The Devil's Pact Pt. 29

Another thing I had caused.

"Mark..."

I spotted a small, white bridal tent. The voice came from there. I realized where I was. Mary had been talking about our wedding plans as I fell asleep, describing the meadow where her parents were married on Mount Ranier, a field of flowers. The tent was where Mary should be. Was a dream version of Mary in there? Was it her voice I heard?

I had to find out.

I crossed the fields. Everything shifted in subtle ways as I walked. Whenever I looked away and looked back, things seemed different--the hues of the flowers, their shapes. The position of Mount Rainier looming overhead shifted. Even the tent changed. Sometimes the flap was open. Sometimes it was closed.

I reached it and stepped inside.

"Mark..." she whispered, her voice chiming like bells.

She stood in the tent, a beautiful woman, young, in her early twenties. Her skin was burnished bronze and her eyes were scarlet. Around her face and shoulders fell hair the same hue as her eyes. She wore a simple, white tunic, her large breasts straining against the plain fabric. At her waist hung a golden sword set with rubies. A soft smile graced her lips as she eyed me.

"Who are you?" I asked suspiciously.

"I am Azazel," the woman answered.

Her tunic melted away, and she stood naked before me. Her breasts were large and perfectly shaped, her nipples hard and fat. Scarlet pubic hair hid her pussy as she walked towards me. She touched me, and I shuddered in pleasure.

It was like being touched by Lilith.

Somehow, I was on my back and she was straddling me, her pussy enveloping my cock. The feeling was so intense, an ecstasy of pleasure surged through me as my cock throbbed in her warm, wet depths. I groaned, my cum shooting into her the moment she bottomed out. She smiled in delight, shuddering atop me as she started riding my erupting cock.

"It has been so long since I have given a man the Ecstasy," Azazel moaned in her melodic voice.

Ecstasy...

Through the fog of lust swamping my thoughts and the pleasure erupting from my dick as it kept spurting into the furnace of her pussy, I remembered where I heard that word spoken with such emphasis, like it was an important name instead of a common word. It was what Karen had called it when the Archangel Gabriel would come upon her and give her a mission.

The Ecstasy.

She described it as pure pleasure. I understood why. It was almost as overwhelming as the times I had experienced Lilith's touch. My body wouldn't stop cumming. I lost track of how many pulses of cum burst from the tip of my cock, flooding Azazel's cunt.

The angel's cunt.

It took me a moment to understand why she was even here. Then it hit me as I grunted and heaved, my hands groping the angel's breasts. I had Tiffany's Gift. I guess the other side could interact with me now.

Anger surged through me. Fuck that. They had caused me far too much pain and suffering for me to even think about listening to them or doing what they desired.

"What do you want, angel?" I spat, trying to fight the pleasure. Damn, it was hard. Her pussy was a silken glove and it was rapture as she slid it up and down my pussy.

Azazel laughed. "I am an angel. The Angel of Death, to be specific."

"You're a woman though," I grunted, the pleasure boiling out of my balls. "I always thought the Angel of Death was some guy in a black robe."

"Why would Death be a man?" she asked, breasts jiggling in my hands. She leaned over me, grinding her clit into my pubic bone as my dick kept erupting. "Life comes into this world from a woman. It is only fitting that life should leave this world the same way."

I wanted to answer her, but it was so hard. She kept riding me, pleasuring me. I tossed my head, writhing in ecstasy while the angel gasped, her sweet voice ringing like a bell. My hands squeezed her breasts.

I couldn't just lie here. I had to resist. Somehow.

"What do you want?" I demanded, fingers dug into her

"It is my job to teach and guide Shamans," Azazel answered.

"What?"

"A Warlock who has been given the Gift of the Spirit. You are a Warlock no longer, but you are not quite a Priest. A monk as they are called these days. You are a Shaman, with both the powers of Paradise and Perdition."

"This has happened before?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes," Azazel answered. "It is rare. There is a way for a Warlock to steal the Gift, of course. And Tiffany was hardly the first Priestess to give her Gift to a Warlock. In fact, the most famous Shaman of all would be King Solomon. When the Queen of Sheba was sent to exorcise him, the foolish woman fell in love with him and gave him her powers instead. Any questions?"

"Why would you want to help me?" I demanded. "I'm a Warlock. Your side has been attacking me since day one!"

"Perhaps I can temper your wickedness," Azazel answered with a smile. "And maybe some good can come from your actions." She twisted her hips, squeezing her angelic cunt as she slid down my cock and another blast of cum flooded up inside her. "Ohh, I love it when a mortal floods me with his seed. Maybe you'll quicken a life in my womb!"

