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The Devil’s Pact Side-Story: The Alukah Part 2-The Motherhouse

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Side-Story: The Alukah

Part 2: The Motherhouse

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Magic, Oral, Violence, Vampire

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 my_pen_name3000@hotmail.com, and you can contact my editor by email at dionysus40@prodigy.net.



Click here for Part 1.


Note: This takes place during Chapter 40, following Sam on her mission to Rennes-le-Château to study the Matmown in the Nun’s Motherhouse. Thanks to klimstit for inspiring me to write a vampire story.



Wednesday October 2nd, 2013 – Sam Soun

As our early morning flight on British Air took off from Heathrow Airport in London to Toulouse in Southern France, the entire plane was abuzz about the woman found badly assaulted in the restroom in the terminal. She was found around midnight local time, and since then I kept Candy and I where there were people around. Safety in the herd. I took no chances and made sure my bronze dagger – enchanted to harm spiritual beings – was easily accessible.

“They say she had bite marks on her thighs and breasts,” a passenger in the seat in front of us whispered to the woman sitting next to her. “Like something had drank her blood.”

“I heard the girl was naked and delirious when they found her,” the second passenger whispered back. “They say she was…” the passenger gave a quick look around to see if anyone was eavesdropping, “…masturbating. The poor thing was barely conscious from blood loss and still jilling herself.”

“It sounds like one of Lilith’s children, Sam,” Candy whispered to me. “One of the Akula.”

“Alukah,” I absently corrected, thumbing my earlobe. I had my carry-on bag sitting on my lap, dagger accessible. “We may be in some danger.”

The plane started taxiing to the runway and Candy’s eyes widened. “You think it’s after us.”

“Yes,” I answered, trying to sound calmer than I felt. “It must know about our mission.”

Anger flashed in Candy’s eyes. “Then why did they only send the two of us. Why not send a few of those sluts they call bodyguards to protect us. The way they dress, I’m sure the Alukah would be pestering the guard, and leave us alone.”

Why did Mark and Mary send us alone? To not attract attention, I guess. They certainly couldn’t come to France without causing a firestorm. I had grabbed a London Times while we were waiting for our connecting flight to France, and read that the UK was embroiled in a vote of no confidence against their Prime Minister for supporting Mark and lauding the President of France for condemning him.

“We will be safe,” I lied. “I know more about magic than anyone.”

“Not Lilith,” Candy pointed out. “It was foolish of them to send us without any guards. Fuck they’re idiots!”

I blinked, having never heard Candy say anything bad about Mark and Mary. It was the fear talking. I could see it in her eyes. I felt the same fear gripping my heart with a cold, slimy hand. Candy was right—they should have sent us some protection.

I worried the entire flight to Toulouse. Mary said to call their Chief of Police if we needed any help; she had put him under her control a few days ago when she flew out to France to steal the Mother Superior’s Gift. I would definitely feel better if there were some armed men around. The cops combined with an ointment that would protect against the Alukah’s mesmerizing gaze – if I figured it out right, and there wouldn’t be a way to test it until we were face-to-face with the monster – would go a long way in protecting us.

The ingredients shouldn’t be too hard to find for the ointment: St. John’s wort, a daisy, and some red berries combined with some sort of cream as the base. Then I just had to perform a simple charm and we should be protected from the most dangerous weapon the Alukah possessed. When we landed at Toulouse-Blagnac Airport, I found all the ingredients in the duty free shop – thank God for the all-natural health craze and florists – and I mixed them together, using a cold cream for the base.

I spritzed some of my enchanted perfume on me as we made our way to customs. It was similar to these incense sticks I made for Willow, and would put people into a suggestive frame of mind. One whiff and the Customs Official waved us through even though neither of us had passports. After customs we called the Captain of the Toulouse Police and he sent us two cops for an escort. The sun was just rising when they pulled up in one of those ridiculously tiny, European cop cars.

“I am Michel, this is Francois,” the serious young man said climbing out of the cop car. His eyes were instantly glued to Candy’s cleavage. I couldn’t blame him; she was showing a lot of it and it was very stunning.

Francois was a dark, brooding man, handsome, with a huge grin on his face. He sauntered up to Candy, asking, “Want touch my rooster?” Michel shook his head and muttered something in French. Francois ignored him, continuing, “American ladies love big rooster!”

“What?” Candy giggled.

“My rooster! Is very big!” He held his hands over a foot apart. “My rooster feel great your cat!”

“Come again?” I asked, baffled by what Francois was saying.

“My rooster!” Francois exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing to his crotch. “Ladies love big rooster! Like Black man.”

“You mean your cock? Your penis?” I asked, finally catching his drift.

“Yeah, yeah. My big rooster! It rises every morning. Very straight and crows very much!”

“And cat is our pussies?” Candy asked.

He nodded and I saw Candy give him a considering look then a promising smile. I blinked; Candy wasn’t usually into guys. I gave Francois a second glance and decided that he was handsome enough. Maybe later Candy and I could have some fun. Just because I could make my own cock didn’t mean I stopped craving a nice, hard dick.

“You were told to do whatever we say, right?” I asked them.

“Oui, oui,” Michel nodded.

“Good, rub this ointment under your eyes,” I ordered, holding out the cold cream container.

“Why?” Francois asked, staring askance at the ointment.

“Makes your rooster big,” Candy giggled. “If it’s as big as you say, maybe my hungry cat will eat it.”

Francois’s grin was priceless. He was so eager to rub it on his eyes that I suspected he was a virgin, and his over-the-top flirting was only a mask to hide it. Michel frowned and Candy shook her cleavage at him and he sighed, sniffed the minty concoction, and rubbed it under his eyes muttering something in French. It didn’t sound complimentary. The ointment had a…distinct odor to it. That strong, medicinal smell from the cold cream combined with a sulfurous fume from the charm.

Francois flirted badly with us the entire drive. His understanding of English wasn’t that great and trying to figure out what he meant was a real chore sometimes. The countryside of France was quite beautiful, the roads were lined with ancient hedgerows – walls of green that were older than any city in America – that streaked by as green blurs as Francois drove us at breakneck speed down the country highway. Soon a hill rose up ahead, a pile of rocks looming over the French countryside; Rennes-le-Château perched atop it, like a crown on a rocky giant’s head.

The road up the hill to the town was curvy, winding back and forth like a drunken serpent. Rennes-le-Château was ancient, made of stone buildings that seemed to groan with the centuries. The streets were far too narrow for more than one car to drive down at a time, even one as small as the cop’s vehicle. Francois didn’t care, he barreled down them and forced any oncoming motorist to back out of his way. I was feeling definitely carsick after the bouncy ride across the cobblestone streets, and thrilled when we reached the Church of Mary Magdalene and the ride was over. The Motherhouse loomed behind it, and we got out, walking around the ancient church.

The Motherhouse was as old as the rest of the town. Made of stones fitted together and weathered by centuries of rain, while green creepers crawled up the sides, trying to pry the stones apart. The door was aged wood and bound in iron. It was closed, but not locked.

I cast a warding spell while the cops watched with bemused expressions. Candy was a dear and started flirting with them to keep them out of my way. The Natsar spell – which should keep the Alukah out, as well as any other children of Lilith, minor demons, homunculi, and spirits that might be after us – had to be precisely cast at all four corners of the building.

“Francois, you stay out and watch the door,” I told him. “Don’t invite anyone in.”

“Of course, mademoiselle,” he answered with a bow. “No fear. I protect you with big rooster!”

Candy laughed and patted his groin. “I bet you will.”

Our defenses set, I eagerly headed for the basement followed by Michel and Candy. The cop had his flashlight out, shining ahead, as I raced down the tight, narrow staircase. The basement – reeking of centuries of filth – was full of old cardboard boxes that were stained black with mildew. At the far end was a door made of iron and covered with what appeared to be Paleo-Hebrew characters.

Excitedly I read. They were commands forbidding elohim from entering. Elohim could mean many things, all connected to the spiritual realm. Literally translated it meant ‘gods’ and was often applied to the God of the Old Testament, but could also refer to angels, spirits of the dead, and the pagan gods worshiped by the Israelite enemies.

I touched the metal, feeling the hammer strokes that had beated the metal flat, then traced through the angular script. They must have stamped the characters. The metal was clearly iron and I bet that it was cold iron; probably even meteoric iron. The most powerful metal in dealing with the supernatural has always been iron not worked by heat, and the most readily available source of iron in the ancient world fell from the skies—meteors.

Candy and the French cop watched in curiosity. “Candy, grab the survey equipment from the car.” After the two cops picked us up, we purchased some supplies before we left Toulouse. “Then take scrapings of the walls. I will need a metallurgical analysis.”

“Sure, Sam,” Candy smiled.

I grabbed the digital camera and began to meticulously document the room. Inside there were more spells written on the walls and I felt a giddy feeling bubble up inside me. If I wasn’t their Vizier, I could make a name for myself in the archeological world for this discovery. A shame I could never share it with my peers.

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

Luka – Rennes-le-Château, France

I watched the French cop as he stood bored in front of the Motherhouse from my perch in the ancient oak tree. My target was inside there—Samnag Soun. I could smell her scent thick in the air. I had been watching all day, waiting, pondering.

My fangs itched to sink into Sam’s olive throat and drink my fill of her life, but first I had to deal with the Natsar ward and then her guards. I did not have my sister Cora’s brute strength. I could smell the ointment from here that protected all of them from my gaze, and I could be overpowered by the two cops if I wasn’t careful. As the day wore on the cop guarding the front door grew more and more bored. The sun would be setting soon, and his attention would only worsen with time.

Finally, the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the sky darkened to a deep purple-black. Thunder rumbled in the distance; a storm approached. I slipped out of the tree and boldly walked down the path to him. I shaped my hair into a form-fitting bodysuit. It hugged every lush curve of my body and I felt the French cop’s gaze fall on me and the lust burning in his eyes.

I didn’t need my gaze to deal with a horny man.

He said something in French. It was musical, poetry given sound, and utterly meaningless to me. I just smiled as sultry as possible and exaggerated the roll of my hips even more. He kept speaking in French as I stepped up in front of him just on the other side of the Natsar’s boundary and boldly looked him up and down.

“I love cops,” I purred. Thunder rumbled behind me, the wind picking up as dark storm clouds swept over the hill.

Candy Garnett

I was bored.

Sam was having fun taking her measurements and notes and all that academic shit. She was talking about the days and days it would take to her to record it all and analysis it. She was positively giddy.

I could only fidget and watch her work, trying to pay attention so I could help her out, but she seemed to be lost in her world of discovery. On top of the boredom, there was the dull fear aching my heart. An Alukah may be hunting us; sure we were safe inside the Natsar, but I couldn’t shake the unease writhing like an eel in my stomach. Anger burned in me that Mark and Mary would send us out here by ourselves. Sam was the most important person in maintaining their power and they didn’t give her half the respect she deserved. Sam should be running things, in my opinion, not kowtowing to those two idiots that were forever blundering into one disaster after another.

Sam should make her own pact with Lucifer.

I was scared to bring it up to her – it was such a seditious idea – but she could be so much more if she just had a little bit more ambition to go with her intelligence. With my help Sam would one day show the world just how smart and powerful she really is.

In the meantime, I was bored.

Michel was as bored as I was, leaning against a moldy cardboard box. He was cute, with dark eyes and hair. And incredibly shy. I’ve always preferred the ladies, but there have been times when a guy was cute enough to attract my interest. I loved the shy ones. They always let me be the aggressive one—the one in charge.

I glanced at Sam; she was lost in her work and I felt an itch growing between my thighs. Maybe Michel could help me out.

“It must be so hard to be a cop,” I cooed, sidling up to Michel. I thrust out my chest, making sure he had a nice view down my cleavage. I lightly touched his wrist and he flushed, looking uncomfortable. “All those long hours. I bet your girlfriend just hates it.”

He shifted. “No girl,” he muttered.

“Really? With those dark eyes? I thought you would have to hold the ladies at bay with a stick! I love a guy with dark, brooding eyes.” I leaned in, fluttering my eyes at him, sliding my hand up his arm and giving his bicep a squeeze. “And so strong! What woman wouldn’t love to have you?”

“I…um…” he muttered something in French. “I should be guard.”

“Francois is watching the entrance,” I told him, stroking his arm. “Besides, you can watch and talk at the same time.” This time I let my breast press against his arm.

“This isn’t…um…” he paused, searching for the right word, “…appropriate. I am working.”

“And what are we doing that is so inappropriate?” I grinned, pressing my body against his side, my hand rubbing his chest. I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “We’re just talking, Michel.”

He went rigid, and tried to jerk away. I grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t be so stiff. I’m not going to bite.” I paused, smiling coquettishly. “Much.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead and he glanced at Sam. “What about your boss? You are helping, no?”

“She won’t mind.” His chin was rough with stubble as I kissed his cheek. I moved closer and closer to his lips. He was an okay kisser, his lips dry. He froze at first, then I felt him relax, kissing me back, his hands gently resting on my hips. I broke the kiss. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked, panting; a foolish grin on his face.

“I thought I heard something upstairs. In one of the bedrooms. We should check it out.”

He swallowed, “Yeah.”

He followed along after me like a little puppy. I felt his cute, dark eyes on my ass as I swayed it in front of him. I glanced back at him, smiled invitingly, and twirled a strand of cotton-candy blue hair around my finger, then I dashed up the narrow stairs, giggling.

He chased me.

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

Luka

“American lady?” the French cop asked as I stood before him, his eyes filled with lust as he took in my lush body covered by a form-fitting bodysuit I made with my hair.

I nodded. “Your accent is so sexy.”

“You want see my rooster. Is very big!” He held out his hands a good two feet apart. “Most big rooster you see!”

I was utterly confused about what he was talking about until he rubbed at his crotch. I could see the hard bulge forming there. “Umm, I like big cocks,” I purred. “Why don’t we slip inside and you can show it to me. I’ll introduce it to my hungry pussy.”

He suddenly got flustered, his flirtatious bravado evaporating. He’s never had a woman respond like that, I realized. I could sense the inexperience that his outrageous confidence was trying to mask.

“Come on, big boy,” I continued to purr, running my hands down my body. “Invite me in and you can show me just how big it is.”

He threw a nervous look over his shoulder, swallowing. “I am on…eh…job.”

“So?” I asked, my hands rubbing my crotch and sending a delicious thrill through my damp pussy. “No-one will know if we fool around for a little while. You won’t be disappointed when your rooster meets my pussy.”

He swallowed, his resolve wavering.

“I love to pet and stroke roosters,” I purred. “With my hands…and with other parts of my body.”

Lust won out over duty. “Yes! Come in.”

The barrier was gone; I had my invitation, and I pounced. My lips found his, kissing him, as I pushed him back inside the door. I pressed him up against the wall, our lips hungrily tasting each other, while I rubbed his cock, feeling his cock swell beneath his pants. I kissed down to his throat, feeling his heart’s blood pumping through his veins, and bit hard.

He struggled as my fangs pierced his carotid artery and his life pumped hot into my lips. It was a vital flood, brimming with energy. I couldn’t swallow fast enough and the blood poured down my chin and neck, rolling down my body to puddle stickily on the floor. It was wonderful, rich and salty, flowing with primal energy. Never had I felt so alive, so full of power. His blood charged me, a battery filled to capacity—I never should have denied myself with the girl in the bathroom.

I let his dead weight fall to the floor and bent down and drew his handgun.

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

Candy Garnett

Michel chased me giggling into a bedroom.

It was barely more than a closet. A cell, really, than a proper bedroom. A small bed with a hard-looking mattress and a battered dresser. The window was narrow and the cold, night air flowed in through a gap between the frame and the wall where the ancient mortar had eroded away. These poor nuns had to live like this? No wonder they had caused so many problems; I’d be cranky too.

I kissed Michel, thrusting my tongue into his lips, then pushed him down onto the bed. “Strip,” I ordered him.

He began to fumble with his buttons and froze as I pulled my top off, freeing my round breasts. I smiled and shook my tits at him. He muttered in French and started unbuttoning faster. His shirt and white undershirt came off exposing a muscular chest covered with thick, coarse black hair. I grimaced; I hated a hairy guy, but I was too horny to stop now. His pants and his striped boxers came off; he had an average-sized cock, uncircumcised, the red tip peaking out of its hood like a curious snake peaking out of its burrow.

I lifted up my skirt, exposing my shaved pussy to his gaze. “Eat me, stud!”

He knelt before me, his hands reaching around to grab my ass, and pulled me to his lips. His whiskers were rough on my thighs as he buried his mouth in my pussy. His tongue was stiff as it slid through my labia, but he knew just where to lick and I cooed in pleasure.

“You taste sweet,” Michel moaned.

“That’s why they call me Candy,” I giggled. I grabbed his hair and shoved his mouth back into my cunt. “Don’t stop licking until I explode on your face!”

I shuddered in pleasure as his lips sucked on my clit, sending lightning pleasure flashing through my body. Still holding his hair, I started grinding my pussy on his face. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, while inside my cunt rippled with passion.

The storm’s having an orgasm, I thought, just like me.

“Lick me!” I groaned as the small orgasm peeled through me. I wanted more, and his tongue was building me up to a crescendo of pleasure. “Umm, I’m gonna flood your face. You’re going to drown in my sweet syrup!”

That sweet feeling was jolting through my body as my large orgasm grew closer and closer. I was so near that wonderful peak. His tongue was probing my cunt, nose rubbing against my clit when my orgasm crashed into me like a hurricane slamming into the shore, whipping pleasure throughout my body. I moaned, my back arching, as that glorious climax surged like a storm-driven wave through me. I rode high on the rapture, staring out the tiny window, watching the lightning flashing orgasmically.

A woman’s face was in the window, fiery-red hair lit up by the lightning, something dark staining her lips.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, leaping away, my heart thundering in fear. “There!” I tried to say more, but my tongue was tied with fear and all I could do was point at the window.

“What?” Michel asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Face!” I gasped out, still rapidly pointing.

Michel stood up and opened the window, sticking his head out. There was another flash of lightning and then the rain, driven by a gusting wind, came down in a hammering sheet against the side of the building. Michel peered around. “We are on the second floor. There is no trees or ledge for person to stand.”

“There’s nothing out there?” I asked, finally gathering my thoughts as my fear receded. Had it just been my imagination? A mere manifestation of the dull fear of the Akula that had plagued me all day?

“No,” he answered, walking back to me with his hard cock pointing at me. “I think it is your turn to…” His voice trailed off and he shouted, “Merde!” then dived for his clothes.

I spun around and there was the woman I saw in the window. She was naked, the dark-red stains that covered her face and breasts were unmistakable—blood. The room filled with a coppery, nauseating scent as the woman aimed her gun at Michel. I jumped; the gun barked. Michel yelled in pain, blood blossoming on his chest as he struggled to pull his gun out of the tangle of his clothes. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, he fell to the floor.

Before I could even react, the woman pointed the gun at me and fired. I jumped as everything went blue around me; the bronze protective amulet I wore about my neck worked, deflecting the bullet.

“That is a neat trick,” the woman purred, walking towards me.

I backed away, fear hammering in my chest. There was nowhere I could go. She blocked the only exit. The wind gusted into the room, driving wet rain into my back – stinging cold – and causing the woman’s fiery-red hair to swirl around her like flames.

The window was open.

I didn’t think—I just turned and jumped.

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

Sam Soun

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

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

I frowned; Candy and Michel were gone. The girl had been making calf-eyes at him all day instead of helping me. Fear nibbled at my stomach, so I reached into my bag and pulled out the bronze, enchanted knife, and walked cautiously out of the Matmown.

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

No-one answered; my heart thudded in my chest.

“Francois? Michel?”

I reached the stairs, walking slowly up the stone runners pitted with age, trying to hear any noise over the howl of the storm and the crash of lightning—and the hammering of my heart. I reached the first floor and glanced at the entrance. My breath caught—there was Francois lying slumped to the floor, his throat torn out, dark blood pooling around his body.

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

I felt something tickle the back of my neck like someone was watching me. I whirled around to see a form flying at me. I panicked, thrusting the knife blindly before me. I saw a woman’s face – eyes wild, mouth open and full of sharp teeth – a moment before she slammed into me. We fell to the floor in a tangled heap; I barely felt the stones bruise my hip. The air sizzled and the Alukah’s scream was inhuman. I pushed her off of me and my dagger was ripped out of my sweaty grip as I scrambled away. The monster rose up, naked, drenched in blood. Please, please don’t be Candy’s blood! Lodged in her shoulder, surrounded by blackening flesh, was the copper blade.

“Ohh, you will pay for that, Samnag Soun,” the Alukah hissed. “I will slowly drain every drop of blood while you beg for mercy!” She grasped the hilt and wrenched the knife free, dropping it to the ground and stalking towards me.

I was going to die. I thrust my wrist forward and unleashed the wind stored in my bracelet. It slammed into the Alukah, hurling her back like a rag-doll caught in the winds of the hurricane and slamming her heavily into a stone wall. I didn’t wait to see what happened to her, I just turned and ran down the hallway away from the monster.

Behind me I could hear vicious snarling. I reached a wooden door, slamming into it. I grasped at the old hinge and forced it open, darting through it into a kitchen. There were no other doors leading out. Shit! I looked around wildly, grabbing a thick knife from a wooden block, and ducked behind a heavy, wood table.

“I can smell you,” the Alukah purred as she burst into the kitchen. “Your coppery blood pumping in your veins, the salt of your sweat beading on your skin, the honey between your legs weeping from your cunt.” She was in the kitchen, I could see her feet as she walked by the table. “You could die screaming in pleasure. Would you like that?”

Please don’t find me! I tried to hold my breath; I needed to be quieter than a mouse as I watched the feet stalk around the kitchen. A desperate plan flashed through my mind. She was heading to the far side of the kitchen. I would have to make a run for it.

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

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

The table was thrown aside and the Alukah stared down at me with hungry eyes. I lunged with the butcher knife, stabbing her right in the heart. She grabbed my arm with one hand and plucked the knife out of her breast with the other, tossing it contemptuously to the floor. It was stainless steel, not enchanted or made of cold iron, and was completely ineffective against spiritual flesh.

I was dead.

She licked my wrist and I struggled to break her grip. She sank her fangs into my flesh.

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

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

She pushed me to the floor and I spread my thighs for her. I wanted her to taste me, to drink my blood. I wanted to feel that pleasure even if it killed me! My pussy ached with desire. Her tongue licked through my cunt and I arched my back. Her tongue was hot, her lips sucking at my clit. She sent her tongue probing every fold of my flower, and my orgasm exploded through me.

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

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

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

Her mouth opened, her teeth were sharp on my thigh. I squirmed, I couldn’t wait to feel this pleasure. I moaned as the sharp, agonizing rapture of her teeth began to penetrate my skin, slowly driving towards the artery. I groaned, squeezing my nipples. I was going to die experiencing the greatest pleasure of my life! My body burned to feel it, I didn’t care what happened to me. Nothing mattered, not even my beautiful Candy.

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

The Alukah’s scream was unearthly pain, back arching up and her teeth releasing my flesh mere centimeters from reaching my artery. She flopped off me, smoke rising from her back, as she sprawled and spasmed on the stone floor of the kitchen in pain, writhing like a spider missing a few legs. Standing above her was a limping Candy, completely drenched, her right leg twisted, broken.

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

The Alukah was shriveling black, like a corpse drying out in the desert, mummifying. Her body gave one last spasm, then her screams cut off into a sibilant whisper. A bronze dagger gleamed in her back – the one I stabbed the monster with and she dropped in the hallway, I realized – half the blade sunk into the foul corpse’s back.

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

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

The end.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 38: Shamans

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 38: Shamans

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Male/Females, Mind Control, Magic, Oral, Humiliation, Violence, Death

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 37.



Sunday, September 29th, 2013 – Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA

Sunday passed in a haze of pain.

I woke from the dream with Azrael back into the torment of my battered body. I hauled myself to my feet, ignoring the protest of my muscles, and staggered to the sink accompanied by the clank of my manacles. I bent down and greedily drank the cool water from the tap, bringing momentary relief to the stump of my tongue. My stomach ached and rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, I realized. That seemed like a lifetime ago. I closed my eyes and remembered Mary napping naked on our bed as I quietly slipped out; she had been hugging a pillow, her auburn hair draped about her neck and shoulders. She had looked so beautiful and peaceful; I would give anything – and I mean anything – to see my wife again.

Morning, Mary, I sent to her. We were connected telepathically now by the Siyach spell.

How are you? Mary sent back, her thoughts full of love and concern.

I’ve been better. I tried to keep the pain from bleeding into my sending. Azrael visited me last night. She’s teaching me to use my other powers.

I have a plan, Mark, she sent excitedly, and proceeded to explain. She was flying to France, to steal the Mother Superior’s Gift, to become a Nun and exorcise Brandon. It was so risky, so desperate, but what choice did we have? Killing Brandon was out of the question. He had to have tens of thousands of people under his power by now, all their life-forces bound to him. If he died, they would all die. I could not have so much blood on my hands—or on her hands.

When the soldiers came for me, my body was too sore to fight. Resigned to my fate, I let them drag me off, my manacles clinking. The rest of the day was pain. Never-ending pain. The only thing that I could cling to as they beat me was my wife. My Mary. I pictured her smiling at me; I remembered how beautiful she looked while painting, the day we found out she was pregnant, and the cute way she bit her lip while thinking. I clung to the memory of how radiant she looked on our wedding day, marching down the aisle to me in her white dress set aflame by the setting sun. Mary helped me survive the day by constantly sending her love and encouragement.

She gave me hope. Just knowing she was out there kept me sane.

Sometime during the beatings, in the afternoon I thought, Mary sent, I did it! The Gift is mine! Just hold out a little longer!

After the eternity of suffering, I was dragged back to the prison shower and my filth was hosed off me; then it was back to my cell. The soldiers threw me roughly onto the hard, concrete floor, locked the cell door, then watched with uncaring eyes. I didn’t have the strength to move; I just laid there, letting the cold seep into my burning muscles. Mary was on her way back, on her way to save me. Hope filled me. My wife was coming, she was going to exorcise Brandon, and this nightmare would be over. I struggled to rise, but all my muscles protested the action and I collapsed back onto the concrete floor. Not caring anymore, I stopped fighting my exhaustion and let unconsciousness take me.

Azrael visited me in my dreams, to continue my training. Last night, I learned just how woeful I was at combat. Azrael had explained it: “The Gift gives you reflexes and strength, but your body needs to learn how to move, how to stand and balance, and that takes practice.”

So we spent last night training. She taught me footwork, the most important part of fighting. If you can’t stand properly, you’ll be off-balance, get tripped up, and fall down or leave yourself open to your enemy’s attack. I spent hours learning just how to hold the blade, then more hours swinging it in deadly arcs: cross-slashes, thrusts, overhand swings. Finally, we sparred. Every time her blade struck my body, the pain taught me to pay more attention, to learn faster, to fight better. We fought and fought, never tiring, and I learned. My muscles absorbed the knowledge; I started moving with grace and purpose, not flailing about without any thought or care. Every movement of my body was deliberate, full of purpose—to defeat my opponent.

After training for hours, for maybe even a full day, I finally asked Azrael when I would wake up. “Time passes more slowly in the dream,” she answered. “What seems like minutes in your mind is only seconds in the waking world.”

“Like Inception?” The Angel gave me a puzzled look, her scarlet eyebrows furrowing. “It’s a movie. All about dreams.” She just stared at me. “Never mind,” I muttered, and we continued our sparring.

We moved on to hand-to-hand fighting. She taught me a brutal mix of grappling, kicks, and punches. It wasn’t like kung-fu in movies. There were no flourishes, no dramatic arm waves or kicks; every single attack was designed to hurt your opponent. She taught me to go for the body’s weak points: knees, groin, elbows, sides, throat, eyes. Break bones, dislocate joints, rupture vital organs, and do it as quickly as possible to end the fight before your enemy can defeat you.

The dream seemed to last for days before I woke up this morning. When Azrael appeared again to me this night, I asked her, “More sparring?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice ringing bells. “But first, there are other Prayers to teach you.”

“Will they help me to escape?”

“No, but you may find them useful one day,” she answered. A look of disgust flitted across her face. “You’ve bound your Thralls with the Zimmah ritual, yes?”

I nodded. “And? Most of them agreed to it willingly.” I felt defensive beneath her judging gaze.

“I’m sure,” she said with distaste. “The Ragily prayer is similar. It allows you to link a group of willing fighters to you. There is a limit on how many persons you can bond, unlike the Zimmah ritual. However, those you bind in this way gain certain advantages when fighting the supernatural.”

“Like what?”

“The ability to hurt them. Their weapons will be capable of harming spiritual flesh. Their reflexes will be sharper, they can take wounds that would fell lesser men. It also doesn’t have such a…distasteful way of being cast.”

“You mean I wouldn’t have to fuck my mother to bind them?” I asked with a laugh, and quickly swallowed it beneath her withering gaze.

“Yes. It merely requires their pledge of fidelity and obedience.”

“How many could I have?”

“That is a more complex answer,” Azrael answered, tapping her chin in thought. “A normal Priest could handle, say, thirty to fifty. Maybe a hundred with an exceptional Priest, such as King David and his Mighty Men. But you, well, you have bound the life-force of what, fifty or sixty humans to you. Plus, there are all those that worship you. That is a lot of power, if you can harness it.”

I nodded. “What other prayers are there?”

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

Mary Glassner – Southern France

I kept looking in the mirror on the passenger sun visor on the drive back to Toulouse. I barely looked different. Mark’s transformation had been dramatic. Of course, he had been twenty-seven when he received the Gift and more than a little overweight. Now he looked eighteen, and had the body of a Greek sculpture. I was nineteen and already had a trim body. The Gift didn’t seem to change me at all. It didn’t even take a few pounds off my ass. Mark liked the plumpness, but I could stand to lose a pound or two off of it.

I sighed, flipping up the visor; Maryām’s words haunted me. The Devil was using us, not a big surprise, but what he was using us for – to escape his prison – was surprising, and terrifying. The Mother Superior’s words were really sinking in. Mark and I might be responsible for dooming the world. Sure we were unwitting pawns in the Devil’s plans, but that didn’t change the fact that we made our choice. Learning the consequences of our selfish decisions left a bitter taste in my mouth. However, she said we could stop him, trap him. Somehow, we could beat the Devil. I chewed on my lip, thinking about that as we drove to Toulouse.

I had no idea how to do it.

I pushed that particular worry to the side; Brandon was the immediate problem. I had the Gift. I could exorcise him now. I just needed to learn how to do it. Freed of her protection, Maryām was more than willing to answer my questions as she gazed up at me with lust. “Only the Angel can teach you how to use the Prayers. They come in your dreams.” She couldn’t lie, not when I ordered her to answer, not without her Gift to shield her from my powers.

I left her behind. I debated taking the former Nun with me, forcing her to be my slave and grovel before me. Part of me ached to see that beautiful, ancient woman degrade herself for my pleasure, to watch her dark eyes peer up from between my thighs as she worshiped my pussy. The way she would howl in pleasure as I fucked her from behind with a strap-on cock—or a real cock. I remembered the intense pleasure I experienced that afternoon Lilith transformed my clit into a dick. Shifting in my seat, I flushed and pushed that fantasy down.

In the end, I let Maryām go. It just felt wrong to keep her after hearing Mom’s story about the abuses she suffered at the hands of her Warlock. I just couldn’t bring myself to force anyone to act like that. Well, not permanently, anyways. So I forbade her from ever speaking about our meeting, and told her to live her life.

After an hour, we reached the airport at Toulouse and boarded my plane. I sent everyone to coach; I needed to sleep, to dream. I desperately needed to learn how to exorcise a Warlock. From what my mom has told me, it’s quite the pleasant experience being taught by an Angel. The Ecstasy she called it. As the 747 leveled off at its cruising altitude, heading west for North America, I struggled to sleep in the plush, first-class seat.

I had been up for over twenty-four hours, but I just couldn’t sleep. The harder I tried, the harder sleep eluded me. I leaned the first-class chair back as far as possible, had all the lights in the cabin turned off, and wore ear plugs to try and drown out the engines. But nothing would work. I was too damned stressed to relax. And trying to sleep just made it worse. I grew irritable, snapping at my guards, screaming wordlessly at the ceiling, and sobbing my frustration into a small, airline pillow.

Please! I silently begged. Just let me sleep!

After trying for hours, I felt defeated. I slumped against the window, staring listlessly out at the Atlantic ocean below, an endless sheet of midnight obscured by the occasional cloud. I let my mind drift, and I started pondering Karen’s half-heard message from the summoning yesterday. “Brandon has…” Karen had said, then Sam’s scream had drowned her out and all I caught was the last part. “…other.”

Brandon has…other. What could be in that missing gap. It was only a word or two. Something that rhymed with other? Mother, another, brother. Brandon has…other. What did it mean? What was Karen trying to warn me about? What did it matter if Brandon has a brother? Or has a mother? I started rhyming ‘other’ in my head: aother, bother, cother, dother, eother. I frowned at eother. Most of those weren’t even words. Fother? Gother? Maybe it was smother? Brandon has smother? No, that didn’t make any sense.

Brandon has…other. Brandon has brother?

I frowned. Brother. Was there something to that? Was there a spell that required a brother? It was getting harder to think. I was so exhausted, my mind felt like mush, battered by stress and fear until my brain was runny porridge. I felt like there was a spell that required a brother. What was it? I yawned, struggling to force my brain to work. Brother…brother…rother…er…

The next thing I knew I was standing in a vast emptiness, a black darker than night. I saw Mark, a golden sword in his hand, and gold armor covering his body. He was fighting a woman with scarlet hair and bronze skin. The woman also had a golden sword that flashed with rubies as she swung it at my husband. I blinked. This can’t be happening. I was on a plane, right? Flying over the Atlantic.

No, I’m dreaming. Relief swept through me; I had finally fallen asleep. Something teased at my thoughts, a single word—Brother. Why was brother so important? I bit my lip, straining to remember. It had something to do with a spell.

“Mary?” Dream-Mark asked. There was a look of surprise on his face and I lost my train of thought.

The woman turned, mirroring his look of surprise. “Two Shamans,” she whispered, her voice soft chimes.

Dream-Mark ran to me, swept me up in his arms and kissed me. Everything – all the stress and the fear and the guilt – melted away and there was only Mark, his lips, and his love overwhelming me. I poured my heart and soul into the kiss. I didn’t care that it was only a dream. It felt so real. So wonderful. I was breathless and giggling with joy when Dream-Mark broke his kiss. I pressed my face into his muscular chest. His armor had vanished sometime during our kiss. Well, it was a dream and strange things are bound to happen.

“You’re actually in my dreams,” Dream-Mark whispered in awe.

“No, you’re in my dreams,” I giggled. “I mean, I’m the one dreaming.”

Dream-Mark laughed, turning to the bronze woman. “It is her, right, Azrael?”

“Yes,” she said. “This is…surprising.” I glanced at the Angel as she studied us, eying me, then peering intently at Mark. “Yes, I see it now. You two are soulmates. Many Pacts and spells have bound the pair of you so tight, nothing can ever part you. It is how you came here without being summoned. Your desire to be trained was so strong that you were drawn to Mark’s soul, pulled along by the chains that bind you together.”

I smiled. Soulmates, that sounded lovely, but that wasn’t why I was here. “Yes, I need to learn how to perform the exorcism.”

Azrael cocked her head as she considered me. “You have received the Gift from Maryām.” Her red eyes turned flinty, a low, angry clang filled her ringing voice. “No, you stole her Gift.”

“I needed it,” I replied, lifting my chin. Who was this woman to judge my actions. I returned her flinty stare. “It’s the only way to stop Brandon. We can’t kill him, all the people under his control are bound to him and they’ll die. Exorcising him is the only way, and I can’t wait for a Nun to take her sweet time doing it! So stop the condescending lecture and train me!”

“I will train you,” Azrael sighed. “It is my Providence.” She reached out, taking my hand. Pleasure coursed through me, just like when Lilith would touch me, and I gasped as an orgasm rippled pleasantly through my body. “I must lie with you,” Azrael continued. “Only while we delight in each other’s pleasure, can I teach you.”

“Wait, why do you two get to fuck?” Mark asked. “You just swung swords at me?”

“Her powers involve sex, yours involves force. I trained you with force. Mary must be trained in more pleasant ways.”

“And the first time you appeared in my dreams and fucked me?” Mark demanded.

“That was for my pleasure,” Azrael answered. “Why else would I bother with you humans?” She turned to me. “Lie down.”

I eagerly lay down and the emptiness turned soft, becoming more comfortable than any bed. Azrael floated over me and her tunic vanished into gold smoke, revealing her lush body. Her hanging breasts silkily brushed down my body as she floated closer and closer to me; her hips lowered and I spread my legs. I gasped as her pussy rubbed against my cunt, a powerful orgasm exploding through me. She kissed me, and my entire body became pleasure as she slowly started moving her hips, tribbing our drenched pussies together. When our clits kissed, my third orgasm crashed through me.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” I gasped. “Oh, that feels amazing!”

“Most of the basic Priestess prayers require the Mark of Qayin to anchor the prayer,” the Angel explained, continuing her slow, delicious trib. “It is drawn with the fluids of your womanhood on the forehead of the person you are wishing to affect.”

“Okay!” I moaned, writhing beneath Azrael as her pussy ground against mine. Her nipples were diamonds rubbing against my breasts, leaving trails of ecstasy.

“It is drawn like this,” her finger tracing a circle with a diagonal line slashing through it on my forehead. “Once you’ve drawn the Mark, a variety of Prayers can be used, including the Shalak prayer. The exorcism.” Azrael kissed my lips. She tasted of ambrosia and I was lost to the pleasure of her body pressing against mine. “Umm, you taste delicious,” she purred, grinding her clit through my pussy slit, moving it up to bump sweetly against my hard pearl.

“Oh my God!” I moaned as my fourth orgasm swept through me. “You’re driving me wild, Azrael.”

“To exorcise a Warlock, you need to bring him or her to orgasm,” Azrael continued, grinding her angelic cunt just a little harder into me and I gasped. “Before he cums, or as he cums, you must draw the Mark of Qayin on his forehead. Then, when he cums, you utter, Shalak. You can draw the Mark at the same time you cast the prayer, or you can draw it beforehand. But, it will not work without the Mark.”

“Okay!” I moaned. “Keep fucking me with your cunt! Oh fuck! Shit, you’re driving me wild! Oh my God! Keep fucking me!” Another orgasm exploded through me, my toes curling, my fingers raking her bronze back.

Azrael kept grinding on me. “The other Prayers only affect Thralls.”

“What about the ones used on Mark’s sister and my friend, Alice?”

“You shouldn’t need those,” Azrael answered. “Not with your other powers.”

She was kissing me again, her tongue snaking into my mouth. I bucked beneath her as I came again. Her every touch just seemed to inflame my lusts, driving me to stronger and stronger orgasms. This was Ecstasy, pure, never-ending pleasure. Then we were rolling over and I was on top. It was my turn to fuck her, and I ground my pussy hard against her angelic cunt.

Another set of hands touched my ass, a hard cock prodded my pussy, then slid inside me. “Oh, Mark!” I gasped as my husband started fucking me. “Fuck me hard! Your naughty filly needs to be ridden badly!”

Mark pounded me, driving my pussy against Azrael. “I miss you so much!” Mark groaned and I could feel his cum shooting inside me. It felt wonderful as I shared this amazing pleasure with my husband, my soulmate. We were lost together in the Ecstasy. There was only the intense pleasure we shared. Just flesh pressing against flesh, driving each other to new heights of passion.

For an eternity we swam through a sea of pleasure. There were no thoughts, no distractions. We weren’t even individuals, just sensations trapped in flesh. And for the briefest instant, it was only Mark and I, so close I could not tell where I began and Mark ended. Our souls touched, merged, and I felt the purity of Mark’s love for me.

One instant of perfect joy.

When I returned to myself, I lay on my side, cradled in Mark’s strong arms. He pressed against my back, spooning against me. I didn’t want this dream to end. I just wanted to stay in his arms forever, safe and sound. I snuggled back against my husband and stroked his arm. Mark nuzzled my neck, his lips gentle. I smiled and sighed happily.

Then I realized he was trembling and I heard a muffled sob. I rolled over; his face red and tears streamed down. I stroked his cheek and he crushed me tightly to his chest. “What is it?” I asked him gently.

“I’m afraid to wake up, Mare.” There was so much pain in his blue eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“I’m coming for you,” I told him. “You just need to hold out a little longer, Mark.” I bit my lip, fighting back my tears. “I need you to be strong for me, Mark. If you fall apart, I’m going to lose it. I’m barely holding it together.”

I felt Mark tense. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and took a few, deep breaths, before I felt the tension bleed from him. “Thank you,” he whispered. He brushed my cheek and captured my lips with a kiss and held me until we had to wake. We drew strength from each other. Neither one of us was strong enough to face this problem. Together, however, we could overcome anything, accomplish anything. Together we would defeat Brandon.

Mark woke first.

I was alone. I wanted to cry. They were going to start beating him again. He just needed to last a little while longer and it would be over.

I stood up, looking around the emptiness. Azrael was still here, I realized with a start, standing a discreet distance away. I walked over to her, the emptiness turning firm once again beneath my feet. I had more to learn from the Angel and planted myself squarely before her.

“My mom told me about the Cathar prayer. Can you teach it to me?”

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

Emi, the Dimme – Seattle, WA

“Go swiftly, my daughters,” Mother commanded Di and myself.

My twin sister and I were kneeling before her, staring up at her radiant beauty. She had a lush body and silvery hair and the most beautiful face in all the world. She was Lilith, Mother of Monster. Lilith of the Empty Womb and the Black Moon, and we loved her with all our hearts.

“Kill the false Gods Brandon Fitzsimmons and Mark Glassner!” Mother’s face burned with anger as she said the hated name.

Mark Glassner.

My hands itched to touch him, to kill him and watch as he falls lifeless to the ground. Di and I would become Mother’s favorites then. She would love us more than all her other children; our reward would be her touch, the Ecstasy. I glanced at my sister, remembering our fumbling experiments this afternoon as we entered puberty. If Mother’s touch felt half as good as Di’s mouth felt on my pussy, I would kill a hundred men for her. A thousand!

“We will not fail you, Mother,” I promised.

“I know you won’t, Emi,” Mother answered, her fingers electric as she caressed my face, delight erupting in my nethers for a brief moment as she gave me a taste of the Ecstasy. I shuddered; I would kill a million men for Mother. “Go!” she commanded.

Di and I rose and went ethereal. We were Dimme, more spirit than beings. At will our spirit bodies would take over, allowing us to skirt the Veil between the Mortal World and the Abyss. We could be seen, appearing translucent, or we could pass unseen. While we walked the border, we were no longer bound to the Mortal World and could pass through objects, like the wall of this warehouse.

We traveled south, speeding over the miles. South to the City of Tacoma. It would take us all night and into Monday to cross the distance, but we do not tire. We do not fail. Our Mother’s enemies would be dead at our hands.

We are Dimme. We do not fail.

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

Monday, September 30th, 2013 – Mary Glassner – Seattle, WA
“Everyone take your seats, we’re beginning our approach,” Joslyn’s voice crackled over the 747’s PA. “We’ll be on the ground by 12:17 PM.”

I swallowed and hoped she would be careful. I used the Cathar prayer to cloak the plane with invisibility. The US Airspace was still closed by Brandon, and it was tense as we flew across the country, but apparently we did not even show up on radar. Still, I was terrified that some plane was going to blunder into us.

We’re landing, Mark I sent. Just hold on a little longer!

Hurry, Mare! There was so much pain and misery in his sending, I had to bite my lip to keep from being overwhelmed. He was on his third straight day of beatings. He couldn’t last much longer.

