgendwie löste und ihre wunderschönen festen Brüste herausfielen.

Und dann war Antsy über Travis. Ihre Jeans waren bis zu den Knien heruntergerollt, als sie sich auf Travis Schoß setzte und sein Schwanz in ihrer Fotze verschwand. Sie saß mit dem Rücken zu Travis auf ihm und er packte sie von hinten. Er hatte kein Problem, sie auf seinem Schwanz auf und ab zu bewegen. Ihre saftigen Titten schaukelten auf und ab, während sie ihn fickte. Ich saugte einen Nippel in meinen Mund und nuckelte hungrig daran. Antsy war zu betrunken, zu sehr von ihrer Lust besessen, dass es ihr etwas ausgemacht hätte, dass eine Frau an ihrer Titte lutschte.

Wir kamen beim Motel an, bevor es Travis kommen konnte. Antsy zog ihre Hose hoch und lief zu unserem Zimmer. Ihre Titten waren noch entblößt und hüpften, während sie lief. Travis folgte ihr und ließ mich das Taxi bezahlen. Der Fahrer sagte etwas auf Spanisch und zeigte auf seinen Schoß. Ich schnaubte nur und ging auch zu unserem Zimmer.

Travis und Antsy hatten keine Zeit vergeudet. Er war auf ihr und fickte ihre Fotze hart und schnell. Antys Jeans hing noch an ihrem rechten Fuß. Ich zog mir mein Kleid und mein Höschen aus und kroch zu den beiden auf das Bett. Antsy keuchte wir eine Nutte, während er sie fickte und ich küsste sie auf die Lippen. Sie leistete einen kleinen Moment Widerstand, dann gab sie nach und erwiderte meinen Kuss.

Travis grunzte: „Enge Muschi, meine Güte, ist das eine enge Muschi!“ Seine Eier klatschten laut gegen ihren Arsch, während er sie gut und hart durchfickte. Dann spannte er seinen Rücken und seine Arschmuskeln wurden hart. Und dann spritzte er seine Ladung in Antsys Fotze.

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

„Wir sind bereit für dich, mein Hengst *-)“ las ich auf meinem Telefon.

„Ich wünsche euch noch einen schönen Abend“, sagte ich zu Damien und George. Damien lag auf Desiree, nachdem er zweimal in ihr gekommen war. George bekam gerade von Thamina seinen Schwanz gelutscht. Ihre Fotze war von unseren beiden Ergüssen noch vollgeschleimt. „Ich gehe jetzt eure Freundinnen ficken.“

Ich ging nach oben und betrat das Schlafzimmer. „… wird George mir einen Antrag machen“, sagte Shannon gerade, als ich das Zimmer betrat.

Es war ein wunderbarer Anblick, der sich mir bot. Mary lag in der Mitte des Bettes, Shannon links und Missy rechts von ihr. Alle drei waren wunderschön und alle drei waren von Lust erhitzt. Wen sollte ich zuerst ficken? Shannon mit den dicken Titten oder die unschuldige Missy. Ich dachte darüber nach, während ich mich auszog. Geschändete Unschuld gewann gegen dicke Titten und ich setzte mich neben Missy.

„Du wirst dich jetzt von mir ficken lassen“, sagte ich ihr und sie nickte und biss sich genauso süß auf die Unterlippe, wie Mary das immer machte.

Mary lachte. „Hab ich doch gesagt“, sagte sie zu Shannon.

„Männer sind Schweine“, seufzte Shannon. Sie richtete sich auf den Ellbogen auf. „Ich habe eben zwanzig Dollar verloren, Mark.“

„Hast du gedacht, ich lasse meine Verlobte im Stich?“ fragte ich lächelnd. Ich streckte mich neben Missy auf dem Bett aus und fuhr mit der Hand über ihren Bauch. Missy kicherte nervös.

Shannon schützte Überraschung vor. „Hier habt gegen mich konspiriert!“ sagte sie und tat so, als würde sie in Ohnmacht fallen. Sie legte ihren Handrücken gegen ihre Stirn und ließ sich auf das Bett fallen. „Meine eigene Schwester hat ein falsches Spiel mit mir gespielt!“

Mary grinste mich an und drehte sich zu Shannon. „Nun, du kannst deine Schuld auch anders begleichen“, sagte Mary verführerisch und dann beugte sie sich vor und küsste ihre ältere Schwester auf den Mund.

„Das war alles nur ein Trick, um mich zu verführen?“ übertrieb Shannon. „Ich glaube, ich habe keine Chance als mich deinen abscheulichen Gelüsten zu überlassen!“

„Echt abscheulich“, gackerte Mary und küsste sich über Shannons Bauch nach unten. Dabei drehte sie sich um. Dann hob sie eines ihrer Beine und setzte ihr Knie au die andere Seite von Shannons Gesicht. Sie ließ sich auf das Gesicht von Shannon nieder, während sie selber in die Muschi ihrer Schwester eintauchte. Ich schaute zu, wie die beiden ihren 69-er machten und vor Lust stöhnten, als sie sich gegenseitig die Fotzen verwöhnten.

Ich saugte einen von Missys Nippeln in meinen Mund, während meine Hand vorsichtig ihre andere schwellende Brust nahm. Ihre Nippel waren ein wenig größer als dir von Mary und genauso empfindlich. Missy stöhnte vor Lust, als ich mit meiner Zunge an ihrer harten Knospe spielte. Ich küsste mich hinüber zu ihrer anderen Brust und knabberte vorsichtig an ihrem Nippel. Gleichzeitig fuhr meine Hand nach unten über ihren straffen Bauch zu dem spärlich Haarwuchs zwischen ihren Beinen und zu dem nassen Loch, das davon bewacht wurde.

Missys Hüften hoben sich vom Bett, als mein Finger ihren Kitzler berührte. Dann keuchte sie, als ich an ihren Schamlippen entlang fuhr, bis ich das hungrige Loch zwischen ihren Beinen gefunden hatte und ihr einen Finger in ihre Fotze schob. Ich konnte es nicht abwarten, endlich meinen Schwanz in ihr enges kleines Loch zu bekommen. Ich fickte sie mit dem Finger und beobachtete meine Verlobte und ihre Schwester dabei, wie sie sich gegenseitig befriedigten. Dabei rieb ich Missys harten Nippel an meiner Wange. Shannon hatte ihre Arme um Marys Arsch geschlungen und sie spielte mit einem Finger an Marys Arschloch.

„Schieb ihn rein“, sagte ich zu Shannon. „Sie liebt das!“

Mary keuchte und schnurrte anschließend, als Shannon ihren Finger an ihrer kleinen Rosenknospe vorbei schob und anfing, ihre Eingeweide zu ficken. „Hmm, ich liebe es im Arsch. Danke, Liebling!“

„Ich werde immer darauf achten, dass es meinem Fohlen gut geht“, sagte ich. „Ich liebe dich.“

„Ahhh“, machte sie. „Auch dann, wenn du einen Finger in der kleinen Fotze meiner Schwester stecken hast?“

„Sogar dann, wenn ich meinen Schwanz in der kleinen Fotze deiner Schwester stecken habe!“ sagte ich und bestieg Missy.

Missys Beine spreizten sich willig für mich. Ihr Gesicht war vor Anstrengung und Erregung gerötet. Ihre Augen hingen an meinem steifen Schwanz. Ich wusste, dass ich größer war als Damien, aber er war schließlich auch erst fünfzehn und er würde sicher noch wachsen. Ich setzte meinen Schwanz am Eingang zu ihrer Fotze an und drückte dann langsam nach vorne.

„Oh wow!“ sagte Missy. „Der ist groß!“ Ihre Fotze gab meinem Schwanz nach und packte ihn mit seidiger Weichheit. Ich drückte weiter, bis ich ganz in ihr steckte.

„Deine Fotze fühlt sich toll an“, sagte ich, als ich anfing, sie langsam zu ficken. „Eng und schön seidig.“

Missy stöhnte unter mir. „Das fühlt sich besser an, als mit Damien“, flüsterte sie.

„Ich möchte wetten, dass er ihn einfach nur reinsteckt“, sagte ich. „Hat er dich nicht vorbereitet?“

„Nein“, gab Missy zu. „Wir wussten beide nicht richtig, was wir taten.“

„Nun, mach dir keine Sorgen. Desiree zeigt ihm gerade, was man tun muss, um eine Frau zu befriedigen“, sagte ich.

Ihre Fotze zog sich zusammen und auf ihrem Gesicht sah ich ein wenig Eifersucht. „Die Schlampe mit den dicken Titten?“ keuchte sie. „Er muss immerzu sabbern, wenn er dicke Titten sieht.“

„Er ist noch jung. Er hat noch nicht gelernt, all die unterschiedlichen Größen und Formen von Brüsten zu schätzen“, sagte ich. „Und deine sind ganz besonders bezaubernd.“

„Aber was ist, wenn er… Desiree mehr mag als mich?“ fragte sie plötzlich. Gott, sie ruinierte noch die Stimmung mit diesem Gelaber über ihren Freund.

„Liebst du ihn?“ fragte ich sie leise. Meine Eier schlugen gegen ihren Arsch, während ich langsam Tempo aufnahm.

„Ja“, antwortete sie. „Ich will ihn heiraten und seine Babys haben und ich möchte in einem großen Haus mit ihm zusammen leben.“

„Ich kann sicherstellen, dass er dich auf ewig liebt und dich nie verlässt.“

„Wirklich!“ keuchte sie. Ihre Hüften fingen jetzt an, sich unter mir zu bewegen und ihre Stimme wurde höher, während die Lust unseres Ficks jetzt durch ihren Körper floss. „Ja, das möchte ich gerne so haben.“

„Missy, du liebst Damien von ganzem Herzen für immer und ewig“, flüsterte ich.

„Oh ja, das tue ich“, stöhnte sie. „Mein süßer Damien!“ Ihre Fotze zuckte jetzt auf meinem Schwanz. „Ja, ja, mein Damien!“

Ich fickte sie fester und genoss das geile Gefühl, wie ihre kleine Möse meinen Schwanz ausmolk. Ihre Lippen küssten meinen Hals, ihre Hüften drückten ihren Kitzler an mein Schambein und wollten noch einen weiteren Orgasmus erzeugen. Ich nahm eine ihrer kleinen Brüste und drückte ihren Nippel. Und dann grunzte ich über ihr. Neben mir stöhnte Mary ihre Lust in Shannons Fotze. Das Bett schaukelte von der Wucht meiner Stöße. Ich war jetzt ganz kurz vor meinem eigenen Orgasmus.

„Hier kommt es!“ keuchte ich. Noch drei heftige Stöße in ihre Fotze. Und wieder verkrampfte sich ihre Fotze um meinem Schwanz, als ich ihren Kitzler berührte. Und dann explodierte ich in ihrer engen Fotze und schoss ihr meinen Saft in den Bauch. Hoffentlich nahm sie die Pille! Ich war mir nicht sicher, wie es Mary aufnehmen würde, wenn ich ihre Schwester schwängerte.

„Wow!“ stöhnte Missy, als ich über ihr zur Ruhe kam. „Ich bin zweimal gekommen!“

„Beim nächsten Mal, wenn du mit Damien fickst, wirst du auch kommen“, sagte ich. „Er ist bestimmt ein sehr strebsamer Schüler.“

„Das hoffe ich für ihn“, kicherte Missy. „Sonst werde ich ganz schön sauer auf ihn sein, weil er mich betrogen hat.“

„Und was ist damit, dass du ihn auch betrogen hast?“ fragte ich.

Missy schaute zu ihren beiden Schwestern, die sich noch gegenseitig befriedigten. „Nun, wir gehören ja doch alle irgendwie in die Familie. Dann ist das wohl kein richtiges Betrügen. Das ist dann doch mehr eine andere Art, seine Liebe zueinander auszudrücken.“

„Die beiden machen es sich richtig gut, schau mal.“

„Ja“, sagte Missy. Mary und Shannon behandelten einander die Fotzen, als stünden sei kurz vor dem Verhungern. Mein Schwanz wurde in Missys leckerer Fotze wieder hart. „Wirst du schon wieder hart?“ fragte Missy.

„Hmmm, ja“, sagte ich. „Wir sollten mal eine andere Stellung ausprobieren.“

Missy kicherte. „Okay!“

Ich nahm sie in die Arme und rollte mich auf den Rücken. Jetzt saß sie auf mir. „Cowgirl“, sagte ich. Missy erhob sich etwas. Ihre schwellenden Brüste schoben sich nach vorne, als sie anfing, sich auf und ab zu bewegen. „Gut so. Mach ein bisschen schneller und ändere den Winkel ein wenig.“ Missy lehnte sich ein wenig weiter nach hinten. „Spürst du, dass mein Schwanz jetzt andere Stellen in deiner Muschi trifft?“

„Ja“, sagte Missy mit einem Lächeln.

„Das solltest du auch mit Damien machen. Du hast so viel mehr Kontrolle“, sagte ich ihr. „Sorge dafür, dass sein Schwanz die Stellen in deiner Muschi trifft, die sich am besten anfühlen.“

„Das werde ich bestimmt tun“, sagte Missy und sie keuchte, als sie mich ritt. „Ich werde ihn fertig machen!“

Missy ritt mich immer schneller. Sie warf ihren Kopf nach hinten und ihr rotblondes Haar peitschte um ihren Kopf. Ich streichelte ihren Bauch und fuhr dann mit meinen Händen zu ihren apfelgroßen fest Brüsten. Die kleinen Kegel waren fest und hatten harte Nippel, mit denen ich jetzt spielte. Ihre Fotze fühlte sich fantastisch an, während sie mich weiter ritt. Sie war schleimig von ihren Säften und von meiner ersten Ladung.

Neben uns kam ein ersticktes Stöhnen von Mary und sie wand sich auf ihrer Schwester. Shannon kam es einen Moment später. Mary rollte von ihrer Schwester herunter und schmiegte sich an mich. Ihr Gesicht war von Mösensaft bedeckt und sie küsste mich und ließ mich Shannons süße und würzige Muschi schmecken. Als sie den Kuss beendete, fragte Mary: „Macht meine Schwester deinem Schwanz gute Gefühle?“

„Das tut sie, Mare!“ sagte ich.

„Gib ihm einen guten Ritt, Baby“, ordnete Mary an.

„Ja, ja, mach ich ja schon!“ keuchte Missy. „Oh wow, diese Stellung ist toll! Meine Güte, ich glaube, es kommt mir schon! Ja, ja! Ich komme!“ Ihre enge Fotze packte meinen Schwanz, als es ihr kam und sie setzte sich schwer atmend auf meinen Schwanz.

„Du musst ihn weiterficken“, sagte Shannon.

„Oh“, keuchte Missy und fing an, mich wieder zu reiten.

„Reite ihn!“ jubelte Shannon. „Reite ihn, Cowgirl!“ Dann pfiff sie auf den Fingern.

Missy trug ein breites Grinsen, während sie mich hart und schnell ritt. Sie hob eine Hand über ihren Kopf und schwang ein imaginäres Lasso. Mary küsste mich ein zweites Mal. Meine linke Hand griff nach ihrer Brust. Mary rückte sich ein wenig hin und her, damit ich besser hinkam. Und dann spielte ich mit ihrem Nippel. Ich stöhnte in Marys süße Lippen, als ich die Fotze ihrer kleinen Schwester mit meinem Sperma überflutete.

„Ich will, dass du Shannons Arsch fickst“, flüsterte Mary mir ins Ohr. Dann setzte sie sich auf und zog Missy von mir herunter und legte sie auf das Bett. Mary spreizte ihr die Beine und die junge Fotze öffnete sich und weißer Saft floss heraus. Mary beugte sich nach unten und leckte einen großen Klecks weg, der zu Missys Arsch herunter gelaufen war. Dann tauchte sie in Missys Fotze in und fing an, sie auszulecken.

Ich kroch über Missy und Mary hinweg zu Shannon. „Wirst du mich jetzt ficken, zukünftiger Bruder?“ fragte Shannon mit einem schelmischen Lächeln.

„In den Arsch“, sagte ich und drehte sie rau um.

„Ich bin noch nie in den Arsch gefickt worden“, sagte sie und ihr Selbstbewusstsein schwand. „George… er will das auch immer.“

„Liebst du ihn?“

„Ja, er ist toll“, sagte sie. „Und er ist total süß und er macht mich glücklich.“

„Und warum machst du ihn dann nicht glücklich?“ fragte ich und spreizte ihre Arschbacken.

„Ich… ich habe Angst“, saget sie und biss sich auf die Lippe. „Das tut bestimmt weh.“

„Nur bei mir“, sagte ich. „Ich werde dich für ihn einreiten.“

Shannon keuchte vor Schmerz und ich sah, wie Mary von zwischen Missys Beinen herüberschaute. Sie grinste. Sie hatte davon gesprochen, dass Shannon sie ständig herumgeschubst hatte, als sie noch Kinder waren. Ich lächelte zurück und fickte in Shannons engen Arsch hinein und dann zog ich mich wieder zurück und rammte mich mit aller Kraft wieder nach innen.

Am Ende genoss Shannon den Arschfick dann doch noch und sie bettelte darum, dass ich ihr in den Arsch spritzte. Als ich das tat, war sie schon einmal gekommen und sie war auf dem Weg zu ihrem zweiten Orgasmus. Ihr Arsch war heiß und eng und er bereitete mir großes Vergnügen, als ich in sie hineinspritzte. Shannon kam es zum zweiten Mal, als Missy ihr mein Sperma aus dem Arsch leckte, während Mary und ich zuschauten.

„Ich glaube, das Essen war ein großer Erfolg“, sagte ich ihr.

Sie lächelte und küsste mich. „Ich bin schon gespannt auf Samstag, wenn wir das Essen mit deiner Mutter haben“, sagte Mary mit einem verdorbenen Lächeln.

Ich lachte und dann hörte ich, wie mein Telefon summte. Ich stand auf, fand meine Hose und zog mein Handy heraus. „Endlich funktioniert das Streaming, hoffentlich kannst du zuschauen *-)“. Die SMS war von Vivian, dem erstem Mädchen, das ich gefickt hatte.

Als ich vom Teufel meine Kräfte bekommen hatte, hatte ich sie bei Starbucks ausprobiert. Ich hatte Vivian, eine Kundin, gefickt und die beiden Baristas: Cynthia und Mary. Und dann hatte ich mich in Mary verliebt und ich war der Meinung gewesen, dass Vivian und Cynthia so süß zusammen waren, deswegen hatte ich befohlen, dass sie sich auch verlieben sollten und dann das Liebemachen im Internet streamen. Das hatte ich total vergessen.

„Die SMS ist von Vivian“, sagte ich Mary. „Sie und Cynthia fangen jetzt mit dem Streaming an.“

„Oh, dann lass uns zuschauen“, sagte Mary ganz aufgeregt.

Dann schrieb ich zurück: „Cool. Mary und ich und ein paar andere werden zuschauen! *-)“. Ich nahm meinen Laptop und tippte den Link ein. Er führte auf eine Streaming-Seite mit Namen Nasty-Girls-Live.com. Dann nahm ich ein HDMI-Kabel und schloss meinen Laptop an den Fernseher im Schlafzimmer an.

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Travis schoss seine Ladung in Antsys Muschi und fiel dann auf sie. Antsy bewegte noch ihre Hüften. Sie war kurz davor zu kommen, als ein lauter Schnarchlaut von Travis zu hören war.

„Dieses Arschloch ist doch tatsächlich eingepennt!“ stöhnte Antsy. „Hilf mir mal, der erdrückt mich.“

Ich schob feste und rollte mit einiger Anstrengung den Fleischklops von Antsy herunter. Ich fiel dabei über sie und unsere Brüste rieben sich aneinander. Antsy starrte mich an. Ihr Atem beschleunigte sich und sie leckte ihre roten Lippen. Elektrizität war zwischen uns beiden. Eine Kraft zog uns zueinander. Ihre Haut fühlte sich unter mir wie Feuer an. Ich fuhr mit meiner Hand über ihren Bauch und dann zu ihrer rasierten Muschi hinunter. Sie war nass von ihrer eigenen Lust und von Travis Sperma.

„Nein“, keuchte sie protestierend, als mein Finger anfing, langsam ihren Kitzler zu reizen. „Ich bin doch keine Lesbe!“

„Ich auch nicht“, flüsterte ich. Ich küsste sie wieder und rollte ihren Kitzler zwischen zwei Fingern. „Es ist nicht lesbisch, wenn man betrunken ist“, log ich.

Antsy entspannte sich und kicherte. „Das ist gut, ich bin nämlich sehr betrunken.“ Dieses Mal küsste sie mich und ihr Kuss wurde immer aggressiver, als ich ihr einen Finger in die Fotze steckte. Ich suchte nach ihrem G-Punkt. Ich musste dieses Mädchen zum Orgasmus bringen, bevor es zu nüchtern wurde. Ich musste den Spruch von Avvah vollziehen.

Ihr Körper wand sich unter meinen Aktivitäten. Ich hakte meinen Finger und strich über die Wand ihrer Fotze. Ich suchte nach diesem Nervenbündel, während mein Daumen sich weiter um ihren Kitzler kümmerte. Ihr Körper zuckte unter mir und da wusste ich, dass ich den G-Punkt gefunden hatte. Ich fing an, ihn zu massieren.

„Komm für mich“, flüsterte ich ihr ins Ohr und leckte an ihrem Ohrläppchen. „Ich will deine Lustschreie hören!“

„Wenn du mich da weitermassierst“, stöhnte Antsy, „dann werde ich für dich bellen wie ein kleiner Hund.“

Ich verstärkte meinen Druck auf ihren G-Punkt und rollte gleichzeitig ihren Kitzler mit meinem Daumen, während ich an ihrem Ohr lutschte. Ihre Hüften wanden sich, als sie sich immer weiter auf ihren Orgasmus zu bewegte. Und dann wurde ihr Körper ganz steif und ein erstickter Schrei entrang sich ihrem Hals.

„Avvah Mark Glassner“, flüsterte ich. „Avvah Mark Glassner.“

Antsy wurde steif unter mir. Sie fiel in eine Trance, als der Spruch wirkte. Und dann kam sie wieder. Ein Lächeln umspielte ihre Lippen. „Das war schön“, sagte sie und dann schloss sie die Augen und dann wurde sie ohnmächtig.

Ich seufzte frustriert. Meine Muschi war heiß und bereit und ich wollte auch kommen, aber jetzt lagen nur zwei nutzlose Betrunkene ohnmächtig in meinem Bett. Ich musste wohl selber Hand anlegen. Ich fuhr mit meinen Händen nach unten und fing an, mit meiner Muschi zu spielen. Mhhh, meine Finger fühlten sich gut an, wie ich so mit der einen Hand meinen Kitzler schrammelte und zwei Finger der anderen Hand in meine Fotze stieß. Ich war jetzt einen Schritt näher daran, Schwester Louise zu retten und Mark und seiner Geliebten das Handwerk zu legen. Der Gedanke regte meine Lust noch weiter an und es dauerte nicht lang, da kam ich sehr geräuschvoll.

Als ich mir meine Lust von den Fingern leckte, wusste ich mit absoluter Sicherheit, dass Gott über das Böse triumphieren würde. Meine Muschi juckte immer noch und ich fuhr mit meinen Händen nach unten, um mir einen zweiten Orgasmus zu gönnen. Dabei fantasierte ich von Marks Gesicht, als er erkannte, dass er geschlagen war und dass all seine Schandtaten rückgängig gemacht worden waren.
To be continued…

Click here for Kapitel 20

The Devil’s Pact Servants’ Chronicles Chatper 1: Cindy’s Interview

 

 

The Devil’s Pact Servants’ Chronicles

Chapter 1: Cindy’s Interview

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Male/Females/Teen female, Consensual, Magic, Incest, Oral, Toys

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Notes: This takes place during Chapters 34 and 40.

Monday, September 2nd, 2013 – Cindy Mayflower – South Hill, WA
I lounged naked in Doctor Willow’s exam room, enjoying the afterglow of my orgasm. My mother moaned and gasped beneath Doctor Willow. The Doctor had a thick strap-on and was fucking Mom hard. Our Monday gynecological visits were the best part of our week. Somehow, during the last month-and-a-half, we had become more than Doctor Willow’s patients—we had become her lovers. I took a deep breath, the air filled with the scent of pussy. Mine, mom’s, Doctor Willow’s, and Nurse Hayfa’s cunts all mixed together to form this wonderful, intoxicating fragrance.

I frowned; it was a familiar scent, but something was missing. I took another deep breath, trying to place what was missing. “You don’t use those sweet-smelling incense anymore,” I suddenly realized, blurting out my words without thinking.

Beautiful nurse Hayfa—busy washing the dildo Doctor Willow had just fucked me with—turned and smiled, “You and your mom are comfortable enough now, you don’t need them to relax.” Her accent was exotic and musical.

She was naked, her dusky skin lustrous. My eyes fell to her ass—beautiful, full, round, heart-shaped. I wanted to kneel behind her, spread her cheeks, and taste her. As she washed, she shifted her hips, waggling that gorgeous butt invitingly at me.

“Fuck me! Make me cum, Doctor Willow!” Mom moaned.

I glanced over to see Doctor Willow’s cinnamon ass, also nicely shaped, pumping up and down as she humped my mother. It was part of our treatment for Prevarication Syndrome. I’m not sure how having a dildo pleasuring us—especially attached to the beautiful Doctor Willow—cured it; I just knew how much I loved the treatments.

My gaze was drawn back to Hayfa. I couldn’t resist that ass. I had read the Odyssey last year in English, and that ass was a siren, calling to me. Like Odysseus’s crew, I was helplessly drawn to Hayfa’s gorgeous rear. I walked across the small exam room—echoing with Mom and Doctor Willow’s passion—and knelt behind the Arabic nurse, and gave each cheek a quick peck.

“What are you doing back there, amira?” Hayfa asked. Amira was Hayfa’s nickname for me; it meant ‘princess’ and it made me feel so special when she said it.

I didn’t answer, deciding to let my actions speak for me, and spread her dusky cheeks. Her asshole was almost the same shade of brown as her skin, blending in. I let my tiny tongue gently taste the sour of her ass. I probed her wrinkled anus with my tongue, then pressed it forward into her asshole like a little dildo. Her bowels were hot and rough, twitching about my invading tongue

“Oh, you delightful sharmoota!” she moaned. “Tongue my ass!”

She gasped as I slipped two fingers into her drenched cunt. The nurses always had to watch Doctor Willow make love to Mom and me, and I always felt so bad for them that they didn’t get to enjoy themselves. I worked my tongue as deep into her sour ass as I could while my hand busied with her pussy. My thumb found her clit and she gasped, clenching her ass about my tongue.

“Oh, yes, stir me up!” she purred. “Telhas bokhshi!”

I fingered her faster as I worshiped her tasty, sour ass. Her breath grew more ragged, her pants higher pitched. Her hips writhed and shook. She let out a low, throaty moan, and her entire body went momentarily rigid. Juices flooded the hand fingering her pussy as a powerful orgasm rippled through her.

“Thank you, amira,” she panted. “That was so nice.”

She turned, pulled me to my feet, and gave me a loving kiss. “You’re welcome,” I beamed at her, proud that I had made her cum.

I turned just in time to watch Doctor Willow cum with Mom, the two shrieking loudly. Their breasts—one pair ivory, the other cinnamon—mashed together, nipples kissing. Doctor Willow collapsed on my mom, nuzzling her neck as the pair luxuriated in their afterglows. After a moment, the Doctor sighed, kissed my mom on the lips, then climbed off of her.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Mom breathed; her body flushed.

“It was my pleasure,” Doctor Willow answered as Nurse Hayfa began removing the strap-on from her. “How are your jobs going, Pearl?”

“Terrible,” Mom answered, “Neither one gives me enough hours, and I don’t have enough time to go home between them. They’re running me ragged, and I can barely pay the bills.”

Doctor Willow smiled, “I have an exciting opportunity for you and your daughter.”

“What?” Mom asked, her voice a mix of hope and caution.

“The Living Gods are going to need servants,” she answered, stepping out of the harness. “I don’t know exactly when, but you and your daughter are just the sort of candidates they’re looking for.” I felt heat flush through me as Doctor Willow’s considering gaze fell on my body.

“When would it start?” Mom asked.

“The interviews probably won’t be for a while,” Willow answered. “The mansion is months away from being completed, but the Gods may need servants sooner than that. So I’ve been instructed to offer retainers to keep potential candidates available at a moment’s notice. You would each be paid $3000 a month.”

“$3000!” Mom spluttered. “Each?”

The doctor nodded. “You’d just have to agree to a few stipulations. Hayfa, the contracts.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Hayfa murmured, my eyes following her ass as she swayed across the room. She produced several pieces of papers and handed one to each of us.

I examined it. I’d have to keep in shape—healthy eating and daily exercise—and attend weekly church service at one of the Living Churches springing up like mold across the Puget Sound. I blinked at the last stipulation. I would have to be willing to let the Gods, both Mark and Mary, use my body for sex, whether with Them or a third party of their choice. If hired, I would have to swear my soul to the Gods in exchange for eternal youth and their love.

