The devil's Pact - S01 E424

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The devil's Pact - S01 E424

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 424

The Patriot's Blood

For those of us that remained free of the Tyrants' control, one of the great mysteries of their rule was the Patriots. They had appeared almost immediately to challenge Mark and Mary. From their first assassination attempt in Washington D.C., to their spectacular attack in February of 2014 that left dozens dead in the streets of Tacoma, the Patriots had been a constant thorn in the Tyrants' side. So why did they mysteriously vanish after almost crashing Mark's plane on May 1st, 2014?
–excerpt from 'The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy', by Tina Allard

Thursday, May 6th, 2014 – Mark Glassner – The Mansion

“Are you ready, Chase?” I asked my week old daughter. I was using that high-pitched voice everyone seemed to use when talking to infants; I just couldn't help myself; she was so cute and beautiful. Chase, as we had started calling her, cooed and stared up at me with her blue eyes. “I wonder what mommy is doing? Huh, do you want to go see?”

Chase gurgled.

“That's what I thought, kiddo.” I kissed her forehead, and walked into Mary's dressing room. My wife was naked, applying her make-up. Her auburn hair fell in a full, curly mass about her shoulders. “Looks like Mommy isn't ready yet, even though we have to leave in fifteen minutes.”

Mary glared at me over her shoulder, her expression softening when she saw Chase. “Mommy needs to look like a Goddess,” she said in that high-pitched, sing-song voice. “Daddy just needs to not look like a slob.”

I feasted on my wife's body. You could hardly tell Mary had even been pregnant. Between her Gift and her Pact, her body had quickly returned to its youthful, flawless beauty. Though her breasts were still a cup size larger, heavy with sweet milk. In fact, that was the first thing my daughter and I had in common—we both loved Mary's milk.

I admired my wife as she pulled dark-black, thigh-high stockings up her pale legs, then stepped into her deep-blue dress, and pulled it up her body. It was strapless, and would leave the majority of her freckled breasts bare. “Can you zip me?” she asked.

I handed Chase to her, and Mary cooed happily at our daughter as I zipped her up. Chase was a happy baby during the day; at night, however, she was the opposite. I yawned; I had to spend an hour last night walking up and down the halls with our fussy daughter before she fell back to sleep. I could have had a maid do it, but I wanted to be her father, and that meant getting little sleep so I could take care of her.

“Today is your special day,” Mary cooed in a high-pitched, singsong voice. “You're going to meet your worshipers, and they are going to just love you.”

The Cunningham twins were building the main Church of the Living Gods in downtown Puyallup, but for the moment they had repurposed a nearby Christian megachurch. Many Christian churches were being transformed into Living Churches as the number of Christians in America plummeted. With so many new converts over the last five months, many of our original worshipers had founded their own congregations across the country, our Missionaries.

As we walked through the hallways of the mansion, maids would pause from their cleaning to curtsy, and I let my eyes admire their fine bosoms on display in their transparent blouses, and maybe reach under a ruffled skirt to give a bare ass a squeeze. Outside, our limo awaited in the middle of a convoy made up of black SUV's carrying several squads of bodyguards. More bodyguards would already be down at the church making sure everything was secure.

“There's my Granddaughter,” Sean, Mary's father, cooed, taking Chase from my wife.

Both of our families were coming to the ceremony. Sean stood at the heart of his family: his very pregnant wife Tiffany; his two daughters, Missy and Shannon; their boyfriends Damien and George; and the family's sex slaves. Dawn belonged to Missy, Starla to George and Shannon, Mrs. Corra to Damien, and Felicity to Sean and Tiffany. It was still surprising to see Felicity; nearly a year ago Mary had given the teenage girl to her father, and then Sean had freed her. I never thought to see her again, but a month ago she showed up, begging to be Sean's slave again.

“Don't hog her,” my mom said to Sean, a big smile on her face as he handed our daughter off to her. “She's just so beautiful, isn't she Betty?”

My mom's Black girlfriend nodded in agreement, her arm wrapped around my mom's waist. Antsy insisted on her turn holding my daughter, and she tenderly held her niece while her girlfriend Via cooed in joy. Missy demanded to be next, then Shannon, and last the very pregnant Tiffany had her turn, tears glinting in her eyes as she held her granddaughter.

“We have to get going,” I finally said, taking my daughter from my mother-in-law. “You can hold her later.”

The limo pulled away from the mansion, and I noticed a flash of fear crossing Mary's face. “What?” I asked her, reaching across the car seat strapped between us and taking her hand.

Mary glanced down at our daughter. “What if the patriots...”

“They won't,” I lied. It was a fear nagging the back of my mind too. What if they did try something. I kept coming up with rationalizations why they wouldn't. “It's too public. They're not going to risk all those innocent people.”

“Maybe this is a mistake, Mark.”

“We can't keep her in a bubble all her life. We have our guards, she has her amulet, and we'll be there to protect her.”

“Yeah, sis,” Missy giggled. “Your husband's a bad-ass warrior. There's nothing to worry about. He'll just summon that wicked sword of his and...” She a swishing noise and sliced her arm through the air. “That's that.”

Antsy laughed. “That's my big brother. Attack the problem head-on with a big, phallic-shaped object.”

“Maybe I should attack you with a phallic-shaped object,” I grinned at my sister.

“Promise?” she asked, fluttering her eyes.

“You can count on it, sis.”

“So, Mark,” Shannon said, shifting in her seat between George and Missy, “I've always wondered something.”

“Yeah?”