I gripped the armrest as we dropped lower and lower, my heart hammering in my chest with a sudden rush of nerves. We were invisible, no-one could see us landing. Please, please let no-one drive out onto the runway. I looked out the window and watched as the ground seemed to rush up at us. The flaps were coming down, the airplane was slowing. And then the jarring impact and the sudden, roaring deceleration as we touched down at Boeing Field in southern Seattle.

Mark and I had a private hanger at Boeing field, and Joslyn and Lynda maneuvered our plane safely towards it. No-one was about, luckily. The hanger belonged to Cargo-Air, owned by a billionaire we knew. Brandon shouldn’t know about this. Hopefully.

I glanced out the porthole window and didn’t see any soldiers guarding the airport. Guarding our hanger. Our maintenance crews were waiting, opening the huge doors. They were all worshipers that volunteered to be bound to Mark with the Zimmah spell. I could see them staring around apprehensively. They could hear the plane’s engines, but not see it. Once we were safely in the hanger, and the doors closed, I released the prayer.

A stair truck was maneuvered to the side of the airplane, and I walked down it to an awaiting SUV. I got into the black suburban alone. I wasn’t going to let any more of my followers get captured. If the plan worked, Brandon’s power would be broken. If it failed, it wouldn’t matter how many bodyguards I took. We were hopelessly outnumbered by the US Military.

“Good luck, ma’am,” 47, the second-in-command of the bodyguards, wished me.

I pulled off my silver locket and my wedding band and handed it to her through the rolled-down window. The only thing I wore was my bronze amulet that protected me from bullets. “Keep these safe for me.” I fought back tears as I handed over my two most prized possessions; if this went badly, I didn’t want Brandon to get his hands on them.

“Absolutely,” she answered, then bent through the open window of the SUV and kissed me on the lips. “For luck.”

My bodyguards and other servants all watched me depart in silence. I used a keycard to get out of the airport and got onto I-5 heading south. There was almost no traffic. It was noon on a Monday and the freeway was disturbingly deserted. I sped south and in thirty minutes I drove through the City of Fife approaching Tacoma. There was a roadblock set up at the Port of Tacoma exit. Three Humvees and a Stryker blocked the highway. There were a dozen soldiers in desert camo manning a barbwire barricade set up in front of the vehicles. Two large machine-guns on tripods anchored the barricade on either side, pointing right at my SUV.

I slowed to a stop fifty feet away. I could see their auras, black fringed with red. Thralls immune to my power. Taking a deep breath, I turned off the SUV as the soldiers approached with their weapons pointed at me, barking loud commands. Cautiously I stepped out, my hands over my head. The soldiers leered at my naked body, and I held my head up proudly, staring boldly at the soldiers.

“I am Mary Glassner. Take me to Brandon.” I paused, then, pretending to be under Brandon’s powers, cooed, “I’m ready to be his concubine.”

The sergeant commanding the road block, older than the fresh-faced soldiers, grabbed my arm and marched me to a Humvee. He placed me in the back, then he and another soldier hopped in, started the vehicle and turned it around, and started driving towards Tacoma.

I’m almost there, Mark, I sent, trying to keep my fear out of the thought.

All I got back was a feeling of pain. I tried to keep the panic out of my heart. Please be okay, Mark!

It took only ten or so minutes to reach the Courthouse. Instead of taking me inside the Courthouse, they took me to the County Jail next door. My heart started hammering in fear. Did something go wrong? Why weren’t they taking me to Brandon? According to the news, the Courthouse was his headquarters.

I tried to appear calm as they walked me into the jail. The first security gate had been blown open and I saw bullet casings littering the floor and blood staining the walls. The soldiers led me deeper and we had to be buzzed through more security gates that were still intact. I was unnerved to see all the jail cells empty and I wondered what happened to the inmates. The last security gate I passed through opened onto the exercise yard at the center of the jail.

A mass of women huddled in the middle of the yard. They looked numb with terror. I scanned their faces, hoping to recognize any of the bodyguards, or Violet and Leah. I thought I saw Leah, our chauffeur, huddled with 51 and 27. I didn’t see any of the other bodyguards or Violet. 51 glanced at me, despair flickering across her ebony face.

At the other end of the yard, Brandon sat on a raised chair, like a throne, surrounded by a group of naked women that fawned over him. I knew from watching the news that Desiree was one of them. I looked for her, and saw her kneeling on Brandon’s right. She seemed a willing servant of his and I wasn’t sure how that was possible. Did Brandon find a way to break the Zimmah bond? Or did he just break her?

Then my eyes fell on Mark. I almost didn’t recognize him. His entire body was a bruise, mottled from head to foot with dark purples, that faded to browns and sickly yellows. His face was swollen and he bled from numerous cuts on his brow. One of his blue eyes found mine, the other swollen shut. He was manacled hand and foot to a post and lay sprawled on the concrete ground. My heart broke and I had to fight off my tears. Now was not the time, I needed to be strong.

The soldiers pushed their way through the women huddled in the center, leading me to Brandon. He had grown younger and fitter since he had captured Mark. How had he done that? Did he make a second Pact with the Devil? Brandon called it a miracle when he allowed himself to be interviewed last night, more proof of his Divinity. But that wasn’t possible. No, I bet he made a Pact with another demon.

“Ahh, Mary Glassner, you have finally succumbed to my charms, right?” Brandon smiled.

“How could I not?” I asked, trying to sound as enchanted with him as possible. He needed to believe I was under his power. “You are a God, and I am helpless before your masculinity. I love you! Let me be your concubine!”

I could feel his gaze roam my naked body as I knelt before him; I felt dirty as I let the pig’s eyes feast on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mark, and I drew strength from him. I could endure this humiliation, I could endure anything, to save him.

I love you, be strong! I fiercely sent to my husband and I saw him stir.

Brandon stood up, unbuckling his pants. His cock was hard, the tip an angry red. “Show me just how much you love me!”

I can endure anything for Mark! I crawled to him, trying not to wince as my knees scraped on the concrete. Mark had experienced far more pain in the last three days; I could endure a scraped knee. I reached the pig, his cock waving in front of me. His dick was almost as long as Mark’s, but lacked my husband’s girth. I grasped it with one hand, slowly stroking it, suppressing a disgusted shudder.

“I would love to feel your cock inside my naughty pussy,” I purred.

Brandon laughed, “Your wife is quite the slut, eh Mark! It’s not surprising, she’s finally seen a real cock. Why don’t you suck me off first, whore!”

“Gladly,” I lied, then opened my mouth and sucked his cock into my lips. I would give him the best blowjob I could. The faster he came, the faster I could exorcise him.

He pulled it out of my mouth. “Whose cock is bigger?”

“Yours, my Lord!” I cooed. “I can’t wait to feel it in my naughty cunt!”

He shoved it roughly back into my mouth, and I swirled my tongue around his cock, before sliding my lips all the way down his shaft. I relaxed my esophagus and deep-throated him, my hands gently cupping his balls. It took all my self-control not to bite down on his cock and crush his nuts between my fingers. I slid my mouth back up, sucking hard, then bobbed a few times, rubbing his cock against the inside of my cheeks.

“Ahh, fuck, she’s a pro at sucking cock!” Brandon moaned. “I hope you’re watching your beautiful wife be my whore, Mark!”

I could hear Mark’s chains rattling, straining. He’ll pay for every word once he’s exorcised! I sent to Mark. Be strong!

I bobbed faster and faster, hoping Brandon would come soon so I could get his disgusting cock out of my mouth. Then he gripped my head hard, and started fucking my face. His cock shoved down my throat. I relaxed, fighting off my instinct to try and break free. I had to keep up this degrading charade until he was exorcised.

“Fucking whore!” Brandon groaned. “Damn your mouth feels great! I’m gonna flood your lips with my cum and you’re gonna drink it down like the good little slut you are!”

His cum disgustingly splashed into my mouth. I couldn’t exorcise with a mouth full of his dick, so I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. I felt ill as his salty cum filled my mouth. His grip never relented and I was forced to swallow his large load. He moaned above me, calling me ‘whore’ and ‘slut’. Finally, he finished, pulling out of my lips and I coughed.

I looked up at him, forcing myself to lick the cum off my lips as sexily as possible. “Thank you, my Lord. I bet my cunt would feel even better on your big, magnificent cock!”

His blow caught me by surprise.

I lay sprawled on the ground, my face burning with pain. I shook my head, blood dripping from my broken nose. What happened? I saw Brandon drawing back his leg to kick my stomach and fear poured through me. He was trying to hurt my baby. I threw myself away, his foot catching my side and I tumbled across the ground, the skin of my hip scraping on the rough concrete.

“Did you think I was stupid enough to let you fuck me!” Brandon roared. “I know you have the Gift!”

“How!” I coughed.

“Mowdah,” Brandon answered. The spell that let a Warlock see a person’s aura. Mine was bronze now. The aura of a Shaman.

“But you don’t have a sister,” I gasped in a nasally voice as blood poured from my broken nose.

“I have a brother,” Brandon answered, a look of distaste appearing on his face.

I felt so stupid. The Mowdah ritual required a sibling’s sexual juices. Mark and I used our sisters’; we didn’t have a choice, neither of us had a brother. How could I forget that you could also use a brother. Karen’s warning rang in my mind. Brandon has…other!” she had shouted. Sam’s scream had drowned out the middle of Karen’s warning. Brandon has a brother!

She was trying to warn me that my plan was going to fail.

I fought off my panic and glanced at Mark. I saw him concentrating. He was healing himself, but it would take time and it would be obvious. I swallowed; I needed to distract Brandon and everyone else. I had to buy Mark time to heal himself. It was the only chance we had.

“I hope you didn’t wish for that small cock!” I taunted. “I barely felt it in my mouth.”

Brandon sent another kick at me and I shouted, “Owr!” Blinding light erupted between us and Brandon stumbled, his kick missing me.

“Fucking cunt!” Brandon roared, blinking his eyes.

“Desiree told me she had to fake her orgasms when you fucked her!” I continued to taunt him, scrambling up to my feet. “She couldn’t feel your tiny dick inside her! But she never has to fake it with Mark! He has a huge cock!”

The bruises were fading on Mark’s naked body, the swelling on his face slowly going down, and I could see both of his eyes. I just needed to keep Brandon focused on me. I backed away as the pig squinted, his vision starting to come back. With a grunting roar, he lunged at me and tripped, falling forward. Desiree had grabbed his legs, holding him tight. Brandon hit the concrete hard and spat a bloody tooth out. He glared at Desiree, and kicked my slut hard in the face. Crying out in pain, she let go.

Brandon was on his feet, rounding on Desiree. “I thought you knew your place, cunt!” he screamed at the Latina woman, kicking her hard in the stomach.

“That’s mi Reina!” she shouted, defiance burning in her dark eyes as she clutched her stomach.

I moved to help her, but a hand grabbed me from behind. One of the soldiers; his grip crushing-iron as he squeezed my shoulder. Wincing in pain, I reached back, touched his hand, and screamed a single word: “Maveth!”

The soldier fell to the ground, screaming in horror. It was the last thing Azrael taught me before I woke up this morning. Because Azrael was the Angel of Death, she gifted a unique prayer to Shamans. A male Shaman could conjure the dead. A female Shaman could show a person just what awaited them in death; for a Thrall bound with the Zimmah spell, that meant sharing his Warlock’s torment in Hell.

I stepped back from the soldier, unnerved by the terror in his hoarse screaming. Would Mark and I experience that same horror when we died? Surely we are not as evil as Brandon? We do not deserve the same punishment that awaits his vile soul. I looked up at Brandon and he licked his lips nervously. He doesn’t know what I just did. The Maveth prayer wasn’t in the Magicks of the Witch of Endor.

“Anyone who touches me shall receive the same fate!” I warned, staring at Brandon with all the anger and contempt I could muster.

Other soldiers eyed me warily. “Grab her!” Brandon screamed, an edge of hysteria in his voice. A smug feeling bubbled through me. He was scared of me.

Good.

I touched the first soldier who lunged at me, spoke the word, and he fell to the ground in horror. Three more grabbed me. They were all touching my bare skin. It was enough and they fell screaming. A gun cracked; I was enveloped in blue as my amulet deflected a shot. I turned to see the soldier who fired and saw 51 and 27 leap on him; the two captured bodyguards wrestling him to the ground.

Elation surged in me. Brandon’s soldiers were in disarray, and Mark was healing. Everything was swinging into our favor.

“What is going on here!” a voice boomed like an erupting volcano.

I whirled about to see a tall, hulking man entering the exercise yard. Only he wasn’t a man. His eyes glowed like coals, and his skin was black and cracked like cooling lava. The air stank of rotten eggs as the demon strode across the yard. The women huddled in the center of the yard scrambled to get out of his way, pushing and shoving each other in their terror to escape him.

“Molech, I have your next sacrifice!” Brandon bellowed. “Mary Sullivan!”

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

Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA
Panic seized my heart as Molech strode forward.

I had been watching my wife with pride. When her plan fell apart, she didn’t panic and started stalling for time so I could heal myself. She was amazing as she taunted Brandon and fended off his soldiers, and for a moment she seemed to have the upper hand—until Molech arrived like a crashing avalanche. The hulking monstrosity strode closer and closer to my wife. I knew what happened to the women he took; their screams never stopped filling the prison.

I concentrated, willing myself to heal faster, trying to fight down my terror for my wife as Molech strode across the yard.

Mary turned to flee as the demon approached her, sending a soldier who tried to grab her screaming to the ground with a single word. Heal faster! I could feel my tongue starting to regrow, expanding and filling up my mouth. Faster, oh please, faster! Faster! Molech approached Brandon, who watched with a smirk as Mary was backed into a corner, fear shining in her eyes.

Suddenly, Molech’s arm lashed out and seized at nothing, and a woman materialized out of thin air, pale-white and naked. Her hair was whiter than snow, the very absence of any color. Molech had her by the arm, but she did not scream even as her flesh sizzled, and smoke curled greasily out of Molech’s clenched fist. Instead, the woman thrust her hand at Molech and there was a flash of shadows; Molech released her, steam hissing from an ugly fissure in his chest. The woman vanished.

“What was that?” Brandon gaped where the woman disappeared.

“Dimme,” Molech rumbled. “One of Lilith’s spawn. It is an assassin that walks the borders of life and death.” The demon fixed his burning coals on Brandon. “I have not gotten all the sacrifices due me yet, so you cannot die.”

Molech’s fist lashed out and the Dimme appeared as she was sent sprawling to the ground, her face a bloody ruin. The Dimme hissed at Molech and disappeared, leaving behind pale, pink blood. Mary was forgotten as Brandon called his soldiers to surround him. Molech circled slowly, peering about, a grimace on his basalt face.

Behind Molech, the Dimme appeared and struck him in the back with shadows. Roaring in pain, Molech swung around, but the Dimme ducked. A second Dimme materialized behind Brandon, hand lunging at his unprotected back. A soldier saw her and threw himself in front of her blow. Shadows flashed and the soldier fell lifeless to the floor; the Dimme vanished as the other soldiers opened fire at her.

My tongue was whole. I was healed. “Tsalmaveth!”

Energy flowed out of me and mists, billowing white, filled the exercise yard. The soldiers guarding Brandon grew more bewildered and started firing wildly as the fog seemed to draw together, forming into fifteen figures—the dead I summoned, creating their bodies out of white vapors. In front of me, one of those figures grew swiftly out of the swirling vapors. Its body filled out and a nimbus of silvery light sprang up around it. Squinting up at the spirit I saw blue eyes, blonde hair, and a smile.

“Look at all the trouble you get into without me, Master,” Chasity grinned.

Clad in silver armor, she held a silver 9mm in her hand. She looked like a Valkyrie, fierce and beautiful. Aiming her gun, she shot off the manacles binding my hands and feet, then held out her hand, her grip strong as ice, cold as death, as she helped me to my feet. I looked around and saw the other ghosts I summoned: Karen standing before Mary, 25’s pouty lips curled into a snarl as she fired her gun at a group of soldiers, 63’s auburn hair flowing like flames behind her as she sprinted across the exercise yard towards Mary. All thirteen of the bodyguards who died for us had been summoned, protecting us even in death.

My legs felt rubbery as I took my first step. I was so weak. I hadn’t eaten in days, barely drank water enough to survive, and I could feel the energy flowing out of me, maintaining the summons. I grit my teeth, pushed my exhaustion to the side, and summoned my Celestial Gold sword and armor, and strode into the fight, Chasity at my side.

Molech had to be stopped.

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

Mary Glassner
I heard Mark’s voice over Molech’s roar as I huddled in the corner. For the moment I was being ignored and I struggled to think. Brandon was surrounded by his soldiers; maybe I could hug the wall, make my way to the corner as everyone was distracted by the Dimme. Then I noticed a thick, white mist spring up. I watched in amazement as the mists swirled before me and a figure coalesced, resolving into Karen dressed in glowing, silver armor.

“Mistress,” she said with a smile. “How may I serve?”

I looked around; other figures appeared out of the mist. All were of the bodyguards that died. The six last June and the seven who died on Saturday. I saw Chasity helping Mark to his feet, and I smiled. It was good to see her again; she looked so beautiful in her armor, so fierce. I once overheard Alison speaking to her wife about Chasity. “She’s watching over us,” Alison had said, “Like a Valkyrie, ready to swoop in and help us. Just like in that old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. The barbarian movie.” Alison was right, she’s a Valkyrie here to save us.

63 ran up beside Karen, followed by porcelain-faced 32. Behind them, I could see that Mark was charging at the demon, Chasity at his side. “Ma’am, your orders?” 32 asked fiercely, gleaming in her silver armor.

“Capture Brandon!” I commanded.

Brandon’s guards were wild-eyed, shooting at the apparitions. Their bullets didn’t affect the silver-clad bodyguards; they were already dead. 32 and 63 fired their ghostly 9mm at the soldiers, striking their bulky body armor and sending them reeling, while Karen placed herself between me and the firefight. Behind Brandon, I could see Mark, Chasity, and more of the bodyguards fighting Molech and the two Dimme. Mark was clad in his golden armor, like a Greek hero, his sword flashing in the sunlight. He looked so powerful, so heroic, and I felt a momentary heat in my pussy.

A naked 51, looking exhausted and gaunt, slid up to me, a captured M16 in her hand. “Ma’am,” she calmly greeted, knelt down, and carefully started firing at Brandon’s guards.

The ghosts of Karen, 32, and 63 advanced.

“Retreat!” Brandon cried out in fear as another one of his soldiers was struck down by the ghosts.

Brandon was propelled along at the center of ten or so soldiers, who rushed towards the security gate that led into the prison. There was a metallic buzz and the gates opened. Crap, he was trying to escape, Mark would have to take care of Molech on his own. We ran after him as the gate started closing. 32 pulled ahead and threw herself into the doorway and caught the gate before it could shut. There was the grinding protest of metal as 32 stopped the mechanism long enough for 51 and myself to slip through. We turned a corner and saw Brandon passing through a second security gate. 32 raced forward, but the gate clanged shut before she could reach it.

“Dammit!” I snarled, then glanced at 32. “Can you go through walls?”

“Of course, ma’am,” she smiled, excitement twinkling in her almond-shaped eyes. I remembered her from the first tryouts, her name was Sally. She died on Saturday.

“Take the control room, trap Brandon, and open a way for us!”

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

Mark Glassner
I caught a glimpse of Mary chasing after Brandon with Karen, two other ghosts, and 51. Hoping she would be fine, I turned my attention back to Molech. The demon had conjured a flaming sword and swung it about in deadly arcs. The ghosts were attacking him from all sides, but Molech was holding us at bay with his sword. Those strange, colorless women, the Dimme, were constantly popping in and out of thin air. They attacked Molech, me, and the ghosts.

Chasity suddenly tackled me and we both went down as Molech’s blade roared overhead, the heat painful on the exposed skin of my face. We rolled on the concrete and I slowly got back on my feet. Maintaining the summoning was draining me fast. I wasn’t sure I could last much longer. I just had to hold on somehow; Molech was too strong, too fast, for me to fight on my own. He moved like quicksilver, despite his bulk, flowing about the battlefield and driving all our attacks back.

Molech’s sword flickered at me in a cutting arc and I just got my blade up to parry it. The demon knew how to fight. It took all my skill just to keep his blade from finding my flesh, let alone attacking back. Three of the bodyguards swiped at him and he turned and flowed away from me.

The ghosts had to transform their guns into swords. The small bullets just didn’t seem to do anything to the bulky demon. 22 leapt at the demon, her black hair streaming behind her. Molech whirled, turned her blade with his sword, and his riposte cleaved through her, breaking the spell that summoned her and sending her spirit back to the Abyss.

22’s unsummoning lessened the strain on me, but not by much. I was flagging and Molech sensed it. I raised my sword in time to catch his next blow, the force sliding me back a foot. The demon hammered at me with lightning-quick blows that I barely blocked with an upraised sword, each one sending a painful vibration up my arms. Chasity slid in, swinging her silver blade at the demon, and he was forced to leap back.

“Fuck,” I cursed, sweat pouring down my face, into my eyes. The summoning was about to fail, I couldn’t hold it much longer. I wiped at my brow and suddenly one of the Dimme was in front of me. Her arm shot forward and shadows flashed as she hit my breastplate. Pain exploded through me and I was sent flying back. I could feel the cracks in my armor from the blow as I landed heavily on my back. The Dimme vanished then reappeared standing above me, her arm striking at my head. I knew her blow would kill me if she touched my unprotected face. Behind the Dimme, Chasity was swinging her sword at the monster’s head, racing to kill the Dimme before she could kill me.

Everything seemed to slow down as my energy failed. The summoning spell was about to end and I struggled to hold on to it, but I was too weak and it was beginning to slip away from me. I just needed it to last one more second, just long enough for Chasity’s blade to kill the monster before her hand could strike my face and kill me.

Just one more second.

I was spent, out of gas. I couldn’t hold on any longer, the chains linking the ghosts to me slipping out of my soul’s grasp. This was it. I was dead. I let Mary down, everyone down. The Dimme’s pale hand drew closer and closer, shadows gathering black around it.

No! I can’t give up! I had to keep fighting! For Mary! For our unborn child! I dug deep into myself, reaching into the depths of my soul, desperate to find something, anything, that could extend the summonings. I touched something hard, metal.

I found a chain manacled to my soul.

No, not one chain, there were dozens and dozens of chains. I grasped one. It belonged to Violet, her life-force tied to me through the Zimmah spell. I could feel the power of her life-force, and I drew on it, fueling the summoning. Then I grasped all the chains and drew on all their energy: Alison, Desiree, Lillian, Xiu, Jessica, Mary’s dad and her sisters, the bodyguards, our other servants. More power than I could have ever dreamed of rushed into me. I had my one second. Hell, I had a lot more than just one.

Chasity’s blade sliced through the Dimme and it fell lifeless atop me.

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

Mary Glassner
“So,” I said to Karen as we waited for 32 to open the security gate, “how’s…um…being dead.” I flushed, why did you ask that, it must be a painful subject for her.

“Oh, well, it’s all right, I guess,” Karen said. “We watch you and Master, or we make love with each other. There really isn’t anything else to do while we wait.”

There was an awkward pause as neither of us knew what to say, and I wondered just how long it would take for 32 to open this damned gate before Brandon got too far away. I glanced at the ghost, bit my lip, then asked the first question that popped into my head, “How can you block bullets and go through walls?”

“We stand on the edge between life and death right now,” Karen answered, “and we can control which side we are closer to. If we choose life, we can interact with your world, and if we slide closer to death, we can pass through walls.”

“Ahh, and the bullets don’t hurt you because you’re dead?”

“Basically.”

“So, could something hurt you while you’re summoned?”

Karen shook her head. “Not really. If an attack hits us that can effect spiritual beings, like Master’s sword, our souls will only get sent back to the Abyss.” Karen frowned. “Well, there is one thing, Mishbath.”

“What’s that?”

“Annihilation. A blade of negation forged by the demoness Asherah, that can permanently destroy a soul, wiping it from existence. Even torment in the Abyss is preferable to unbeing. At least in Hell there can be companionship and hope of a better existence.”

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Brandon is trapped,” 32’s voice came over the jail’s PA. “I’ve created a path to him. Just follow the open security gates.”

“Good job!” I shouted as the security gate blocking our pursuit buzzed open. Karen and 63 led the way and 51 brought up the rear.

32 emerged from the wall as we rushed past empty jail cells. “This way!” she shouted.

Gunfire erupted as 32 rounded the corner, bouncing harmlessly off her silver armor. The Korean ghost aimed her silvery 9mm and started firing calmly. Karen and 63 joined her, and the three ghosts fired at Brandon’s men. I could hear the soldiers cry out in fear and pain and I felt bad for them.

They didn’t ask for this. They were Brandon’s slaves.

“Just surrender, Brandon!” I shouted, hoping to spare any innocent lives I could. “You’re trapped!”

“Fuck you cunt!” he screamed back, shrill with hysteria. “I am a God! I will not be defeated so easily! Not by a fucking woman!”

I laughed, putting all the contempt I could into it. “Brandon, you were outclassed from the beginning.”

“Open the gate!” he bellowed. I heard a metallic ring, like someone just kicked the security gate. “I command you to open the goddamn fucking gate!”

There was no more fire coming from Brandon’s soldiers, so I stepped out around the corner. Guilt filled my soul as I saw the soldiers lying dead and dying before Brandon. I shoved the guilt down. This was all Brandon’s fault. The blood is on his hands, not mine.

I advanced on Brandon as he pounded on the security gate, begging for it to open. He turned back and saw the three ghosts and me walking determinedly down the hallway. “Please!” he begged, sliding down the security gate. “Please, don’t hurt me!”

I backhanded him, hard. So hard my hand hurt. It was satisfying to see the blood flow from his broken nose. “Restrain him,” I coldly ordered.

Karen grasped his legs and 63 grabbed his arms. He struggled, but the ghosts had preternatural strength and easily held the blubbering man down.

“I just wanted the power,” he sobbed. “Mercy, please!”

“You are pathetic,” I snarled. “You attacked us with soldiers, hunted down my husband, and beat him for three days straight. You wanted to give me to that monstrous demon you summoned! And you want mercy? Are you fucking kidding me, Brandon!” I kicked him in the side and he grunted. The fucker deserved far more pain and suffering. I wanted to beat him bloody, to let Brandon experience the pain he inflicted on my husband. I wanted him dead, but I couldn’t kill him. Every Thrall under his control was bound to him. If he died, they died. “You’re only alive because I do not want to be responsible for the tens of thousands of deaths that would result if I killed you. Get him hard, 51.”

“Yes, ma’am,” 51 answered, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. Her ebony hand stroked it a few times, then she bent down and sucked it into her mouth.

“Let me know when he’s about to cum,” I ordered.

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

Mark Glassner
With my new found energy, I rushed at Molech. He whirled about, his sword swinging in a wide arc that unsummoned two more bodyguards as it passed through their ghostly bodies. I parried the stroke, barely, and Chasity slid under his blade and swung at his knee. He pulled his leg back, but her blade managed to bite deep into his thigh.

Molech roared in fury, weeping molten blood. His injured leg slowed him, and the ghosts and I pressed the attack. His great, flaming sword was a red blur as he whipped it around in deadly arcs, but the wound on his leg slowed him. Ghostly blades and my golden sword slashed at the demon, and more molten blood gleamed as it flew through the air from a dozen shallow cuts, sizzling and smoking on the concrete. Somehow, Molech was always able to move his bulk to avoid the worst of the blows.

“I am Molech, God of the Ammonites, Lord of Brimstone!” the demon roared. “I am the Fiery Furnace that consumes the Prideful! Who are you, mortal, to think you can contend with a God!”

“I am Mark Glassner!” I roared back. “And you are a God no longer. All those who worshiped you are dead. Who the fuck has even heard of the Ammonites? Or Molech?”

Molech erupted wordlessly in anger. Two of the ghosts leaped at the demon’s back and he whirled, cleaving through them and leaving his back exposed to me. Seeing my opening, I rushed forward, my sword raised high. Just three steps and a swing and my blade would part the demon’s head from his body.

The first step—Molech began to turn, somehow sensing the attack, but he was slowed by all his wounds. He couldn’t stop me and triumph surged through me. I was going to take his head! I was going to win!

The second step—out of the corner of my eye I saw a white figure materialize and threw myself to the side to avoid a shadowed hand of the last Dimme. I hit the ground hard, my knee exploding in pain as I wrenched it on a metal stool bolted into the concrete. I looked around for the monster, but she had vanished again. Dammit, I was so close. I grabbed the stool, struggling to stand, but my knee wouldn’t support my weight and I fell onto my back,

“I think you are an insect,” Molech growled as he marched towards me, triumph burning in his burning eyes. 01 and 78 jumped in front of the demon, trying to stop his advance, but he cut them down, the ghosts vanishing back into mist as they returned to the afterlife. “I shall crush you beneath my foot and then I will find your woman and she shall know the agony of my embrace.”

Molech was standing over me, reeking of sulfur; the air wavered about him, rippling from the heat of his body. Between his legs was a fat, black cock, hardening with lust. Fear pounded through me; I couldn’t let this monster anywhere near my Mary. His foot raised up and Chasity and the four remaining ghosts threw themselves at him. Chasity slammed into his raised leg, throwing off Molech’s aim and his foot slammed down inches from my face.

Molech’s hand grasped Chasity’s throat. She somehow managed to spit in his face and the ghostly liquid sizzled; Molech’s fiery eyes bulged in rage. “I will find you, spirit.” he growled. “When you return to the Abyss, I shall track you down. Your suffering will be an eternity of torment for your meddling!” His fist squeezed and crushed her throat, and Chasity’s form melted into white vapor.

I swung my sword at Molech’s leg, the gold blade flashing as it sliced through the air. It struck Molech’s right leg, just above the knee. There was almost no resistance as I hit his molten flesh, cutting through the thick leg as easily as cutting a piece of tender steak.

Molech’s roar of pain was satisfying as the figure stumbled forward. Only he had no right foot and I rolled out of the way as the demon crashed forward onto his hands and knee. A pool of molten fire issued from his stump, melting the base of the metal stool. With a groan, the stool collapsed. 30 stood over me, a smile on her ghostly, Asian face as she hauled me to my feet. Molech struggled to rise, trying to use his stump for leverage, but he slipped, collapsing back onto his hands and knees as I stood over him.

“Mercy,” he suddenly begged. “I will be your most loyal servant. I can give you anything you want!”

“Is the great Molech scared?” I taunted. “Who would have thought that the Lord of Brimstone was such a coward.”

A sneer appeared on Molech’s features. “Lucifer will rise free of the Abyss and you will burn in his radiance, Mortal!”

I raised my sword.

“No, wait!” His coal eyes burned yellow with fear. “You will need me to contend with Lucifer. He will destroy you without my help.”

“You should not have threatened my wife, Molech.”

I swung my sword.

Molech’s protest was cut short as my blade parted his head from his body. It bounced once and rolled against a metal table, then his head and body fell apart into cooling coals. I felt power rush into me, a roaring fire that burned into my soul. I felt more of the energy travel out of my body, out to Mary. Our souls were so connected, bound so tightly together that Molech’s power rushed to her. Fire erupted on my sword, red flames dancing along the gold blade.

“You did it, Master,” Desiree breathed. My Latina slut walked over to me – her face bloody and bruised from Brandon’s kicks – and slipped her arms about me. I leaned on her, taking the weight off my injured knee. There were tears in her eyes. “I-I submitted to him,” she cried. “I betrayed you, Master.”

I stroked her face. “You did what you had to, Desiree. When it counted, you protected Mary.”

Supported by Desiree, I limped off to find my wife.

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

Mary Glassner
“I won’t cum!” Brandon defiantly roared as 51’s ebony hand pumped on his cock.

I laughed, “Your cock is so hard. You wished for sexual stamina, right?”

He flushed.

“Well, it will only be a matter of…” I gasped, my eyes widening. Fiery energy rushed into me from Mark, filling my soul. I fell backwards as the power overwhelmed me.

“Mistress!” Karen cried out, kneeling next to me. Her ghostly hands were cold as she grasped me.

“I’m fine,” I told her, panting. What was that energy that just flowed into me?

“Fire danced around you, Mistress,” Karen said in awe. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered, then thought to Mark, What was that energy?

Molech’s dead, Mark sent back; he sounded exhausted.

We have Brandon. Just follow the open security doors.

You saved us, Mare! Pride filled his thoughts and I flushed.

No I didn’t. My plan failed, Mark.

You stalled long enough for me to heal. You were amazing!

I flushed even more.

A minute later, Mark came limping around the corner, supported by Desiree and flanked by four ghosts. Behind Mark walked Leah and 27, who looked even worse than 51. I could only imagine the horrors they witnessed. I peered, trying to see past everyone, hoping to see Violet. Where was she? Was our cute, teenage slut dead? Or did she escape? As I strained to spot Violet, a pale form appeared behind my husband.

“Mark!” I screamed in warning.

“For Di!” the colorless Dimme screamed, her hand flashing with shadows.

Mark started to turn, swinging his flaming sword. Shadow and sword flashed. Mark reeled back, slipping out of Desiree’s grip and crashing hard to the ground. The Dimme toppled backward in a spray of pink blood, her throat opened from Mark’s slash.

Karen and the other ghosts melted into mist and Mark’s armor and sword disintegrated into golden motes. “No!” I shouted, racing to Mark.

“Shit!” 51 gasped behind me. There was a meaty sound and a wet thud.

I reached Mark, kneeling next to him. There was a blackened wound on his chest. His armor had stopped the worst of the Dimme’s attack, but that wound was growing, shadowy tendrils inching across his body. I had to heal him, fast. “Tsa…”

My spell was cut short as a hand crushed my throat. I was slammed onto my back, pinned by Brandon as he straddled my stomach, a mad look in his eyes. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned. I clawed at his face, leaving red scratches. His grip tightened, iron crushing the life out of me. No! I couldn’t die! Not when we came so close to defeating him. Not when I was pregnant. I had to fight. For our unborn child!

I started grasping at the fingers squeezing my throat, trying to pry them off. Other women were leaping on Brandon, trying to force him off of me. 27 was thrown off, her head slamming into the concrete wall and she fell heavily to the floor. The world was starting to grow black, and it was getting harder and harder to think, to fight. I wanted to give up, to relax, to let that blissful darkness take me away from all of this pain.

My hand went limp.

No, keep fighting, I weakly told myself. Our child would be named Chasity if it was a girl or Albert if it was a boy. I had to keep fighting for our child. I wanted to see him or her be born. To hold our child in my arms. I would not give up! I reached inside me, trying to find the strength to keep the darkness at bay.

I found something, glowing in my soul. The power that flowed into me from Mark.

The fire of Molech.

Brandon screamed, his hand released my throat as he stumbled back. I coughed, gasping lungfuls of the sweetest air I had ever tasted. Fire roared about my body, dancing harmlessly on my skin. Desiree and 51 wrestled the screaming Brandon to the ground, his hands blackened ruins. I coughed, and turned to Mark. The black wound was growing, the shadows spreading, reaching for his heart.

“Tsariy!” I screamed hoarsely as I touched him.

Red light engulfed my husband, his body convulsing beneath my hand. When it passed, his blue eyes were shining up at me. His hand reached out and caressed my face. I winced; my nose was broken and my face swollen from Brandon’s blow. Mark whispered and my world turned scarlet. I could feel my nose straitening out, the swelling in my face vanishing; the pain in my throat and the bruises and scrapes on my side all melted away.

“My filly!” Mark cried out, crushing me to him.

I hugged him just as fiercely, my tears rolling down my cheeks. “My stallion!”

Mark kissed me and everything seemed to stop. My husband was safe and we were together again. I could feel his muscular chest pressing against me, his hands roaming my back, and I touched him everywhere, feeling his strong muscles. My heart sang for joy and I could feel tears misting my eyes. I broke the kiss, and stared into his deep blue eyes and stroked his cheek.

Then I bent over and whispered into his ear, “We’ve started something terrible. A darkness approaches. We have to take some responsibility and fight back, Mark.”

I couldn’t say anymore. Lucifer could be watching us right now. Only in a Matmown would it be safe to talk. I pressed my finger to his lips when he started to speak, shaking my head ever so slightly. There was confusion in his eyes, but also trust.

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

Debra Horne-Dannell
“Something has happened, Forrest,” I reported into my microphone, speaking with Forrest Murphy back in the Q13 Fox studios while I stared into the camera manned by Jarret. The world had changed a moment ago. I felt like I had returned to myself. “Everything is different. It’s like I’m waking up from a dream.”

Around me in the square before the Tacoma Courthouse, were US Soldiers who served the God Brandon Fitzsimmons. No, that couldn’t be right? He could not be a God. Everywhere I looked, soldiers were shaking their heads, looking confused. A young soldier, no more than twenty, sat down and started sobbing into his hands.

“We felt it, too, Debra,” Forrest replied through my earpiece. He was anchoring the news desk back at the Q13 Fox studio in Seattle. “Why did we ever believe Brandon was a God?”

“He cast a spell,” I realized. “Led us astray from our true Gods.”

It was all coming back to me. My worship and love for Mark and Mary Glassner was suppressed by the false God’s enchantment. I was free. It felt wonderful. “Our real Gods, Mark and Mary, are responsible,” I continued reporting. A smile grew on my face. It was unprofessional, but I could not contain the joy I felt at being free. “I just know it! The soldiers under Brandon’s control seem to be freed as well. Many look dazed, sick even. Disgusted at what Brandon forced them to do. We have all heard the reports of the atrocities committed the last few days in Tacoma.”

“I just shot that man,” sobbed the young soldier, staring at his hands. “Oh, God, why did I do that?”

The doors to the jail suddenly opened and two naked women, one Black and one Hispanic, walked out carrying M16s. I recognized the Black woman as 51, the chief bodyguard of my Gods. Then Desiree and a brunette walked out, dragging a manacled man.

Brandon Fitzsimmons.

And the last to walk out were my Gods. They were naked, their arms entwined. An aura of fire danced about the pair. My breath caught in my throat; even naked, they were magnificent. Mark’s chiseled body, as perfect a male specimen as you would find on any Greek statue, and Mary’s womanly figure, as beautiful as any pin-up model. Power and majesty radiated out from the pair.

“I present the false god, Brandon Fitzsimmons!” Mark roared.

Desiree kicked the back of his leg and the fat, balding man fell to his knees. Whatever illusion Brandon had used to make himself look young and fit had been broken. He stared blankly at the ground, utterly defeated.

“He enslaved you with his dark magic!” Mary shouted. “But we have freed you! Do not feel guilty for what you did under his control. Only Brandon bears responsibility for the murders and the rapes. Only Brandon!”

The soldiers around me looked up at Mark and Mary with hope and relief. The young man that had been sobbing near me gazed at them with such a worshipful expression. “It wasn’t me,” he whispered. “It wasn’t me!”

“Brandon Fitzsimmons is guilty of mass murder and rape!” Mary cried out. “He sacrificed over fifty women to the demon Molech!”

Mark looked down at the defeated man. “For his crimes, I condemn him to death!”

With Mark’s sentence, 51 aimed her M16. I felt a vicious surge of triumph in my heart as the M16 barked and Brandon fell lifeless to the ground.

“A darkness approaches!” Mark bellowed. “Brandon was merely the first. Only Mary and I can protect you! Serve us, worship us, and we shall fight for you, protect you! We are the only hope for the world! We are your Gods, and we love you all!”

The soldiers fell to their knees in worship. It took me a moment to realize that I knelt with them.

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

Brandon Fitzsimmons – The Abyss

The gun barked.

I was falling, falling, falling into darkness.

Then the darkness gave way to fire, to pain. To agony beyond anything I ever felt alive. I screamed and screamed as the flames danced on my skin, igniting every nerve. Around me thousands screamed, millions. I burned, my flesh sizzling, but I would not die, and the pain would not end. My flesh was never consumed. My torment would be unceasing.

“Welcome, Brandon,” Lucifer taunted. A collar of molten-red metal encircled my neck, a chain leading off to the radiant figure floating before the thousands of tormented souls bound to him. “Did you enjoy your wishes?” He savored my torment, delighted in it, drank in my agony. Malice and sadism dripped from every word he uttered. “I hope they were worth the price.”

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 39.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 37: Mary Magdalene

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 37: Mary Magdalene

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Female/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Rape, Sadism, Humiliation, Violence, Murder, Male Domination

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 36.



Violet Matheson – Tacoma, WA

“Leah, Violet, and Desiree, scatter!” Master shouted. “They’re after me, you might get away!”

I looked one last time at Master, drinking in his form, then turned and ran as fast as I could from the wreckage. My heart thudded in terror. Behind me, gunfire erupted and I shrieked loudly. Please be okay, Master! Please! I pumped my legs as hard as I could, my lungs burning with exertion. I had never run so fast, so hard in my life.

But I couldn’t keep it up. After running six blocks my legs felt like solid lead and my sides ached. I just had to stop, bending over to grab my knees while I tried to catch my breath. Sweat poured off my forehead, stinging my eyes; I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

“We have to keep moving, Violet!” Desiree panted. I jumped, glancing behind me. I didn’t even realize that my slut-sister had been running with me. “They’re coming!”

I glanced behind me and saw soldiers in brown camo running down the street. They were still two blocks away and covering the ground fast. We were in a residential neighborhood; old houses, most looking run down, crowded the street while the residents stood on their porches watching both us and the soldiers in confused amusement.

“There!” Desiree pointed at a barely-paved alleyway and took off sprinting.

Fear gave me a second wind and I chased after her. She crashed through a gate in a chain-link fence, the metal rattling, and I was right on her tail. We ran down the side of a house and came out on the next street up. There was a loud, crashing sound of metal splintering wood off in the distance where Master was.

Stay safe, Master, I prayed. Please stay safe!

We cut across the street into another yard, through a gate in the picket fence, the white paint peeling, exposing grayish wood. Running down the side of the house into the backyard, my sides were killing me and I felt like throwing up. My thin top was wet with sweat, sticking to my boobs. Desiree marched up to a clothesline and ripped down a dress.

“We need to change,” Desiree panted, her nut-brown skin flushed with exertion. “We stand out too much dressed like this.”

I flushed; the tube-top I was wearing was so tight, it was practically a second skin, and my sweat made the red material slightly transparent exposing my nipples and areolas completely. I took the dress from Desiree and pulled it over my head. It was too big for me, the skirt fell down way past my knees. I felt like I wore a tent it was so loose and baggy, so unlike the tight clothes I had grown used to wearing since I met Master.

There was a crashing sound and I turned to see two soldiers walking down the side of the house, aiming their big rifles. Desiree froze for a moment, a second dress in her hand. She glance once at me, smiled, then took off running towards the other side of the house, shouting loudly. The soldiers cursed and chased after her, leaving me frozen in the backyard.

You need to move, Violet. She drew them off so you could escape. So keep moving! Find someplace to hide. There was a back gate that led out into another alley. I ran through it, and looked around the alley, trying to regain my breath. I heard booted footsteps and ducked behind an olive-green, plastic trashcan, trembling as I hid. I curled up into a ball, sobbing silently. My muscles were cramping and I started to shake.

This could not be happening. This was worse then when the SWAT team attacked us last June. I just wanted to stay where I was, hiding behind the trashcan. I didn’t ever want to leave. I didn’t care that it smelled bad, or that the gravel was sharp and poked my side. It was safe. I was safe. Please, please don’t find me!

“Save me, Master,” I whispered, clutching at the choker about my neck. “Please come save me, Master.”

Gravel crunched and I jumped. Someone was approaching. I curled up as tight as I could, taking only the shallowest of breaths. My heart was hammering loudly in my chest. They’re going to hear my heart thundering away, I realized with fear. It’s so loud. Fresh terror surged through me, driving my heart to beat louder and louder. Please stop beating so loud! But my heart ignored me and kept hammering away.