"What?" I asked in shock.

She threw back her head, a rich, chiming laughter peeled from her lips. "I can bear no child. Relax mortal. My field is not fertile."

Could I have kids now? Mary wanted to have kids, but Karen told us a nun couldn't get pregnant. It was one of the protections they were given. Mary would be crushed if I was sterile now. So I asked the angel as I rolled her nipples.

Azazel cocked her head. "Yes, you can. The Priestesses were given that protection because of the nature of their Prayers. Priests, on the other hand, have very different powers. Anything else, or shall we get started on your education?"

"No," I snapped, the anger swelling. She was so presumptive that I wanted her help. And she invaded my dreams. She used me. Her pussy was ecstasy. I could become addicted to this. Maybe that was the point. I ripped my hands from her tits and snarled, "I don't want anything to do with your side. My Chastity is dead because of your nuns!"

"Not my nuns," Azazel pointed out. "Gabriel's nuns."

"I don't care!" My balls erupted again. But my anger kept the pleasure from overwhelming me. "Your side can go fuck themselves."

"Ooh, I'd rather fuck you," Azazel panted. "Your cock feels so nice inside me."

I grit my teeth as she rode me faster and faster. She arched her back, thrusting those magnificent breasts forward. She moaned in wanton delight as she came. Her cunt convulsed with heavenly bliss about my cock. I came the entire time. Every time her pussy clenched, my dick erupted. Stars danced before my eyes. It was rapture.

Ecstasy.

And I hated her for making me ache for her touch. I shuddered and groaned in relief when she rose from me. My cum spilled down her bronze thighs. Gasping for breath, I found myself moaning in disappointment that my dick was free of her pussy.

I used my anger to remind me of the truth--she was just trying to enslave me.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, Mark, just say my name and we can resume your education."

"I won't," I promised.

Her mocking laugh followed me as I rose to wakefulness.

I came awake on a hospital chair, my neck sore, my pants soaked with cum. Mary stirred next to me, shifting her position on her chair, face relaxed in sleep. I panted from breath as I sat up, gasping and heaving. I ached for the angel. I wanted to call her name and--

"Master," a soft voice whispered.

Xiu's voice shot through my turmoil. My heart beat with hope as I looked up to see my Chinese slut staring at me, her head lolled to the side, her slanted eyes glossy but seeing. She was awake. She would survive. I didn't get another of my women killed.

I stood up, took her hand, and kissed it. "Hi, Xiu."

She smiled softly, her eyes closed, and she slipped back into sleep.

As I held her hand, I promised myself, and Chasity's spirit, that I wouldn't use Heaven's power. Not after Desiree almost died the first time a nun attacked me. Korina had been shot, too, and this time Xiu was badly hurt along with plenty of my bodyguards. And Chastity and five of the bodyguards were dead.

"Fuck Heaven," I snarled, a growling whisper as I stroked Xiu's hand. Fuck their powers. I would hold onto the Gift and keep it from ever being used for their side again. I would deprive them of one of the few tools they still possessed.

Chapter Six

And He proclaimed before the gathered faithful this command: "Love each other." It was simple, so pure, and so full of truth. And there they loved each other, the first worship orgy to the Living Gods.

--The First Book of Vivian 16:3

Mary Sullivan

I woke up to Mark standing by Xiu's bed, holding her hand as he watched her sleep. He looked so strong, his muscular body stretching out his shirt. He had changed so much since Mom gave him her Gift, his body transformed into a hunk.

So sexy.

With a purr I stood up and pressed against his back, my arms wrapped about him.

"Hey, Mare," he said, his voice distant, remote.

"What's wrong?"

"Bad dreams," he answered. "Xiu woke up for a moment."

"She did." I smiled and peeked around him to staring down at her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful. "Good."

I slid around him to kiss his cheek and then both our stomachs growled loudly.

We ate breakfast at the hospital before returning to Xiu's room. It was a serviceable breakfast. We had a bubble of space around us thanks to our armed bodyguards, keeping back the gawking staff. Our bodyguards looked tired, but 51 and her girls were devoted to protecting us.

They had to be. We commanded it.

Xiu was awake when we returned to her room. "Mistress," she groaned when we walked in, her eyes blinking. "Master."

"Xiu," I smiled, moving to her bed and sitting down beside her. I took her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." Her voice was weak.