Mom bit her lip, glancing at me. “This sounds like we would be…what? Their bang-maids?”

I flushed, picturing the God, Mark; He was handsome, young, with piercing blue eyes, and His Goddess was perhaps the most beautiful woman in existence. My pussy moistened, thinking about lying with a God. He’s like a prince from a fairy tail—the perfect man. I was dying to try out a real cock. I was too afraid to let any of the boys who went to Rogers High School make love to me, but Mark… I would definitely let Him ravish me. Sometimes, when I masturbate with my dildo—part of my Prevarication Syndrome treatment—I would imagine it was Mark making gentle love to me.

Why did I have to be sick the day Mark came to my High School last June? It seemed like He had ravished half of my female classmates. It was more proof of His Godhood; what normal man could fuck that many women in a day, let alone get an entire locker room full of girls to have an orgy with Him. All the girls He had fucked talked about how amazing He was. I could have been one of those girls if it wasn’t for the darn stomach flu!

“Exactly,” Doctor Willow answered. “They’re very lustful beings, and all of those who serve them have agreed to this.”

“Even you?” Mom asked.

“Even me.”

Mom chewed on her lip. “Eternal youth…is that possible?”

“They’re Gods; anything is possible.”

“Why do they need my daughter, she’s only fifteen?”

“I’m old enough,” I interrupted. “You don’t mind when Doctor Willow or Nurse Hayfa touches me.”

“That’s for your treatments,” Mom pointed out.

“He’s so handsome,” I sighed, “I wouldn’t mind, Mom. Not with Him.”

“You’re a package deal,” Doctor Willow said. “He’ll love the mother-daughter combination.”

Mom kept chewing her lip; I was afraid she was going to gnaw it off. “Please, Mom,” I wheedled. “You wouldn’t have to work those crappy jobs. We’d have more than enough money!”

She stared at me for the longest time. “Fine,” she sighed.

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

Wednesday, October 2nd, 2013 – Cindy Mayflower – Murano Hotel, Tacoma, WA
Our lives had changed when Mom and I had signed our contracts. Doctor Willow had immediately handed us each a check for $3000. It was one of those fancy business checks, larger than the ones Mom used to pay rent. Mom was able to quit her jobs, and we started hitting the gym and eating healthy. No more McDonalds for dinner!

Like most of the country, last Saturday we had fallen under the evil Brandon’s spell, forced to think he was a god. Luckily, two days ago Mark and Mary defeated him and revealed their glory—naked and wreathed in flames, the perfect embodiment of human strength and beauty—to the entire world. Then last night, Doctor Willow had called, saying an SUV would arrive to take us to our maid interviews with our Gods. I was so excited to finally serve Them.

Only if I passed my interview.

I couldn’t sleep for the longest time; too afraid that Mark would hate me. He would take one look at my budding breasts—I barely even needed to wear a training bra—and my flat ass and think I was too young and childish instead of my mature fifteen. I was a sophomore in high school, and far more mature than the girls my age. I just wished I looked it! And why did I have these stupid braces! They made me seem eleven!

At precisely 9:00AM, two women dressed like slutty cops knocked on our door. A sandy-blonde beauty, her round breasts about to fall out of her half-opened bodice, smiled at me when I opened the door. “I’m 23, and this is 24,” she said, motioning to the dusky-skinned cop next to her—she looked similar to the Arabic nurse Hayfa. Both had silver chokers about their necks inscribed with a number, and a curious, bronze amulet dangling between their tits. “We’re looking for Pearl and Cindy Mayflower.”

“I’m Cindy,” I smiled, trying to hide my nervousness.

The Arabic 24 eyed me. “He is going to to eat you up, balim.” I didn’t know what to say to that, but it brought a searing blush to my cheeks. 24 grinned, nodding her head. “He is definitely going to devour you.”

“Is it them?” Mom shouted from the back of the house.

“Yes,” I answered.

I heard her mutter a bad word. “I’ll be just a minute!”

“We need to search your daughter anyways, ma’am!” 23 shouted back.

“So start stripping,” 24 ordered, her tone firm, commanding.

“I…what?” I asked.

“If you’re not bound, we need to search you before you can be allowed into the Hotel,” 23 answered.

Bound? Where they going to tie me up? “Okay.”

I was wearing a new dress, cute and sexy, that laced up in the back, and cupped what little breasts I had, pushing them up to suggest I had some cleavage. It made me seem older. I reached behind me, starting to fumble for the lace, when 23 slapped my hands away and started unlacing me herself. The dress fell down, and underneath I wore only a garter belt and white stockings.

“Oh, he is definitely going to eat you up,” 24 purred, groping me. “Especially with those braces. Umm, balim, after your interview, we can get together. I get off at six.”

I flushed at her directness. “Maybe,” I squeaked. Was she wanting to have sex with me?

“You’re going to love serving them, the benefits are definitely worth it.”

Mom came out to see the two cops running their hands all over my body, sliding fingers into my intimate spots, and tweaking my nipples. I was flushed and horny when the two cops finished, the Arabic cop licking her fingers that had just been wiggling inside my pussy. They turned to my mother and quickly stripped her, hands fondling her inmate places.

I reached for my dress to put it on. 24 saw me, objected, “The Gods would rather see you naked. Uniforms will be provided if you’re hired.”

I flushed and nodded. Mom moaned and groaned, and was as flustered as I was when they finished their ‘search’. I was pretty sure it was unnecessary; more for the depraved enjoyment of the cops then to protect the Gods. Well, we agreed to be the Gods’ living sex toys, so I should get used to being fondled. Besides, it was kinda exciting, and my pussy was definitely aching to be ‘searched’ some more.

I fidgeted the entire ride, my poor pussy on fire. When we arrived at the Murano Hotel in downtown Tacoma, it was cold outside, and my nipples became as hard as diamonds when I stepped out of the SUV. Just a hundred feet away, the crowd of pilgrims that filled the street could see our nudity, and a great cry went through them. They must know that we were here to please the Gods and they were jealous of our good fortune. Many held signs proclaiming their willingness to be the Gods’ lovers. It was exciting, all these eyes lusting after me, and if it wasn’t for the cold wind whipping my blonde tresses, I would have been tempted to stay and bask in their attention.

Two more bodyguards flanked the doors, black rifles slung about their shoulders, and opened them up for us. It was blessedly warm inside, and my teeth stopped chattering almost immediately. About a dozen naked women sat nervously in the lobby, fidgeting in their seats. Soft chatter filled the air, like the warble of a flock of birds, going silent every time there was the slightest disturbance, looking around for the source, before they resumed their chirping. They were all beautiful, from as young as fourteen or fifteen, to as old as their late thirties. Most were in their twenties. I recognized many as patients of Doctor Willow, suffering from Prevarication Syndrome like Mom and me.

Doctor Willow and her receptionist Jayda entered the lounge, a clipboard in their hands. “Asuka, Tomoyo,” the doctor read off her clipboard. A naked, Japanese teen—long hair as black as night, newly-budding breasts, and creamy, olive skin—stood up. The Doctor led her up to the elevator.

They were going alphabetical by last name; when one interview was finished, they would call down for the next interviewee, one at a time, although once a pair of sisters went up together. The interviewees were always escorted by either Jayda or Doctor Willow. Usually the elevator would return with only the doctor or her receptionist, but sometimes a sobbing woman would walk out, muttering, “I couldn’t do it,” or, “It’s too much to ask of a person.”

“Mayflower, Cindy and Pearl,” Jayda called. She was all smiles as she led us into the elevator. “Don’t be scared, Cindy, they won’t hurt you.”

“Did you sell your soul to them?” I asked, a tremble passing through my body.

She smiled, nodding, “It’s quite pleasant to do, but you’ll be bound to them forever. Even in death. But the rewards…” Her smile grew ecstatic. “The rewards are worth it.”

The elevator seemed to take forever, moving slowly up to the top floor of the hotel, and a swarm of bees seemed to have invaded my tummy, buzzing around in the tight space and stinging me. The bile was rising up sour into my throat; I wanted nothing more than to empty my belly of the swarm. The elevator slowed, lurched, stopped; a bell dinged, and the doors slid slowly open.

Jayda led us through the hallway and Tomoyo, dressed in a french maid’s outfit, exited a room, carrying cleaning supplies. I flushed when I saw just how revealing the dress was: the blouse was transparent, Tomoyo’s dark nipples clearly visible through the black material, and the skirt was scandalously short; so short I was sure her bum would be visible if she bent over.

“Is that what we’ll be wearing?” Mom asked.

Jayda smiled. “The Gods delight in the beauty of their followers.”

“And why aren’t you dressed like that?” Mom asked pointedly.

“I don’t serve our Gods directly, I serve Willow,” Jayda answers. “She has a lot more…independence, and chooses how the nurses and I dress. Willow is at the same level as the Holy Sluts, though she isn’t one of them.”

“I see,” Mom answered, sounding a little puzzled.

“She’s a special case,” Jayda shrugged. “She once was a Holy Slut, but retired and serves the Gods in other ways.”

“Like finding beautiful women to serve them?” Mom asked. “Under the guise of free medicine.”

“Exactly,” the nurse answered. “Plus, she enjoys molesting her patients.”

“Molesting…” Mom’s eyes widened. “Prevarication Syndrome. It’s not real?”

“Nope! We used a little bit of magic to relax you two.” It clicked in my head; the incense. It always relaxed me and made me want to do whatever the doctor ordered. “Don’t worry about that, it’s just how things are done. Dr. Willow earned her rewards, and now you two are about to earn yours. Unless you have a problem with that?”

My mom glanced at me. “I guess it doesn’t matter how we got here, it just matters that we have the opportunity to serve Them.”

Jayda patted her arm. “That’s the spirit. C’mon, they’re waiting.”

One of the Holy Sluts stepped out of a room into the hallway—Violet. I flushed at the sight of her. I always admired the picture of her that hangs on the Living Church’s wall. She was about my age, maybe a year older, her brunette hair pulled into two pigtails, and a gold choker glinting about her neck set with amethyst; for clothing she wore a naughty, Catholic schoolgirl outfit: very short, blue-and-purple plaid skirt; knee-high, white socks; and a plain, white blouse tied at the midriff. Her hazel eyes found mine, and I flushed as they widened—pink tongue running across her red lips—as she examined me.

“Good luck,” she said, a touch breathless.

My heart was thundering in my chest, and I just flushed more, trying to work up the courage to say something. A second Holy Slut, April, burst out of the same door—dressed in a similar naughty schoolgirl outfit, though her silver-rimmed glasses gave her a sexy nerd vibe—and entwined her arm about Violet’s possessively.

“C’mon!” she exclaimed. “We need to get going, Violet.”

“Right,” Violet murmured, letting herself get pulled along by the nerdy brunette. Her eyes remained fixed on mine until she was dragged into the elevator.

I hoped to see her again. She was so pretty; her pigtails made her seem so innocent despite the whorish outfit she wore. Her hazel eyes were strangely compelling, stirring a confusing mix of desire and longing inside me. It was Mom’s tugging on my arm that snapped me out of my contemplation of Violet’s perfect face: smooth cheeks, a button nose, and those red lips that seemed so kissable.

“Sorry,” I muttered; my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Jayda led us to a door guarded by a pair of slutty cops. One slid a keycard into the door and opened it. The suite was luxurious, like one of the hotel rooms that rich people stay in, and filled with strangely shaped furniture. Well, They are Gods—what did I expect them to stay in?

They sat on a love seat, naked, and Their eyes devoured us as we walked in. He was more handsome in person, with a chiseled chin, muscular chest, and deep-blue eyes that you could dreamily stare in all day long. And She was absolutely stunning. My breath caught as I beheld Her heart-shaped face that was framed by deep-red hair, and Her dazzling green eyes; Her breasts were perfect, perky and freckled, topped with dusky nipples. I had never seen a woman more beautiful in my entire life. I knew I would do anything to touch Her.

“Cindy and Pearl Mayflower,” Jayda introduced.

“Sisters?” my God asked.

“No, mother and daughter,” Jayda answered.

My Goddess shifted, leaning forward, and purred, “Really? You must have been young when you had her.”

“I was, Your Worshipfulness,” Mom breathed.

“Please, you can refer to me as Mistress or Ma’am,” She said, with a dismissive wave. “And he’s Master or Sir. Better than that mouthful.”

“Yes, er, Mistress,” Mom said.

“So, Pearl, have you ever had sex with your daughter?” He asked.

“No, Master.”

“Have you thought about it?”

My mom shifted, glancing momentarily at me, then answered, “Last week, during the Worship Orgy, it crossed my mind.”

“Why didn’t you act on those feelings?” She asked, fixing my mom with Her emerald eyes.

“I felt ashamed for those desires.”

“You shouldn’t,” She said. “There’s nothing wrong with showing your affection for your daughter. My mother and I are very close.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“If you want to serve us, you and your daughter must make love to each other,” He told her. “Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

I glanced up at my mom; I didn’t want to leave. My eyes widened as I saw her as a woman for the first time: her face was almost identical to mine, only more mature and ripened, with beautiful green eyes, and perfectly framed by her tousled, light-brown hair. My gaze traveled down her body; her breasts were full, sagging only a little bit, but still gorgeous with pink, fat nipples, and her stomach was sleek and toned. She was shaved; her thick pussy lips nestled between her slim thighs.

“You are so gorgeous, Mom,” I whispered.

Mom stared back at me with lust, and asked, “You don’t hate me?”

I shook my head.

She groaned low and throaty—like a big cat, a cougar—and pounced at me. Her lips were hot on mine, her tongue probing, playing across my metal braces, while her breasts pillowed softly against my budding tits. Two nipples rubbed like hard pebbles across my skin as we kissed, our tongues hesitantly exploring each other’s mouth. My hands seemed to wrap around her back automatically, hugging her tight.

“Oh, my sweet baby,” she purred. “I have to taste you. Let mommy taste your sweetness.”

“Oh, yes, taste me!” I moaned. “I’d love that.”

She pushed me down into a plush chair, the velvet fabric rubbing against my ass as Mom spread my thighs. Her fingers were gentle as they ran through the soft down of my pubic hair, teasing my tight pussy. Then she buried her face into my snatch, licking vigorously. She seemed desperate to taste every fold and crevasse of my youthful cunt, driving me wild with naughty sensations.

Mom was eating my pussy. And I loved it!

“Oh, mommy!” I moaned, my eyes widening as pleasure electrified my body.

“That’s fucking hot, Mare,” He groaned, and my eyes fell on His hard cock rising triumphantly from His crotch. Pride filled me up; I made His dick hard and throbbing.

My Goddess’s hand reached out, stroking His cock. “Why don’t we get that sweet, young girl to suck on your cock, hun.”

I licked my lips; that sounded wonderful.

“Would you like that?” He asked me.

I nodded, “Oh, yes, Master!”

He beckoned with His hand, and I pushed mom’s face away. She looked disappointed as I stood up and knelt before my God. I was intimidated by His cock. Only once before had I sucked a dick, during last week’s worship orgy. It was on a boy my own age named Patrick while my History teacher, Miss Blythe, coached me. “Mind your teeth,” she had explained. “The head of a boy’s cock is very sensitive. You can gently graze it with your teeth, but don’t bite. They will not like that.”

I started by licking—Miss Blythe taught me that it was a great way to start a blowjob—His cock, beginning at His balls, and licking all the way up to His tip. Mom’s head slid between my thighs, and her tongue worked wonderfully at my pussy, encouraging me to pleasure my God. I traced the mushroom-shaped head of His dick, felt Him shudder in pleasure, then sucked the head into my mouth.

A soft hand gripped my hair, my Goddess’s hand, pushing me down His cock. “Let’s see if you can deep-throat him,” She purred. More and more of His dick filled my mouth, starting to brush the back of my throat and I tensed. “Relax, Cindy,” She commanded. “Let his cock slip down your throat. He’ll love it.”

Her words soothed me, like they were reaching into my soul and brushing away my fear. I swallowed His cock, His hard shaft filling my throat, my lips descending to kiss His tangle of wiry, brown pubic hair. I couldn’t breath with His cock buried in my throat, but I trusted my Gods. He moaned and Her grip loosened, and I slid up His cock, taking a quick breath through my nose, before deep-throating Him a second time.

“You wouldn’t know that it was her first time,” He groaned. “She’s got a wonderful mouth.”

“Women always want to please me,” my Goddess purred. I slid back down the cock, deep-throating Him on my own as I heard my Gods kiss.

Over and over, I slid His cock into my mouth’s depths, rising back up, then I’d plunge His shaft back down my throat. Mom kept working my pussy, her tongue and fingers stroking the tempest inside me. Then the tempest broke and I came. I moaned loudly around His cock buried deep in my throat; Mom kept licking me and I kept climaxing, my passionate cries muffled by His cock.

“Holy shit!” He muttered. “Here it comes, slut!”

“Drink his cum!” She purred. “Don’t waste a single drop of my husband’s cum, you filthy whore!”

His cock burst salty into my mouth, three large blasts, forcing me to swallow like mad to keep from losing a single, delicious drop. His thick cream coated my mouth and tongue, and I savored its thick texture. I gasped for breath as He pulled His cock out of my mouth. I saw a bead of white cum oozing out of the small slit at the tip of His cock, and eagerly licked the tasty morsel into my mouth.

“Your daughter is quite the slut, Pearl,” He congratulated.

“Thank you, Master,” Mom answered, sliding out from beneath me. Her face was sticky with my passion; I couldn’t help but kiss her and taste my spicy flavor.

“Pearl, why don’t you put that tongue to work on my pussy,” purred the Goddess.

“I’d be honored, Mistress.”

My God grabbed my face, turning me to look at Him. “I bet your cunt is tight.”

“Yes, Master,” I flushed. “I’ve only used slim dildos. I’m practically a virgin.”

He grinned, “Come sit on my cock.”

I crawled up into His lap and tried to kiss Him; He stopped me, admonishing, “A good slut doesn’t kiss her Master with a mouth tasting of cum.”

“Sorry, Master,” I flushed.

My Goddess moaned as Mom started tonguing Her, and leaned in and gave me a kiss, full of passion. “It’s okay to kiss me with a mouthful of cum.” She giggled. “I love to taste my husband’s seed on another woman’s lips.”

“Or her cunt,” He smiled, and grabbed my hips and pulled me down on His cock.

“Umm, that’s the best,” She moaned.

His cock invaded me, sliding into my well greased and very tight hole. He was bigger than the dildo Doctor Willow had given me, and stretched my little pussy wonderfully. I gasped and bucked on His cock, eager to feel more pleasure. I rose up until only the tip remained in me, savoring the sweet way He rubbed inside me, then I dropped down, gasping as He filled me up once more.

“Fuck, she’s almost as tight as a virgin,” He groaned. “I love fucking teenage cunt!”

I beamed, working my hips on His cock. I was making my God happy, and His cock stirred up the passion inside me. “Fuck me, my Lord!” I groaned.

“My Lord,” He mused, hands guiding my ass as I pumped away on His cock. “I like the sound of that. I think the maids should call us my Lord and Lady.”

“Sure!” She moaned, her voice shrill with passion. “Oh, fuck, the mom’s got a tongue on her. These two are definitely keepers, hun.”

“If that’s what they want,” He stated.

“It is, my Lord!” I cried out. “I want to be yours!”

“Then you shall be, Cindy,” He answered as I bounced up and down on His wonderful cock.

His words triggered my orgasm; a powerful hurricane raged inside me, dashing waves of rapture against the coherency of my mind and washing away all reason and thought. Nothing remained but the pleasure of His cock. I clung to Him, my little nipples rubbing against His chest, His dick filling my tight pussy up. I ground my hard clit into His groin, adding more and more waves to the pleasure buffeting my body.

His cum pulsed into me, four large, heavy blasts that flooded my pussy—a God’s sacred cum. I was the vessel of His pleasure, worthy enough to used by Him, or by Her, to satisfy any desire They might have. I was in heaven, nirvana, or whatever you wanted to call it. I was Their servant.

Giddily, I let Him lead me into the bedroom where an older woman waited; still beautiful even though she was older than my mother. She was ripened to the peek of feminine beauty—Sandra Glassner, His mother. Her legs were spread, milky cum leaked out of the vessel that had brought one of my Gods into this world. I reverently knelt, my entire body trembling as I beheld this beautiful sight. I lowered my face, took a deep breath, and drank the nectar of her pussy.

“Zimmah,” He whispered, and energy sprang out of His mother into the two of us, wrapping about my very soul, then it snapped between us, a chain binding me to my God for all eternity.

Eyes widening, I moaned in awe, “I’m yours forever, my Lord.”

“Forever,” He smiled at me as my mom knelt and prepared to be bound. I watched eagerly as my mom’s tongue licked out, gathering a thick glob of His cum from Sandra’s pussy. He whispered the word. Mom was bound.

I threw my arms around my mom and kissed her soundly. Together we would serve our Gods forever. And that would give me plenty of time to get to know that cute girl with the pig-tails. Violet. What a beautiful name.

Click here for Chapter 2.

Chapter 48: The Patriot’s Blood

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 48: The Patriot’s Blood

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Males/Teen male/Females/teen female, Female/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Lactation, Pregnancy, Orgy, Violence, Wedded Lust, Wife, Sex Toy

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 47.



For those of us that remained free of the Tyrants’ control, one of the great mysteries of their rule was the Patriots. They had appeared almost immediately to challenge Mark and Mary. From their first assassination attempt in Washington D.C., to their spectacular attack in February of 2014 that left dozens dead in the streets of Tacoma, the Patriots had been a constant thorn in the Tyrants’ side. So why did they mysteriously vanish after almost crashing Mark’s plane on May 1st, 2014?

–excerpt from ‘The History of the Tyrants’ Theocracy’, by Tina Allard

Thursday, May 6th, 2014 – Mark Glassner – The Mansion

“Are you ready, Chase?” I asked my week old daughter. I was using that high-pitched voice everyone seemed to use when talking to infants; I just couldn’t help myself; she was so cute and beautiful. Chase, as we had started calling her, cooed and stared up at me with her blue eyes. “I wonder what mommy is doing? Huh, do you want to go see?”

Chase gurgled.

“That’s what I thought, kiddo.” I kissed her forehead, and walked into Mary’s dressing room. My wife was naked, applying her make-up. Her auburn hair fell in a full, curly mass about her shoulders. “Looks like Mommy isn’t ready yet, even though we have to leave in fifteen minutes.”

Mary glared at me over her shoulder, her expression softening when she saw Chase. “Mommy needs to look like a Goddess,” she said in that high-pitched, sing-song voice. “Daddy just needs to not look like a slob.”

I feasted on my wife’s body. You could hardly tell Mary had even been pregnant. Between her Gift and her Pact, her body had quickly returned to its youthful, flawless beauty. Though her breasts were still a cup size larger, heavy with sweet milk. In fact, that was the first thing my daughter and I had in common—we both loved Mary’s milk.

I admired my wife as she pulled dark-black, thigh-high stockings up her pale legs, then stepped into her deep-blue dress, and pulled it up her body. It was strapless, and would leave the majority of her freckled breasts bare. “Can you zip me?” she asked.

I handed Chase to her, and Mary cooed happily at our daughter as I zipped her up. Chase was a happy baby during the day; at night, however, she was the opposite. I yawned; I had to spend an hour last night walking up and down the halls with our fussy daughter before she fell back to sleep. I could have had a maid do it, but I wanted to be her father, and that meant getting little sleep so I could take care of her.

“Today is your special day,” Mary cooed in a high-pitched, singsong voice. “You’re going to meet your worshipers, and they are going to just love you.”

The Cunningham twins were building the main Church of the Living Gods in downtown Puyallup, but for the moment they had repurposed a nearby Christian megachurch. Many Christian churches were being transformed into Living Churches as the number of Christians in America plummeted. With so many new converts over the last five months, many of our original worshipers had founded their own congregations across the country, our Missionaries.

As we walked through the hallways of the mansion, maids would pause from their cleaning to curtsy, and I let my eyes admire their fine bosoms on display in their transparent blouses, and maybe reach under a ruffled skirt to give a bare ass a squeeze. Outside, our limo awaited in the middle of a convoy made up of black SUV’s carrying several squads of bodyguards. More bodyguards would already be down at the church making sure everything was secure.

“There’s my Granddaughter,” Sean, Mary’s father, cooed, taking Chase from my wife.

Both of our families were coming to the ceremony. Sean stood at the heart of his family: his very pregnant wife Tiffany; his two daughters, Missy and Shannon; their boyfriends Damien and George; and the family’s sex slaves. Dawn belonged to Missy, Starla to George and Shannon, Mrs. Corra to Damien, and Felicity to Sean and Tiffany. It was still surprising to see Felicity; nearly a year ago Mary had given the teenage girl to her father, and then Sean had freed her. I never thought to see her again, but a month ago she showed up, begging to be Sean’s slave again.

“Don’t hog her,” my mom said to Sean, a big smile on her face as he handed our daughter off to her. “She’s just so beautiful, isn’t she Betty?”

My mom’s Black girlfriend nodded in agreement, her arm wrapped around my mom’s waist. Antsy insisted on her turn holding my daughter, and she tenderly held her niece while her girlfriend Via cooed in joy. Missy demanded to be next, then Shannon, and last the very pregnant Tiffany had her turn, tears glinting in her eyes as she held her granddaughter.

“We have to get going,” I finally said, taking my daughter from my mother-in-law. “You can hold her later.”

The limo pulled away from the mansion, and I noticed a flash of fear crossing Mary’s face. “What?” I asked her, reaching across the car seat strapped between us and taking her hand.

Mary glanced down at our daughter. “What if the patriots…”

“They won’t,” I lied. It was a fear nagging the back of my mind too. What if they did try something. I kept coming up with rationalizations why they wouldn’t. “It’s too public. They’re not going to risk all those innocent people.”

“Maybe this is a mistake, Mark.”

“We can’t keep her in a bubble all her life. We have our guards, she has her amulet, and we’ll be there to protect her.”

“Yeah, sis,” Missy giggled. “Your husband’s a bad-ass warrior. There’s nothing to worry about. He’ll just summon that wicked sword of his and…” She a swishing noise and sliced her arm through the air. “That’s that.”

Antsy laughed. “That’s my big brother. Attack the problem head-on with a big, phallic-shaped object.”

“Maybe I should attack you with a phallic-shaped object,” I grinned at my sister.

“Promise?” she asked, fluttering her eyes.

“You can count on it, sis.”

“So, Mark,” Shannon said, shifting in her seat between George and Missy, “I’ve always wondered something.”

“Yeah?”

“You got your gift from Mom, but how would you pass yours on. Hypothetically speaking, how did one Monk give his powers to another. Would you have to ass-fuck the guy? I mean, that’s basically how nuns do it, right?”

“Yep,” Tiffany nodded. “We ass-fuck each other.”

A laugh passed through the limo.

“So, how do you pass it on?” Shannon asked after catching her breath.

“I’d have to die,” I answered.

“What?” Mary exclaimed, giving me a shocked look. “Is that a joke, Mark?”

“Nope,” I said. “Monks pass on their gift to the person that killed them.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “I figured they just fucked someone. Like nuns do it.”

“It’s an act of forgiveness,” I explained. “I never told you this, Mare?”

She shook her head.

“That sounds weird,” Antsy said. “Why would they do it like that?”

“Well, the way Azazel explained it was to help the person who killed you become a better human being. That’s why there are so few Monks; if they were slain by a demon, or if they thought the man who killed them would abuse the power, they wouldn’t pass on their Gift.”

Mary raised her eyebrow. “How can you forgive the person that killed you?”

I shrugged; it seemed impossibly hard. “Fuck if I know.”

“Well, I guess you won’t be giving up your powers any time soon, big bro.”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “Little attached to my life.”

“So am I,” my wife smiled, and leaned over our daughter’s car seat to kiss me on the lips.

“Get a room!” Ansty yelled and Missy wolf-whistled.

“If we got a room, then you couldn’t watch,” Mary smiled at our sisters.

“That’s a fair point,” Missy said to my sister. “Plus, we couldn’t join in. So where’s the fun in that.”

“Excellent point, pipsqueak,” Antsy agreed.

“Pipsqueak?” shrieked Missy.

“Umm, how about a cute, beautiful, vivacious pipsqueak?”

“Better,” Missy smiled, and gave my sister a kiss on the lips, which brought a wolf-whistle from Damien.

The crowds were ecstatic as we pulled up to the church, held back by a line of bodyguards. Many of the faithful had flocked to the church to see their new Goddess. There were more women then men, a sad reality in the aftermath of the Wormwood plague, and I admired more than a few pair of exposed breasts as our limo crept slowly forward.

I savored the passionate cries of my worshipers that flooded the limo when Leah opened the doors. Our sexy chauffeur bowed with a flourish of her arm as I stepped out. I surveyed the crowed, then held my hand to help Mary out, little Chase in her arms. It was like a physical wave slamming into us as the crowd roared their love. I waved and Mary held Chase up to her cheek, facing our daughter towards our loving worshipers. The noise scared our daughter, and she started fussing; Mary rocked and soothed her as we walked into the church.