The footsteps drew closer; I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what was coming. More gravel scraped and crunched as they drew closer; the soldiers were almost to my hiding spot. I’m going to get captured. My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst right out of my chest. The crunching footsteps were right next to me. I was found, they had caught me. I tensed, waiting for the blow to be struck, the bullet to be fired.

Instead it was the lightest of touch.

Cautiously, I cracked my eyes open to see a young woman smiling down at me with warm, blue eyes and a friendly smile. She held out her hand and relief flooded through me. I wasn’t caught. I hesitantly uncurled, grasped her hand, and she gently helped me to my feet. I hugged her gratefully, tears running down my face. I wasn’t caught!

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered over and over.

She just held me for a moment, not answering, then led me into her house.

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

Mary Glassner – Osage Field, Kansas

I sat facing Sam across the hole, the September sun warm on my back as it sank towards the western horizon.

The hole was a few feet deep, dug by Duncan and the other former SWAT officers. We were in a grassy field next to one of the runways at Osage Field, the decommissioned Cold War airbase in the middle of nowhere, Kansas, that Mark and I had purchased. It was our bolthole. Nearby was a Missile Silo, also shut down, converted into a survival bunker. We staffed the airfield with volunteers bound to us with the Zimmah spell: the SWAT Officers who survived the attack last June, their wives and girlfriends, and the Blackwoods. It was nice seeing Belinda and her teenage daughter Cassie again, and I remembered all the fun I had with Mark’s jogging sluts last June. Along with Belinda’s husband Oscar, the Blackwoods took care of the actual Missile Silo, while the SWAT Officers and their families took care of the airfield and provided security.

All our friends and family paced around the hole or stood in worried knots. Mark’s mother and sister looked sick with worry and the sluts all clung around Alison, encouraging the girl that Desiree was safe and she would be reunited with her wife. I saw Rachel and Jacob, our accountants, holding each other. Their wife Leah is our chauffeur and was with Mark when the attack happened. Images of our dead bodyguards were being shown on the news, along with Mark’s beating. But there was no news on Leah or Violet. I hoped that meant they escaped, but I feared that they were dead.

“Are we ready,” I demanded impatiently of Sam. Every minute we delayed was another minute that my husband was getting beaten.

“Yes,” Sam answered. “Light it.”

The hole was piled with brush and soaked in gasoline. Duncan lit a rag and tossed it into the pit. The fire had a greasy smell, and a sickly, black smoke that burned my eyes rose up into the sky. Sam closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her plaything, Candy, sat next to her, holding Sam’s olive hand. Sam was our Vizier. She understood all the magic better than anyone, even inventing a few spells and charms all on her own.

I had a plan. I was going to take a Nun’s powers and exorcise Brandon. He wanted me. All of his broadcasts contained his threat to beat Mark until I turned myself in. He wanted to make me his slut, just like Mark had made his wife Desiree our slut. All I had to do was submit to his lusts and exorcise him, and then this would all be over.

But I needed to know one important fact—if Brandon had a sister, he could perform the Mowdah spell and be able to recognize my new aura. Right now my aura was red, a Warlock’s aura, but after I steal the Nun’s Gift of the Spirit, my aura would turn bronze. Just like Mark’s had; the aura of a Shaman. The Magicks of the Witch of Endor spoke at great length on aura colors, including the Shaman’s. I needed confirmation that my plan would work.

I needed necromancy.

“Spirits of the dead, I beseech you,” Sam shouted out, holding her arms above the fire as she began the Naba ritual. It was supposed to be very dangerous. If you conjured the wrong spirit, one filled with violence or hatred, it could lash out and hurt the summoner, and since your life-force sustained the summoning, it placed a great strain on you. If you maintained it too long, you could even die. “Appear before me. Rise once more from the grave and clothe yourself in smoke and fire and give us your counsel!”

The ground groaned in pain and the fire surged upward with a screaming roar. The heat was so intense that it caused me to wince and slam my eyes shut in pain. My skin felt like it was about to blacken beneath the roaring inferno Sam conjured, and my heart hammered in fear. Something had gone wrong, Sam had messed up and unleashed an inferno that is consuming us. Then there was a great, moaning whoosh and the heat vanished.

Everything went still, quiet. Deathly.

The sun no longer felt warm on my back; I felt a growing chill that seemed to seep up from the hole. Cold, clammy air caressed my naked body. I shivered, opening my eyes, to see a figure coalescing out of the thick, black smoke rising up from the depths of the earth. From the depths of Hell.

The smoke was swirling towards the coalescing shape, thickening it. A torso grew, sprouting arms and legs like tendrils from a vine. A dome appeared, swelling up into a head. The smoke kept swirling in and the billowy figure grew more and more solid. The lines of a body started to appear, legs grew firm and slim, hips narrowed, and the hint of a bosom formed. Wispy hair sprouted curly from the head and the features of the face grew more defined, a doll’s face with plump lips.

My heart froze, I knew that face.

My eyes watered in grief as Karen spoke, “Hello, Mistress.” Her voice was soft, distant. Ethereal. It was like she was shouting from a thousand miles away, a million miles. Farther away than the Moon, the Sun, all the stars in the heavens. It seemed that all of existence lay between us, a vast gulf that her voice was somehow just able to cross.

“Karen,” my voice broke; tears rolled wet down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Karen.”

“Don’t be, Mistress,” Karen whispered. “It was not your fault. That vile creature tricked you.”

“Are you in pain? Does it hurt where you are?”

She smiled softly. “No, Mistress. Chasity and the others wait with me.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Why for you and Master, of course. Even in death, we are yours. Always yours.” Her gray, smokey hand reached out and cupped my face, wiping at my tears. “Master needs you. So how can I help?”

“Does Brandon Fitzsimmons have a sister?”

“No, just a brother,” Karen answered.

Relief flooded through me. This was going to work! “Is the Mother Superior at Rennes-le-Château?”

“She is, Mistress,” Karen answered. “Alone and waiting for you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “She’s waiting for me?”

“For two thousand years she has waited for you, Mistress,” Karen paused. “Momentous things are happening. Lucifer has driven his enemies from the field and now he waits as his prison crumbles about him. Dark days lie ahead of you.”

“I don’t care, I just need to save Mark!” I cried.

“Sam is nearing the limits of her strength. Ask quickly!” Karen urged.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” I asked. “Something I haven’t thought of?”

“Brandon has…” Sam screamed, loud and sudden, drowned out Karen’s words. “…other.”

“What did you say?” I asked as the smoke started to drift apart, the form vanishing into a billowing cloud that rose up to the heavens.

Karen was gone.

Sam collapsed on the ground, twitching, blood trickling from her nose. I should be concerned for her, but all I could think about were Karen’s words. Brandon has what? An other? That didn’t make sense. A mother, maybe? He somehow found the way to bind anyone that heard him speak with the Zimmah spell. Maybe it involved his mother somehow. A male Warlock needs to use his mother to bind someone. I frowned. No, that could not be right? His mother was dead. Our investigation into Brandon revealed that. It’s why we didn’t think of him as a threat.

“Ma’am, the plane is fueled,” Lynda, one of our pilots, said.

“Let’s go,” I said, pushing aside those questions. Mark was in too much danger to waste a second.

My mom caught my arm as I walked by. “She’s a legend, the Mother Superior. You heard Karen, she’s waiting for you. Don’t do this.”

“I have to, Mom,” I said, shaking my arm from hers. “There is no other choice.”

“Please, Mary,” my mom begged.

I hugged her. “It will be okay. She’s alone. I will have thirty armed men and women with me. I will be perfectly safe. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Mom whispered and kissed my cheek.

Dad gave me a hug and kissed me on my forehead. “You can do it, Mary. I know you can. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered, fighting back tears.

Sam was standing up, looking shaky, as Candy held a cloth to her bleeding nose. For a moment I thought I saw anger in Candy’s eyes as she helped Sam. I was about to say something when Missy ran up and hugged me fiercely. “Good luck, sis!” she said and kissed me on the lips.

“You watch out for Mom and Dad,” I told her and ruffled her strawberry-blonde hair. I glanced back at Candy and I only saw concern for Sam on her face. Did I even see any anger?

“You can count on me, Mary!” Missy exclaimed.

I walked to the 747. I planned on taking all twenty-one of the bodyguards and the nine SWAT officers. It would leave all my loved ones unprotected, but none of that mattered if I couldn’t save Mark in time. I took one last look at all our friends and family before the hatch was closed. I walked to my seat and strapped in. My thoughts were full of worry over what Karen had tried to tell me. I focused, trying to remember how her lips were moving, trying to figure out what Sam’s scream had drowned out.

I had a long flight to France to ponder it.

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

Desiree de la Fuentes – Tacoma, WA

Being captured wasn’t what I thought it would be.

After being forced to watch my ex-husband order Master’s brutal beating, I was taken to the showers in the the jail next-door to the courthouse. Two female soldiers, one tall with a plain face and the other short and stocky, stripped me naked and shoved me in with a bar of soap and shampoo. As the warm water sprayed on my sore body, I wondered if I would ever see my wife again.

I leaned forward against the tiled wall, and my body shook with silent sobs. I desperately wanted to see my slutty Alison again. I pictured her mischievous face framed by her bubblegum hair, her tongue running over her lush lips, silver glinting off her tongue-piercing. Master gave the distress call; Alison should be far away, safe wherever the bolthole was.

Safe with Mistress.

“You’re clean,” Plain-Face barked. “Let’s go. We need to get you ready for Him.”

I shuddered; the woman said ‘him’ with such a worshipful manner. I had heard Brandon’s pronouncement—he claimed he was a God now. As if he could even compare to Master, I thought with derision. The women handed me a black dress to wear. It was similar to one Brandon bought me before Mark claimed me, low cut and tight, showing off all of my body’s ample assets.

“Take off the choker,” Stocky ordered.

“No,” I said with defiance. I am Mark’s slut!

Stocky just reached out and yanked it off my neck, snapping the clasp. I wanted to cry. Instead, I glared icily at the woman who pocketed my choker. She handed me a jewelry box that contained a pearl necklace and I knocked it to the floor.

“Don’t make us hurt you,” she threatened as she picked up the box.

Grinding my teeth, I took the necklace and placed it about my throat. They hadn’t noticed my wedding ring, and as we walked through the jail, I quickly pulled it off my left hand and slipped it onto my right. They took the symbol of my voluntary slavery and I wasn’t about to lose the symbol of my love for Alison.

The soldiers marched me through the jail. We constantly had to stop to let security gates be buzzed open. Everyone manning the prison was a soldier. There were bloodstains dotting the walls and empty shell casings littering the floor. And not all the gates had to be buzzed open, some lay twisted and blackened from explosives. As we walked, I realized there was no-one making cat-calls at me. The cells were empty.

“Where are all the prisoners?” I asked, unnerved by the empty cells.

“Executed,” Plain-Face answered. “His orders.”

My blood chilled. I wondered what had happened to Brandon. I never loved him, but he wasn’t an evil man. Right? He always seemed nice and attentive. He had a temper, sure, but I was having trouble reconciling the man I married and the monster that appeared today. Stocky prodded me and I realized that I had frozen in my tracks. Swallowing, I started walking forward again.

Was he always a monster and I just never saw it in him?

They led me out to the exercise yard, at the center of the jail. A small courtyard with a few basketball hoops, some metal tables lining the side. The both tables and stools were bolted into the concrete. The exercise yard was crowded with women milling about under the hungry eyes of a group of soldiers. All the women were naked, young, and reasonably attractive.

A larger table had been set up with a white tablecloth and mauve candles; a bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket. A romantic dinner? A naked teen with blonde hair walked up to me, smiling broadly. She bowed to me then dismissed Stocky and Plain-Face with the wave of her arm. The two soldiers saluted and walked off.

“My Lady,” the girl said. She had a Midwest twang to her voice. “I am Ashley, your Lord Husband’s chief concubine.”

“You’re his slut,” I corrected.

“As you say, my Lady,” she replied. “Would you care to sit? Lord Brandon will be here shortly to dine with you.”

I was about to refuse, when a woman shouted in a rich, French accent, “Kneel before your God, the Majestic Brandon, the Divine Ruler of the World!”

I snorted with laughter. The Majestic Brandon? The soldiers knelt on one knee while the women in the exercise yard and Ashley fell prostrate. I remained standing, refusing to genuflect before my ex, and turned to see a porcelain-faced woman with long, dark-brown hair, falling naked to worship my ex-husband as he swept in. Behind him walked a bevy of naked women, led by a pair of twins who were almost the spitting image of Mary. Several military men – some sort of high-ranking officers judging by their age and bearing – followed on the heels of the naked women, and the last to enter was the mayor of Tacoma, Colton Bray, and his lovely Korean wife, Yoon.

“My beautiful Desiree,” Brandon said warmly, walking up and hugging me; I stiffened in his arms. Brandon frowned and broke the hug. “I see he has warded you from my control.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that I hate you, picaflor?” I asked bitterly, as he motioned to the seat, indicating that I should sit. I grit me teeth and plopped down on the chair.

“You do not hate me, not deep down inside,” Brandon said calmly. “Mark has forced you to hate me. You are under his power.”

I snorted a laugh and muttered in Spanish, “Babosa.” Brandon was an idiot.

One of the auburn-haired twins popped open the wine and poured two glasses, then she knelt with all the other naked women and looked adoringly up at Brandon. Not even Master made us fawn over him like this.

“No, I hate you for this,” I pointed around. “You attacked us. Your damn soldiers almost killed my loved ones. Almost killed me! You are having my Master cruelly beaten and what are you doing with all these women?” I motioned to the scared women crowded in the exercise yard.

“They were candidates for my harem,” Brandon calmly answered. “The ones I rejected. My soldiers are rounding-up every attractive woman they find, and I’m keeping the best. Don’t looked so shocked; Mark did the same thing. He walked into our house and made you his whore.” Heat was rising in his voice. “But don’t you worry, my love, I will find a way to free you.”

“Mark already freed me, babosa,” I answered, putting as much derision into my voice as I could. “I’m his slut willingly. We all are.”

Brandon frowned as another naked woman set a salad before the both of us. My stomach rumbled, but I pushed the food aside. Brandon took a forkful, chewed it slowly, face furrowed as he thought. He swallowed, then asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Back in June, after the Miracle, Master and Mistress freed us. Some of us chose to stay as their slaves.” Feeling spiteful, I added, “I could have returned to you, but I never loved you, Brandon. I just married you for your money. I was a gold digger. I stayed with Master because I fell in love, and I could have all the wealth I could possibly dream of as his whore, more than I ever could have as your wife.”

Anger flashed on his face and I was too surprised to react as he slapped me across the table. “So you love Mark,” he spat. “That vile beast that took you away from me. You were mine!”

“¡Tu madre es puta y pendeja!” I shouted back, rubbing my cheek. “No, I am Alison’s! I fell in love with their slave and married her. I found true happiness! Something that you never gave me! All I ever got from you was a comfortable life and disappointing sex!”

I blocked his second blow and raked my fingernails down his arm. I smiled at the bloody scratches I gave him. He stood up, rage filling his eyes, and rounded the table at me. I quickly got to my feet and tried to back away, but I stumbled over one of his kneeling whores. His arm caught mine in a steely grip. I snarled at him and slapped him across the face.

My head swam as he backhanded me and I tripped over the kneeling woman and fell hard onto my back. “¡Culero!” I snarled at him. “How could I love a muerdealmohadas like you. You don’t even know what to do with a woman! Not with your little dick! ¡Pinche mula!”

He stared down at me, rage burning in his eyes. “I dislike having to chastise you, Desiree, but you will learn to submit to me if I have to beat all the willfulness out of you.”

“¡Jode su madre!” I spat. “I chose Alison and I chose Mark over you! Mistress is out there! You think you’ve won, but she will crush you! And I will be there to see you fall!”

Brandon laughed. “Let the little whore try.” I felt his eyes upon me as I lay on the floor; my skirt had ridden up as I fell and I pushed it back down, covering my exposed pussy. “Why so modest now?” he asked with a hungry look in his eyes. “You weren’t so bashful this morning with your tits exposed and covered in his cum.”

“¡Ve a chuparle el peson ha un chango! I’m his whore, not yours! Never yours.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” he smiled, unbuckling his belt. “Hold her down.”

His harem grabbed me. I thrashed against the women as they pinned my arms to the ground. Others held my legs. I kicked one in the face and she screamed in pain, but others moved in, fingernails biting into my flesh as they held me down. Brandon’s pants were off, his cock jutting out at me beneath his fat belly.

“I forgot just how small you were,” I said with a bold grin. “After Mark’s, I’m not sure I’ll even feel your little rope in me!”

He knelt before me, his fat, disgusting body pressed atop me. “You’ll feel my cock, whore!”

“I always hated having sex with you, panzon. There is nothing less appealing than a fat whale thrashing about on top of you, gasping for breath as he tries to pump away with his little cock!”

“Cunt!” he snarled and slapped me.

My head rang and everything went hazy for a moment. I shook my head then felt a burning pain in my pussy as his cock forced its way in. I was dry; Brandon didn’t seem to care. He just kept pumping away. I suppressed a groan, I wasn’t about to let the bastard know just how much he was hurting me. Looking up, his neck was right above me, his throat exposed.

I could bite him, maybe rip out his artery. Then this all would be over. I could save us all! I lunged my head and bit into his neck, hard. I tasted coppery blood and bit harder, driving my teeth deeper into his neck. He pulled away, roaring in pain.

“Goddamn fucking whore!” he shouted, his left hand clutching at his bleeding throat.

There was a bloody bite, but it wasn’t deep enough. He raised his right fist up and slammed it into my face. The back of my head hit the hard concrete and everything was fuzzy after that. I was barely aware of Brandon pumping away inside me. The world seemed to swim drunkenly about me. My head lolled to the side and I stared at the knees of one of the women holding me down, a gray pebble stuck to her leg. Then everything just faded away.

It was the pain that brought me back. My head was splitting and there was a burning pain down in my pussy. I could feel a crushing weight on top of me. I struggled to open my eyes and there was Brandon, his neck covered with a white bandage. He was still raping me, I realized. I felt raw and sore inside and every thrust of his cock was agony.

“Umm, you’re not a bad fuck when you’re unconscious,” Brandon told me with glee. “If you want to wiggle about, though, that’s alright.”

I struggled to speak, but my head ached too much and then darkness fell on me again. I don’t think I was out long, Brandon was still pumping away inside me when I woke up the second time. His face contorted in pleasure and then I realized with a disgusted shudder that he was shooting his cum inside me.

“God, I love Viagra! Three times without rest,” he smiled. “And I definitely feel like a fourth. What do you say, Desiree. Want to be on top, this time? My knees are killing me.”

“I’d rather die, el de atras,” I slurred.

“My Lord, sunset approaches,” a man said; his voice seemed distant even though I could see him standing right behind Brandon.

I moaned in relief as Brandon pulled out of me. He looked down at me, considering. “I can’t have you looking all ugly,” Brandon said with a shake of his head. He bent down and muttered a word and heat flashed through me and a scarlet light seemed to envelop my body. The heat banished the pain, and the fuzz clouding my thoughts was burned away as Brandon healed me. “Stand up, Desiree, I want you to see something.”

I felt dirty as I stood up, Brandon’s cum leaking out of my pussy. I wanted to throw-up, to run and hide, but I wasn’t going to give my rapist any more satisfaction than I had to. Holding my head high, I followed Brandon out into the exercise yard. While I had been lying senseless, a large fire had been built in the center, lighting up the courtyard as the sky darkened. The Mayor of Tacoma and his wife, Yoon, waited at the fire.

“You are familiar with the Magicks of the Witch of Endor?” Brandon asked and I nodded my head. “Well, it teaches a variety of ways to summon demons. They all will make Pacts with you. The only problem is the cost. Most demons want your absolute worship and obedience to grant your wishes. While others will have you preform tasks that will seem innocuous, at first, but will actually lead to your downfall. There are only two demons that have fixed prices: Lucifer, whom Mark and I both, have already dealt with, and Molech. Of course, Molech’s prices are very demanding.” Brandon held out his hand. “General Brooks.”

One of the military generals walked up and handed Brandon a long knife. The knife’s blade glinted orange and yellow in the firelight as it flashed through the air. I jumped in shock as Brandon drove the knife into Mayor Bray’s chest. The Mayor stared dumbfounded at the blade in his chest, the blood blossoming red through his shirt. Then General Brooks shoved the Mayor and he fell into the fire. Yoon screamed and collapsed to her knees, crying as her husband was engulfed in the flames.

“Molech, I give you this offering of noble blood,” Brandon intoned at the fire. “Cloak yourself in coals and flames and appear before your humble supplicant!”

The fire popped and crackled and then the flames exploded upward, white hot and screaming. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the terrible noise, the sound of thousands and tens of thousands of voices crying out in eternal agony. The sound of Damnation itself.

There was something moving in the flames. I flinched and stumbled back as a hulking figure stepped out. His skin was black as soot and covered in angry, red fissures that glowed with the being’s inner flames. His eyes were coals that burned with hatred, and the air danced and shimmered about him and smoke poured out of his nostrils and mouth. The fire abruptly died down and the terrible screaming stopped. The figure surveyed the crowed and everyone retreated before his terrible gaze.

Everyone, except Brandon.

The air reeked of rotting eggs and ash, and when the demon spoke, his voice was the roar of a furnace. “What do you wish of me, Mortal?”

“Free Desiree from Mark’s control,” Brandon demanded.

I shuddered in fear as Molech’s burning eyes fixed on me, peering into me, into my soul, leaving me feeling used. Soiled worse even than Brandon’s rapes. “Impossible. She is bound too tightly to him. What else, Mortal.”

Disappointment flickered on Brandon’s face. “Immortality, youth, and sexual stamina.”

“I require nine hundred sacrifices,” Molech answered grimly. “All women. If you fail to provide them to me, I shall take you as my sacrifice.”

“Done,” Brandon answered. The demon reached out and grabbed Brandon’s arm. When he released it, an angry-red brand circled his limb. Grimacing in pain, Brandon pointed at the sobbing Mayor’s wife. “Your first payment.”

Molech smiled and I could feel the lust radiating off of him. Rising from his groin was a black, smoking cock. He reached down and grabbed Yoon; her flesh shriveled where he touched her. She screamed in agony as he dragged her off into the prison. I fell to my knees, heaving violently. What sort of monster did I marry? Yoon’s screams echoed from the prison.

“Desiree,” Brandon said pleasantly when I finished vomiting. “If you don’t start acting like a good, submissive wife, I will give you to Molech and you can enjoy his embrace.”

I shuddered in fear, looking up at Brandon.

He was younger now, I realized, in his twenties. His clothes hung loosely on him, his balding hair had regrown and his now too-large pants slipped off his waist, revealing a muscular, flat stomach. His cock was hardening; Yoon still screaming in the background.

“When Molech is finished with Yoon, he will want his next woman,” Brandon threatened. “Your choice, Desiree.”

Yoon’s screams sent ice pumping through my veins. My will snapped before the fear of Molech. Feeling like the most disgusting, lowest creature in the world I knelt in submission before my rapist. I grabbed his cock, opened my mouth, and sucked it inside. I tried to look happy on the outside. I had to please him. I didn’t want to be given to Molech.

“Good,” Brandon purred, stroking my hair. “I’m so happy that you’ve finally realized your place, my love.”

Inside I cried. I was a filthy worm now, forever crawling in his muck.

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

Leah Hirsch-Goldstein-Blum – Tacoma, WA

I was alone after Mark told us to run and I hid beneath a rusty pickup truck. I was too frightened to move. Not even hunger, thirst, or my increasingly full bladder was strong enough to overcome my terror. It was after dark when they finally captured me. The soldiers ripped my bloody clothes off, laughing as they groped my breasts and ass. Then I was thrown into the back of an army truck with other naked, frightened women.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They say we’re being taken to the God,” a woman whispered in a hushed voice, an awed voice. “If we’re lucky, he’ll choose us for his harem.”

What happened if we weren’t lucky? I swallowed the question, not sure I wanted to know the answer. “I can’t be in his harem. I’m married!” Jacob and Rachel must be worried sick about me. I desperately wanted to see my wife and husband again.

“They shot my husband,” another woman sobbed. “He tried to stop them from taking me and…”

I hugged the crying woman. “Shh, everything will be alright,” I said. What else was I supposed to say? “I’m Leah.”

“Beatrice,” the woman sobbed.

I held her as the truck drove slowly through the city. A few more women and teenage girls were loaded into the back, all naked and shivering in fear. They were all pretty. Soon, we were pulling up at the Courthouse and the soldiers herded us out.

“Nice ass,” one said, giving mine a squeeze. I shuddered as his dirty fingers pawed me. “If you’re not chosen for the Harem, I’m gonna requisition you for myself.”

I shuddered in disgust. Other soldiers were molesting the women as they lined us up. I held Beatrice’s hand as we were marched into the jail. We had to navigate the corridors and pass through a half-dozen locked gates before we reached the exercise yard. It was full of nude women. There was a young man, naked, getting his cock sucked by a Latina woman and eying us as we were marched before him.

“You can stop, Desiree,” the man ordered.

I was surprised to see Desiree, her cheeks stained with tears, releasing his cock. She looked down at the ground the whole time, her eyes dead, as the man began to examine us carefully, grinning like a hungry wolf. Desiree looked so defeated. I had never seen the vivacious woman look so meek and scared. What had they done to her? I swallowed in fear, glancing at the man. He must be the one who attacked us.

“I am your God, Brandon,” he declared. “Worship me.”

All the women, Beatrice included, changed. He’s like Mark and Mary, I realized. A God. I was unaffected because Mark had gifted me with protection. The women were falling to their knees, crying out in awe at Brandon. I fell to my knees, and tried to sound like them. I couldn’t let Brandon know I wasn’t under his control.

He tapped three women on the shoulder. “You are my concubines. You love me and will do anything to make me happy. The rest of you, go wait in the exercise yard,” he said dismissively.

Neither Beatrice or I were chosen, and we were herded into the yard with the other women. They all looked fearful, glancing at a bonfire that slowly died down. Brandon gathered his concubines and Desiree, and left. I saw 51 and 27, two of the bodyguards, and moved towards them.

There was a blood-curdling scream from inside the prison. “What was that?” I asked one of the bodyguards.

51 just shook her head, a look of numb horror on her face. Dried blood streaked from a gash along her forehead.

“El Diablo,” 27 hissed in terror, her Latina face contorted in fear. She was a former LAPD officer, I vaguely recalled. One of the women who volunteered to join the bodyguard. “He comes. Chooses.”

“Chooses what?” Beatrice asked.

27 motioned at all of the women trapped in the exercise yard.

It wasn’t long before el Diablo came. I screamed in terror when I saw him. He was a hulking figure, skin black and cracked with glowing red, like cooling lava. The air stank of sulfur. All the women in the courtyard screamed in panic and shrank away from his gaze. I pressed back, fighting to get as far away from the monstrosity as I could.

“Save me!” I prayed loudly to my Living Gods, Mark and Mary. “Please, please come save your faithful servant! Deliver me from this abomination!”

A new scream, full of pain, rang out. The monster had found his sacrifice. His black fist was around the slim arm of a young, blonde girl. The demon mercilessly dragged her off, back into the prison. Relief flooded me. But it didn’t last long. After a half-hour, the demon, Molech, returned. Every thirty minutes, a new woman was selected and we all endured her screams, trembling in terror. By midnight I was numb. I didn’t care about anything. So long as I wasn’t chosen.

When the soldier grabbed me and led me off, I was relieved. It didn’t matter to me that he was going to rape me. I was getting out of the exercise yard; I was getting away from Molech. Three soldiers used me for an hour. I tried to be the best whore for them I could, putting all my years of partying to good use. I forced down the guilt of betraying Jacob and Rachel as I begged the men to fuck me harder and pretended to coo in pleasure as their cocks raped my holes.

I just couldn’t go back to the exercise yard. To Molech. I realized I would do anything to stay away.

When the soldiers were done with me, however, they dragged me kicking and screaming back to the yard, pushing me into the crowd. Sunday’s dawn was pinking the horizon. Maybe Molech was afraid of the sun. Maybe he wouldn’t come. That delusion quickly fled my mind, driven off by mind-numbing terror, as he stalked like an earthquake out of the prison. When he dragged off his newest victim, all I felt was relief. I wasn’t chosen.

Yet.

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

Lana Paquet-Holub – Seattle, WA

“Lana, bring me the twins,” Lilith commanded.

“Yes, my Goddess,” I answered, standing up.

For hours, Lilith has been brooding in her chambers, ever since Brandon’s dramatic attack on Mark and his occupation of Tacoma. Brandon had, in a single day, brought the entire United States to its knees. Only a few hours ago, the President himself had knelt and paid homage to Brandon, surrendering the Country to him.

All of our careful maneuverings in Seattle would be for naught with this new, and unanticipated, player. We had the Mayor under the control of Lilith’s daughter Lamia. And Ziki, another daughter, had assumed the form of Nate Kirkpatrick and slowly hired Lilith’s followers to key positions within the city’s government. We were so close to taking over the city and establishing Lilith’s rule.

So close.

And then this damned Brandon Fitzsimmons had to go and ruin it all!

Lilith must have a plan to stop him, I thought, as I threaded my way through the warehouse. It was owned by the City of Seattle and not currently in use. With the Mayor in our power, we quietly occupied it, moving Lilith’s Children and her pregnant followers here. Babylon’s house had quickly grown too crowded.

As I walked past the women they all bowed to me. Some were pregnant, while others had already birthed Lilith’s children. The children all stood out from us regular humans in some way—unusual colorings, abnormal heights, or strange features that made them look slightly different. My daughter, Cora, was a Manticore. She was big and had leonine features. Lamia, Chantelle’s daughter, had purple hair. Others stood out even more. Ziki, who masqueraded as Nate Kirkpatrick, was a freakish albino in her natural form.

And the twins were the strangest of all of Lilith’s children.

I found them with their mother, a recovering heroin addict named Andi. The twins were pale girls, their hair pure white and they lacked any pigment in their eyes. They were born yesterday, and would reach their maturity by tomorrow evening. When I entered the room, the twins jumped in surprise. One vanished completely, the other became translucent; I shuddered in discomfort as I could see straight through her.

They were both Dimme, more spirits than creatures of flesh. When they were translucent or invisible they could pass through solid objects. Lilith was ecstatic when they were born. “Dimme are assassins,” Lilith had purred when she saw the twins, “capable of penetrating an enemy’s defenses and killing their target with a single touch.”

They could only kill when they were solid. When they were vulnerable.

Most of Lilith’s children were immune to normal weapons. Only enchanted weapons or cold iron could hurt them. But a few, like the Dimme, were more vulnerable. As long as a Dimme remained translucent or invisible, she could not be harmed by anything. However, she could not affect anything, either. To kill, she had to become solid and leave herself vulnerable to any weapon.

“Di, Emi,” I said, holding out my hand. “Your Mother wishes to see you.” One of them reappeared, Emi I think, and Di became solid. They both gripped my hand, hesitantly, and I smiled shyly at them.

“Mother needs us?” Emi asked.

I nodded. “Come on.”

Both girls smiled and looked almost cute. Almost.

Lilith was waiting in her chambers, the former warehouse manager’s office. It was richly appointed. Persian rugs covered the floor, silk tapestries hung on the walls, and scented candles, held in gold sconces, lit the room, filling the air with sweet jasmine and spicy cinnamon. Lilith sat at her richly carved, mahogany desk and smiled happily when we walked in. She stood up from the desk and knelt down, her arms outstretched.

Emi and Di ran to her, laughing as their mother scooped them up in her arms. “Ohh, you two are growing up so fast,” Lilith praised, then kissed them both on their foreheads. “And so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, Mother,” Di politely said.

“No,” Lilith answered with a vain smile. “But then no-one is.” Lilith set her daughters down. “You two will be fully grown by tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, Mother,” Emi nodded. “By Sunday night.”

Lilith smiled broadly. “Good.” Lilith conjured the images of Brandon Fitzsimmons and Mark Glassner. Well, I thought it was Brandon she conjured. He looked younger and slimmer than he appeared on TV, with a full head of hair. Perhaps he cast a spell? Or did he make a deal with some demon? “Sunday night, when you are fully grown, you are to go south to Tacoma and kill these two men,” Lilith instructed her daughters.

Di and Emi both smiled. I suppressed a shudder. They were hungry, disturbing smiles. “Of course, Mother.”

Lilith spread out some maps and we began to plan the twins’ infiltration.

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

Mark Glassner – Tacoma, WA

“No, no!” Mary shrieked. “Mark, please! Help me!”

I strained against the chains, struggling to break the iron links, ignoring the pain in my bruised muscles and the bite of the manacles into the skin of my wrists. I screamed wordlessly in fear and rage. My tongue was gone; cut out on Brandon’s orders. And with my tongue gone, so went all my power. I couldn’t command people, I couldn’t cast any spells.

My tongue was my power.

Brandon ripped Mary’s dress, exposing her freckled breasts. A look of hunger crossed the fat man’s face. Mary had come to rescue me, and had failed. She turned to run and Brandon caught her by her long, auburn ponytail and yanked her back.

“No, no!” she cried out. “Mark, please! You have to save me! Please, please!”

Brandon hauled her back, throwing her to the ground. He was on her faster than I thought the fat man could move, pinning her beneath his monstrous bulk. Mary’s cries and whimpers tore my heart apart as I wrenched at the chains, heaving with all my might. I had to save my wife. I poured every bit of strength I possessed, ignoring all the hurts and pain I felt. None of that mattered. If I had to rip my arm off to save my Mary, then so be it!

“Bease,” I cried, without a tongue the word sounding like mush, as I heaved at the chain.

I pulled and pulled, my body screaming in pain. But it wasn’t the chain that gave out first, it was my body. I slumped, panting loudly. I failed her. Tears rolled down my cheek as the fat man pumped away atop my wife. Mary’s screams were daggers in my soul.

I failed her!

“Mark,” the chiming, ethereal voice whispered. “Awaken.”

Everything seemed to dissolve and then blow away as the melodic voice rang out. Brandon, Mary, the chains holding me down; all swept away. Even the pain was gone. My awareness returned to me and I exhaled in relief. This was a nightmare. I was asleep on the hard cot back in the jail.

I remembered thinking of Azrael as I fell asleep. I wanted to summon the Angel of Death to my dreams. She was the only one who could teach me how to harness the power of the Gift Tiffany gave me.

I turned to see Azrael standing behind me. Her hair was red as blood, floating about her fierce face; her skin gleamed as bright as burnished bronze, and she was clad in a robe of the purest white. Concern painted her face; her scarlet eyes strangely soft.

“Hello, Mark,” she greeted tenderly.

“I am ready to learn.”

She nodded. “The Gift manifests differently between men and women. For you, it gives peak physical strength, endurance, and reflexes for a man of your size. You can take more injuries and still function. A man without the Gift surely would have died from the beating you sustained. Your powers are geared to fighting the supernatural. Your primary ability is the Chereb prayer.”

“Chereb,” I whispered and jumped in surprise, dropping the gold blade that appeared in my hand. The moment I released it, the blade vanished into a thousand tiny, golden motes.

“Chereb, as you have noticed, conjures a blade of Celestial Gold, the weapon of an Angel. Sharp as a razor, but only capable of harming spiritual bodies,” Azrael explained. “Angels, demons, spirits, monsters, homunculi.”

“And how will that help free me?” I demanded, angrily. “Hell, the son of a bitch ripped my tongue out. I can’t even summon the sword if I wanted to.”

“It won’t,” Azrael answered, a hint of steel chiming in her voice. “But, once you are free, you may need this. The second basic prayer is Choshen. This will gird you in Angelic Armor, which is proof against most spiritual attacks. But it is not invulnerable. It also serves well against mundane attacks.”

I was growing more and more impatient. “Teach me something useful, dammit!”

Her scarlet eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The third basic prayer is all internal. Just imagine your body as healthy and whole as it should be and you shall be healed. No words need to be spoken. But it takes time, a few minutes, and it will leave you vulnerable.”

“And restrained,” I muttered.

“So, bide your time, wait for the opportunity, and seize it,” Azrael hissed in anger, her face a thunderstorm of fury.

I flinched, taking a step back. “But, how can I create that opportunity?”

“There is one prayer, gifted only to Shamans,” Azrael answered, calming down. “Because I am the Angel of Death, you may pull back the veil and summon help. It is very dangerous, the dead will draw on your life-force. I do not know how long you could maintain the summons. A few minutes, a few seconds, but it may give you the opportunity.”

“How?” I asked, frowning.

“Tsalmaveth.”

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

Violet Matheson – Tacoma, WA

“Violet,” Loreena said, shaking me awake. “Something is happening.” She spoke with a slurred, stiff speech.

Yesterday, Loreena had saved me. She took me into her house and we spent the night huddled on her bed watching TV. Watching Brandon Fitzsimmons declare himself God. It was totally surreal. Master was getting beaten so viciously, and then the President of the United States himself arrived and surrendered the country to that horrible Brandon.

“This can’t be happening,” Loreena had said as she read the subtitles. She was deaf and Brandon’s powers did not seem to affect her. “How can the President just surrender?”

“Brandon’s evil,” I answered, facing her so she could read my lips. “He sold his soul for dark powers.”

We fell asleep on her bed – her bedroom TV muted – drawing comfort from each other as the world descended into madness. The night was full of unnatural sounds. Helicopters were constantly flying overhead and gunshots would ring violently out through the night. Every time I woke up, I would clutch Loreena and she would hug me just as tight.

Now it was Sunday morning and Loreena motioned me to come to the window, the rising sun filling her room with a soft light. I walked over and glanced outside and saw soldiers marching a woman to a truck. She was naked and I could see other women in the back of the truck. At the next house, soldiers were kicking in the front door. I could hear faint shouts and then I jumped from the crack of gunshots. A minute later, the soldiers dragged a sobbing teenage-girl out, then ripped her clothes off. God, it looked like they were laughing at the poor girl.

Depositing the naked girl in the truck, the soldiers headed for the next houses on the street. My heart froze in terror. They were searching house to house, dragging out the women they found. And they were working their way to this house.

“We have to hide!” I shouted. Loreena ignored me as she stared out of the window in shock. I forgot she was deaf, so I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face me. “We need a place to hide.”

Loreena gaped at me, her eyes full of disbelieving horror. Yesterday, US Soldiers didn’t break down your door and drag you off. But that was before the world changed. Loreena glanced out the window, then took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed my hand and led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She pushed on some paneling on the wall below the stairs and it moved, revealing a crawlspace beneath the stairs.

I nodded to her and mouthed, “This would work.”

We both squeezed in, pulling the panel closed. It smelled musty, and cobwebs clung to my hair. I was too scared to care about that, too scared to wonder where the spiders were that made all these webs. We sat down, and leaned against unfinished wood and waited. My heart was thundering in my chest as I strained to hear what was going on. I wished I had a watch or something, to tell how long we had been in here. It felt like an eternity as we waited in the dark, straining to hear anything.

What was taking the soldiers so long? I was starting to feel sick in my stomach as I waited. The stress was too much. Please, just let them search the house and move on. I wasn’t sure how much more of this interminable waiting I could take. I tried to count my breaths, my heartbeats, anything to try and give me an idea of how much time was passing by.

Maybe the soldiers weren’t coming? How long could I wait in here? Had it been minutes or hours? I swallowed, wondering if maybe we should slip out and check. We could be real quick—pop out, peer out the window, and pop back into our hiding spot. The soldiers would never know. I was reaching for the panel, preparing to push it open.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I jumped in surprise, someone was pounding hard on the front door. The soldier hammered again, paused, then hammered a third time. “Open up!” a man shouted. “Open up in the name of your God! All Citizens are required to submit to searches!” He banged again. “Last chance, then we’re breaking the door down and executing whomever we find!”

There was a splintering crash, then booted feet pounded through the house. Dust fell down into my face as they raced upstairs, tickling at my nose. Oh no. I clasped my hand over my nose, trying to ignore the growing, tickling sensation. One of the soldiers was searching the first floor, the other the second. More dust trickled down and I could feel the sneeze building. Please no! Not now! The sensation was growing unbearable. Any second I would sneeze and they would find us and kill us. I fought it, suppressed the ticklish urge.

Achoo!

I jumped as Loreena sneezed, and fear surged coldly through my veins. Everything seemed to be quiet all of a sudden. Were the soldiers listening? Did they hear Loreena’s sneeze? They must be straining, trying to figure out where that sneeze had come from, looking for the place where we were hiding. I squeezed Loreena tightly, felt her heart thudding in her chest.

“Clear!” one soldier yelled from upstairs.

A soft moan came from Loreena and I could feel her trembling. She was deaf. She didn’t know what was happening. It was too dark in here for her to see my lips, to let me tell her to be quiet, that everything was okay. Her moan was growing louder; she was going to give us away. I had to silence her.

I kissed her.

Her lips were soft and moist. I could feel her tense in shock. She tried to pull away, and I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her tight, thrusting my tongue deep into her lips. I felt her start to relax; start to kiss me back.

“Clear!” the other soldier yelled back, and then the booted feet were stomping down the stairs and they were out of the house.

I kept kissing Loreena, our passions growing. All the stress of the last twenty-four hours melted away as I kissed this beautiful, kind woman. My hands reached out and found the cotton nightgown she was wearing, and I started hiking it up. She rose up and I pulled it over her ass. I rubbed at her pussy beneath her panties, feeling the soft hair and the growing wetness.

Her hands started touching me. I wore a borrowed nightgown and I helped her pull it up my body. I wore no panties and her fingers gently touched my bald, teenage cunt. I moaned into her mouth, enjoying her uncertain touch as she stroked my flushed vulva. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, stroking her silky pussy hair and finding her snatch dripping wet.

Loreena moaned into my lips as I gently stroked her clit. I shifted, turning to face her and scissoring my legs with hers. I scooted closer and closer until our pussies kissed. I started writhing my hip, sliding my wet pussy along her furry muff. It felt so good to forget about everything that had happened and lose myself in the pleasure of this woman.

She started humping me back and I broke the kiss to lean back on my elbows and really started to trib her. “Umm, your cunt feels so soft on mine!” I moaned, forgetting that she was deaf as my orgasm built inside me. “Fuck me! Yes, yes! I need this!”

Loreena was moaning just as loud, but wordlessly, a pure sound untainted by language. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out her form as she writhed in pleasure. One of her hands had pushed up her nightgown and fingered her nipple. Pleasure blossomed within me, every time my clit rubbed against her pussy it grew and grew.

“Yes! I’m coming! Oh, Loreena! Sweet Loreena, your pussy’s driving me wild!”

Loreena’s moans grew shrill and I could feel moisture flooding my pussy as her orgasm exploded through her. I shuddered a few more times, then stopped pumping my hips, breathing heavily. I leaned over, captured her lips with a gentle kiss, and hugged her tight. I tried to hold onto this happy, satisfied feeling.

But the fear and stress was bubbling back up.

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

Mary Glassner – Toulouse, France

It was late at night in France when we arrived, landing in Toulouse. Back home, it was Sunday afternoon, and I was told that all the footage from America was Mark getting beaten for the second day, interspersed with clips of the President surrendering to Brandon. I kept sending Mark supportive thoughts, letting him know that I had a plan, that I was coming for him.

I wasn’t going to let my husband down.

The eighteen hour trip to France had seemed to drag on and on. I couldn’t sleep, I could barely eat. All I could do was fret and stare out the window or open my locket that Mark gave me on the day I met him. It was silver, heart-shaped, with a pink rose sculpted into the front. It was absolutely gaudy, not at all something that I would have chosen for myself.

It was my favorite piece of jewelry after my wedding ring.