"Any pain?"

She shook her head. "Why? What happened?"

"We were attacked yesterday," Mark told her. "You were shot. You almost died."

I bit my lip. "Xiu, they had to perform a hysterectomy to save your life."

Xiu blinked as I caressed her hand. "I... I can't have... Master's children?"

"That doesn't matter," Mark told her, stroking her forehead. "It just matters that you're alive." Then he sighed, and told her about Chasity's death.

Xiu fell back asleep, tears staining her eyes.

Mark didn't set her free like we had the other sex slaves. She was too weak to face the truth of what we did to her. When she was better, we could let her go. Mark kissed her forehead then suggested we check on the other wounded bodyguards.

It wasn't good. One had died during the night: 30. Six bodyguards and Chasity dead. Tears fell down my cheeks. 04 and 47 were still unconscious. But the other eighteen were conscious and eating breakfast. They had suffered a variety of gunshots, some more serious than others. Four were well enough to be discharged this morning, having only taken grazing wounds.

They were all happy to see us.

Noon approached as we finished visiting the bodyguards. "51," Mark ordered the Black woman who seemed to be in charge of the bodyguard now, "We're heading home."

Had Chasity setup a chain of command that put 51 in charge? Or of the six fit for duty after the firefight, had she been the one to step up and take charge of the bodyguard?

"Yes, sir," 51 nodded then barked orders to fetch the cop cars.

Mark and I rode in the back of 51's squad car--my poor, sporty Eos was destroyed in the firefight along with Mark's Mustang. I trembled in the back of the car. It was time to find out if any of our sluts would stay with us.

Mark stared out the window, remote, silent. I leaned against him. "You still have me. No matter what the sluts decide."

"I still don't want them to leave us," Mark said. "I want them all to stay."

I leaned against him. "Me, too." Tears beaded my eyes. "I love them, Mark. They're our family. But we can't force them to stay and put them in danger."

Mark nodded his head. "No, now we can't. Not after Chasity and 30 and..." His words trailed off, his jaw set.

Tears burned in my eyes.

A huge crowd awaited us outside the entrance of the street we lived on. I expected the media to be there, but not the others. They swamped the street in both directions, holding signs and cheering loudly as we approached. There were easily more than a hundred of them. Maybe two hundred.

"Holy shit," Mark said, reading the signs.

My eyes widened.

They said things like: "I worship you," and "Mark Glassner is God," and "I slept with a god" and "The Living God Walks Among Us" and more. The majority of those gathered were women, some flashing their tits at us, but there were men, too.

"What the fuck is this about?" Mark asked me.

"I don't know."

* * *

Mark Glassner

Mary's eyes were wide as she stared at me. The roar of the crowd intensified. I could hear people calling me a god. My eyes scanned the women. I recognized a few I had fucked before. Some were completely topless, their tits painted with more slogans.

"Sir," 51 said. "Your miraculous healing is all over the internet. It went viral. Some people think you're a god."

"Stop the car," I ordered. I had to tell people that I wasn't a god. This was ridiculous.

"Mark?" Mary asked as 51 stopped. The crowd cheered louder.

"Let's put a stop to this," I said and stepped out of the car.

The crowd fell to their knees at the sight of me and bowed. Some pressed their faces all the way to the pavement. I blinked in shock. Their cries rolled over me, their faces showing rapture and love.

"My God!"

"Bless me!"

"I am yours!"

"Take me!"

My dick hardened at the sight of bared breasts and wanton looks. There were beauties in the crowd, women I had enjoyed. I spotted the Cunningham twins, Daisy and Rose, both blondes topless and rubbing their tits together. There was the girl I fucked in the theater, one hand shoved between her thighs, masturbating. The woman I fucked in the restroom of the car lot. Vivian and Cindy from the coffee shop. The busty girl from the orgy in the locker room. The redhead I gave to her boyfriend as a sex slave, kneeling, a collar tight about her neck, a leash clutched in his hand. Several girls from the Buy Best orgy. The hot wife I fucked while her husband watched. He stood beside her.

Their love, their devotion, their worship was so intoxicating. I raised my hands up and they hushed in excited anticipation of what I would say. They were obeying me without me even giving them a command. An intoxicating rush shot through me. This was power. I was power. I could do things that no normal person ever could. I was better than them. I could guide them, shape them. Make them better than what had been before. Mary wanted me to become a politician to change the world. This wasn't much different.

Besides, how could I refuse these people?

"What is your commandment, my Lord?" a man shouted.