“My Lord, my Lady,” breathed Rose Cunningham, her blonde hair caught up in a long braid. Daisy, her twin-sister and wife, slipped up beside her, and they bowed their heads.

The Cunningham Twins were our High Priestess. In a ceremony in March, we had publicly bound them with the Zimmah spell in this very building, sealing their position as the head of our Church. Since they were bound, and therefore trustworthy, Mary handed over Chase to Daisy. Our priestess’s face melted with awe, and she gently cradled our daughter.

“She’s perfect,” Daisy breathed, handing the infant to Rose, who bent down and kissed our daughter’s forehead.

“We’ve set aside a room for you to wait in, my Lord,” Rose said, handing Chase back to Mary. “The Ceremony will begin in about an hour.”

I suppressed a yawn, there were worshipers watching us, and it wouldn’t do to let them see us as humans. “Lead on,” I commanded.

It was a small room set with a few, padded benches. Two of the maids—cute, innocent Cindy and sultry, dusky-skinned Karishma—had set out refreshments of wine and juice and quickly started serving Mary, our families, and me. I sat down between my wife and my sister, who pressed her warm body up against me. Almost immediately, Missy and her boyfriend Damien started making out.

“You are such a cute thing,” Sean smiled as Cindy handed him a glass of wine. Pregnant Tiffany gave her husband an amused look.

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled back, braces glinting on her white teeth.

“I would have loved to have you in my class.” Sean’s hand reached out and fondled the teen’s ass. Cindy’s grin broadened. She was a maid and lived to serve in any way.

Mary glanced up, rolled her eyes, and held up Chase to Karishma. “She’s a little young to see this.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Karishma purred in her Hindi accent. “You are so beautiful,” she cooed to my daughter, carrying her out of the room.

Cindy let out a gasp; Sean’s hand rubbed between her thighs. It seemed like I had transformed both our families into sex fiends. My sister’s hand rubbed at my crotch, her lips kissing my neck as Sean pulled our teenage maid into his lap, and aggressively kissed her.

Mary shifted in her seat. “All my careful work is going to get ruined,” she muttered, then shrugged. “Oh well, I’ll just cast an illusion on myself.” She had become quite proficient with the Ashan spell, and sometimes like to play pranks on me with her illusions.

I glanced at her. My wife’s cheeks were flushed, her emerald eyes wide with desire, and wet spots appeared over her breasts, darkening her bodice. “You’re leaking,” I whispered.

“Damn,” she muttered, pulling her dress down. Her two dark-red nipples popped into view, white milk beading on the hard nub. When she became horny, her breasts always leaked milk.

Shannon, who sat on the other side of Mary, smiled. “Let me help you, sis.”

Mary gasped as her older sister sucked her right nipple into her lips, nursing loudly. My sister pulled my cock out, stroking it a few times, then leaned over me to capture my wife’s other nipple. My shaft was rock hard, leaking pre-cum as my sister jacked me off. Her cheeks hollowed as she nursed at my wife’s breast, milk leaking out of the corners of her lips.

“Oh, yes!” moaned Cindy, drawing my attention to my teenage maid bouncing on my father-in-law’s cock.

My mother sat down next to Mary’s mother. They shared a passionate kiss, my mom’s hand roaming across Tiffany’s pregnant belly, pushing down her top to reveal her large breasts and dark-red nipples. My mom sucked a nipple into her mouth, and Tiffany moaned her delight.

“Fuck my ass, George!” Missy shouted. “I’m so horny! I need two cocks!”

The younger Sullivan sister, her strawberry hair streaming around her as she rode Damien hard, smiled over her shoulder. Her skirt bounced up and down, flashing her naked ass at George. Shannon’s fiancee didn’t hesitate to bury his cock in his future sister-in-law’s teenage ass.

Antsy straddled me, her lips kissing me, full of my wife’s creamy breast milk. My cock slid into my sister’s cunt, warm and hot, and she writhed atop me. The room was filled with the moans and gasps of our family enjoying themselves. I gripped her asscheeks as she furiously fucked me.

“Umm, you have a great cock, big bro,” she purred.

A tongue licked at my balls. I had no idea whose. The tongue followed up my cock and licked where I penetrated my sister’s pussy. Antsy moaned, glancing behind her. “You dirty slut, Via!”

Via, my sister’s girlfriend, gave a wicked giggle. “Wait until I’m licking your asshole!”

Antsy gasped, her cunt tightening on me, as Via’s tongue moved away from my cock. I pictured the black-haired girl’s face buried in my sister’s asscheeks, tonguing her backdoor. Antsy’s back arched, and her breasts pressed against my face. I pushed her red bodice down, and sucked a pink nipple into my mouth. I was disappointed not to get any milk; I had come to love breast milk.

“I should knock you up,” I grunted as her cunt slid up and down on my shaft. “I want to drink your milk.”

“What a nasty thought,” my sister grinned.

“Here, hun,” Mary purred, and her milk-heavy breast loomed before me.

She was kneeling on the couch now, her sister on the floor eating out her pussy. I captured my wife’s nipple and sucked hard. Delicious milk flowed into my mouth, warm, creamy, and sweet. I loved her milk; I loved every woman’s breast milk. I wanted to drain her dry, but my daughter loved my wife’s milk, too. And I wanted to be a good father.

“Let me taste!” moaned my wife.

I didn’t swallow the mouthful I had, and pulled my wife’s face down for a passionate kiss. My balls boiled; sharing breast milk with my wife, and being buried in my sister’s cunt, was too much for my dick. I groaned, my body tensing, and I shot three large blasts into my sister’s womb. She kept riding me, gasping and moaning.

“Lick my ass, Via! You dirty whore! I’m going to make you cum so hard!” she screamed. “I’m cumming! Oh, yes! I love fucking my big brother’s cock!”

Antsy leaned against me, then Via pulled her off me. My sister stretched out on the floor, her pussy messy with my cum. Via straddled her girlfriend’s face, and they slipped into a sixty-nine, Via sucking my cum out of my sister’s pussy.

“Oh, shit!” Mary gasped, throwing her head back as she writhed on Shannon’s mouth. “I love it! Make me cum, sister!”

I looked around the room. Cindy knelt on the floor getting fucked doggie style in the ass by Sean, her mouth buried in Tiffany’s cunt. Betty, my mom’s Black girlfriend, had Missy’s head buried between her thighs while sucking George’s cock and Damien had mounted my mom, his face buried in her tits, as he pumped away at her cunt. Damien had a thing for older women, and my mom was one hot MILF.

Smiling, I slipped behind my young sister-in-law, and stuck my cock into her tight, freshly fucked ass. Whenever the entire family gathered together, these sort of orgies were the consequence. We all loved each other, and what better way to show it then by shoving your cock into your wife’s sister’s ass while she ate out your mother’s girlfriend’s cunt?

Mary knelt beside me, and gave me a kiss on the lips, reaching out to fondle her little sister’s ass. “Don’t get too carried away,” she whispered. “We do need to present our daughter soon.”

“I’ll try,” I moaned, Missy’s ass tight on my cock.

“Come lick my pussy, Mary,” Shannon cooed. “I need to cum so bad.”

Mary gave a wicked laugh. “Well, I’ll try not to get too carried away myself!”

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

Noel Heinrich – Patriot Headquarters, Montana

“The ceremony should be starting in an hour,” Wyatt reported.

“Let’s get the golem’s moving,” I ordered.

“It’s still not too late to abort,” Wyatt pointed out. “I’ve seen the crowds gathering on the news. It’s going to be a bloodbath. The golems are not discriminating! Why not attack their mansion?”

“It has to be a place that we know where they’re at!” I countered. “And someplace public so Mark won’t flee. You’ve seen him. When there are cameras on, he can’t help but play the invincible god! We don’t know their schedule, so we wouldn’t even know when they would be there, and if we did, we don’t know the layout of that mansion. They could be anywhere in there, and slip away through the Shadows. We’re only going to get one chance at this so we can’t afford to fuck it up!”

“There has to be a better way! We can wait for another appearance! One where there aren’t thousands of innocents gathered! We’re supposed to protect these people, Noel! Not butcher them!”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and steeled my nerves. “Their hunters have forced our hand. Alison and Desiree could find this place at any moment, Wyatt! The time for being careful is over! If thousands have to die, then that’s cheap in my book!”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Why did I ever listen to you, Noel?”

“Because you can’t stand idle while people are enslaved.”

Wyatt spat. “Fine. Let’s get this bloodbath over with!”

I reached out to the black sword lying on the table. It felt disgusting in my hand. The blade seemed to drink the light in, reflecting nothing back. It was emptiness hammered into a weapon, like a part of the universe had been cut away, leaving behind a void of nothingness, a hole in the fabric of space. It was Annihilation, and what it cost me to procure this cursed sword haunted my nightmares.

It was the only thing that could harm the spirits guarding the Tyrants in the Shadows. Three of us had been lost trying to slip through the Shadows and assassinate them before we learned just what was protecting them. This blade could harm them, could kill them, so to speak. It was Annihilation, and would unmake their very souls, ending what is eternal.

I slid it into the sheath hanging from my waist. “Start opening the portals.”

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

Alison de la Fuente – One Mile South of Patriot Headquarters

My wife was sleeping, half on her side, her black hair spread out across her pillow. Our sleeping bag was half unzipped, and her pillowy, brown breasts were exposed to my gaze, topped with her dark nipples, looking like Hershey kisses and tasted just as sweet. It reeked of pussy in the tent; we had fucked each other like bunny-rabbits last night after we finished planning our attack.

We were going to attack the Patriot’s suspected stronghold tonight. Our soldiers were special forces: a mix of SEALs, Delta Force, and Marine Force Recon. All were veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan, proficient at midnight raids. We each had ten soldiers under our command, all bound to Master with the Ragily prayer. More than enough to storm the house under cover of darkness and eliminate everyone inside.

We had a Predator drone orbiting overhead, and its infrared only showed a dozen or so people living in the ranch. Snipers would take out the sentries, and the rest would rush the compounds and capture or eliminate the Warlocks before they knew what was happening. For now we just had to wait behind a knoll a mile away from their compound.

And I knew just how I wanted to pass the time.

I dug into my rucksack, and found a hot-pink dildo and a clear strap-on harness. I quickly pulled them up my slim legs, adjusted the end of the dildo so it pushed against my little clit, and cinched the straps nice and tight. I thought I saw movement, and I stared at my wife; the curve her lips twitched as she suppressed a smile.

“Hmm, what a pretty, and helpless woman I found,” I said out loud. “It would be a shame if some perverted woman came along and molested her.”

Desiree continued her charade of sleep as I grasped the side of our sleeping bag, and peeled it gently to the side, exposing her lush, nut-brown skin. I reached out, and stroked her thigh up to her plump, Latin ass, squeezing her cheek. She was so beautiful, almost as beautiful as Mistress, and every day I was thankful to Master for bringing us together.

Sometimes I despaired of ever hunting down all these despicable Warlocks. I wanted to spend so much more time with my wife and my Masters. Then stop hunting the Warlocks, my subconscious whispered. Then you can go back to Master, and be with him and your wife.

No. Desiree needs to do this. And I need to help her!

Then let her do it, answered my subconscious. Master needs you at his side. Leave Desiree and go back to him. You never should have married her to begin with!

I love her! I screamed at my subconscious.

I didn’t know why I had these regrets about marrying Desiree. I loved her so much, more than Master and Mistress. When we were apart, I ached for her. It had been difficult the last six months being separated from her and our Masters. But Desiree needed to hunt down the Warlocks for what he had done to her, and I needed to help her punish them. Sadly, it was faster for us to split up. Anger burned inside me; I wanted to make all the Warlocks pay! I hated them all for what he did to my wife. If I could raise Brandon Fitzsimmons from the dead, I would flay every inch of his flesh, starting with the cock that raped my Desiree. I would just have to settle for disposing of all the other Warlocks.

I pushed my anger down, and ignored my stupid subconscious. I had a beautiful, ‘sleeping’ wife to molest. I bent down, and kissed her butt-cheek, then kissed my way up her hip and side. I found her ribs and gently moved her arm out of the way so I could follow them to her large melons. I rubbed my cheek against her soft breast, and found her dark nipple, sweet as chocolate, and sucked it into my hungry lips.

A soft sigh escaped Desiree’s lips, and I looked through a curtain of my pink hair to see Desiree quickly shut her eyes. I nipped her nipple, biting ever so gently with my teeth, and felt her twitch. I released her nipple, and kissed up the slope of her breast to her shoulder. I bit and nibbled on her shoulder blade, then I nuzzled at the nape of her neck, sucking hard just above her choker, and leaving a dark hickey.

“Umm, you are such a sexy, helpless woman,” I cooed in her ear, after kissing up her cheek. “I’m going to stick my cock in your cunt, and have my way with you.”

I rolled Desiree onto her back, her black hair falling over her face, and I parted her thighs, settling between them. I rubbed the tip of the dildo across her slit, smearing her juices to lube it. Desiree twitched every time the hard plastic brushed her clit. After a few tries, I found her hole, and pushed just the very tip of the dildo inside her, enjoying the fake cock’s base pushing back against my own clit.

“Oh, no, what are you doing?” Desiree gasped in mock alarm, pretending to wake up. “Please, stop! I am a virgin!”

“Ohh, that just make’s this more fun,” I cackled, pushing in the dildo an inch.

“No, no, no! Someone help me!” Desiree cried out. I giggled; she was cheesier than a soap opera. “I have never been with a man before.”

“I’m no man,” I growled, pushing in another inch.

Desiree’s hand found my perky breast, fingering the barbell that pierced my nipple, and purred throatily, “Umm, I see that.” I pushed in again, sinking the dildo almost all the way in. “No, this is wrong!”

I gently pumped into her. “Doesn’t this feel wonderful? Your cunt was made to have my cock shoved inside it!”

“Yes! I mean, no! It’s so wrong! Women shouldn’t be making love! I’m no lesbian! Take it out, please!”

“If that’s what you want?” I sighed, and started pulling the dildo out of her, but Desiree’s legs wrapped around me, stopping me. “I thought you wanted me to stop?”

“I…I…” she stammered. “I want you to fuck me!”

I pushed the dildo into her just a little bit. “You want me to fuck you? I thought you weren’t a lesbian!”

“I was wrong!” Desiree moaned. “Fuck me! Make me your lesbian whore!”

I shoved the cock in, delighting in the pressure on my clit. Hearing Desiree begging to be my lesbian whore was stoking my fires big time; I pounded her pussy. “My little, lesbian whore!” I gasped, watching her breasts bounce as I fucked her. “You love it, don’t you!”

“Yes!” Desiree gasped. “You’ve made me love women! Pound my cunt! Make me cum!”

My orgasm was an inferno burning through my entire body; I drove the dildo deep into her cunt as I writhed in passion. She kissed my neck and chin, her hips screwing up into me as she ground her clit against my pubic bone. Her hands squeezed my ass, urging me to fuck her harder. I pumped my hips as fast as I could, Desiree panting every time the dildo buried into her snatch.

Then she exploded, writhing beneath me. “¡Mi Sirenita!” Desiree gasped, lost in the pleasure of her orgasm. “¡Me estoy corriendo!”

Desiree smiled contentedly at me. So irresistible; I bent down and kissed my wife, and her arms wrapped around my body, hands running across my back. I slipped my tongue into her mouth, explored her and caressed her tongue. “I love you,” I told her when I broke the kiss, then I grinned, “Do you want to play…”

“Ma’ams!” Sergeant Holland shouted from outside, “Something’s going on at the ranch!”

I sighed, kissed Desiree one last time, and shouted, “We’ll be right there, Sergeant.”

“Very good, ma’ams.”

“¡Mierda!” Desiree cursed. I thought the same thing. I hadn’t cum yet!

After we were dressed in camo fatigues, we joined Sergeant Holland, formerly of the Marine Force Recon, on the knoll. Thirteen men and women were gathered outside before the field of rough, clay statues. A pair of them were standing on ladders doing something in the air. I focused my auraculars—a pair of enchanted binoculars Sam whipped up that allowed you to see a person’s aura—on the people on the ladders. There was something weird in the air, glowing lines, and the men moved their arms like they were drawing an arc in the air.

“They’re making a portal,” Desiree muttered. That definitely made them Patriots. Only the Patriots and Lilith’s followers knew that spell, and no man followed Lilith.

“Why do they need one so big?” I asked her.

The portal finished, shimmering as it opened on the misty Shadows. It was large, easily ten or twelve feet tall and twenty feet wide. More than enough for a human to walk through. My stomach sank; that was tall enough for one of those statues to walk through.

“¡Mierda! They’re fleeing!” She glanced at Sergeant Holland. “We need to attack right now! Before they get away!”

“Risky,” he answered. “We’d be exposed. There’s not much in the way of cover between here and there.”

They’re going to attack the Church! my subconscious screamed. You have to stop them!

“Wait!” I shouted, “They’re going to use the statues to attack the ceremony! Master and Mistress are presenting Chase this morning!”

As I spoke, the front ranks of statues lurched to life, and then more and more ranks. Like a wave rippling through a pond, the roughly shaped, clay figures started moving. A blonde woman was at the portal. She walked through, and a group of ten statues followed her into the Shadows.

“I want the drone to drop its hellfire missiles right on the mass of Warlocks!” I shouted at the Sergeant.

“Yes, ma’am!” he grabbed his field radio, and started relaying his orders.

Desiree grabbed her radio, “Snipers, take out their sentries! All other units prepare to assault the compound!”

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

Noel Heinrich

The portal sprang to life as Ben and Jarvis finished drawing their circle, the gray mists of the Shadows pressing against the portal’s plane like smoke against a glass window. Ben and Jarvis climbed down their ladders; the portal had to be carved large enough for the golems to fit. Nodding in satisfaction, I turned to survey the field of golems, all roughly shaped from the red clay we had dug out of a nearby hill. Each was hulking, standing ten feet tall, and broad shouldered, but only had the vaguest resemblance to a human, like they were merely cut-outs in the shape of a human without any of the fine details: eyes, nose, muscle definition, hair, lips, bellybutton. They stood motionless, waiting for a Warlock to activate them. We had a hundred and thirty. Ten for each of us.

I took a deep breath, and yelled the golem’s activation order, “Met!”

The first ten shook and came to life. Wyatt shouted the order, then Jarvis, Ben, Gus, Marrisa, and the rest. Row after row of the hulks came to life, their bodies creaking as they began to move. Hebrew letters appeared on their foreheads, blazing scarlet. They spelled a single word—death. They would reek havoc in the church, killing anyone who got between them and their target. They would not stop, they would not tire, they would only kill. Even if we were struck down, they would keep killing. And Mark, wanting to prove how great and mighty he was, would throw himself into the fray. I smiled; he’d be overwhelmed.

Drawing Annihilation, I stepped through the portal. With booming footsteps, the ten golems under my command followed me through the portal. I peered around the mists, keeping a wary eye for Mark’s ghosts. I didn’t see any. But you couldn’t see far through the fog. I glanced behind me, watching my golems stump through the portal. Wyatt and the other Patriots waited for their turn, standing in a group by the portal.

They all looked uncomfortable, nervous, talking to each other or smoking a cigarette. Arms folded, tension in their eyes. And guilt. Wyatt looked at the ground, his shoulders slumped. None of them liked my plan, but we had run out of options. Mark was too powerful, and we were being hunted down like dogs. There was—

Fire engulfed my compatriots. Red and orange erupted in the blink of an eye, boiling with fury. A rapidly expanding cloud of flames and smoke consumed them, then ripped through the ranks of the golems like a combine through a wheat field, battering their bodies into chunks of red clay. Then the shock wave slammed into me.

The fog spun about me as I was thrown by the force of the explosion; Annihilation flew from my hand. I tumbled through gray mist, struggling to comprehend what had happened as I was tossed like a piece of debris in a hurricane. I landed on my arm; there was a sickening crunch, and pain roared through me. I rolled across the ground, and came to a rest next to the black blade. It had landed point down, sunk to the hilt into the gray rocks.

What just happened?

I lay dazed, my ears ringing. My thoughts were scattered, and my mind groggy. The image of Wyatt and the other Patriots waiting for their turn to enter was burned into my mind. They had been standing together talking or smoking a cigarette, waiting for their turn to lead their golems through the portal, when—my thoughts froze.

They were all dead: Davin, Jarvis, Marrisa, Nyree, Kilie, Ben, Alec, Gus. I was the last one left.

I felt numb—too stunned for grief. Mark had found us, and sent some sort of air strike. I should be dead, too. I had barely entered the Shadows when it happened. My body shook; I missed death by mere seconds. The weight of what just happened fell on me, crushing my soul. I was the only one left.

It fell on me to save the world. That weight almost crushed me.

“I’ll see you dead, Mark!” I screamed into the shadows. “You’ll pay for every innocent life you destroyed!”

I sat up, trying to ignore the pain of my broken left arm. I glanced once at it, and almost threw up. It was twisted; a splinter of white bone jutted bloody out the side. I grasped Annihilation with my good arm, and struggled to my feet. Surrounding me stood my golems, patiently waiting for their orders. Two were destroyed in the blast, and another had lost an arm.

I was the last Patriot! I would see Mark Glassner dead even if it cost me my life! Gritting my teeth, I led my golems through the mists.

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

Alison de la Fuente

The hellfire missile struck at the center of the mass of Warlocks, consuming them in red flames and black smoke. The shock wave was so powerful I could see it rippling through the air, collapsing the side of a barn, blowing out the windows of the ranch house, and blasting the animated statues into huge chunks of red clay, which flew in every direction and crashed down across the Montana countryside.

The second missile was overkill, striking just feet from the first and collapsing the rest of the barn. A few seconds later, the booms slammed into our position on the knoll. The shock wave struck me, and I felt like I had just jumped face first into a pool of water. My hair whipped about my head, and my ears protested the sudden pressure change. The Patriot’s three sentries only had to time to gape at the missiles’ devastation before they fell dead to our snipers’ fire.

“Good kill,” Sergeant Holland radioed to the drone operators back in Langley, Virginia.

“Maybe one got away,” Desiree mused as she scanned the wreckage with her auraculars. “That blonde woman was through the portal when the missiles struck. I don’t know if explosions can pass through a portal or not.”

“Um, are those statues still moving?” I asked. Maybe twenty of them, the ones farthest from the portal, were still standing. It looked like they were turning around, walking towards us with a slow, unstoppable gait. “I think they’re coming for us.”

“Send another missile down,” Desiree ordered. “Wipe them out.”

“The drone only carried two Hellfire missiles,” Sergeant Holland answered.

The snipers opened fire, their bullets sending up puffs of red dust, pitting the surface of the claymen. They may as well have been firing BB guns for all the good their shots did. When the lead hulk reached the barbwire fence surrounding the ranch, it just walked through it, the barbwire tangling uselessly about its legs.

Sergeant Holland whistled and waved at our men waiting at the base of the knoll.

The soldiers scrambled up the hill almost as agile as mountain goats. Two had one-shot missile launchers called LAWs, small tubes that they quickly deployed. They aimed and squeezed their triggers. With a hissing whoosh, the rocket motors ignited and they streaked down the hill in a shower of sparks, and struck home, exploding against the chests of the first two clay men. Clouds of black smoke billowed away, revealing gaping holes blown into their chests. The first fell apart after taking one step, but the second somehow kept coming, enough of its mass left to sustain it. Despite the fact that I could see through the damned thing, the clay man kept plodding closer and closer.

“Set out Claymores,” Sergeant Holland shouted. Three soldiers slid down the knoll and started sticking Claymore antipersonal mines into the ground; small, olive-green rectangles, slightly concave, and stuck into the ground on small legs made of wire. They were powerful, filled with high-explosives and ball bearings, the charges shaped to spray a concentrated area with maiming death.

“Call Sam,” Desiree shouted at me. “We need to know how to kill these things.”

I pulled my satphone out of my pocket, looked up Sam’s number in the directory, and called her. It took a moment for the phone to connect to the satellite and another ten seconds before it started ringing. And it rang and rang as the clay men drew closer and closer. They were deceptively fast; while their gait was slow, their stride was very long, and they were already approaching the base of the knoll.

“Pick up, pick up!” I snarled at the phone in frustration.

A boom shook the air as the first claymore detonated, finishing off the second golem and spraying the third one with shrapnel, shearing off its arm; it didn’t seem to care. The soldiers opened fire, muzzles flashing, and my ears were assaulted with cracking gunshots. The golems were sprayed with automatic fire, chunks of mud flaking off them, and gouges and pockmarks began to litter their bodies. They still kept coming, the soldier’s bullets too small to hurt something that large made of hard-packed clay.

“How many claymores did you set out?” Desiree asked.

“Three,” Sergeant Holland answered. “All we had.”

“¡Mierda!”

We were in trouble. The satphone just rang and rang.

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

Noel Heinrich

“Ignore the pain, Noel,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Just ignore the pain. Mark Glassner must die for all the atrocities committed in his name, and his callous enslavement of the world. All humans deserve to be free, and to ensure that freedom it sometimes means spilling blood. Your enemies’ blood and your own. For generations, men and women have laid down their lives at the altar of Liberty, and today it’s your turn. So keep walking, Noel.”

I stumbled through the Shadows in a haze of pain, my golems lumbering along beside me. I knew my destination, picturing the church in downtown Puyallup, and let instincts guide me. That’s how you moved around in the Shadows—instincts. What would be a twelve hour trip in the real world, would take me maybe thirty minutes of trudging through the never-ending mist.

I tried to shove down the pain of my broken arm. I bound it to my chest with my torn shirt. All I wore now were my pants and my bulletproof vest, my 9mm service pistol holstered at my waist, a bronze dagger tucked into my belt, and Annihilation, the sword of negation, clutched in my good hand. I held the vile thing in a death grip; the price I paid was far too high for me to lose this blade.

I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, just one more step, over and over. Righteous anger fueled me—and guilt. The innocent girl’s face swam in my mind, pleading. I tightened my grip on the sword, trying to forget that memory. I never could.

The Tyrants had to die! Their tyranny could not be allowed to run unchecked. I would stop them no matter the cost to my soul! I just needed to keep putting one foot before the other. Step after pain-filled step. Time seemed to lose all meaning in the Shadows, and distance was only a thing remembered from the real world. Here everything looked the same. Gray ground, gray fog.

“Hello, Noel,” a soft voice whispered out of the mists.

She stepped out before me, blonde and beautiful, a sad smile on her lips. A terrible ache grew in my heart as I stared at the spirit, and for a moment my resolve slipped and those memories I had carefully bottled threatened to rush back; I tightened the lid, and reclaimed my resolve. Nothing was going to stop me, not after all I had done to reach this point. After I had killed—

The girl’s innocent face filled my mind again. Her face was never far, frozen in that awful moment. Her eyes had bulged as her fingers had clawed ineffectually at the garrote. Guilt racked my soul; I could not let her death be in vain! Her death had to mean something! Otherwise I had murdered her for nothing, and that would mean I was nothing more than a—

I pushed the guilt away; I was a Patriot. I did what was necessary to defeat the Tyrants. I gripped Annihilation, raising the hole-in-reality up, and leveled it at the spirit before me. I had to finish this! I had to kill Mark! No matter the cost!

Even if that meant condemning Chasity to oblivion.

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

Alison de la Fuente

“Pick up, pick up!” I screamed at the satphone. “Pick up you stupid…”

“Hello?”

“Candy, put Sam on right goddamn now!”

“We’re in the middle of something important,” Candy said brusquely. “We’ve found something here at Qumran, call back…”

“Put her on right the fuck now!” I screamed. “It’s life or death! We’re under fucking attack!”

“Fine, Alison,” Candy sighed. “You don’t need to be so melodramatic.” She paused, then asked, “Are you setting off fireworks?”

“Those are guns, you stupid cow!”

“Stupid cow?” she muttered angrily. “I should just hang up right now!”

“I’m sorry,” I said through gritted teeth. I wanted to reach through the damned satphone and wring the stupid cow’s throat. A boom rocked me, the second claymore detonated, blowing the legs off a golem. It fell to the ground in a cloud of red dust, then flailed on the ground with its arms, before finding purchase, and started dragging itself up the knoll. Great. “Now put Sam on before we die you stupid fucking cow!” I snarled, so angry my words almost ran together.

Candy snorted, and she spoke to someone. There was more rustling, then Sam answered, “Hey, Alison, what’s so important?”

“We’re being attacked by clay men,” I told her with relief. “The Patriots created them.”

“Claymen?” Sam frowned. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of that.”

My stomach sank. “Really? Only heavy explosives seem to do anything to them. And we’re running out of those.”

“Hmm, describe them in detail.”

“They’re tall, maybe ten feet, and made of red clay. They don’t feel pain or anything. They’re like animated statues, and we’ve already killed the Warlocks who activated them, and now they’re attacking us.”

