The Devil’s Pact
Chapter 26: The Order of Mary Magdalene
by mypenname3000
© Copyright 2013
Story Codes: Male/Female, Male/Teen female, Teen male/Female, Male/Females, Female/Female, Female/Females, Mind Control, Rimming, Oral, Anal, Incest, Water Sports, Orgy, Magic
For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Click here for Chapter 25.
“Come in,” I said to my fellow nun’s, inviting them into my hotel room.
Well, it wasn’t actually my hotel room. Last night when I flew into SeaTac from Miami, Providence led me to an insurance adjuster named Curtis at the airport’s baggage claim. We flirted while waiting for our luggage and he invited me up to his Hotel Room. When Providence gives you a place to stay, with a cute guy to boot, you don’t say no. Right now, Curtis was attending the convention in the hotel and I didn’t expect him back for a few more hours.
“Are you hungry?” I asked my Sisters, closing the door behind them, “Curtis is paying for it?” Last night, I was on top of Curtis, enjoying his big cock in my pussy as I rode him cowgirl style, when his wife called. The asshole spoke to his wife while I fucked him, the disgusting pig. Since he turned out to be a cheating asshole I didn’t feel bad at running up his hotel bill.
“Ohh, Curtis,” the black nun said in her exotic, African accent. “Is he handsome?”
“He has the most gorgeous, blue eyes, that just make you melt in your panties,” I answered, feeling like a teenage girl for the first time in decades, gossiping with my friends about boys. “But, please order something. The asshole is married.”
“Ah, so sad to see a marriage vow so easily broken,” tutted the Latina sister.
I realized I didn’t know their names. The only nun I knew was Sister Louise and she was captured by the Warlock Mark Glassner. “I am Theodora Mariam. And…and I’m so happy you’re here.” I could feel tears running hot down my cheeks. Pull yourself together, Theodora. You’re not actually eighteen.
The Latina nun hugged me gently, rocking me like a mother. “Shh, it will be alright, muñequita. I am Isabella Cecillia.”
“Agnes Chibuzo,” the African nun said and kissed my cheek. “God has sent us to aid you in your trials, Sister Theodora.”
I sniffed. “Thank you, Sisters.”
“Now, I have been traveling almost non-stop for last twenty-four hours,” Agnes said, wearily. “It has been a long trip from Sierra Leone. So tell me, why has God, through his servant Gabriel, sent us here.”
I told them everything I knew. How Sister Louise had tried to exorcise the Warlock Mark Glassner and been captured through the interference of Lilith of the Black Moon. How I was taught the ancient prayers and used Mark sister to attack him. But that failed. His lover, the other Warlock, freed him from the bond.
“It will be far messier, Ramiel told me, yesterday,” I finished. “Soldiers will be needed. Four and four and four.”
Isabella nodded. “It is like Napoleon all over again,” Isabella sighed. “There were three of us and we each bonded four soldiers under Napoleon’s command. We exorcised Napoleon at Waterloo. His wish to be Emperor destroyed, he lost the battle.” A look of old hurt crossed the tan face of Isabella. “Sister Eustace Mariam was killed in the struggle.”
“How old are you?” I asked in awe.
“I was born in the Year of our Lord, 1732,” Isabella answered.
I blinked, I knew we nuns could practically live forever, but most of us grew weary of the struggle after sixty or seventy years and passed their powers onto a successor. The only nun I had heard of that was over a hundred yeas old was the Mother Superior. “Have you ever faced a demon?” I asked Isabella, hopefully.
“No,” Isabella confessed. “That must be why there are three of us. This Warlock is using ancient magics.” Isabella sighed, wearily, rubbing her face. “I wish we had a monk or two with us.”
“A monk?” I frowned. “You mean a male nun, like us?”
“Well, not like us,” Isabella confessed. “When Creator in his infinite mercy gave his children the means to fight the Adversary, 144 were given the gift, half were men and half were women. The men’s gifts were different from ours. They were the soldiers. Given powers to fight demons and monsters and to protect us nuns in situations like this.”
“Why have I not heard of any monks?” I asked.
“The last monk died in 1942, exorcising Hitler,” Isabella sadly answered. “Five nuns and a monk and they all perished. But they broke Hitler’s powers and the Allies were able to eventually defeat the Third Reich.”
“The problem with the monks is their calling,” Agnes explained. “Too many died fighting and were unable to pass on their powers to a successor. We have dwindled as well. Maybe a dozen of us remain.”
“I fear the end is nearing,” Isabella said mournfully. “You are the last nun in North America. There are only two of us left in the Latin Americas.”
“We had four in Africa,” Agnes said, tears brimming on her eyes. “But two Warlocks appeared in the Congo, fighting for control over the jungle, and we lost two sisters exorcising them over the weekend. And I hear the Mother Superior herself had to deal with a Warlock in Paris.”
The Mother Superior was a legend. Supposedly, she was over a thousand years old and lived in the Motherhouse in Rennes-le-Château, France. Sister Louise told me whispered stories of the Mother Superior exorcisms from Vlad Tepesh to Rasputin and many other terrible men and women in between.
A sly smile appeared on Agnes’s face and she reached out and stroked my arm. “So, Theodora, tell us about this Curtis you’ve been indulging.”
A flush suffused my face. When we were given our Ecstasy, blanket indulgences were issued by the pope, forgiving any sin we may commit. Most nuns, at least this is what Sister Louise told me, used the opportunity to sin as much as possible before she once again must abstain.
“He has girth,” I said with a smile, remembering how good his cock felt stretching my pussy as he rode me last night. “I came twice with him last night, and once more this morning.”
“You naughty girl,” Agnes said with a twinkle. She glanced at Isabella. “Did you have time to indulge?”
Isabella gave a throaty laugh. “I live in a remote village in Guatemala. Many hours drive to the airport. This young buck, Miguel, drove me to the airport. I had my eye on him for several months, praying for a mission so I might indulge with him.” A smile appeared on her face. “On the drive to the airport, three times we stopped so he could ravish me.”
“What about you, Anges? Who did you fuck?” I asked.
Her grin turned naughty. “In Brussels I fucked this delightful young man in the airport restroom during my layover. And then in the flight into Seattle from Chicago, I flirted with this beautiful flight attendant named Sarai. She had silky, dusky skin and the most beautiful lips. A good Muslim girl she claimed, but when we arrived in Seattle, that good Muslim girl made me howl in pleasure in the women’s bathroom.”
We all giggled at that. But my joy did not last long, Ramiel’s words echoed in my mind. Soldiers are needed now. Four and four and four. My grin faded and I sighed and asked, “Where do we find four soldiers?” I asked.
“Providence,” Agnes yawned, and lay back on the bed. The TV turned on. “Sorry, I sat on the remote.”
“…go live to Sheriff Erkart about to give a press conference on the growing Mark Glassner scandal admits the SWAT unit of the Pierce County Sheriffs Department,” the anchor on the television said.
I sat up and my fellow nuns stared at the TV. Providence, I thought with a smile.
The camera cut to a room with a podium festooned with microphones. The seal of Pierce County Sheriff department hung behind the podium and a tall, distinguished looking man with black hair graying at the temples, stepped up to the podium. Cameras flashed in the room as he settled himself at the podium.
“Good evening,” the Sheriff greeted, sadly. “It is with a heavy heart that I am here today. An entire squad of the my SWAT unit, eleven men and one woman, have disgraced themselves and betrayed the public’s trusted in my Sheriff Department. As you all know, on Thursday, June 13th at approximately 4:10 AM, the FBI, with support from this SWAT unit, raided Mark Glassner’s house. As recent photos have shown, my officers have behaved disgracefully and will be suspended with pay until the State Patrol has finished their investigation.”
“God has provided,” Agnes breathed.
“Amen,” Isabella finished.
A smile crept up on my face. Mark Glassner enthralled an entire unit of SWAT. Ramiel had explained the spell Mark used to bound his Thralls and made them immune to our powers. The spell had to be performed individually by the Warlock. It seemed Providence was telling us that there were twelve, very dangerous Thralls out there lying loose just waiting for my Sisters and I to collect them.
“Amen,” I whispered as hope soared within me.
A soft snore broke my reverie and I giggled. Sister Agnes was sleeping on her side. She said it took her nearly twenty-four hours of travel to reach Seattle from Africa. The poor thing must be so tired.
“Isn’t she so beautiful,” Isabella whispered, her hand resting on my thigh. Her hand was warm and soft and a delicious thrill went through my body ending at my moistening snatch. Isabella turned to look at me, a smile playing on her brown face. “You are beautiful, too, Theodora,” she whispered in a Spanish lilt and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
Isabella’s lips were full and moist and looked so kissable as her face drew closer and closer to mine. Her lips were soft as well and I could taste cherry lip gloss as I sucked on her lower lip. Her hand was sliding up my thigh, underneath my skirt, sliding closer and closer to my moistening cunt. I placed my hand on her silky leg, squeezing her thigh and reaching for the source of heat between her legs.
Her panties felt like satin and I rubbed the crotch of her panties and could feel the heat of her cunt. I pushed the panties up into the groove of her slit, feeling her moisture slowly seep through the satin fabric and coating my fingers with her sticky arousal. I moaned into Isabella’s mouth as her fingers gently caressed my lacy panties and shivered as she grazed my hard clit through the panties.
