The Devil's Pact - S01 E205

Story 4 days ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E205

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 205

Eight-and-a-Half Weeks

I stood with Mary on the private balcony of our bedroom. Surveillance photos and videos of our house had just appeared on the eleven o'clock news on channel 5. Our law enforcement sluts, Chasity and Noel, figured the photos must have been shot from a house on Shaw Road across the empty lot. Mary and I sent our bodyguards to raid the house and were watching from our balcony. The house was two stories, sitting on a small rise and had a perfect view of the rear and left side of our house over the backyard fence.

We sent our bodyguards to raid the house, and their squad cars were just now screeching to a stop in front of the house. It was too dark to seen anything other than the strobing red and blue lights of the bodyguard's patrol cars and some movement in the backyard that. I felt the tension in Mary's body as we held each other and waited. My own heart was hammering in my chest.

The Nextel in my hand chirped. "Chasity to Master."

"Master," I responded into my Nextel.

"We have one prisoner and our still searching the house," Chasity reported, in a professional, commanding voice. She sounded like a cop. Well, she was a cop before I made her my sex slave. Chasity commanded the bodyguards, with Noel, our FBI slut, as her second in.command.

"Good work," I praised her.

"Thank you, Master," Chasity replied, her professional voice slipping back into the pleased, girlish voice of Chasity the sex slave.

Mary and I dressed quickly and head downstairs and waited in the living room. In a few minutes, Chasity and a Thai bodyguard, 30 1 think her number was, were marching an overweight, balding. middle aged man into the house. The prisoner was wearing a t- shirt and sweat pants, thick glasses hung askew on his flesh face, There was anger in his eyes as he was marched before us, and fear.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded. She was still angry about being spied on.

According to the news, the surveillance photos were sent in by Brandon Fitzsimmons. Brandon was the previous owner of our house, but I took it from him and made his wife, Desiree, our sex slave. Now, he was causing all sorts of problems. Last week he tipped off the FBI, and this week the media. I just spoke to Sheriff Erkhart, and there should be an BOLO for Brandon's arrest by now. I wanted him found and punished for the headaches he was causing me.

"Doug Allard," the man sullenly answered. Then blinked in surprise. People were always surprised by how readily they cooperated with US.

"And Brandon Fitzsimmons hired you, right?" asked.

"Yeah, I'm a P.I," he answered. "What are you going to do to me?"

I ignored his question. "How long have you been watching us?"

"A week, since last Tuesday," he replied. "Fuck, what's wrong with me. What have you done to me? Is it that gas?" Fear quivered suddenly in his voice. The explanation the authorities came up with to explain my powers was some gas that left people very suggestible. I guess that's more plausible then the truth that I sold my soul to the Devil for the power to control people.

Mary laughed, richly. "No, no. People just like doing what we tell them to, isn't that right, Doug?"

"I guess I do," Doug muttered, squirming in Chasity and 30's grip.

A black bodyguard entered, a laptop tucked under arm. "Sir," 18 saluted and handed me the laptop.

"Are all your surveillance files on here?" I asked him.

"No, I have online backups." He shrugged. "You know, in the cloud. Plus, I've sent copies of everything to Brandon."

I handed him his laptop. "Delete all you can," I ordered. "All your backups in the cloud. Uncuff him."

Doug rubbed his wrists when the handcuffs came off and took his laptop and started typing. "Where is Brandon?" Mary asked. "He's not answering his cell phone. We would just love to see him, again.

"He's gone off the grid," Doug admitted. "I only communicate to him through a Hotmail account."

"I want you to find him," I told him. "Track him down and let me know where he is."

"Okay," Doug said. "You're not going to do anything else to me." Surprise and relief tinged his voice.

"No, no," told him. "Brandon's the real problem. I'll give you, what, a million dollars, to cover your fees and expenses."

Doug goggled at me.

"Absolutely. Brandon pissed all over me by hanging me out to dry. I don't care what you do to him."

Mark woke me up as he crawled out of bed. "Going jogging?" I asked, sleepily. We went to bed right after talking to Doug last night.

"Yeah, Mare," he whispered. "Sorry to wake you."

"It's okay," I said, sitting up and stretching. "Um, would you mind if I joined you."

Mark smiled, "Sure, Mare. I'd love that. I'm sure all the club members will just love you." He stretched his back, and I admired his flat stomach and lean chest. "Remind me when we get back to talk to Karen."

Right, last night was so crazy. After we interrogated the P.I. and Mark gave him a million dollars to hunt down Brandon, we went to bed, exhausted. Yesterday was a long, and very emotional day. I still goggled about how much money Mark paid Doug. A million was far too much money, but Mark had a weird streak of generosity about him. Or maybe he just didn't care. If we needed more money, he'd just rob another bank, guess. It's one of the reasons I started the charity. I had us both down as Officers in the charity's finances so we could use whatever money we got and maybe there would not be so much bad press on us.

I tottered off to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. I should be pissing in one of the slut's mouths, I thought. It was so exciting pissing into a woman's mouth, feeling her tongue licking your pussy clean. Far more satisfying then this toilet paper. I finished wiping, and flushed the toilet. I looked at myself in the mirror, applied some light blush and a pale, pink lipstick, then ran a comb through my auburn hair, getting the tangles out, before tying my hair back with a blue scrunchy.

I stifled a yawn when Mark walked in, naked save for socks and his jogging shoes. "Coming?" he asked, a little impatient.

"I had to get ready," I told him, rolling my eyes. Mark could be an idiot sometimes.

"You look great, Mare," he told me and leaned in to kiss me on the lips. Well, he was definitely a sweet idiot.

I followed Mark down the stairs, naked as well, and started pulling on a pair a tennis shoes. 34, looking tired in her slutty cop's uniform, walked in and said something to Mark. "What's going on?" I asked.

"32 reports that a lot of media are gathering out on Shaw Road. She had to call for 25 and 30 to come help her with crowd control," 34 reported to me.

"We're going to need to say something to the reporters, Mark," I told him.

Mark muttered something under his breath. "I'll go grab us some tops and we'll give a quick interview and send them packing," Mark sighed in irritation.

"Your jogging sluts will be waiting for you when we're finished," I told him. "So don't be grouchy."

"Yeah, they're a good group of gals," Mark answered, that boyish grin of his spreading on his face, and then he disappeared upstairs. He came down, wearing a buttoned down shirt and handed me a nice, red blouse with a plunging neckline.