The Devil's Pact Pt. 34

His harem grabbed me. I thrashed against the women as they pinned my arms to the ground. Others held my legs open and apart. I kicked one in the face. She screamed in pain and fell back, but others moved in, fingernails biting into my flesh as they held me down. Brandon's pants were off, his cock jutting out at me beneath his fat belly.

"I forgot just how small you were," I said with a bold grin. "After Mark's big dick, I'm not sure I'll even feel your little rope in me!"

He knelt over me, his thick thighs straddling my waist. I grit my teeth as his fat, disgusting body pressed atop me. "You'll feel my cock, whore!"

"I always hated having sex with you, panzon. There is nothing less appealing than a fat whale thrashing on top of you, gasping for breath as he tries to pump away with his little cock!"

"Cunt!" he snarled and slapped me.

My head rang. Everything went hazy for a moment. I shook my head, blinking, then felt a burning pain in my pussy as his cock forced its way in. I was dry; Brandon didn't seem to care. He just pumped away. I suppressed a groan, I wasn't about to let the bastard know just how much he was hurting me.

Looking up, his neck was right above me, his throat exposed.

I could bite him, maybe rip out his artery. Then this all would be over. I could save us all.

I would see mi Sirenita again.

Alison's carefree face, framed by her bubblegum-pink hair, flashed through my vision. With a snarl, I snapped my head forward and bit into his neck. Hard. Coppery blood flooded my mouth, driving me to bit harder. I dug my teeth deeper into his neck, searching for the artery.

He pulled away, roaring in pain. "Goddamn fucking whore!"

His left hand clutched at his bleeding throat. There was a bloody bite, but it wasn't deep enough. He raised his right fist up and slammed it into my face. The back of my head smacked into the hard concrete. My thoughts rang. Everything was fuzzy.

I was barely aware of Brandon pumping away inside me after that. The world swam drunkenly about me. My head lolled to the side. I stared at the knees of one of the women holding me down, a gray pebble stuck to her shin, dimpling the white flesh.

Then everything just faded away.

It was the pain that brought me back to conscious thoughts. My head split and there was a burning ache knifing into my pussy. I felt a crushing weight on top of me. I struggled to open my eyes and there was Brandon, his neck covered with a white bandage. He was still raping me. I felt raw and sore inside, and every thrust of his cock was agony.

"Mmm, you're not a bad fuck when you're unconscious," Brandon told me with glee. "If you want to wiggle about, though, that's all right."

I struggled to speak, but my head ached too much. The world swam again. Stars flared, light stabbed my eyes, and then darkness fell on me again. I didn't think I was out long when I swam back to consciousness. Brandon was still pumping away inside me when I woke up the second time. His face contorted in pleasure. Then I realized with a disgusted shudder that he was shooting his cum inside me.

"God, I love Viagra! Three times without rest," he smiled. "And I definitely feel like a fourth. What do you say, Desiree? Want to be on top, this time? My knees are killing me."

"I'd rather die, el de atras," I slurred.

"My Lord, sunset approaches," a man said. His voice was distant like it came from miles away even though I could see him standing right behind Brandon.

I moaned in relief as Brandon pulled out of me. He looked down at me, considering. "I can't have you looking all ugly," he said with a shake of his head. He bent down and muttered a word.

Heat flashed through me and a scarlet light seemed to envelop my body. The heat banished the pain, and the fuzz clouding my thoughts was burned away as he healed me. I no longer felt that rasping ache in my depths. No stabbing pain behind my eyes.

"Stand up, Desiree, I want you to see something."

I felt dirty as I stood up, his cum leaking out of my pussy. I wanted to throw up, to run and hide, but I wouldn't give my rapist any more satisfaction than I had to. Holding my head high, I followed him out into the exercise yard. While I had been lying senseless, the soldiers had made a bonfire in the center of the prison yard, lighting up the concrete walls and the huddled women as the sky darkened. The Mayor of Tacoma and his wife, Yoon, waited at the fire.

"You are familiar with the Magicks of the Witch of Endor?" Brandon asked.

I nodded my head.

"Well, it teaches a variety of ways to summon demons. They all will make Pacts with you. The only problem is...the cost. Most demons want your absolute worship and obedience to grant your wishes. While others will have you perform tasks that will seem innocuous, at first, but will actually lead to your downfall. There are only two demons who have fixed prices: Lucifer, whom Mark and I both have already dealt with, and Molech. Of course, Molech's prices are very demanding." Brandon held out his hand. "General Brooks."