Isabella broke the kiss, licking her lips, and reached her other hand beneath my skirt and started tugging off my panties. I lifted my ass, allowing her to slip the panties down my leg. They were yellow and lacy, the gusset damp with my desire. Isabella sniffed the crotch, inhaling my spicy aroma and then she shoved my panties into my mouth with a naughty smile on her face.
“We do not want to wake Sister Agnes with your sweet moans,” she whispered with a naughty smile.
She pushed me back, spread my thighs and I moaned, the sound muffled by my panties, as she licked her gentle tongue through my slit. I could taste my flavor on my panties and it added to the excitement. Next to me, Sister Agnes snored softly, her pretty, coal-black face inches from my own. Isabella’s tongue was tasting me everywhere, sucking my labia into her mouth, flicking at my clit. Her fingers gently spread my labia open and then her tongue wiggled into my hole.
Oh god that felt so amazing. I gripped the green comforter and threw back my head as Sister Isabella pleasured my cunt. Oh, fuck her tongue felt so wonderful. I wanted to tell her just how much pleasure she was making me feel, but the panties stuffed in my mouth reduced me to grunts and moans. I was getting so close to cumming, my hips starting to writhe as my pleasure mounted. Her tongue was fucking in and out of my hole, her nose rubbing gently against my clit, every brush bringing me closer and closer until I screamed into my panties as I flooded Isabella’s face.
Isabella gave my cunt a last lick and then she was moving down, kissing my taint, lifting up my ass and sliding a pillow beneath me. Her breath was warm on my ass, and her fingers gently spread my asscheeks and I gasped into my panties as her tongue touched my puckered anus. A naughty thrill tingled through me as she tongued my ass.
Her tongue circled my asshole, and then pressed against the tight ring. Her tongue pressed and pressed and then pushed past the sphincter, wiggling inside my ass. I was moaning again into the panties, feeling a second orgasm building. Her fingers reached up and pinched my hard clit, rolling my small nub between her fingers, sending jolts of electricity throughout my writhing body.
Fuck, Isabella sure knew how to pleasure a woman. She was bringing me closer and closer to a second cum, and it was brewing up to be bigger than the last one. Her tongue was sliding in and out of my asshole, swirling around my tight anus. The naughty slut was making my ass and my cunt felt so amazing. That amazing feeling of release was building and building, sweet Jesus I was getting so close and then the delicious shudder, the muscles clenching in my ass and pussy, the electricity shooting through my body.
I was panting and Isabella was crawling up my body. She pulled my panties from my lips and then kissed me gently on the lips and I could taste the sour flavor of my ass. Then Isabella curled up against me, placed her head on my breast and fell asleep.
Three nuns, I thought as I cradled Isabella’s head to my chest. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I jogged down Shaw Road, Thursday morning, my mind kept drifting to the phone call from Willow yesterday and the explosive news she delivered. Karen was pregnant. By the demon Lilith, no less. Her baby was growing fast, almost a weeks growth in a day, according to Willow. The stress of the growing child had left Karen in such a weakened state, she was barely conscious half the time.
“We thought it best to abort the embryo,” Willow had explained, “and then Lilith appeared. She warned us that Karen’s life was tied to the child growing inside her. If the child died, so would Karen.”
It was fucking frustrating. There was nothing we could do. Since I made my Pact, I had never felt so helpless. Not even when Karen was atop me, trying to exorcise my powers. I was still able to struggle to summon Lilith. But there was absolutely nothing either Mary or I could do but wait for Karen to give birth and worry about what sort of problem the thing growing inside her would cause.
Last night, we sat for an hour with Karen and the one time she woke up she smiled at us before falling back unconscious. We instructed the hospital staff not to report her unusual pregnancy and would keep one of the sluts with her at all time. Anger was burning in my stomach as I watched my Karen lay so listless, all those machines attached to her body. Anger at Lilith and anger at myself for being so stupid.
That night, when Lilith offered to trade the secrets of magic for the simple price of fucking Karen, I didn’t even hesitate. What harm could there be in letting the demon fuck her? Lilith formed a cock from her clit and told me how she was just so horny. She hadn’t had a woman on her cock in centuries. I could understand that desperate need to get off in some girls snatch. All guys understood that. I didn’t even occur to me that Lilith might have some ulterior plan in mind when she fucked Karen.
But she was a demon and Mary and I had learned an important lesson. A demon never does anything unless it benefits them in someway. They’ll find a way to turn it to their advantage. Then why did the Devil give me the ability to summon Lilith in the first place. It wasn’t out of kindness or sense of fair play. From what Karen told me, Warlock hadn’t summoned demons or used magics in a thousand of years. The Devil wants something from me. He needs something that only I can do, something that only a Warlock give him. And the real question is, will it benefit me or bite me in the ass in the end like Lilith’s simple deal has become.
I was betting on it biting me in the ass.
When Mary and I were returning from the club we saw several moving trucks arriving. Our families were following our orders and moving in. We sent the sluts to go help out and my mom guilt tripped me into carrying boxes into her new house. Mary thought it would be funny to watch and make unhelpful comments until my mom thrust a box into her arms and Mary, with a frown, was guilted into helping out as easily as I was.
By noon, our families were moved in and we were all gathered back at the house to eat the delicious egg salad sandwiches Desiree made for lunch. The sandwiches were so good, I decided to forgive Desiree for getting out of carrying boxes with the rest of us.
“Sandy, Mark and I need you to come with us, this afternoon,” Mary told my mom as she wolfed down her sandwich. “We need to bond a few pilots.”
At three we had an appointment with the head of HR at Alaska Airlines to screen for our pilots. We bought a Gulfstream IV from this billionaire yesterday and Mary and I agreed having our pilots bound by the Zimmah spell is the safest course. That way we didn’t have to worry about a nun getting to our pilot and causing her to crash our plane with us in it.
“Oh, sure,” my mom answered. “I guess unpacking can wait.”
“Oh, we have plenty of time,” Betty said, patting my mom’s wrist fondly.
Betty was Mom’s…eh…girlfriend, I guess. I was having trouble wrapping my brain around my mom and Betty. For my entire life mom was a straitlaced Christian and it was surprising finding out she had been cheating on my dad with Betty Cooley for the last few years. And now that my dad was dead, and mom and Betty, with a little nudge from Mary, had moved in together.
“We should have a bar-ba-que,” Sean, my future father-in-law, suggested. “A nice, family get together once everyone gets settle in.” He had Felicity, the sex slave Mary gave him, dandled on his knee. Felicity was dressed in the sluttiest, naughty schoolgirl outfit I had ever seen. Sean was a high school teacher and it looked like he was working through all those years of not molesting his students with Felicity.
“Ohh, that sounds fun,” Missy chimed in. Missy was Mary’s little sister, still in High School, who looked almost the spitting image of Mary. The main difference, other than age, was Missy’s light, strawberry-blonde hair versus Mary’s darker, auburn hair.
“Monday?” I asked Mary, thinking what we might have plans for that day.
“You did schedule those tryouts for Monday, right?” Mary asked me. After I we got home from the hospital last night, I spent two hours calling police agencies in King and Thurston County to arrange for a new pool of women to draw more bodyguards from. With our families to protect and a nun lurking about, I wanted more protection.
“Yeah, we can have the bar-ba-que at Sparks Stadium and everyone can help us evaluate some new bodyguards,” I said nodding.
“Sure, sounds fun,” George said. George was Shannon’s boyfriend.
Shannon laughed, tossing about her fiery red hair and tickled her boyfriend. “Someone just once to fuck some pretty girls.”
“Well, there is one matter that we need to attend to,” Mary said. “Mark and I have powerful enemies and they would use our loved ones against us.”
Antsy, my little sister snorted. “Tell me about it,” she muttered. The nuns had attacked us through Antsy, trying to break up Mary and myself.
“Yes, that’s why we need to protect you with the Bond of Zimmah,” Mary finished.
The family trooped upstairs and crowded into our bedroom. There was my mom, her girlfriend Betty, and their sex slave, Joy. And Antsy and her sex slave, Via. Then Mary’s family dwarfed mine. Her dad and his sex slave. Her older sister Shannon and her boyfriend, and their sex slave, Starla. And little Missy, her boyfriend Damien, and their two sex slaves Dawn and Mrs. Corra. Mrs. Corra was Damien’s teacher before I made her Damien’s sex slave, and yet he still called her Mrs. Corra while he bossed her around.
Mary and Mom stripped naked and lay side-by-side on the bed, both beautiful. Mary was the beauty of youth, perky breasts and a fresh face. Mom was a hot MILF at forty-three. She possessed the ripened beauty of maturity, her body still tight as an eighteen year old’s from her daily exercise, her breasts still lovely and her face was sexy and confident.
I crawled onto my mom, her arms outstretched. “My boy’s all grown up,” she smiled, pulling me down into her embrace, her hands gripping my cock and guiding it to her cunt.
Next to us, Sean was crawling over his daughter’s body. “You are so beautiful, Mary,” he whispered.
“Oh, daddy!” Mary smiled, pulling him down and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Hmm, stick that hard cock inside your sweet daughter’s cunt!”