“Interesting,” Sam murmured.

“It’s really not! These things are practically unstoppable!”

“They sound like golems,” Sam said. “It’s a Jewish legend. Supposedly they’ll obey any command that their Warlock gives them. Is there anything written on the golems’ foreheads?”

I peered through the auraculars at the nearest golem’s forehead. There was something there: three Hebrew letters. It was hard to make out which three as the golem lumbered forward. “Yeah, a three-letter Jewish word.”

“That would be met, I believe,” Sam answered. “It means death in Hebrew. Without a Warlock to guide them, it will just kill the nearest humans until it is deactivated.”

“So how do we deactivate them? Outside of brute force?”

“Oh, destroy the word on their forehead,” Sam explained. “That’s probably what actually stopped them. The blast probably disrup…”

I hung up—I didn’t have time for one of Sam’s long-winded explanations—and screamed, “Shoot for the forehead!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sergeant Holland shouted back, ejecting the magazine smoothly from his weapon and jamming in the next one, and started firing.

Bullets began peppering the golems’ faces. The damned things were so close, so I drew my Colt .45, and aimed the pistol at the nearest one’s face. My hand shook with adrenaline as I unloaded the clip; I missed with every shot.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I ejected the clip, fumbling with the replacement magazine. The first golem collapsed in a heap of red rubble from the soldiers’ fire, then a second and third. It was working! We could do this! I slammed the magazine into my pistol, released the slide, took a deep breath, aimed carefully. “You can do this, Alison,” I whispered, then fired, emptying my entire clip in two heartbeats.

And missed with every goddamn shot! I didn’t even hit the fucking golem’s giant torso! Dammit! The damned thing was almost as big as the side of a barn! And I did so well on the practice range. I ejected the magazine, my hands shaking violently. I tried to calm them down, breathing deeply. How were all these soldiers so calm? How could they face down unfeeling and unliving mounds of clay walking towards us like it was just another day at the office.

“We need to retreat!” Holland shouted. Half of the golems were destroyed, but the other ten were so close, about to summit the knoll.

“Fall back!” Desiree ordered. I didn’t need to be told a second time.

Two of the soldiers, Millner and Vasquez, kept shooting, providing cover for our retreat, as the rest raced down the slope of the knoll. It was two miles to where we parked the vehicles. Two miles across broken ground and scrub bushes; we’d never outrun the golems. That didn’t stop us from trying!

Fear spurred me as I ran down the hill, heedless to how dangerous it was. I didn’t care that I might trip and fall and break my neck, I just knew that if those things caught me a broken neck would be the least of my problems. The hill was dotted with olive-green brush that ripped at my arms as I raced by, leaving stinging cuts I barely felt. I reached the bottom of the knoll, thrilled that I somehow didn’t fall, and I put all my effort into running as fast as I possibly could. I wasn’t going to die here, killed by some fucking golem!

I stepped in a jackrabbit’s hole.

The damned thing was practically invisible, dug into a tuft of yellow grass. My ankle twisted; pain shot through me, white-hot. I fell forward with a loud gasp, landing hard on my hands and knees. I couldn’t lie here, those things would tear me apart. I pushed back up, struggling to stand. I put weight on my hurt ankle; it folded up like a cheap chair. I cried out, clutching it, and collapsing onto my face again.

“Alison!” Desiree shouted, kneeling down next to me.

“I think I messed up,” I said, trying to grin through the pain—I failed.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my arm.

Desiree put her arm under my shoulder, helping me up. She supported me, my arm wrapped around her shoulder. We struggled forward—I was reduced to hopping on my one good ankle. Behind us, I could hear thudding footsteps. I glanced back and saw six golems striding down the knoll after us, Millner’s ruined body clutched in one of the golem’s fists like a bloody, torn doll. Vasquez raced ahead of the advancing golems, running like the Devil himself was licking at his heels.

“Let’s go!” Vasquez shouted, grabbing my other arm and, together, he and Desiree half-carried and half-dragged me away from the golems.

We didn’t go fast. There wasn’t much that I could do. I opened my mouth, prepared to tell my wife to leave me, but she shot me a warning glance that said everything: “I love you, and I am not leaving you behind to be torn apart.” So I struggled to use my one good foot, trying to push us forward as they carried me. The other soldiers quickly outdistanced us, and the golems kept advancing like a force of nature, uncaring, unfeeling, unmerciful.

Holland and the other soldiers reached a line of scrub, and turned to provide us covering fire. Another golem collapsed behind us, but those thudding footsteps grew closer and closer. Two more collapsed. A grenade sailed over our head, exploded, and I screamed in pain as something hot seared into my ass.

“Faster!” I urged, glancing behind me to see a golem only ten feet away, his arms outstretched. Christ, his hand was bigger than my head!

The gunfire was dwindling; the soldiers were running out of ammo. They drew their sidearms, carefully aiming, and opened fire at the golems. I could hear the bullets whistling as they flew right over our heads. I scrunched down, trying to hunker my head out of the soldiers’ line of fire, and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what killed me. Whether it was the golem’s grasping hand or my own men’s bullets, I didn’t want to know.

See what your stupidity has done! my subconscious railed. You never should have left his side!

“I’m sorry, Masters,” I whispered; I didn’t want to die. I wanted to be at Master’s and Mistress’s side forever with Desiree. “I’ll wait for you with Chasity and the others. Yours forever.”

There was a groaning noise and a loud thud as something heavy crashed into the ground behind me. The gunfire stopped; the soldiers cheered, whopping and hollering with unabashed joy. I forced myself to open my eyes and look back. Strewn across the ground behind us were six piles of red clay, one just feet away, a small line of clay leading from that mass to just inches from me. The thing must have been just heartbeats from wrapping its strong hands about my neck and squeezing the life out of me.

Whoops of joy went up from the soldiers. I started shaking as Vasquez and Desiree set me down. We were alive. Energy surged through me, and I grabbed my wife and kissed her thoroughly on the lips. We were alive! She held me tight, trembling in my arms. We lived! We defeated the Patriots, stopped their attack, and survived! Desiree thrust her tongue into my mouth; my fingers stroked her neck and cheek, savoring her warmth, her life.

I was so happy! I didn’t even feel the pain in my broken ankle.

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

Noel Heinrich

A battle raged around Chasity and myself, the other ghosts attacking my golems with silver swords. The golems would punch, but their blows were ineffectual against the ghosts, unable to hurt those who were already dead. But their damned, silver blades could hurt my golems, hacking and biting into the clay, and sending chucks flying off to be dissolved by the mist. One golem collapsed, enough clay missing from its legs for it to be able to stand.

None of that mattered as Chasity stood before me, a silver blade in her hand. “Out of the way, Chasity,” I growled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Chasity answered.

I raised the black blade, the tear in reality, and Chasity’s eyes fell nervously on it. “Don’t be too sure, Chasity.”

“Watch out,” Karen called out. “That’s Mishbath, the Blade of Annihilation.”

Chasity’s eyes narrowed, but her resolve never wavered. “Turn back, Noel.”

“I can’t,” I hissed. “He deserves to die, to have never even existed. I will set mankind free from his tyranny!”

“Please, Noel,” Chasity begged, “Don’t make me kill you. Remember that night we shared, the passion?”

“I remember that you threw your life away protecting them the next morning!” I screamed. “They made you their slave and forced you to sacrifice your life. Just like all the other ghosts here! They are monsters, Chasity! Now step aside, or I will deliver oblivion to you!”

“Mark’s the monster?” Chasity asked, eyeing the blade with disgust.

Purple face. Bulging eyes. Hands scrabbling at the garrote.

I pushed the guilt down. “He’s enslaving the world, he needs to be stopped, Chasity.”

“He’s making it a better place,” Chasity retorted.

“Of course you think that. You’re still his slave!”

“I am,” Chasity asserted, voice full of pride, “and that’s why I can’t stand down. He’s my Master.”

“And you threw your life away for him!”

“No!” There was anger in Chasity’s voice. “My death was not in vain! He learned compassion! He stopped seeing us as merely things, but as humans with hearts. That’s why he set you free! He felt guilty for what happened to me. He learned compassion from my death. He’s just human, he’s made mistakes!”

“He’s a beast, a monster. He unleashed Lilith, and look at all the harm she’s caused!”

“Lilith tricked him!” Disgust curled Chasity’s lip, her eyes flickering to the abomination cluched in my hand. “You summoned Ashtoreth, and you call him a monster? He’s never murdered anyone! I know what you had to pay for that blade! Whom did you strangle?”

Bulging eyes and a purple face starring up at me.

“I did what I had to!” I spat.

“The excuse of a tyrant.”

“I am a Patriot!” I shouted, rage screaming from my lips, and I swung the blade at her face. The mists parted before the blade, snapping back like a taut string severed; the fog screamed in my mind as oblivion claimed a small portion of it. Chasity raised her silver sword, and negative black struck shining silver, locking together with a sickening screech that vibrated my bones. I drew back and hammered another blow at her; she parried. Again and again I slammed Annihilation at her; again and again she blocked my fury.

“Are you so eager for oblivion?” I snarled. “One slip-up and you’re gone, Chasity! Just let me pass!”

“I will face oblivion for him,” Chasity resolved, her face fierce and beautiful, her voice full of passion. “He is my Master.”

I had tasted that passion before. Memories of that night—her last night alive—we had shared flashed through my mind. We had loved each other passionately; I had been consumed in ecstasy for this woman. The emotions I had beaten down into the depths of my soul after Chasity’s death came rushing out, screaming in protest as I strove to drive my blade into her body.

“Please,” I begged, trying to bottle them up again, but they were like a gas hissing into the atmosphere, impossible to rebottle. “Please don’t make me do this.” I could feel the tears rolling down my cheek.

“Then stop! Walk away.” Her sapphire eyes softened. “I think I loved you that night. Maybe, if I hadn’t died, we could have been something more.”

Her words slapped me, and I stumbled back. No! Be strong! Liberty has its price! Blood must be shed, even if it’s the blood of your friend, your lover. With an animalistic scream, I leapt at her. Annihilation swung through the mist, the fog crying out in pain as the blackest blade cleaved through the vapors towards Chasity’s body. For just the merest moment, profound grief and regret flashed across Chasity’s face, then iron-hard resolve glinted in her sapphire eyes; her sword stabbed forward.

It didn’t hurt as her blade slipped between my ribs.

Annihilation fell from my suddenly useless hands before the abominable sword could connect with Chasity. For a moment I stood there, impaled upon the silver blade, staring into Chasity’s ice-blue eyes. Her face broke, twisting into sadness. She reached out with a trembling hand to me, but my legs buckled and became useless; I slid backwards off her blade, landing on the ground with a grunt. I stared up at the never-ending mist as my lifeblood spilled out, staining the gray ground red. I shivered, a numbing cold spreading through my limbs. Chasity stood over me, tears running like silver rivulets down her cheeks, and bent down and picked up the terrible blade.

“Do it,” I whispered, the guilt consuming my soul. I had murdered that girl for the blade. She had been so full of life, and I was only full of death. “Send me to oblivion.”

She swung the sword at my head.

Only it missed, burying in the gray ground just above the crown of my head. Something inside me snapped, the chain wrapped around my soul—my slave chain—was severed, setting me free from bondage to Lucifer. Free from his torment, but not free from my punishment.

“I don’t deserve this,” I sobbed as Chasity knelt down next to me, grasping my hand. A rough, wet cough rattled out of my throat; copper filled my mouth. “She was an innocent.”

Chasity stroked my face, bent down, and kissed me on the lips. When she pulled away, they were stained red. “We all make mistakes, Noel. Some are just worse than others.”

“I’m scared,” I whimpered. The cold was spreading through my torso; my vision shrank, leaving only Chasity’s beautiful face. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Roxy,” I cried out. That was her name. Roxy. She had run away from home; from one horrible adult to an even worse one. She had wanted to be an actress, going to Hollywood would be her big break. I stole that from her for something as meaningless as vengeance.

My eyes closed; regret filled me. That was living, regretting all the hurts you heaped on your friends, your family, on strangers; regretting all the missed opportunities—chances to have fun, to take risks, to experience love and companionship. What was the point in living if you never actually lived. I had let the anger and rage at Mark consume me, burning out all the good parts of my soul and leaving behind only ashes. Regret.

My heart slowed. All feeling faded away from me, the clammy mist upon my face, the rough ground beneath my back, the shuddering pain in my torso. Every sensation was bleeding from my body except one single hand gripping mine, full of love and forgiveness. I clutched at that hand as I hung over the precipice of death. I didn’t want to be alone and full of regrets. I wanted love. I wanted Chasity.

My heart stopped beating.

My soul fell into the darkness; I held on to Chasity’s hand with a death grip, unwilling to let go. I was like a woman hanging from a cliff mere moments from plummeting to her death. Her only hope is a strand of flimsy grass. So she clutches it, knowing the blades are too weak to support her weight, but not caring because she so desperately wants to live that she’ll do anything, no matter how impotent, to survive. I didn’t want to plummet off my cliff, so I clutched Chasity’s hand with all my strength—my blade of grass—and hoped for a miracle.

Sometimes miracles can happen.

I opened my eyes; Chasity’s face shone above me. I sat up, leaving my physical body behind; the mist assaulted my corpse, dissolving it like styrofoam in nail polish remover. Joy surged through me—I wasn’t going to be alone! I hugged her, and kissed her on the lips, warm and wonderful. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, and her lips kissed down my cheek to my ear.

“I didn’t let go,” she whispered. “You’re one of us now. Somehow your soul is tied to mine.”

“I chose love,” I answered, caressing her cheek. “I didn’t want any more regrets.”

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 49.

The Devil’s Pact, Ghost of Paris Chapter 6: The Locker Room

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

The Ghost of Paris Chapter Six: The Locker Room

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Male/Teen female, Male/Teen females, Mind Control, Magic, First, Incest, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, School, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.



Click here for Chapter 5.



Monday, September 16th, 2013 – Paris, Texas

I stood at the scene of my very first crime—the girls locker room at Boone High School. When I was nineteen, I worked as a janitor at this very educational establishment. Being a voyeuristic horndog, I quickly figured out where to drill a small hole to let me peep on the fine, young things changing and showering and carrying on.

It was the best month of my life. At least, before I made my Pact to become invisible at will, it was.

The three years I spent in prison when I got caught were the worst years of my life.

But that was the past. Soon nubile, sweet, innocent, beautiful teenage girls would be filling this locker room, stripping off their clothes, showering and soaping their youthful charms, and I would be standing in the middle of it. My pecker was as hard as a concrete slab, throbbing painfully. I resisted touching it, waiting for the true show to begin.

A bell rang, and the girls started filtering in, talking like a flock of songbirds, chirping all the meaningless stuff of their lives. “You’ll never guess…” and “Oh, my god…” and “That slut…” filled the room. I didn’t pay their words any mind. Shirts came off, exposing their bras: plain, white bras; frilly bras; cute bras, complete with little bows; racy bras that pushed up youthful tits. Some girls boldly took off their bras, not caring if their classmates could see their perky flesh before they put on their sports bras or tank top bras, while others were shy, hunching their shoulders to protect their modesty.

I was in heaven, staring at panty-clad asses as girls bent over to pull on gym shorts. My hands reached out, giving plump butts a squeeze, groping a pair of budding breasts, or feeling sleek thighs. Girls would shriek, looking around confused as they saw nothing.

“It’s the Ghost,” giggled a girl, finally realizing what was up as I gave her ass a squeeze.

“Ohh,” another girl said with excitement. “The cheerleaders are all sluts for the Ghost. I’ve seen them disappearin’ behind the bleachers.”

“I know a girl that boasts ’bout the Ghost visitin’ her bed at night. She says the Ghost makes her cum better than any boy at our school.”

“That’s nasty,” another girl giggled.

“Let’s get goin’, girls,” a man yelled from the entrance of the locker room. “Get your butts out of there, or I’ll have you runnin’ laps all period.”

“We gotta go, Ghost. Don’t wanna have Coach Windbag makin’ us run.”

And they were gone, the few minutes I had with them over, my cock still hard. I should’ve just started fucking one right away. I laid down on the bench, waiting for their gym class to be over. One girl had caught my eye—shy, with braces. I didn’t get a good luck at her titties as she hid in the corner. But they’re gonna have to shower when they get back, and I bet I could have bit of fun with Miss Braces.

My thoughts were full of the black-haired freshman smiling at me, her braces glinting silver on her teeth, making her seem even more innocent. I just want to feel her tight cooch envelop my pecker, and shoot my cum inside her. I bet she’s never even been fucked before.

“You still here, Ghost?” a girl asked.

“Course I am, sweetness,” I answered in my best ghost impression.

The sweaty girls were filing in, giggling and looking around. Miss Braces looked at the ground, quickly heading for her locker. Like before, she was shy, stripping faster than a flash of lightning; blink and you would’ve missed it. The she made a beeline straight to the showers, a towel clutched about her body, protecting her youthful charms like a doe with her faun.

I followed.

She threw her towel over the metal stall, turned on the water, and stepped in. I watched her nubile body as she soaped her pale skin. Her breasts were lovely, a little larger than a handful, topped with tiny, red nipples. Her ass faced me, wiggling, and I pounced like a hungry lion.

“What in the blue hell!” she shrieked as I pressed her up against the shower stall, my hands finding her tits as my cock rubbed on her body. “Oh, no, stop!”

“Just relax, sweetness,” I purred. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” I nuzzled her neck, kissing her soft flesh.

“Oohh, looks like Lizzy and the Ghost be gettin’ acquainted!” giggled some girl. “Wild, I can see the water running down the Ghost’s body.”

Lizzy’s hands were braced against the metal shower stall as my pecker searched for her opening. She had stopped resisting, my wish starting to take effect – part of my deal with the Devil was that any girl I molested would enjoy it – and she moaned as my cock rubbed on her sweet cooch. I found the tight, spongy opening, and pressed in.

“Oh, wow!” she moaned. “He’s inside me pressin’ against my cherry!”

“Pop her cherry!” someone clapped. “Break her in for the football team!”

I felt something blocking my cock. Lizzy was an actual virgin with an actual cherry. I had begun to think it was a legend. I drew back and shoved forward; the tissue resisted for a moment, then it gave way before my pecker.

I whooped loudly. “Popped me a cherry!” A clap went up from the assembled girls as I pounded Lizzy’s formerly virgin cooch.

“Oh, geez!” she groaned. “Oh, my gosh! His cock’s slidin’ in and out of me!”

“How’s it feel?” someone called out.

“Pretty great!” she answered.

Her juicy cooch felt more than pretty great, it was fan-fucking-tastic: tight, wet, warm, spongy. I pushed her against the shower wall, warm water spraying us. I reached around, and gave those tiny tits – little more than bee stings, but her nipples were hard as diamonds – a nice grope. She gasped as I pinched her nipples, and her cunt tightened about my cock.

“Fuck her hard!” someone yelled out. “And make her cum!”

“Lizzy, you slut! Drain the Ghost’s balls!”

“Pound the little whore’s snatch proper good, Ghost!”

“Make her howl! Lizzy’s so uptight, she needs a good cum to mellow her out!”

I sucked on her neck hard, wanting to leave a hickey. Lizzy moved her hips, panting softly at first, then growing louder as I thrust into her depths. Her voice rose an octave. Her head threw back, braces flashing silver in her wide-open mouth, and she absolutely howled with pleasure. Her tight cooch spasmed about my cock. Nothing felt better than a teen’s cunt cumming about your pecker!

My balls were tightening, my cum nearing. I gripped her slippery hips, and thrust a few more times. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic!” I howled as I spilled my balls inside her.

“Oh, shoot! I think he just came inside me!” Lizzy groaned. “Oh, wow! That feels so wild! Oh, gosh, oh, gosh!” She quivered, her cunt squeezing on my softening cock, her black hair tossing as her orgasm burned through her.

“You was a great fuck, sweetness,” I said, slapping her ass and grabbing her towel. I dried myself off, leaving her panting in the shower.

Lizzy was the last to leave, hastily dressing, her cheeks flushed. She paused as the next group of girls filed in, and said, “Thank you, Mr. Ghost. I…um…I had fun!”

I gave her sweet ass one final squeeze. “Me, too, sweetness. You better skedaddle before I have another go at your hot cooch.”

She giggled, and slipped out of the locker room.

I didn’t do much with the next group but fondle a few breasts, letting them know the Ghost was here. My pecker needed a recharge after Lizzy’s sweet cooch. Which was a shame, because there were some god-damn-gorgeous girls. By the time the second period was over, my pecker had almost recovered.

A pair of smoking-hot twins trooped in with third period. My heart stopped. My pecker rose to full mast. I had to have them. They were slim and graceful, faces full of freckles and large, exuberant smiles. Their hair was a deep auburn; one had hers plaited in a French braid, while the other twin’s hair was streaked with blonde highlights. Miss Braid lifted up her frilly top, exposing a pair of small breasts in a lacy bra.

“Oh, my god, did you see Dillon?” Miss Highlights sneered. “That haircut. Eww, what was he thinkin’?”

“Right?” her sister added incredulously, her bra sliding off. Her nipples were dark pink.

I reached out and gave one a pinch. She froze, nipple hardening as I rolled it between my fingers. A small shudder passed through her. She tossed a look over her shoulder, eyes trembling with fear and lust. I pinched harder, and a soft mew, almost like a cat, escaped her lips.

“I was thinkin’ of lettin’ Dillon ask me out,” Miss Highlights continued, unaware of her sister’s plight. “No way now.”

I pressed my hard pecker against Miss Braid’s tight jean shorts, nuzzled her neck, and whispered, “Why don’t you slide down them shorts and panties off your purtee ass, and let me fuck your tight cornhole.”

“Maybe I should start flirtin’ with Shane. Matti dumped him, and he’s lookin’ so sad.” Miss Highlights shuddered, eyes squeezed closed. “I could make him feel all kinda better!”

Miss Braid unsnapped her jean shorts, sighing and writhing her ass against me. I had both my hands wrapped around her tits, kneading the pliant flesh. Her twin kept prattling on about some dumb boy as she unbuttoned her own blouse. The shorts fell off Miss Braid’s hips, then she peeled her panties down. Her ass was smooth and pale and plump, and my pecker nestled between her cheeks.

“After I’m done kissin’ him, Shane’d forget all ’bout the hussy who broke his heart!” Miss Highlights had a smile on her lips as her bra came off; her tits looked identical to her twin’s.

I spat on my hand, wetting my pecker, then spread her cheeks. Miss Braid gasped as I shoved my pecker into her tight cornhole. She was velvety tight and deliciously hot. Her sister looked at her and frowned.

“What are you doin’, Marissa?” Miss Highlights asked, then she reddened, and hissed, “What did you do to your butthole? It’s spread open.”

“I’m gettin’ buggered by the ghost, Rhonda-May,” Marissa moaned. “Ain’t you been payin’ attention?”
“Saint Peter’s ghost!” gasped Rhonda-May, hands clasping over her tits.

“I ain’t no saint,” I growled. “But I am a ghost! And your sister’s lovin’ my attention!”

“Shit!” Marissa hissed. “Oh, my god! His cock! Oh, wow! I didn’t know anal could feel good!”

Rhonda-May leaned into her sister. “Really? You’re likin’ it?”

My hand snaked out, pushing Rhonda-May’s protective arms away, and groped her tit. She gasped, and tried to pull away, but I got a good grip on her nipple, yanking her back. My wish affected her, and she relaxed, cheeks flushing and hips wiggling as her cooch grew hot and bothered.

“You two are gonna be late for gym!” a mousy girl called out, not realizing what was going on.

“Tell the coach Marissa ain’t feelin’ good!” Rhonda-May panted. “I’m helpin’ her out.”

“Oh, shit!” Marissa cursed, her face burning red. “There’s definitely somethin’ goin’ on in my butt!”

“Eww, TMI, Marissa,” the girl answered. “But I’ll let Coach Breeze know.”

“Why don’t you get out of that skirt, sweetness,” I told Rhonda-May. “Let me see your cooch!”

Her skirt unzipped down the side. Her panties were plain, but her cooch was shaved bare, passion glistening on her lips. I slid my hand down and shoved a finger inside her. She was as hot as her sister’s ass, and I pumped my finger in and out a few times, really stirring the slut out, while she gasped and panted. Then I pulled my finger out and tasted it.

“Shit. You taste as delicious as cranberry dressin’!” I hooted. I gave Marissa’s ass a slap. “Why don’t you give your sister a taste.”

“Marissa!” Rhonda-May gasped as her sister’s finger shoved inside her. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Marissa answered, digging her finger deep inside her sister’s cooch.

“Well…ummm…you shouldn’t,” panted her sister.

Marissa pulled out her finger, drenched in her sister’s creamy juices, and stared at it. Then she quickly, like if she took a moment longer to think about it she would have lost her nerve, shoved the pussy-coated digit into her mouth. “Umm, she does taste like cranberries!” she gasped, then she shoved her fingers back into her sister’s cooch.

Rhonda-May leaned against the locker, closing her eyes, and enjoyed her sister’s fingerfuck. Then Rhonda-May reached out, and stuck her hands between her twin’s thighs. Marissa’s ass tightened on my cock, and I could feel Rhonda-May’s fingers wiggling inside her her sister’s cunt. I fucked Marissa harder, my blood boiling as I watched two actual sisters touch each other. Hot damn, selling my soul was worth this!

“You two are a pair of dirty sluts!” I groaned. “I reckon you should kiss.”

“Yes!” Rhonda-May agreed, and mashed her lips against her twin’s.

It was like watching a woman kiss her reflection. Tongues darted inside each other’s lips, both moaning their delight. Marissa shuddered, and came like an engine roaring to life, bucking and clamping her ass hard around my pecker. I was going to cum. Who wouldn’t watching a pair of hot, teenage twins kissing and fingering each other?

So I pulled out of her ass. I wanted to experience both girls, and if I came, it’d be a while before I recovered. There were so many pretty, young things to fuck and my pecker just wasn’t up to the task. Maybe there’s a way in the Witch of Endor’s book to get more stamina.

“Marissa, lie down on the bench,” I ordered. “I want to watch Rhonda-May eat out your cooch, while I fuck her ass!”

Marissa didn’t hesitate to stretch out on the bench. Her sister stared at her spread thighs and the shaved pussy glistening between them. She licked her lips, then knelt on the bench, her ass sticking up in the air, and buried her face in her sister’s snatch.

“You taste like cranberries, too!” Rhonda-May giggled.

“Don’t stop lickin’ me!” her sister moaned. “Ohmygod! That felt hella amazin’!”

I spread Rhonda-May’s asscheeks, her asshole brown and wrinkled, and cornholed the girl. She gasped into her sister’s cooch, her ass bearing down hard on my pecker. I fucked her hard, and she came as quick as a firecracker, already primed by her sister’s fingering.

“Lick me!” purred Marissa. “Keep licking me! I love it! Oh, why did we never do this before? Seventeen years sharin’ a room… Think of all the fun we coulda had!”

“Well, we got the rest of our lives to have fun!” Rhonda-May giggled.

“Umm, so much fun!” Marissa pinched her stiff nipples. “Oh, fuck! I’m gonna cum! This is hella wicked!”

“Cum for me, sister!” Rhonda-May purred as she slipped two fingers inside her sister’s cooch. “Cum on my tongue!”

Marissa’s back arched; she screamed and sprayed her twin’s face with juices right as the mousey girl walked back in. Rhonda-May tensed as she heard the footsteps. I didn’t care. I just kept fucking her tight cornhole.

“Rhonda-May, Coach Breeze said to take Marissa to the nurse if she ain’t…” her voice trailed off as she saw Marissa cumming on her twin sister’s lips. The new girl turned beet red, then fled the locker room.

“Oh, shit!” gasped Rhonda-May. “She saw us! Holy shit!” Her ass spasmed on my pecker, as the little slut came a second time.

Her ass milked me, my balls tightening. I was ready to cum. I buried myself deep in the girl’s cornhole, and pumped my cum into her. I pulled out, and sat down on the bench, breathing heavily. The two girls bolted up, sweat plastering their bodies, faces full of fear.

“Oh, no! She’s getting the Coach!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Marissa cursed over and over like a record skipping, about to hyperventilate.

“Relax, sweetnesses,” I told them, rubbing their faces. “Here’s what you do.”

When Coach Windbag – the school’s nickname for the blowhard – stormed in, his face red as a baboon’s ass, he found the twins cuddled together, looking as sexy as fucking possible. The coach’s eyes widened, and a bulge formed in his gym shorts.

“What in tarnation are you two doin’!” he demanded. “What a pair of brazen, depraved hussies!”

“We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate you, coach,” purred Rhonda-May as she fondled Marissa’s pert tits.

“Come here, and let us shower you in gratitude for being such a great teacher.” Marissa spread her sister’s legs, and fingered her shaved cunt.

No man could resist two twin teens fondling each other. The coach stumbled forward, eyes drinking in the sight. The two girls did exactly what I told them to, and pulled his shorts down and shared his cock, licking it like a pair of cats at a saucer of milk.