"Love each other."

I did not know why that phrase appeared on my lips, but it felt right. A groan went through the crowd and the Cunningham twins rose to their feet, their breasts both bare, both perfect and firm with youth, and so lovely and identical. "It's as we told you," the twin with the shorter hair cried. "Mark taught our family to love each other unconditionally."

"We have to love each other," the other answered. "Follow our example and obey our god."

Rose grabbed Daisy, and the twin girls kissed passionately, their naked breasts pressed tight, their arms entwining about each other's bodies in incestuous passion. The sight of it took my breath away as the twin sisters loved each other.

A groan went through the crowd as everyone watched the twins kiss. And then they copied, obeyed. People grabbed each other, hugging and kissing, following the twin girls' examples. Men kissed women and women kissed women. Mothers kissed daughters and sons kissed mothers. Brothers kissed sisters and daughters kissed fathers.

Nothing was taboo if it was consensual.

Mary stepped out of the car, giving me an uncertain look. I saw the question in her eyes: Why are you allowing this, Mark? And then another wave of shouts rose from the crowd, "My Goddess!" and, "The most Beautiful of Women!"

They loved her. As she stood next to me, she shuddered at the wave of adoration coming from the crowd. It was love. Pure, unadulterated love. Nothing was more loving than worship. I drank it in along with Mary. She took my hand as they chanted her name.

A Black woman knelt before her. "Let me pleasure you, my Goddess!"

Clothing flew off as the worshipers' passions increased. Several with instruments begin playing a low, primal beat. Deep drums accompanied by steel-string guitars. Everywhere you looked, people were loving each other, worshiping us with their bodies. Some bowed before us, baring breasts and begging for our blessing while others followed Daisy and Rose's example, sixty-nining or even fucking right there on the street as the media watched.

"My daughter and I want to worship you," an older woman gasped, leading her eighteen-year-old daughter forward. They looked so similar, the same tawny hair, the same delicate cheeks, but the mother had fuller lips and bigger breasts, while the daughter had the smooth, fresh skin of youth and tits that seemed to defy gravity.

"Please, sir," the daughter said, cupping her breasts.

"Yes," I groaned. "Worship me. Worship your god."

They both shuddered when I said those words. I gripped Mary's hand as mother and daughter fell to their knees and attacked my cock. Their tongues licked up the tip until they reached the crown, swirling and brushing each other. I groaned, my heart pounding faster and faster. I couldn't believe this was happening.

They kissed each other around the head of my cock, their tongues caressing each other. I gripped both their hairs and moaned as they took turns sucking my cock into their mouths. One after the other, sucking, nibbling, teasing me.

"That's how you worship your god," I groaned, staring at the orgy. The Cunningham twins devoured each other's pussies, gasping and moaning. A young man fucked what looked like his busty mother, her tits jiggling from the vigor of his thrusts. Another woman sucked one cock while a second fucked her from behind.

Mary clutched my hand hard. I glanced at her as I savored the mother and daughter's lips nibbling on my dick. My fiancee leaned against 51's cop car as the Black woman devoured her pussy. My naughty filly's face crested with pleasure.

I watched her lips as she moaned, her voice drowned out by the worshipers. Her body convulsed as she orgasmed. The Black woman looked so happy when her face came away sticky. Immediately, another worshiper--a Black, young man--grabbed the woman. They kissed, then the young man mounted her and fucked her with his cock.

Was he her son? Or was he a complete stranger?

"Shit," I groaned, my head swimming. So much sex. So many gasps and moans. Cum spurted from dicks, painting heaving bodies. Women licked jizz from other sluts' tits. Men rammed cocks into holes.

My dick ached as the mother sucked on the tip. Her daughter nuzzled at my balls with her sweet mouth. I groaned, my nuts tightening. It was all so exciting. There was no holding back my orgasm. All these people fucking because of us, worshiping us with sex.

The world swam as my dick erupted.

I flooded the mother's mouth with my cum. Each blast sent shuddering bliss through me. I added my moans to the worshipers, clutching Mary's hand as my follower drank my cum, her eyes shining with joy.

She ripped her mouth from my dick, cheeks bulging with my jizz. My dick spurted a final time, splashing onto her large breasts and neck. A look of ecstasy painted her face as my spunk ran thickly down her heaving bosom. Her daughter released my balls and scooped up a glob of cum off her mother's breast. She brought it reverently to her lips. Then they kissed, snowballing my cum as other women swarmed them, wanting to eat my seed.