I was inside my mom’s cunt, fucking my cock in and out of her as her lips captured mine in a kiss. I roamed up her body with my hands, finding her breasts and giving them a squeeze. Her nipples were hard as I rubbed my hand over them. My mom’s hips rose up to meet my thrusts, grinding her clit into my pubic bone. She felt so amazing. This was the cunt that I came from, I thought. And that wicked thought made the sex more thrilling.
“You like my cunt, daddy?” Mary cooed. She sounded like a little girl with her father, asking him if liked her dress.
“Yeah, Mary,” he groaned as he plowed into her cunt. “You feel so tight.”
“Does it feel familiar?” Mary asked with a wicked grin. “Does it feel like the cunt that rode your cock when you were blindfolded on Monday?”
Sean groaned. “That was you? Oh, man that was amazing.”
“As amazing as this?” Mary asked. Her dad moaned loudly. I wasn’t sure what Mary did but her dad seemed to find it amazing.
The entire situation was too exciting for me to last long. Our families were watching us fuck our parents. My thrust were becoming frantic. “Oh God, Mom. You feel so good. I’m…ohhh fuck…I’m gonna cum!”
“Give it to me, Mark!” my mom moaned like a wanton hooker.
I pounded her cunt harder, my balls tightening and then I was groaning and my cum was flooding into my mom’s cunt. Her pussy contracted about my cock and she gasped as her orgasm swept over her. I collapsed atop her, enjoying the feel of her cunt as my cock soften, the warmth of her body as it pressed beneath me. I captured her lips in a kiss, then turned to watch Mary getting fucked by her father.
Mary looked over at me, a smile on her face. Her dad was grunting atop her, fucking her faster and faster. He raised up on his arms, slamming into my fiancee’s cunt and then his body tensed and he moaned as he flooded his sweet daughter’s pussy. Mary trembled beneath him, her breasts heaving as he came in her sweet pussy.
I rolled off my mom and Sean rolled off his daughter. Both women laid there, cum oozing out of their freshly fucked pussies. Mary and I agreed to bond the each other’s families. We didn’t want to make slaves of our families, just to protect them, so we told our families they could ignore our orders. It let our loved ones have their free will.
Shannon was first, crawling between my mother’s legs and taking a swipe of my mom’s pussy juices and my cum. I muttered, “Zimmah,” and felt the energy bind Shannon to me.
Antsy crawled beneath Mary’s legs and licked through my fiancee’s cunt, gathering a thick globe of incestuous cum and pussy juices. “Zimmah,” Mary intoned and I watched the shudder pass between the two women.
One by one, our family members were bonded. Betty and my mom by Mary, and Mary’s family by me. Poor Sean, he didn’t relish having to taste my cum, no matter how beautiful the cunt that contained it. And Damien just closed his eyes, took the smallest lick he could, then flew away, spitting. Then Missy followed, and then Dawn, Mrs. Corra, and Starla. Until, only George remained, and everyone turned to him.
“Shannon,” George said. “Before I really become part of this family I want to ask you a question.”
“Okay?” Shannon said, a stunned, hopeful, disbelieving smile playing on her lips, her mouth falling open and her eyes watering with emotion. I remembered that same look on Mary’s face when I proposed to her.
George fell to his knees, grasped her hand and kissed her palm. “Shannon, these last two years have been the happiest of my life. I love you, Shannon. You are my world. The kindest, sweetest soul I ever met. Will…” George’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Shannon whispered, tears running out of her eyes. “Oh, yes, yes, yes!”
George pulled out a rose gold ring set with a large diamond. Smaller diamonds were sat in the band. Shannon’s hand trembled as George slid the ring on her finger. When he stood up she threw her arms around him and the pair kissed. The women in the room were all misty eyed. When George broke the kiss, he crawled between my mom’s legs and didn’t hesitate as he took his lick.
As Mary and I dressed for our appointment, we watched as an impromptu family orgy began. It all started when Missy pressed herself up against her dad, saying, “Is it my turn to get fucked?” with a huge, impish grin on her face.
“But…” Sean spluttered. Sean was under my orders to be available to fuck Mary for the Zimmah spell and was resistant to fucking his youngest daughter. But Missy was a hundred pounds of teenage enthusiasm and, with her sex slave Dawn’s help, pushed Sean back onto the bed. She straddled her dad, guiding his hard cock to her tight, teenage cunt, and started riding him, using all the technique I taught her on pleasing a man.
George and Shannon slipped out onto our private balcony and the newly engaged couple were passionately fucking on our love seat. Betty and Antsy were on the bed making out next to Sean and Missy while my mom watch fondly. Damien had his Mrs. Corra’s big tits about his cock as he watched his girlfriend, Missy, ride her dad. Via, Joy, and Starla slipped into a daisy chain on the floor, each slut devouring the other’s cunts.
I sighed as we left. “There will be other orgies,” Mary consoled, pressing up against me.
“I haven’t fucked any of their sex slaves,” I moaned. “Well, I fucked Felicity, but not the other five.”
“Plenty of time for that, Mark,” Mary chided, prodding me down the stairs. “But we have the meeting with the architects and your pilot interview. I’m sure you’ll find some pretty new lady for you to fuck.”
I grinned, Mary always found the bright side of a situation. “Well, that’s the plan.”
Before we went up to SeaTac to Alaska Airlines headquarters, we had a meeting with an architect to design our mansion. Mary had been speaking to them on the phone for the last week, hammering out the specifications, and the architects had their first conceptions ready. They did some great work, designing a large, central mansion and five, smaller guest houses for our families to live in at the back of the property. There was also a stable, Mary wanted to have horses, and a pool, and extensive landscaping. Mary gave a few brief corrections and the architects would start drawing up the plans. Hopefully, in a month, we could start breaking ground on construction.
The Alaska Airlines offices were located on International Boulevard south of the SeaTac airport. I parked the Mustang and had 01 and 09, our bodyguard’s for the trip, wait in 01’s white State Patrol car. I took Mary’s arm and my mom followed us in. The inside was well furnished, the Eskimo face logo of Alaska Airlines embossed on the lobby floor and a few potted plants dotted the corners.
“How can I help you, sir?” the receptionist, a stout, middle-aged woman named Angela, asked.
“Yes, we’re here to see Mr. Ledford,” I said. “I’m Mark Glassner.”
The receptionist called upstairs and sent us on own. “Floor four, go left from the elevator. You can’t miss his office.”
“Remember the last elevator we rode?” Mary asked with a sly smile as I pushed he fourth floor button.
“No elevator slut this time,” I laughed. That’s how we met Violet, one of our sluts. I took her virginity in the hotel elevator of the Four Seasons, I believe, up in Seattle.
My mom looked at me, a frown across her beautiful face. “What?”
“It’s nothing, Sandy,” Mary assured her. “Just an inside joke.”
“Oh, sure,” Sandy said with a nod.
The elevator dinged and we got out on the fourth floor. Monroe Ledford’s office was down a hallway, through an open area full of cubicles, against the west wall of the building. He had a mousy looking woman for a secretary with the unusual name of Richmal. “He’s expecting you, Mr. Glassner.”
“Richmal, just ignore any strange sounds you hear, okay,” Mary said with a friendly smile.
“Oh, sure, miss,” Richmal squeaked.
Monroe had a spacious office, a large mahogany desk, and a wall covered in filing cabinets. Seven women dressed in blue pilot’s jackets and slacks were huddled in the corner talking to each other and gave us curious stares when we entered. Monroe scurried out from behind his desk, a heavyset man in an expensive looking suit. His face was round, fat hanging from beneath his chins, and large, black glasses dominated his face.
“Good to meet you in person, Mr. Glassner,” Monroe greeted. “I gathered the candidates just like you asked, sir.”
“Thank you, you can wait at your secretary’s desk and don’t come in here until we leave,” I told him, shaking his moist hand.
“Ah, of course, sir,” Monroe laughed. “Well, they are all excellent pilots and you will not be disappointed with whomever you choose.”
“All right, ladies, line up,” Mary said, brusquely.
My mom, looking a little out of sorts, set down at the table. “You okay, mom,” I asked as Mary got the pilots lined up.
“It’s just…overwhelming how the two of you just take command of situation,” Mom admitted. “And you’re going to, what…screw these women?”
I shrugged. “Not all of them,” I admitted. Several of the women were just not pretty enough. Sure they were handsome women, but Mary and I had our standards. “They’ll enjoy themselves, Mom. So just relax, okay?”
She sighed. “Okay, Mark.” She squirmed in her seat. “Geezs, I’m turning into such a hussy,” she muttered, eying the women.
“Maybe, mom,” I told her, rubbing her shoulder. “But it’s a lot of fun, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin.
My mom laughed and kissed the back of my hand. “Your fiancee’s going to start without you,” Mom pointed out.
I looked up to the two handsome women walking out the door. “All right, disrobe,” Mary ordered the remaining five. “And be prepared to get fucked. You all want to please us and be chosen to be as one of our pilots.” I stepped up next to her and she whispered, “Is everything alright with your mom?”
“Yeah, Mom is just not used to all this,” I answered.
The pilots were disrobing. All of them wore the most boring underwear, I was disappointed to learn. We sent two more packing; one had an ugly Caesarean scar and the other’s ass was covered in cellulite and looked as wrinkled as a prune. The remaining three were gorgeous women in their late twenties and early thirties.