It was like watching my own porno. One of them fake school ones. Only there was nothing fake about this. The twins sucked and licked, sharing his cock between them, while the coach closed his eyes and gripped their auburn hair. Their tongues and lips would meet, and the twin sisters would kiss each other around his cock.

That was too much for the coach, and he erupted across both of their faces. They looked so fucking trashy as jizz dripped off their freckled faces. Without prompting, Rhonda-May licked a line of spunk up her sister’s chin, then shared a sloppy, cum-filled kiss with her twin.

It got the two girls out of trouble, and my pecker ready for the fourth period girls.

The first girl to saunter in for fourth period was a cute, skinny, Mexican girl, her dark hair falling in loose curls about her bronze shoulders, and her ass writhing like a pair of cats fighting in a sack beneath her tight jeans. She unbuttoned those tight jeans, shimmied them slowly down her thighs, waving a plump ass clad by a skimpy, bikini-cut pair of panties in my face.

“¡Madre di dios!” she gasped as I pushed her across the bench, and yanked those panties down her bronze ass. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just the Ghost, sweetness,” I purred, giving her ass a squeeze. “Just gonna fuck that purtee cooch of yours.”

Her cooch was pretty and tight, brown lips hiding pink flesh like a flower closed for the night. A light fuzz of black hair adorned her cunt, making my pecker ache more for her innocence. I spread her open, admiring the folds of her cunt, juices beading as her cooch got all hot and bothered beneath my touch. Her nectar began dripping out, leaking down her thighs; she was as wet as a flower after an afternoon shower.

“Ooh, Zena, you are in for a treat,” Kelly, one of the cheerleaders I fucked on a regular basis, cooed.

I rubbed the tip of my pecker across the lips of her cooch.

“Wait, no, not in my clam!” Zena protested. “If you have to fuck me, use my butt! Please! I’m a good Catholic girl! It’s not sex if it’s up the ass!”

“Or cheating?” Kelly asked, curious. “I heard you let Bobby Yates fuck your ass!”

“Right,” Zena nodded. “Because anal ain’t sex, just like a blowjob or a handie. Only my boyfriend can have my clam. Please, Mr. Ghost?”

“Well, I reckon you did ask all nice and such,” I told her, then shoved my pecker up her cooch anyways, savoring the tight velvet of her clam. “But your cooch looked so purtee, like a redhead at prom, and I just couldn’t resist, sweetness!”

“¡Cabrón!” she yelled as I pistoned her clam, wriggling her hips, which caused her bronze ass to jiggle. “Oh, fuck! Umm, harder! Your cock is devouring my clam!”

“Is it cheating if it’s a Ghost?” Kelly asked.

“I hope not,” Zena moaned. “Because his rope is churnin’ up a furnace inside me!”

Kelly’s breasts popped out of her bra as she kept changing into her gym clothes. They were perky and round, and oh-so-pale against the locks of her flaming hair. I reached out, fingering her hard nipple; Kelly smiled, slapping my hand away. “You just concentrate on Zena,” she admonished. “Maybe you’ll get to play with me durin’ cheerleadin’ practice this afternoon.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetness.”

“Oh, fuck! I wish my boyfriend felt this great!” Zena purred. “I’m gonna cum!” She moaned, her delightful clam sucking on my cock as her climax rocked her. “Christ, I’ve never cum when Julio fucks me!”

“You should dump him,” Kelly said. “Or make him go down on you!”

“Ooh, that’d be nice,” Zena smiled.

“Or I could go down on you,” Kelly offered.

Zena looked startled at Kelly. “You’re gay?”

Kelly giggled. “No, I’m straight. But every girl on the squad’s tasted pussy. Even Ursula.” A conspiratorial smile formed on her lips and she bent down. “In fact, straitlaced Ursula’s taken quite a likin’ to Marybeth’s snatch.”

“Oh, God,” Zena moaned. “Maybe you could…y’know.”

“You bet,” Kelly answered, pulling her gym shorts up her legs. “Better hurry up or Zena’s goin’ to get yelled at by Coach Windbag.”

“I reckon if you give Zena a nice kiss, that’d speed me up, sweetness.”

Kelly rolled her beautiful, blue eyes. “You are such a perv, ghost.” Then she bent over and planted a kiss on Zena’s startled face, the girl’s cooch tightening nicely on my pecker. Kelly’s tongue wiggled pink into Zena’s lips, moaning like a little trollop. It was too much for my balls, and I exploded inside the Mexican girl, pasting her taco with my salsa.

“I guess that did the trick,” Kelly smiled, and sauntered out.

Poor Zena still had to run laps, but she had a smile on her face the whole time. I sat on the old bleachers, careful not to get any splinters, and watched her run. Her perky breasts bounced beneath her shirt; she didn’t have time to put on her sport’s bra, and her regular bra just let her tits flop about. I leaned back on the bleacher, closed my eyes, deciding to take a nap. Soon cheerleading practice would start, and I needed my strength to please one of those nubile girls beneath the bleachers.

I definitely needed to go the library tomorrow. I wanted more stamina.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 7.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 43: The Hidden Place

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 43: The Hidden Place

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Female/Female, Male/Female, Hermaphrodite/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Massage, Incest, Pregnant, Wedded Lust, Ass to Mouth, Anal Sex, Oral Sex

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 42.



Xiu and I were lying in Their rumpled bed, Divine Mark’s passion cooling inside me and Divine Mary’s passion covering Xiu’s face, when He proclaimed the First Commandment of the Theocracy: “You shall not make Pacts with Demons.” I wrote furiously on a notepad, then She gave the Second Commandment: “You shall place no Gods before us, for they are false.”

–The Gospel of April 41:51-52

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

The door to the Matmown clanged shut.

It was cold in the room, the metal walls and floor icy to the touch. A table – cheap, the kind that could fold up and you’d see in a hotel’s convention hall – sat in the center. I sat at the head, and Mary sat across from me. All the sluts: Alison, Desiree, Violet, April, Jessica, Lillian, Xiu, and Korina, along with Willow, Sam, and Candy, took their seats. The people I most trusted. My wife, our sluts, our doctor, and our Vizier and her assistant.

My family. We were a strange group, but I loved them all, though I loved one far more than the others.

There was no electricity inside the Matmown, there could be no holes in the walls to run a wire. It would break the containment. The only opening was the door, designed to seal shut and be impregnable from the outside. Sam thought of everything: floor lamps, enchanted to glow without power, stood in the room’s corners; space heaters struggled to lessen the chill; and the chairs had built in seat warmers.

I don’t understand how she does it, her explanations always went over my head.

“Okay Mary, what have you been holding back?” I asked my wife, eager to finally find out her big secret. The last six weeks had been almost unbearable at times.

Mary took a deep breath. “Mark, we have started something terrible.”

Terrible? I knew Mary had some guilt over the way we treated people in the beginning. But terrible was a little much. “What do you mean?”

“Lucifer and the other demons are trapped in the Abyss, but their prison is weakening. Because of us.” I could see guilt in her emerald eyes. “As more and more people worship us as gods, the prison grows weaker. Maryām told me that you would kill Lilith, and that would be the final straw. Lucifer would be free.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Free to wreak havoc on this world. Because of us. And it won’t just be the Devil. All the demons will be unleashed.

I could see looks of stunned disbelief on the sluts’ faces. They didn’t want to believe their masters would cause such a problem. Hell, I didn’t believe we could cause such a problem. “Are you saying that I’m causing the end of the world?”

“We are,” Mary corrected. “I’m just as culpable, Mark. You may have led, but I’ve willingly followed you.”

“Then why are we making people worship us?” I asked her. “And trying to rule the world, Mare? Shouldn’t we be telling people to stop worshiping us?” Could I really give that up though. That wonderful high as a thousand people cry out your name in worship?

“Maryām told me that the prison was weak enough. Getting more people to worship us isn’t going to change that? But if we unite the world, we might have the power to challenge the demons if they get out.” She swallowed. “And a confrontation with Lilith is inevitable.”

“It is interesting that killing Lilith is the trigger,” Sam said.

“What?” I asked her.

“Well, she was the first woman created, made of the dust of the earth just like Adam,” Sam explained. “She was the first Warlock. The first human soul condemned to the Abyss. She grew powerful after all those millennia imprisoned. Her death, her blood, would be very powerful. She is a mix of both worlds now.”

“So we don’t kill Lilith,” Violet said. “If she lives, Lucifer cannot be summoned.”

“That’s great!” Xiu exclaimed, her heavy tits jiggling. “We just have to capture her.”

It couldn’t be that simple, right?

“Capture Lilith?” Lillian snorted with derision. “Yeah, that’ll be easy.”

Violet blushed and looked down. Mary glared at Lillian. “You don’t need to talk to your fellow slut that way,” my wife snapped. “Tonight, you will report to me for your spanking.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lillian answered, looking contrite, but a small smile played on her lips. Xiu wasn’t the only slut that enjoyed Mary’s spankings. “I’m sorry, Violet. Do you still love me?”

Violet rolled her eyes as Lillian fluttered her eyelashes at her. “I do.”

“So, how do we capture her?” Willow asked.

“Isn’t that what the Legion is for?” Jessica asked. “We know she’s in Seattle. Let’s send in the troops. They’re supposed to be gifted with certain advantages in fighting monsters because of the Ragily bond.”

“But what if something goes wrong,” Mary objected. “What if she accidentally gets killed?”

“Do we have an alternative, mi Reina?”

“No,” Mary stated. “But the Mother Superior hinted that there was a way to trap Lucifer when he first crosses over. She said the answer lies in Qumran.”

“What’s Kumrum?” April asked. “It sounds like a drink.”

“A dirty drink,” Lillian giggled. “Cum-rum. Mmh, sounds delicious!” Lillian threw her arm around April’s shoulder. “Me, you, and your cute girlfriend should find a hunky guy and give it try.”

April flushed, glancing at Violet, who shifted nervously. April has a girlfriend? Who was she? “We’re pregnant, Lillian,” April pointed out.

“Right,” Lillian sheepishly grinned. “So I’ll enjoy the rum and you can enjoy the cum!”

“Sure,” April sighed.

“We’ll have so much fun!” Lillian declared.

“Khirbet Qumran,” Sam interrupted testily, “is a series of caves in the West Bank where the dead sea scrolls were found. Many of the texts predate the New Testament and not all have been released to the public. The traditional view is that they were penned and stored by the Essenes, who…”

“Yeah, that’s what the Mother Superior said,” Mary interrupted before Sam could get into one of her long lectures. “The Creator safeguarded the knowledge at Qumran.”

Candy sighed and looked at Sam. “I guess we have more traveling to do. Hopefully, no monster will try and eat us this time!” There was a bitter, almost accusatory tone to her voice; Sam shot her a warning look.

“We’ll send you some protection,” I reassured her. We should have given them a few of the bodyguards on their first mission, but Mary thought keeping it low-key would let them fly under the radar. “It’ll take a few days to arrange things with the Israelis. Right, that’s where Qumran is?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, the West Bank. Though the scrolls are housed at the Museum of Jerusalem in a specially created…”

“So we need to capture Lilith, and quickly,” I said, heading off her long-winded explanation. “Hell, if we can capture her and lock her up somewhere, we can avoid the entire problem.”

“It’s bold, I like it,” Alison smiled. “She killed Karen, I say we lock the bitch up in a tiny cell for the rest of her life!”

“You could pierce her nipples, attach a leash to the piercings, and walk her like a dog,” Xiu sighed, tugging at her own nipple piercings. I had a feeling that’s something Xiu would like.

“That’s how you broke Karen, Master,” Korina nodded. “Shove that dog-tailed butt plug up her ass, and treat her like the bitch she is!”

“That would be very satisfying to see, mi Rey!”

“I would love to watch Mistress spank her bottom,” Jessica added. “I love watching you paddle a naughty slut’s ass and make it glow red.”

“Make that ass black and blue,” Lillian laughed. “Don’t go easy on her! And we should piss on her! Make her sleep in the puddle like the piece of filth she is!”

“No! We should tie her up and let the entire Legion fuck her cunt!” Violet declared with more force than I’ve ever heard the shy girl use. “She hates men; I say, let every man in the world fuck her! For Karen!”

Tears glistened on Violet’s face and everyone fell silent, remembering our short time with Karen. April reached over and grabbed Violet’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze. Once Karen had submitted to us, she had been a perfect, loving slut. And it was my fault she was dead. I didn’t hesitate to give her to Lilith.

I learned the hard way to never trust a demon. My hand hurt, and I unclenched my fist to see bloody nail marks in my palm. One day, I would make Lilith pay for Karen.

“It’s risky, Mark,” Mary said, breaking the silence.

“Well, it needs to be done. She’s already sent the Dimme to kill me and the Alukah to kill Sam. She needs to be dealt with.” Fear gripped me; what if she sends her next monster after you, Mary? I couldn’t risk that. Lilith had to be neutralized.

“Seattle is her base of support,” Willow said. “What if we took that away from her?”

“I bet that Lamia woman we’ve seen with the Mayor of Seattle is her,” Jessica interjected. “Think about it; he’s gay and then this absolutely gorgeous woman appears, and he falls for her. I feel like this is Lilith.”

“We definitely need the Legion,” Korina said. “Master, you are powerful, but you’ll need soldiers to occupy the city.”

“Aren’t we moving too quickly?” Mary objected. “We haven’t learned how to deal with Lucifer if something goes wrong.”

“That could take a while,” Sam responded. “I mean, there is a lot of material found at Qumran. Some of it hasn’t even been made public. It could take me months to sift through it.”

“Then we should wait months,” Mary concluded.

I frowned at my wife. “But Lilith is already causing problems. We need to go into Seattle, and at least find where she’s keeping those monstrous daughters of hers.”

“How, Master?” Jessica asked. “We summoned Karen, and she couldn’t help us. Lilith has her location warded somehow.”

Xiu snapped her fingers; realization had a smile playing on her lips. “I bet the answers are in city hall. She needs to control the mayor for some reason. I bet there are city records that could point to where they’re hiding. They probably need a big building.”

“Of course. The City owns hundreds of buildings.” Jessica’s caramel face shown with excitement.

“Right!” April exclaimed. “And the government keeps records on everything!”

“Let’s send the Legion in and flush the bitch out!” Alison exclaimed. “She tried to kill Master.”

Next to Alison, Desiree pounded her fist on the table. “Let’s exterminate her entire verminous brood.”

“Sounds great, I say we do that.” I looked at my wife. “We’ll capture Lilith, and put down her foul children.”

“It’s too risky,” Mary objected, heat in her voice. “You’re being brash, Mark. The stakes are too high to afford a mistake.”

“We’ll be careful,” I told her, taken aback by her objections. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s just…” she trailed-off, a helpless look on her face.

“You just don’t think I can do this?” A bitter feeling spread through my stomach.

“It just too important to take chances. Please Mark, reconsider.”

“She tried to kill me,” I pointed out, my anger bubbling back up. Why couldn’t she see how simple this was? “She killed Karen, and you just want to let her live. Don’t you care?”

She slammed her hand down on the table and glared at me. “Of course I care! I loved Karen just as much as you did! She was ours, and that bitch took her away! But the World, Mark. All those lives. What if something goes wrong?”

“That’s why we’ll be careful. But we have to do this. She’s growing too powerful. It may be too hard to dislodge her in a few months.”

“I say we wait,” Mary stubbornly said. “It’s stupid to rush this.”

“So I’m being stupid?” I demanded, frustrated with my wife. Why was she being so blind? Lilith needed to be neutralized as soon as possible.

“I didn’t say that, Mark,” she spat. “But you’re being a pigheaded fool!”

I grit my teeth. “Now what?”

“Let’s vote,” she declared. “Everyone give your honest opinion. Who says we wait?”

Jessica quickly shot her hand up, and gave me a guilty glance. Sam and Willow’s hands joined her. Sam looked at Candy and gaped that her toy had a different opinion. “That Alukah almost killed us both,” Candy answered. “I’m with Alison and Desiree! Let’s capture the bitch and piss on her and stuff her in a cage!” Violet chewed on her lip, glancing back and forth between Mary and me, then raised her hand, not looking at me.

Counting Mary, five wanted to wait. The remaining eight of us wanted to attack. “I guess I’m not the only pigheaded fool here, Mary,” I retorted. I knew it was going too far as soon as I said it; Mary flinched in hurt anger.

“Fine,” she said flatly, tossed her auburn hair and stalked away. “It’s only the World!”

“Wait, Mistress,” Jessica said, and followed Mary out the door.

Everyone else sat with stunned silence. I knew I should go after her. I really should. Frustration and exhaustion seethed within me though. “Close the door,” I barked. Xiu scurried to close the door and sat down.

“We…um… should get General Brooks in here,” Xiu suggested uncomfortably. General Brooks commanded the Legion, the 10,000 soldiers bound to me by the Ragily prayer.

I nodded my head. “This afternoon. Is there anything else?”

Sam shifted in her seat. “Well, um, there is the matter of tracking Warlocks. But, maybe we should wait on Mary?”

“No,” I said, still seething. I really should go after her and apologize. Even if I was right.

Candy pulled a few items from a bag: a map of the USA that she spread over the table, a few small weights to keep the map unfurled, and a plumb bob, a pointed weight dangling from a white string. She held it above the map by the end of the string, the pointed weight swaying lazily. She flicked her wrist, and sent the plumb bob spinning at the end of the string, the metal point hovering just above the map as it swung in a circle.

“Candy is concentrating on Warlocks,” Sam explained. “The bob is enchanted with a divining spell.” Suddenly Candy let go of the bob and it stuck into the map of the US right on the city of Paris, Texas. “See, she’s detected the Ghost of Paris,” Sam explained. Candy took up the plumb bob and sent it spinning again. “This is an old dowsing technique to find water and wells. I modified it to detect the resonance of a Warlock’s soul. As you know, souls have different resonances, which you and Mary perceive as colors. Silver for a normal person, Gold for a Nun, Black for a Thrall, Red for a Warlock, etc.”

The plumb bob came down in Philadelphia. Then St. Paul, San Francisco, Tulsa, Sioux Falls, Charleston, Tallahassee, El Paso, Memphis. Dozens more cities. And not just in the US. Sometimes the bob fell in Canada or Mexico. Once it fell on Cuba.

“We need to do something about this,” I said in stunned horror. She kept finding more and more, Violet writing each down on a notepad. And this was just North America.

“Let me and Desiree take care of this, Master,” Alison volunteered. “Give us a couple of platoons of special forces from the Legion and we’ll start hunting them down. Most can’t be that dangerous. We’ll call for Mistress if they have people bound with the Zimmah spell.”

“Please, mi Rey?” There was anger and pain in Desiree’s brown eyes. “We need to do this. Warlocks are filthy beasts that need to be put down.”

Alison nodded vigorously. “We’ll make them all pay, Master!”

I chewed my lip. Mary should be present for the decision. I almost said yes anyways, but my anger had faded enough. “I’ll discuss it with Mary.”

“Thank you, mi Rey,” Desiree said, hatred shining in her eyes. Ever since Brandon had raped her, she’s had a fierce hatred of Warlocks, and Alison seemed to burn with an even more intense fury than her wife.

“Let’s call it a wrap,” I yawned. “I think we all could use some sleep.”

Upstairs, the bodyguards wouldn’t let me into my suite. “Mistress said not to,” she apologized.

“Out of the way,” I ordered and they froze. Conflicting orders would do that. I sighed and rescinded my command.

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

Mary Glassner

I was furious at Mark.

It was bad enough that he wouldn’t listen to sense, but to taunt me at the end? I wanted to scream in frustration. Couldn’t he see how dangerous this was? The World was at stake! We had to go slow! We had to be careful! I stalked to the elevator, and jabbed the up button.

“Come on!” I snarled at the elevator, mashing the button in the vain hope that it would make the damned thing move faster.

“Mistress,” Jessica said as she stepped up next to me.

“What?” I wearily asked. On top of my anger, I was tired. I only had a few hours of sleep, and spending all day healing was exhausting.

“You look tense, Mistress. I could give you a massage.”

I glanced at Jessica, a caring smile on her caramel face. I reached out and stroked her honey-brown hair. She was so beautiful, exotic. Her mix of racial heritage gave her such unusual features. “I think I’d like that.”

We rode up the elevator in silence and I gazed at her. She was naked. Well, almost naked. She wore a gold choker with her name written with sapphires. Her breasts were small, full, with brown nipples. My eyes followed the line of her side down to her shapely hips, smooth thighs, and gorgeous calves.

The elevator dinged; we had reached the top floor where our suite was. Two bodyguards saluted me. “Do not let Mark in,” I ordered them. “He’s in the doghouse.”

“I…um…yes, ma’am,” the Black bodyguard stammered.

They opened the door to the suite. I led Jessica through the main room, to our bedroom. Once inside, I stretched, walked to my dresser, and opened my jewelry box. I took off my silver locket, diamond stud earrings, and a ruby bracelet, leaving only my bronze amulet and wedding ring on. Jessica unzipped my dress and I let it fall to the floor. I looked down at my belly, and stroked my baby bump; my mood improved a bit thinking about my unborn child.

“Shall I start, Mistress?” Jessica asked, returning from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil in her hand.

“Hmm?” I asked, frowning at her. “Oh, right, the massage.”

Yawning, I walked to the bed and laid down on my belly. The mattress dipped as Jessica crawled onto it. She straddled my legs, right below my butt. I jumped and shrieked as the cold baby oil dripped onto my back.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

Her fingers kneaded the muscles of my neck and shoulders, driving the tension away with her gentle, yet firm, pressure. I sighed, closing my eyes and enjoying her touch. Her thumbs pressed into the my flesh, moving in slow circles, driving all the anger at Mark away, and I let myself drift into contentment.

She worked lower and lower, hands flanking my spine. Her body shifted down my legs as she worked closer to my buttocks. Her hair tickled as it brushed my plump butt as her fingers rubbed the strain out of my lower back—the pregnancy was starting to give me backaches. Her lips were cool as she placed a kiss on my right butt-cheek before her oily hands slid down and gave each globe a good squeeze. Her fingers dipped into my crack, brushing my asshole and teasing me under the guise of her massage.

With firm pressure, she rubbed down my right leg, working my thigh and calf. Lifting my foot up, her tongue teased my toes and shivers of pleasure ran up my leg to moisten my pussy. My breath quickened, and soft sighs escaped my lips as her tongue explored my toes and her fingers massaged my foot.

After repeating her wonderful service on my left leg, she told me to roll over. I could see the desire in her deep, brown eyes. “So beautiful,” she whispered, running her hand across my pregnant stomach, between my breasts, and up to my neck. Her hair brushed my cheek as she knelt above me, her breasts hanging down, her nipples inches from brushing my flesh.

Her kiss was gentle at first, lightly nibbling on my lower lip. I turned my head, sliding my tongue out to brush her lips, to taste her sweetness. As my tongue invaded her mouth, our lust grew, and Jessica settled her weight upon me. Our nipples kissed, two hard nubs striking against each other like flint on steel, and sparks of pleasure ignited the passion inside me. I wasn’t so pregnant that I had to worry about someone being on top of me. My hands stroked her back, down to her firm ass, pulling her between my spread legs, until our pussies touched and electricity sparked between us.

Her ass flexed beneath my hands, pushing her clit up through my slit and nudging my pearl. Again and again her ass flexed; every kiss of her clit on mine brought a burst of passion inside me. Her fingers stroked my cheeks as she kissed me harder, fiercer. Our hips found a rhythm, fucking each other slowly, savoring the pleasure.

I had to be on top. I held her tightly, and rolled us over. Her thighs parted and I settled my cunt against hers. Sitting up on my elbows, our nipples just brushing, I writhed my hips, driving my clit through her pussy. A moan, low and throaty, escaped her lips. Her hands rubbed up and down my back and sides, trailing fire wherever she touched.

“Yes,” she purred. “Pleasure me, Mistress! Your beautiful pussy feels like wet silk!”

My hips moved faster. Memories of the afternoon when I had a cock flooded my mind. This would feel so much better if I had dick; a hard shaft plunging in and out of her velvet-wet cunt. That glorious ache, that need to spill my seed, building in my loins. I loved being a woman, I loved the powerful, encompassing orgasms that filled my entire groin. But that urgent need of a man, the way all the pleasure built up at one point—the head of your cock. Building and building until it erupted out of you had been a wonderful feeling. I understood just how desperate a guy could get to fuck a woman.

“Fuck me!” Jessica panted. “Yes, yes! I love it! Make me cum, Mistress!”

I could do it. I just had to bring us both to orgasm while tribbing her. I just had to utter Shophkah as we both shudder in ecstasy. I would gain my very own cock I could summon or dismiss at will.

What about Mark?

I rubbed faster against Jessica. I burned to have a cock. I didn’t care if he would find it disgusting, find me disgusting. I needed to have it. I really ground into her, ignoring the objecting voice in my mind. After Mark’s petty comment, it would serve him right. The anger fueled my hips; I growled like an animal, slamming my cunt into hers, not caring if I was bruising her, bruising me. I had to cum, I had to have my cock.

Mare, I’m sorry, Mark’s thought suddenly filled my mind.

I ignored him, and kept tribbing Jessica. I was almost there, almost to the pinnacle of my passion. “Cum with me,” I growled like a hungry tiger at Jessica. “Cum my little slut! I want to feel your cunt flooding me with your passion.”

It was stupid of me to taunt you. I was just frustrated. It seemed so clear what we should do and I was surprised you didn’t see it! C’mon, talk to me.

I was about to cum, about to have my cock. Jessica convulsed beneath me, her orgasm writhing through her. I drew my clit back, rubbed it up her slit, up to her little button. I nudged our pearls together, and the passion exploded throughout my body.

I opened my mouth to say that one word that would change everything.

I love you, Mare. I could feel the depth of his love, the depth of his guilt, in his thought.

I couldn’t jeopardize that just for the thrill of having a cock.

I collapsed atop Jessica, shaking as my orgasm quaked through me. Breathing heavily, I rolled off of her, staring up at the ceiling. God, what did I almost do? Is this why Lilith told us about the Magicks of the Witch of Endor? One last trap? One last temptation for me?

Let’s talk, I sent back. I’m in our bedroom.

The…um…guards won’t let me in. I don’t want to, you know, hurt them.

Jessica glanced at me with a contented smile on her face. “Mark’s outside the suite; tell the bodyguards to let him in, then you can go.”

“At once, Mistress.”

Mark entered the room looking as contrite as a young boy about to be scolded. He walked over to the bed and knelt down, grasping my arm. I almost pulled away from him; I was still just a little angry at him.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you or taunted you,” Mark admitted. “Lilith scares me. I’m afraid she’s going to hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.” There were tears in his eyes. “I would do anything to protect you, risk anything.”

My heart softened; I grasped his face, pulled him down, and kissed him. “I forgive you.”

He relaxed, tension melting out of his shoulders and face, and I pulled him up into bed with me; we hugged. “I really think we need to neutralize her power. And kill her daughters. I’m not sure we can wait that long.”

He was right. I sighed, “I know.”

“We’ll be careful, move slowly. Take no risks.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here,” I reminded him. I snuggled closer to him. I opened my mouth, wanting to tell him about my desire, then snapped it shut. I could still remember the disgust in his eyes the first time he saw Lilith conjure her cock, and the relief he felt when I lied and said I wasn’t interested.

“What?” he asked, a little wary.

“Nothing,” I sighed.

He pressed, stroking my cheek. “What, Mare?”

I bit my lip, took a deep breath. “I was thinking about the day Lilith gave me a cock.”

Mark stiffened for a moment. “Okay,” he carefully said. I could feel the tension ratcheting his body tight.

“Sometimes…” I took a deep breath. “Sometimes I think about having one again.”

He looked at me, his mind whirling. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“It would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s kinda hot watching Sam, but…”

“It’s weird.”

He nodded. “If it’s something you really want… I guess I could adjust.”

I smiled at him. “No, it’s not something I really want. I just think about it sometimes.”

He relaxed. “I would still love you,” he whispered. “Nothing could change that.”

But would you still desire me? I didn’t want to find out. “Kiss me,” I told him, my hand reaching down to stroke his cock.

He hesitated until my thumb brushed the head of his cock, and then his lips glued to mine and I lost myself in the the feel of his lips, the scratch of his whiskers, his musk. Why ruin this? I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him on top of me. I may have wanted to be on top when tribbing Jessica, but it was so much more pleasant to be on the bottom to get fucked by Mark, feeling his comforting weight on top of me.

I would have to enjoy this as much as possible. Once my belly grew too big, we’d have to find other positions to use to make love.

My legs parted, and I guided him into me. Glorious pleasure coursed through me as his cock sank into my wet depths. My nipples rubbed on his muscular chest as he gently made love to me. His cock drove away my dark fantasy as it pumped inside me. How could I want my own dick when I enjoyed Mark’s filling me up so damned much?