“You got your gift from Mom, but how would you pass yours on. Hypothetically speaking, how did one Monk give his powers to another. Would you have to ass-fuck the guy? I mean, that's basically how nuns do it, right?”

“Yep,” Tiffany nodded. “We ass-fuck each other.”

A laugh passed through the limo.

“So, how do you pass it on?” Shannon asked after catching her breath.

“I'd have to die,” I answered.

“What?” Mary exclaimed, giving me a shocked look. “Is that a joke, Mark?”

“Nope,” I said. “Monks pass on their gift to the person that killed them.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “I figured they just fucked someone. Like nuns do it.”

“It's an act of forgiveness,” I explained. “I never told you this, Mare?”

She shook her head.

“That sounds weird,” Antsy said. “Why would they do it like that?”

“Well, the way Azazel explained it was to help the person who killed you become a better human being. That's why there are so few Monks; if they were slain by a demon, or if they thought the man who killed them would abuse the power, they wouldn't pass on their Gift.”

Mary raised her eyebrow. “How can you forgive the person that killed you?”

I shrugged; it seemed impossibly hard. “Fuck if I know.”

“Well, I guess you won't be giving up your powers any time soon, big bro.”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “Little attached to my life.”

“So am I,” my wife smiled, and leaned over our daughter's car seat to kiss me on the lips.

“Get a room!” Ansty yelled and Missy wolf-whistled.

“If we got a room, then you couldn't watch,” Mary smiled at our sisters.

“That's a fair point,” Missy said to my sister. “Plus, we couldn't join in. So where's the fun in that.”

“Excellent point, pipsqueak,” Antsy agreed.

“Pipsqueak?” shrieked Missy.

“Umm, how about a cute, beautiful, vivacious pipsqueak?”

“Better,” Missy smiled, and gave my sister a kiss on the lips, which brought a wolf-whistle from Damien.

The crowds were ecstatic as we pulled up to the church, held back by a line of bodyguards. Many of the faithful had flocked to the church to see their new Goddess. There were more women then men, a sad reality in the aftermath of the Wormwood plague, and I admired more than a few pair of exposed breasts as our limo crept slowly forward.

I savored the passionate cries of my worshipers that flooded the limo when Leah opened the doors. Our sexy chauffeur bowed with a flourish of her arm as I stepped out. I surveyed the crowed, then held my hand to help Mary out, little Chase in her arms. It was like a physical wave slamming into us as the crowd roared their love. I waved and Mary held Chase up to her cheek, facing our daughter towards our loving worshipers. The noise scared our daughter, and she started fussing; Mary rocked and soothed her as we walked into the church.

“My Lord, my Lady,” breathed Rose Cunningham, her blonde hair caught up in a long braid. Daisy, her twin-sister and wife, slipped up beside her, and they bowed their heads.

The Cunningham Twins were our High Priestess. In a ceremony in March, we had publicly bound them with the Zimmah spell in this very building, sealing their position as the head of our Church. Since they were bound, and therefore trustworthy, Mary handed over Chase to Daisy. Our priestess's face melted with awe, and she gently cradled our daughter.

“She's perfect,” Daisy breathed, handing the infant to Rose, who bent down and kissed our daughter's forehead.

“We've set aside a room for you to wait in, my Lord,” Rose said, handing Chase back to Mary. “The Ceremony will begin in about an hour.”

I suppressed a yawn, there were worshipers watching us, and it wouldn't do to let them see us as humans. “Lead on,” I commanded.

It was a small room set with a few, padded benches. Two of the maids—cute, innocent Cindy and sultry, dusky-skinned Karishma—had set out refreshments of wine and juice and quickly started serving Mary, our families, and me. I sat down between my wife and my sister, who pressed her warm body up against me. Almost immediately, Missy and her boyfriend Damien started making out.

“You are such a cute thing,” Sean smiled as Cindy handed him a glass of wine. Pregnant Tiffany gave her husband an amused look.

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled back, braces glinting on her white teeth.

“I would have loved to have you in my class.” Sean's hand reached out and fondled the teen's ass. Cindy's grin broadened. She was a maid and lived to serve in any way.

Mary glanced up, rolled her eyes, and held up Chase to Karishma. “She's a little young to see this.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Karishma purred in her Hindi accent. “You are so beautiful,” she cooed to my daughter, carrying her out of the room.

Cindy let out a gasp; Sean's hand rubbed between her thighs. It seemed like I had transformed both our families into sex fiends. My sister's hand rubbed at my crotch, her lips kissing my neck as Sean pulled our teenage maid into his lap, and aggressively kissed her.

Mary shifted in her seat. “All my careful work is going to get ruined,” she muttered, then shrugged. “Oh well, I'll just cast an illusion on myself.” She had become quite proficient with the Ashan spell, and sometimes like to play pranks on me with her illusions.

I glanced at her. My wife's cheeks were flushed, her emerald eyes wide with desire, and wet spots appeared over her breasts, darkening her bodice. “You're leaking,” I whispered.

“Damn,” she muttered, pulling her dress down. Her two dark-red nipples popped into view, white milk beading on the hard nub. When she became horny, her breasts always leaked milk.

Shannon, who sat on the other side of Mary, smiled. “Let me help you, sis.”

Mary gasped as her older sister sucked her right nipple into her lips, nursing loudly. My sister pulled my cock out, stroking it a few times, then leaned over me to capture my wife's other nipple. My shaft was rock hard, leaking pre-cum as my sister jacked me off. Her cheeks hollowed as she nursed at my wife's breast, milk leaking out of the corners of her lips.

“Oh, yes!” moaned Cindy, drawing my attention to my teenage maid bouncing on my father-in-law's cock.