Joslyn was a black-haired woman, willowy, with dark, Mediterranean complexion and brilliant green eyes. She had a nice set of round breasts topped with dusky nipples. Her belly buttoned was pierced with a small, golden charm set with a ruby and her pussy was shaved, revealing fat, dark pussy lips.
Duana was another black-haired woman, tall with Nordic cheekbones. Her breasts were small and perky and she had a thick, black bush between her legs. Her legs were toned and tanned from sunbathing, there were patches of pale flesh around her breasts and her crotch from her bikini.
Lynda was a strawberry-blonde with deep, blue eyes. She was short and curvy, with large, pillowy breasts with some of the biggest, fattest nipples I had ever seen, each pierced with a thick, gold ring. Her pussy was shaved, save for a triangular patch of reddish hair above her clit.
I walked over and hefted Lynda’s large breast, feeling the weight and gave her nipple piercing a tug bring a soft gasp to Lynda’s mouth. Mary was running her fingers through Duana’s thick bush, the tall woman shuddering as Mary must have found her clit or maybe her wet hole. Joslyn was looking a little lonely and so was my mom, so I pulled her to me and whispered in her ear.
Joslyn swayed back to my mom. Mom swallowed, licking her lips as the dusky beauty reached her and sat on her lap. “I…I have a girlfriend,” my mom protested, as Joslyn kissed at her throat.
“It’s just sex, Mom,” I said, pushing Lynda down to her knees. “I have a girlfriend, too.”
Mary giggled as Duana was unbuttoning her blouse, exposing Mary’s freckled breasts. The tall pilot sucked Mary’s nipple into her lips. “Betty knows you love her, that’s all that matters, Sandy. Everything else is just fun.”
My zipper rasped down and eager hands reached into my pants, pushing down my boxers, to find my hardening cock. Mom relaxed and was kissing Joslyn, her hands sliding up to cup the dusky woman’s breast and rolling her dark nipples between her fingers while Joslyn purred in pleasure. Lynda’s mouth engulfed my cock, sucking my dick until I was fully hard in her mouth. I looked down at her pillowy tits and just had to feel those about my cock.
I pulled my cock from her mouth, grabbed the fat ring pierced through her left nipple and pulled Lynda to her feet and led her over to a chair and set down. “You ever given a guy a titty fuck?” I asked her.
She smiled wickedly. “A few.”
Lynda knelt down and placed her pillowy tits around my cock, squeezing them about my shaft and started to slide them up and down. Her gold rings piercing her nipples swung up and down, glinting in a shaft of sunlight that fell across her tits. Her blue eyes stared up at me, eager to please, and her strawberry-blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders, a splash of color against her pale skin.
Mary sat in the sit next to me, spreading her legs and cooing in pleasure as Duana dove into her cunt, licking stiffly at her pussy. “C’mon, slut, you can do better,” Mary complained. “Your a woman, just lick and touch me wherever you’d like to be touched down there.”
“Okay,” Duana murmured and spread Mary’s lips open and licked her tongue through Mary’s slit, sliding her tongue into Mary’s wet pussy. She swirled her tongue around the sucked Mary’s labia into her mouth, rolling the wrinkled lips between her lips as Mary moaned in appreciation.
“Getting better,” Mary encourage, then sighed in pleasure. “Definitely getting better.”
I glanced back to see my mom was sitting on the desk, her jeans pulled off, her firm ass flexing as she squirmed in pleasure. I guessed Joslyn must be going down on her. My mom pulled her loose, striped shirt over her head exposing her smooth back and white bra. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra. As the white material fell away, I could just see the slope of her right breast and the hint of her pink nipple.
“Ohh, that feels nice,” Mom moaned on Joslyn’s tongue. Her arms moved and I realized mom was playing with her breasts.
“How’s your titty fuck?” Mary asked with a smile.
“Nice,” I told her. Lynda’s tits felt amazing on my cock as she formed a tight tunnel between her soft tits. I started fucking my hips up, rubbing my cock faster through the valley of her breasts. Mary’s eyes were fixed on my cock, the head would appear up from between her tits then disappear back down. Pre-cum glistening on the tip, smearing on Lynda’s melons.
“Is Duana giving you good head?” I asked.
Mary rolled her eyes. “She’s getting better! She…ohhh, yeah. She’s definitely getting better,” Mary purred.
“Oh, man!” gasped Mom. “Oh, Mark, her tongue feels so amazing. I can’t wait to try some of what she’s doing to my pussy on Betty when I get home! Oh, wow! Mmmhh, oh crap! Yes, yes, oh yes!”
Lynda started licking my cock head when it got close to her lips, her tongue roughly sliding across the tip sending a shudder of pleasure through my body. Another lick, another shudder, and then my cock was back in the pillowy softness of her breasts and then was back out and another delicious lick, another delicious shudder. “Fuck that’s amazing!” I gasped. “Keep licking, slut!”
Lynda giggled. “Glad you…” lick, “…like it!”
Mary was panting next to me, grinding her cunt into Duana’s face. “Oh yes, fucking suck my clit, whore! Oh, fuck! Oh fucking shit! Here it comes, slut! Drink my cum!”
My mom sat in the chair on the other side of me, naked and flushed. Her eyes focused on my cock appearing and disappearing between Lynda’s breasts. I was getting closer and closer to cumming. My balls were so close to flooding Lynda’s breasts with my creamy spunk. Just a few more licks and…I groaned, my face clenched as I spilled onto her tits.
“Fuck, that was nice!” I moaned.
Lynda was panting, to, white cum coating her face and tits. She released her breasts and my cock slid out of her tight embrace. Mary knelt down and licked a line of my cum up Lynda’s tit. Then she looked at my mom, hefted Lynda’s other, cum covered tit invitingly. My mom licked her lips and then knelt down and licked my cum up Lynda’s breast, up to her neck and then she was kissing Lynda on the lips.
My cock was achingly hard watching my mom and my fiancee lick my cum off this woman. They were pressing her down onto her back, their tongues devouring my cum. Mary licked her way up to Lynda’s face as Mom licked back down to her breasts, sucking a fat nipple and gold ring into her mouth as Mary kissed Lynda on the lips. Then Mary was straddling her face as Mom licked lower and lower, down to Lynda’s shaved cunt.
“Duana, lick my mom’s cunt,” I ordered and then I grabbed willowy Joslyn and bent her over the desk.
Joslyn’s cunt was shaved bare, her labia large and engorged and felt amazing as I rubbed the head of my cock on them before I found her hot, wet hole and slid inside her, groaning as her velvet cunt swallowed my cock.
“Ohh, that feels great,” Joslyn moaned. “Umm, you got a nice feeling cock, stud.”
“You got a nice feeling cunt,” I moaned, pulling back and thrusting in again and again. “Fucking wet and tight, just the way I like my pussy!”
“Then give me a good fucking, lover!” Joslyn purred. “I could use a nice cum! Haven’t had one yet, today!”
“You have to cum everyday, slut?” I asked.
“If not, then the day was wasted.” I liked her philosophy. If I haven’t came a dozen times in a day, it was definitely wasted. “I need a nice, fat cock to stretch my poor little pussy until I explode!” she panted.
I started thrusting faster and faster, enjoying her wet depths. I glanced behind me, Mary was riding Lynda’s face and my mom was devouring Lynda’s cunt. Duana knelt behind my mom and started fingering her cunt. Duana bent her head down, planting her face between my mom’s ass cheeks and began to rim Mom’s ass. What a naughty slut.
“I’m going to pee in your mouth, and you’re going to love it, right slut?” Mary asked.
“Oh yes,” moaned Lynda. “I’ve masturbated so many times to water sports vids! Fill my mouth with your delicious pee.”
Mary sighed as her urine splashed into Lynda’s mouth, the pilot drinking her piss eagerly. I slammed into Joslyn’s cunt faster and faster as I watched my fiancee piss into another woman’s mouth. When Mary finished pissing, she moaned as Lynda licked her pussy clean, her tongue digging through Mary’s slit. Lynda was moaning beneath Mary, her body writhing and fresh cunt juices flooded my mom’s mouth as she came.
My mom drank all of Lynda’s juices and then shuddered on Duana’s tongue. “Yes, oh yes, I’m cumming! Umm, that feels so amazing!” Mom turned around, stroking Duana’s face. “Oh, thank you for that amazing orgasm.”
I came in Joslyn’s cunt as I watched my mom french kiss Duana, her face sticky with Lynda’s juices. Mary’s ass jiggled beneath her bunched up skirt as she ground her pussy on Lynda’s face, her unbuttoned blouse slid off her right shoulder, exposing her pale, freckled shoulder. Her auburn hair, tied in a ponytail, swayed about as she tossed her head about, her moans of pleasure growing louder and louder.
My mom’s ass was pointing at me, as tight as any teenagers, her hairy bush matted with desire, her pussy pink and swollen with pleasure. I knelt behind her, running my hands about her firm cheeks. Mom broke her kiss with Duana and glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes falling onto my hard cock.
“You’re so beautiful, Mom,” I murmured.
“Prettier than your fiancee?” my mom asked with a grin.