Inside were pictures of Mark and I. It comforted me on the interminable flight to open it up and stare at my husband’s face, stroking the tiny photo with a finger, and weep.

We barely made it out of the US; air travel was suspended as we took off from LaGuardia. We had to stop for fuel before crossing the Atlantic, and we had just gotten airborne when the order was given. Luckily, shutting down the Nation’s airspace takes time and we were able to slip out over the ocean without anyone stopping us.

The last five hours of the flight were the worst. That’s when they started beating Mark again. Every time my husband sent me a thought, I could feel the agony he was experiencing through his sending. I do not know how he is able to withstand it. Just the shadow of his pain was enough to make me cry. Somehow, despite the beatings, he told me about his dream, and what he learned from Azrael. He could conjure magical weapons and armor, he could heal himself, and summon the dead.

When we landed in Toulouse, France, transportation was waiting. I had made calls ahead of time to arrange for several vans and a police escort. The drive to Rennes-le-Château – a small, ancient village built atop a rocky hill that rose black out of the countryside – took maybe an hour. The only way up the cliff was a winding, narrow lane. Behind the Church of Mary Magdalene lay the Motherhouse of the Nuns that had twice attacked us. Both buildings were ancient, made of vine-covered stone pitted with age.

Silently, the SWAT officers slipped out of the vans in their black nomex, MP5s in their hands, and they quickly surrounded the Motherhouse. Meanwhile, the bodyguards formed a perimeter around the two buildings, supported by the French police. I leaned against the van, the September night air cool on my naked flesh. I never got a chance to get dressed, other things were just more important.

Five of the former SWAT officers stacked on the front door. They gave each other hand-signals, then opened the front door and moved quickly inside. Through the small, stained-glass windows, I could see their flashlights shining around as they searched the building. 47 leaned against the van next to me and squeezed my hand, smiling reassuringly at me.

After what seemed like an hour waiting in the cold, one of the SWAT reappeared and motioned to us. 47 formed a guard of four around me and we marched over to the SWAT officer. It was Duncan, who commanded the SWAT for us.

“Ma’am, we have a woman in custody,” he reported. “We found her in the basement. If you would follow me, please.”

“She was hiding?” I asked as he led me inside.

“No, she is waiting for you,” Duncan answered. “We found her just calmly sitting in this metal room, a pot of tea steaming on the table before her and two cups. There was not a hint of fear in her eyes.”

We walked through the narrow corridors then down a tight, narrow staircase into the basement. I shook with nerves. You can do this, Mary, I reassured myself. She is one woman and you have fourteen armed men and women immune to her powers, and there are more waiting outside.

In the basement, we walked past old cardboard boxes, reeking of mildew, stacked against one wall. At the far end was a black metal door carved with strange symbols. Inside, I could see a woman in a gray nun’s habit, a simple, white veil covering her head, sipping calmly from a cup of tea. She looked up at me and I froze; her dark eyes were ancient, far beyond the youth of her face.

Who was this woman?

Mom said she was a legend, over a thousand years old. Karen said she had been waiting two thousand years for this moment. I steeled myself and entered the room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it was black metal carved with the same strange symbols as the door. I froze, licking my lips. This was wrong. I should be running out of here. How can she be so calm? She must know what I am, what my soldiers are. She should be terrified, or at the very least nervous.

So why is she so calm?

“Would you like some tea?” she asked pleasantly in a thick, French accent. Her face was dusky, a warm and friendly smile graced her red lips, and dark hair peaked out from beneath her veil. She looked Middle-eastern, a little like our former slut Thamina.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I swallowed, glancing at 47. There was worry in her eyes. She sensed something was wrong, too. This woman was unnaturally calm. I glanced at the men guarding her and I could see the tension in their eyes, their guns readied in their hands. How are we all intimidated by this one, unarmed woman?

“Well, child, are you going to come in and sit down?” the woman continued. “I would like to talk with you. It is very important.”

“Fine,” I said, and sat down on the hard, wooden chair. She grabbed the porcelain teapot and poured me a glass of a spicy-smelling tea. I took it, sipping, then froze. What if she put something in it?

An amused smile flitted across the woman’s lips. “It is not poisoned or drugged, I assure you. Can you close the door so we may speak privately?”

I frowned, “No, my guards stay in here.”

“They are not the prying ears I care about,” the woman answered. “Please, I have much to tell you.”

I wanted to say no. I wasn’t here to talk, I was here to steal her Gift. Mark was getting beaten right now. There wasn’t time to waste on talking. And yet, her eyes were so ancient, so wise, I swallowed and found myself nodding my head. I did need something else from her, besides her Gift.

“I will close the door, if you hand over your copy of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor,” I told her. This entire mess was caused by Brandon getting ahold of that damned book. If we survived this mess, we needed to get our hands on the two copies that we didn’t have. No-one else could learn about it and use that knowledge against us.

“Alas, I do not have it,” she answered.

“Don’t lie to me!” I snapped. “I know it is here.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Wikipedia,” I answered. I felt foolish when I said that out loud.

She shrugged. “Feel free to search the place once we’re finished. But it is gone. I could not let you get your hands on it.”

I frowned. “I already have a copy of the book.”

“Copies are not the original,” she answered. “I have no idea where it is hidden now.”

What did that mean? The original must have something unique in it. Something dangerous. “Fine, humor her and close the door. Let’s hear what she says to try and stop me.”

“I cannot stop you from stealing my Gift,” she answered matter-of-factly.

The door closed with a metallic clang. “Who are you?” I asked. She was a Nun, I could see the golden aura about her. “Are you the Mother Superior?”

“I am Maryām,” she answered. “Once of the town of Magdala.”

My family was Irish; my dad was a lapsed Catholic, but I had been to a few masses. My heart skipped a beat. “That’s impossible.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “For two thousand years I have fought ha-Satan, the Adversary. I have learned much and more. I have this one warning for you, Mary. You and Mark are his pawns. Everything you do brings about his freedom from the Abyss. Him and all those bound with him.”

“You mean the Devil?” I asked and she nodded. “He is trying to escape Hell?”

“It is inevitable at this stage,” Maryām sighed. “The Supernatural has been revealed to the World. False Gods are once more being worshiped. The Evil of the days of Noah walks the world once more. It doesn’t matter if it’s you and Mark, or Brandon, or another pawn. Everyday, more and more people are deceived. The Prison is so weak, only one last event is necessary to bring it crumbling down.”

“Why are you telling me this? If it’s inevitable.”

“The Adversary can be contained, the damage done to the world can be mitigated,” Maryām answered. “You and Mark are lesser evils compared to the Adversary. I have read the future, I have seen the subtlety of his plan. If you and Mark defeat Brandon, Lilith will confront you and be killed. Her death will be the final blow that springs the lock, and the Adversary will be freed.” She took a sip. “If you are ready when Lilith dies, you may trap him.”

I swallowed. Mark and I had wondered what the Devil’s plan was, why he had given Mark Lilith’s gem. So this was it. To escape Hell. And what would happen once he was freed? Lilith clearly hates humans, but what about the Devil? And all those other demons trapped in Hell; do they hate us just as much? A chill ran down my spine.

What have we done?

“How can we trap him?” I asked, shaken by her words.

“I do not know. Search the old writings.”

“Old writings?”

“The Creator in his infinite Wisdom saw that many ancient works were preserved at Qumran.” She took one last sip of her tea. “This room, study it carefully. It is a Matmown. A Hidden Place. No spiritual being can pierce through its walls. The Adversary cannot spy on you here or accurately predict your future. What you plan in here will forever be hidden from him. It is the only advantage you will have. Your Vizier, Samnag Soun, should have no trouble re-creating the room. Never speak of your plans outside of this room, not even telepathically through the Siyach spell. Those thoughts pass through the spiritual realms and can easily be plucked out of the Ether. Only in a room like this are your plans truly safe from him.”

Maryām stood up suddenly and all my guards aimed their guns at her. She laughed, and to my surprise, she started stripping off her clothes. Her veil came off first, revealing her luxurious, dark hair. Then she untied the belt cinching her gray habit and pulled the robe off her body. She was naked underneath; her breasts were large, with dark nipples, and her stomach flat. She had curvy hips, and a thick, dark bush grew between her legs.

“So, you are the whore after all,” I laughed, drinking in her beauty.

Maryām grimaced, “I was never a whore. A sinner, yes, but never a whore. That was Pope Gregory I’s mistake. Men ever love salacious rumors and that one has dogged my reputation ever since.”

“Then why are you getting naked?” I asked.

“You plan on stealing my Gift. I know what that entails.”

The Ganubath ritual was the opposite of the Nun’s exorcism. I needed to bring Maryām to an orgasm, and when she cums, I would steal her Gift for myself. Maryām laid down on the cold metal floor, spreading her legs. I knelt down before her. I realized that I hadn’t had sex in over twenty-four hours. Since I met Mark, the only long stretches without sex were when I slept. Seeing her lying naked and willing, I felt my own pussy stir with arousal.

I knelt down. Her pubic hair was matted with her juices and I could smell her honey. I rubbed my face through her silky pubic hair, enjoying the way it tickled against my skin. I breathed deeply, then licked at her slit. Maryām moaned in pleasure. I spread open her slit, exposing the wet, pink flesh and buried my face into her lips.

I ate her quickly, devouring her tasty juices. I needed to get her off as fast as I could. Mark was waiting. I ran my tongue up her labia, my fingers gently circling her clit. Then I shoved my tongue as deep into her as I could.

Maryām was moaning something. It wasn’t French. It sounded like Hebrew, maybe. Or Aramaic. Her hips were starting to writhe. I drank her thick juices, sweet as honey, then slid my lips up to suck on her hard pearl. My tongue circled her clit as I slipped two fingers inside her pussy. She was tight and hot as I quested for her G-spot.

She cried out loudly when my fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves. Her orgasm crashed through her, flooding my lips. “Ganubath!” I screamed.

Golden power flowed out of Maryām and poured into me. It filled me, sinking into every single inch of my body, into my soul. I cried out, an orgasm exploding inside me. The power was so pure, so beautiful, that it left me trembling on the floor. I picked myself up, looking down at the panting Maryām. No longer was her aura gold. It was silver. She was just a regular woman now. Her eyes stared up at me, lidded with lust. When I made my Pact, I wished that every woman who saw me would desire me, and it was clearly working on Maryām now that the protection of her Gift was gone.

Exultation flooded me. I did it! I could stop Brandon. All I had to do was fuck him and this would be over.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 38.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 36: The God-King

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 36: The God-King

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Female/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Incest, Violence

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 35.



Saturday, September 28th, 2013 – Mark Glassner

I watched in stunned horror as the US soldiers opened fire on the Tacoma Police blockading the street in front of the courthouse. The soldiers had just roped out of a pair of hovering Black Hawk helicopters, attacking the police blockading the stretch of Tacoma Avenue in front of the Courthouse. As the soldiers spread out, I shouted orders into the microphone; my voice boomed out of the speakers placed around the square.

The soldiers ignored my commands.

A chill spread through me. They ignored my commands. I could see the black of their auras wreathed in the faintest red. They were Thralls under the protection of the Zimmah ritual, bound to some other Warlock. They were immune to my powers. Exactly the same way we made our family and sluts immune to anyone else’s orders.

Fuck! This was very bad!

There was a whirring sound, like a motor revving up, then a terrific roar and a gout of flame erupted from the side of one of the hovering Black Hawks. The mini-gun fired; I watched in horror as its bullets ripped through the police blockade. A second whirring sound built, and the other helicopter opened fire on the opposite police blockade. Golden tracers streaked down, raining death on the Tacoma police officers.

“Sir, let’s go!” 51 shouted, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the courthouse.

The crowd in front of the courthouse screamed in panic and ran for cover. My bodyguards formed a protective circle around me, dragging me back into the courthouse. They pulled Violet and Desiree into their circle of protection and herded us through the courthouse. I struggled to think but panic froze my thoughts. Soldiers bound to my enemy were attacking me. I was not prepared for this.

Holy shit! I was not prepared for this!

“Where are we going?” I asked, finally gathering some of my wits.

“The back of the Courthouse, on Yakima Avenue,” 51 answered. How did she sound so calm? “We parked the limo and our patrol cars back there, remember?”

“Right,” I nodded. We raced through the courthouse and I struggled to think despite the adrenaline that pounded through my veins. We were under attack by US Soldiers. We were not prepared for this. They could be coming for Mary, I realized; my eyes opened with horror.

They could be coming for Mary.

“51, Fallen Eagle!”

51 glanced at me, nodded, and pulled out her Nextel. They were similar to radios, but worked over the cell phone network. All of our bodyguards had one. “51 to all units, Fallen Eagle. I repeat, Fallen Eagle.”

Fallen Eagle. The code phrase for the worst case scenario—the hammer is falling and we need to get the hell out of Dodge.

Ever since the Nuns attacked us three months ago, I had been preparing for another attempt. The bodyguards had their instructions to get everyone they could to safety. In Kansas I had a bolthole prepared; a place where we could regroup and figure out how to face this new threat.

“47, copy Fallen Eagle.” 47 was with Mary back at the house; she would get my wife to safety.

Squad D reported in with Shannon and George in Chicago. Squads E and F, guarding our planes, also responded. Now we just had to move quickly and we might just be able to escape and figure out how to deal with this new, overwhelming force. We rounded a corner, and I could see the limo idling outside, the passenger door open and Leah waiting nervously, looking up at the sky.

“Hurry!” Leah shouted as we burst outside, beckoning urgently with her arm.

The moment we stepped outside sounds crashed into us. I could hear sirens coming in from every direction. 51 wore a police radio patched into Tacoma PD’s network, and I could hear the frantic calls for help from police officers completely outmatched by the soldiers. The roar of helicopters and gunshots echoed through the streets. Shadows passed overhead; I glanced up to see more Black Hawks escorted by smaller helicopters, black against the blue sky.

Holy shit! Did someone take control of the entire fucking army? Holy fucking shit!

I practically threw myself into the limo, followed by a crying Violet and a wild-eyed Desiree, her big tits flopping about as she dived in. Violet clung to me as 51 jumped in. Leah ran around, hopping into the driver seat. With an AR-15 clutched in her hand, 09 jumped into the passenger seat, while 32, also armed with an AR-15 piled in back with us.

What’s going on, Mark? Mary’s thought practically shouted in my mind.

Soldiers attacked the rally, I sent back, trying to keep my terror out of my sending. I’m okay; we’re in the limo and driving off. The soldiers are Thralls, protected with the Zimmah spell!

Oh my god!

The limo peeled out, following two of our bodyguard’s cop cars. Two more followed. They took the left at 9th Street, heading up to the top of the hill and away from the firefight at the courthouse. Relief washed through me as I stared through the rear window. I could see the soldiers at the intersection of 9th and Tacoma Ave, occupying the ruins of the police blockade. None followed us.

I sighed in relief. It looked like we were clear.

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

Mary Glassner

“Umm, that feels nice, Mom,” I moaned as she lapped at my pussy.

I was feeling better after the bout of morning sickness I had. Mom had shown up and we started playing with the fruit Mark had left for me before he went to the gun-buyback rally in Tacoma. I would have gone with him but I had a rough morning. I rubbed my stomach, excited to be pregnant, and hating all the little inconveniences it brought on.

After spending most of the morning vomiting, I decided to skip the rally and take a nap. I woke up refreshed and famished when Mom came in to check up on me. Then we started having so much fun eating strawberries and pussy-cream, and I ate an entire peeled banana out of Mom’s cunt. We made a mess, but that’s why we had a washing machine.

Mom’s tongue felt amazing on my pussy and I was getting closer and closer to an orgasm, when I heard footsteps racing up the stairs. I sat up on my elbows, looking at the bedroom door, frowning. What was going on out there? Mom stopped licking at my pussy, and sat up as the door burst open and 47 raced towards me, her light-brown hair streaming behind her.

“Ma’am, we need to go right now!” the second-in-command of our bodyguard shouted. “Fallen Eagle!”

My mind went blank with panic. She grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me to my feet. Two more bodyguards were right behind her and one grabbed my mother. She said Fallen Eagle; that was the code used if something really, really bad has happened. Fear clutched at my stomach as 47 tried to pull me out of the room. Oh God, only Mark or I could give that command.

“We need to go, ma’am!” 47 insisted.

“My locket!” I cried. Fallen Eagle meant that we were abandoning our home. We might never get to come back. I couldn’t leave without my locket; Mark gave it to me the day we met. Next to the wedding ring on my finger, it was the most important thing I owned. I ran to my dresser and opened my jewelry box, pulling out the silver heart with the pink rose sculpted on the front. I quickly pulled it over my head to let it dangle between my breasts along with my protection amulet. Then I let 47 drag me out of the room.

I concentrated, using our new communication spell, and sent my panicked thoughts to Mark, What’s going on, Mark? Mark’s reply sent ice flooding through my veins; a Warlock attacked Mark with soldiers bound by the Zimmah ritual. My heart hammered in fear. What could we do against Thralls that we couldn’t use our powers on? And he said soldiers. God, that’s like the SWAT attack last June on steroids!

We raced out of the house, and the street bustled with activity. Some of the bodyguards were watching vigilantly, AR-15s in their hands, while the rest were herding our family and servants out of their houses and piling them into the fleet of black SUVs we owned. One of the SUVs was waiting in the driveway, and I jumped in along with my mom. Lillian, Xiu, and Korina piled into our SUV and the rest of our sluts piled into a second vehicle.

In just a few minutes, everyone who lived in the neighborhood – our sluts, our families, and our important servants – were loaded into SUVs and we were off. The plan was to drive north, to Boeing Field in Seattle. Our Gulfstream was too well known. Any enemy attacking us was sure to try and seize it or stop us from reaching it. Julius Prescott III, a billionaire we knew, owned a freight airline known as Air-Cargo, and we arranged for a hangar of his at Boeing Field to be set aside to house a 747 airplane. Hopefully, our enemy did not know about this plane.

In five minutes, we were clear of our neighborhood, driving north at breakneck speed. I could hear all sorts of chatter on 47’s police radio and on the Nextel. “What’s going on?” I asked 47.

“A Police Tactical alert has just been issued,” 47 answered. “There are reports of US soldiers setting up roadblocks around Tacoma, and a convoy of Strykers is rolling up 512 towards South Hill. They’re running cars off the road, ma’am.”

“Strykers? Those are armored tanks, right?” I asked in fear.

“Armored personnel carriers, ma’am,” 47 corrected. “Not as heavily armored as a tank, but just as dangerous. Squad E has abandoned the Gulfstream. They saw several Black Hawks flying towards Thun Field.”

Please let them not know about our other plane, I begged silently. Please!

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

Brandon Fitzsimmons

“My Lord Fitzsimmons, we’ve taken the courthouse,” Colonel Abbey said.

He was sitting right next to me, but the only reason I could hear him over the roar of the helicopter’s rotor was through the chopper’s internal intercom. We were in the Command Information Center, or CIC, Black Hawk, hovering high over Tacoma. I was wearing an uncomfortable helmet with headphones over my ears that blocked most of the Black Hawk’s rotor noise. Colonel Abbey was the G3, or operations officer, for I Corp and was coordinating the occupation of Tacoma.

“Do you have Mark?” I demanded.

I could almost taste my victory. Mark Glassner would soon be mine along with his wife, Mary. I would make her my concubine, force Mark to watch as his lovely wife became my whore. It was what he deserved for stealing my beautiful Desiree. I looked down at Tacoma, as we flew above it in the Black Hawk. The Army Rangers that had fast-roped into Tacoma were surrounding the courthouse as the Stryker Brigade barreled down the freeway to secure the city.

The main part of Tacoma was built on a peninsula that jutted out into Puget Sound. There were about a dozen roads that crossed the Nalley Valley that separated the peninsula from the mainland. If those streets were blockaded, the city would be cut in half and trap anyone on the peninsula, including Mark if he managed to escape the courthouse.

“My Lord, Chalk 2 reports a limo heading west on 9th Street with a police escort,” Colonel Abbey reported after a minute. If I remembered the briefing correctly, a chalk was a group of rangers deployed out of the same helicopter. Chalk 2 was tasked with taking the intersection of 9th Street and Tacoma Avenue.

“Damn it,” I snarled. “I want that limo stopped and everyone inside captured.”

“Absolutely, my Lord,” Colonel Abbey replied. “Bandit 1 and Bandit 3, do you have eyes on a limo heading west from the courthouse?” I couldn’t hear the reply; I was only listening to the helicopter’s internal comms, not the battle comms. Colonel Abbey nodded. “Disable the vehicle and provide support. Raider 3, head west and drop your chalk on that vehicle.”

Bandits were the Little Birds, small, agile helicopters armed with mini-guns that were quite deadly in urban operations. Raiders were the Black Hawks carrying a chalk of Rangers. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance, I thought with a smile.

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

Mark Glassner

The limo bounced around on Tacoma’s streets. The city had lost the war against potholes years ago, and the streets grew worse and worse every year. Leah must be doing nearly sixty as we raced away from the courthouse, and we were being thrown about in the back.

“Hold on!” Leah shouted, braking hard, and then the limo made a sharp turn onto Sprague Avenue and we were racing south.

Violet still clung to me, sobbing into my chest. “Shh, it’ll be alright,” I told her, stroking her brown hair. Though I wish I could believe that.

I heard the roar of a helicopter and I started looking up at the sky in fear. Violet buried her face into my chest at the sound. “Shit, it’s in front of us!” Leah shouted.

I bent down to look out the front of the limo and saw streaks of yellow raining down from the sky. Tracers, I realized, as the lead cop car seemed to explode in sparks, and careened off to the side of the road. The second cop car tried to swerve; a torrent of bullets shredded its trunk. The tracers marched quickly towards us; it sounded like heavy rain as the bullets struck the limo’s armor. The windshield splintered. Desiree was engulfed by blue light as her amulet deflected a bullet. The limo swerved suddenly to the left. There was the sound of metal crunching and I was flung forward, my seatbelt digging into my chest and waist.

What the fuck just happened? My mind was fuzzy and I groaned in pain. “We need to move,” someone shouted.

“Leah’s shot!” another person shouted.

“Shit!” Someone was shaking me. “Sir, we need to move!”

A Black woman’s face hovered in front of me, urgently speaking to me. It took me a moment to realize it was 51 and I blinked, looking around. There were dents and holes in the roof of my armored limo. In the front seat I saw Leah slumped over the steering wheel, blood staining her back. The bodyguard in the passenger seat was struggling to open the passenger door. 51 pulled out her folding knife and quickly cut my jammed seatbelt.

“Leah,” I shouted, climbing across the limo and grabbing her. I concentrated on her being healed, and whispered, “Tsariy,” and red light engulfed her body. She convulsed. When the scarlet light faded, she sat upright, perfectly healed. Around her neck, the bronze amulet smoked, the protection spell overwhelmed by the helicopter’s mini-guns.

“We need to go, sir!” 51 shouted, grabbing me and pulling me out of the limo.

We had crashed into a traffic light, the metal pole bent and fallen across the top of the limo. The hood was torn to pieces and white smoke curled serpentine up into the air from the engine block. Metal scars and pockmarks littered the body of the limo where the armor had withstood the mini-gun’s fire. I looked for our escorts and saw the twisted remains of the four cars. The helicopter’s guns had shredded them into mangled mockeries of a car.

Two bodyguards were crawling out of the mangled mockeries – their amulets must have saved their lives – but the other four must be lying dead or dying in the wreckage of their cars. I started to run for the nearest one when 51 grabbed me and pointed up at the sky. Two small helicopters, both of which had large mini-guns slung on their sides by the landing skids, were banking around, and beyond them a Black Hawk was swooping towards us.

“Leah, Violet, and Desiree, scatter!” I shouted. “They’re after me, you might get away!”

09 led, running with her AR-15 out, heading down an alley between two buildings. I followed, 51 and 32 on either side with 18 and 27, the two survivors from the escorts, bringing up the rear. The downdraft from the Black Hawk slammed into us and kicked up stinging dust as it banked overhead. I saw the rope drop out the side of the helicopter; the soldiers began deploying.

“Shit!” 51 shouted. “Back, back!”

We turned and saw one of the small helicopters hovering at the mouth of the alley, cutting us off. There was a fence and someone’s yard to the right and I jumped, grabbing the top and easily hauling myself over. I was never more thankful for getting the Gift from Tiffany than right now. It gave me increased physical strength and stamina, and I was going to need every advantage I had to survive this.

51 followed me over the fence. Gunfire rang out and 32 was halfway over when a bullet bounced off her shielding. She made it over as the fence splintered from the gunfire. I could hear the remaining bodyguards returning fire in the alleyway, buying us time.

“Keep running!” 51 shouted.

I ran across the yard, glancing over my shoulder to see that damned helicopter dogging our steps. The pilot must be radioing our position. I reached the opposite fence, jumping up and quickly scrambling over. As I lowered myself on the other side, I froze. 32 had stopped, and was kneeling in the middle of the yard, aiming her AR-15 at the small helicopter. She started carefully firing at it, rounds striking the windshield of the helicopter. It pivoted smoothly, lining up its guns at 32.

“Run!” I shouted as 51 scrambled over the fence. “Run, 32!”

She ignored me. The only time the bodyguards could ignore my orders was to protect my life. Fire spat from the helicopter, clods of dirt exploded around 32. She kept calmly firing. Blue energy sprang up around her as the rounds struck her protective charms. For a second I thought she was going to be fine, then the spell was overwhelmed and the bullets ripped through her body.

One of her rounds must have hit something important, because the helicopter started pitching to the side. I could see the pilot inside struggling with the yoke. The copter drifted closer and closer to a tree. Branches flew as the blades dipped in, and then there was a woody thunk and a loud, splintering sound. The rotor blades disintegrated, throwing debris everywhere. The chopper spun in the air and slammed into a shed with a satisfying crunch of metal.

I started to climb back over; if I reached 32 before she died I could heal her. “She’s dead, sir,” 51 said as she grabbed my arm. “You’re not. Do not let her death be in vain.”

I cursed, and let go of the fence. We were out on a side-street and we could hear booted feet approaching. We cut diagonally across the street, racing for a small, brown house with a mossy roof. There were several cracking pops from behind us; suddenly everything around me went blue. My amulet just stopped a round, I realized. Adrenaline was screaming through my veins. There were more gunshots; I could hear bullets whizzing past and blue erupted around me a second time, a third time.

“Shit, the car!” I shouted, pointing at the beat up, gray Plymouth with red primer staining the hood. “The amulets won’t take much more gunfire!”

I slid down behind the Plymouth as gunfire pounded against the car; glass shattered and metal pinged with every bullet strike. My heart was hammering. I risked a glance around the car and saw the soldiers at the corner. Several were firing at us while others dashed across the street. Fire and maneuver, I think it was called. 51 shot back with her 9mm service pistol and the soldiers hit the dirt and returned fire, and 51’s amulet deflected two rounds.

I didn’t see an escape. There was no cover for twenty or more feet and there were just too many soldiers. Mary, I love you, I sent. I don’t think I’m getting out of this one.

No! I can’t lose you, Mark!

I swallowed. There was only one hope. Tiffany said Monks were fighters, that their powers were combat oriented. I was as physically strong as a man could be, with quick reflexes. If I charged them, maybe somehow I could defeat them. I hoped that the amulet might sustain a few more shots. I readied myself, took a deep breath, and burst out from the car and ran as fast as I possibly could, as fast as any Olympic sprinter. The distance between me and the soldiers disappeared rapidly.

The soldiers were startled by my sudden charge, but their training took over and they opened fire. The world turned blue about me as the amulet deflected another shot, and then I was on the first soldier. He rose, bracing himself as I slammed into him. He fell back hard, and I nearly lost my balance and fell with him. A second soldier leapt at me; we grappled.

I was stronger than the soldier, more agile, but I lacked any training. I didn’t know how to fight. The soldier did. I pushed him off of me and took a clumsy swing at his face. He easily grabbed my arm, did something with his hip, and I was flipping over him and falling on my back. I grunted, the wind knocked out of my lungs. The soldier pulled out his knife, and before I could react, it was pressed against my throat.

I froze.

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

Mary Glassner

I’m captured, Mare, Mark sent me, keep going. The Nextels are going to be compromised now. Keep going, be safe! I love you.

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. I’ll save you, somehow! I thought back. We’re racing to the airport. Just hang in there. I love you!

“47,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “Mark is captured. The Nextels are probably compromised.”

“I understand, ma’am,” 47 replied. Her hand shook as she picked up her Nextel. “47 to all units, communications no longer secure. I repeat, communications not secure.”

Then she tossed her Nextel out the window.

Mark was captured. My mom wrapped her arms around me, holding me to her and suddenly all my emotions were pouring out of me as I sobbed into her breast. She stroked my hair and rocked me gently, just like she did when I was a child.

“Oh, Mom, what am I going to do?” I cried.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “We will figure it out.”

In thirty minutes we reached Boeing field; I sobbed the entire way. We passed through the security gates and raced to the hanger. Our flight crew was waiting. Once we bought this plane, we moved our pilots, Joslyn and Lydia, here just in case.

Lydia was waiting outside for us. “Miss,” she greeted, her face pale with fright. Like all our close employees, Joslyn and Lydia were bound to Mark with the Zimmah ritual. “What is going on?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but more tears leaked out of my eyes and I couldn’t bring myself to say what happened. Mark was captured. What was I going to do? I just climbed on board and sat down in First Class, pressing my face to the cold window.

I love you, Mark, I thought to him. Stay strong! I will find a way to save you. I just wished I believed myself.

Love you, Mark sent back and I could feel his fear.

Everyone else was boarding. Mark’s mom Sandy squeezed my shoulder before she found a seat next to Betty, her girlfriend. My Dad and Mom sat next to each other. Mom was still naked from our lovemaking. Hell, I was too. There hadn’t been time to get dressed. All I had on was my wedding ring, my locket, and my protective amulet.

“It’ll be all right,” Missy, my younger sister, promised. She grabbed my hand, squeezed it, then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. Then she sat down next to her boyfriend Damien.

Mark’s sister Antsy and her girlfriend Via were the last of our family to board. Only Shannon and her fiancee were missing. But they were in Chicago attending a conference for George’s job. The sluts boarded next and Lillian sat next to me and hugged me.

“It will be okay, Mistress,” she whispered. I wished I could believe her.

We waited for Squad E. They managed to get clear of Thun Field ahead of those soldiers and arrived fifteen minutes after we did, piling into the plane. Lydia closed and sealed the door, then sat down in the cockpit. We started taxiing to the runway. The engines revved and roared louder and louder as the pilots throttled up for takeoff. Then I was shoved back into my seat, and my stomach sank as the plane raced down the runway and leaped into the air.

We’re in the air, Mark, I sent to him. Your mom and Antsy are with me.

Good! I could feel the relief in his thought. He was worried about me. I wanted to cry again. Why should he be worried? I wasn’t the one captured by our enemy. The plane banked, turning to take us to Kansas and the decommissioned missile silo that was our emergency bunker.

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

Mark Glassner

I felt relief wash through me. Mary and my family were safe; that was one less thing to worry about.

I lay facedown on the street, a soldier’s boot pressed into the back of my neck, the cold barrel of his M16 touching my cheek. My hands were zip-tied behind my back, a disgusting rag was shoved into my mouth and tied in place by a strip of cloth wrapped around my head. 51 lay next to me; the butt of a rifle had slammed into her face, opening a gash across her eyebrow.

“Up!” a soldier shouted and the one standing on my neck released me and hauled me to my feet.

Several tan Humvees rolled up. I saw 27 in the backseat of one of the Humvees and Desiree sat next to her. But I didn’t see Violet or Leah. Maybe they got away? Unless they were dead. I pushed that thought away as they forced me into the second Humvee. 51 was pushed in after me, her body leaning up against me. There was a dazed look in her eyes.

The Humvee drove off, heading back down to the courthouse. We passed columns of big, bulky armored vehicles bristling with weapons. Strykers, I think they were called, carrying infantry. More soldiers were guarding intersections; one would be manning a .50 cal machine gun while two more stood by holding M16s. Then we passed the wreckage of the firefight in front of the courthouse. Some of the soldiers were clearing away the shot up police cruisers, while others carried bodies to a waiting truck. And it wasn’t only dead police officers they carried, but civilians attending the gun-buyback that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

More civilians were sitting on their hands in the square before the Courthouse, watched over by dozens of soldiers. Some of the crowd looked scared, others were bewildered. They couldn’t believe that US Soldiers would attack them. That didn’t happen in America. That happened off overseas in some despotic country like Syria or North Korea. Not here. Not in America. A few had defiant looks on their faces, staring angrily at the Soldiers. Off to the side, the media were guarded by more soldiers, but they were being allowed to continue reporting. I could see all the cameras pointing at our convoy of Humvees, ready to broadcast my humiliation to the world.

And probably my execution, I thought bleakly.

The Humvees stopped in front of the courthouse, the door opened, and a soldier hauled me out. I saw his face. He was young, maybe eighteen, his eyes bright blue. There was a hard cast to his youthful features, his grip iron on my arm as he pushed me forward. I stood up straight as the eyes of the captured civilians fell on me. Shock and horror filled the faces of those that believed I was a God, then despair filled their eyes.

Guilt filled me. I had let them down. I wasn’t strong enough to protect them. But what could I do against an army? My greatest power was nullified by the Zimmah ritual. How could a Warlock put so many under his power? Every soldier I saw had their black aura fringed with a trace of red, the sign that they were bound by the spell. What could I do? What could Mary do? Despair crashed through my soul.

How was I getting out of this?

As we approached the courthouse the doors opened and a short, fat man in an expensive Italian suit, charcoal gray, stepped out. He was balding, his hair gray, and a look of triumph filled his eyes. I recognized him, Brandon Fitzsimmons. How the hell had Brandon bound anyone with the Zimmah spell? His mother was dead. A male Warlock needed his mother to perform the spell.

Brandon wasn’t alone. Flanking him were two women, scantily clad, that could almost be Mary’s long lost sisters. They were twins, with auburn hair and green eyes, and Mary’s heart-shaped face.

“Kneel before your God!” the soldier leading me barked and kicked me in the back of the knee. My leg folded out from under me and I fell painfully to my knees.

Brandon stepped up to the microphone. “I am Brandon Fitzsimmons!” his voice boomed through the speakers. “I have defeated the false God, Mark Glassner!” He paused, his words echoing through the air. “I am your God and King! Worship me! Obey me!”

I could hear the crowd behind me change as his commands sank in. I glanced behind me to see all the fear, the despair, the anger, melt away and awe replace it. They all had black auras and I could just make out a fringe of red. It was even worse than I could have imagined. He somehow was binding people to him without using the spell, just by speaking. I was immune to his powers; one of the benefits of the Gift.

Mary, the Warlock is Brandon Fitzsimmons. Do not listen to anything he says. You cannot afford to fall under his power. His words bind people with the Zimmah spell.

I let Brandon’s speech roll over me as Mary’s reply came back, What am I going to do, Mark? I need you. I feel like I’m falling apart.

You have to be strong, Mare, I told her.

How?

You’re the only hope we have. I need you. I love you. I know you can be strong! I believe in you! I had to. She was the only hope I had. And only if Brandon didn’t immediately execute me.

Why are you comforting me? I’m the one who’s safe. I should be comforting you. I could sense that she was calming down. I will find a way to save you, Mark. I promise!

Brandon was standing in front of me, I realized, and I defiantly stared up at him. “You’re immune to my powers, I see,” Brandon grimaced, then glanced at Desiree. “And my wife, too.”

“I’m not your wife anymore,” Desiree snarled. “I dumped you for someone better.”

Brandon smacked her with the back of his hand. “Quiet, woman. I’ll deal with you soon enough.” He turned to one of the soldiers, “Where’s his wife?”

“My Lord, two women escaped in the confusion, we are hunting them down,” the soldier reported. “I do not think either is Mary. Both appeared to be brunettes.”

“Dammit,” Brandon hissed. “Did you secure that Gulfstream of his at least?”

“Yes, My Lord,” an older soldier reported. He had eagles on his uniform so I think that made him a Colonel.

Brandon smiled, “Good, they’re trapped in the state. Our troops are heading for the passes?” The soldier nodded. He must mean the passes over the Cascade Mountains to Eastern Washington. “What about his house? Did you find anyone there?”

“Empty, my Lord,” the Colonel reported. “We missed everyone. The entire neighborhood was packed up.”

“Fuck! Burn the neighborhood,” Brandon ordered. “And that damned tent where his worshipers meet. Kill any who resist. Find where his servants went! You’ll find his wife with them.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the Colonel saluted.

Brandon turned to the crowd and took a microphone from one of the auburn-haired twins. “Here is your false God!” A boo rose up from the crowd. Just an hour ago these people cheered me; I never realized just how frightening my powers were. “He is only flesh and blood! He is weak and was defeated by the merest fraction of my power. Let me show you just how weak and human he really is!” He motioned to the soldiers.

The gag was cut off and two soldiers grabbed my head, prying my lips open. I fought, struggling to get free of their grasp, to close my mouth. A third soldier drew a knife. I struggled harder. What were they doing? I fought in vain to break free, to keep that glinting knife away from me. The third soldier forced his dirty fingers into my mouth, gripping my tongue. The blade flashed and blood filled my mouth.

“Master!” Desiree cried out, barely heard over the crowd’s roar.

Disbelief almost drowned out the pain. They had cut my tongue off! How could I use any of my powers without my tongue? I was thrown down onto my back; then the kicking started. Pain exploded in my back, my stomach, my legs. I curled up into a ball, trying to protect myself as booted foot after booted foot slammed into me.

I howled wordlessly in agony.

Over the pain, I heard Brandon’s voice roar, “Mary Glassner! Your husband will be abused day and night until you turn yourself in. Submit to me and be my concubine, and your husband shall go free!”

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

Mary Glassner

I was sitting in first class alone, save for my mom and little sister. I couldn’t stand everyone looking at me so I ordered them back to coach. Mom and Missy ignored me, sitting with me and holding my hands. Back in coach, they were watching the news. I was the only one that couldn’t watch it, the only one who couldn’t watch to see what was happening to my husband. Everyone on the plane but me was bound by the Zimmah ritual. I was the only one susceptible to Brandon’s power, and I could not afford to get bound to him.

I needed to be strong, for Mark, for our family. We were all dead if Mark died. My life was tied to his, our loved ones’ lives tied to ours. It all rested on my shoulders, and I felt like I was about to be crushed beneath the weight. How could I bear all this responsibility? I was only nineteen, barely an adult. My shoulders were just too slim to support this weight!

I thought of Mark, his boyish grin and deep-blue eyes. Mark needs me to be strong, to save him. I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. I pushed at the despair, forcing it back. We were all lost if I fell apart. There had to be a way out of this. Just stay calm and think, Mary.

But I couldn’t!

My mind kept drifting back to Mark. I would struggle, trying to focus, and an image of Mark being hit would fill my mind. Of Mark placed before a firing squad, shot dead. Of Mark getting hung. I would force the images away, and even worse ones would slip into my mind.

Dad walked up from coach, his presence dragging me out of my morbid thoughts. He looked haggard as he gazed at me. He swallowed, then opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. His long, red hair, streaked with gray, fell loosely about his shoulders, not pulled back into his usual ponytail. My stomach sank. “What, Dad?” I wearily asked.

“Mark’s on TV,” Dad said. “They’re beating him.”

“What else?” I asked, sensing Dad was holding back on me.

“You can’t go back,” Dad firmly told me.

“I know,” I said sadly.

“This Brandon, he says Mark will be beaten day and night until you surrender yourself to him and be his concubine.”

I felt hysteria bubbling up inside me, almost bursting out in a laugh. Of course; he wants to do to me what we did to Desiree. Mark humiliated Brandon that day, took his wife in front of him. He wants revenge.

Mark, I am going to save you! I sent, mustering all my confidence and determination.

I’m fine. Do not turn yourself in. I can take it. I could feel his pain; I wanted to cry, but I had done enough of that.

I won’t. I’m going to save you, somehow. Be strong, Mark! I looked at Dad, and ordered, “Get Sam.” I felt a steely resolve growing inside me; I will save Mark. We had the Book, the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. The answer must be in there, somewhere. A way to neutralize Brandon’s powers or give me more power or something.

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

President Baumgarten

“Mr. President,” Eustace Smyth, my Chief of Staff, said, holding up the phone. “He wants to speak with you.”

I frowned, watching the TV. They were still beating the despicable Mark Glassner. For the last few months my cabinet and I had argued what to do about him. He was a dangerous man, somehow corrupting anyone that came into contact with him. My cabinet was split; some championed Mark and his sexual politics, others thought he was the most dangerous threat to the US since the war of 1812, and should be assassinated. But that was illegal. I was the President of the United States, sworn to uphold the Constitution, sworn to obey the laws. I would not, could not, approve assassinating a US Citizen.

“Who’s on the phone?” I asked. The world had changed today. My new God, Brandon Fitzsimmons, had finally overthrown the false God Mark and was hunting down his wife, Mary.

“Him,” Eustace said with emphasis and I finally understood.

I snatched the phone from him. The moment Brandon had spoken during his press conference, it all became suddenly clear. Brandon was the true God and had soundly defeated the false one. No, Brandon wasn’t a God, he was the God.

My God.

“This is the President, my Lord,” I respectfully said.

I found myself to be suddenly nervous as I spoke to an actual God. I’ve spoken to almost every Head of State on the planet, knowing every time that I was more powerful than any of them. For the first time since I was elected President of the United States, I was the lesser power.

It was humbling.

“You shall fly to Tacoma with your cabinet and surrender the Country to me,” my God ordered.

“Absolutely, my Lord,” I answered. The phone clicked as my God hung up on me.

I was going to meet my God in person. I never thought it would happen while I was alive.

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

Mark Glassner

The beating seemed to go on for an eternity. An eternity of pain and suffering. This must be hell, I thought with bleak amusement. I sold my soul and my punishment was to be beaten by the followers of a man I wronged.

It was poetic.

I had used my powers for my own pleasures, not caring about the lives I hurt or destroyed. Mary was right to free our slaves, and to tell me not to break up relationships just because I was horny or feeling vindictive. I needed to be responsible with my powers.

I passed out sometime during the beating. The pain brought me back to consciousness. I lay on something hard, cold; the agony slowed my mind. I fought through the fog, struggling to move, to survey my surroundings. Metal clinked, digging into my wrists and ankles; they had manacled me hand and foot, and dumped me onto the floor of a jail cell. Two soldiers stood outside the bars, M16s grasped in their hands, uncaring eyes fixed on me, like I was an insect in a collection, pinned to a piece of cork.

My mouth was parched, and I spotted a sink. I struggled to move, desperate for water. The pain was excruciating just stretching my legs, the metal of the leg irons biting into my ankles, constricting my movement. I did not know why I was still alive. I think it was the Gift; a lesser man surely could not have survived. I grit my teeth, mustered the will to fight through the pain, and pulled myself across the rough floor. The metal sink was above me, and I tried to grab the rim with my right arm, momentarily forgetting the foot of steel manacling my wrists together. Grunting, I pushed myself up onto my knees, then grasped it with both hands, pulling myself up and staring at my reflection in the polished, stainless steel mirror.

My face was a bloody ruin, swollen so badly that I couldn’t recognize myself. I opened my mouth and saw the ruins of my teeth and inspected the damage: gums bleeding, shattered molars throbbing in pain, gaps where front teeth were missing. I was naked, I realized, except for the manacles biting into wrists and ankles. I didn’t even remember them stripping me naked, and blacks and blues and yellows covered my body. There didn’t seem to be any part of me that wasn’t bruised.

