The devil's Pact - S01 E405

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The devil's Pact - S01 E405

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 405

"Yes, Mistress!"

Mary leaned over, her face inches from Jessica. "Are you making my husband feel good, slut?"

"I am, Mistress, Jessica answered.

"Good," Mary smiled and kissed her.

"Fuck, that's hot," I muttered as I watched my wife kissing Jessica. My balls were close to exploding, and I groaned and shot my wad Into Jessica's ass.

Mary broke the kiss. "Clean his up cock, slut."

"Absolutely," Jessica purred, and quickly knelt before me, sucking my dirty cock into her mouth.

Mary slipped off the desk, rubbed Jessica's head, and told her, "You'll do just fine. We both love you."

Jessica bearned around my cock.

The door banged opened and Sam walked in, flanked by Candy. "I think Lilith may have done something to Fiona."

"What?" I asked her as Jessica released my cock.

"It's possible she's a trap," Sam answered. "Fiona was left alone in the Mayor's house with none of Lilith's children to guard her. The demoness had to know we were coming for her soon. She was ready to escape when your forces assaulted."

"Lilith meant for her to get captured?" Mary asked.

Sam nodded. "What if Lilith intends for you to exorcise her. She's a Warlock, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. "She's made some Pact with Lilith."

"Well, Lilith knows a lot. What if she balted Fiona somehow. If you try to exorcise her, it's possible for it to backfire and harm you. Maybe even kill you."

Mary paled, swallowing, and a chill ran through me.

Candy nodded. "It's what I would do. And Lilith is a crafty bitch!"

"Then how do we interrogate her?" Mary asked. "I'm not sure I can torture Fiona. She was one of ours, Mark."

It left a queasy feeling in my stomach, but we needed to know about Lilith's plans. "Maybe there is a way, I realized, glancing at my wife. "When you made your Pact with the Devil, Mary, what did you wish for?"

Tir-Sangi, the Democratic Republic of Congo

I watched Thamina, my birth-mother, sit disconsolately on the doorstep of a rough hut.

Fiona, her wife, never made it to the rendezvous. She was dead or captured, my birth-mother grieved her absence. We were in one of the three villages filled with the women we rescued from several refugee camps in the jungles of Africa. In these camps, vile men called 'warlords' would wander in and claim these women for his men to be raped. Well, Mother sent my sisters and I to save them, and we made short work of a dozen of those bands. These women, recognizing the divinity of Mother, welcomed her embrace. By the end of the week, an army of my sisters would be born and we would retake Seattle.

"Mother will save her, I said, hugging my birth-mother.

"No, she won't." Despair creased her dusky face. "Lilith doesn't care.

"Of course Mother cares," I protested. Mother loved all her followers, she said so all the time. "You're just sad, but Fiona will be fine." She buried her face in my chest, and I held my birth- mother, and chirped a reassuring song to her. My song trilled beautifully, soft and comforting, and I rocked her as she sobbed, gently stroking her black hair.

"Tir," Mother purred.

I shuddered in delight, looking up at a perfect face framed by silver hair. Lilith. My Mother. She was the Ideal woman, the mold all others were imperfectly cast from. Her lust poured over me, over us. Even my sobbing mother shuddered in pleasure. Lilith ignored my birth-mother, staring down at me.

"How is the disease progressing?"

"Wormwood is spreading through the population," I answered, reaching out to sense my half of the disease.

I could feel it. Every man who drank from the city's water supply. The man he infected on his way to work, to school, to breakfast, to the gym. Some left the city, spreading it to the communities surrounding Seattle. Others entered the city and became infected. Even better, some had boarded planes, traveling to other parts of the United States and to other parts of the world. When the symptoms started manifesting in a few days, the world would descend into chaos.

"Wormwood?" Lilith asked. "That is what you're calling it?"

"It seemed appropriate, Mother."

Mother laughed, rich, beautiful. It made my song sound like an off- tune screech. "It does."

Fiona Cavanagh - Murano Hotel, Tacoma, WA

I lay on the hotel bed, watched by two of Mark's disgusting bodyguards. They still wore the same, ridiculously slutty, cop outfits. Though the chokers with their number printed on them was new.

How degrading. Mark couldn't even call them by their names, he Just assigned them numbers. A pig who viewed women as nothing more than objects to satiate his myriad, twisted lusts. And that whore he married was even worse. Not only did she tolerate his degrading behavior, she encouraged it by finding women and serving them up to him so he could feast upon them.

I didn't recognize the two bodyguards. Of course they were beautiful, and Mark dressed them in such demeaning outfits. The Hispanic guard's large tits looked about ready to spill out of her top, and she wore no bra to give those large breasts any support, poor girl. Her number was 127. Next to her stood 126, a porcelain faced, Korean beauty. When did he get that many bodyguards?

I gave a snort of laughter. He's taken over the entire country, would soon control the entire world, and had driven my Goddess from her place of power, and here I am wondering when they expanded their bodyguards. Get your priories straight, woman!

I curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow, and wondered if Thamina was okay. And Ziki, my daughter with Lilith. She had been masquerading as Nate Kirkpatrick, head of Human Resources for the city of Seattle. Were they alive? The warehouse had been burned down. Did Thamina escape? She could make a portal to the Shadows, so she should have been able to escape. I didn't want to lose my dusky, Arab princess! She must have escaped!

Right?

And what was going to happen to me? Would Mark try to make me his whore again? No. My deal with Lilith should protect me from his control. So what would they do to me? Rape me? Torture me for information? remembered how they treated Karen when she attacked them. They degraded her, broke her spirit until she agreed to be their little slut. Would they do that to me? Force me to be their whore again and wear that loathsome choker?

For a moment I couldn't breath, remembering the choker tight about my neck, strangling the will and dignity out of me. No! I'm a free woman! I will not submit to their vile lusts again!

At noon, they brought me a hamburger and fries for lunch. If I had any hope of escaping, I needed to keep my strength up. That's what people always said in movies in these situations. Keep my spirits up, keep my strength up, and wait for my captors to mess up and take my chances with an escape. After I ate, they let me use the bathroom, but one of the guards, 127 and her huge tits, followed me in.

As I sat on the toilet, pissing, I eyed her gun. I could go for it, grab it and shoot my way out.

The guard shifted, sensing my gaze and turning her body so the gun was on the other side. A warning look flashed across her dark face. I flushed. Crap! Now they would be more careful. When I finished peeing, the guard watched me wipe myself.

"You can take a shower," 127 told me.

"Are you going to watch?" asked.

She gave me an apologetic smile. "Those are my orders. You should get used to this. Criminals always get watched."

"Is that what I am?" asked, a bitter taste in my mouth. I reached into the shower and turned the knobs.

"Of course," she answered. "You served their enemies."