“A close second, Mom.” My cock was poking at her tight ass, sliding down, leaving a streak of pre-cum across her firm cheeks and down through her silky hair. I found her hot, wet hole, rubbing my cock’s head on her swollen labia, enjoying the feel of her silky nether lips.
“Umm, good answer, son,” Mom groaned as my cock entered her slowly.
“He’s the best!” moaned Mary. “Umm, this slut sure knows her way around a snatch! You keep doing that and…ohhh that’s nice! Fuck, fuck, yes! That’s it! Oh, God, I’m cumming! You nasty, fucking slut! Ohh, that was nice.”
“Thank you for fulfilling my fantasy,” moaned Lynda as Mary crawled off of her.
Mary pressed her body against my back, hugging me from behind as I fucked my mother. Her breasts were soft pillows topped with her hard nipples, her silky bush tickled my ass. Her arms wrapped around my waist and her lips were wet on my neck.
“Who are you thinking of keeping for our pilots?” she whispered into my ear.
“Lynda for sure,” I moaned. “Those fucking nipple rings.”
Mary laughed. “I love a slut that drinks my piss.”
“Joslyn is the prettiest,” my mom moaned, thrusting her hips back into my cock. With Mary pressed behind me, I couldn’t fuck Mom as hard I liked, but goddamn my mom knew how to work her hips to get a man off.
Joslyn was beautiful, with her dusky, Mediterranean skin her brilliant green eyes. “She was a great fuck,” I pointed out.
Mary nipped at my ear. “Joslyn and Lynda then.”
“Yeah,” I panted. “Mmh, Mom, you know how to fuck!”
Mom laughed, a rich throaty laugh, slamming her ass back into me. “You’re not to bad yourself. Umm, my baby boy grew up to have a nice cock!”
“Cum in your slutty mom’s pussy,” Mary whispered into my ear. “Fill her up with delicious spunk.”
“Give me your cum, Mark!” Mom moaned. “Fill your mommy’s womb with your sperm. It’s so wonderful to have you back inside me! Oh, crap! Crap!”
My balls were tightening, my orgasm was building. I felt Mom’s cunt spasm on my cock as she came, slamming her ass back into me and I groaned, “Fuck, that feels so amazing, Mom! Oh, fuck! Here it fucking cums!” My balls unloaded, flooding the very pussy that made me with a flood of cum. Mom slumped forward, rolling onto her back, her legs spread obscenely open, my cum oozing out and matting her brown fur.
“Joslyn and Lynda, you’re going to be our pilots,” I ordered. “You’ll live at the hanger, stay within fifteen minutes of the plane at all times. You will love Mary and myself as your masters, and love each other. Duana, never speak of this to anyone, you can get dressed and go.”
Joslyn moved over to Lynda and stroked her face. “I never noticed how beautiful you are,” she whispered and kissed Lynda with passion.
“Ladies,” I barked, interrupting their kiss, “get over her and take a lick from my mom’s cunt.” Lynda was first, bending down and taking a single lick as I uttered, “Zimmah,” and felt the energy run from my mom into Lynda and myself, binding Lynda’s to me permanently. Lynda stared at me in awe as Joslyn took her place and took her lick and was bound to me.
“You two, go home gather your stuff and head to Thun Field, hanger 18,” I told her and pulled a pair of keys out of my pocket, tossing it to them. “The Gulfstream has already arrived. From now on, you’ll live in the plane. There’s a comfy bed for the two of you too enjoy, internet, satellite TV. Just remember, always be within fifteen minutes of the plane.”
“Yes, Master,” Lynda nodded and then gave Joslyn a wicked smile. “A bed to share, huh? I’m sure we can find some stimulating way to pass the time.”
My phone rang and I fished it out of my pocket, glancing at the caller ID. “You found Brandon?” I asked.
“I found out where he went,” Doug Allard answered. Doug was a P.I. hired by Brandon Fitzsimmons to spy on us, causing all sorts of problems when Brandon sent the media the results of his spying. We caught Doug and turned him to our side and sent him after Brandon. “He flew from San Francisco to London and from there he caught a plane to Toulouse, France. He landed in Frances about two hours ago.”
“What’s in France?” I asked aloud, frowning.
“The book,” Mary grasped. “One of the books is in France.”
My stomach sank. Who knew what sort of problems Brandon having the book would cause. “Doug, Brandon’s headed for Rennes-le-Château, the Motherhouse of an order of nuns. The Order of Mary Magdalena. You must stop him from getting a book, the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. Do whatever it takes to stop him.”
“Okay, Mr. Glassner.”
I wanted to go after Brandon myself. But he was going into the heart of the lion’s den, the Motherhouse of the Nuns. Who knew how many of those bitches would be there. It was far too dangerous for either Mary or myself to go anywhere near Rennes-le-Château.
“Mary, where was that third book at?”
“Um, with some noble. An Altgrave, I think he was called.” She grabbed her phone. “In Cologne, Germany.”
“I need to speak with him, make sure he understands not to let Brandon so much as see that book.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Kaeden,” Illness, the barkeep at the Lucky Cowgirl greeted me as I sidled up to the bar.
Illness wasn’t the name he was born with, just the name everyone called him. “Because I’m so Ill, man, you know, cool,” he would say in his gravely, burnt-out voice, sounding like an aging rocker who partied to hard in his twenties and lived to regret it.
“A pint of Sam Adams,” I said, sighing as I sat down on the barstool.
“You one of the…” He left the end of his question hanging. The empty look in my eyes answered his question. “Rough, man. Real rough.” He finished filling the pint and set it down in front of me. “So, did it really happen?”
I shrugged. My PBA rep told me not to talk about it. Fuck, I’m not even sure what really happened. One minute, I was storming this Mark Glassner house on loan to the FBI, and the next thing I knew Mark Glassner was leading me and rest of my SWAT unit out of the house. And then this fine-ass girl, naked, with bubble-gum pink hair and this voluptuous Latina were leading me upstairs and fucked my brain out.
And now I was probably out of a job. And maybe facing prison time. Accepting sexual favors as a bribe, Internal Affairs called it. So here I was, back at the Lucky Cowgirl, to drown my sorrows. I hadn’t been in for two weeks and I was hoping to get lucky like the last time I was here, to maybe take my mind off my problems with some female companionship. Hell, maybe that gal would be back.
Nearly two weeks ago, on a Friday, this vivacious blonde name Erin had waltzed in, flirting outrageously with me and a few of my drinking buddies. We were drawn to her, she was just so fucking sexy in her tight jeans and revealing top. And she just ate our attention, touching us, laughing at our bad jokes. I grew more and more bold and soon it was just me and her at the bar and she let my hands roam everywhere. When I whispered in her ear that I wanted to fuck her brains out. She laughed and suggested the bathroom. I gave her a good fucking all while this creep listened to us from the next stall.
And then she asked me to go get some drinks and I waited at the bar while she cleaned herself up. And waited, figuring she had to reapply her make-up. You know women. When she did emerge, she was with this other guy, her arm wrapped around him, clinging tightly to him. They clearly knew each other, her boyfriend maybe and I just stood at the bar like an idiot realizing that the guy must have been the creep in the next stall. They were like playing at cheating or something. It was straight out of letters to Penthouse.
After the day I had, I wouldn’t mind banging Erin again. Her guy could watch for all I cared. I just needed something nice to happen to me, today. I just needed something pleasant to help me forget what a shithole my life just became. All the hard work, all the sacrifices to become a SWAT officer. It cost me my marriage to Sally and a few girlfriends since. All of it flushed down the shitter and I couldn’t even begin to understand why any of us did it.
“Why so down, handsome?” a tall, African American woman asked, sitting on the barstool next to me. Her accent was strange, like she was an actual African, from Nigeria or something. She was beautiful, young, with coal-black skin and short, curly hair. Her lips were big and smiling beautifully.
I snorted. “I’m in a lot of trouble.”
“Oh, how sad,” she consoled, placing her hand on my arm, stroking me gently. “Maybe I could make it all better.”
“Oh, how?” I asked, eying her up and down. She was fucking gorgeous.
She smiled promisingly. “What are you drinking?”
“Sam Adams.”
“Buy me one, and we’ll see if I can’t make you forget all about your problems,” she promised, her fingers running up my arm to my biceps. “Mmhh, you work out. I love a man with big muscles.”
“I’m a SWAT officer,” I told her. Some women got off on banging cops, badge bunnies we called them. And the way this woman’s eyes lit up, she was definitely a badge bunny.
“How exciting,” she purred. Illness set a pint before her and she took a deep gulp. “It must be very stressful, all that danger.”
“Oh, very stressful,” I said with a shrug. “But, I live for the danger.” I used that BS on so many ladies, they lapped it up.
Her laugh was throaty and exciting. “And how do you relieve all that stress. I bet it just gets bottled up inside you, begging to be released.”
“Oh, I could think of a few ways to relive the pressure,” I smiled.
“Your hand, non?” she asked archly.
I laughed, it felt good to laugh. “Sure, but there are definitely more pleasant ways to relieve the pressure.” I took a drink of my beer. “Of course, they require someone’s assistance.”
She sipped her beer, her pink tongue licking foam off her upper lip. “I have been told I am very skilled at relieving stress.”