I cupped cold water in my hands, the chains rattling, and slowly sipped it tenderly, trying not to brush my swollen face. The shooting pain in my broken teeth increased as the cold water poured into my lips. I closed my eyes, and forced myself to keep drinking through the pain. I drank until my stomach felt ready to burst, then I stumbled to the cot.

We’ve landed in Kansas, Mary sent me as I curled up on the hard mattress, trying to get comfortable despite the metal restraining me.

Good. The beatings have stopped. I think I’m going to sleep.

I love you! Your filly is going to save you. There was such certainty in her voice.

I know you will. I sent with all the confidence I could muster to her, fighting back my despair. Mary was free. As long as she was, there was still hope. Love you.

All I could do was sleep. I was so exhausted. I closed my eyes and started to let sweet unconsciousness take me when I realized something. I had ignored my Gift, wanting nothing to do with the Heavenly Power. I could afford to ignore the power no longer. I concentrated, thinking of the Angel Azrael, as I drifted off into unconsciousness.

Summoning the Angel of Death to my dreams.

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

Mary Glassner

I stepped off the 747. We were in an airport in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. It was a decommissioned airfield from the Cold War called Osage Field. It was used to service Atlas E Missile Silos before they were decommissioned. Exactly like the missile silo we bought that was only a few minutes drive from here. Our bolthole. We used George to purchase all of this, under the cover of his frequent business trips.

A burly man with an MP5 awaited us, along with several women. More burly men guarded the perimeter. The man was Duncan Barber, one of the SWAT officers that attacked us back in June. He wasn’t to blame for the attack; none of the SWAT officers were to blame. They were under the Nuns’ control. Three of them had died, but the other nine had lived. Mark gave them the choice to go to prison or he could fake their deaths and put them to work. They chose freedom and work. So Mark and I fixed their broken relationships – it was our fault that they were broken – and relocated them and their families out here.

“Ma’am,” Duncan said. His aura was black, fringed with red. Everyone at this airfield and the missile silo were bound to Mark by the Zimmah ritual. This place was just too important to let anyone know about it, unless they were bound to us.

“Is it as bad as it seems, ma’am?” Kathanne asked. She was Duncan’s wife.

“Yes,” I sighed.

“What are you going to do, ma’am?” Duncan asked as he escorted me to the waiting SUV.

“I don’t know,” I wearily said. Sam and I dug into her translation of the Book, looking for some way to neutralize Brandon’s powers, or break the control he was exerting on people.

“Shame we don’t have a Nun,” Duncan said. “Isn’t Warlocks what they specialize in defeating?”

I stopped, looking at him. That was it, we needed a Nun.

“Sam, you said there was a spell that would allow a Warlock to steal a Nun’s powers?” I asked, hope blossoming in my chest.

“Yes, ma’am. The, um, Ganubath ritual,” Sam answered. “You need to find a Nun and capture her.” A smile appeared on Sam’s face, but it quickly vanished. “Where are you going to find one, though?”

I grinned at her. I knew only one place in the world that you could find a Nun. “Fuel the plane!” I snapped. “We need to leave as soon as we cast the Naba ritual.” I glanced at Sam and she swallowed.

“I’ll get started right away, ma’am,” she answered, her face pale.

I would be scared, too. It was dangerous to summon the dead.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 37.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 34: The Whore of Babylon

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 34: The Whore of Babylon

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013, 2014


Story Codes: Male/Teen female, Male/Female, Hermaphrodite/Female, Mind Control, Magic, Anal, Ass to Mouth, Rimming, Oral, Pregnant, Toy, Female Masturbation, First, Sadism, Violence, 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.



Click here for Chapter 33.



Monday, July 22nd, 3:27 AM – Babylon Residence, Seattle, WA
“Push, Karen!” Chantelle shouted as she gripped my hands.

I was confused, in pain. I had been in labor for nearly a day and I was so tired. The last few weeks had been a blur as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I didn’t know where I was or, more importantly, where Master and Mistress were. I was being cared for by Lana and Chantelle, the missing sex slaves, in a strange house. Whenever I felt strong enough to ask, the women would deflect my questions, or tell me I just missed Master or Mistress. I was scared, the pregnancy was going too fast and I was too weak to do anything. I had hazy memories of Willow telling me Lilith’s child grew inside me.

“Master!” I shouted desperately. “Mistress, I need you, please!” The contraction came on me in a wave of pain and I pushed, straining with every fiber of my being to deliver my child.

“I can see the head,” Lana said encouragingly. “One more push, Karen, you’re doing so well.”

I took a deep breath, my head swimming. I was so weak. I concentrated, felt the next contraction come upon me, squeezing my insides, and I screamed and pushed. The pain was so much I thought I was going to die. “Master!” I cried out. And then the baby was out and I could hear a loud, healthy cry and I relaxed and everything started to grow black. I was so tired. But the child was delivered, I could rest now. My eyelids were so heavy and I didn’t fight them, I was just too tired, and allowed myself to drift away.

I was drifting, drifting, drifting.

Off into the darkness.

When I awoke, I was surrounded by a gray mist on gray stone.

What was going on? I stood up. The pain, the fatigue, were all gone. I didn’t feel anything. I peered around; in every direction I could just see more oppressive mist. “Hello!” I called, hoping someone would hear me.

Nothing.

I whirled about, straining to see something in the vast fog. But there was nothing. Just gray mist, swirling in strange eddies. I shouted again, wondering if I was dreaming? Maybe I should start walking? But where, there’s nothing here. I turned slowly around, trying to find something to point my way when I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned quickly to my right, straining to see. There was something there. Was it just the mist swirling? I frowned, watching the pattern. No, there was something dark forming in the mist. The something resolved into a vaguely human form. I took a deep breath and started walking forward, towards the figure.

“Chasity?” I asked as the mists parted, exposing the blonde woman. She was naked, her round breasts jiggling as she walked. A sad smile was on her face.

“I’m sorry, Karen,” Chasity said as she hugged me. Her body was warm against mine. I hugged my sister-slut back, fiercely, enjoying the feel of her breasts on mine.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked as she broke the hug.

“You’re dead, Karen.”

I blinked. “What?” That can’t be possible. I just went to sleep. Right?

Chasity grabbed my hand and led me into the mist. “We’re waiting over here.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Master and Mistress,” Chasity answered. “When they die, we will be reunited with them. Until then, all we can do is wait and watch over them.”

There were six other women waiting and each of them hugged me warmly and kissed my lips gently. We were all sisters, here, and I sat down with them to watch and wait. It wasn’t so bad. I had company, very pleasant company I realized, as a woman with dirty-blonde hair and green eyes nuzzled at my breasts. And one day I would be reunited with those I loved again. Smiling, I laid my head in Chasity’s lap as the blonde bodyguard kissed her way down to my pussy.

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

Monday, July 22nd, 5:31 AM – Kurtz Farm, Madison, WI
I stood in a pasture, awaiting sunrise.

Today, Brandon, today, you will finally have the power to destroy Mark Glassner and rescue Desiree. I spent all day Sunday feverishly reading Professor Scrivener’s translation of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. I hadn’t slept in two days but I didn’t even feel tired. I was too excited. The day had finally come. Everything had to work perfectly this morning. I killed Professor Scrivener very early Sunday morning and no-one had found his body, yet. That would change today, the weekend was over, in a few hours students and staff would be filling-up the campus.

I could not fail. I needed to perform the summoning properly. I needed to make my Pact before the authorities tracked me down. Before Mark Glassner tracked me down. The bastard was hunting me. He had sent Doug Allard, my P.I., after me in France. To kill me. Mark knew I was threat, but once I made my Pact, I would be beyond his powers.

I would hunt him.

I had already killed the heifer. My hands and clothes were splattered with its blood. I never had to kill and butcher an animal before. The cow just let me walk up to it and shoot it in the head with a rifle while it stared stupidly at me, chewing on some grass. Then I drew a knife and set about butchering the cow. It was hard work, the animal’s hide was tough, but I managed to hack off a chunk of flesh from its flank, in the end. The other cows had moved off, disturbed by the blood, and were now placidly grazing a half-mile away. The sky was lightening as dawn approached. I lit the charcoal barbecue I had brought, almost burning my hand as the flames leapt up. Probably too much lighter fluid, I realized. Well, better safe than sorry. I picked up the bloody beef and prepared to throw the hunk onto the coals.

To summon Lucifer, according to the Book, the flesh of a heifer must be burnt as an offering and the correct words spoken. I hovered over the grill, waiting for that first golden ray to appear on the horizon. The sky grew lighter and lighter, and then the sun appeared, a sliver of liquid gold appearing behind a small hill.

“The Shining One, Son of the Morning,” I called out, dropping the beef into the flames, “I give this pleasing offering of flesh and ask that you appear before me.” The meat sizzled and popped as the fire consumed it and the delicious aroma of beef filled my nose. “The Shining One, Son of the Morning, appear before your humble servant so that he may beg three favors from you!”

The light of the rising sun began to blind me as more of that golden disk appeared from behind the hill. I flinched, holding up my hand to shield my eyes. Something moved in the light, coming closer. I squinted, shifting my hand around, trying to make out what it was. Was it just my imagination? No, there was something there. Someone. I squinted, trying to make out the figure walking towards me. Was it the farmer? Or, did the summoning actually work?

“Hello?” I asked, hesitantly, fear gripping my heart and a cold sweat breaking out across my body.

“Hello, Brandon Fitzsimmons,” a man asked with a pleasant voice. “It has been a long time since such a fine offering has been made to me.” I could hear the man inhale deeply, a smile curling his lips as he savored the scent. “Hmm, USDA grade beef. Delicious. I so miss the old ways.”

The sun was out of my eyes, suddenly. The man was close enough to me to eclipse the sun. I blinked my eyes, a bright, blue afterimage filling my sight. The figure was a well dressed-man in a black suit, haloed by the sun, almost like he was the sun, a dark sun that shone brightly. He was handsome with dark hair and a friendly smile on his lips. His eyes were scarlet and I felt a chill run through me.

“I wish to deal with you, Lucifer,” I said with more confidence then I felt.

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “Three wishes for your soul. A fair deal, I think.”

“The same deal you gave Mark Glassner,” I stated, angrily.

He nodded, unconcerned with my anger. “A remarkable young man.”

“My first wish is for Mark to die.”

Lucifer sighed. “Alas, I made an agreement with Mark for a long, healthy life. I can’t just go and break my own deals. That is not good business. I think you could understand that, Mr. Fitzsimmons.”

“What, I can’t kill him?” I asked in surprise. “Even on my own?”

“Well, you can try,” Lucifer shrugged. “He’s already survived one assassination attempt. Of course, I never promised him a pleasant or comfortable life. Just a long one.”

I frowned. Well, nothing worth doing was easy. And the thought of prolonging Mark’s suffering, extending it for years and years, was a pleasant one. He deserved a lifetime of agony for his crimes. I was a careful man. I was prepared for this setback. I studied the Book, reading it over and over again, for the last twenty-four hours. If I wished for the ability to control people, there were limitations. Mark could just override my commands with his power or a Nun could hijack my Thralls. The only way to stop that was the Zimmah ritual, but I couldn’t perform that spell without a living mother; she had been dead fifteen years. But, I had an idea to get around that problem.

“Then, my first wish is to be immune to another person’s control.” I would never be under another man’s control again. I would never sit by while a man steals my wife, fucks her in front of me, and sends me on my way like a fucking errand-boy.

Lucifer nodded. “A wise choice.”

“Second, I wish for people to obey me unquestioningly.” I took a deep breath. Hopefully, this would work. “For my third wish, I want anyone under my control to be bound to me by the Zimmah ritual.”

The grin on Lucifer’s face broadened. “How very interesting.” He pursed his lips in consideration. “I applaud your strategy, Mr. Fitzsimmons. It has been a long time since I dealt with a mortal with such foresight. We have an agreement.” There was a flash of scarlet light and a contract appeared in Lucifer’s hand.

I took it from him, and read it very, very carefully. I wasn’t about to get caught by some fine-print trickery. My three wishes were all clearly written just the way I had spoken them. The price was my soul, cheap enough; I was going to hell, anyways, I figured. “Agreed,” I said and Lucifer held out an old-fashioned fountain pen and pricked my thumb. I signed in my blood and Lucifer signed in his.

“Well, I’ll be going. Unless you have any questions, Mr. Fitzsimmons?”

I shook my head and there was a flash of scarlet and he was gone.

I did it! Relief and exultation flooded through me. I was Mark’s equal, now. I licked my lips, realizing just what that meant. People were claiming that Mark was a God. Did that make me a God? Why not, Mark was just some dumb kid who barely knew how to use his powers. He could be ruling with an iron fist instead of playing at democracy. I would school Mark on just how power should be wielded.

The crack of the gun startled me. “Keep your hands up, sicko!” roared a man.

I looked behind me to see a man approaching from a rust-colored pick-up truck, a rifle leveled at me. He must be the farmer, I realized. I smiled; as if this man could harm me. I was a God. I could see someone behind him, standing by the truck, long, blonde hair streaming behind her in the breeze. My smile broadened; I hadn’t had a woman in a month, not since Mark stole my Desiree from me. Time to use my wish.

“Freeze!” I roared and the farmer and the woman froze in place.

I strode forward in anger. The man had shot at me. He could have killed me! I could see the fear in the man’s eyes as his body refused to move. He was an older man, late forties, his face was tan leather, his eyes a piercing blue. I reached the man, stared into his eyes. This was power! I could do anything! No one can stop me! I glanced at the woman, she was young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, the same blue eyes shining with fear. She was frozen, too, wearing a flannel shirt, the tails tied together, exposing a flat, tan stomach. Well-worn jeans hugged her round hips.

I glanced at the man. “Kill yourself,” I ordered and strode forward to the girl. I didn’t flinch at the gunshot and I smiled at the horror in the daughter’s eyes. I stroked her cheek. “He deserved to die,” I told her. “He dared to shoot at your God. You shall be my whore, so kneel down and suck your God’s cock.”

“My Lord,” the girl said in awe as she knelt before me. Her hands shook as she unzipped my pants. She trembled as she drew my cock out, stroking it between her gentle fingers. I moaned as her lips kissed the tip of my dick. I didn’t remember the last time a woman sucked my cock. Desiree never would. That would change. Desiree would be the perfect wife no matter how many times I would have to chastise her. The blonde teen’s mouth opened and I slid my cock in. Her teeth grazed my tip and I winced in pain.

“Stupid cunt!” I shouted and chastised her hard with the back of my hand, snapping her head back. “Watch the teeth, you stupid bitch!”

“I’m so sorry, my Lord,” she whimpered and quickly sucked my cock back into her mouth. This time, her teeth didn’t graze my cock.

I gripped her blonde hair and started fucking my cock into her sucking mouth. She was so wet and warm. I closed my eyes, enjoying the blowjob. My balls were boiling over, it wouldn’t be long before I came. Gripping her head, I shoved her face down my cock until I felt the back of her throat. I held her head tightly, then roughly shoved my cock down her throat until her lips kissed my crotch. She struggled, gagging and choking on my cock as it filled her throat. Her arms flailed as I fucked her mouth. Shit, this was so fucking amazing! This was power! I could feel my balls tighten and I shot my cum down her throat.

She lay coughing on the ground, her face red as she struggled to breathe. “You pleased me,” I told the girl.

“Thank you, God,” she answered, reverently.

“What’s your name?”

“Ashley.”

“Well, Ashley, you get to be my first…” What was that word. “My first concubine.”

A smile crossed her lips. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Get those shorts off,” I commanded, my cock, amazingly, still hard. I couldn’t remember the last time I was ready to go so quickly. Not since I was in college, I guess. Or high school, maybe. “I’m gonna fuck your cunt raw!”

She screamed as I shoved my cock inside her cunt, tearing through her hymen. She was dry, inside, and that just made it feel rough and pleasant on my cock as I fucked her hard; I pounded her virgin, teenage cunt, reveling in the pleasure that engulfed my cock. Fuck, I had to find more virgins to fuck! This is amazing!

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

Monday, July 22nd, 5:24 PM – Eiffel Tower, Paris, France
My new wife, Mary, was wrapped in my arms as we stared out at Paris from atop the Eiffel Tower.

We arrived in Paris last night to start our two-week-long honeymoon in Europe. When we woke up this morning, huge crowds had gathered in front of our hotel. On one side were the Believers and on the other side the protestors. In-between were the Paris police. So I gave an impromptu speech. Most of the Parisian protestors understood English and by the end they were our supporters.

Before we left for Europe, I had made a few calls to get the local police under our control and they had been extremely helpful in keeping the crowds back as we played tourists in Paris. Mary was determined to see every art museum and we spent most of the day wandering the Louvre. Mary was positively girlish as she gushed over the art. To end our day, we had the police close the Eiffel Tower so that we could enjoy it in peace. I could just hear the believers gathered below that had followed us all day.

It was beautiful up here. Paris was laid out before us, the Seine winding through the lit-up city. It was a gorgeous, romantic view with tree-lined boulevards that glowed green and magnificent landmarks shining brightly: the Arc de Triomphe, the glass pyramid of the Louvre, Notre Dame rearing up in all its Gothic majesty, and many other beautiful buildings and churches. But it all paled compared to the beauty of my wife nestled in my arms. I brushed her auburn hair off her pale neck and kissed the nape of her neck below her ear.

“Mmm,” she murmured, wiggling in my arms. “Don’t stop, Mark.”

I nuzzled her neck and nibbled at her ear. I slipped my hand down and rubbed her silky thigh below her short skirt. “Do you like it when I do this, Mare” I asked as I moved my hand up under her skirt and gently teased her smooth pussy.

“I do,” she purred. Her ass swayed and rubbed pleasantly against my hardening cock. She gasped as my finger brushed her clit.

I slowly diddled her clit with my finger while my other hand moved up her side and found her perky breast. I gave it a squeeze through her bodice then pulled the strap of her dress off her shoulder, pushing the bodice down so I could play with her bare breast. Mary moaned in appreciation as my fingers found her hard nipple and gave it a gentle pinch.

“Umm, that feels great, Mark,” Mary moaned. I slid my hand lower, using the heel of my hand to grind against her clit as I gently pushed two fingers up inside her wet pussy. My wife gasped, “Finger fuck me! Umm, make your naughty filly cum!”

“Gladly, Mare,” I whispered then started kissing and sucking at her neck as I slid my two fingers in and out of her sucking cunt. I could feel the passion growing through her body, the way she began to tense as her orgasm neared. I pumped my fingers faster inside her, pinching her hard nipple. “Cum for me, Mare.”

“Yes, yes! Oh, I love you, Mark!” she cried out as her passion overwhelmed her. My fingers were massaged by her orgasming cunt and her plump ass ground back into my hard cock deliciously. “Oh, fuck, that was great!” She turned in my arms and kissed me soundly on the lips. “Umm, how should I return the favor? My mouth.” She grinned, licking her lips. “My wet pussy, maybe? Ohh, maybe my naughty little ass?”

I grinned at her, reaching around to grope her ass. “What do you think?”

“I think my new husband wants to fuck my naughty ass,” she giggled. “But, he needs to get me nice and ready back there.”

Mary turned back around and I knelt down, pushing up her short, flowery skirt, exposing her pale, plump ass. I kissed each cheek, rubbing their pillowy softness against my face, before I spread her open. I fond her tight anus and placed my lips on it, sucking and licking. Mary purred as I pushed my tongue at her sphincter, slowly forcing my tongue past the tight ring and tasting the sour flavor of her ass.

“Umm, I love it when you rim me,” cooed Mary, then she gasped playfully as I slipped two fingers up inside her juicy cunt.

I let those fingers soak in her cunt, getting a good coating of her savory lube, before I pulled out and pushed those two fingers into her tight ass. I slid them deep into her bowels, fucking them in and out as her ass gripped them tightly. Mary looked over her shoulder at me, a happy smile on her face. She was ready.

I stood up, slipped my cock into her tight pussy, fucking in and out of her just a few times. I almost wanted to stay in her pussy, she felt so amazing, but I wanted her tight ass right now. I pulled out, and Mary sighed in disappointment. I adjusted my cock, lined up at her sphincter, and pushed slowly into her ass. Mary’s disappointment faded as I filled her asshole; she loved it up the ass, too. I moaned as my cock disappeared inside the tight tunnel.

“Oh, fuck that’s nice!” Mary cooed as my cock slid all the way into her ass. “Fuck me! Fuck my ass! Give your filly a good ride!”

I pulled back and thrust back into her, enjoying her tight embrace as I fucked her slowly. Mary pushed her hips back as I pounded her ass. I reached my hands around her and gripped her breasts, squeezing the firm, perky flesh and feeling her hard nipples between my fingers. Mary gasped every time I thrust into her, then turned her head and we kissed over her shoulder.

“Harder!” moaned Mary. “Give it to me hard, my randy stallion! I’m so close to cumming again!”

I pounded my wife’s ass as hard as I dared; I didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t Xiu who got off on the pain. My strokes were becoming more frantic as my own cum approached. I was getting so close, just a few more strokes and I would be there. Plunging into her tight ass, my cock’s sensitive head would rub against her hot bowels, sending pleasure shooting through my cock. Then I pulled out, delighting in the velvety feel of her asshole. Every stroke brought me closer and closer to cumming.

“Fuck!” I moaned. “Here it comes, Mare! Fuck!”

“Ohh, I can feel your hot cum filling me up!” moaned Mary as my release flooded her ass. Then I felt her ass clamp down on me and Mary’s body trembling in my arms. “Ohh, I love it when you cum in me, Mark! Oh, I love it so much.”

I held my wife as we relaxed in an orgasmic high, gently kissing her neck and cheek, and admiring the city of Paris laid out before us. “I love you so much,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Mary sighed. “But, I think I owe you a cum. I’m one up on you.”

I laughed as I pulled out of her ass. My wife knelt before me and started licking at my dirty cock. She usually had one of the sluts clean up my cock after its been in her ass, but sometimes she liked to do it herself. I closed my eyes and leaned against the railing with my arms and enjoyed my wife’s excellent blowjob.

“Excuse me, sir,” 51 said. “I know you didn’t want any interruptions unless it was important.”

I sighed as Mary released my cock. “What is it, 51?” I asked her as Mary stood up.

51, the temporary head of the bodyguards, walked forward. She was a beautiful Black woman, her ebony breasts almost spilling out of her half-unbuttoned cop blouse. She held my phone in her hand and I took it from her.

“Hello?” I asked.

“M-master!” wailed Alison. “I-it’s Karen.”

“She’s back?” I asked, a sick feeling in my stomach. Lilith promised to return her unharmed, but then why was Alison crying?

“A hearse arrived today.” Alison paused, struggling to speak. “Karen’s dead.”

I dropped the phone and leaned against the railing. “What is it, Mark?” Mary asked, in concern.

“Karen is dead.”

As Mary sobbed into my chest, anger burned in my heart. Lilith tricked me, found some loophole in our agreement. Demons always found some way to fuck you. I racked my thoughts, struggling to remember what she said, exactly. I thought I made her promise not to hurt Karen, to return her unharmed. The memory of floating in the darkness, flooded my mind. I will do nothing to harm Karen, that’s what she promised.

I realized my mistake. Lilith didn’t promise to see that Karen was returned unharmed, she just promised not to be the one to harm her. I had been too afraid of dying, too afraid of Mary dying with me, to think it through. Goddamn fucking demons! I glanced at 51 who had picked up my phone and was standing at attention.

“We’re going home,” I ordered, anger heating my voice. “Contact every law enforcement agency under my control. I want them to find wherever Karen was being held, find the thing she birthed, and kill it! Lilith will regret tricking me. I will crush the bitch beneath my heel!”

“For Karen,” Mary whispered, sadly, her arms tightening around my body. “Turn over every stone,” my wife ordered, her voice thick with grief and anger. “Do whatever it takes!”

We buried Karen in the Woodbine Cemetery three days later, on the twenty-fifth, next to Chasity and the six bodyguards that died in June. The Cunningham twins performed the funeral, dressed somberly in modest, black dresses. Tiffany, Mary’s mother, wept the loudest as we buried Karen. They were friends, I remembered. Karen was the Nun that rescued Tiffany from the Warlock that made her a slave.

Guilt and anger warred inside me as I stared at Tiffany. She was responsible for Chasity’s death, just as I was responsible for Karen’s death. I didn’t mean for Karen to die, but that didn’t change what happened. Tiffany didn’t mean for Chasity to die. She was tricked by the angels into attacking us. Tricked just like me.

I hugged Tiffany and my mother-in-law stiffened in my arms for a moment, confused at the sudden gesture. I let go of the anger I had been holding onto, the misplaced rage. Tiffany was tricked by the angels, just like I was tricked by the demons. There were more important things to hate than Tiffany. “I forgive you,” I whispered into her ear. Tears ran down my mother-in-law’s face as I turned and walked back to the limo.

Mary caught up, slipping her arm about my waist. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze, pulling my wife tightly against my side. Leah was awaiting us at the limo, holding the door open as we climbed in. To my surprise, 51 slid in after us, holding a manila folder. “Sir, we’ve had our first lead on your missing slaves, Chantelle and Lana.”

She handed us the folder. Inside were color photos of a lobby. They were security cam footage and you could make out black-haired Chantelle and blonde Lana easily enough. Then I blinked. Both looked incredibly pregnant. That was impossible. Mary was frowning, biting her lip.

“That looks like them,” Mary muttered. “The blonde has the same blue streaks dyed in her hair like Lana had. But these women look nine months pregnant. That can’t be right. It’s only been a month and a half since we last saw them.”

“Where is this from?” I asked.

“A funeral home in Seattle,” 51 answered.

I frowned. “You don’t mean…”

51 nodded. “These two women delivered Karen’s body to the funeral home and ordered them to drive the body to the house.” 51 hesitated, then added, “The staff at the funeral home, well, I think they were bewitched.”

So, it wasn’t the Nuns that got to Chantelle and Lana, it was Lilith. A dream I had awhile ago flooded back into my mind. In the dream, I was holding two dolls in my hand, one blonde and one with raven-black hair. Then Lilith appeared and ripped the dolls out my grip. The pain was so intense, so real, I woke up. Crap. I never gave that dream much thought. Just a nightmare brought on by the unease I felt around Lilith. I stared at photos of Chantelle and Lana and vowed to save them from Lilith’s clutches.

“Find them and we’ll find Lilith,” I ordered 51.

“They are not to be harmed, either,” Mary interjected. “Lana and Chantelle are ours.”

“Yes, mam!” 51 saluted. “Chief Spencer of Seattle PD is on it.”

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

Thursday, July 25th, 7:13 PM – Babylon Residence, Seattle, WA
I watched the Seyb ritual from the Shadow.

The very pregnant Lana led the ritual, her hand sliding the dildo in and out of her cunt. My child was growing in her womb. I smiled, another child grew in Lana’s wife, Chantelle’s womb, and both women were almost ready to give birth to the first of my new daughters. Tomorrow they would be born, I thought, just in time for me to welcome them in the flesh. My Vessel sat in the middle of the coven’s circle. She looked thirteen, long silver hair fell across her flat back and across her chest. Her breasts were just starting to bud and her hips were just starting to fill out. Holding my Vessel’s hands, naked as well, was the fiery red-head Mona.

The coven sat in a circle around them, chanting meaningless prayers to me. Power was all about the trappings. Lana pumped the dildo in and out of her cunt, her head thrown back. When she orgasms and utters Seyb a year of Mona’s life will flow into my Vessel and age her. Thirteen willing women had already given a year of their lives to my Vessel and once Mona gave hers, it would be time for me to inhabit my Vessel and escape the Abyss.

I was still savoring the grief and anger of Mark Glassner as he buried that slut, Karen. I watched from the Shadows. I promised not to harm the little thing. And I did nothing to her. It was my Vessel that killed her, that sucked all the life-force from her just to be born. I just had to watch and wait and do nothing. And shortly, I would be free of the Abyss and I would increase Mark Glassner’s suffering tenfold, a hundredfold. He would curse the day he ever made his Pact.

“Yes, yes!” Lana moaned as she fucked the dildo in and out of her cunt.

Her arms wrapped around her pregnant belly. Her breasts were large, nipples pierced with gold rings, and heaved with passion. I could smell her arousal into the Shadow. A tangy, tart musk that smelled so sweet to my nostrils. Nothing smelled better than a woman’s lust. The blue, plastic cock was almost a blur as Lana pumped it in and out of her hungry cunt with one hand while the other diddled her clit.

“Oh my Goddess!” Lana screamed as her body went rigid. “Seyb!”

I could see the energy flow out of Mona and into my Vessel. For Mona, nothing seemed to change. Aging one year at thirty-one produced very little difference. My Vessel, on the other hand, aged from thirteen to fourteen. She grew a few inches in height, her breasts budded into little, apple-sized mounds. Her flat hips grew some curves and a sparse down of silvery pubic hair sprouted about her mound.

Mona leaned in and kissed the Vessel on the lips. My Vessel just sat motionless. No will animated the body, yet. The Vessel had finally reached enough maturity to be inhabited and I moved through the Shadows to it. I reached out, straining to touch my Vessel. Chains were holding me back, tearing at my soul with cruel barbs. The chains of my imprisonment, somehow they knew I was trying to escape. The Vessel moved for the first time on its own, reaching out its hands towards me. It was empty, yearning to be filled, and it sensed the one thing that could fill it.

Me.

I struggled, fighting as hard as I could against my bonds. The pain was excruciating as a thousand barbs tore at my soul. I will escape! I will be free! I was so close, my fingers brushing the Vessel’s fingertips. Yes! Hope surged through me and then was dashed as the chains yanked me back. No! No! Just a little more! Just a little more and freedom is yours, Lilith! Ignore the pain and take your freedom! Pain was blossoming in my soul as the chains tore at my very essence, trying to rip me back deeper into the Abyss.

“No!” I roared in defiance towards the Heavens. “No, I will have my freedom! I will not be contained by Your prison any longer!”

My fingers brushed the Vessel’s, then my hand grasped hers and the Vessel heaved, pulling me out of the Abyss and into it. My soul tore as the barbs ripped free and I was pain incarnate as I flowed into my new body, sinking into the warm flesh like water into a sponge, filling every fiber of its body. Then the pain was suddenly gone. I had a heart thudding in my chest, blood roaring through my veins, again. I could feel the hardwood floor beneath me, the muggy air on my skin. I could only see a red darkness and panic sank into me. Did something go wrong?

Then I laughed. Your eyes are closed, Lilith. It had been too long since I had a real body. I opened my eyes, the light stabbing them painfully, and I forced myself not to wince. I was a Goddess, and Goddesses do not flinch. I flexed my fingers, licked my lips, inhaled deeply. I had a body again! And it was wonderful!

I was free!

My worshipers stared at me in awe. I stood up, trying not to stumble. This form was smaller than I was used to. It had not yet reached its full maturity. I slowly turned, gazing at all my followers. They were naked, all women, their eyes wide with lust, their nipples hard and the room reeked of their growing arousal. Spicy, sweet, tangy, tart, musky, sour. All the delicious flavors of womanhood.

Lana and Chantelle knelt, awkward with their large bellies, before me. “My Goddess,” Chantelle breathed. “Your humble servants await your command.”

“Rise, my daughters,” I commanded, my voice high and girlish with youth. “You did well, I am very pleased with you.”

Lana and Chantelle looked up at me, smiling exultantly. I bent and kissed first Lana and then Chantelle on the lips. Both women fell to the floor as their orgasms exploded through their bodies. As the pregnant women writhed in pleasure I scanned the room and found Babylon sitting next to her daughter, Crystal.

“You have the sacrifice?” I asked Babylon, the coven’s leader.

“Yes, my Goddess,” she breathed. “Lance, my ex-husband.” She licked her lips, a tinge of fear in her eyes. “He almost beat me to death, once.”

“Fitting,” I smiled in pleasure. I hated men, especially those that thought they were better than a woman.

I needed to finish growing and now that I was in control of the Vessel, there was a far more satisfying way to age myself another fifteen years, to reach the peak of my physical beauty and maturity. Four of the women dragged in the naked man. He was in his forties, fat and soft. His hands were tied with ropes behind his back and he thrashed like a beached whale in the grips of the four women.

“Fucking cunts!” Lance roared as he thrashed about like a beached whale. “I’ll fucking kill all of you. And fucking rape all your lesbo cunts and smash your faces in! Fuckin’ let me go! And you, Clarissa or Babylon or whatever the fuck you call yourself these days. I’ll fucking kill you last! You fucking dyke! I’ll rape your dyke pussy and I’ll kill ya!”

“Ohh, he is perfect,” I purred, feeling my pussy begin to moisten in anticipation.

He was thrown down onto the floor and the twenty or so women of the coven quickly bound him spread-eagle on the floor. The Coven had swelled its ranks since my manifestation a month ago on the Summer Solstice. More than forty women followed me and more joined our ranks every day. We found them in the missions, the abused women shelters, and walking the streets. Wherever a woman was beaten and oppressed by a man, a new worshiper was found.

I brushed the man with my foot, just the lightest touch and he shivered in pleasure, his cock hardening beneath his fat gut. I would drain the man dry, steal his life-force to age my Vessel. Every time he would cum inside me, I would steal more of his life. I stared at him with a predator’s hunger, licking my lips in anticipation.

“Free me, slut!” he snarled. “Let me go and I’ll spare your fucking hide. I’ll give you a good fuckin’ too.”

“You want to stick your cock inside me?” I cooed. “You want to feel the velvet deliciousness of my cunt?”

“You bet I do, slut!” he grinned with false bravado. But I could smell the stink of fear on him. A man’s fear smelled almost as good as a woman’s arousal. “My cock’ll make you howl. Ya’ll fuckin’ love it!”

I straddled him, lining his cock at my hungry hole. I felt the head of his disgusting cock prodding at my pussy. I slammed my hips down, engulfing him in one, swift thrust. The pain was intense as I broke in my virgin pussy, his cock felt monstrously huge inside me. I grit my teeth and ignored the pain, sliding up his shaft.

“Holy shit!” he groaned and then I felt his disgusting seed spilling in me.

I aged a year, my breasts swelling, a few more inches of height and I grew more womanly curves. I smiled in joy and slammed down his cock. Up and down and he was cumming in me again, and my breasts were growing bigger. They were round and perky with teenage youth, jiggling as I rose up and down on him. My bush was thick and silvery. I slid a hand across my hip and delighted in the curves I felt, then up to my breasts. I fingered my nipples, they were larger, my aerola growing wider as my body matured.

I rode him hard and he moaned and groaned, cumming every few strokes. Soon my breasts had grown to their full majesty, round and heavy and yet still perky, not drooping or sagging. My hips had transformed into the pleasing curves of womanhood. I felt my face, tracing the familiar features. I had aged from the pretty innocence of a youth to the mature beauty of a woman. Twelves times Lance had cum in me, then thirteen. I threw my head back, my orgasm building within me, my hands enjoying the fullness of my breasts. I grew even closer to my pleasure as the fourteenth load spilled into me, my body sucking up his life-force.

I slammed down one last time, grinding my clit into his groin, and moaned my orgasm in a loud voice as he shot his fifteenth load of cum into me. His vibrant life-force poured into me as my pleasure rolled through my body. I threw back my head as the exquisite pleasure exploded through my body. Around me, every woman fell to the floor as my Lust washed through the room and triggered their own orgasms to surge through their bodies.

Feeling exhilarated, I stood up, the man’s vile cum rolling wetly down my thighs. I stretched, enjoying the way my full breasts swayed. I looked down on the disgusting creature and smiled at his transformation. The man looked gaunt and old, his hair turned white and wrinkles creasing his face. He gasped for breath, his face turning purple.

“I hoped you liked it,” I purred maliciously.

“My heart,” Lance wheezed, clutching his chest. “Please, I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Ohh, then let me help you,” I smiled down at him.

Hope flared in his eyes, but that quickly vanished as I crushed his throat beneath my foot.

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

Tuesday, August 6th, 6:49 PM – Deer Creek Apartments, Summit, WA
The doorbell rang as Thamina sat the plate of rice and lamb on the table.

“Can you get it, Fiona?” Thamina asked. She kissed me on the lips briefly before she walked back into the small kitchen. I admired her ass beneath her long skirt. She still dressed like a good Muslim woman, long skirts, blouses with long sleeves and high necklines, and a headscarf wrapped about her black hair.

“Sure, Mina,” I said walking across the living room to the door.

Things had been going really well in the six weeks since we escaped Mark’s clutches. I still wasn’t sure what we were. Friends? Lovers? Maybe we were girlfriends? I didn’t know. We shared an apartment, and a bed. Thamina no longer regretted our lovemaking, but the guilt of being gay still gnawed at her. If anyone asked, she would just say we were friends or roommates.

And that hurt, just a little bit.

I opened the door and fear clutched at my heart. “Lilith!” I blurted out. Behind me a plate shattered and Thamina gasped.

Lilith smiled, her violet eyes glinting with hunger. She was dressed in a red, tight dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her lush figure. Her silver hair was piled up one side of her head, and fell about her right shoulder, loose locks falling between her breasts. She wasn’t flickering about the room like last time I saw her, when she stole Karen away from Good Sam Hospital. That seemed like a lifetime ago, when I was Mark’s slave.

“Fiona,” she purred.

Behind Lilith stood four women. Two were vaguely familiar. A short, slim woman with black hair in a red halter-top and a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her lithe figure. Her arm was entwined by a curvy, blonde woman with blue highlights in her hair and a round, smiling face. The other two women were more outlandish; a very tall woman, over seven feet tall, with a mane of scarlet hair and amber eyes. She wore a tight, black tanktop and a pair of camo pants. Her grin was feral, a lioness staring at her prey and I swallowed as those amber eyes fixed on me. The other woman was as curvy as Lilith. Purple hair that fell about her perfect face; a pair of rose-colored eyes set above a dainty nose and pouty lips. She wore a white, belly shirt that molded to her large tits, and a pair of daisy dukes.

Frowning at the two normal-looking women, I asked, “You both were with Mark at the restaurant that night?” I grimaced as I remember the night Mark made me his whore for the first time. I was a waitress at the Sky City Restaurant and my fellow waitresses and I were forced to serve Mark and Mary and two other women dinner, naked. We had to let them do whatever depraved thing they wanted to us. Just the memory of that night left me wanting to take a shower.

The blonde had a sad look on her face. “We were Mark’s slaves, then,” she said. “I am Lana, and this is my wife, Chantelle. Our Goddess, Lilith, set us free.” A look of ecstasy crossed her lips as she said Lilith’s name.

Lilith swept past me, into the house, looking around. Thamina was trembling at the table as the demoness looked around our apartment. My heart felt like it was in my throat as the freakishly tall woman pushed me aside as she followed Lilith in, a feral growl rumbling from her throat. The woman started stalking around the apartment, peering into doors and sniffing like a dog.

“Don’t mind Cora,” Lilith said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. “My daughter is very protective of me.”

“Wh-what do you want,” I squeaked as the other three women walked in. The violet-haired bombshell sat daintily next to Lilith as Chantelle and Lana knelt at the demoness’s feet.

“Vengeance,” Lilith answered, her eyes shining with hatred. “On Mark Glassner.”

“We want noting to do with him,” Thamina blurted out. “We’ve moved past him.”

I sat down in the chair, licking my lips. I still had nightmares about being Mark’s slave. Terrible dreams where he walks into our apartment and makes us beg to be his again. I still felt filthy at all the things he made me do. Him and his slut, Mary. Everyday there were more stories of him on the news, more people talking about what a great man he was. The great reformer, the great God. Everyday the world slowly became his just a little bit more. Everyday I grew more and more scared that he would come back for us.

“How?” I asked and Thamina gave me a hurt look. I ignored her.

“Worship me,” Lilith smiled. “I am the only hope for women. Long have men oppressed us, used our bodies to satiate their lusts. Men are violent beasts. It is far past the time for women to do away with them entirely. Think how much greater the world would be without men.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, kill all the men?” Her smile deepened. That’s exactly what she meant. “That’s insane. We’d die off as a species.”

Lilith brushed Chantelle and the black-haired woman stood up as graceful as a dancer. She pulled off her halter-top and wiggled out of her tight jeans and stood naked and proud in the center of the room. Her body was slim and toned, and her fingers slid through a thin line of black hair that led to her shaved pussy. She pinched her clit and—it grew.

“Holy fuck!” I gasped as her clit swelled up, lengthening into a long shaft. The tip changed, turning into the head of a mushroom. No, I realized in amazement, the head of a cock. Chantelle’s transformed her clit into a penis, complete with a urethra.

“It is fully functional,” Lana purred, licking her lips. She stood up, wrapping her hand around her wife’s cock and gave it a few pumps. “I can attest to that. I’m pregnant with her child. We just found out yesterday.” The two women shared a loving look and Chantelle rubbed at Lana’s belly.

My mouth widened. “This is fucking insane.”

“I am the only being that can stop Mark,” Lilith boasted. “Worship me and I will protect you from his commands. Or wait until he makes you his slave again.” I shivered at those words. I would never be Mark’s slave again. I would rather die.

I would rather worship Lilith, I realized bitterly.

“He set us free,” Thamina protested. “He promised to leave us alone.”

“And what is the worth of a man’s promise?” demanded Lilith. “He will come for you, again. He will make you his, defile your bodies with his lusts! He will make you love his affections, rob you of your free will again!”

“I’ll do it!” I exclaimed. Anger was burning inside me. Anger at Mark for making me enjoy his rape. Anger at my ex-boyfriend, Hank, for replacing me in the two weeks I was Mark’s slut. And fueling that anger was the fear of being Mark’s whore all over again.

Thamina knelt before me, grasping my arm. Her dark eyes filled with tears. “Please, Fiona,” she begged. “Don’t serve this demon. She is evil.”

I glanced down at her face. “Mark is worse. I’ll never be his slave again.”

“Stay with me, Fiona,” Thamina begged. “I…I love you. We can be happy, together.”

My emotions whirled inside me, a tangled mess. I looked down into her eyes and I saw the love there. Did I love her? What was she to me? We made love. Many times. And it was great. But was that love? I hesitated, unsure what to do. And what if I stayed and Mark came for us? Fear, anger, love, hope. It was too much. I felt like I was about to be torn asunder.

“I don’t care if it’s a sin to be with you,” Thamina pressed on. “Just stay with me. Please. I need you.”

Thamina jumped as Lilith knelt behind her, whispering into her ear, “Fiona can have a cock. She can be your husband. It’s not a sin, then. All you have to do is just worship me.”

“Yes,” I sighed, my eyes looking up at Chantelle’s cock. What would that feel like? What would it feel like to shove my cock into Thamina’s inviting pussy. I stared down at her dusky face framed by her headscarf, her dark eyes pleading with me. Did I love Thamina? Maybe I did. I would miss waking up to her dusky face. “I can be your man, Mina. Then you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of us.”

Thamina flinched at my words. Her dark eyes stared up at me and a look of resignation filled her face. “I…I…” She swallowed. “I want you, Fiona. I will be your wife and worship your Goddess.”

I blinked in shock. “We’ve only been together a month-and-a-half,” I protested. “We can date, you can be my girlfriend. In a few months, I’m sure we’ll have grown close enough to start talking about marriage.”

“No. I am a Muslim. It is wrong what we have been doing.”

I scowled. “And worshiping Lilith is okay with Islam?”

“I would be obeying my…husband,” Thamina whispered. “I know you want me, Fiona.”

Her fingers were stroking my thigh through my jeans, sending a flush of warmth through my groin. I did want her I realized, as her dark eyes stared up at me. I rubbed my thighs together, trying to ignore that growing itch between my legs. Did I love her, though? I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find the words. Her eyes were so beautiful, especially looking up at me from between my thighs.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ll marry you.”

Thamina pulled my face to her and kissed me, then turned to Lilith. “You can marry us, right?”

Lilith laughed derisively. “Me, do something so prosaic? No, Lana or Chantelle can. They are my High Priestesses.”

