The Devil's Pact - S01 E331

Story 15 hours ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E331

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 331

Introduction:

Brandon has captured Mark, and Mary has a desperate plan to save him.

Mary Magdalene

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! 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 safel

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 seeina 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.