My cock was rock hard in my pants. God, I loved this bar. I had never met a girl as easy as Erin, but this African chick was giving that slut Erin a run for her money. Well, it worked last time, so I leaned over and whispered, “I want to fuck your brains out. Right now.”
She stood up, her smile eager, and took my hand. She was aggressive as she pulled me across the bar to the men’s room and pulled me inside. She took me to the last stall. Memories of Erin bent over the toilet as I fucked her from behind flashed in my mind. Would this mysterious Black woman’s cunt feel as good as Erin’s had.
Christ I didn’t even know her name.
But that didn’t matter as she kissed me as soon as we were in the stall, my hands reaching down and knead her ass through her short skirt. I lifted the skirt up and she wasn’t wearing any panties, the naughty little slut. Her tongue was fierce as she frenched me, aggressively exploring my mouth as her hands fumbled at my belt. She pulled my cock out, stroked it a few times then broke the kiss. I was panting hard as she pulled her dress over her head, exposing her lithe, coal-black body. She took her fingers, slid them between her black breasts, down to her black bush and shoved them up inside her, coating them with her juices.
“See how wet I am for you,” she moaned. “Fuck me!”
I didn’t need to be told twice and I pinned her against the side of the stall, her legs wrapping about my waist as I plunged into her Black pussy. She moaned as I fucked her hard, pounding away at her cunt. I needed this. I needed to forget my problems. All that mattered right now was how amazing her cunt felt on my cock as I fucked her tight, wet depths.
“Fuck your tight, slut,” I moaned. Any girl as easy as her, badge bunny or not, was a slut. “Love how you feel on me.”
“Umm, your cock is stirring me up,” she moaned. “Umm, spear me, stud! Ohh, I love having a nice shaft spearing inside me!”
Her hips were fucking me back, matching the furious rhythm. I needed to cum so bad. I didn’t care if she came, I just needed to feel that sweet release as I spilled inside her. She was so tight, my cock felt like it was in a vice, trying to squeeze out my cum. I was getting closer and closer to cumming inside her.
“Yes, yes, oh God I’m gonna cum!” I moaned. Her legs were wrapped so tightly about me I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to. I slammed once more into her and felt that shuddering release as my cum spilled into her.
Her finger was on my forehead, drawing with her sticky finger as she whispered, “Shama,” into my ear and everything went still. I stared blankly at the woman and she smiled in satisfaction. All that mattered to me was doing exactly what this woman told me too.
“Good,” she muttered, pushing me back, my cock pulling out of her. “I am Sister Agnes.” I nodded my head as she gave me my instructions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Drunken Pugilist may be the emptiest bar I had ever seen at happy hour. One old man sipped a pint at the bar while a board barkeep was watching the Mariners play the Angels. A fond smile crossed my face as I remembered Sean, my ex-husband, getting so excited during their ’95 season and how crushed he had been when the Mariners lost to the Indians and ended the Mariners World Series hopes. Mary was only one, then, and Missy wasn’t even a thought, yet.
Focus, Theodora, I told myself. Kurt stole your family from you, no use dwelling on that, now. You need to stop this Mark from destroying other families.
Sister Isabella followed me in. We let Providence guide us. Each of us opened the phone book, to the listing of bars, figuring guys as in trouble as these SWAT officer were would be drowning their sorrows. So we closed our eyes and jabbed our fingers down on the page. Isabella and I both got the Drunken Pugilist and Sister Agnes chose the Lucky Cowgirl.
I scanned the bar, the only other people were the two men sitting at a booth in the back, almost hidden in the shadows. I could see their auras, blacker than the shadows, the aura of a Thrall enslaved by a Warlock. It was clear that Mark had given the men an order that must have rewritten parts of their personality. Well, they were cops and I could imagine the sort of orders Mark must have given. “Let me commit crimes,” he probably ordered, or, “I can’t do anything wrong.”
Both guys looked miserable as we approached, a pitcher of beer sat between them and a few empty shot glasses. Both were fit, broad shoulder man. A swarthy Mexican with a thick mustache that ruined an otherwise handsome face, and a squashed-face white guy with a crew cut.
“Hi, boys,” Isabella purred with her sexy, Latina accent.
The Mexican’s eyes lit up when he saw us. “Hello, ladies,” he said with a smile, and motioned to the booth. “Care to cheer up a pair of cops having a bad day?”
“Christ, Riz, do you have to flirt with every chick?” the White guy asked.
“Hey man, why should I deprive my charm from any beautiful woman,” Riz protested. “Ignore him, he’s married and forgotten how to treat such heavenly creatures as yourselves.”
“Riz?” I asked, and then Isabella sat down next to him, leaving me with the White guy.
“Because his real name is pretty stupid,” the White guy said and a grin momentarily crossed his lips before his pain returned.
“Oroitz is a perfectly manly name,” Riz joked. “Besides, what kind of name is Duncan?”
“A Highlander,” I said with a smile. Everyone gave me a blank look. “Um, you know, ‘There can be only one.’ The Highlander?”
“Yeah,” Duncan muttered and took a swill of his beer. “The TV show, right. Not the movie.”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“So, what has you guys so down?” Isabella asked. “Women, right?” Both men grunted and Isabella smiled wickedly, leaning closer to Riz, reaching out to place her hand on his. “I hope not the same woman.”
“No, chiquita, not the same woman,” Riz admitted. “We’re both in the doghouse because of work. My girl broke up with me and Duncan’s wife kicked him out.”
“Oh that’s terrible,” I cooed, scooting up against Duncan. His eyes glanced at my cleavage and then a guilty flush suffused his face.
Across the table, Isabella was snuggling up to Riz, who put his arm around her. “Yeah, it’s terrible. Me and Alicia had been dating for weeks.”
“Well, maybe I can make you feel better,” Isabella said with a naughty smile. From how her arm was moving, she must be rubbing Riz’s leg. Or maybe even his crotch based on that the big grin filling Riz’s face. And then the two were talking in rapid Spanish. In my few weeks living in LA I picked up a smattering of Spanish, but I could not begin to follow their conversation.
Duncan just set like a log next to me, staring down into his beer. “What’s the problem,” I purred. “You might feel better if you tell me about it.”
A look of self-loathing crossed his face. “Sure,” he bitterly snorted, his voice a little slurred with drink. “Why the fuck not.” He down the rest of his beer. “You heard about the whole SWAT scandal?”
I nodded my head. That is why Providence led me to you. Mark had foolishly made a bunch of highly skilled men his Thralls and didn’t bother to protect them. “There are subtle signs,” Ramiel told me in my dreams, “to tell if the Bond of Zimmah chains a Thrall to the Warlock. The black aura will have the tiniest, barely perceptible, fringe of red about it. So minute, you have to know to look for it.” As far as I could tell, neither of these men were bound to Mark.
“Yeah, instead of arresting the people, the SWAT unit…eh…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding insensitive.
“Fucked them,” Duncan finished, biting his words.
“Excuse me, Vato,” Riz said as Isabella scooted out of the booth. “You understand, right?”
“Yeah,” Duncan grunted, staring at his drink as Riz and Isabella disappeared out a back door into the alley behind the bar. A ragged sob suddenly escaped Duncan’s lips. “I don’t know what happened. We burst into this bedroom and this naked guy, Mark, falls on the floor and he just tells us to stop pointing our guns and help him up. And we did. And then…this red-head just grabs me and Driscoll and takes us inside and has us fuck her. She treated us like shit, insulted us, and we just took it. And now it’s all over the news and…” He took a swig of beer. “Kathanne kicked me out. I never cheated on her, before. I don’t know what happened.”
Poor bastard. Another Warlock’s victim. I reached out and rubbed his leg and kissed him on the cheek. “You poor guy,” I murmured. “Let me take some of that hurt away.” I slid my hand up his jeans to his crotch, feeling his cock grow beneath my touch.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he suddenly protested. “I…”
I cut him off with a kiss as my fingers slid his zipper down, his mouth sour with beer. He was hard, despite his protests, and I stroked him to his full girth. His cock was warm and trembled with his heart beat against my palm. He was uncircumcised, and I could feel the head of his cock slide in and out of his foreskin, popping out like a cute little snake.
“Shh, don’t fight, Duncan,” I whispered as I lowered my head down to his crotch, disappearing beneath the booth’s table.
He moaned as my tongue licked around the head of his cock, salty with his pre-cum. I played with the tip, tracing about the edge of the gland, then sliding up and licking through his urethra, collecting a fresh drop of pre-cum. I slid a hand down between my legs and up into my cunt, getting my fingers sticky with my pussy juices so I would be ready to draw the Mark of Qayin on his forehead.
His hand caressed my head, fingers pulling through my brown hair. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “Sorry, Kathy.”
I cupped his balls as I swallowed his cock, sucking softly and playing with the sensitive head with my tongue. Then I slid down, slowly, until he brushed the back of my throat. I sealed my lips tight about his shaft as I rose up, sucking harder and Duncan moaned in appreciation. Up and down, my mouth filled with his cock.
“Jesus,” he moaned. “Fuck, you’re good. Christ, I don’t even know your name.”
I popped his cock out of my mouth. “Theodora,” I panted, sucking in air, and then I was back on his cock, bobbing my head faster and faster as I played with his balls.