“Then let’s do it,” Thamina said, squeezing my hand.

“Wait, right now?” I asked.

Thamina gave me a direct look. “That is my price, Fiona.”

Everyone was moving so quickly. Thamina pulled me into the center of the room, holding my hand. Chantelle pulled out a few wilting, pink begonias in a vase and shoved them into Thamina’s hands. When I objected that we needed rings, Chantelle came out of our bedroom with Thamina’s jewelry box and fished out two rings. This was all just happening too fast.

“We are gathered here to unite these women in love,” Lana intoned as Thamina gripped my hands and smiled shyly at me. She was so beautiful, I couldn’t help smiling back at her. “To share their lives and burdens together, brought together by their worship of our Goddess, Lilith. Do you, Thamina, take this woman to be your wife? To love her, and cherish her, and be her partner in all things?”

“I do,” Thamina said confidently as I slid the ring down her finger.

Lana repeated the same vow to me and I was surprised at how calm I sounded when I said, “I do.” The ring was cold as it slid down my finger. Thamina was blushing prettily when Lana declared us married and I found myself pulling my wife to me and kissing her gently on the lips.

Chantelle was crying and clapping when we broke the kiss and Lilith was staring at us expectantly. I knelt, and Thamina knelt next to me. Lana spoke, and Thamina and I recited in unison, “I pledge my soul to Lilith, my Goddess, from now until the end of time.”

“And now to consummate our agreement and bestow my blessing upon you,” Lilith pronounced and her dress melted away into red smoke leaving her lush body exposed. Her clit swelled, growing into a cock and suddenly Lilith’s lust swept into me and I groaned, gripping my new wife’s hand as a delicious orgasm rippled through my body. Thamina gasped next to me, her hand trembling as she came.

“Your blessing?” I asked as I watched Lilith push Thamina onto her back, Thamina’s clothes vanishing in a puff of red smoke. Lilith was about to fuck my wife, I realized.

“To make you hers,” Lana said. “To give you your gift, and plant our Goddess’s child inside you.”

“What?” I asked.

Lana glanced fondly at the hulking Cora. “Lilith is the mother of monsters,” Lana explained. “Her seed will grow inside Thamina’s belly and her child will be special. Sadly, a woman can only bear her one child without suffering ill-effects. Other women are needed to bear our Goddess’s children.”

“Oh, yes,” Thamina moaned as Lilith’s cock penetrated her pussy and my wife orgasmed a second time beneath Lilith’s thrusts.

“Lilith’s child grows quickly,” Chantelle said. She was sitting next to the purple-haired woman. “My Lamia was in me only forty days.” Lamia snuggled up against her mother and Chantelle stroked her purple hair.

“Oh, Fiona, this is amazing!” Thamina gasped. “Oh, wow!” Then she was screaming in Arabic, a musical sound that filled my ears with delight. I watched Lilith’s perfect ass pump above my wife and I couldn’t wait for my turn to be fucked by my Goddess. I reached out and grasped Thamina’s hand and she squeezed me as another orgasm racked her body and then Lilith moaned and slammed her cock into my wife and everyone in the room felt our Goddess’s orgasm roll through the air.

Stars swam before my eyes at the intensity of Lilith’s orgasm and when my vision cleared I saw my silver-haired Goddess above me. Her silver hair brushed my cheek and my clothes dissolved into red smoke and I was naked beneath her. Lilith’s large breasts rubbed against me as she parted my thighs. Her cock brushed my pussy lips and another orgasm exploded through me. And then the shaft was sliding in and out of me.

“Oh my God!” I groaned.

“Goddess,” Lilith hissed, thrusting hard into me.

“Yes, yes!” I moaned as another orgasm rolled through me. Her cock was ecstasy in my cunt, every touch ignited a fire in my nerves. “My Goddess! I am yours!”

“Yes, you are,” she purred, stabbing her cock into me over and over.

I was lost to the pleasure as orgasm after orgasm crashed through my body. I was pleasure. Every nerve in my body was alive and fed by Lilith’s passion. Her skin was hot silk, her breath a sweet spice, her nipples hard diamonds. I shrieked so loud as I felt her seed explode into me, white-hot magma that sent my nerves erupting in pleasure so intense that nothing else mattered.

“Fiona,” a voice whispered, distant. “Fiona.” The voice was growing louder. “Fiona!” Someone was shaking me. My eyes opened and Thamina’s face was above me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You passed out,” Thamina smiled and then kissed me.

I sat up and saw that my Goddess was dressed. “Come to Seattle tomorrow,” she commanded. “Lana will leave the address. I give you this night to consummate your marriage.”

“Thank you, my Goddess,” Thamina whispered.

I felt her hand stroking me. It felt weird, like something was protruding between my legs. “Enjoy,” Lana grinned at me. Thamina’s hand felt so wonderful, whatever she was doing. I sat up on my elbows and saw a cock growing out of my crotch. I was hard and Thamina’s hand was firm silk and every time she brushed the head, new pleasure rolled through my body.

“I have a cock,” I whispered.

“You can make it come and go,” Chantelle explained, “Just concentrate.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Thamina said eagerly. “I need my husband in me.”

“I’m your wife,” I corrected.

“Ooh, no wife could have such a beautiful cock,” Thamina purred, then I gasped as her mouth sucked the head into her lips.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Mina!” I gasped.

Thamina grinned at me and I stood up and she dragged me into our bedroom and sprawled onto the bed. She was naked, her skin a beautiful, dusky color, her black hair spread out like a fan about her. Her bosom heaved with passion, her dark nipples hard. Her neatly trimmed bush was matted with our Goddess’s seed.

I crawled onto the bed, atop my wife, and she pulled me to her, kissing me on the lips. I found her wet pussy with my cock and moaned as I pushed into her velvety depths. “Oh wow,” I gasped. “That’s amazing! I love you, Mina.”

I did, I realized. I did love her.

“I love you, Fiona,” she moaned as her hips rotated beneath me. I felt her hard nipples pressing into my soft breasts, her hands roaming my back, sliding down to cup my ass. “I am your wife!”

My wife. Then a thought occurred to me. “Aren’t I allowed more than one wife?” I asked her. “Doesn’t Islam let a husband marry other women?”

“Yes!” Thamina gasped as I fucked my cock in and out of her cunt. “Up to four.”

“Would you like that?” I asked her. “Other wives for us to fuck. Imagine the fun we could have.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Thamina gasped. I felt her cunt spasming about my cock as she thrashed beneath me. I kissed her, shoving my tongue into her mouth and kept right on fucking her through her orgasm.

I held her tightly and rolled onto my back. “Ride me, wife!” I ordered. “Let me see those beautiful breasts bounce.”

Thamina sat up, her breasts thrust forward and bounced so beautifully as she rose up and down my cock. Her pussy felt amazing wrapped around my cock. I slid a hand up her dusky skin and cupped her left breast and felt her nipple hard beneath my fingers. She smiled at me, tossing her beautiful, dark hair as she threw her head back in pleasure.

“Oh, Mina!” I moaned. “Your pussy feels amazing!” I felt this growing pressure deep inside me. In my ovaries. Something wanted to escape my body. “I think I’m about to cum!”

“Yes, yes, flood me with your cum!” Thamina panted. “Umm, I love your cock!”

That feeling of release grew and grew and then this intense pleasure surged through me and I could feel my cum pumping out of my cock, flooding into my wife’s pussy! “Yes, oh fuck, that’s amazing!”

I pulled my wife down to kiss me. Being married wasn’t all that bad, I realized. Not with such a beautiful woman as my wife. I shrunk my cock. I wanted to enjoy my wife as a woman for awhile. Thamina happily spun about, presenting her well-fucked cunt to my lips. White cum stained her pussy, a mix of my sperm and my Goddess’s. She tasted delicious and I shuddered as her tongue started lapping at my cunt.

Being married definitely wasn’t all that bad.

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

Sunday, September 22nd, 10:33 PM – Q13 Fox New Studio, Seattle, WA
“Tonight we are joined by Mark and Mary Glassner,” Debra Horne-Dannell introduced.

Debra had almost been fired from Q13 for proclaiming me a God during a live broadcast and posting the entirety of the firefight at our house and my subsequent healing on Youtube. The Miracle of South Hill everyone called it. I pulled some strings, and now she was the co-anchor for the local news. Debra had an awed look in her eyes as she stared at Mary and me. “We are honored to have you here tonight, my Lord and Lady.”

“Always nice to see you, Debra,” Mary answered, warmly.

“Thank you for having us,” I smiled.

Debra blushed. I bet she was remembering all the times she sucked my cock. “It’s my pleasure. You are here tonight to promote a gun-buyback program you are sponsoring in Tacoma this Saturday?”

I nodded. “It’s a great opportunity to get some guns off the street. After the attack, I know from experience just how dangerous guns in the wrong hands can be.”

Mary smiled. “Our country is awash in guns. It may have made sense to have an armed population two hundred years ago. But, the Founding Fathers could never have anticipated just how deadly guns would become.”

Debra nodded in agreement. “It has become quite an epidemic in this country,” she interjected.

“Exactly,” I said, turning to face the camera. We were live; Mary and I always insisted on doing interviews live so our commands could actually affect people. They didn’t work if recorded for some reason. “I want everyone out there watching us tonight that isn’t a police officer or in the military, to bring their guns to the Courthouse in Tacoma. Amazon has graciously donated hundred dollar gift cards to anyone that turns in their guns. It starts at Ten AM and will go all day.”

The greatest threat to Mary’s and my safety was someone with a gun. The more guns we got out of the hands of people not under my power, the safer we would be. Even with the amulets Sam invented, they were still a danger to us.

Sam, our former sex slave turned Vizier, had started taking the knowledge of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor and applying them in new ways. She modified a charm that could be placed on amulets to deflect arrows and, after many tries, got them to work on bullets. Everyone in our employ, the sluts, our bodyguards, and our family members, wore these bronze amulets. One hung around my neck and another nestled in Mary’s cleavage. They created a field that could deflect bullets, but they weren’t perfect. A powerful enough gun could still penetrate the field and automatic fire could overwhelm the amulet pretty fast.

“Well, I can’t wait to see the turnout,” Debra smiled, then glanced at Mary. “Rumor has it that you’re pregnant.”

Mary’s smile grew and she reached over and gripped my hand. “I am. Almost eight weeks. We found out a week after the wedding.”

Debra clapped her hands. “I am so happy for you, my Lady.”

I glanced at my wife, squeezed her hand. I was happy too. The first two months of our marrige was going perfectly. Except Brandon Fitzsimmons and Lilith were out there, somewhere. The interview wrapped up, and we walked to the elevators, surrounded by our bodyguards. We were getting strange reports out of the Midwest. It seemed Brandon had used his copy of the Book to gain powers. There were many reports of women disappearing after their boyfriends or husbands committed suicide. Some of the women would show up alive, confused about what happened to them, others were found badly beaten or dead, and a few hadn’t been seen at all. A man, fitting Brandon’s description, was often seen around these incidents.

I kept hoping a Nun would show up and deal with him. They couldn’t leave me alone for a week. Was it too much to hope that one would show up and deal with Brandon? There were still a few out there, according to Tiffany. Though no Nuns were left in North America. It was looking like Mary and I would have to deal with him personally. Sending the authorities after Brandon would just get more people killed. After the gun-buyback in Tacoma, I would have to make the time. He wouldn’t be hard to defeat. His mother was dead so he couldn’t bind anyone with the Zimmah ritual. I would just order his Thralls not to fight and our conflicting orders would freeze them in place. Then it would be child’s play for our bodyguards to take him.

Brandon wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Lilith was. It had been two months since Karen died and there was still no sign of Chantelle and Lana. Their images were on wanted posters, ran on the news, and no one had come forward with any reliable information on them. They were the only lead we had on tracking Lilith’s child down. Lilith was out there, somewhere, plotting against us. I brooded on that thought as we rode the elevator down to the parking garage.

Our guard tonight was made up by A Squad, a mix of the old bodyguards that survived the attack and volunteers. The first two classes had finished their Police training, adding fifteen new members to the guard. These were women who agreed to be our slaves, to serve and protect their Gods. Four other women had also joined the bodyguards, cops that quit their jobs and traveled across the Country to join up. As soon as we had enough, we would free the original bodyguards that we forced to protect us. We would let them choose to stay or be free, just like we had with the sluts. With Lilith and Brandon out there, we needed to keep them just a little longer.

I was getting worried about what our enemies were up to, so I’ve quietly made arrangements in case something goes wrong. I used Mary’s older sister, Shannon, and her fiancee, George. He traveled a lot on business and he had the perfect cover to make some purchases around the country.

Leah waited for us at the limo, looking sexy in her white corset and short, black skirt. The limo was new, having just arrived a week ago. It was armored, the doors heavy with Kevlar plates and six inches of bullet-resistant glass. The limo was a beast, practically a tank. Mary slid in first and then I followed. Jessica, our press secretary-slut, was last, sitting opposite us inside the limo as Mary snuggled up to me and I kissed her on the lips.

Mary slid her hand down and rubbed at my cock through my pants and grinned when she felt how hard I was. “Horny stallion,” she fondly said, then yawned. “Jessica, attend to my husband.”

“Absolutely, Mistress,” Jessica smiled.

Mary laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. She had a little less energy these days, because of the pregnancy, and it was getting late. I stroked her cheek and she smiled softly as Jessica knelt before me. Our slut was wearing a transparent blouse that showed her beautiful, caramel breasts and dark nipples through the sheer fabric. She knelt down before me as the limo started to move, unzipping my pants and sucking my cock into her lips.

“Thank you, Mare,” I whispered. “You’re the best wife.”

“I know,” she murmured, sleepily.

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

Monday, September 23nd, 9:17 AM – Main Gate, JBLM, WA
I moaned as Ashley settled her cunt down on my hard cock in the back of my limo. The blonde teen, the first of my concubines, threw back her head and moaned wantonly, “Oh, Brandon! Your cock feels so amazing!”

“Lucky girl,” pouted the auburn-haired Sherri as she lay entwined with her twin sister, Terri, on the opposite seat. The twin sisters’ freckled breasts were pressed together as Terri pulled her sister’s face back to hers.

I smiled, watching the sisters kiss, Sherri’s ass flexing as she ground her pussy into her twin’s. They were my second and third concubines. I found them in the parking lot of a Motel Six. Terri’s boyfriend had objected when he found me kissing his girl and took a swing at my face. He almost hit me before I froze his muscles with a command. I had Terri execute him for daring to strike at a God. He had blubbered so pathetically as his girlfriend took my gun, put it to his head, and killed him.

I had to keep the twins, they had green eyes, freckled faces, and pouty lips. With their auburn hair, they were almost like Mary. When I fucked them, I could almost pretend that they were Mark’s wife. I couldn’t wait to take her as mine before Mark. To make her love my cock more than his and watch the pain in his face as his wife cums on my cock and begs me for more. Mary would make a fine concubine once we flushed Mark’s child out of her belly.

I smiled, I couldn’t wait to have them in my power.

I would have my wife, Desiree, back, too, adding her to my growing harem. There were another four ladies back at the hotel, and Victoire, of course. She was driving the limo, her hazel eyes glancing enviously at Ashley in the rear view mirror. She was a French model I found at O’Hare Airport. She was on a layover and I made her mine in the airport lounge.

After making my Pact, I was—sidetracked. There were just so many beautiful women, I found, that were begging to be fucked. I kept the most pleasing women as my concubines, and disposed of the rest. Before I realized it, over a month had passed and I had not gotten one step closer to my revenge. But that was about to change.

There was a rap on the window. An MP guarding the Main Gate of Fort Lewis was standing there, peering into the tinted windows. I signaled Victoire to roll the windows down. Ashley kept riding my cock. She knew better than to stop. I hadn’t had to chastise her in weeks and all her bruises had faded.

“What the fuck!” the MP gasped.

“I am your God,” I commanded. “Escort me to the commanding officer of your Post.”

“Yes, sir!” the MP saluted.

I had to give more orders, of course. The sergeant in charge of the gate had to be brought in line, but in a few minutes, I had an MP escort to Lieutenant General Arthur Brooks, commanding officer of I Corps and Joint Base Lewis-McChord. A few years ago, neighboring McChord Air Force Base and Fort Lewis were combined into one installation. Somehow it saved money.

Ashley pumped her hips atop me as we drove through the base, moaning her pleasure. I stared out the window at the all the soldiers we were passing. The start of my army. On Saturday, I will have Mark crawling on his belly before me. Just five more days and the world will know who I am and tremble before my Majesty!

For I am their rightful God. The Great and Powerful Brandon! I closed my eyes, pictured Mark Glassner kneeling in defeat before me, the false God cast down by the True, and came in Ashley’s sweet cunt.

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

Wednesday, September 25th, 10:32 AM – City Hall, Seattle, WA
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor,” Nate Kirkpatrick said, knocking on the heavy, oak door of the Mayor’s office

“Oh, come in, Nate,” the Mayor answered.

I followed Nate in. He was a big, burly man with brown hair that was quickly balding. He was the Manager of Human Resources at City hall. I say was, because my daughter killed him last night and then took on his appearance. I was really proud of my daughter, she was only a few days old and she already was accomplishing so much for Lilith. She was a Mazikeen, a creature that could assume any form she pleased.

“This is your new assistant,” Nate said, motioning to me. “Fiona Cavanagh.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mayor,” I lied.

The Mayor, a fairly fit man for someone in his early sixties, reached out and shook my hand. He was tall, his hair obviously dyed black to hide the gray, and he had a firm handshake. His desk was neat; a computer, a pen cup, and a photo of the Mayor and his husband at their civil wedding were the only items resting on the dark wood.

“You can call me Craig or Mayor Erikson,” he said with a smile, shaking my hand.

“I’m sorry to hear about the passing of your previous assistant,” I said. His name was Shaun, and Thamina’s daughter by Lilith, Tir, had infected him with a very nasty, and very lethal, disease.

Grief clouded the Mayor’s face. “Yeah, he was a special young man.”

“Well, I’ll go get set up at my desk,” I said.

“Oh, of course,” Mayor Erikson said.

Once his door was closed, I whispered to my daughter, “You did good, Ziki.”

A loving look appeared on the face my daughter wore, recognizable to me through the fat man’s face she wore. I reached out and stroked her stubbled cheek fondly. “Well, Mother, I have other hires to make,” Ziki told me.

I nodded, and sat down at the desk. Slowly, Seattle would be Lilith’s, I thought happily. A few minutes later, Lamia walked in. She was Chantelle’s daughter by Lilith, and I dialed the Mayor’s phone. “Your 10:45 is here, sir.”

“I don’t see an appointment on my schedule?” the Mayor objected.

“Maybe Shaun didn’t get a chance to update your schedule, sir.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighed, his voice thick with grief. He cleared his throat. “Okay, send him in.”

“Her, sir. A Miss Lamia. She has something very important to show you.”

Lamia smiled naughtily at me, her purple hair framing her face beautifully. She walked to the door, and I couldn’t help watching her tight ass sway beneath the short skirt of her dress. Lamia could make any one man at a time to be her love-slave, even a gay man like the Mayor. She would just need a few hours to imprint him. I just had to keep visitors away until then.

I heard a low moan and Lamia’s throaty laugh through the door and smiled. I picked up the phone and dialed my wife. “Mina, my first day is going perfectly,” I told her.

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

I watched from the Shadows as Melvyn Howland read Professor Scrivener’s final message when it appeared on the University of Wisconsin’s assignment website. The news of the Professor’s death had already spread through the campus. He had been found shot dead this morning. Melvyn read the note with a sick fascination. It was all about who was responsible for his death and his interesting translation of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor.

Melvyn, or Mel to his friends, wasn’t the first to read the final message. But he was the first to post the Professor’s translation to an occult forum, the UnearthedArcana.com, and linked his post to Reddit. I marveled at the technology of this age. In the past, such a book would take weeks of painstakingly hard work to copy it perfectly. But now, this young man just shared it to the entire world in a matter of seconds.

For weeks, nothing happened. People read it, discussed its contents, dismissed it as fiction or a hoax. It was Simon Arterbury, posting under the name atterboy-simon, who had the theory that Mark Glassner must have made a Pact with Lucifer. “All his powers can be explained by this book,” he typed.

Other users shouted him down, all full believers in their false God, Mark, and not willing to believe that such a perfect being would soil himself by consorting with demons. That comment brought a smile to my lips. These humans were such blind fools, I observed with amused contempt.

Simon, desiring to prove them wrong, went to a grocery store and bought a T-bone steak and waited for dawn on the balcony of his small apartment, his tiny grill burning. He was twenty-seven years old, obsessed with watching high school girls. From his balcony, he had a clear view of the local High School’s field and he loved photographing the cheerleaders as they practiced.

“The Shining One, Son of the Morning,” Simon called out. I could smell his sweet offering and his words pulled me to the Mortal World. “I give this pleasing offering of flesh and ask that you appear before me. The Shining One, Son of the Morning, appear before your humble servant so that he may beg three favors from you!”

I wasn’t able to have the dramatic entrance I preferred. There was just no room on the balcony for that. I had to settle for his startled jump as I materialized next to him. I was dressed in my usual, dapper suit, dark as smoke, and put a friendly smile on my face, to put the insect at ease.

“Holy shit!” Simon exclaimed. “That worked.”

We quickly got down to business. His wishes were so pedestrian. “I want the entire Varsity Cheerleading Squad of Townsend High School to appear before me as my willing sex slaves. I want the stamina to be able to fuck them all without rest. And, I want a billion dollars.”

I left the man to fuck his teenage cheerleaders in his cramped apartment. Much later, Simon dragged himself away from his harem to post on the forum: “I did it haters, fuk you and fuk your god! Lucifer gave me entire cheerleading squad!! *-)” He uploaded a photo of himself surrounded by the smiling, naked cheerleaders holding pompoms. The idiot was arrested two days later for kidnapping and the rape of minors. Well, he had that billion to spend on his defense.

Others summoned me after that.

Scotty Adams wished for the ability to turn himself invisible, that women would enjoy it when he molested them while invisible, and not to suffer the effects of exposure while invisible. I don’t think the man ever plans on being visible again, and soon the Ghost of Paris, Texas became infamous.

Augustin Kudrna wished for every married woman to desire him and let him fuck them, for their husbands to not object as he fucked their wives, and for every woman he fucks to conceive a child, if possible.

Yoshida Emi, a teenage girl in Japan, constantly bullied, wished for the ability to kill anyone if she writes their name down in a notebook. She got this idea from something called ‘Death Note’. That’s all she wanted. I didn’t have a problem getting a bargain like that. I had to make one addendum to her power. Mark and Mary Glassner had to be immune. “I made a pact with them,” I explained to the girl. I needed them, I couldn’t very well let some stupid girl ruin all my plans. A rash of unexplained deaths plagued Yamamura High School.

Marcus Arthursson wished for people to obey his commands, to reshape any woman he wanted to, usually into his ideal woman, and to have a big cock. The city of St. Paul, Minnesota, was flooded with big-breasted women who appeared in their twenties with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. Aging women from around the world traveled to St. Paul to regain their youths at the hands of the ‘Doctor’ Arthursson. Getting fucked by him was a small price to pay for youth restored.

Marissa Beckett, separated from her husband, Steven, wished for his cock to never get hard again, for the whore he was fucking to have the worst case of gonorrhea, and for her final wish, Marissa wanted to get back the body she had at twenty-one and stay that way forever. She was excited to try out her restored youth and get laid.

Lenox MacCrumb of Scotland wished to be superman. Well, I made him use three wishes to get some of Superman’s powers. He went with Invulnerability, Heat Vision, and Flight and then set about fighting crime in Glasgow complete with blue tights and a red cape.

Never had I been so busy.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 35.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter Thirty: Tiffany’s Tale

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 30: Tiffany’s Tale

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Teen male/Female, Male/Female, Female/Female, Mind Control, Male Domination, Female Domination, Sadism, Violence, Cockold, Watersports, 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 Chapter 29.



My hands were shaking as the adrenaline bled off. But the images of the dead and dying would not leave my mind. Oh, God, so many dead, I prayed. Forgive me, Lord.

“Why are you crying, Mother!” my daughter spat at me with such venom in her voice. Her bile was a dagger in my heart. “What do you have to cry about, Mother? Are your loved ones dead and dying?”

I looked sadly at my middle daughter, Mary. She was bound, sitting in the corner of the swat van. Her eyes were puffy from crying and burned a deep green with hatred. Blood mated the front of her clothing, probably Mark’s blood. I did not see any wounds on her. About her was a scarlet red aura, the stained aura of a Warlock. My own daughter sold her soul and I was sent to defeat her.

“Because all that blood is on my hands,” I whispered my answer. “That is why I am crying, Mary.”

Mary gave a shrill, almost hysterical laugh. “You fucking nuns are such hypocrites. Karen was just as sorry after she nearly killing Desiree. Did you ever think what would happen if you attacked us? Christ, Mother, your soldiers had automatic fucking weapons!”

“It was the only way,” I sadly explained. “It was all for the greater good. We had to stop Mark and…”

“And me, Mother,” Mary snarled. “You tried to kill Mark and your own daughter. What a great servant of God you are!”

I flinched as her words whipped my soul bloody. I struggled to gather my thoughts, to marshal some sort of defense against her accusations. To assuage my guilt and wash the blood from my hands. It was all for the greater good, Ramiel told me. For the future of the World. We must not be allowed to fail. Mark Glassner had to be stopped. He is a Warlock, an evil man who sold his soul and corrupted my poor daughter.

The van stopped. We must be at the getaway cars. I cloaked the SWAT van with invisibility to get us clear of the immediate area. Already cops were swarming the street that Mark lived on. But it was too dangerous to drive an invisible vehicle on the streets. We were lucky no one hit us in the short distance we had to drive.

Dennis, the only remaining SWAT officer under my control, opened the rear doors, climbed in and pulled Mary out of the van. She was dragged kicking and screaming and Dennis easily manhandled her. I followed, walking over to the several vehicles we parked here earlier today. Dennis walked over to a silver, Jeep Cherokee and threw her in the back seat. I slid in beside my daughter.

“Mark is evil,” I told Mary, trying to justify my actions to my daughter. And to myself. “He had to be stopped.”

“Did you do something to Alice?” Mary asked coldly. “Is that why she shot my fiancee, Mother?”

“Yes,” I sighed, looking down at my hands.

“Oh, so there’s another innocent person whose blood is on your hands, then, Mother. I’m sure you saw her bleeding to death when you captured me.” Mary paused, her lip curled in contempt. “She was Shannon’s best friend growing up, remember? Alice used to sleep over at the house with Shannon and you would make them cookies to eat. Oh, but that was before you turned into a whore and abandoned us!”

The pain of Mary’s words threatened to crush me as memories of a sweet, black-haired girl playing with Shannon flooded my mind. Tears were brimming at my eyes. Oh, God, what have I done. I looked down at my hands. They were surprisingly clean for hands so stained with blood. Alice. Isabella and Agnes. That blonde Thrall who spent her last breath trying to protect my daughter. From her own mother.

I should have been the one to protect Mary.

“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” Mary asked, bitterly.

“What you do is evil,” I said, feeling my anger replace my guilt. “You control people. Make them your slaves, steal their free will. Destroy lives. All those SWAT officers had relationships. Marriages. Broken and destroyed by what you and Mark made them do when they raided your house.”

“We didn’t kill them,” Mary spat back. “You say we destroy lives? Who was it that took control of those men and led them into a killing field. Really a good act there. Who attacked whom, Mother? You’re just as bad as we are. You killed Chasity.” Mary’s eyes brimmed with tears. “She was a sweet, loving woman and your soldiers gunned her down. You tried to kill your own daughter, Mother.”

“I didn’t know you were the other Warlock,” I protested. “I never thought in a million years my own daughter would…”

“Would be a Warlock,” Mary sneered. “Better than the whore who runs out on her family.” Mary gave a bitter laugh. “Mark is bleeding to death. It won’t be long until I’m out of your life, Mother. Than your mission will be complete.”

My forehead furrowed in confusion. “What? What are you talking about, Mary? I’m not going to kill you.”

“My Pact,” Mary whispered. “Mark wished for a long life. When I made my Pact, I wished to be young and healthy for as long as Mark lives. When he dies, I die.” She sniffed, and a small smile appeared on her lips. “We will be together for eternity.”

“I’ll exorcise you,” I said, fear squeezing my heart. I could not be responsible for my own daughter’s death. That guilt would destroy me. “Then your wish won’t matter. You’ll live past him.”

“No!” Her shout surprised me. “Let me be with him. With Mark dead and my powers broken, only prison will remain for me.”

“How can you love him, Mary?” I asked her. “Where does this devotion come from. He’s a monster. I know what a male Warlock does to his Thralls.”

“Love them?” Mary asked. “Mark never hurts them. We love them. Mark’s a good man, deep inside. The power he has, it’s too intoxicating. No one can resist it fully. You want to know why I love him, Mother? Because he has a caring soul. Because he loved me so much he set me free from his powers. Because if I asked it of him, he would give up his powers.”

I laughed. “No Warlock has ever given up their powers. Not voluntarily.”

“Mark would, for me,” Mary insisted.

“I know Warlocks far too well, Mary.” I shook my head. The poor girl was besotted with him. She was young, only nineteen. She hasn’t learned about the lies a man will tell a woman in bed. I learned that lesson before I met Sean. “They all are selfish beasts.”

Mary snorted. “You swoop in, exorcise a Warlock and then head back to whatever convent you nuns wait at. What do you really know about us? You speak like we’re evil monsters and not just people with too much power.”

“For six months I was a Thrall.” I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes as I began to tell my daughter what happened on March 15th, 2000, and the terrible nightmare that followed.

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

Thirteen Years Ago

“Look what I made at school, mommy!” Mary said, all excited, when I walked in the door from work. She was bouncing on her feet dressed in a cute, plaid jumper holding a clay tablet with her handprint in the center. “I made if for you and Daddy.” Mary was six, her auburn hair in two pig tails and her green eyes shining with happiness.

I smiled and took it from her. “It’s very pretty. Thank you, Mary. Let’s go show Daddy.”

Mary took my hand in hers and pulled me to the living room where Sean sat. I smiled at my husband. He had loosened the top few buttons of his shirt as he graded papers. A High School Teacher’s work was never quite done. Except during the summer.

“Daddy!” Mary excitedly shouted and jumped up on Sean’s lap, scattering his papers as she held up what she made in Kindergarten today.

“That’s so pretty, Mary,” Sean praised. He was a great father and I smiled fondly at him.

“Baba,” Melissa gurgled as she stomped across the floor. She still didn’t say mama right, but I didn’t mind. She was learning to walk and only fell twice before she reached me and I scooped up my youngest daughter and spun her about and kissed her rosy cheeks as she laughed.

“Have you seen Shannon?” I asked Sean. Shannon was ten, and was reaching the age where she was becoming interested in clothes, and boys. She was growing up too fast. It wouldn’t be long before I was buying her a training a bra and she was dating some pimply-faced teen.

“She’s at a Alice’s house,” Sean answered, smiling at me. He had these amazing green eyes and still kept his hair long like when we first started dating in college, tied back in a bright, red ponytail. The very image of the cool, laid-back teacher.

“Can you take Melissa, so I can start dinner?” I asked, kissing Melissa’s cute face before handing her to “daba.”

“Sure, Tiffany,” Sean smiled, taking Melissa from me. Sean’s hand brushed mine and he rubbed it just a little longer than necessary. I smiled, it was the little things that kept a marriage going.

I headed for the kitchen, trailed by Mary. I pulled on my plain, white apron and Mary pulled on her pink frilly apron. “Are you going to help mommy?” I asked her.

Mary nodded, a serious expression on her face. I gave her some simple instructions and we started gathering the ingredients for dinner when I discovered we were out of milk. I sighed and popped my head back into the living room. “Did you forget to swing by the store, Sean?”

He flushed. “Sorry, Tif,” he said. “I’ll go right away.”

I shook my head. I loved my husband, but he was so forgetful. “I’ll walk over to the Coopers and borrow some milk.”

I grabbed a small container and walked outside. The sun was setting, shining brightly on me as a drizzle of rain fell on my face. Weather in March was so unpredictable in Western Washington. It can go from sunny to rain to snow to hail and back to sun all in a twenty minute period of time. And around sunset, you would often get rain and sun at the same time. I grabbed my jacket and walked quickly up Violet Meadows, admiring a beautiful rainbow as I walked up the street to the Coopers.

I could hear music coming from an open garage, loud drums and the metallic screeching of an electric guitar. The Bronson boy and his band were practicing. They weren’t that good, but I liked to encourage Kurt. He was a nice boy, despite that absurd mohawk and lip piercing. He was always around the house, asking if he could do any chores to make some money. So, I let him clean the gutters or mow the lawn for a some money. Sean would grouse, “I can mow the lawn, Tif,” or, “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning the gutters.” Well, if I waited for Sean to get around to mowing the lawn on his own, we would have waist-high grass. And I so hated being a nag.

But today there was something different about the music. A beat that just seemed to flow into me, pulsing through my soul. They sounded good today. No, great. Their practice was starting to pay off. Before I even realized what was happening, I was crossing the street. It was hard to think about anything other than the music as I stood at the entrance to the garage. I had never heard music so amazing before. The music was a primal beat that pounded through me.

There were four members of Kurt’s band. Kurt looked so powerful, so manly, with his mohawk and piercings and ragged, jean jacket. Not his usually, scrawny seventeen-year-old self. He had transformed in my eyes into a virile man. His eyes found mine making me feel weak in the knees. I licked my lips as he stared hungrily at me and I felt my nipples harden and my pussy moisten. Kurt was lead guitar and vocalist. Next to him stood Tor, playing rhythm guitar, with his long brown hair and ears covered in piercings. Pat was the bassist and backup-vocalist, his black hair in conical spikes. Bones played drums, a big man with a shaved head.

And then for reasons I couldn’t understand, I reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down and threw them at Kurt. The music just spoke to me and it felt so right. The air was cool on my drenched pussy and more juices leaked out as Kurt grabbed my panties and inhaled my scent, smiling broadly. The other members of his band were smiling like a bunch of pleased little boys.

“What did I tell you,” Kurt boasted. “Stick with me, boys, and we’ll be famous and have more poon then you can shake a stick at.”

They started up another song and the musical was so primal that my body responded to it. My heart was hammering, my nipples ached so hard in my bra, and my poor little pussy was itching to get laid. If Sean were here, I was pretty sure I’d jump his bones right then and there. I was getting so horny. I was looking at the teenage boys playing before me. Kurt was a hot young man, and his hair spiked up into that mohawk and those piercings on his lips were really turning me on. Thoughts of Kurt on top of me flashed through my mind. He would take me, make me his woman.

“Wow, they are amazing,” Grace Copper gasped in awe. I jumped in shock, realizing she was standing next to me.

Grace was a beautiful woman with long, honey-brown hair. We were close friends. Sometimes I would babysit her three year old, Dawn, a cute little blonde girl. I blinked in surprise as Grace began unbuttoning her pants, pulling them down her slim legs. She was going to give Kurt her panties, I realized. Grace had a neatly trimmed, blonde bush and a nice ass I noticed as she threw her panties.

Then the music stopped as all the boys stared at Grace’s nudity and she suddenly flushed, realizing what she did and reached for her jeans with one hand, trying to cover her sex with the other hand.

“Wait,” Kurt said. “Why don’t you lovely ladies be our groupies.”

That was a such a great idea, I thought and I glanced at Grace and she seemed to agree with me. “Sure, Kurt,” I said with a smile

I walked into the garage and Kurt grabbed me and started kissing me. I struggled in his arms and he broke the kiss. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Sullivan? Groupies are supposed to fuck the band, right.”

“Oh, yeah,” I flushed in embarrassment. You always heard stories about girls who went backstage to be groupies, to let the band have them.

Kurt gives me the wonderful opportunity to be a groupie in his band, Satan’s Silvered Tongue, and I almost blew it. Grace was doing better, sitting on the drummer’s lap. Bones had his hands between her legs and was rubbing her pussy. Kurt was kissing me again and I kissed him back, the piercing on his lips rubbed roughly on my lips, excitingly so. When he broke the kiss there was a dark lust burning in his teenage eyes.

“I’ve been jerking off to you since I was twelve, Mrs. Sullivan,” Kurt groaned. “And now I get to fuck you.” He tore my blouse open, shaking his head. “We need to get you some better clothes. If you want to be a groupie for my band you needed to dress better.”

“Of course, Kurt,” I quickly agreed. Being a groupie for his band was the most important thing in the world to me.

My bra came off next, my round breasts spilling out. Kurt pinched one of my nipples so hard I gasped in pain. “Nice tits, Mrs. Sullivan,” Kurt smiled wickedly. “I can’t wait to pierce these fat nipples.” He yanked my skirt off, fingered my blonde pubic hair. He grabbed some of my downy hair
and ripped a fistful of it out. “My groupies need to be shaved.”

“Ouch,” I gasped, rubbing my groin where he ripped the pubic hair out. “That hurt, Kurt.”

He grabbed my nipple, pinching so hard I fell to my knees. “The pain makes me happy. Suck my cock, whore,” he ordered, his fingernail biting painfully into my nipple.

I unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock as fast as I could, sucking it into my mouth. His cock was small and skinny, even when it was fully hard in my mouth. He let go of my nipple to grab the side of my head and fuck my mouth hard. Sean was never rough like this when we made love, but if this is what made Kurt happy. I was a groupie, here to please the band.

“Oh, fuck!” Kurt moaned. “Your mouth feels as great as I imagined, Mrs. Sullivan! Suck my cock! You fucking slut! Oh, fuck!”

Kurt’s cock was shoving in and out of my mouth rapidly. Even thrust all the way inside my lips, his cock was too short to shove down my throat. I could never take all of Sean’s cock into my mouth. His balls slapped my chin as he fucked me and then he groaned and his salty cum flooded my mouth. He pulled his dick out and I spat his cum out on the garage floor. I was never a fan of cum in my mouth and Sean would always pull out and shoot onto my tits.

Kurt’s slap knocked me to the floor. “Groupies swallow,” he barked at me.

“Sorry, Kurt,” I cried. My face stung from his blow. “I’ll swallow from now on.”

“Good, if you do what I say, I want have to hurt you,” Kurt smiled.

“Okay, Kurt,” I nodded.

“Now, swallow,” he pointed to the gob of white cum congealing on the dirty garage floor.

I bent down, licking the cum up, trying not to gag on the taste of dirt and motor oil mixed in with his cum. “Lick it up, Mrs. Sullivan,” Kurt moaned. “Like a good little bitch.”

“You came so fast,” Pat laughed. “Kurt finally got a girl to suck him off and he busts his nut in a minute.”

Pat fell to the ground as Kurt punched him in the face. Blood streamed from Pat’s broken nose as Kurt drew back his foot and kicked him in the gut. Pat screamed in pain as Kurt kicked him over and over again with his steel-toed boots. “This is my fucking band, Pat!” Kurt screamed. “Don’t fucking make fun of me! No one will ever get to fucking laugh at me again.” He glared at the other two band members.

Tor was jerking off to Grace sucking sucking on Bones’s cock. “Yeah, sure,” Tor moaned as he pumped his cock.

“Yeah,” Bones groaned. “Whatever you say, Kurt. Just keep me in pussy!”

Kurt laughed and he kicked Pat once more in the stomach.

Kurt’s cock was hard as he yanked me to my feet and bent me over his dad’s Geo Prism and thrust his cock into my cunt. Kurt fucked me hard and fast. “You love my cock, don’t you, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s the best!”

Kurt’s cock was the smallest I had ever had inside me. Not that I had a lot before my husband, Sean, but Kurt’s cock was definitely the best. “I love your cock, Kurt!” I moaned back, rolling my hips and hoping my pussy was making Kurt’s cock feel wonderful.

“Fuck!” Tor groaned and I glanced over to see white cum fly from his cock so splatter in Grace’s blonde hair.

“Watch were you’re shooting that shit!” Bones growled, pulling his hand back to avoid getting hit.

“Tiffany?” a strangled voice gasped.

I turned and there was my husband Sean staring in horror at me getting fucked. I didn’t understand why he looked so horrified. I was a groupie and groupies got fucked. “Hi, Sean,” I panted. “I guess I…ohh…got sidetracked getting the milk,” I laughed.

“I…I don’t understand,” Sean stammered. Why was there so much hurt in his eyes. Did he not understand that it was okay for Kurt to fuck me.

“I’m Kurt’s groupie,” I explained.

“And you love my cock,” Kurt said with a vicious smile.

“I do, I love Kurt’s cock,” I moaned. “It’s the best cock I’ve ever had.”

Sean worked his mouth. “I…What…Is he making you say that?”

“No, Sean,” I gasped. My orgasm was building inside me. Knowing my husband was watching made this oddly thrilling. “He asked me to be his groupie and I jumped at the opportunity.”

“Fuck, your wife has a nice cunt, Mr. Sullivan,” Kurt groaned. “Now, run along. Your wife doesn’t love you anymore, right Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Yes!” I panted, as my love evaporated away. How could I love anyone when I was Kurt’s groupie, his woman. “Go away, Sean. I’m with Kurt, now. I don’t love you anymore.”

Sean stumbled off, looking like a destroyed man. I felt bad for the man. I loved him once and I never wanted to hurt him. He just needed to accept the way things were now. Kurt was fucking me harder and harder, my orgasm nearing. I groaned loudly, wanting everyone to know just how great Kurt’s dick made me feel. His cock just felt so amazing as he plunged over and over into me.

“I’m cumming, Kurt,” I moaned as my pussy rippled on the small dick inside me. “Oh, fuck, your cock feels so great.”

“Your cunt feels nice, Mrs. Sullivan,” Kurt moaned and then he was shooting inside me. I was so happy. My pussy made Kurt feel good.

Kurt pulled out and shouted, “Tor stop pounding your pud and come fuck a real pussy.”

Tor almost fell on his face, tripping as he ran over, holding his pants up one-handed, his cock bouncing about as he ran. He wasted no time sticking his dick inside me. He may have just cum on Grace, but he was ready to have a taste of my delicious pussy. I was so wet from my cum and Kurt’s sperm, Tor slid right in. He had a big dick and I moaned in appreciation as it filled me up.

“Does his dick feel better than mine?” Kurt asked as Tor pounded my cunt.

“No, Kurt!” I gasped. “Your dick’s the best.”

He smiled. It was the smile I learned to love, because it meant he was happy with me and wasn’t going to hurt me. After Tor finished in me, Bones just had to have a taste of me. His cock was smaller than Tor’s, and bigger than Kurt’s, but did not feel nearly as good. Bone was fucking me good and hard, my orgasm building nicely, when I heard a scream and turned to see what was happening.

Grace was on the floor getting fucked by Kurt. He was pinching her nipples on her large breasts and Grace was crying out in pain. That just seemed to encourage Kurt and he fucked her harder and harder, pulling on her poor nipple until her entire tit was stretched out and it looked like Kurt would rip it off. And then he would let it go, the breast snapping back like a rubber band and Kurt laughed.

“Oh please, that hurts!” moaned Grace, her face red from crying.

Kurt bit her nipple and she screamed. “Fucking slut!” Kurt moaned. “I love your screams! Do you feel how hard you’ve made me?”

“Yeah, Kurt!” Grace moaned. “You’re so hard inside me.”

Kurt started chewing at her breast, leaving bite marks and he fucked her harder and harder as she moaned in pain. “Please stop, Kurt!” she begged. “Oh, god, please! It hurts so bad.”

Bones kept right on fucking me, not caring about the cruelty Kurt was inflicting on Grace. I felt bad for her, but these were the abuses a groupie had to suffer. I had been close to cumming, but hearing Grace’s screams brought me out of it. Bones pumped a few more times into me and then he came hard inside my pussy.