I slid a hand down to his ass, gave him a squeeze. My husband picked up the pace. My hips rotated, driving up to meet his thrusts. His hand caressed my thigh, moving up to brush my baby bump, then I sighed as he found my breast; his fingers tenderly played with my nipple. The pleasure radiated out, mingled with the fire burning in my cunt.

My orgasm was long, gentle, and I shuddered as my husband kept spearing me. I moaned into his lips, and savored the power of his thrusts. His strokes grew harder, churning me up as his pleasure mounted. I couldn’t wait to feel his cum filling me. Another orgasm quickly built within me as my clit mashed into his groin, sparking pleasure throughout my body.

His butt flexed beneath my hand as I inched my fingers down his crack. I found his asshole, teased it gently. His thrusts grew more urgent as I slipped a finger inside his ass, questing for his prostrate. I found it, massaged, and Mark slammed hard into my cunt, his body going rigid above me; I reveled in that fantastic feeling of his cum squirting into me. My pussy clamped down on his cock as my second orgasm exploded hard through me.

“Umm, that was delicious,” I purred, nuzzling his neck.

“I love you,” he whispered, rolling off me.

I smiled, snuggling into him. “Will you hold me while I sleep? I don’t want to have any nightmares, my love.” I placed my head on his chest, taking comfort from his heartbeat, his breathing.

His strong arms wrapped around me, holding me, protecting me.

Loving me.

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

Monday, November 11th, 2013 – Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA

It was eerie watching Predator drone footage of Seattle. It was IR, white on black, and all the people seemed black smears against bright streets. A green box was centered on one woman – Lamia, who appeared to be controlling the Mayor of Seattle, Craig Erikson, for the last two months – walking into a dilapidated warehouse in the industrial part of Seattle near the port.

To think finding Lilith would be so simple. The warehouse was warded with spells, and Lamia took a circuitous route to it, checking carefully for tails. All it took to follow her was a remotely piloted aircraft orbiting high above Seattle, almost impossible to spot with the naked eye. It didn’t matter how careful she was, the drone had her in its sight, the software on board capable of recognizing her face and tracking her across the entire city.

Lamia, a beautiful, otherworldly beauty. We were pretty sure she was Lilith.

“We’ve seen her go to this warehouse twice, my Lord,” Colonel Abbey, the G3, or operations officer, for the Legion stated. “We’ve parked a drone over the warehouse, and women have been streaming in and out of it all weekend. There are sentries posted on the roof, and others guarding the entrances. We didn’t see any weapons in evidence.”

“They’ll be Lilith’s daughters,” Sam supplied. “They are weapons. All of them will be extremely dangerous. Even with the Legion’s blessings from Mark, your men will have a tough battle.”

“My men can handle it,” General Brooks, the commander of my Legion, stated with confidence.

We were all seated in the Matmown. Mary and I, our sluts and advisers, and General Brooks and his staff, watching a TV that had been set up. Because the room was made of iron, radio signals inside here were spotty at best. No wires could be run through the walls for fear of compromising the integrity of the room, so we couldn’t watch any live Predator drone feeds. The TV itself was powered off a ‘Baghdad Battery’ as Sam dubbed her latest invention she had created over the weekend. It put out the power of a small generator, without filling the room up with carbon monoxide and killing us all.

It was also a lot quieter than a generator. Which was a blessing given that we were in an iron box.

“Is your plan ready, General?” I asked.

“Yes, my Lord. Colonel.” The General motioned to Abbey.

Colonel Abbey rolled out a map, quickly unfurling it. He placed weights on the corners to hold it down. It was a detailed map of King County, and there were numerous markings and lines drawn around the city of Seattle that seemed to indicate troop movements. And ship movements. There were markings in the Puget Sound and Lake Washington. The City of Seattle sat on an isthmus with Puget Sound and Elliot Bay on its west side and Lake Washington on its east side.

He ran through the plan in a few minutes. It was really simple. Units would be deployed to cut off Seattle along Highway 405 in the south and Highway 104 in the north. Other units would guard the two floating bridges that crossed Lake Washington while the Navy would blockade the Port of Seattle. Other units would occupy the city itself, taking key points: the Mayor’s house, City Hall, Seattle P.D. precincts, and the warehouse.

“Make sure your men know whom they’re shooting at,” I ordered. “Lilith must not be killed. Any extraordinarily beautiful women should be captured, no matter the cost.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Colonel Abbey nodded.

I glanced at Mary; I could tell she still wasn’t happy about attacking so early, but she nodded her head. “How soon can we attack? Tonight?” I asked.

“We’re ready for that, my Lord,” General Brook answered.

“Won’t Lilith spot the troops getting ready?” Jessica asked.

“We’ve been doing training operations,” Colonel Abbey responded, “to mask our readiness preparations. The planning itself was done in the HP, and our officers will be briefed this afternoon in it.”

“HP?” I asked.

“It’s what the military call a Matmown. You know, ‘hidden place’, HP.” Sam explained. When building the Matmown in our hotel room, Sam had duplicate metal panels made, just in case. The extras were used to assemble one at I Corp headquarters on JBLM.

A smile creased General Brooks grizzled face. “We do love our acronyms.”

“Who is going to govern Seattle once Mayor Erikson is removed?” Xiu asked.

“Someone we can trust,” I put in.

“How about Jessica,” Korina suggested. “She knows Seattle, and has contacts from her days as a reporter.”

Lillian grinned. “She’s the best slut for the job.”

“I’ll do it, Master,” Jessica nodded.

I looked at her. “You sure? It will be dangerous.”

“Korina is right, I do know the city.”

“Give her a group of soldiers to guard her,” Mary said.

“A platoon of Rangers?” Colonel Abbey suggested.

“Do it,” Mary commanded.

I looked at Sam. “Is your trip all arranged?”

“Yeah, the Prime Ministers of Israel has been very helpful in arranging things with the Museum of Jerusalem. Candy and I’ll leave tomorrow around noon.”

“With that platoon of soldiers you promised,” Candy interjected.

I nodded. “It’s all taken care of.”

“Is there any other business?” Mary asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” Alison interjected. “Desiree and I have selected our first Warlocks to track down.”

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

Tuesday, November 12th, 2013 – Lilith – Seattle, WA

The damned soldiers were continuing their exercises past midnight.

I watched the bustle of activity at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, hoping to find some clue to Mark and Mary’s plan. They spent the weekend doing drills. And spent all day today showing no sign of stopping. Their damned military was always training! How could I tell if they were mobilizing to attack me, or doing another stupid exercise?

This was pointless! No army could attack at night! So I gave up watching for the day and retired to my body. I was stiff when I returned to myself. I had spent hours in the Shadows watching today, and my body protested at the inactivity. I stretched, pushing away from my desk, and walked out of my office in the warehouse.

At least Mark couldn’t know about this place. It was carefully prepared with spells to keep out his ghosts. The protections weren’t as powerful as a Matmown, but they would keep Mark from using necromancy to find us.

“My Goddess,” Chantelle yawned, rubbing her eyes as she stood up from the secretary’s chair.

“Has Lamia returned?” I asked. Lamia was my favorite daughter, the most beautiful and enchanting of all of them.

“Yes, my Goddess,” Chantelle murmured. “She awaits in your bedchamber.”

“And that foolish man is being watched?” I could see the hint of annoyance in Chantelle’s eyes. I asked this question every time Lamia was away from the mayor of Seattle. I didn’t want any sloppy mistakes.

“Fiona is watching him, my Goddess.”

“Good, good, you may retire for the night.”

Chantelle bowed, smiling. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure your wife will take care of that,” I said as I swept past. I could smell Chantelle’s lust, and feel her cock harden as she summoned it.

I walked through the halls; even this late at night it bustled with activity. My daughters bowed to me: Lani, barely visible as she crouched in the shadowed corner; Basu’s forked tongue flickering out with affection; Agas, her left eye bulging yellow; the air about Haka alive with static energy; gaunt Vera, who looked on death’s door; beautiful Jeh, almost as beautiful as Lamia, almost; Tir’s tawny hair, nestled with black, vulture feathers; and many more. Their mothers fell to their knees as I passed. I paid them no heed. They birthed my children; I had no further use for most of them.

Young Crystal, the daughter of Babylon, knelt before my bedroom door. She was my chambermaid for the night, and she carefully removed all my jewelry, then gently undressed me, and finally combed my silvery hair. All the while, Lamia stretched out in my bed, her ripe breasts rising from her supine form. She toyed with her purple hair, her legs parted just enough to hint at the promise of her pussy—teasing me.

I rose, summoning my cock and Lamia’s eyes fell hungrily on it. “Umm, is that for me, Mother?”

It was my reward, how I controlled my daughters. They knew the ecstasy of my touch awaited them from the moment they were born—so long as they pleased me. And they would do anything to experience my embrace. They were as faithful as my other daughters, drowned Eons ago when the the Creator unleashed his Flood. So much death, to wipe my progeny from the earth.

Lamia shuddered as I brushed her nipple with a finger. “Fuck me!” she begged. “I burn for you, Mother! Fuck me!”

I bent down and captured her nipple, sucking on it, and let my Lust ooze into her body. She bucked and writhed as orgasm after mind-numbing orgasm rolled through her. She was incoherent as I mounted her, and drove my cock into the ripe depths of her cunt. She felt wonderful. Lamia almost had my ecstatic touch, and her pussy felt divine, like heaven, on my hard cock.

Her cunt rippled on my cock as I savored her passion. I bent down, our round breasts touching, and I captured my daughter’s mouth in a sweet kiss. Lamia hugged me, raked her fingers down my back, the pain urging me to fuck her harder. She never stopped cumming. Her cunt was delight made flesh, my cock reveling in her moist depths.

I rose up, pulling her legs up and hooking her ankles over my shoulder. I pounded her hard, my breasts rising up and down. My ovaries frothed with passion, bursting with my seed. I slammed in again and again, watching my daughter’s breasts heave with her never-ending orgasm. One more time, and then that explosive release; my cum flooded her infertile womb.

“Mother,” Lamia finally gasped as I pulled out of her.

I was still hard. I rolled her over, spreading the cheeks of her ass. She was tight and rough and screamed her pleasure as I violated her bowels. I leaned over her, my breasts pillowing on her back, and fucked her hard. I could feel my weariness fade, my exhaustion wiped away by the ecstasy of sex.

I was Lilith. I did not need sleep. I just needed passion. Lust.

I grunted, my cum pouring into her tight ass. “Oh yes!” I purred. “Drink my lust!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” she gasped. “Oh, Mother, yes!”

Black seed leaked out of her ass when I pulled my cock out. Lamia spun about and engulfed my cock, sucking me into her warm mouth. I gripped her purple hair, and stared down at her mouth obscenely sucking my cock clean. I loved it! Reveled in how depraved it was as I fucked her face. Her fingers wormed into my cunt, duel sensations trembling through me.

“My wonderful daughter! Take it all!” I moaned, shoving my cock roughly down her throat, pressing her nose and lips into my silvery bush.

She moaned, cumming over and over as my Lust flooded her, deliciously vibrating my cock with her passion. Her fingers pumped faster and faster inside me, igniting a fire in my pussy that boiled my ovaries. I pulled my cock out, and sprayed black pitch on her heaving breasts. I admired my gorgeous daughter’s near perfect body – only falling short of perfection when compared to mine – covered in my seed, a radiant smile on her face. Her legs spread; more pitch oozed from her cunt. I mounted her, driving my cock into her sheath.

I fucked my daughter for hours. When she tired, I blessed Crystal with my ecstasy, until the mortal girl was near exhaustion, and then I pounced on my Lamia. I came in every hole she had, fucked her in every position known to woman. My seed oozed black out of her, and more of my pitch stained her skin in ropey strands.

“My Goddess,” a voice whispered urgently.

“What?” I asked, my cock buried in Lamia’s cunt again. Lana knelt beside my bed. When had she arrived?

“Mark’s soldiers are encircling the city, they…”

Zuzu’s loud, piercing screech filled the night from her perch on the roof.

“They are here,” I said calmly, despite my heart hammering in my chest. “You know what to do?”

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

Mark Glassner – Special Forces Compound, Joint Base Lewis-McChord

“I’m going, Mark,” my wife declared, her emerald eyes iron with determination.

“It’s not safe, Mare,” I objected. “You’re pregnant. Think about our child.”

“If you’re going, I’m going,” she firmly said. “If you die, so does our child, so it hardly matters.”

I threw my arms up in frustration. “The soldiers are going to need my abilities. They’ll be fighting Lilith’s daughters.”

“And that’s why I should be there! I’ve been practicing my magic.” She reached out and stroked my face. “Please. I can’t just sit here and wait. Not when you’ll be out there in danger.”

“But…”

“It’s settled,” she said, tossing her auburn ponytail. “I’m going, so just accept it.”

“Fine,” I sighed, not wanting another fight with her. “But you stay back.”

“I’ll be fine! I have this stab vest on.” A black vest that looked like a cop’s body armor covered her torso, stitched with angular symbols. “Sam says it’s as effective as your armor.”

“My armor covers more places,” I muttered.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” she said, and kissed me on the lips. “Besides, you’ll be there to protect me.” Then she whispered in my ear, “Last time I saw you fight, I got so excited! My pussy’s dripping just thinking about watching you fight. When we’re done, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

I felt my cock stir in my black fatigues. “Really?”

“Umm, you have no idea how hot you were when you fought Molech,” she purred.

There was a knock on the door. “Sir,” 51’s voice muffled voice said through the door, “General Brooks says it’s time.”

“Summon your armor,” Mary smiled. “Look impressive for your troops.”

The gold armor materialized out of thin air, settling about my body. Outside, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 75th Rangers Regiment stood assembled in their battle dress, floodlights illuminating the parade ground. The soldiers looked bulky in their khaki uniforms, body armor, helmets, night vision goggles, belts festooned with grenades, ammo clips, and rifles slung across their chests. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly four AM.

By now the 3rd Combat Brigade (Stryker) would have Seattle surrounded, and would start taking strategic sites in the city by 0430 hours. The other companies of the 2/75 Rangers would be deployed by Black Hawk helicopters at the same time around the city, capturing key locations.

The rangers saluted sharply as I approached the podium. I was nervous, not sure what I should say. “Men!” I shouted. “A grave threat has been festering in the city of Seattle. The demoness Lilith has nested there, birthing a brood of foul monsters. They are stronger than a normal human, faster, with lethal abilities that only your darkest nightmares could birth.

“But do not fear! This is why you swore your service, your honor, and your fidelity to me. I have gifted you with weapons that can hurt these abominations, gifted you with greater strength and reflexes. Tonight, we shall crush Lilith’s monsters, capture the foul bitch, and free the people of Seattle, my people, from her bondage!

“This is America, not some demon’s playpen!” Only a false God’s, I thought, suppressing a stab of guilt. It’s for the greater good.

A cheer went up from the soldiers, and someone shouted, “Rangers lead the way!” and the entire company shouted back, “All the way! Hooah!”

I pulled out my bronze knife and stabbed it into thin air, muttering, “Pasaq!” The tip of the knife seemed to disappear as it sank into the veil between life and death, and I drew a portal to the Shadows. Next to me, Mary did the same thing. This spell wasn’t found in the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. We learned it from the Patriot that had tried to kill me in Washington D.C. last month. I had been disturbed to learn that there were at least three other books – grimoires as Sam called them – that had working spells in them that weren’t contained in the Magicks.

“Stay close!” I shouted, as the Rangers glanced hesitantly at each other, then poured through the portals.

It was misty on the other side. Chasity and the other dead bodyguards formed up around us. They were always lurking in the Shadows around Mary and me, protecting us from the Patriots. Three times, according to Chasity, they had sent their people into the Shadows to assassinate us.

Distances were different in the Shadows. After only fifteen minutes of marching through the never-ending, gray mists, we reached Seattle and the warehouse. The company knew their orders, splitting off into four groups, surrounding the warehouse. At 0430, we would assault.

It was surreal in the Shadows. The warehouse was as long as two football fields, yet the four groups were practically standing next to each other, waiting for Mary and me to draw the portals. Lieutenants and sergeants were surveying the scene, giving their men last minute instructions on the assault. There was a nervous energy in the air; everyone was unsettled by the swirling, gray mists and the ever-present chill.

My watch’s alarm went off.

I drew the southwest corner portal as Mary started the northeast. It was easier to draw the portal on this side. It took almost no effort. “Human’s don’t belong in the Shadows,” Sam had explained, “therefore it is easier to escape it then to enter it.” I moved to the southeast corner and drew the second portal, then raced to my wife at the northwest corner.

The first soldiers streamed through, weapons readied, and night vision goggles switched on. Mary pulled on a pair of enchanted sunglasses that would let her see as if it was noon. She looked fierce in her body armor, black fatigue pants, and dark sunglasses, with her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. Fierce and sexy. I pulled on my own pair of sunglasses. Sam did great work; I could see everything clearly as I followed the rangers through the portal, trailed by Mary.

A piercing screech filled the night.

For a moment, everything was silent, and then Lilith’s daughters attacked.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 44.

The Devil’s Pact Side-Story: Alison and Desiree Get Married

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Side-Story: Alison and Desiree Get Married

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female/Teen female, Male/Teen female, Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Mind Control, Romantic, Exhibitionism, Incest

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by

email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Note: This takes place in-between Chapter 32 and Chapter 33.



Friday, July 12th, 2013 – Alison Hertz – The Wedding

The day of my wedding to my Latin beauty, Desiree, had finally arrived.

After today, I would be Alison de la Fuente. After getting her marriage to Brandon annulled, Desiree went back to her maiden name. It was a far prettier name then Fitzsimmons. Desiree and I spent several nights talking in bed about our new last name. Should one of us take the other’s last name, like a heterosexual couple? Or would we hyphenate. And how did you hyphenate de le Fuente with Hertz? De le Fuente-Hertz or Hertz-de le Fuente? Both sounded ridiculous. In the end, I decided to take Desiree’s last name. De le Fuente was such a beautiful name, far more so than Hertz. Besides, Desiree did the proposing, so I liked to joke that made her the man in our relationship

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I walked downstairs, carrying my wedding clothes in a bag. Doubts clouded my mind. You shouldn’t marry her, my subconscious whispered. You should devote yourself to Master one hundred percent. She’s just a distraction. I knew it was just nerves, but these thoughts had been plaguing me since Desiree proposed.

I loved Desiree, and ignored my doubts. She was the greatest woman in the world. I loved Master and Mistress, but it paled compared to the strength of what I felt with Desiree. When we were apart, I missed her, ached for her.

Xiu was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a happy smile on her cute, Chinese face. She was dressed like me, in a terrycloth robe, her clothes in a bundle slung on her arm. Xiu was my maid of honor. Desiree had choosen Korina to be her maid of honor, or Desiree’s ‘best gal’, as I jokingly called her.

I was happy Xiu chose to stay with Master and Mistress. When Master healed her after the attack, she didn’t hesitate to declare her intention to stay as their slave. Master’s power worked so well it even healed her womb. When Xiu got shot, they had to remove her uterus, and the doctors had been astounded when they found out that it had regrown. Just one more miracle to add to all the others Master and Mistress were performing.

I missed Noel and Fiona and Thamina, but if they didn’t want to be sluts like the rest of us, that was their loss. I also missed Willow, and even Sam, though they just moved up the street. While neither were one of us special sluts anymore, they still served Master and Mistress in their own way. And it was really wild to let Sam fuck you with that cock she could conjure. But the one I really missed was Chasity. The house seemed a little emptier without her enthusiasm.

I felt a tear misting my eye, and I wiped it away. Chasity died protecting Mistress, while I just huddled in the house with the other sluts, too scared to do anything. But not Chasity, she was a warrior woman, a Valkyrie. The memory of her standing up, her blonde hair streaming behind her, as she made that last, desperate attempt to save Mistress, still haunted me. I liked to think Chasity was out there, watching over us in the great beyond, just waiting to appear and save the day at some crucial moment, like that old movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. The barbarian one. Dad always loved to watch it and, at the end, Arnold’s girl, who died earlier in the movie, appears in silver armor that shines with its own light, and saves him.

Xiu hooked her arm around mine. “Ohh, I’m so excited,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Which caused her large breasts to jiggle beneath her robe. Her breasts were as big as my Desiree, but on Xiu’s petite frame they seemed enormous. It was hard to feel sad when you were faced with such huge, swaying melons.

Arm-in-arm, we walked happily to the back of the house and out into the backyard. Sam was there with a few of the bodyguards. I jumped as strawberry-blonde 29 fired at a mannequin. The mannequin was all white and wore no clothes except for a metal necklace around its neck. 29’s round hit the mannequin and it toppled over in a spray of plastic.

“Darn,” Sam muttered. “I thought that would work.”

“Maybe the metals aren’t right?” Candy suggested. When Sam offered to be Master’s Vizier and advise him on magic, Sam’s price was Candy: a beautiful, young woman that dyed her hair half bubblegum-pink, just like me, and the other half cotton-candy blue. She was stretched out naked on a chaise lounge, tanning. She was short, but she had some nice curves that I greatly appreciated.

“Whacha doin’?” I asked Sam.

Her round, olive face was furrowed in thought. “A protection charm,” Sam answered. “There are some vague hints in the Book about enchanting amulets and charms; I’ve been experimenting. If I can get this to work, a simple necklace could give you the same protection as a bulletproof vest.”

“Wow!” Xiu cooed.

“Let’s try the B8 bronze, Candy,” Sam ordered as 29 went and stood up the mannequin.

I tugged on Xiu’s arm. “C’mon, we’ve got to get ready.”

“Sorry,” Xiu smiled apologetically as I led her to the back gate.

I opened it up, and nodded to 19 and 20 who were guarding the rear gate. It was a recent addition. Since the attack and the Miracle, the Church of the Living Gods – as the worshipers of Master and Mistress called themselves – had set up a large tent on the empty lot where our Masters are building their mansion. So it made sense to build the gate. Most of us sluts went to the nightly worship services. They were so much fun! All the worshipers saw us as disciples of their Gods, and treated us like we were royalty.

Plus the worship orgies were a blast!

Desiree and I decided to be married at the Living Church. Daisy Cunningham was going to perform the service. Daisy, and her twin sister Rose, despite being fifteen, had somehow become the heads of the church. They had been preaching Master’s message of free love the loudest, I guess. The tent was on the edge of the empty lot, close to Shaw Road. At the far end of the lot, the foundations for the mansion were being dug. Many of the worshipers volunteered their time in building the mansion, while others donated money or materials.

We passed the Miraclists, one of the names for members of the movement, who bowed at us. Most wore chokers, stainless steel or plastic or leather, and a few had theirs made with gold or silver. The chokers had phrases like: “Faithful” or “Love is the Way” or “My Gods Live,” and a half-a-hundred other phrases. They met most nights of the week, with the most attending the Wednesday night service.

I liked Friday Night worship the best; it was a smaller group. More intimate. Everyone came for Wednesday, of course; that was the day of the Miracle, after all. And on Thursdays, Master and Mistress healed the sick at Good Sam hospital, and the congregation would gather outside to pray. But on Friday, people had plans – excuses not to show up – and since it was the start of the weekend, the orgy often lasted far later into the night.

We passed more and more Miraclists as we approached the large, red tent. It was like a circus tent, rearing up high. Beth Philips was greeting worshipers as they filed in. There was supposed to be a short service, then my wedding. Everyone touched Beth’s belly as they entered. She claimed to be carrying Master’s child. Maybe she was; I remember the day Master fucked her in the bathroom of that car dealership. I was supposed to distract her husband, but he didn’t seem all that interested in me. The rumor was that Beth left him because he couldn’t satisfy her after Master fucked her.

Beth bowed to us, murmuring, “Holy Sluts.”

“Blessed Mother,” I murmured back.

It was amazing how, in the span of a few weeks, the trappings of religion were quickly springing up. ‘Blessed Mother’ was the title of any woman pregnant with Master’s child. Besides Beth, there was Vivian Anders, and Anastasia Milburn was a maybe. She was one of Mark’s jogging sluts, but her child could also be her husband’s. And, of course, Korina, Violet, and April were all carrying Master’s child, but they were ‘Holy Sluts’. Maybe they should be ‘Blessed Holy Mother Sluts’. Xiu looked at me as I giggled. It sounded more like a swear then a title.

“Blessed holy mother sluts!” I laughed, and Xiu’s look became more confused.

Inside the tent, they had made a vestibule out of curtains hanging from PVC pipes. There were a pair of antechambers off the vestibule, on the right and left, while going straight ahead would take you into the main worship pavilion. Xiu and I went into the room on the right to get changed, and to wait for the start of the ceremony. Desiree and Korina should already be in the room on the left.

Violet was waiting for them inside the room, and squealed, “I’m so happy!” The excited girl threw her arms around my face, and kissed me soundly on the lips. I enjoyed my sister-slut’s lips for a minute, before I broke the kiss. It wouldn’t do for us to get carried away.

Our terrycloth robes came off, and Xiu and I were both naked except for our chokers. I admired the curves on Xiu’s petite body: large breasts and dark nipples that were pierced by a silver bar from which dangled pink butterflies on silver chains. I knew from experience just how much she loved for someone to pull hard on those piercings. She practically came when she got them re-pierced. Mark had healed her a little too well after she got shot during the SWAT attack.

I opened my bag, and pulled out my wedding attire, a white merry widow, a type of corset, that cupped my round breasts with lace. The corset was low-cut, leaving my hard nipples – pierced with silver barbells – exposed. I gently rolled up a pair of white fishnet stockings, and hooked the merry widow’s garters to the stocking tops. Then came the white, stiletto heals. I wore no panties – that was against the edicts of the Church – and you could see my shaved cunt, and my tattoo that read, “Cum on in,” above an arrow that pointed down at my pussy.

I sat down in a chair and let Violet apply my makeup while Xiu pulled on a similar merry widow, although hers was a midnight blue. Outside, I could hear one of the Cunningham twins begin the nightly sermon, her soprano voice carrying through the tent. After my makeup was done, I applied a lovely perfume Mistress gave me; a dab on the wrists, behind my ears, and one dab right above my clit, and I was all set.

Violet held a mirror and I smiled. I looked hot. My bubblegum-pink hair fell in loose curls about my shoulders, framing my innocent-looking, teenage face. And the makeup gave me a hungry look which contrasted nicely with my innocent features. I looked like a slutty virgin, particularly in the white merry widow that was both virginal and whorish at the same time.

“You look beautiful,” Master said as he walked in.

I blushed, “Thank you, Master.”

He wore a simple, white shirt with blue, pinstripe lines, and a pair of black slacks. In his hands was a bouquet of red and dark-blue flowers. He handed them to me, and I smiled. He was walking me down the aisle. My father was here tonight, but he understood that a sex-slave should be given away by her Master. Or her Mistress, in Desiree’s case.

“It’s time,” Violet said, stepping back in.

Xiu smiled at me as we stepped out into the vestibule. Across the room, Desiree followed Korina out of the other antechamber and my breath caught. My Latin beauty looked to die for in her white merry widow. Her large, pillowy breasts cradled so perfectly amidst the lace of her bodice, her dark nipples erect and pointing right at me. I found my eyes sliding down her nut-brown skin to her gorgeous legs clad in white stockings, and her shaved pussy in-between sleek thighs. Next to her, Mistress was wearing a dark-blue dress, low-cut to show off her freckled breasts, and with a short skirt so her creamy, delicious thighs were exposed.

Xiu and Korina hooked their arms together and marched slowly down the aisle, reveling in the stares their exposed flesh brought from the congregation. I saw my dad look back, and I smiled shyly at him. Master had easily convinced my dad to let me be a sex-slave, and Dad had been supportive ever since. I fondly remembered the night a few weeks ago when Dad met Desiree for the first time. Master and Mistress were in New York for their Today Show interview, and we went to Dad’s place for dinner.

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

Sunday, June 30th, 2013

“This is Desiree,” I greeted Dad when he opened the door. “We’re getting married.”

Dad looked her up and down, and then he smiled and hugged her warmly. “How wonderful!” he exclaimed, and hugged Desiree tightly a second time. “Now I’ll have two daughters!”

My dad was always very supportive of me despite all the trouble I would get into. I had a very active id. There’s a cute boy, my subconscious would whisperer, Why don’t you go suck his cock. I bet his cum would taste delicious! I always listened to the voice; it’s how I met Master.

He’s fucking that girl behind the counter, my subconscious voice had whispered the day I met Master. I had grown wet instantly, watching my future Master fuck Lillian discretely at the cash register. It was so bold to do it right in the middle of Hot Topic. Wouldn’t it be fun to be fucked like that, in front of all these people? It would! My subconscious had never steered me wrong, so I had asked to be ‘trained’, too. Best decision I ever made!

So why did my id have a problem with me marrying Desiree? It’s not like I wasn’t going to fuck other people. It was a symbol of my love. Desiree was the most important person to me. Together we would serve Master and Mistress and share in debauchery.