He nuts were round and I gently squeezed them, trying to massage his cum out of his balls. He was getting closer and closer to cumming. I could feel the tension in his body grow and grow as he neared that explosive release and I tensed, ready to spring the moment his cum poured into my mouth. Up and down, I bobbed, swirling my tongue and sucking, feeling his cock tremble in my mouth, the spongy head brushing the roof of my mouth.
Duncan was a gentleman and warned me. “I’m gonna cum, Theodora,” he panted.
The first splash of cum was warm and salty in my lips. I released his cock as the second blast just flew up in air and landed on my blouse, a line of sticky fluids staining my clothing. I was drawing the Mark of Qayin on his forhead as his third blast flew up and splashed on his flannel shirt and I muttered, “Shama.” The Mark of Qayin blazed white and Duncan went blank as the prayer took effect.
Isabella should have had no problem enchanting Riz and I began to tell Duncan the plan. He nodded his head as he absorbed my orders. Worry gnawed at my stomach. Was this really necessary. These men were SWAT officers, highly trained at what they do. People were going to get hurt. People I was supposed to protect. I always thought the Order of Mary Magdalene existed to help people.
“The Greater Good,” Ramiel’s voice whispered back to me. “Not even the Promise Land was taken without bloodshed.”
The Greater Good. It was all for the Greater Good, I told myself. But another voice whispered from deep inside me, the road to Hell is paved in good intentions. I shivered. I just needed to have faith in Providence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You taxi is here, Monsieur Fitzsimmons,” the Concierge of the Chambres D’Hôtes L’Escalette, the hotel I was staying at in Toulouse. I was impatient to get to the Motherhouse and get my hands on the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. I needed the book to defeat Mark and rescue my wife from his clutches.
It had been a long flight when I landed Toulouse with a five hour layover in London, I had been traveling for nearly seventeen hours and I was exhausted. When I check into the hotel I crashed, and just woke up twenty minutes ago, noon, local time. Which was four AM, Friday morning, back in Washington State.
“Merci,” I nodded to the Concierge and slipped him a five euro.
He held the door open for me and I stepped into the white taxi. It was a small, European car, one of those tiny vehicles designed for the narrow, medieval streets that crowded European cities and towns. It was a little more than an hours drive to Rennes-le-Château, a quaint village built upon a hilltop, connected by a winding road and the driver, a dusky North African, talked in Arabic on his bluetooth the entire drive.
Finally, we reached the Motherhouse. The building was located behind the Church of Mary Magdalene, an old, stone edifice that was partially overgrown with green vines. The front door was a large, made of wood and bound in iron. On the door frame hung a plaque written in French, English, Spanish, and German described the history of the building. Another sign, handwritten in French, was taped to the front of the door. My French was very rusty, but it seemed to be the phone number of the caretaker who was out.
Sighing in frustration, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. “Bonjour, Maryām à l’appareil. Je vous écoute,” a woman answered in rapid French.
“Do you speak English?” I asked, hopefully. My high school French was far to rusty to converse with someone.
“Yes, I am Maryām,” the woman answered in a heavy accent.
“Hi, I’m Brandon Fitzsimmons and I was hoping I could meet with someone at the Motherhouse. There is a book in your collection that I’m just dying to examine.”
The voice on the other end thought for a moment. “Very well, Monsieur Fitzsimmons. Tomorrow at, say, 4 o’clock.”
“It’s very important, can we possibly meet sooner?” I asked.
“No, no. I am not in Rennes-le-Château,” she answered, in the background I heard something in French being broadcast. I frowned, it sounded like an airport announcement. “Saturday, 4 o’clock is the earliest I can meet.”
I sighed, another hours drive to Toulouse and then an hours drive back here tomorrow. “Very well. Thank you for your time, miss.”
“Until Saturday, then. Au revoir.” The line went dead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The captain has put on the fasten seatbelt sign,” the flight attendant announced in her British accent.
I was on British Airways flight 3471 descending into Toulouse Blagnac Airport in France on the hunt for Brandon Fitzsimmons.
Thirteen hours ago I took off at SeaTac and I was exhausted. But I couldn’t sleep. Every time I tried, Mark Glassner’s words came back to me. “Doug, Brandon’s headed for Rennes-le-Château, the Motherhouse of an order of nuns. The Order of Mary Magdalena. You must stop him from getting a book, the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. Do whatever it takes to stop him.”
Do whatever it takes to stop him. What did Mark mean. Did he want me to steal the book before Brandon could get it, delay him, stop him? Or did he want me to kill him? Could I kill him? I was a P.I. not a hitman. But the more I poured over Mark’s words, the more I came to believe I had to kill him. It’s clearly what Mark wanted. Do whatever it takes to stop him. What else could that mean? I had watched enough spy movies to understand what was implied. I was scared. I had never killed anyone. Twelve years as a cop and I never fired my gun in the line of duty. But Mark needed it done, and I would make sure it happened.
Fuck, I was so tired when I got off the plane, I could barely fill out the declaration card as I waited to clear customs. And then I stumbled out of customs as a somnambulist creature, barely capable of rational thought. I needed some coffee, badly as I reached baggage claim. I almost walked off with someone else’s suitcase, luckily the owner stopped me. “Too many people with black suitcases these days,” I grumbled as way of an apology.
My suitcase in hand, or I thought it was mine, anyways, I stumbled out to the cab stand. Just my luck, there were no cabs. It was the middle of the afternoon, you’d think there would be one cab. A phone rang and I glanced over to see a beautiful young woman, olive skin and long, black hair. She spoke rapidly in French and then switched to heavily accented English. “Yes, I am Maryām.”
As tired as I was, I found myself drinking in the beauty of the young woman. The woman was listening to whomever she was speaking with and then paused and gave me a considering look. I almost wondered why she was staring, but I was too tired. “Very well, Monsieur Fitzsimmons. Tomorrow at, say, 4 o’clock.”
I blinked, did she say Fitzsimmons? What a small world. I was here to kill a Brandon Fitzsimmons.
“No, no. I am not in …” the woman’s words were drowned out by an announcement over the airport’s speakers in french. “…is the earliest I can meet,” she finished. Pausing to listen and then, “Until tomorrow, then. Au revoir.” She hung up the phone and slipped it into her pocket, muttering something in French.
A taxi pulled up, finally. I wanted to take it, but some weird sense of male chauvinism rose up inside me and I offered to let the lady take this cab. What the hell, she was pretty. And I’m sure another cab would pull up soon.
“Merci,” she replied and then asked, “maybe we can share, no?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug.
“I am called Maryām,” she said with a smile, holding out her slim hand.
“Eh, Doug Allard,” I answered, clasping her warm hand and shaking briefly.
“American, no?” and I nodded. “How nice, I’ve always had a soft spot for you Americans.”
She slid into the cab and I followed her. “I always thought the French hated us.”
“Oh, some do,” Maryām laughed. “They are just jealous. Where are you heading, Doug.”
“Eh, Rennes-le-Château,” I answered. “Any hotel there will do.”
She smiled. “What a coincidence. I live in Rennes-le-Château.” When she said the name, it sound so musical and beautiful, not like my mangled pronunciation.
I fell asleep almost immediately and when I woke up the car was winding its way up a hill to a village perched at the crest. I sat up, rubbing my eyes as the cab weaved its way through the narrow streets past ancient stone buildings to the front of a large stone structure.
“Is this a hotel?” I asked, frowning.
“No,” Maryām replied, sliding out. “It is where I live. Come inside, I have a spare room you can use.”
Fuck, I was too tired to argue and she seemed harmless. I mean, I easily weighed twice as much as her. The door was wood, bound with iron and there was a several signs that I was too tired to read. Maryām produced a cast iron skeleton key and unlocked the door and led me inside. She led me through the foyer into a short hallway lined with narrow doors. She opened one, revealing a tiny room, little more than a square with a cot.
I turned to thank her and blinked in shock. Was I dreaming? I pinched my arm. No, that hurt.
Maryām was naked, her lithe, dusky body gorgeous. Her breasts perky with youth, topped with dark nipples. A mat of thick pubic hair covered her pussy and the smile on her face was both virginal and predatory. My cock hardened in my pants as I drank in her beauty. She walked towards me, her breasts swaying and pressed up against me, her lips hot and wet on mine.
My wife’s face floated up in my mind and I pulled away from the kiss. “Maryām what are you doing?”
Her hand slid into my pants and found my hard cock, stroking it in her hands and suddenly it didn’t matter that I was married. Tina would never know. She was all the way back in Tacoma. How would she know what I did in France. Maryām pushed me back and I sat down on the bed. She bent down, pulled off my jeans and then my boxers, exposing my hard cock.
“So nice,” she whispered.
She slid her finger down her taut body, through the forest of pubic hair and then slid them up inside her pussy. When she pulled them out they were sticky with her juices. She straddled my waist and rubbed her fingers on my forehead, then down the side of my face and to my mouth. She tasted of honey.
Maryām rose up, her hand on my cock and guided my shaft to her pussy. She was wet and felt like silk as her cunt sank down onto my cock. I groaned in pleasure, after two kids, Tina wasn’t this tight. I sank back onto the bed and watched this gorgeous angel ride slowly up and down on my cock, her round breasts heaving as she fucked me. I reached up, sliding my hand up her smooth side to cup the soft orb. I squeezed it, delighting in the spongy feel and then I ran my fingers across her hard nipple.