One of the military men, older than the others, walked up and handed Brandon a long knife. The knife's blade glinted orange and yellow in the firelight as it flashed through the air. I jumped in shock as Brandon drove the knife into Mayor Bray's chest. The Mayor stared dumbfounded at the blade buried into his chest, the blood blossoming red through his shirt.

"My... Lord..." he asked, staring at Brandon, his face twisting in stunned betrayal.

Then General Brooks shoved the Mayor, and he fell into the fire. Yoon screamed and collapsed to her knees, crying as the flames engulfed her husband. His clothing burst alight. His mouth opened in a scream lost to the fire's crackle, eyes moving, finding his crying wife's before he went still.

"Molech, I give you this offering of noble blood," Brandon intoned at the fire. "Cloak yourself in coals and flames and appear before your humble supplicant!"

The fire popped and crackled around the burning mayor. And then the flames exploded upward, white hot and screaming, immolating the corpse. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the terrible noise, the sound of thousands and tens of thousands of voices crying out in eternal agony. The screams of Damnation itself.

Something moved in the flames, the white-hot tongues whipping around a swelling, dark bulk. I flinched and stumbled back as a hulking figure stepped out, snorting like a maddened bull. His skin was black as soot and covered in angry, red fissures that glowed with the being's inner flames. His eyes were coals flaring with hatred, and the air danced and shimmered about him. Smoke poured out of his nostrils and mouth with every snort. The bonfire abruptly died down and the terrible screaming stopped. The figure surveyed the crowd, and everyone retreated before his terrible gaze.

Everyone, except Brandon.

The air reeked of rotting eggs and ash, and when the demon spoke, his voice growled the roar of a furnace. "What do you wish of me, mortal?"

"Free Desiree from Mark's control," Brandon demanded.

I shuddered in fear as Molech's burning eyes fixed on me. I felt naked, exposed, as they peered into me, into my soul, leaving me feeling used. His gaze soiled me worst than Brandon's rapes. "Impossible. She is bound too tightly to him. What else, mortal?"

Disappointment flickered on Brandon's face. "Immortality, youth, and sexual stamina."

"I require nine hundred sacrifices," Molech answered grimly. "All women. If you fail to provide them to me, I shall take you as my sacrifice."

"Done," Brandon answered. The demon reached out and grabbed Brandon's arm. When he released it, an angry-red brand circled his limb. Grimacing in pain, Brandon pointed at the sobbing Mayor's wife. "Your first payment."

Molech smiled. I could feel the lust radiating off of him. Rising from his groin was a black, smoking cock. He reached down and grabbed Yoon. Her flesh shriveled where he touched her. She screamed in agony as he dragged her off into the prison. I fell to my knees, stomach heaving violently, acid burning my throat as the contents of my stomach emptied on the concert.

What sort of monster did I marry? Yoon's screams echoed from the prison.

"Desiree," Brandon said pleasantly when I finished vomiting. "If you don't start acting like a good, submissive wife, I will give you to Molech, and you can enjoy his tender embrace."

I shuddered in fear, looking up at Brandon.

He was younger now, looking like he was in his twenties. His clothes hung loosely on him, his balding hair had regrown, and his now too-large pants slipped off his waist, revealing a muscular, flat stomach. His cock hardened as Yoon still screamed in the background.

"When Molech is finished with the bitch, he will want his next woman," Brandon threatened. "Your choice, Desiree."

The woman's screams sent ice pumping through my veins. It hurt when Brandon raped me, but at least his cock wasn't burning coals. At least Brandon fucking me wouldn't kill me. Tears fell down my cheeks. I wanted to be strong. I did...

But I wanted to live, too.

My will snapped before the fear of Molech. Feeling like the most disgusting, lowest creature in the world I knelt in submission before my rapist. I knew what he wanted. I grabbed his cock, opened my mouth, and sucked it inside. I tried to look happy on the outside, to smile up at him, my cheeks stained with tears. I had to please him. I didn't want to be given to Molech.

"Good," Brandon purred, stroking my hair. "I'm so happy that you've finally realized your place, my love."

Inside, I cried. I was a filthy worm now, forever crawling in his muck.

Chapter Six

Even in death, we serve the Living Gods faithfully.

—The Epistle of Xiu 5:1

Mary Glassner - Osage Field, Kansas

I sat facing Sam across the hole, the air still warm even though the sun had set over an hour ago. Stars twinkled above, staring down at us as we prepared. I breathed in, smelling the fresh soil of the disturbed ground.