You should only love Master, my subconscious answered. I chalked my doubts up to fear. Marrying Desiree was a very adult thing to do. Well, I wasn’t going to let fear stop me from having my happiness, so I ignored my id.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Desiree giggled, snapping me out of my thoughts, and threw her arms around my father. He was a handsome man, older, with distinguished, gray wings of hair at his temples. The pair looked so sexy together. “Your daughter is very important to me.”

“I never thought Alison would settle down,” Dad grinned. “She’s a wild one. I don’t think she ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Just ‘friends’ she would hang-out with.” I didn’t think Dad knew the truth about my ‘friends’. I had a lot of them. Ever since I lost my virginity at fourteen, I had been the biggest slut.

Dad and Desiree got along great, chatting the whole way through dinner. My Dad wasn’t a bad cook, but he was no Desiree; he made a pasta with this garlic and Parmesan sauce. After dinner, we retired to the living room; Desiree snuggled up on one side of Dad, and I took the other.

“So…um…how is it with your Master?” Dad asked, a little flustered as Desiree pressed her large breasts into his arm. She wore a low-cut blouse, and I saw Dad’s eyes kept drifting down her front. I couldn’t blame him; she had a magnificent rack.

“Things are great, Dad,” I purred. “Desiree and I just love being their sluts.”

“Umm, it is so much fun,” cooed Desiree with her sexy, Spanish accent.

“Is he really ‘special.’ You know, like people are saying?”

“Yes,” I answered, softly rubbing my dad’s thigh. “That’s why we’re his sex slaves. That’s why you didn’t have a problem with your teenage daughter submitting to some strange man’s lust. He has powers, Dad. They both do.”

He frowned, “I guess you’re right.” He jumped when my hand started rubbing at his cock. “What’re you doing, pumpkin?”

“Mark’s number one command is to love each other,” I purred. “Desiree and I want to show our love to you, Daddy.” I leaned back, thrusting out my chest, the t-shirt tightly hugging my boobs. “What does it say on my shirt?”

“Daddy’s little slut,” he read. It was the t-shirt I wore when I met Master. It was lucky.

“For tonight, I want that to be true.”

He started to protest, but Desiree captured his mouth with her lips, while I unzipped his pants. His cock was hard, despite his protests, and I bent my head down and sucked it into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the sensitive head, making sure my tongue stud rubbed against his cock. I tasted his salty pre-cum, and felt his dick twitch as he gave in to the pleasure.

It was wonderfully hard, twitching in my mouth. I reveled in the wickedness; this was my father’s cock I sucked. I loved it! Loved him. After Desiree, Master, and Mistress, Dad was the most important person to me. And now I was able show him just how much I loved him.

“That’s your daughter’s mouth sucking your cock,” purred Desiree in his ear. “Doesn’t she have a delicious tongue! I love feeling her tongue stud licking through the folds of my pussy.”

“This is so wrong,” Dad groaned, voice thick with passion.

“Relax, papá,” she cooed. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see that her full, nut-brown tits were freed. “You’ve been staring at my melons all night. Have a taste.”

Listening to my dad suck my fiancee’s tits while I blew his cock spurred me on. I grabbed his balls, massaging them. I wanted his cum so badly. I sucked harder, bobbing my head. I could feel how heavy his balls were; he probably hadn’t cum in days. Weeks. The poor guy. I needed to visit him a lot more often.

“I’m going to cum, Alison!” he shouted. “You have to stop!”

Fuck that! I sucked harder. He erupted, grunting as thick, salty spunk flooded my mouth. I swallowed the first shot and the second, but held his final shot in my mouth. I rose up, and captured Desiree’s lips in a kiss. I snowballed Dad’s cum into her mouth; he stared wide-eyed at us as we swapped his jizz back and forth like the playful sluts we were.

“Thank you, mi Sirenita,” Desiree sighed. “I love you so much.”

Joy always trembled in my heart when she said that. I kissed her again; her lips still salty with Dad’s jizz. Then I looked at my dad, his face all flushed and sweaty, and there was a dazed look in his eye. “Wasn’t that amazing, daddy? I loved your cum!”

“It was,” he whispered. He reached out and touched my face. “You look so much like your mother, pumpkin.”

It took a lot to make me blush—that did it.

“Let’s go to bed,” I said; we grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet.

His bedroom was pristine. The rest of the house was a bit of a disaster, but dad kept the room cleaned for some reason. Pictures of Mom adorned the room, always smiling beautifully. One picture was taken a few days before my birth. She look radiant, holding her pregnant belly and smiling at the camera. She wore a hospital gown, sitting in a wheelchair.

“She was beautiful,” Desiree whispered, putting her arm around my shoulder.

“This was taken right before she died,” I whispered back. “There was a complication with her pregnancy; she almost lost me. But she held on long enough for me to be born.”

“She loved you a lot,” Dad murmured, putting his arm around my other shoulder, sandwiching me between them.

I turned to Dad. Tears brimmed in his eyes. I kissed him. It was comforting at first. We both were feeling the grief of mother’s absence. Then my ardor grew. I turned, pressing my body against his, wiggling my tongue into his lips. I could feel his lust grow hard against my belly.

“We’re going to rock your world tonight,” I whispered in his ear.

He swallowed and nodded.

We stripped; Dad feasted on our nubile bodies with lustful gaze. Desiree stretched out on the bed; her legs spread, obscenely showing off her shaved, juicy pussy. I crawled between her thighs; the air thick with her spicy-tangy scent. I buried my face in her cunt, and feasted on my love.

“Oh yes!” she purred. “I love your tongue!”

I could feel my dad’s eyes on my ass, so I wiggled it invitingly.

“Isn’t she just gorgeous?” Desiree sighed. “She’s so horny! She needs a cock in her almost every hour of the day!”

I dug my tongue deep into her pussy, gathering as much of her tasty fluids as I could. Then I moved my lips up and engulfed her clit. She gasped, thighs tightening about my head as I nursed her pearl.

“Fuck her, papá!” she gasped. “Make her cum! Feel the embrace of your daughter’s cunt about your cock!”

The bedsprings squeaked as Dad knelt behind me. Strong hands gripped my hips; hard cock nudged my asscheeks. I moaned and trembled in anticipation. Watching Mistress fuck her father had made me so jealous. I wanted to experience that special kind of love with my dad.

His cock nudged my pussy. I burned to feel this depraved, taboo sex. “This is wrong, pumpkin,” he whispered as his dick rubbed up and down on my slippery lips, driving me wild with desire. “You’re my daughter.”

“Incest isn’t wrong anymore,” I answered. “Master says incest is okay. We shouldn’t be tied down by the morals of bygone days. People should be free to love whomever they want. So love me, Daddy.”

His will broke. “My beautiful pumpkin,” he grunted, then slammed into me.

I screamed my passion into Desiree’s cunt as he entered me. He filled me up, my pussy convulsing about him as I came and came and came.

It was as amazing as I had hoped!

“Oh, Alison!” he grunted. “My sweet, beautiful pumpkin!”

For a moment his cock was just buried to the hilt inside me, thick and wonderful, and then he fucked me. Hard. The slap of flesh filled the room, his strokes driving me into my fiancee’s cunt. He grunted and groaned, pounding me like a wildman.

“Oh yes! Your pussy! Holy shit! You feel amazing, Alison!”

I couldn’t stop cumming. My Dad was fucking me! Nothing was more taboo than this! And I was sharing this happy moment with the love of my life.

“Fuck her!” Desiree moaned. “Fuck the little whore! She’s your slut for the night! Daddy’s little slut! Cum in her! I want to eat your incestuous cum out of her cunt!”

Juices flooded my lips; she came. I held onto her hips as she bucked and gasped, big tits heaving in ecstasy. Then she collapsed, watching me through lidded eyes, a happy smile on her face. I gently lapped at her cunt, letting her pussy cool down.

“Oh, Daddy!” I gasped. “Fuck me harder! I need your cum! Flood my pussy! I’m your slut tonight, daddy!”

“My little slut!” he groaned. His strokes grew more frantic. “My little pumpkin’s grown up into a naughty slut!”

“Cum in me!” I gasped, another cum rolling through my body.

“You want your daddy’s cum?” he demanded.

“I do!”

He slammed into me and erupted. My pussy, still cumming, milked every last drop of my daddy’s cum. My knees gave out as my orgasm intensified and pleasure erupted through me; I collapsed into a ball on the bed, writhing in ecstasy.

Dad collapsed next to me, spooning me from behind. “I love you, pumpkin.”

I kissed him on the lips. “I love you, too, daddy.”

Desiree joined us and kissed me, too. I never felt more loved than I did right now.

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

The Wedding

Dad had been a stud that night. After Desiree went down on me, and cleaned out my pussy of all his cum, we had straddled him. Desiree rode his cock while I rode his mouth. Then we gave dad one of Sam’s magical Viagra – the first thing the slutty hermaphrodite had invented – and fucked Dad all night long. We spent the weekend at his house, making up for all our lost time.

I jumped when the music changed; the wedding march played, breaking me out of my daydream. The church’s band was playing, an eclectic collection of bongos, guitars, and a trombone. I was flushed and horny, my pussy damp, as I remembered that night. Desiree and I definitely needed to go to my dad’s for dinner again.

Korina and Xiu had already reached the alter, and it was Mistress and Desiree’s turn. Arm-in-arm, they marched slowly while the entire congregation watched with awe as their Goddess escorted my bride. My eyes alternated between Desiree’s plump and naked ass, and Mistress’s swaying rear beneath her tight skirt. Daisy waited at the altar, and blushed when Mistress leaned over and captured her pretty lips with a kiss.

Now it was my turn. Taking a deep breath, I hooked my arm around Master’s. I trembled. It’s not too late, my subconscious whispered. No. It was far too late. Desiree owned my heart. She stole it the day we met. My trembles stopped, and we walked stately towards my waiting bride.

As I passed Dad, he reached out and gripped my hand. I felt my eyes misting in joy and squeezed him back. He sat next to Issy Norup, one of Master’s former jogging sluts. I convinced Dad to come to the Church after that dinner and he hit it off with Issy, with a little nudge from me. The teenage girl looked happy leaning against my dad. He deserved some happiness; he had spent all his time trying to raise his out of control daughter – my mom had died giving birth to me – that he didn’t have time to find himself another woman.

“You are so beautiful, mi Sirenita,” Desiree whispered when I reached the altar.

I handed Xiu my bouquet and took my bride’s hands. I loved it when Desiree called me ‘Sirenita’. It meant little mermaid in Spanish. I glanced down at the engagement ring Desiree had given me, and the two mermaids engraved on the band, their arms forming the mounts for the sparkling diamond.

“You’re gorgeous,” I grinned back.

Daisy started her wedding sermon, saying how beautiful it was when two people decided to join their lives together. Urging us to love each other, and to put each other first before all others; to delight in each other’s bodies, and to share our deepest pleasures with our partner. “Our Gods are here, tonight, to bless this union,” Daisy preached.

I trembled as Master bent me over the altar. I was suddenly so nervous; I had fucked Master plenty of times, but this was different. This was my wedding day. Desiree bent over next to me, flashing me a smile as Mistress deftly slipped on a strap-on with a hot-pink dildo attached. I shivered in delight as Master caressed my ass, and I reached out to grab Desiree’s hand as I felt his hard cock nudging the lips of my pussy.

“Alison, you were our first slut,” Master said. “And I am so happy for you and Desiree.”

“Desiree, you were our second slut,” Mistress spoke. “I’ve seen how happy Alison makes you, and you have my blessing to marry her.”

I moaned as Master shoved his cock into my wet cunt. Desiree’s mouth widened in pleasure as Mistress fucked her dildo into Desiree’s pussy. “Oh, thank you, Master!” I gasped as he pounded my slutty cunt. “Umm, I love it when your cock’s inside me!”

“Fuck me, mi Reina,” Desiree panted. “Yes, yes! Ohh, yes! I love you! I love when you make me your whore!”

Master’s cock filled me up, stretching me with his girth as his cock reamed me. I loved it! Every thrust, every caress of his cock’s head against my wet depths, built the pleasure between my legs. I stared into my bride’s dark eyes, and saw the pleasure that Mistress was giving her, mirroring my own ecstasy. I squeezed her hand and smiled at her. Master thrust harder, the altar shaking beneath us. My nipples rubbed against the silk cloth that draped the altar; another delightful sensation that fueled my growing orgasm.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” I panted. “Umm, your cock is driving me wild! Harder! Fuck my slutty cunt, and fill your naughty slave’s pussy with your cum! I love it! I’m your dirty, little cumslut!”

I was so close to climaxing. Master’s thrusts were becoming more erratic. He was getting closer to cumming, too. Closer to filling my naughty snatch with his cream. Oh, I couldn’t wait. My naughty, little cunt was made for men to fill it with their cum, particularly this man! Nothing made me happier! I pushed my hips back, squeezing my cunt on his shaft. He buried himself into me, his hands gripping my hips hard.

“Fuck!” he moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I could feel his hot cum flooding my pussy and my orgasm crashed through me. “Yes! Oh, thank you, Master! That was fuckin’ amazing!”

Next to me, Desiree’s face contorted in pleasure, and she gasped, “¡Yo estoy correrse!” I smiled; Desiree always looked so wild and beautiful when she came.

“Fucking slut!” Mistress panted. “Keep wiggling that ass, whore! I’m gonna keep fucking you until I cum!”

“Oohh, cum for me, mi Reina! Please!”

Master pulled out of me, and I gasped; I could feel his seed running wet down my thighs. My gaze fell on Mistress. Her auburn hair was plastered to her sweaty face as she pumped her strap-on in and out of my bride. I reached out and caressed Mistress’s face, trailing my fingers down her pale neck to the slope of her breast, stopping at the neckline of her dress.

“Let me help you, Mistress,” I purred, pushing the fabric down to expose a dusky nipple at the tip of a perfect breast.

“You delightful whore,” Mistress cooed as I sucked that hard nipple into my lips. I played with the nub, rolling it around my tongue as I gently nursed. I saw blue eyes and a doll’s face loom up next to me as Korina started nursing at Mistress’s other breast. “You beautiful sluts!” Mistress moaned. “Yes, yes! You’re making me feel so happy! Oh, fuck, I’m cumming!”

Mistress pulled back, a happy smile on her face. Master wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the lips; I smiled. They loved each other so much, and it was always beautiful to watch them together. Desiree grasped my hands, kissed my knuckles, and we turned back to face Daisy. Her blue eyes sparkled with desire, and her cheeks were rosy-red.

“Do you, Alison Hertz, take Desiree de la Fuente to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, to cherish her, and to share her with your Gods as your slut-wife for so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” I happily vowed, my eyes misting with tears as I stared into Desiree’s beautiful, brown depths; tears glistened on her dark eyelashes. Desiree gently slid the gold wedding band down my finger, pushing it next to my engagement ring.

Daisy repeated the vows. “I do!” Desiree proclaimed confidently; I slipped the gold band down her finger.

“Then by the powers invested in me by our Living Gods and the State of Washington, I pronounce you slut-wives! You may now kiss each other.”

Desiree cupped my face, and lowered her lips to mine; we kissed. Her lips felt wonderful, soft and wet, and her tongue was gentle as it slipped into my mouth. She tasted sweet. I caressed her silky cheek. Our passion grew as we kissed, the blood pounding through my body, drowning out the cheering congregation. Her leg slipped between my thighs, and I shuddered as it rubbed against my dripping pussy.

I pushed my leg between my wife’s thighs, and delighted in the wet warmth of her pussy pressing on me. We started rubbing against each other as we kissed. My hand slipped down to her breast, squeezing her soft, firm tit in my hand, then pinching her nipple between my fingers. Desiree’s hand gripped the back of my head, pulling me into her lips, while the other hand slipped down my back and squeezed my ass. I rubbed my cunt harder on her thigh, my clit delightfully caressing her silken skin.

Her tongue withdrew, and I shoved mine into her mouth. Her hips rotated, rubbing her sticky juices all over my thigh. Her clit pressed hard against my flesh, and I knew Desiree was experiencing as much pleasure as I was. I flexed my ass, sliding my pussy up and down on her silky leg faster and faster. Then I felt something brush my asshole.

The naughty, delightful, wonderful slut!

Her finger circled my asshole, then pushed inside. I groaned into my wife’s lips, the intrusion driving my hips to fuck my pussy harder against her thigh. Still gripping her breast with one hand, I took my other and found her ample, Latina ass. I gave the plump cheeks a squeeze, before I dove into her cleft and found her tight asshole. My finger pushed and pushed at the ring, then it gave way before my persistent digit, and I was engulfed by her tight ass.

I felt my wife’s hips shove forward as I invaded her ass with first one, then two fingers. Not to be outdone, she slipped a second finger up my ass. I pumped my hips furiously as I rapidly fingered her ass. My pleasure grew and grew and grew, and then it exploded throughout my cunt. My ass squeezed on her fingers, and I trembled with passion in my wife’s arms. I felt Desiree go rigid, her juices flooding my thigh.

“I love you,” I whispered as we broke the kiss.

Behind us the congregation was cheering and clapping. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad sitting in the front row. I turned to look at him. He smiled at me, pride shining in his eyes, and a delighted thrill spread through my body.

I turned back to my wife, and her face was flushed, a happy smile gracing her lips. “I love you,” I told her again. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” Every time I said it, my happiness blossomed larger.

Her finger was tender as she stroked my cheek. “I love mi Sirenita, my slut-wife forever.”

I smiled and kissed my wife again. Joy suffused every fiber of my being. Forever with my slut-wife and our Master and Mistress. What more could a slut want?

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 42: Dreams

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 42: Dreams

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Male/Females, Female/Female, Male/Female/Teen female, Male/Teen female, Hermaphrodites/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Incest, First, Ass to Pussy, Ass to Mouth, Rimming, Wedded Lust, Pregnant, Lactation, Wife

For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories 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, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Chapter 41.



General Olmos’s assassination of Governor Holt, and the subsequent massacre of the Governor’s supporters, was the first of many atrocities committed by the Tyrants. The fact that they had General Olmos hung does not exculpate the Tyrants for the heinous act the General had committed in their names. For all we know, the Tyrants ordered the massacre, and placed the blame solely on General Olmos to maintain their benevolent appearance to the masses. Either way, the outcome benefited the tyrants: the Governors of New Hampshire, Florida, North Dakota, Maryland, and Alaska capitulated to the Tyrants the next day, ending the last governmental resistance in the United States.

–excerpt from ‘The History of the Tyrants’ Theocracy’, by Tina Allard

Thursday, November 7th, 2013 – Mark Glassner – Children’s Hospital, Omaha, NE

Every Thursday, Mary and I traveled to a random children’s hospital in America and spent the day healing all the children stricken with terminal diseases we could. It was the most rewarding thing in the world; all the credit goes to Mary for the idea.

I entered the next sick child’s room; the little boy looked so pale as he lay on his tiny hospital bed, festooned with wires monitoring his vitals. He was young, maybe only four, and dying of a rare form of leukemia known as JMML. It was an acronym for a bunch of words I couldn’t pronounce. A beautiful woman in her early forties sat beside his bed, clutching his tiny hand. Her eyes lit up for joy when she saw me enter the room with my bodyguards.

“My Lord,” she gasped, falling to her knees in worship. “Thank you for your generosity!”

Her face shone with hope and, even without make-up, her dusky features were beautiful. She was middle-eastern, a desert rose, and my cock stirred at the sight of her on her knees. You could always count on a grateful mother to relieve some tension.

“What is his name?” I asked, walking to her son.

“Abbas,” she answered. “After his father, he…” She teared up with grief and I nodded; reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be crying,” I told her and she flushed. “What’s your name.”

“Shabnab. But everyone calls me Shay.” She wiped at her tears and tried to smile.

With one hand I held hers and with the other her son’s. I concentrated on the boy being well and said in a commanding voice, “Tsariy!” Scarlet light engulfed her son and she tensed with anxiety. Power drained out of me, but I had huge reserves to tap. I could draw on the life-force of every person bound to me by the Zimmah spell.

The light faded, and the little boy opened his eyes. “Maman!” the boy exclaimed, sitting up and smiling and bouncing on his bed. I couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm.

Shay hugged her son, speaking to him in a rapid, musical language—Arabic or Farsi I guessed. She kissed him over and over and the boy tried to wiggle away from her, embarrassed by her affection. She turned to me, beaming, “Thank you, my Lord!”

I grabbed her hand and led her towards the bathroom. “What?” she asked in confusion.

“You wanted to thank me,” I told her. “51 will watch your son.”

She flushed and shivered. “Of course, my Lord.”

51 was my chief bodyguard, and often protected me personally. Six weeks ago we survived Brandon’s attack together. She sat on the bed, giving the boy a hug and smiling motherly at him. 51 had recently found out she was pregnant, and she and her husband were both excited by the news. I was looking forward to drinking her milk from those lovely, ebony breasts.

Inside the bathroom I ordered her to strip. She pulled off her frumpy sweater and the black t-shirt she wore underneath. She had a large pair of breasts that sagged a bit when she freed them from her bra; her areolas were huge, brown, with fat nipples that rose proudly up. Her loose skirt came off and she peeled out of dark pantyhose and white panties. Her bush was black as night and neatly trimmed, surrounding fat pussy lips. I could just see a hint of wet pink between her labias and my cock throbbed to experience her juicy depths.

“Thank you so much,” she breathed as I bent her over the sink.

Her cunt was wet as I plunged into her. She was loose, but warm and silky, and I fucked her hard. Her back was beautiful, her skin the color of dark cream, and I traced her spine. Her ass was a little plump, and jiggled as I pounded her. She looked over her shoulders at me and moaned wantonly.

“If you’re that loud your son will hear us,” I cautioned her, though I was pleased my cock elicited such a passionate response.

She flushed, her cunt nicely squeezing on my cock. She bit her lip, stifling her moan as I pounded her like a jackhammer. In the mirror, I could see her large tits as they swayed heavily. I reached around her and gave her breast a nice squeeze, enjoying the firm feel and silky skin. She had a spicy, cinnamon scent in her lustrious hair.

“Fuck you are one hot MILF!” I groaned. “You should fuck any young man that catches your eye!”

“I should,” she gasped in realization as the command sank in. “I’ve been so lonely since Fereydoon died.”

God, her tit felt great in my hand, soft and pliant. I pulled out of her and spun her around, sitting her plump ass on the sink. I buried my face into her big tits and plowed into her cunt. I enjoyed her heavy melons on my cheeks, smelling her sweat and that wonderful, cinnamon scent as her cunt massaged my cock. Her hips writhed, grinding her clit into my groin every time I buried into her.

She screamed wordlessly as she came, her cunt squeezing my cock. I gripped her ass, and thrust hard into her. My body tensed and I spilled my cum inside her cunt. I thrust a few more times, squeezing out the last few drops.

I rested with my face buried between her mounts, breathing heavily. She cradled my head, rocking slightly. “Thank you, My Lord,” she whispered. “For saving my son.”

I looked up; tears brimmed in her dark eyes, so I kissed her gently on the lips. “Your Gods love you,” I answered, pulling away, buttoning up my pants. “Go be with your son.”

She wiped at her tears, then bent down to pick up her panties.

I swept out of the hospital room, and came upon quite the lovely sight. Xiu, my busty Asian slut, was leaning against the wall dressed in a slutty nurse’s outfit. The top was undone and her round breasts hung out, obscenely stretched as the slut pulled on both of her nipple piercings. On the floor, one of the hospital’s nurses had her head buried beneath Xiu’s white miniskirt, vigorously eating Xiu’s pussy out.

“Master,” moaned Xiu. “Nurse Karishma was very insistent on eating my pussy! I hope that’s alright!”

My cock hardened at the sight. “More than alright, slut.”

The nurse had dusky-red skin and raven black hair. Her name sounded Indian – from India – and her skin and hair gave credence to that. I could see flashes of her dark eyes as she eagerly devoured the flood of tangy juices. Xiu’s almond-shaped eyes rolled into the back of her head as she shuddered on the slutty nurse’s face.

“Oh wow,” she purred, a contented smile playing on her lips.

“I think you should return the favor,” I whispered in Xiu’s ears. “Get down on your hands and knees and eat her ass out.”

Xiu gave me a passionate kiss; I could taste the orange she had been eating earlier. “You always have the best ideas, Master.”

“I know,” I smiled, giving her ass a squeeze.

Nurse Karishma remained kneeling on the ground as Xiu dropped behind her. The slut pulled the nurse’s lilac scrubs off her round ass. She wore no panties; her pussy shaved and glistening, a pink gash surrounded by dusky-red flesh. My Asian slut parted her cheeks and buried her face deep in the nurse’s delectable ass.

“Oh yes,” she moaned in a delightful, Hindi accent, that sounded like silk rubbing against my ears. “Eat my backdoor!”

Xiu’s own backdoor peeked out from beneath her white miniskirt. I knelt behind her and roughly shoved my unlubed cock up her ass. She gave a throaty moan. Xiu was a masochist, and she loved to be fucked hard in the butt as painfully as possible. I fucked her like the piston inside an engine and my foot was stepping hard on the accelerator.

Her grunts of pain and pleasure filled the hallway. I could smell her arousal grow, and I reached around her waist and felt the juices running down her thighs. She was loving every second of my brutal ass-fucking.

“Eat my ass!” the nurse gasped. “You disgusting slut! Revel in it, untouchable! Degrade yourself!”

Xiu’s ass spasmed on my cock! She screamed, cumming hard.

“What a filthy whore!” I groaned, and spanked her ass hard, a stinging slap that left my own hand smarting.

Xiu bucked harder between us, the spanking spurring her orgasm to higher levels of intensity. Her ass squeezed and pulsed about my cock, begging for a load of my cum. I landed a second slap on her ass, leaving a large, red handprint burning on her light-olive skin.

“I’m cumming!” moaned the nurse. “You disgusting, untouchable whore! You made me cum by eating my filthy ass!”

Xiu lifted her face up, looking over her shoulder at me. “Cum in my abused ass, Master!” she begged. “I need it!”

“Because you’re a filthy slut?” I demanded.

“The filthiest!”

I blasted her ass. Every muscle in my body tensed as I released my climax into the slut. I buried into her, letting her convulsing ass milk the last drops of cum out of my balls. I savored my release and the feel of her tight ass for a minute, before I pulled out. Her asshole gaped open, leaking frothy cum out.

“May I clean your cock, my Lord?” Nurse Karishma asked demurely. She had a beautiful face, mature, in her early thirties. Her dark eyes had a hungry look and her lips bore a sultry smile.

“Do it, slut,” I ordered.

She crawled on her hands and knees, her long, black hair dragging on the hospital’s floor. She grasped my cock, taking a long, slow lick up my shaft, savoring the sour flavor of Xiu’s ass. Her tongue scooped up a drop of cum from my urethra, then slid back down my shaft.

“My Lord, if I am not being too presumptuous, I would like to ask a boon of you,” she murmured between licks.

“What, slut?” I asked the nurse.

“I want to serve you,” she answered. “Use me for your pleasure! Make me one of your maids!” Her mouth engulfed my cock and she deep-throated me in one, smooth motion. She hummed and swallowed, massaging my cock with wonderful sensations.

“You’re quite talented,” I moaned. “I think we can find a place for you.”

She popped off my cock, beaming up at me. “Thank you, my Lord!”

Xiu smacked her ass. “Don’t stop sucking his cock, whore!”

“Sorry!” she gasped, and engulfed my cock.

Xiu grasped the nurse’s head, giving me an apologetic glance, then my slut started fucking the woman’s face up and down on my cock. “I’ll see her properly trained, Master.”

“Good,” I moaned.

Watching Xiu force Karishma’s face on my cock brought me to a quick boil and I flooded her lips! Xiu quickly pulled her off my cock, and shoved her tongue inside the nurse’s mouth, eager to taste my cum.

“Whose the next child I’m healing?” I asked Xiu.

She broke the kiss, cum on her lips. “Jenny Peck, room 304.”

Jenny Peck was fifteen, and in desperate need of a lung transplant because of her Cystic Fibrosis. Her parents sat on one side of her hospital bed, watching their daughter as a respirator breathed for her. The mother was blonde, with a heart-shaped face and plump lips, and I smiled at her.

“My God,” her husband murmured and bowed.

“Oh, thank you,” the wife said in relief and knelt before me. “The doctors don’t think she has long to live.”

Her mouth was so close to my cock. I wanted to pull it out and have her suck on it. But her daughter was dying, so that could wait. I stepped around her and grabbed Jenny’s hand. She was harder to heal than Abbas, her lungs, liver and pancreas were all damaged by her condition. The color returned to her skin and a beautiful smile appeared on her lips.

“Oh my baby,” her father cried, hugging her.

“You healed her,” the mother whispered.

I smiled at her and unzipped my pants. She licked her lips, eyeing my hard cock. She glanced up at me – her eyes full of worship and her tongue pursed between red lips – then she leaned over and sucked the head of my cock into her lips.

“Good,” I murmured, enjoying her lips as she slowly bobbed her head.

“Mom!” Jenny gasped as her dad let out a strangled, “Irene!”

I glanced at them, shock painting their faces. “It’s okay. Irene is just worshiping me. You should be proud and happy for her.” I smiled as my commands sank in, and the husband and daughter relaxed.