When Kurt finished with Grace, she was curled up on the floor. Her breasts were bruised and raw and she whimpered in pain. Kurt had a pleased look on his face. Beyond Grace, Pat gave a quite moan as he lay battered on the floor.

“Who wants to see some lesbo action?” Kurt asked.

“Hell yeah,” Tor smiled.

“Mrs. Sullivan, why don’t you sixty-nine with her,” Kurt leered, stroking his tiny cock.

I knelt down next to Grace and gently kissed her crying face. “Shh, Grace,” I whispered. “Kurt wants us to go down on each other, okay?”

Grace sniffed. “Okay, Tiffany.”

I kissed her lips. They were soft and gentle, not like a man’s. I had never kissed a woman before and found it was nice. And being watched by Kurt and the band just increased how nice it was. I stroked her sides, avoiding her tender breasts as we kissed and Grace started to relax. I laid on my back and pulled Grace atop me. Her mauled breasts rested on mine as we kissed.

“Eat some pussy!” Bones called out.

Grace smiled, her tears had stopped, and she flipped around. Her pussy was sticky with Bones and Kurt’s cum, matting her brown fur. I licked through the sticky mess, gathering the salty cum and her sweet juices onto my lips. Grace’s tongue started gently lapping through my sore cunt. I had never been fucked so many times and my pussy wasn’t used to it.

As our tongues licked each other, our pleasure started to build and we started eating each other out more aggressively. My tongue was digging into her hole, delighting in the taste of her sex and I shuddered as her tongue found my sensitive clit. I returned the favor, nursing at her clit and feeling Grace writhe in pleasure atop me.

Suddenly, an acrid liquid splashed in my face. Kurt was pissing on Grace’s pussy, spraying us with his urine. It splashed on my face and ran down into my mouth. It stung my eyes and tasted salty on my lips. “Drink it,” Kurt ordered and I opened my mouth and let his urine fill my lips, swallowing the disgusting liquid, and then licking it off Grace’s pussy.

“Fuck that’s nasty,” Bones moaned and I could feel urine running off Grace’s face, down my pussy to pool around my ass.

Grace and I kept eating each other’s piss drenched pussies. Kurt didn’t tell us to stop. We licked the urine off each other’s pussies, then went back to sucking clits. I felt my orgasm build, a sweet thing growing in my womb. Grace’s tongue felt like silk as it rasped around my pussy. She shuddered atop me, her moans vibrating my clit as she came. I held my lips tight to her pussy, sucking all her juices out as her tongue swirled around my clit. My entire body went rigid then I shuddered beneath Grace as I came one her agile tongue.

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

I was horrified, listening to my mom talk about the abuses she suffered at the hands of Kurt. “And he kept you and Grace?”

“Just me,” Mother bitterly said. “I was his favorite. The woman he dreamed of.” Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes. “He told Grace to go and be a whore. To make a living selling her body.”

“And that was Grace Cooper?” I asked, suddenly feeling sick. “She had a daughter named Dawn?”

Mother nodded. You’re just like your cunt of a mother! She was a whore, too! And you grew up to be just like her! The words Dawn’s father yelled as he spanked her last week when we made Dawn my little sister’s sex slave. I thought we were punishing a bully. But she was as much a victim of Kurt as her mother was. As I was. Dawn and I were both robbed of our mothers by that asshole. I suddenly felt sick. All the guilt I had been forcing down the last few weeks was threatening to overwhelm me.

Mark and I weren’t this evil, right? We never abused a woman.

Except Karen, my guilt whispered. And that girl Mark raped. But we were punishing Karen, I protested to my guilt. She attacked us. Almost got Desiree killed. She deserved her punishment. And we treat her well, now. She’s one of ours sluts. We love her. We’d defend her just as much as we’d defend the others.

“Pat died on the floor of the Garage. When the police came, Kurt just explained it as an accident and the police bought it. Pat would not be the last man Kurt killed. He was a sadist. A black-hearted monster.” Mother swallowed. “That night he got needles and pierced my nipples. It hurt so much. But not nearly as much as the piercings in my labia and the one in my clitoral hood. When he would feel vicious, he would pull on my piercings until I screamed. And the worst part was, I was happy that Kurt was hurting me.

“They replaced Pat on bass with Skinny Mat and started playing clubs. Thanks to Kurt’s wish, anyone who heard his band play would think they were amazing. Any woman would get all hot and horny for him and throw their panties on stage. Kurt would start to bring women up on stage and fuck them before the cheering crowd. If their boyfriends objected too much, Kurt would beat them. Some died, some got off with a few broken bones, and others were left brain damaged.

“And it wasn’t just men he beat. Some of the girls he chose would be beaten bloody or choked or cut.” A ragged sobbed escaped my mom’s lips. “I saw such terrible things. And then, she appeared. My rescuer.”

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

Thirteen Years Ago

My breasts were sore from Kurt’s affections as I lay on my side. Today he chewed on my breasts. He just loved them so much. But now they were painfully sore and covered in bite marks. His cum was inside my pussy and I was enjoying the after glow of a nice orgasm. Kurt’s dick never failed to leave me satisfied, even with all the pain I suffered.

A few girls crouched on the floor and Kurt was deciding which ones to show his affections to next. One of the girls, who had curly, light-brown hair, gave Kurt a mocking smile, almost a sneer as she glared at him with gray eyes filled with loathing.

“Fucking whore!” snarled Kurt.

Nothing would make Kurt angrier than being mocked. His hand snaked out and he grabbed the girl by the hair. She clamped her mouth shut to avoid screaming as Kurt heaved her across the room into his table. It was a heavy, wooden table, more of a workbench really, where Kurt kept his tools for the girls that made him really angry: pliers, knives, hammers, needles, whips.

The woman slammed into the table, hard, the corner catching her in the stomach. She flopped across the table and snatched up a skinning knife, holding it up threateningly at Kurt. The woman’s mocking smile only grew larger as Kurt boldly walked over to her. She looked like a Valkyrie, standing defiant against Kurt.

It was a futile gesture. No one could resist Kurt. All fighting would earn you was pain. I wanted to close my eyes, I hated watching Kurt punish a woman. But Kurt liked it when I watched his chastisements. When he would finish, he would be hard and I would have to satisfy him. I felt so bad for this woman. Kurt was going to kill her, and it wouldn’t be quick. My stomach roiled and I wanted to sick up.

“You can’t stab me with that dagger,” Kurt lazily ordered. He stood right next to the woman, the knife inches away and held out his hand. “Give me that dagger so I can cut your mocking lips off, cunt.”

Kurt screamed as the woman stabbed his arm with the dagger, instead. He staggered back, fear blossoming in his face as the blood ran red down his arm, his feet tripping on themselves and he fell on his ass. And the woman walked towards him, bloody dagger in hand. I smelled urine and realized Kurt had pissed himself, a dark stain spreading on his jeans.

The woman grabbed a pair of his handcuffs off Kurt’s worktable. Kurt had quite a collection at this point, “Please don’t hurt me?” Kurt blubbered like a baby as the woman advanced on him. “Who are you? Why doesn’t my power’s work on you? Please, I can give you whatever you want. Please!”

“Handcuff yourself around the table leg,” she growled, tossing him the handcuffs.

Kurt was eager to obey, snapping the handcuff about his right wrist, wrapping the chain around the table leg and then cuffing his left hand, trapping him to the table. “Please! I can give you wealth! Please!”

The woman ignored his please and bent down, pulling off his urine soaked pants and saw his little cock. “Such a tiny prick for such a large monster,” the woman mocked, stroking the cock. The cock swelled unbidden in her hand. “No wonder you had to sell your soul. How could you ever get a woman, let alone satisfy one, with that little thing.”

Kurt was sobbing. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t hurt me!”

The woman’s lip curled in disgust. “I am Sister Louise Afra of the Order of Mary Magdalene. I have been sent by God to stop your perversions, Warlock!”

Sister Louise straddled Kurt, guiding his cock to her pussy, sliding down his short length. “If you wanted to fuck me, you just had to ask,” Kurt’s voice cracked with mock bravado, a forced grin on his face.

“When you cum in me, and you will cum, I will exorcise your powers.” There was a broad smile on Sister Louise’s face and horror appearing in Kurt’s. “Yes, you realize it now. All the people under your control will regain themselves. Everyone will remember all the lives you destroyed, all the pain you inflicted. I do not think the authorities will be so forgiving anymore or all those accidental deaths.”

“No, please no!” he begged as Sister Louise rose up and down on his cock. “I won’t cum. You can’t make me!”

“It’s biology, monster,” Sister Louise purred wickedly. “You won’t be able to hold on forever. You’re seventeen, I bet it won’t be able to last long at all.”

Kurt struggled beneath her, fighting to get free of his handcuffs and Sister Louise rose up and down on him, laughing and mocking him. “Your dick is so small, I can barely feel it in my pussy.” Faster and faster she rode him, dangling her breasts in his face. Kurt started looking around, looking for anything to help him.

“Mrs. Sullivan!” he shouted, his eyes staring at me. Even after six months and countless abuses, he still called me Mrs. Sullivan. “Save me, attack her!”

My Kurt was in trouble and I leapt to my feet and went at Sister Louise. Her finger moved down, sliding up inside her cunt alongside to his cock and came out stick with her juices and then she thrust her finger at my forehead and spoke a single word, and I stumbled back and I just watched. Nothing mattered as I watched Kurt struggle against his bonds.

“Save me, cunt!” Kurt growled and Sister Louise slapped him.

“The only cunt here is you,” she hissed. “A little cunt with a little dick who thought he was a big man!”

Sister Louise leaned back, riding him faster and faster. She started rolling her hips, her breasts bouncing. She started grinding her clit and playing with her nipples, clearly enjoying Kurt’s humiliation. When she came, she let out a low, throaty moan, her breasts heaving beautifully as she rode him. And she never stopped, kept fucking him right through her orgasm.

Kurt was biting his lip, straining not to cum and then his body arched and Sister Louise screamed, “Shalak!” and drew something on his forehead with her sticky finger. Kurt’s forehead blazed with white light and…I was myself.

And everything Kurt did to me, made me enjoy, made me commit poured into my mind and I collapsed on the floor sobbing. A ragged ache filled my heart. I betrayed my sweet Sean. Oh God. I could remember the hurt in his eyes as I allowed Kurt to fuck me. My poor husband thought I betrayed him. I sobbed and sobbed, screaming in guilt. How could I have done that to my husband, the only man I ever really loved. I’d lost him, forever. There was no undoing what I did, what Sean saw. I remembered signing the divorce papers Kurt placed in front of me, signing away my parental rights to my daughters. Writing that disgusting letter Kurt dictated to me.

“Sean,” I wrote, “You and the girls are just burdens to me. I want to have fun, to go out partying. To enjoy wild sex. I haven’t been happy for a long time. But I’m happy with Kurt. I’m happy when his cock fucks me. I’m happy when he cums in my cunt or my ass. I love it when shares me with his friends. Your cock just wasn’t good enough for my horny cunt.” I signed my name and left the letter and the documents on the bed I shared with Sean while he and the girls were at work and school and daycare. I packed up a suitcase with the few slutty clothes I owned from before the girls were born, and never even looked back.

I sobbed and sobbed and then my savior was hugging me. “Shh, it’s alright. He can never hurt you again.”

I clung to her crying my pain into her chest as she gently rocked me.

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

“Sister Louise explained it all to me,” Mom said, finishing her story. I felt tears staining my face.

We were sitting on the floor of a house out in the foothills somewhere near Eatonville. Mom never stopped telling her story the entire ride. She didn’t stop as we walked up to the house and sat on this musty, old couch. I spent all these years hating my mom and now I didn’t know what to think, what to feel.

I remembered the betrayal I felt when Mark released me after only a day under his control. And Mark never mistreated me. Six months she endured that monsters brutal lusts.

Questions and guilt whirled in my head. Do all our girls feel this way? We never mistreated them. We loved them. We weren’t the monster Kurt was. Was it right to keep them? Was I just as much a monster as Kurt? Could we even free them if we wanted to? We bound them with the Zimmah spell. Did we destroy their lives?

What did it matter, Mark was dying and I would follow him into death.

“Why didn’t you come back to us?” I asked, pushing away the guilt. “Dad’s never stopped loving you, mom? Why didn’t you come back to us, Mom?”

She flinched as if she’d been slapped. “H-he never stopped loving me?” Pain flickered on her face. “How could he still love me after…after all Kurt made me do?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” I answered. “Shannon and I tried to convince him to forget about you and find someone else. We tried to set him up with teachers, friend’s single mothers. But he turned them all down. He even still wears his wedding ring.”

Tears brimmed in Mother’s eyes. “Kurt, he…he threw my wedding band away. ‘Marriage is just trash,’ he told me. ‘My mom bailed on my dad and me. We were just garbage to her.’ And…” A ragged sob shook her body. “I thanked him for freeing me from my marriage.”

God, I wanted to hug her. If my hands weren’t zip tied behind my back I think I would have. “You can still go to dad,” I urged her. “Free me and we’ll go see dad, and, and I can be with Mark when he…when he passes.”

A look of incredible longing crossed my mom’s face. “I…I made vows.” Her voice quivered. “I received Sister Frances Bernadette’s Gift.” She hugged herself. “Oh, God, please help me. I don’t know what to do. I miss Sean so much.”

“Let’s go, Mother,” I told her, gazing into her blue eyes. “Dad’s waiting for you. I don’t think he ever stopped waiting for you. And…and, I want my mom back. I can explain to Dad what happened to you. He knows about…things. About what Mark and I can do. He’ll understand.”

I could see her wavering, the look of longing on her face, and of hope.

Then her phone rang.

“Theodora,” she answered. Her face hardened. My heart sank, I’ve lost her. My hopes of seeing Mark one last time faded. “Come inside,” she said on the phone.

“Please, mommy,” I begged as she picked up a roll of duct tape, ripping off length of silvery tape. “Please, let’s go see Dad. Please, mommy!” She walked forward and shoved the tape on my lips. The tape was stiff and sticky and I could faintly taste glue on my lips.

The SWAT officer walked in and Theodora pulled out his sidearm, checked to see if it was loaded, and then looked at me with steely resolve. “Let’s put your claims to the test, Mary.”

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

“You can still see her, Mark,” a woman’s voice floated out of the darkness. “You are not dead, yet.”

“Who’s there?” I shouted into the darkness. Then I realized I was no longer falling, feminine hands were grasping my shoulders, long fingernails biting into my collar bone. I spun around and gasped. “Lilith?”

She floated in the darkness, as stunningly beautiful as always. Her silvery hair fanned out, waving lazily about, her violet eyes sparkling with contempt. She was clad in her scarlet dress, so sheer I could see all of her generous charms. I felt lust stirring inside me and I fought it down. I would need a clear head to deal with Lilith.

“Here to taunt me?” I asked.

A smile played on her lips. “As satisfying as that would be, we have one last piece of business to discuss.”

“Not interested,” I shrugged. I learned my lesson dealing with Lilith.

“Even if it would save your life.” Her smile broadened. “And your precious Mary’s life.”

I paused. I didn’t want to die. “What?”

“I want Karen.”

“You want the thing growing inside her, you mean?”

Her eyes tightened and she pursed her lips. “Yes. I want Karen, and my child, until she gives birth. Then I’ll return her to you.”

I squinted. “Why. Once I’m dead, how can I stop you from having her? What game are you playing at, Lilith.”

“You bonded her with the Zimmah ritual. Did you forget what I told you?” Her eyes narrowed in disgust. “Did you forget that when you die all those bound to you will die. And I can’t have Karen dying before she gives birth. That would spoil all of my plans.”

“So, in exchange for me loaning you Karen until your child is born, you will return me to the health I had before Alice shot me,” I carefully said. “And you will return Karen to me unharmed.”

“I will do nothing to harm Karen,” Lilith promised.

I frowned. I couldn’t see any loopholes. I’m sure they were there, but I really had nothing left to lose. “Then we have a deal, Lilith.”

She smiled a predatory, triumphant smile. “I grant your boon, Mark Glassner,” her words purred through the darkness and suddenly I was filled with pain and…

…I was staring up at the sky. I had a mask over my face. Two strange men and a woman were leaning over me. They were paramedics, I realized. I sat up, pushing the facemask off. I felt something piercing my arm, an IV I realized, and ripped that out.

“What the fuck!” the first paramedic shouted.

My shirt was gone and several bandages dotted my chest and stomach. I ripped them off to see my perfectly unharmed chest and stomach smeared with some dark blood. I felt alive. I smiled broadly and yelled my exhilaration into the sky. I was alive. I could feel the tickle of grass on my hands, the feel of the warm sun kissing my skin and a soft breeze rustling my hair. The world smelled alive and wonderful.

“I am alive!” I roared and laughed. Nothing else ever felt so sweet. “Mary, I’m alive!”

“It’s a miracle,” the female paramedic gasped. “The wounds have healed. My God, they’re completely gone.”

There were cops standing around, all staring in amazement at me. “How?” one asked me.

“A miracle,” another whispered.

“Praise God,” a cop whispered.

“What are you?” a fireman asked. “How did you…”

“Tell me you got that! Tell me you were rolling film?” a woman demanded. Debra from Q13 Fox, her microphone hanging loosely in her hand as she stared in wide-eyed amazement. “Tell me you to got that?”

“Holy shit, I got that,” her cameraman answered, pointing is camera at me. “I got the scarlet light and everything. Holy fucking shit!”

“This is unbelievable,” Debra gasped. “Let’s do my coverage over there and then upload this to the network! Jesus, this is the news story of the century. A miracle happened and we caught it!”

I was about to object to Debra’s plans when I got a good look at the cul-de-sac and my heart stopped. It looked like a war zone. The street was lined with ambulances, fire trucks, and cop cars. And everywhere I looked there were people lying on the ground, some had paramedics working on them, others were covered by blankets. Houses and cars were shot up. Bullet casings glinted gold in the sunlight.

And blood. Dark blood pooling on pavement, splashed on the sides of houses, running down the fenders of cars.

I looked back at our house and gasped. Bullet holes racked along the front of the house, shattering windows. Our sluts were clustered on the porch watching me in amazement. A stretcher came out, carried by two firemen. I stared in stunned disbelief as they walked by carrying Xiu. My busty Xiu had a mass of bloody bandages on her stomach and looked so pale as they carried her past to a waiting ambulance.

What the hell happened here? And where was Mary? The last thing I remembered was Mary’s face before the darkness. I looked around and I noticed the bodies covered with blankets dotting the neighborhood. Fear constricted my heart. No, she could not be dead. Not when I got a second chance.

“What happened? Where’s Mary?” I asked, ignoring all the cops and fireman that were watching me with awe.

“Sir, we were attacked by some nuns,” a bodyguard told me. She was Black, one of the new guards. 51, I think her number was.

“Where is Mary?” I demanded. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

“The nun took her,” 51 bitterly said. “We tried to stop her, but…”

“The nun’s used the SWAT from the raid,” Violet told me. There was a bandage on her forehead. “We were all so frightened, Master.”

The teenage slut hugged me fiercely. The other sluts followed her down, clustering about me. All of them reached out to touch me, smiling happily and muttering about me being alive. There was Alison and Desiree, and Korina, pregnant with my child. April and Lillian hugged each other in joy. Jessica and Thamina were supporting Sam, who had a bloody bandage on her leg.

All the sluts were accounted for. Xiu was being loaded into the back of an ambulance. Willow and Noel were at work. Karen was in the hospital and it was Fiona’s turn to stay with her. I frowned, no, there was one slut missing. “Where’s Chasity?” I demanded. “We need to go after the nuns. We need to rescue Mary.”

“She’s dead, sir,” 51 reported, sadly.

“Who is dead?” I asked, confused. Not Chasity.

51’s eyes flicked over to a body near the shot-up police cruiser. “Chasity, sir. She died defending Mistress. I got the man who killed her.” She patted the black machine-gun in her hands.

I stared uncomprehendingly at her. How could Chasity be dead? She was so dependable. Anger started to burn in me. These fucking nuns. Why couldn’t they just leave me the fuck alone. I never did anything to them. I felt pain in hand and uncurled my fist to see bloody nail marks in my palm.

“Who else died?” I asked, coldly, staring at my hand.

“05, 22, 34, 63, and 78,” 51 reported. “04, 30, and 47 are critically injured and may not survive. And Xiu. She took a round through the gut from inside the house. Another eighteen bodyguards have moderate injuries. There are only ten of us fit for duty.” She paused. “We killed two nuns and three of the SWAT and critically injured another four. We captured another four more with moderate injuries. One nun and a SWAT officer got away. Along with Mary. Alice, the woman who shot you, she sustained critical injuries and may not survive either.”

“Fuck,” I whispered. Emotions threatened to overwhelm me and I shoved them back down. I needed to save Mary. The rest, the grief and anger and guilt, that all could wait.

“Sam!” I barked at the injured Asian graduate student. She was our newest sex slave. She was translating the Magicks of the Witch of Endor for us. “Is there any spell in the book that would let me track Mary?”

She frowned, thinking. “Um, yes. The Alluwph ritual. You will need, um, something very personal of the person and hold it in your hands. Think about the person, about your connection with the person and say Alluwph.”

Something personal. I frowned then went into Mary’s art studio. I found my buttoned-down shirt she liked to wear when painting. She always looked so beautiful wearing only this shirt. I held it in my hands, thinking about Mary, about her beautiful smile, how the shirt draped her plump ass and how beautiful her bare legs looked. I concentrated as hard as I possibly could, and whispered, “Alluwph.”

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

I watched Karen’s hospital room from the shadows. One of Mark’s whores, Fiona, was watching Karen, a bored expression on Fiona’s face. I smiled, Karen was mine, now. Well, she was mine until the birth, and that gave me certain powers over her.

I manifested and Fiona jumped in alarm, shouting, “Lilith!”

I ignored the stupid girl. There was nothing I could do to her anyways. This manifestation could not interact with the Mortal World except in certain, very limited ways. It didn’t have the freedom of being summoned, but it was enough freedom. And owning Karen, even temporary, was one of those limited exceptions. I reached out and grabbed the unconscious woman’s hand. I could feel her life being slowly drained by my vessel growing quickly inside her.

“Soon,” I whispered to her belly. Soon my vessel would be born I would be free of the Abyss forever.

I concentrated and drew Karen with me back into the Shadows and then shifted to Seattle, to the house of Babylon. It was a modest dwelling, but adequate, for now. I concentrated again, and Manifested with Karen into the guest bedroom. Chantelle and Lana were ready, scooping Karen up off the floor and placing her gently in the waiting bed.

“Keep her safe,” I charged my High Priestesses.

“We won’t fail you, my Goddess,” Chantelle murmured.

Both women stared reverently at Karen’s belly. Lana reached out and placed her hand ever so gently on Karen’s stomach. A smile quickened on her face. Chantelle’s hand joined hers, awe painting Chantelle’s beautiful face. They both knew their Goddess grew within.

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

I whispered, “Alluwph.”

From my chest, a pair of entwined red threads, wrapped so tightly together they were practically one thread. A black chain wrapped about both of the threads, shackled them together. I recognized those red threads. They connected my soul to Mary’s soul and represented our love. The threads led off to the south, vanishing through the wall. Tears were shining in my eyes.

“I’m coming, Mare,” I whispered. “Just hold on.”

I ran back outside. “51, gather the remaining bodyguards. We’re going after Mary.”

“Yes, sir!” 51 saluted.

The ten bodyguards still fit for duty and I piled into three cop cars. I rode shotgun in the lead car, guiding 51 as best as I could. The line pointed straight to where Mary was, but not which streets to take. We tore off down Shaw Road heading south. Eventually we were forced to cut west when we hit Sunrise Drive. We drove west until we reached Meridian, and then we turned south. We passed through Graham, racing as fast as we could. Once we were through Graham, heading out towards Eatonville, the threads led us down several side roads until we came to a single house in the middle of a field. A silver Jeep Cherokee parked in the driveway. The threads pointing right towards the house.

We got out of the car, the bodyguards flanking out to encircle the house. Three of them were armed with AR-15’s, the others with handguns and shotguns. All were wearing flak jackets. My heart was hammering. My Mary was inside that house. I was so close. I just wanted to run across the field and kick in the door and save my love.

The door to the house banged open and an unarmed SWAT officer walked out, his arms held up. He marched forward, straight towards me. The bodyguards all trained their weapons on him but none opened fire. I could see the SWAT officers aura, the black of a Thrall, but surrounded by a band of gold, a corona of light around darkness.

“Mark Glassner I have a message for you!” he shouted. “You, and only you, are to enter the house unarmed. If you enter armed or if anyone else enters, Theodora shall kill your woman. You have five minutes or Mary dies.”

And then he turned and started walking back to the house. I stood up and 51 grabbed my arm. “Master, don’t. Never give a hostage taker another hostage.”

She was quoting her training at me, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t risk Mary’s life. If this Theodora wanted to talk. Fine. She had a lot to answer for. I strode out across the field, almost catching up with the SWAT officer before I reached the house. I followed him in and he led me to a small living room.

Mary was gagged and her arms were bound behind her back. Tears ran down her eyes and she struggled against her restraints. A sandy-blonde woman, young like all the nuns, with piercing blue eyes, stood next to Mary, a 9mm handgun pointed at her head. Fear roiled inside me. I would need to be careful. I didn’t want to provoke this woman, not with Mary’s life at stake.

“I am Mark Glassner,” I said, holding my hands out to the side. “Let’s talk, Theodora. There’s no need for any more violence.”

“I’ve been speaking with Mary, here, and she seems to think there’s some good in you,” Theodora answered. Her blue eyes were skeptical of the claim.

I noticed Theodora’s face was puffy from crying and there was something familiar about it. Mary and her could almost be sisters, I realized. Their faces have a similar, heart shape about them. “We can come to an arrangement, Theodora. No one else needs to get hurt.” Especially not my Mary.

“Mary claims that you would give up your powers for her.” She cocked the hammer. “Well, let’s put that to the test. You can walk out of here, Mark Glassner, and keep your powers, and I’ll kill Mary. Or, you can let me exorcise you.” A smile played on her lips. “Let’s see if you can really give up all that power.”

I looked at Mary’s face, at her green eyes. I saw the trust in her eyes, the love. Could I give up all my power for Mary? Memories of Mary floated through my mind, all the fun we’ve had. All the times I watched her sleep. The times I’ve gazed deeply into her green eyes. The feel of her as I held er in my arms. Could I give up all my powers for that? Could I give up the thrill of making someone do what I want them to do? The pleasure of a woman submitting to my lusts. Was Mary worth giving all that up?

Yes, she was.

“Exorcise me,” I said, calmly.

The SWAT officer grabbed my arm and ratcheted a metal handcuff about my wrist, then he pivoted and I was being slammed into the ground. I coughed, the wind was knocked out of me when I hit the hardwood floor. Stunned and struggling to breath, the SWAT officer easily dragged me over to a metal radiator and slid the handcuff through the pipes and ratcheted the cuff about my other wrist.

Theodora sighed in disbelief and pulled the gun away and handed it back to the SWAT officer who holstered his weapon. “I can’t believe you would do this,” she whispered, glancing back at Mary. She bit her lip and for a moment; she looked liked a blonde Mary. “You must really love her.”

“More than anything,” I answered. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Of course,” she answered and began pulling off her maid outfit. I blinked, why was she wearing a maid’s outfit? It was gray smock, the type you’d see a maid wear at any hotel. Underneath, she was naked and quite lovely, full breasts with fat nipples, a trimmed, blonde bush between sleek thighs. My cock stirred and I didn’t fight the lust.

There was no point in fighting. Theodora won.

She walked over to me and I looked away, finding Mary’s eyes. I focused on her beautiful, emerald eyes as I felt her hands fumbling with my pants and then they were pulled down, along with my boxers. A warm, soft hand stroked my cock until I was fully erect, then I was engulfed in a warm, wet pussy.

Theodora moaned softly and started riding my cock, rolling her hips. She was quite good. All these supposedly holy nuns were so good at fucking. Karen really knew how to work a dick. And this Theodora also knew just how to please a man. She rose up and down on me, faster and faster. She felt so amazing and I pretended it was Mary on me. Mary’s velvety cunt bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm.

I would go to jail. I would try and protect Mary as much as I could, but there was no way I wasn’t going away for the rest of my life. But Mary would get to live, and that was worth it. Hell, maybe they’ll give me conjugal visits. The last three weeks of my life with Mary had been the best. I would never want to give them up.

My balls were tightening, Theodora’s gasps was getting heavier and louder. She was enjoying herself, I realized. Well, she might as well enjoy her work. I was getting so close, just a few more strokes and it would be over. I kept staring into Mary’s green eyes. I saw the love in them. She was worth it.

I groaned as my balls tightened and the pleasure surged through my body. My cum shot inside her tight cunt, filling Theodora’s pussy. I could feel her cunt spasming on my cock as she came, her back arching in pleasure. She threw back her head and shouted a single word.

“Zebed!”

I gasped in amazement. Instead of the my power being drawn out of me like I expected, I felt golden power flow into me. The energy was warm and filled every fiber of my body. Every fiber of my soul. I saw Mary’s eyes wideningin amazement. I looked up at Theodora, her face flushed from her orgasm, and her aura was fading from the gold of a nun into the silver of a regular human.

Theodora was no longer a nun.

“What did you do to me?” I asked Theodora in confusion.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 31.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Greater Good

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 29: The Greater Good

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Violence

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 28.



“Mark is wrong for you!” Alice screamed at me. She looked crazed. Even when we fought back at the hotel room, she didn’t look this insane. What was wrong with her? Why had she driven up here to begin with. Just an hour ago we were fighting back in that motel room. Why couldn’t she just understand that I loved Mark not her.

“You have to leave, Alice,” I yelled back. I was starting to regret telling Alice that she could ignore my commands.

“Alice,” Mark said calmly as he stepped up beside me. Alice’s hands moved, blurring as she reaching into her purse. She pulled something small and black out. What was it? Mark continued talking, “You have to understand…”

“Gun!” 63 shouted. 63 was right, there was a gun in Alice’s hand. A small gun, the perfect thing to hide in a purse. What was she doing with that, I stupidly wondered as she leveled the gun at Mark’s chest

The crack of Alice’s gun drove all thoughts from my mind.

Mark grunted and I looked at my fiancee and my eyes widened in horror. Blood blossomed on Mark’s chest, surprise painting his face, and he was falling back. Everything was going slow, like the action scene in a comic book movie. And Alice kept squeezing the trigger, her gun barking over and over and more and more blossoms of blood sprouted on Mark’s torso. Someone shouted behind me, more guns were firing, and Alice was falling backwards, her own bloody blossoms opening on her breast.

Mark hit the ground with a thud. Everything was silent.

“Mark!” This couldn’t be happening. I dropped to my knees. There was so much blood, blossoming red across Mark’s shirt. No, this couldn’t be happening. I pushed my hands down on one of the blossoms, the blood warm and sticky. I had to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me, Mark!” I begged, looking down at his ashen face.

His blue eyes found my face, his lips moved. He was trying to tell me something but only blood leaked out of his lips.

“Please, Mark!” I pleaded. “Help! Help!”

The bodyguards were swarming over to us, dropping down to help me put pressure on Mark’s wounds. Chasity was standing nearby, shouting into her police radio. Mark’s blood was warm on my hands and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing, but it was so shallow. This cannot be happening! Thamina appeared, shoving one of the guards out of her way. The Muslim slut was carrying her medical bag and she started treating Mark. She was an ER nurse, I remembered. She can save Mark.

“Ambulance is on the way, Mistress,” Chasity told me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Master will be fine.”

He would be fine, I lied to myself.

Thamina took a pair of scissors and quickly cut open Mark’s shirt. His chest and stomach was covered in smears of bright blood. Thamina pulled out pressure bandages, ripping open the paper wrapping and deftly began patching Mark’s wounds.

“Lift him up, I need to see if there are any exit wounds,” she calmly ordered. How could she be so calm, Mark was dying.

No, Mark was going to be okay. If I kept telling myself that, maybe it would be true. Mark was going to be okay. Mark was going to be okay. Oh, please, let my Mark be okay. I stroked his pale face and bent down and kissed his forehead. Stay with me Mark, please, please, please stay with me.

A tear ran hot down my cheek and splashed on his forehead.

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

“He still lives,” I said, watching Mark Glassner being worked on by the Arab woman. I floated with Gabriel in the Light, watching the Mortal world. “What does the future look like, Gabriel?”

“He may live long enough for outside interference,” Gabriel said, studying the threads. “Dispatch the Priestesses, Ramiel. We cannot let one of Lucifer’s creatures interfere. The human’s medical technology will keep Mark alive for hours, yet. Plenty of time for our fallen brother to save his life.”

“For the future,” I whispered sadly.

Theodora was waiting outside the boxy vehicle that contained her soldiers, standing with her fellow Priestesses; Isabella and Agnes. All three were wearing armor, the black vests that humans wore in this age to protect against their devastating weapons. Guns. There were no limits to human violence I had learned over the millennium. Or any limits on their inventiveness.

I touched her lightly, watched her shudder in pleasure. “Alice has failed. Send in your soldiers, Theodora.”

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

Fear clutched at my heart. Master lay dying on the ground. His killer lay dying a few yards past him, shot by the bodyguards on duty. My heart was hammering in my chest. Master couldn’t die. He was so powerful. I felt like I was about to fall apart. My fear was threatening to drown me in despair.

No! You have to keep it together, Chasity. Master put you in charge of the bodyguards. You need to stay in control. You have the command here. Mistress is too distraught to give any orders. And Master… Master needs you to be strong. There is only you, Chasity. Master and Mistress are counting on you. So don’t you dare let them down by giving into your weakness.

Keep it together, Chasity.

Thamina was working on Master, attaching an IV from her medical kit. Fiery-haired 63, one of the new bodyguards from Monday’s recruitment was holding the IV, squeezing the bag to get more fluids back into Master. He had lost so much blood. I glanced over at Alice. 01 and 24 were attending to the woman, securing her gun and putting pressure on her gunshots. I was tempted to let the bitch bleed out, but that wasn’t my call. That wasn’t my training.

I scanned the neighborhood, looking for other threats. My slut-sisters; Alison, Desiree, April, Violet, Xiu, Korina, Lillian, and Sam watched anxiously from the porch. The reporter, Debra, that had been filming the house when Master was shot was was recording his dying. Jessica stood next to her arguing with the woman while her cameraman filmed Master’s struggle for life. She shouldn’t be filming Master like this, I thought with anger.

I started to move over to the reporter when my Nextel chirped. “22 to Chasity, we have unusual activity out here.”

I pulled out my Nextel and pushed the button. It chirped, connecting me to the network, and I asked, “What, 22?” 22 was one of the units guarding the entrance to the street.

“We have three SWAT vans incoming,” 22 answered.

I frowned. There was nothing on the police band about any SWAT units dispatched. Besides, no SWAT unit could respond this fast. Not ahead of any patrol unit. My stomach sank. “Chasity to all units, we are under attack!” My heart was hammering in my chest.

Gunfire barked from the entrance to the street where 22 and the three others guarded the entrance followed by a loud crash and then I could see the first SWAT van rounding the curve of the street, racing down towards us. Gunfire erupted all down the street as the bodyguards fired at the vans. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the reporter and Jessica dive for cover as the Cameraman knelt down and kept right on filming.

“Mistress!” I shouted, grabbing her shoulder. I had to get her to cover. We were too far from the house. The SWAT vans were screeching to a stop at the cul-de-sac. I quickly scanned the area. There was one of our patrol cars parked ten feet away and I grabbed Mistress and dragged her with me. Behind us, my slut-sisters were diving back into the house.

“Let me go!” Mistress shouted, struggling in my grip. “I need to stay with him.”

Master gave me orders, gave all of the bodyguards orders, if anything ever happened to Master, we had to save Mistress, even if that meant ignoring her orders. “Stay down, Mistress,” I shouted, pushing her down behind the rear tire, pining her with my knee and drawing my weapon.

I looked over the trunk of the squad car to see black-fatigued SWAT pouring out. Shit, they had MP5’s. They were wearing body armor that would stop my 9 mm, so I aimed my gun at their legs or arms, and squeezed the trigger. Automatic gun fire erupted from the SWAT and I ducked as bullets raked the squad car. The side windows shattered and rained tempered glass down on Mary and myself. The tire we were hiding behind hissed as it deflated. Cordite burned my nose and stung my eyes and my ears rang from the gunshots.

I glanced back at Master. Thamina was still working on him and 63 still held the IV. Master was too hurt to be moved. The other bodyguards by the house were taking cover and returning fire. We needed heavier weapons. I wondered if there was an AR-15 in this car. Some officers had them. Since 9-11 it wasn’t uncommon for even a patrol unit to have the civilian version of an M-16. I glanced inside the cop car I hid behind and all I saw was a riot shotgun. Another burst of fire raked the car and I huddled down atop Mistress.

My heart thudded with fear and only my training was keeping me going. Mistress was huddled in a ball on the ground, covering her head with her arms. I wanted to crawl up in a ball and join her, but I had a job to do. Master and Mistress needed me to be brave. I peaked out around the cop car’s trunk and saw a Black woman wearing a vest crouching behind a van, barking orders at the SWAT officer.

She must be a nun, I realized. And these were the SWAT officer’s from the raid two weeks ago. I knew enough about the magic to realize the nuns were controlling the SWAT officers. Without the nuns, we might just have a chance.

I grabbed my Nextel. “Chasity to all units, there are nuns commanding the SWAT. Aim for any women!” Then I pulled out my police radio. “1 David 324, Officers in distress, 2932 Mountain View Court!” I shouted. “Officers under attack from suspects posing as Pierce County SWAT. Suspects have heavy weapons and body armor! 1 David 324, 2932 Mountain View Court, over.”

“Copy that 1 David 324,” dispatch responded. “Sending all units to your location, 2932 Mountain View Court.”

I peaked out, looking for that Black woman. The SWAT officers were forming a circle, using their vehicles for cover as they fired at my women. One SWAT was down, clutching a leg. I saw the Black woman and I emptied my clip at her. Sparks glinted off the vehicle as my bullets struck around her and then she was down, one of my rounds catching her in the neck. Several of the SWAT officers suddenly looked dazed. One stood up from his cover and took a round in the shoulder, clutching is wound as he fell to the ground.

I swapped magazines and fired at another woman with sandy-blonde hair, but she ducked behind her vehicle. I adjusted my aim and emptied the rest of my clip at a SWAT officer, he staggered as my rounds caught him in his armor but he got back up. I ducked down, ejected the clip and pulled out my next clip. No, my last clip. I glanced over at Master and saw Thamina holding the IV in one hand and covering Master’s body with her own. Next to them, 63 was slumped on the ground. I scanned the neighborhood and more of the bodyguard were down, slumped behind bushes, on porches, or behind their cars.

I could hear approaching sirens as backup was nearing. We just had to hold out a little longer. On the police radio, I could hear all the units that were responding to our location. A TAC alert had just been issued, and all the units in the County were descending on us. We just had to hold out a little longer.

The gunfire was dwindling. I wasn’t the only one running out of ammo. I looked up to see three of the SWAT officers advancing and one nun. The lead two officers were holding riot shields and then the blonde nun and the other officer were huddled behind them. I unloaded my last clip at them, bullets ricocheting off the riot shields, trying to hit the unprotected side of the nun. Instead I hit one of the shield bearer in the knee. He screamed in pain and collapsed on the ground, exposing the nun.

The others returned fire at me and I ducked back down behind the cop car. I could hear the metallic tink of their bullets slamming into cop car around me. They were only a few feet away. I looked around. I was the only bodyguard still up in front of the house. I was the only one left to protect Master and Mistress.

And all I had was my TASER and my nightstick.

If I stunned the nun, maybe her control of the SWAT officers will be interrupted long enough. It was a long shot. And I couldn’t hit her in the vest. I drew my TASER, released the safety. I would have to aim carefully to hit the gap between the front and back of her vest. I would be a sitting target. My bulletproof vest was in the house. At this range, there was no chance that they’d miss me.

I glanced at Mistress curled up on the ground. As a cop I swore an oath to serve and protect the innocent. I stood up and aimed, my heart pounding in my breast. I focused on the nun, ignoring the SWAT officer raising up his weapon. The laser sights of the TASER glowed red on the nun’s side, at the vulnerable gap on her left side. I exhaled and squeezed the TASER’s trigger as the muzzle of the MP5 flash and…

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

The blonde cop rose up from behind the squad car.

She was the one that killed Agnes, I realized. She was pointing something at me, not a gun. It was two thick and boxy to be a gun, and striped with yellow. You need to do something, Theodora, I thought, willing my legs to jump to the side. Everything was happening to fast, my body just refused to move. The blonde cop squeezed her finger and something flew at me trailing wires and I felt pain as it struck me in the side. Duncan fired his sub-machine gun and the blonde cop was cut down, falling back in a spray of red. I pulled a small, metal dart out of my side. A TASER I realized. But only one of the prongs hit me, the other stuck harmlessly in my vest.

Shots whizzed past me and Duncan was struck in the back of the neck, collapsing. More of those bodyguards were firing at us from behind. Some of them had their own machine guns. This entire attack was falling apart. I could hear the sirens approaching. More cops. We had to wrap this up, quickly.

I ducked behind the cop car as the woman with the rifle continued firing at us. Crouched at me feet was an auburn haired woman using the wheel of the cop car as cover. Her aura was red, the aura Warlock. Mark lay dead or dying on the ground, another Thrall was working on him, so this must be his lover.

I glanced back at Dennis and saw the blonde woman who shot the TAZER at me and I almost vomited. This was everything I feared would happen. She was a Thrall and clearly was dead, her black aura was gone. It had been so long since I looked at a person and not seen the aura. And she wasn’t the only Thrall dead because of my actions. It was my duty to save, Thralls not kill them.

This is all for the Greater Good, Theodora. All for the Greater Good, I kept telling myself.

Then why did I feel so dirty?

I was about to order Dennis, my last SWAT officer, to shoot the female Warlock before we got overrun, when the Warlock looked up at me. She had deep green eyes and a freckled face. She was so familiar. An image swam up in my mind of a little girl laughing as I pushed her on the swing in the backyard of my old house, her auburn hair flowing behind her. That was in another lifetime, when I was Tiffany Sullivan, loving wife and mother of three.

A look of shock appeared on the Warlock’s face. “Mother?” she asked, hesitantly.

Oh my god, it was her. My Mary. How could she be a Warlock? I didn’t know what to say and then I saw anger burning in her emerald eyes. My daughter hated me, I realized. My thoughts were scattered. Ramiel and Gabriel must have known and they kept it from me. My daughter hated me. My daughter sold her soul to the devil. I was sent to kill my own daughter.

“Mother!” she snarled and leapt at me, her fingernails scratching at my face.

“Grab her,” I ordered at Dennis, trying to wrestle my daughter off my face.

The SWAT officer grabbed Mary, easily pulling her off me. Deinnis pulled her arms behind her back and quickly snapped plastic wrist ties about Mary’s wrists, trapping her hands behind her back. Mary struggled like a wildcat, kicking and screaming at me. “You fucking bitch! You killed him! You fucking nun! You did something to Alice, too! I’ll kill you, Mother!”

“Back to the van,” I ordered. Several of the Thralls were circling the around towards us, including the one with that big, ugly rifle that killed Duncan. Guilt shuddered through me, he was another one of my victims. We ran back to the van. Dennis threw Mary in the back and then raced up the side of the van for the driver seat. I jumped in after Mary. Something struck me in the back and I fell to the floor of the van. I felt like something punched me in the back. “Go, Dennis!” I screamed hoarsely as the bodyguard raced towards us.