“Umm, you feel so hard inside me,” she purred as she rode me.
I groaned, her cunt was so tight. God, I hadn’t had a cunt this tight since I was in college. Nothing felt better than the tight cunt of a teenager on your dick. Her pussy gripped my cock like a tight glove, rubbing silkily up and down as she fucked me. My balls were boiling, the pressure growing inside me. Growing larger and stronger.
“I’m gonna cum!” I moaned. “Let me pull out!”
“No, cum in me,” she gasped. “Let me feel your lust shoot inside me! Oh, yes!”
She spasmed on me, her cunt deliciously contracting about my cock. I was thrusting my hips up into her, the sensation on my cock was getting to much to handle. My balls couldn’t take it anymore and my cum exploded out through my dick and up into her wet cunt.
“Shalak!” she screamed and I feel something inside me snap, a chain about my soul, binding my will to another. I felt freedom, and tears brimmed in my eyes as my soul sang in joy.
“Wh-what just happened?” I stammered as she slid off me.
Maryām was suddenly shy, covering her body with the blanket. “You were a Thrall, Doug,” she answered. “I have freed you from the Warlock’s power.”
And then she explained it all to me. Nuns, Warlocks, summoning demons. Everything I saw watching Mark Glassner, how everyone around him behaves. How I so easily agreed to do whatever he told me, including killing a man. It all finally made sense. Mark Glassner sold his soul for power and made me his pawn.
“God has a purpose for you, Doug,” Maryām said as I wept before her.
I could feel it in my soul. I had been touched by God when she freed me. “What?” I asked. It didn’t matter what the purpose was. When God calls, how can you say no.
The door opened and a young woman entered, maybe eighteen, her hair a black as night, falling about her naked body. Her skin was pale white, her breasts large and topped with dark nipples. Her pussy was shaved bare, her labia swollen with desire and juices leaked down her leg.
“This is Sister Frances Joan and she has a Gift for you, Doug,” Maryām said as the beautiful woman walked towards me. My cock hardened.
Sister Frances sat down on the bed next to me, her lips tasted sweet as she kissed me. Her hand reached down and stroked my hardening cock. Her fingers were silk as she rubbed my cock to life. I touched her breast, gently, reverently. Giving her firm orbs the tiniest of squeezes, sliding my palm up to rub on her hard nipple.
“Come, let me feel you in me,” Sister Frances moaned. “Let us join as one.”
She pulled me down into her embrace, her body warm and lithe beneath me. She guided my cock to the wet entrance of her pussy. We moaned together as I slid into her inviting, tight depth. Her lips played with my ear as her legs wrapped around my hips, pulling me tightly into her.
“You have such a nice cock,” she whispered.
I fucked her slowly, staring into her deep, brown eyes. No, I didn’t fuck her, I made love to her. It was like our wedding night and I was making love to my bride for the first time. Our hips were moving in unison, our lips kissing each other, murmuring our pleasure into the other’s ears. Our hands roamed each other’s bodies. I felt her slim thighs, her tight ass, her smooth side and her full breasts. Her hands roamed across my chest, playing with my chest hair, rubbing my back, and squeezed my ass, urging me to go faster and faster.
“Yes, harder,” she moaned. “Faster! Let me feel your passion!”
I could feel our passion building and building as my cock rubbed against her cunt. Every stroke was building both of our orgasms. In and out, rubbing deliciously against each other. I found her hard nipple with one hand, rolling it between my fingers. My strokes were fast now, I was pounding her pussy. Her moans of passion filled my ears as we both approached the precipice. I could feel the cum boiling over in my balls and shuddered as I orgasmed inside this beautiful creature. Her body shuddered beneath me, her cunt clenching at my cock, milking my cum out of my balls.
She gasped a single word.
“Zebed!”
Her Gift flowed into me. From deep within her womb, through her tight pussy, and into my cock. A golden power that suffused every fiber of my being, body and soul, transforming me. I was baptized in the ecstasy of light and reborn as a new man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Gabriel,” I greet the Archangel.
“Dominion Ramiel,” he responded, his voice a mighty choir. “I sense your doubts, brother.”
“I have followed the threads, the longer we wait the stronger the Warlocks become,” I answered. “Theodora and her sisters have three soldiers and surprise on their side. They have seventy percent chance of slaying the Warlocks.”
“With two of our Priestesses dead,” Gabriel pointed out. “Our Priestesses are two few to spend so recklessly.”
“By the time they have recruited the twelve soldiers, the Warlocks will have tripled their guard,” I fumed with righteous anger. “Let us strike know before the odds are even worst. After Monday, even with twelve, there will only be a twenty-seven percent chance of slaying the Warlocks. And still two of our Priestesses will die.”
“The soldiers are only a last resort.”
Curiosity drowned out my anger. “What have you seen in the future that I have not, Gabriel?”
“Observe,” Gabriel stated and drew up the threads of mankind drawing me to a silver thread. “This thread belongs to Alice Perry.” He lead me into the past, six mortal years. Alice’s silver thread brushed the red thread of the Warlock Mary Sullivan. “Alice develops an infatuation with Mary at the age of seventeen,” Gabriel informed. “But, slowly it is forgotten as she goes off to college.” The silver thread spiraled about the red thread, slowly drifting farther apart as the years went on.
I followed the silver thread through the years as it drifted farther from Mary’s, became entwined with another silver thread and then knotted as Alice married a man six months ago. But Alice and her husband’s thread drifted apart and then were separated as Alice’s thread became deeply entwined for a few weeks about another man’s.
“Adultery,” Gabriel said with disgust. “The marriage was broken beyond repair, though the husband knows it not.”
Alice’s thread brushed once more with Mary’s, and started circling the Warlock’s thread. “Here, the infatuation was rekindled,” Gabriel explained. “This was almost two weeks ago, on the very day Sister Louise made her disastrous attempt to exorcise Mark.” Alice’s thread was spiraling closer and closer to Mary’s. Gabriel pointed to Alice’s thread two day’s ago. It was Tuesday morning and Alice’s thread was trying to work its way between Mary and Mark’s thread. The two Warlock threads were bound as tightly as any lovers Ramiel had ever observed.
“A declaration of love?” I asked, staring at the pattern. Love, emotions, were not my skill at reading the threads. My expertise lay in conflict.
“Yes,” Gabriel nodded. “Alice Perry declared her love to Mary and it was ignored. Mary was too preoccupied with her problems that she didn’t even hear what Alice told her. Mark was under the effects of the Bond of Avvah. Alice has declared her love and it was not reciprocated. Unrequited love is a very powerful emotion.”
I followed Alice’s thread, in the future she once more tries to get between Mark and Mary. Next Wednesday afternoon.
“Do you see the opportunity the Bond of Avvah has created?” Gabriel asked.
I frowned, shaking my head.
“Alice never would have made her confession to Mary without it,” Gabriel explained. “Alice was too afraid of losing Mary. Alice believed it was inevitable that Mark and Mary’s relationship would break up. So she waited, biding her time for the moment when it seemed Mary would leave Mark, and then she would act. Now that she made her declaration, it is all Alice can think of. On Wednesday afternoon, in the room of the Blue Spruce motel, Alice will try once more to have Mary all to herself. When Mary rejects her love, she will be vulnerable.”
“The Prayer of Qannow?” I asked in shock. “That Prayer is very dangerous.”
“Watch what happens when Theodora exploits this opportunity,” Gabriel stated and drew Theodora’s golden thread until it touched April’s. I watched in amazement, as I followed Alice’s thread into the most probable future, studying the variable and calculating the percentage of success.
“Ninety-nine percent chance of the Warlock Mark’s death,” I said in awe.
“Yes, and Mary’s as well,” Gabriel pointed out. “The foolish mortal tied her life to Mark’s when she made her Pact. When Mark dies, so shall Mary and two less Warlocks shall plague the world.”
“So the Bond of Avvah was meant to fail?” I asked in astonishment. “It was all a set up to create this one opportunity?”
“There was good odds of the Bond working,” Gabriel answered. “But it also created this opportunity.”
“Then why gather the soldiers at all?” I asked in confusion. “Ninety-nine percent. Only the Creator can predict the future with more accuracy.”
“Because, Mark Glassner must die or be exorcised,” Gabriel stated. “If Alice fails, then it will fall to Theodora and her sisters. And as you said, the odds are slim and we shall never again have the power to challenge Mark with our diminished resources.”
Gabriel showed me the future and he was right. “The Lord shelter us with his mercy,” I whispered. The Warlock Mark Glassner must be stopped. “Is that why you dispatched two more Priestesses? You told me that only Theodora was available? What changed?”
“Only when Mary used her last boon was this pattern set,” Gabriel admitted. “Our brother, Lucifer, is setting brush fires across the world, trying to distract us from Mark. I could not move Isabella or Agnes until I was sure they were needed.”
“What do we do if it fails, Gabriel?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Gabriel answered sadly. “We will have lost, Ramiel. But Maryām will see that the fire of hope keeps burning in the Wilderness.”
To be continued…
Click here for Chapter 27.