The daughter was actually quite pretty now that the color had returned to her face, cheeks flushing and eyes sparkling as she watched her mother blow me. She looked a lot like her mother, although the eyes were different: the mother’s were green, the daughter’s blue. Dimples appeared in the thin cotton of her hospital gown as her nipples grew with arousal, fanning my lust.

“Have you ever had sex, Jenny?” I asked.

“No,” she answered. Her father nudged her. “I mean, no my Lord.”

Irene sucked harder, her hands cupping my balls. I gripped her blonde hair ,and started to slowly fuck her mouth. “Your wife gives great head.”

He smiled a little foolishly. “I’ve never had complaints, my Lord.”

I tried to force my cock down her throat and she stiffened. “Relax, slut,” I groaned. “Relax your throat so I can fuck your mouth!”

She relaxed and I forced my cock down her throat. Gripping her head between my hands, I fucked her vigorously. Her throat was tight, and felt wonderful on my cock. My balls slapped her chin, golden curls spilling through my clenched fingers. Jenny’s deep blue eyes were wide as she watched her mother be my whore.

“Let’s see those tits, Jenny,” I moaned.

“Um, okay, sure,” she muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

“What do you say,” her father admonished.

“Right, yes, my Lord,” Jenny sheepishly answered.

“I’m sorry, my daughter never learned proper manners, my Lord.” He grimaced. “We went easy on her because of her… Well, I guess we don’t have to anymore.”

She pulled her hospital gown over her head, exposing pale, budding breasts topped with dark-pink nipples. The nipples were so small, they were like little buttons. “I can always forgive a pretty, young girl,” I said, feasting on her youthful charms. “Let’s see your cunt.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she blushed, hooking her fingers through the waistband of her cotton panties, and pulled them off her coltish legs.

I came in her mother’s mouth as I saw her tight slit surrounded by golden curls. I let go of Irene, and she pulled off my cock, swallowing most of my large load. A glob of white spunk fell out of the corner of her mouth onto her thick sweater, and soaked into the fabric.

I grabbed Irene’s hand, and pulled the mother to her feet, turning her to face her daughter. “Isn’t she beautiful?” I asked her as I reached down to fondle her plump ass through her long, dark skirt.

“She’s my angel,” Irene whispered.

“Have you ever thought about spreading her pale thighs and tasting her innocent treasure?”

“I don’t under…oh.” Irene flushed crimson. “No.”

“Why not? Look at how beautiful her cunt is, surrounded by that forest of golden curls. I’m gonna fuck her; pop her cherry. Why don’t you use your mouth and get her nice and ready for me.”

“I…yes, my Lord,” she breathed, licking her lips and reaching out to stroke her daughter’s legs. “Momma will get you all wet and ready for him.”

“Just bend over and pull her to you,” I instructed as I rubbed her ass through her skirt.

She bent over the foot of the hospital bed, pulled her daughter to her, and spread her thighs. Her face was inches away and she breathed her daughter’s scent in, before burying her face into Jenny’s fresh snatch.

“Oh fuck!” Jenny gasped.

“Language, young lady,” reprimanded her dad.

“Really, dad?” Jenny rolled her eyes at her dad and shook her head.

I hiked up Irene’s skirt and was delighted to find her panty-free. A true believer. Her cunt was shaved save for a strip of blonde above her clit. But it wasn’t her pussy I was interested in. I spread her asscheeks opened and fingered her puckered hole.

“Ever been fucked in the ass?” I asked as I shoved a finger past the tight sphincter into her velvety depths.

“No, my Lord!” she squeaked as I violated her ass.

“Why haven’t you ever let your husband fuck your ass?”

“It’s dirty,” she answered.

I pushed the head of my wet cock against her asshole and pushed in. She moaned, squeezing tight on my ass as I sank in. I looked at her husband and told him, “When I’m done, your wife will be more than happy to give you sloppy seconds.” I gave her ass a slap. “Right, Irene?”

“Oh…um…yes, dear!” she panted, her voice tight with pleasure. “I’d be…uhhh…thrilled to!”

Her ass was tight and warm as I reamed her. I gripped her hips and shoved her hard against the teen’s hospital bed as I watched the mother devour her daughter’s pussy. Jenny writhed on the bed, gripping the bedsheets with one hand and her mother’s golden curls with the other.

“Oh, Mom!” she gasped. “Oh yes, that’s…ohhh…so amazing!”

She tightened her thighs about her mother’s head as she writhed in pleasure. Irene moved her lips around, exploring the delicate folds of her daughter’s teenage cunt while her ass squeezed hard on my invading cock. I stroked harder and faster, every rub of my cock’s head against her bowels built the growing pressure in my balls.

Mark, are you staying on task? sent Mary.

Sure, I sent back to my wife. We could communicate telepathically, thanks to the Siyach spell.

Liar. I could feel her amusement through the sending. Who’re you fucking right now?

Mary always seemed to sense when I was fucking through the sending no matter how hard I tried to keep the passion out of my thoughts. Of course, when you were buried in a woman’s ass that felt this amazing, it was hard to hide your passion. Fucking a mother’s ass while she eats out her virgin daughter’s cunt.

I see why you got distracted. There was a resigned edge to her thought. And how many children have you healed?

Five, I answered. Including the teenage girl learning about the joys of mother-daughter incest.

After your finished, you have to heal ten children without taking a break. I’ll check with 51 to make sure. That seemed more than a little bit unfair, but I knew 51 would side with Mary. Sometimes I regretted giving free-will back to the bodyguards.

Yes, dear, I promised.

Jenny gasped loudly, her body convulsing as an orgasm rippled through her. “Oh fuck, Mom!” she cried. “That was fucking awesome!”

Irene grinned at her, “Wait ’til you feel the second one, angel. And mind your language. We didn’t raise you to speak such filth!” Then she bent down and continued to vigorously eat her daughter out.

A suspicion formed in my mind. My wife was nearly as lustful a being as I was. So Mare, how many children have you healed?

That’s not important, she sent back, a hint of guilt in her thought.

How many? I pressed.

Six, she answered weakly. I got sidetracked.

That’s my naughty filly!

Fine, we both have to heal ten children before indulging. Okay, my horny stallion?

Sure, Mare. Love ya.

Love you, too.

I wonder whom my wife had fucked? A hot MILF with large tits? An innocent teen? Maybe it was a guy. An image of Mary riding another man’s cock floated up in my mind. Her perky breasts, swollen with her pregnancy, bouncing up and down, sweat rolling down her cute baby bump – she had just entered her second trimester – that was starting to show. There was something exciting about watching your wife be another man’s whore. A perverse thrill. I wondered if she felt the same thing when she watched me fuck another woman?

“Fuck!” I groaned. Thinking of my wife with another man sent my balls into overdrive and I creamed Irene’s ass. I pulled out and slapped her butt. “It’s your husband’s turn. Be a good, little whore for him.”

Irene looked up from her daughter’s cunt, sticky with her juices, and smiled. “Absolutely, my Lord!”

Jenny’s eyes apprehensively fell on my dirty cock as I mounted the bed. In the background, Irene moaned as her husband buried his cock into her sloppy ass. I climbed over the virgin teen, bent down and nipped at her bite-sized nipples, then I licked up her sweaty neck and kissed her lips. She was hesitant, unsure. I was her first kiss. It was as sweet as an ice tea on a hot summer day.

“Relax,” I whispered into her ear and instantly the tension melted out of her. “Relax, my little slut.”

“Okay,” she nodded and I kissed her again. Her tongue brushed my lips and her legs spread wantonly for me.

I guided my cock, still dirty from her mother’s ass, to her virgin hole. I rubbed it on her tight slit; enjoying the feel of her silky pubes on my dick’s head. She gasped as I buried half of my cock into her, pressing against her maidenhead. Fuck, I loved popping a girl’s cherry, they were just so rare. I rubbed her right nipple with my hand, letting the pleasure help to relax her, then I buried my cock into her. Her hymen tore like tissue paper, barely slowing my cock down.

“Holy shit!” she gasped; her cunt squeezed like a vice on my cock. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Language!” snapped her dad as he reamed her mom’s ass.

“Holy shit, holy shit!” she kept screaming as I pumped my cock inside her sopping cunt. Her eyes and cunt squeezed tightly as she came. “Oh my fucking shit!”

“Language, young lady! That’s your last warning!”

“You mind your father,” Irene panted. “Umm, go a little harder, Ernie! Crud, why didn’t we do this sooner!” The parents shared a sloppy kiss, and the wife purred, “That’s your daughter’s sweet pussy you’re tasting.”

“Shit,” he moaned.

“Language, dad!” Jenny exclaimed.

“I want to watch you make love to our daughter,” Irene moaned. “And then I’ll lick her all nice and clean!”

“Holy shi…shoot!” Ernie gasped and I was pretty sure he just blew his load.

Jenny gasped and clutched me tightly, thrusting her hips to meet my stroke. I really pounded her tight cunt and savored how delicious she felt. It was like plunging into a soft, juicy peach. Her fingernails raked my back and she came again, quick and fast, like a tiny firecracker, her tight cunt milking my cock.

“Fucking whore!” I grunted. “Your cunt’s fucking tight! Goddamn I love teenage pussy!” I spurted three large blasts into her youthful cunt and pulled out of her.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered, her legs obscenely spread, my cum dripping pink out of her cunt. “For healing me, and for…you know.”

I gave her another kiss. “You’ll always remember the day you fucked a God,” I told her.

“I will,” she smiled, a tear glistening in her eyes. “You gave me back my life.” Her arms wrapped around me and she gently sobbed into my shoulder.

I held her for a few minutes then gently pulled away. “Why don’t you show your parents how much you love them,” I whispered in her ear. “Eat your mother’s ass out and let your daddy try out your cunt.”

“I will,” she smiled, sniffing.

I stood, straitening my suit, and walked out, followed by my bodyguards. The hospital was filled with the bodyguards and outside a company of the Legion – about 130 soldiers bound by the Ragily prayer – guarded the perimeter.

“Spectre, Spectre!” a voice suddenly crackled on 51’s radio.

Fear spiked in me “Where?” I demanded at 51, summoning my Celestial gold sword and armor.

“Sitrep!” 51 calmly said into the radio.

The bodyguards around me drew their weapons, scanning the hallway with care. Their guns were loaded with bronze bullets inscribed with spells by Candy. It was delicate, time-consuming work, and you could often hear Candy’s frustrated curses echo out of Sam’s suite. They were needed though, normal bullets were ineffective against spiritual entities like demons or Lilith’s foul offsprings.

I cautiously looked around. ‘Spectre’ was the codename for a demon attack. In the last week the Patriots had tried a new strategy: summoning lesser demons and sending them after Mary and I. They rarely got past the Legion. Outside, automatic gunfire erupted.

Lesser demons weren’t fallen angels, like Molech and Lucifer. Or even powerful human souls like Lilith. They were the souls or regular men and women twisted by their eons long imprisonment in Hell, tortured and twisted into soldiers by the Powers of Abyss to fight their never-ending wars. I gritted my teeth, anger boiling up at the Patriots. They were growing more and more bold. Innocent people could get hurt in these attacks. The sooner the Matmown was finished, the sooner we could make our plans against the Patriots and Lilith without fear of them spying on us from the Shadows.

Another burst of gunfire followed by excited squawks on the radio. “All clear,” 51 reported. “Spectre neutralized.”

I shook my head; these attacks were so pointless. The demons were outclassed. Thanks to the Ragily prayer, the Legion weapons could hurt demonic flesh without enchantments, and the demons never stood a chance against such firepower. I relaxed, about to dismiss my armor, when 51 paled, reaching for her handgun.

I spun around. Like smoke billowing out of a grate, the lesser demon materialized out of the wall a foot behind me, swinging his claws at my face. It was a lucifugi, a demon of night. Its body resembled black smoke, wavering beneath the hallway’s florescent lights.

I raised my arm, blocking the swipe easily on my vambrace. Then a quick slash with my sword parted the demon’s head and it fell to smokey pieces on the hospital floor. I stared down at the demon’s evaporating body, my heart pounding. If it had attacked just a second later, it would have caught me after I dismissed my armor and weapon.

Feeling paranoid, I kept peering around, not ready to drop my guard. This attack was smart, sending a decoy to attack the Legion, while a lone demon slipped in. Mary rushed around the corner, surrounded by her bodyguards, and hugged me. I relaxed, and let my armor dissolve away, showering my wife with golden sparks.

“Fucking Patriots,” I muttered.

“We need to do something about them,” Mary growled. I couldn’t agree more.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Between us, we healed sixty-one sick children. We gathered out in front of the hospital with all the children we healed so the photographers and news crews could record our benevolence. It helped to cement our grasp on the US and garnered sympathies world wide.

We extensively used the media to get as many people enthralled to us, and took other steps to get people under our power. We coordinated broadcasts with prisons around the US, commanding the inmates to obey the laws and to help improve their communities. Then we released them. Everyday, Federal offices across the country would hold live teleconferences with us, and it was mandatory that all their employees watch. We had seventy percent of the Federal Government’s employees under our power. Those that refused to come to work on the broadcast days were fired; their names given to the NSA to be monitored.

Our control was spreading across the US borders into Canada and Mexico as well, and even overseas to parts of Europe. It wasn’t going nearly so well in Asia and the Middle East, where the governments were cracking down on our followers. They ruthlessly were trying to stop the spread of my commands by shutting down their countries access to the internet and stopping local TV from carrying any foreign broadcasts.

And that didn’t even count the Warlocks sprouting like weeds across the world, causing all sorts of problems. Some were emulating me, on a smaller scale, taking over parts of Africa and South America. Others were just doing what they pleased, forming harems of women, or men. Some were killing indiscriminately and others were taking revenge on those that had slighted them in the past.

The First Commandment of our Theocracy: You shall not make Pacts with Demons. That’s why the President signed the Anti-Warlock Act. Anyone who had made a Pact with a demon, including Lucifer, were required to turn themselves in, be exorcised, and pardoned for their mistake. If not, they would be executed. Warlocks were too powerful to be allowed to roam free. I was hoping the death sentence would spur the Warlocks into turning themselves in, but none had, even after we executed the few, easy to find Warlocks.

Mary fell asleep on my shoulder in the back of our limo on the ride to the airport. Healing was tiring work, and Mary’s pool of bound people to draw on was smaller than mine. I put one arm around her shoulder and rested my other hand on her pregnant stomach, feeling her baby bump. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of my wife, the scent of her coconut shampoo masking a hint of sweat.

“Sir,” 51 whispered, gently shaking me. “We’re here.”

I must have fallen asleep. Mary still leaned against me and I kissed her forehead and shook her. She squirmed then opened her emerald eyes. “Are we at the airport?” she yawned.

“Yeah, Mare.”

Air Force One awaited us. Of course, the media also awaited us. We put on our regal personas as we stepped out of the limo. It wouldn’t do for the masses to learn that we were just regular people who grew tired. Reporters were yelling questions, asking about the latest Patriots attack.

“The Patriots claimed today’s attack was retribution for the Governor Mansion Massacre,” one reporter shouted.

I froze, anger flooding into me, followed by guilt. Mary’s arm wrapped around my waist and gave me a comforting squeeze. I had told General Olmos to take care of the Governor. I didn’t mean for him to execute the man on national television and order his soldiers to massacre a peaceful gathering.

“That was a zealous individual acting on his own,” I answered evenly. “As I said before. The Patriots will use whatever flimsy excuse they can to justify their terrorism.”

“If we had ordered the attack, we wouldn’t have ordered General Olmos’s execution for murder, would we?” Mary asked the media, her tone gentle and patient—a mother lecturing her children. “If we are the monsters the Patriots claim, than why do we spend one day a week healing sick children? We love all of you, even our wayward Patriots.”

That was a good line of bullshit. Mary was better than me at this. We gave the media a wave, and boarded our plane, ignoring the rest of their questions.

When the plane reached its cruising altitude, we retired to our private cabin. Mary quickly undressed and I admired the curves of her body. The pregnancy gave her skin a lustrous glow; my cock stirred with lust. Even the gentle swell of her baby bump was sexy. I reached out and caressed her hips, and I pulled her close to kiss her.

“I’m tired, Mark,” she murmured. I tried to hide my disappointment and she sensed it. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay.” She gave me a quick peck.

“Yeah,” I nodded. She did look exhausted. I turned to head to the cabin and to get some relief from Korina.

She climbed onto the bed. “Hold me,” she murmured. “I want to fall asleep in your arms.” I hid my irritated sigh and I snuggled up to her. She wiggled back into me and closed her eyes. “G’nite,” she murmured, already falling asleep.

My cock was hard, and her plump ass rubbing against me wasn’t helping. As I considered calling in Korina to relieve the pressure in my cock with a quiet blowjob, I fell asleep.

“Finally,” Mary said. “I was wondering how long you were going to stay awake. I was getting lonely.”

We were sharing a dream. I stood on a sandy beach, the sun warm on my back, with waves crashing behind her. She sat on a white, sandy beach in a skimpy, yellow bikini, her skin a golden tan, and her belly flat; she didn’t have to be pregnant in the dream. I smiled, noticing her ass looked a little skinnier. She always believed that her ass was a little fat. I thought it was perfect, just plump enough to squeeze.

I looked around for Azrael. I didn’t see the Angel lurking around.

“She’s not here, Mark,” Mary answered. “Sam and I figured out how to connect our dreams without needing Azrael.”

“Wow,” I said. “And damn you are hot in that bikini.”

She smiled and stood up, letting me get a good look at her tanned body. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach with you. Like Hawaii. And make love in the sea.” She grinned, her delightful dimples creasing her cheeks. “I told you I’d make it up.”

“You did,” I grinned, my cock hardening as I drank in her body.

She dashed to the blue water, her ass swaying and jiggling beautifully as she ran, clad in the tight bikini. I chased after her into the warm water. Mary dived into the sea and came up, her dark hair damp as she treaded water. I swam after her, the water relaxing away all my cares. I caught my wife and pulled her to me and shared a salty kiss.

Her arms and legs wrapped around me as we kissed. We floated in the water and shared our love. I reached behind her back, and found the ties for her top. The bikini floated away atop the waves. Her breasts were the same golden tan and I bent down, letting the sea water engulf me as I captured her nipple.

“Oh Mark,” she moaned as she ground her crotch into my stomach.

Still sucking her nipple, I untied her bikini bottoms and let them float away. She grasped my head and pulled me off her breast and kissed me. Her tongue invaded my mouth, inflaming my lusts. I moaned as her hands shoved into my trunks, groping my dick.

We rocked in the waves as we kissed, my legs slowly kicking to keep our heads above the warm water. Her hand stroked my cock as my fingers found her plump ass, squeezing and kneading. My dick ached to be in her, and Mary seemed to sense my need, or maybe her pussy needed to be filled, because her hands pushed down my swimming trunks and her hips shifted, and she engulfed my cock to the hilt.

“Yes, yes!” she purred as she sank onto me, surrounding me in her spongy warmth.

As we fucked, we slipped under the waves, but that didn’t matter. It was a dream. We didn’t need to breath.

We floated in the bright blue of the ocean, coral glowing on the ocean floor and colorful fish zipping around us. We slowly spun about as the waves surged to the shore. Bubbles escaped our lips as we moaned, floating lazily to the surface. We writhed against each other, her cunt squeezing my cock with her familiar tight grip, and I could feel her passion grow as I fucked her. I knew just how to move to pleasure my wife.

We stared into each other’s eyes, lost in love. Her auburn hair floated about us, like the lazy tendrils of a sea anemone. Mary came first, bucking against me. Her cunt milked my cock, hungry for my cum. I reveled in the feel of her pussy, the tight friction bringing my balls to a boil. I came hard, tense pleasure surging out of me and into my wife.

I held my wife as we lazily spun in the ocean. Mary’s body clung to me, her cheek resting on my chest. My cock was still buried inside her and, as she shifted her weight, my cock began to harden. Our passions grew, urging our hips to move. I wanted to float with her forever in this ocean, just making love. An eternity of love and passion.

I kept fucking her and she kept grinding her clit against me. A second orgasm burst through her and she tightly held me. I kept pumping my ass, my balls ready to burst. Her pussy muscles writhed on my cock and I groaned; a flood of bubbles rose out of my mouth as my cum shot into my wife. I heaved against her as it felt like every nerve in my body exploded; lost to the pleasure of my naughty filly.

We washed up onto the sandy beach, still wrapped around each other. Mary was atop me, her wet hair brushing my cheek. I was still inside her, hard and ready. She leaned up on her arms, her breasts brushing my chest as I reached up and stroked her cheek. A wave surged around us, warm and salty.

“I wish we could just stay here forever.”

She smiled at my words, gently rocking her hips. A slow, languid rhythm. “I would love that.”

“We could find a beach like this, away from everything,” I told her. “Leave all of this responsibility behind. Just us and the sluts…and the maids. A magnificent beach mansion full of hot women eager to please us.”

Her green eyes sparkled dreamily, then she sighed. “Our enemies would just find us,” Mary bitterly answered. “The Patriots, Lilith and…” she swallowed her last word. I wondered whom she was about to name. Ever since she spoke with the Mother Superior, she had been cagey about some revelation. Something so important that she could reveal it only in the Matmown.

“We have this night,” I told her.”

“We can return here every night,” Mary whispered. “Our safe refuge from the world. Just me and you.”

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

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 told me.

I yawned, smiling at my husband. The dream had been such a success. We made love for what seemed like hours on that sandy beach. The dream-sharing 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 Angle had laid the bridge, but we didn’t need her to cross anymore. We were so close that our souls were practically one, bound tightly by wishes and spells—and love.

“And what lead to Sister Cuntrag submitting to Master and Mistress?” April asked. I frowned. She was sitting 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.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’re Gods, Mistress,” April answered. “I’m going to write about your life. Every religion needs scriptures.”

“Wow,” Mark whistled. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

April flushed. “I’ve always thought about it. 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. “Good luck. I can’t wait to read it.”

April managed to blush an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ll do my very best.”

I sat down next to Mark, leaning my head on his shoulder, thinking about April’s 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 for beyond our capabilities.

Lucifer had to be stopped. We had to have the World prepared in case the worse should happen and the Gates of Hell are opened and the Devil and his ilk are unleashed to plague mankind. 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.

The Limo drove us north on I-5 to the Murano Hotel, our temporary home while our Mansion was being constructed. After Brandon burned down our neighborhood, we had commandeered the Hotel in downtown Tacoma. I was still tired, the flight was only a few hours. Just long enough to take a nap, but I needed more sleep.

The lobby was full of our maids, dressed in a variety of sexy maid outfits. They were mostly teenage girls, but a few were older women. They were all recruited by Willow out of her clinic and bound to Mark with the Zimmah spell.

“Master, Mistress,” Pearl bowed. She was the chief maid. Her teenage daughter, Cindy, was one of the thirty or so maids that greeted us. “Welcome back.”

Mark motioned to the dusk-red Hindi beauty he met in the hospital. “Karishma will be joining your maids,” he told Pearl. “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 took Karishma’s hand. “Umm, aren’t you a pretty one. The girls and I will take good care of you.”

All of our family and employees had rooms here. 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 seemed to round out their threesome nicely.

The elevator opened and Sam walked out naked, trailed by an equally naked Candy, her love-slave. I flushed as I saw the cock swinging between her legs and the cum dripping out of Candy’s pussy. Sam felt my eyes on her cock, and she blushed, concentrated, and it shrank back into her clitoris. Memories of having my own cock flooded my mind, the feeling of warm pussy engulfing me and the intense release of a male orgasm.

My pussy dampen. 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? I’ve seen him watch Sam fuck other women, lust burning in his eyes. But Sam wasn’t his wife, and he’s never fucked her once since she’s gotten her cock. 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 cock sometimes.

“It’s finished,” Sam answered.

“What is?” I yawned. We had been traveling the country for the last three days. The NSA had turned its considerable capabilities into spying on US Citizens and we crashed several protest rallies and placed more resistors under our control before stopping in Omaha to spend the day healing.

“The Matmown!” Excitement filled her voice. “Just a few hours ago.”

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

“I summoned Karen and she could not see us within it,” Sam confirmed.

I glanced at Mark and I could see the eagerness in his eyes. He was desperate to learn what secret I had been holding back these last six weeks. Maryam – 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 her head off and buried her with a mouth full of dirt.

They trooped into the elevator. Mark and Mary, and all their sluts. I wanted to step through the Shadows and rip their heads off. Mark 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 spectre.

It was just as well, I would most likely die. My skills weren’t in combat, and Mark had slain Molech, one of the most powerful of the Demon Princes. 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 ghost 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 was about to cross over. I could feel their eyes on me, full of anger and hatred. I ignored them, focusing on Mark’s group.

Mark’s elevator reached the basement and he and his sluts walked 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 pure, painful light. The door to the Matmown lay open, not that it mattered; I still couldn’t enter it, not from the Shadows.

The door closed and I wanted to howl in frustration. They were going to move on me, I just knew 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. Why did you even bother?”

I could feel his radiance on my back. “What I do is none of your business. I am yours no longer.”

“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; trying 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 Maryam told that slattern in France.”

He shrugged. “I’ll know soon enough.”

“How,” I asked suspiciously. “Not even you can penetrate a Matmown.”

“I have a spy,” he answered. “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 spell.”

His smile was condescending. “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. 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 face was round, set with blue, sultry eyes. My lust stirred and I let my cock grow hard, expanding from my clit. My frustration needed an outlet and Lana’s juicy sheath was the perfect place to release some pent-up energy.

“Lana,” I said imperiously.

“Yes, my Goddess?” she asked.

“Attend me.”

She rose gracefully, dressed in a flowery dress and a light, blue sweater. She shrugged off the sweater and pulled her dress over her head. Her breasts were round; large nipples pierced with gold rings. My eyes feasted on her plump curves. Her heavy breasts swayed as she walked around to my side of the desk and bent over. I touched her ass and she gasped, shaking as an orgasm swept through her, filling the air with the most delicious of scents—a woman’s arousal.

I savored her tart, tangy fragrance as my own, tight red dress dissolved into mist.

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

Chantelle undressed as well. She had the slim, lithe body 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 cock gently swelled from Chantelle’s clit, and Lana reached out and grasped her wife’s dick.

“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.

Lana’s cunt was shaved, her labia engorged and dark with passion. I shoved my cock deep into her sheath. My Lust flooded Lana, traveling through her body and sending her cunt to convulse about my dick, before my Lust passed through her body and into Chantelle’s.

“Drink my cum!” Chantelle moaned as my Lust triggered her climax, gripping Lana’s blonde hair and shoving her cock deep into her wife’s hungry lips.

I pounded Lana’s cunt. My Lust kept her cumming, her delightful tunnel massaging my cock, slowly building my orgasm. Chantelle fucked Lana’s mouth, finding a rhythm with me. We’d thrust into Lana at the same time, filling her up with the cocks she loved. Chantelle’s eyes squeezed shut, her small, apple-sized breasts jiggling as orgasm after orgasm rippled through her, pumping blast after blast of cum into Lana’s mouth.

“My beautiful Lana,” she moaned. “Swallow my load! Oh fuck, I’m cumming again!” Chantelle’s finger reached down, scooping some white cum that leaked from Lana’s lips. She stared at the glistening drop, then licked her finger clean.

Such a nasty sight. I reached out, grasping Chantelle’s head, and pulled her lips to mine. They were sweet and salty, and the slut moaned her passion into my mouth as my tongue explored her. When I broke the kiss she wore a foolish, drunk look. She gasped and moaned, flooding her wife’s mouth with more jizz.

“My Goddess,” she panted. “Thank you!”

I cupped one of my heavy, perfect breasts, and Chantelle latched onto my nipple. I let my milk flow and she nursed eagerly. She sucked, pleasure arcing through me, joining the growing storm in my womb. I fucked Lana harder, her tight pussy gripping me like velvet glove. I exulted in her wet, spongy flesh. I was the Goddess of Lust, and Lana and Chantelle fervently worshiped me. I drank in their lust; 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 lust.

Primal, vital lust.

The storm raged inside me then surged out my dick into Lana’s pussy. Her cunt spasmed on my cock as my cum squirted into her. I moaned; my glorious release trembled throughout my body, and I forgot all about my problems in this one, rapturous instance.

I collapsed into my chair, my breasts heaving. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply the musk that filled my office. My body tingled with energy, restoring what I 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 holds their life-force in the palm of their hands. Lucifer is just trying to keep me unbalanced.

I opened my eyes and saw Lana’s messy cunt slowly leaking my black cum and I could hear the two sluts kissing. “Hmm, thank you,” purred Lana. “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 and 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 Fatima. “It’s not transmitting effectively. She thinks another few weeks to fine tune it.” I didn’t really think there would have been some miraculous breakthrough in the last few hours.

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, and 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.

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

“Umm, 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, muscles flexing. 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.

“I have a plan, Priestesses,” I groaned, savoring the feel of her pussy.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 43.