I slipped my hand between my back and the vest. I found where I got shot but there was no blood, just a large bruise. The vest stopped the round. I sighed in relief, and sat up as the Dennis put the van into gear.

The van peeled out, clipping a cop car as Dennis took the turn around the cul-de-sac and then we were racing down the block. I saw Agnes lying dead in a pool of blood and Isabella slumped against the side of a car. Grief was threatening to overwhelm me. Guilt threatening to drown me. More bodies littered the neighborhood. More of my victims.

“I’ll kill you, Mother!” Mary shouted from behind me.

The sirens were coming closer. I needed to do one more thing. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the SWAT van. I drew a deep breath and uttered a single word. “Cathar.” Energy rippled out of me, into the van. A prayer of invisibility, the final Prayer Ramiel taught me.

“Drive carefully,” I ordered Dennis. “No one can see us.”

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

I saw the muzzle of the MP5 flash and…I was standing in shadows. I blinked, looking around in confusion. Everywhere I looked was a gray-black mist of nothingness. I frowned, no there was something over there. People? Huddled in a circle, maybe. They were mere forms in the shadowy haze. Seeing nothing else here, I walked towards them.

What was going on? Where am I?

As I drew nearer, the huddled forms resolved into 05 and 78. And just beyond them were 63 and 22. My heart churned. I last saw 63 lying dead next to Master, her face ruined by the bullet that struck her. And 22 was at the entrance when the SWAT poured in. Dread nibbled at my heart. Was I dead? The flash of the MP5 filled my memory.

No, I could not be dead. Master and Mistress need me. They were under attack.

“Where are we?” I asked. They all turned to look at me. “63, you were shot. You looked dead?”

63 nodded sadly. “I protected Master,” she whispered, pushing her auburn hair back behind her shoulders.

“This must be a dream,” I protested. “I can’t be…”

“Dead?” an ancient voice whispered from behind. “I am afraid you all are dead.”

I turned to see an old man, dressed in gray robes, almost invisible in the shadows. “I can’t be dead,” I protested. “I have to save Mistress. She’s under attack.”

“You died trying to save your Mistress, Chasity Sarah Vinter.” The man gave a tired smile.

“Who are you,” 05 asked.

“I am Virgil, Dove Tawny Atterberry,” Virgil answered, speaking 05’s name. He paused, as if he expected us to know whom he was. Then he sighed. “Americans, none of you study the classics.” Virgil shook his head in disgust. “None of you even played that bastard video game? No, well, that’s for the best. You are all dead and this is Limbo, or the Shadow. The closet part of the Abyss to the Mortal World.”

“The Abyss?” I asked, in confusion.

“Hell, Gehenna, Tartarus, Sheol,” Virgil answered. “The Abyss has been called by many names. You are here because Mark Glassner bound your souls to his. Here you shall await your Master’s death, to spend eternity with him.” Virgil focused his eyes, like he was peering into the shadows.” I do not think you will have to wait long.”

I frowned, it was almost like he was seeing Master. I concentrated, picturing Master and I could see through shadows and there was Master still dying on the ground. I thought of Mistress and the vision blurred and there was Mistress, tied up in the back of a SWAT van snarling at the sandy-blonde nun.

I wanted to ask Virgil questions, but he was gone, faded back into the shadows. I took 63 and 05’s hands, squeezing them and sat down. “We will be reunited with Master,” I said, reassuringly to my women. “We just have to wait.”

“Where are we?” a new voice asked in confusion.

I glanced over to see 34 appear. I held out my hand to her, letting go of 63’s hand. “I have some sad news,” I told her as she squeezed between 63 and myself.

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

I was falling into darkness.

I was dying.

Alice shot me and I was dying.

I never thought that this is how it would end. Getting shot by a jealous woman so she could have my fiancee. Mary would be joining me, soon, I realized sadly. Mary wished for youth and health for as long as I lived. When I died, so would she. Regret blossomed in my heart. I would never get to see my child that grew in Korina’s belly. I would never get to make a child with Mary. And I wanted so very much to marry my sweet filly. To watch her walk radiant down the aisle towards me in her wedding dress. I pictured her, dressed in white, a veil obscuring her pretty face, flowers in her hand. Her auburn hair would have been a splash of color against the purity of her dress. She would have been so beautiful.

“You can still see her, Mark,” a woman’s voice floated out of the darkness. “You are not dead, yet.”

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 30.

The Devil’s Pact Chapter 11: Confrontation

 

 

The Devil’s Pact

Chapter 11: Confrontation

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2013


Story Codes: Male/Female, Female/Female, Male/Female/Teen female, Mind Control, Exhibitionism, Non-Consensual, Violence, Anal, Oral, 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 Chapter 10



“All set,” I asked Violet through gritted teeth. I was balls deep in Lillian, the salesgirl at the Hot Topic, ass nearing my orgasm.

“Yes, Master,” Violet asked. She looked cute and sexy in a black, halter top dress with a short, gauzy skirt and black knee socks held up by garters encircling her pale thighs. “I’ve never worn something so … revealing before,” she said, holding the edge of skirt that barely fell past her ass.

“Bend over, Violet,” I ordered, enjoying Lillian’s tight ass.

Violet blushed. “Okay, Master.”

Violet bent over and her skirt rose up, exposing her slim, teenage ass and the curly hairs covering her cunt. Her pubic hairs glistening with juices and the tight slit of her pussy was just visible. I started fucking Lillian’s ass hard as I stared at her cunt, remembering how tight it had been on my dick in the elevator. Violet was a virgin when I took her last night. Only my cock had ever been in her tight cunt, and I planned on keeping it that way.

“Oh, fuck!” I moaned, buried my cock deep in Lillian’s hot ass and shot a loud of cum deep into her bowels.

“Cum in my ass!” Lillian moaned. “Oh, fuck! Master’s cum is spraying my ass! Yes, oh fuck, that feel so fucking good!” She shuddered and came on my cock. Outside Hot Topic, the crowd of teenage boys filming us cheered and applauded.

Violet looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Did seeing my vagina make you cum, Master?”

“Yeah, seeing your pussy, did,” I said, emphasizing pussy. Hopefully, Violet would realize that dirty sluts didn’t have vaginas; only cunts, twats, snatches, or pussies.

I pulling my dirty cock out of Lillian and Violet knew just what to do. She walked behind the counter and knelt before me, not even flinching at where my cock had just been, and sucked it right into my mouth. I gripped her pig tails and fucked her face violently. I had been looking forward to using her pigtails as handlebars and I didn’t last long. Five strokes into her warm mouth and I flooded her with my cum. She coughed, semen running down her lips.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, wiping at her watery eyes.

Lillian bent down and licked the cum off Violet’s lips. I had trained her well, too. “Remember to make the sex tape,” I told her.

“Yes, Master,” Lillian purred.

Lillian bagged the purchase. Unlike last time, I paid with money from the bank robberies. I then slipped a hundred dollar bill down Lillian’s dress, groping her tit and hard nipple. “Get something naughty to wear for your date with Zelda.”

She smiled and rose up on her toes to kiss me. “Sluts don’t kiss their masters with cum on their lips,” I told her and kissed her forehead. I didn’t mind so much when Mary kissed me with my cum on her lips. She was my fiancee, the love of my life. But Lillian was just another slut.

“Sorry, Master,” Lillian said contritely.

Violet gathered her bags and we headed to the Mustang, still guarded by the group of teenage boys. I gave each a hundred for their time. We had a hard time squeezing Violet’s clothes bags into the trunk because of all the duffel bags full of money I had stolen from a couple of Banks today. The engine roared to life and I peeled out of the parking lot and caught the light at Meridian and raced east up 37th Ave towards Shaw Road and the house I took from Brandon Fitzsimmons. The fact I stole his wife, a voluptuous Latina named Desiree, was just icing on the cake.

My phone chirped and I handed it to Violet. “Its a text from Mistress,” she said. “It says, ‘ Hun, just got home. Meeting with Alice went well, tell ya all the juicy details later!’ There’s a Smiley face. ‘When will you be home? Love, your naughty filly!’ And a kissy face. ”

So, Mary had some fun this afternoon, too. I couldn’t wait to here about it and then tell her all about the bank tellers I fucked today, including a hot bitch named Monica who came on my cock will talking to her husband on the phone. “Text her, ‘Home in 5, Mare. Love, your randy stallion!’ ”

Violet’s fingers flew across the touch keyboard on my phone. Christ, how did anyone type that fast on a phone? She texted the message faster than it took me to say it. I gunned the engine, and we roared up 37th St, when a siren blared behind me and I jumped, seeing red and blue lights in my review mirror. Shit! I guess it’s going to to longer than five minutes, I thought as I pulled off onto a side street.

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

As I walked up to the front door my phone buzzed and I got a text back from Mark. “Home in 5, Mare. Love, your randy stallion!” it simply said. I smiled happily. I couldn’t wait to get Mark in bed and tell him all about the fun I had with Alice. Putting my phone back in my purse, I reached for the front door, humming happily to myself.

I frowned, it was dark inside. And quiet. I flipped the light switch on the wall. Nothing. I flipped it a few more times. The light must be burned out. I stepped into the entryway. “Hello,” I called. No one answered. Frowning, I wondered if Desiree and the three waitress weren’t back from shopping. But Allison should be home. “Allison! Get your slutty ass down here!”

Nothing. I had a weird feeling in my stomach and sat my purse down on an end table next to the door and headed down the short hallway into the living room. It was dark in here, too. The heavy curtains draped the windows, blocking the sunlight. I could see forms standing in the corners of the room. Was Mark playing a prank on me? Some sort of sex game?

“What’s going on?” I asked the shadowy forms, stepping out of the hallway into the living room.

A lamp flickered on and saw the sluts arranged around the room. Allison stood to my right, just inside the living room. There was Desiree, clutching a bat, and Korina holding a rolling pin. What the fuck was up with that, I asked myself? Xiu crouched to my left and Fiona stood in the hallway towards the kitchen. And sitting on the couch, naked, was a girl, maybe eighteen, that I didn’t recognize. She had a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs clutched in her hand. I smiled, eying the girl up and down, drinking in her beauty. She was hot. Mark must have set up some sort of sex game, and I licked my lips in excitement. The strange girl had light brown hair that fell in curly locks about her shoulders. Her eyes were gray and widened in stunned surprise. Her breasts were well-shaped and pert, B Cups, and her waist was slim.

“Warlock,” the girl muttered in surprise.

“What?” I asked, confused. I looked around the room and realized something was … off. I couldn’t quite put my finger one what, until I noticed the sluts faces. Their faces were all blank, like all their thoughts and feelings had been removed, leaving unblinking robots. My stomach sank, I should get out of here, get outside. Mark would be here any minute. An evil smile crossed the strange girls lips, sending a chill spilling across my skin.

Run, a voice shouted in my head. Get moving! Get your ass moving, girl!

I turned to flee as the strange girl shouted something. My heart pounded loudly, drowning out everything save its loud beats. Allison grabbed the collar of my blouse and pulled me back. For a moment the blouse was strangling me, cutting into my throat, before Allison overcame my momentum. I fell back into the room, stumbling and tripping over the ottoman, and falling onto my side.

“What the fuck, Allison!” I shouted, anger replacing fear. How dare the slut lay fingers on her Mistress. “Desiree, Xiu, punish the bitch!” I ordered, struggling to get up.

Fiona leaped on top of me, grabbing my arms. I struggled in her grasp. Her grip was tight on my wrists, her fingernails biting into my flesh. I managed to get my foot up and into her stomach and I extended my leg, pushing Fiona off of me. Fiona stumbled back and fell back over the coffee table and tripped up Desiree as she rushed across the room. Adrenaline surging, I pushed myself up to my feet as Allison tackled me.

We fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs and loose hair. I landed hard on my back, Allison on top of me. The breath was knocked out of my body and I laid, stunned, struggling to breath as Allison grabbed my arms. Someone was grabbing my legs, pinning them to the ground and Korina was grappling with my other arm.

“Let go!” I coughed, but the sluts ignored me. Panic was gripping my heart, constricting it with painful, cold fingers. What the fuck was going on?

“Drag her over to the couch,” the strange girl ordered and my sluts obeyed her.

The carpet rasped on my back as Allison and Korina dragged me across the living room. I struggled, wriggling my body and kicking my legs, trying to get the sluts to release me. My foot slipped out of Xiu’s grasp and caught her in the face as she tried to hold onto my feet. Her head snapped back and she stumbled backwards, falling on her ass. I felt a momentarily surge of satisfaction, something primal and ancient, at seeing crimson blood stream from her nose. The satisfaction faded quickly as Fiona grabbed my feet. I renewed my struggle, by Fiona had my legs pinned together. They stopped dragging me and then I felt cold metal snap on my left wrist, ratcheting tight.

Shit, the stranger had snapped the handcuffs on me. They pulled my arms, stretching them over my head. I screaming loudly, fighting desperately to stay free. The stranger straddled my chest and slapped my face, hard. “Stop struggling you filthy whore!” she shouted.

Allison and Korina were struggling to handcuff my other wrist through the frame of the heavy sofa. I struggled vainly, the handcuff biting painfully into my left wrist. “Stop!” I pleased, “Please, please stop!” Tears ran hotly down my cheeks. Why was this happening. “Oh God, save me, please!”

The stranger slapped me a second time. “God’s not going to save a nasty whore who sold her soul to satisfy her dirty, filthy lusts!”

I realized she was talking about my Pact. How did she know? Just who the fuck was this person. And it hit me. The Pact. I sold my soul for three wishes and one of them was for no woman to be able to resist my sexual advanced. Every woman had to submit to my sexual desires, no matter how perverse, no matter how much they didn’t want to. That was the key. This woman would be begging for me to tie her up, positively dripping. I relaxed, putting a sultry smile on my face. With a ratcheting snap, my right wrist was handcuffed. This had to work, or I was screwed. I breathed once, deeply, to calm my fear. This would work.

“Hey, cutey,” I said huskily, licking my lips. “You like bondage, huh, babe. Why don’t you free me and I’ll tie you up and make you cum so hard, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven! You’re so hot, I can’t wait to play with your slutty little pussy and then I’ll sit on your face and you can eat my tasty pussy until I cum all over your mouth.” I arched my eyebrows, suggestively.

The stranger just laughed, a deep, humiliating laugh. This should have worked. Why didn’t this work? Maybe she somehow took control of the sluts, but my power should have worked on her. Panic was growing like a worm in my breast, gnawing at my heart. “Why aren’t you brimming with lust for me? Eager to do whatever sexual thing I want?”

“God has granted me immunity from the Devil’s power,” the stranger said. “I am Sister Louise Afra, of the Order of Mary Magdalena, charged to rid the world of Warlocks!”

“W-warlock?” I stammered, confused. My throat was thick with phlegm and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. What was she talking about. “I-I’m not a …”

“I can see the blood-red aura about you,” Sister Louis said. “You sold your soul to the Devil for powers and I’m here to take them from you!”

“Please don’t hurt me!” Was that timid voice actually me. So much for Mark saying we were better than the ants. “Help! Someone help!”

“No one’s going to help you,” Sister Louise whispered. Her face filled my vision, eyes filled with an intense hatred. “Warlocks always think they can just do whatever they want, turn whoever they want into their slaves. You never care about the lives you destroy, the people you hurt.” She gripped my face, forcing me to stare into her gray eyes. “I’m going to finger your pussy until you orgasm, whore. When you cum, I’ll exorcise your powers from you.” She licked my cheek, savoring my salty tears. “And once I’m finished with you, I’ll fuck Mark and steel his powers, too.”

Oh fuck! I started to struggle against the handcuffs. The couch creaked and pain flared on my wrists. Oh, God, Mark, where are you? Sister Louise hand slid up my thigh and started to gently caress my vulva. It felt good, and desire began to kindle in my loins. I was helpless and my body was betraying me, craving pleasure against all reason. The guilt I had been burying, the guilt of getting wet at humiliating the sluts, and forcing them to beg for my affections, rose up from my soul, poisoning my thoughts. I was such a weak, vile person. To weak to control my lusts, to weak to stop Mark, stop myself, from degrading other woman, from using them as nothing more than sex toys. And now I was too weak to fight desire when a strange woman was raping me. Fuck, I am a dirty whore.

Maybe I should give up, let her take away my powers, my guilt whispered. Just close your eyes, whore, and let her take your problems away. I closed my eyes and Mark’s face floated up in my mind, his boyish smile painted across his face. No! I won’t give Mark up! I won’t give this up! I won’t give up what we’re trying to build, together! I shoved that guilt back down, forced it back into the recess of my soul. I could never give up the amazing thrill at forcing another to crawl before me. To hear a person beg just to pleasure me. Mark would be here soon and then this bitch will be crawling to me, begging to lick my pussy. I bit my lip, tying to fighting my bodies reactions to those delicious fingers tracing my delicate folds.

She thinks she can rape me! I’ll fucking show the bitch what rape is!

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

I pulled over onto a side street, the Puyallup Police cruiser following my Mustang. It was one of those new cruisers, shorter and sleeker than the old Crown Vics that cops have driving for the last twenty years. The cop was going delay me, but it was all for the best in the long run. The more Puyallup cops I dealt with, the more I could give my special commands to. There were two commands I had come up with. They were simple, “I am Mark Glassner and whatever I am doing is perfectly legal, and anyone who approaches you and says ‘I serve Mark Glassner’ or ‘I am Mary Sullivan,’ do what they say without question.”

In my review mirror I saw the officer step out, blonde hair tied up in a bun. I smiled, she looked attractive, but I couldn’t be sure. Between her utility belt and bulletproof vest it was hard to tell if she had any curves at all. Her face, well the part of her face not obscured by mirrored sunglasses, seemed young and fresh. Mary would understand why I was late. Plus, we needed some security and a bevy of hot cops for bodyguards was making my dick hard.

The officer wrapped on the window. “Roll the window down, sir,” she ordered, brusquely.

I rolled the window down. “Hello, Officer Vinter,” I greeted, reading her nametag and then I gave her the two orders.

“Well, Mr. Glassner, then I’m sorry to detain you,” she said, obeying my commands. “You are free to go, sir.”

“Not quite yet,” I said, getting out of the car. Normally, cops hate when you get out of the car at a traffic stop, but since I told her everything I do is legal so she didn’t object. “Officer Vinter, what’s your first name.”

“Chasity,” she answered, and blushed. “But everyone calls me by my middle name, Sarah.”

“Why don’t you like Chasity?” I asked, curious.

“It’s a stripper name. I’ve never quite forgiven my parents for that.”

“I like that,” I told her. “You’ll go by Chasity from now on, because you’ve discovered you like having a stripper. It makes you feel naughty.” She nodded, smiling. “Since you have a stripper name, I want you to strip for me.”

Chasity took off her sunglasses, exposing sapphire eyes and long lashes. She was gorgeous and young, maybe twenty-one. She couldn’t have been a cop long. Next she unbuckled her heavy utility belt and sat it on the roof my Mustang next to her sunglasses. She skillfully undid the buttons of her navy blue shirt and then unvelcroed her bulletproof vest. Underneath she wore a white t-shirt and a black sports bra, which she quickly removed. Her breasts were lovely, well formed with little, pink nipples. Her tits were a little larger than Mary’s, a little fuller.

“Very nice,” I told her, reaching out to pinch a nipple before she bent down to begin unlacing her black boots.

Finally she was down to her panties, plain white. Her body was toned and athletic. She was clearly in great shape. Her ass was a little flat and her hips were narrow, but she was gorgeous nonetheless. Chasity hooked her fingers in her panties and down her thighs the slid. Her bush was blonde and matted. She definitely need to shave her pussy. Maybe he should get Joy to do a housecall. A couple of the sluts needed to be waxed and Joy did a great job on Mary’s last week.

“Chasity, you have a fine body,” I told her. “So, you’re going to be me and my girlfriend Mary’s sex slave and our bodyguard from now on. You’ll do whatever nasty things we want and be happy doing it.”

“Yes, sir,” Chasity answered. “Hi, Mary,” she greeted Violet as she walked around the car, curious.

“That’s not Mary,” I said sharply. “She’s just another slut like you. Violet, get naked.”

“Yes, Master,” Violet said, pulling off her black dress, exposing her small, perky breasts and she stood there in only her knee-socks and garters, her brunette bush sticky with her juices.

“Chasity, hop on my trunk and spread those fine legs.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, hopping up on the trunk and spread her legs wantonly.

I grabbed her nightstick and shoved it up her cunt. Chasity gasped at the sudden intrusion and I started fucking the phallic nightstick in and out of her pussy. Her juices stained the black metal and she started panting in pleasure. “You’re a fucking whore, aren’t you Officer Chasity?” I asked, ramming the nightstick in and out, hard and slow, twisting as I plunged it in.

“Oh, yes!” she gasped. “Only a whore would do this!”

That’s right, only a whore. My cock was standing straight out from my belly, hard and leaking pre-cum. Violet, like a good little slut, knelt down before me and just started sucking my cock into her greedy little mouth. Violet had gotten a lot better at blowjobs since that first, awkward one she gave me in the car this morning. I continued fucking the nightstick up Chasity twat.

“Oh, fuck that’s nice, Violet,” I moaned. “You keep that up and you’re going to get some yummy cum! But don’t swallow all of it. Chasity going to want a taste.”

Violet’s little mouth started sucking harder. She was an eager slut for my cum. Her hands cupped my ass and she started to bob her head hard on my cock, using her arms for leverage. Chasity was playing with her nipples as she writhed on the nightstick. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back in pleasure. Loose strands of hair escaped her bun, falling in blonde curls about her face.

“Crap, I’m going to cum!” Chasity moaned. “Oh, keep fucking my dirty snatch! Oh, oh, yes! That’s it!”

Chasity bellowed wordlessly and convulsed as her orgasm ripped through her. I pulled out the nightstick, dripping with her fluids. More cunt juices puddled underneath her ass on my truck. “Fuck, slut!” I snapped, angrily, “You got my car dirty!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” Chasity gasped, facing going white. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Use your tongue!” I ordered. I dropped the nightstick on the ground and grasped Violet’s pigtails. God, I loved her pigtails, and started to fuck her face hard as Chasity’s pink tongue licked her juices off my Mustang’s trunk. I came hard in Violet’s mouth, as I watched Chasity lick my car clean like a dirty whore.

Violet rose up, mouth full of cum, and pulled Chasity’s face towards her and kissed her hard, shoving a semen-full tongue into Chasity’s mouth. The two sluts kissed for a moment, swapping cum between them before I smacked both their asses. “Get dressed, Mary’s waiting. We’ll have plenty of time for that back at the house. Chasity, follow us in your patrol car. We’ll figure out how this whole bodyguard thing will work.”

“Yes, sir,” Chasity said, and saluted me, my cum staining her lips. God, I just want to bend her over the car and fuck the shit out of her. But, I told Mary I would be home in five. And it would be more fun to play with the sluts with her.

“Move it sluts,” I ordered, eager to play with our new slave with Mary. I smacked Chasity’s ass hard a second time, leaving a fading red handprint.

In short order, Violet pulled on her dress and Chasity had her boots, pants and utility belt back on. I was too impatient, though, for her to put the rest on. “You can just go topless, slut! Let the world see that nice pair of tits you got!”

We reached the house in a few minutes and parked the cars in the driveway. Violet grabbed her clothing bags, and I grabbed one of duffel bags and led the two sluts to the house. It was dark inside the entryway and I flipped the switch. The light was burned out.

“Mare, I’m home!” I shouted. Nothing. Frowning, I called out, “Sluts, is anyone here!”

There was a muffled sound coming from the living room. I dropped the duffel bag and headed towards the living room, Violet and Chasity trailing behind me. I furrowed my eyebrows, seeing the ottoman was on its side and the crap on the coffee table lay scattered on the floor. I heard something like a muffled shout and the coffee table shook.

“What’s going on in there?” I demanded as I swept into the living room.

Mary lay on the floor, handcuffed to the couch. Her face was swollen and tear stained, a pair of gray panties was shoved into her mouth as a gag. Her blouse was pushed up, exposing her freckled breasts. I rushed to my fiancee side, passing Allison and not even wondering why Desiree held a bat. What the fuck was going on, I wondered. I reached Mary, kneeling down and pulled out the gag.

“Behind you!” Mary gasped.

I looked to see Desiree swinging the bat at my head, her face oddly blank. I barely got my left arm up time. The bat connected with my forearm and pain shot through my left arm. “Fuck!” I yelled in pain. My entire arm throbbed and I stumbled back into the couch. “Stop, Desiree!” Desiree ignore me. What the fuck was happening. No one has ignore my commands since last week when I sold my soul for power.

Everything seemed to slow down as my blood howled through my veins. Desiree was bringing the bat around for another swing while Allison was wrestling Violet to the ground. Korina ran at me with a rolling pin raised and Chasity was drawing her sidearm, yelling something. I couldn’t understand her, my heart pumped too loud to hear anything. A strange woman walked calmly towards Chasity, naked and beautiful. Xiu was tripping over the ottoman, her face a bloody mess, as she charge at me and Fiona was racing out from the kitchen.

What the fuck was going on?

Chasity’s gun barked loudly, overpowering the beating of my heart and leaving my ears ringing. Desiree was falling backwards, blood arching from a hole in her chest. Another loud crack and Korina was reeling. I started to rise, and turned to grab the strange woman over the back of the couch. I swung my arms and just missed grabbing her. The stranger reached Chasity, pulling her fingers from her crotch and drew something on Chasity’s forehead with her own cunt juices. She spoke some word and their was a flash of white light and Chasity just lowered her arms, staring blankly. Her gun slipped out of her hand.

Pain exploded in the back of my head and the room spun about me and the floor flew up to hit me in the face. I rolled onto my back, struggling to think, to stand up but my limbs didn’t want to do what I told them. Korina stood over me, her left arm bloody from the gunshot and the rolling pin clutched in her right hand. What was she doing? Fuck, the slut hit me. But, why would Korina hit me? Why would any of the sluts hit me? The pain in my head became blinding, the lights in the room stabbed my eyes. The room continued to spin about and I felt like retching.

The stranger walked over to me. How could she walk so easily with the room spinning like a top. She straddled my legs, sitting down on my thighs. Who was she? I tried to move my arms and I couldn’t because my arms were being pinned down beneath Xiu and Fiona. The strange woman was undoing my pants, pulling out my cock, stroking it with her hands. I struggled to fight, but the pain in my head was almost overwhelming. What the fuck was happening?

“I’m going to take away your powers, Mark,” the woman said. Did I say my thoughts out loud? I didn’t think I had, but it was hard to think through the fuzzy pain. Maybe she could read minds?

She laughed. “No, mind reading isn’t one of the Gifts from God.” She was firmly stroking my cock and I was hardening for her. Her grip was soft and pleasant, the pleasure cutting through the pain.

“Who are you?” I asked, pretty sure I was speaking this time.

“I am Sister Louise Afra sent by God to rid you of your powers and free your ‘sluts,’ as you call them, from your bondage!”

“What did you do to Mare?” I demanded. The memory of Mary handcuffed floated up through the pain.

“Oh, your little whore’s fine.”

“Don’t call her a whore!” I snarled, trying to move my arms, but I didn’t have the strength to resist the two girls sitting on them. Another wave of nausea swept over me.

Sister Louise rose up and straddled my waist, guiding my hard cock to her wet pussy, sliding slowly down my shaft. “Oh, that’s a nice cock,” Louise purred. “I’m going to enjoy exorcising you!”

“Get off of him!” Mary snarled. “Mark, honey, you can’t cum! Whatever she does, you got to fight it!”

Sister Louise started to slowly fuck me, the pleasure warring with the pain. “She’s right,” Sister Louise taunted, “when you cum, I’ll take the powers the Devil granted from you and every person you’ve dominated will be free. And they will remember what disgusting things you’ve done to them. How you forced them to be your whores.”

“I won’t cum,” I protested, trying to think unsexy thoughts. It was a lie, though, her cunt felt too good on my cock.

“Oh, you’ll cum. You’re a man. I bet you won’t resist even half as long as Mary already has.” She leaned down, smiling wickedly, as she boasted, “I’m very skilled at fingering a woman, and she’s resisted admirably. But, once you’ve cum, I’ll get back to your precious Mary and see how long she’ll lasts this time. I bet she’s getting all wet and horny me ride your cock!”

“Fuck you!” Mary yelled. “You’re going to pay bitch! You’re going to crawl before me and beg to be my whore!”

The pain in my head was slowly receding and seemed to be getting better control of my body. I struggled, trying to buck Louise off me, but that just made her cunt feel that much better on my cock. I tried to pull my arms out from beneath Fiona and Xiu as they sat on them. Fuck, I didn’t want to lose my powers. Fear was surging through me and I struggled harder. If I lost my powers, then I would be in a lot of trouble. Rape, bank robbery, kidnapping. I would be locked up for a long time, maybe for life. I would never get to see Mary again. I struggled harder. There was no way this bitch was going to win!

“You’ve realized your fate,” Louise purred, delighting in my fear. “You know how many crimes you’ve committed. How many woman you’ve raped. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison. And when you die, you’ll still go to hell. You’re soul will still belong to the Devil!”

I struggled and felt something sharp pressing against my thigh in my left pocket. It was the crystal the Devil gave me. This must be what the Devil foresaw. Hope surged through me. If I could just get the crystal, I would be saved. Xiu was sitting on my left arm, but she was tiny and light. I gritted my teeth, focused every ounce of force I could and heaved my arm. It hurt so badly, bruised from the bat, but I kept at it. And then my arm slipped just a bit beneath her. I can do this. I had to hurry. I could feel the tightness in my balls, I wasn’t going to last much longer. I focused all my fear and panic, gathered all that energy into my left arm, and pulled one more time, yelling wordlessly.

Xiu slipped off my arm, falling onto her side. I reached for my pocket, ignoring the pain. Sister Louise scrambled to grab my hand as I shoved it into my pocket. I pulled the gem out, holding it up. Fear appeared in Louise’s eyes. She recognized the crystal. This was going to work. I opened my mouth, preparing to speak, and she shoved her hand over my mouth tightly, gagging me. I shoved my left fist against her stomach, struggling to push her off me while the crystal bit into the flesh of my palm.

“Get the crystal!” Louise ordered. “Do whatever you have to!”

Xiu recovered and grabbed my hand, trying to pry my fingers loose. Her fingernails clawed at my hand, leaving red scratches, but my fist was a steel vice. I bit at Louise palm, hard, tasting blood but she just gritted her teeth and kept her hand on my mouth. Xiu seemed to get inspiration from that because her mouth bit at my finger. The pain shot through me and I shoved my fist into her face knocking her back and I watched in horror as my hurt finger relaxed and the red gem went sailing over Xiu’s head.

My hope vanished. I was close to cumming and the crystal was my last hope. Louise was smiling in triumph and started to ride me hard. The bitch could sense I was nearing my limits. I turned my head, struggling to see Mary but Louise was in the way and all I could see were her feet frantically kicking. All I wanted was to be with Mary. And it was all about to be taken away from me.

My balls were tightening.

“Lilith, appear before me!” a woman shouted.

There was a loud crack and scarlet light flooded the room. Standing behind Sister Louise was a inhumanly beautiful woman. Her eyes glowed violet and her long hair shimmered silver. A tight, blood-red dress clung to her lush body. The dress was a translucent, crimson silk, that revealed all of her stunning curves, her hard nipples, the bush of hair covering her cunt. Her red lips grinned in a hungry, predatory smile. The woman was lust, personified.

She was Lilith, the Succubus, the Mother of Monsters.

I bit my lip. Lust crackled through the air, rippling out from the demoness in waves of desire. Crap. I was going to cum. I couldn’t hold out any longer. Not with this sexy bombshell appearing before me.

“What do you command, my Mistress,” Lilith purred, bowing towards Mary.

“Stop the nun! Stop her powers!” howled Mary in desperation. “Save Mark!”

“As you will it, so shall it be done!” Lilith grabbed Sister Louise and pulled her off my cock in the nick of time as cum spurting out and splashed onto my chest and belly. Xiu and Fiona rushed Lilith as Louise screamed in terror. The demoness merely brushed her fingertips across first Fiona and then Xiu’s cheeks and they fell to the ground, writhing in orgasms. Lilith hiked up her dress, exposing a silvery bush, matted with fluids and pulled Sister Louise face towards her cunt.

“No!” Louise protested, struggling in the demoness grip. “Please, God! Save your faithful servant!”

“God’s not here,” Lilith purred, shoving Louise’s face into her groin and writhing her hips, rubbing her pussy across the nun’s face. “And there’s nothing better than a Magdalenite Sister eating your cunt out!”

I got to my feet, struggling to think as desire surged through the room. Lilith had let go of Louise, who was now gripping Lilith’s perfect ass as she ate the demoness cunt. She no longer seemed capable of resisting, lost in the same tide of lust that threatened to overwhelm me. Mary was still handcuffed, and Desiree and Korina lay on the floor, bleeding from their gunshots. I fought the lust, and stumbled towards Chasity. I didn’t have time to put my cock away, just grabbed my pants with one hand to hold them up

Chasity was still in a daze from whatever Louise had done to her, just standing at the living room entrance. I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her, “Chasity, where’s your handcuff keys.”

“Wh-what?” Chasity asked sleepily.

“Your handcuff keys!” I shouted and slapped her across the face.

Chasity blinked, rubbing her face, and awareness seemed to flood back into her face. “Sorry, sir,” she said and fumbled with her utility belt, pulling out a set of keys.

“Call for an ambulance,” I ordered, “we have people shot. And when Lilith is finished with Louise, handcuff her!”

“Right away, sir!” Chasity reached for radio and began calling for medics while I raced back across the room, passing Lilith who was writhing on Louise’s face. As I passed Lilith, her arm brushed my hip and pleasure shot through my body. I fell to my knees as I came, shooting semen all over the carpet.

I crawled the last few feet to Mary, and fumbled with the handcuffs before I released her right arm. The flesh beneath the cuff was raw and bloody from her struggles and fresh anger surged through me. This fucking bitch was going to suffer!

Mary threw her arms around me, not even letting me unlock the handcuff from her left wrist, and hugged me tight. “Oh, Mark!” Tears were streaming from her eyes. “I was so scared!”

“Me too,” I whispered and I realized I was crying to as I crushed my filly to my chest. “You saved us.”

Lilith’s orgasm swept through the room, hitting me, hitting everyone like a brick wall. Mary shuddered in my arms as an orgasm rippled through her bodu. My cock, trapped between us, sprayed cum on our bellies. Chasity fell to the ground, gripping her stomach and moaning in pleasure, and Allison and Violet writhed together in a mess of limbs.

“Oh no!” someone shouted in horror. “Master, it’s Desiree!”

Mary relaxed her hold on me and I looked over to see Allison racing to Desiree and placing her hands over Desiree’s chest, blood soaking the front of Desiree’s maid outfit. Fuck, she was bleeding badly. Mary and I moved to her side, kneeling on either side of her. She was still breathing, but shallow breaths and her face had a pale sheen about it.

“So much blood,” Mary whispered to herself.

“Hang on, Desiree!” I shouted. “You gotta hang on, 911 on the way.”

“She’s dying!” Allison wailed. “Don’t die, Desiree! Please!”

“Stay with us, Desiree,” I pleaded, clutching a limp hand. “You cannot die! Your my slut! You don’t have permission to die!”

“Can you save her, Lilith?” Mary asked, fearful and timid.

Lilith shoved Louise from her cunt, the nun falling onto her back in a daze, her face drenched in Lilith’s girl-cum. Chasity moved to Louise and began to handcuff the woman. “I can save her,” Lilith purred. “It will cost one of your two boons remaining, Mistress.”

“Boons?” Mary asked, confused.

“When you summoned me, we entered into a contract,” Lilith explained. “Three boons are owed to you. The first was used in stopping the nun.” Lilith smiled wickedly. “Her powers are broken, now. She has been tainted by my demonic fluids. Two more boons are still owed you.”

“Then save her!” begged Mary. “She’s our slut!”

“As you command, Mistress!”

Lilith bent over the unconscious Desiree and placed her lips upon Desiree, kissing her sensuously. Desiree’s body convulsed and quivered, and I realized she was having an orgasm. The color returned to her skin and the blood stopped pumping from her breast. Lilith pulled her lips away and Desiree gasped and shuddered, dark eyes opening, licking her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Master,” Desiree wailed and flung her arms around me. “I didn’t want to hit you, but I couldn’t stop myself!”

Allison flung her arms around Mary, weeping. Fiona and Xiu crawled towards us, heads hung down in shame. Korina, clutching her wounded arm, joined them. “Forgive us, Master, Mistress,” Fiona wept.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I answered, hugging Desiree back. “That bitch controlled you, and she’s going to pay for all the hurt she caused!”

I caught Mary’s gaze and saw the same burning hatred I felt blazing in her eyes. “Oh, she will sufferer!” Mary hissed as she hugged Allison fiercely. “She will crawl on her knees and beg!”

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

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The damned alarm clock incessant noise pierced the fog of my hangover. “Turn off the alarm, Desiree,” I moaned and it was a moment before I remembered. Mark Glassner had stolen my wife, and my home from me. I was lying in my hotel room at the Four Seasons, exiled by that bastard and waiting for word back from Sister Louise that she had freed my beautiful desert rose.

My head pounded and I slapped the alarm clock, silencing its annoying beeps. I groggily rose and stumbled into the shower. After the warm shower and pair of extra strength Tylenols, I was starting to feel alive again. Ever since Louise had freed me from that fucking bastard’s control, I had become a ball of tense, nervous energy. I had spent my entire life taking charge, grasping my own destiny with my bare hands. And now I had to wait while some nun fixes my life.

God, I need a drink.

Instead, I turned on the news. I had too many meetings at work to show up drunk. The news report was almost a distraction to my thoughts as I dressed. God, never in my life had I ever felt this helpless. Not even when that cunt of a first wife cheated on me. My hand trembled. A drink would really took the edge off, a voice whispered in my head.

You’re a better man than that, Brandon, I told myself. You’re in control, not the booze. Last night was a mistake. What the fuck were you supposed to do? You just found out angels and demons were real, for Christ sake. What was a sane man supposed to do but drink. In fact, why don’t you go pour yourself another whiskey, Brandon?

I starred at the minibar, my throat parched, and swallowed. No! Have some fucking control.

“… quite neighborhood off Shaw Road in Puyallup.”

I frowned, turning to TV, forgetting all about the booze. My house was just off Shaw Road. Fear groping my heart, I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

“The homeowner, Desiree Fitzsimmons, and her boyfriend were attacked by a home invader,” the report said and I blinked. She standing was just down the street from my house. Police cars filled the streets, painting the neighborhood in strobing blue and red lights. “Only one woman was seriously injured, a friend of Desiree, who was taken to Good Sam Hospital for treatment. A woman, identified as a Louise Afra, has been detained by the Police for questioning.”

The nun failed. My heart sank. That whiskey was seeming more and more appealing by the second.

That bastard Mark had come out on top. My palms hurt, and it was a moment before I realized how tight my fist was clenched. I opened my hand and saw bloody gouges from my fingernails. Fuck, I couldn’t take this. I need to be in control. I was going mad just sitting here. I looked in the mirror. I am Brandon Fitzsimmons. I worked my way up from nothing. I never let anything stand in my way. It was time I stopped being helpless, stop relaying on others. It was time that I once again seized my own destiny.

Mark Glassner, I will get my wife back! I will inflict so much pain, so much suffering, on you! I’ll take your woman from you and fuck her before your eyes and make her moan and pant and tell you how much better my cock feels! I’ll watch the humiliation in your eyes as she cums on my dick like a bitch in heat!

No fucking power in Heaven or Hell will stop me!

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

“A woman, identified by police as Louise Afra, was arrested for investigation of breaking and entering and attempted murder,” the website read.

I still was in disbelief at reading that. For the last hour, I had been sitting at my computer staring at the screen, stunned. How could this be? Please God, let Sister Louise be fine, if it is your will, O Lord! I silently prayed.

Ever since I saw the news report about the orgy that happened in a Bestbuy up in Washington State, I knew a Warlock was operating in the area. Since then, I had been visiting the Tacoma News Tribune and Seattle Times websites every morning, looking for anymore news. There were vague reports of public sex on a tourist boat and a wild party that unexpectedly shut down the Space Needle. And I prayed fervently to God, begging Him to send the Ecstasy to me, to send me once more to battle evil.

Sister Louise must have been sent to fight the Warlock … and failed. The thought sent a tremor of fear down my spine. Sister Louise had freed me from Thralldom to a Warlock thirteen years ago. She was there when I took my vows and set aside my old name and became Sister Theodora Mariam. And now she was arrested for attempted murder. What had gone wrong, I wondered. No one was better at fighting a Warlock than Sister Louise. Fear for my friend gripped my stomach.

There was a polite rap on my door, startling me. I stood, brushing my gray habit smooth and grabbed my white veil, draping it over my head. I breathed deeply, calming myself, before I opened the door.

“Hola, Sister Theodora,” Esmeralda, a seventy-one year old Hispanic parishioner of St. Afra, the Church I was the caretaker for, greeted me. She gave me a toothless smile, warm and friendly.

“Hola,Esmeralda,” I greeted back. I realized I had forgotten to unlock the church so Esmeralda and her prayer group could use the fellowship hall. “Sorry, I just got some bad news.”

“Its alright, Sister,” Esmeralda answered, patting my arm warmly. “Is it serious?”

“I’m afraid so,” I answered, stepping out into the morning heat. 8 AM and it was already this hot, I shuddered to think how hot it would be this afternoon. LA was turning into quite a trial. “I may have to leave town to attend to it.”

“Of course, of course,” Esmeralda said, gripping my arm as we walked slowly towards the fellowship hall.

Another Hispanic woman, Rosenda, waited at the door to the fellowship hall. Rosenda, greeted me with a friendly kiss on my cheek. I reached into the pocket of my habit for the ring of keys and unlocked the fellowship hall. I held the door open for the two ladies. The florescent lights flickered a few times before humming steadily, bathing the table filled-room in soft light, when the Ecstasy came upon me.

A hand, unseen, reached through my habit as if I did not exist to caress my back. The invisible fingers sent tingles of pleasure throughout my body and a soft moan escaped my lips. The hand of the Archangel Gabriel traced my spine and his soft lips kissed at my neck, my shoulders.His every touch was burning pleasure on my flesh. I felt my knees grow week and I grabbed a chair for support.

“Are you okay, Sister Theodora?” Rosenda asked.

“I’m fine,” I gasped as Gabriel’s hand was gently squeezing my ass while his other hand slid across my waist and up to my breast. “I just need to use …” I bet my lip as Gabriel fingers gently pinched my nipple, the pleasure so intense that it was hard to think. “Please,” I begged, quietly, “not yet! Not in front of others.”

Gabriel didn’t care, his hands continued to roam my body leaving trails of fiery lust. One hand slid around my waist, down into my groin and found my pussy wet and hot, aching for his touch. My body shuddered and I clenched the back of the chair as an orgasm ripped through my body as his fiery fingers found my hard clitoris. I had to make it to somewhere private before I lost all control in front of these women.

Esmeralda and Rosenda looked at me, concerned. “I just need … oh … the bathroom,” I panted through clenched teeth.

I stumbled towards the ladies room, opening the door as Gabriel’s cock entered my pussy, his girth stretching my pussy, the tip of his dick reaching all the way to my womb. I fumbled with the lock and collapsed to the cold, tile floor as Gabriel’s cock began plunging hard and fast in my pussy. The pleasure was so intense, far greater than any mortal lover could excite from my body. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, I was about to be swept off into insensibility.

But, before the pleasure drowned my sense entirely, a thought rose up from the back of my mind: Sister Louise would be avenged. And then I was lost in a sea pleasure as orgasm after orgasm rippled throughout my body.

To be continued …

Click here for Chapter 12