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. Nearby was the entrance to the Missile Silo we had converted into a survival bunker. Besides the SWAT officers and their families, we recruited the Blackwoods to be caretakers of the bunker itself. It was nice seeing Belinda and her eighteen-year-old daughter Cassie again. I remembered all the fun I had with Mark's jogging sluts last June. Along with them was Belinda's husband, Oscar, who immensely enjoyed having a wife and daughter as his personal sluts. Mother and daughter wore matching collars.

All the sluts, my family, and servants paced around the hole or stood in worried knots. Mark's mother and sister looked sick with worry, and the sluts all clung around Alison, encouraging the girl. They whispered that Desiree was safe and that she and Alison would be reunited. Rachel and Jacob, our accountants, held each other. Their wife, Leah, was our chauffeur and was with Mark when the attack happened. Images of our dead bodyguards were being shown on the news, along with Mark's beating. But there was no news on Leah or Violet.

I hoped that meant they escaped, but I feared that they were dead.

"Are we ready?" I demanded impatiently of Sam. Every minute we delayed was another minute that my husband was in danger.

"Yes," Sam answered. "Light it."

The hole was piled with brush and soaked in gasoline. Duncan lit a rag and tossed it into the pit. The fire had a greasy smell. A sickly, black smoke that burned my eyes rose up into the sky. Sam closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her plaything, Candy, sat next to her, holding her olive hand. Sam was our vizier. She understood all the magic better than anyone, even inventing a few spells and charms all on her own.

I had a plan. I would take a Nun's powers and exorcise Brandon. He wanted me. All of his broadcasts contained his threat to beat Mark until I turned myself in. He wanted to make me his slut, just like Mark had made his wife Desiree our slut. All I had to do was submit to his lusts and exorcise him, and then this would all be over.

But I needed to know one important fact—if Brandon had a sister, he could have cast the Mowdah spell. Then he'd be able to recognize my new aura. Right now, my aura was red, a Warlock's aura, but after I stole the Nun's Gift of the Spirit, my aura would turn bronze. Just like Mark's had when my mother gave her Gift to him. It was the aura of a Shaman.

The Magicks of the Witch of Endor spoke at great length on aura colors, including the Shaman's. I needed confirmation that my plan would work.

I needed necromancy.

"Spirits of the dead, I beseech you," Sam shouted out, holding her arms above the fire as she began the Naba ritual. It was supposed to be very dangerous. If you conjured the wrong spirit, one filled with violence or hatred, it could lash out and hurt the summoner. And since your life force sustained the summoning, it placed a great strain on you. If you maintained it too long, you could even die. "Appear before me. Rise once more from the grave and clothe yourself in smoke and fire. Appear and give us your counsel!"

I shivered as the energy flowed out of Sam. The earth rumbled beneath me. A silence fell upon the world. All the crickets chirping went silent. The wind stopped blowing. Everyone watching held their breath. Something approached.

And then the ground groaned in pain. The fire surged upward with a screaming roar. The heat was so intense it caused me to wince and slam my eyes shut in pain. My skin felt like it was about to blacken beneath the roaring inferno Sam had conjured. And my heart hammered in fear. Something had gone wrong, Sam had messed up and unleashed an inferno that was consuming us.

What should I do?

Then there was a great, moaning whoosh. The heat vanished.

The evening air no longer felt warm on my skin. A growing chill seeped up from the hole. Cold, clammy air caressed my naked body. I shivered, opening my eyes to witness a figure coalescing out of the thick, black smoke rising up from the depths of the earth.

From the depths of Hell.

The smoke swirled towards the coalescing shape, thickening it. A torso grew, sprouting arms and legs like tendrils from a vine. A dome appeared, swelling up into a head. The smoke kept rushing in like the suction from a tornado. The billowy figure grew more and more solid. The lines of a body appeared, legs grew firm and slim, hips narrowed, and the hint of a bosom formed. Wispy hair sprouted curly from the head and the features of the face grew more defined—a doll's face with plump lips.

My heart froze. I knew that face.

My eyes watered in grief as Karen spoke, "Hello, Mistress."

Her voice was soft, distant. Ethereal. It was like she was shouting from a thousand miles away, a million miles. Farther away than the Moon, the Sun, all the stars in the heavens. All of existence lay between us, a vast gulf that her voice was somehow just able to cross.

"Karen," my voice broke. Tears rolled wet down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Karen. Mark didn't know."

"Don't be sad, Mistress," Karen whispered. "It wasn't your fault or Master's. That vile creature tricked him. Tricked us all."

"Are you in pain? Does it hurt where you are?"

She smiled softly. "No, Mistress. Chasity and the others wait with me. We welcomed our sisters who fell today."

The memory of Chasity rising, drawing her Taser to save my life burned in my thoughts. "What are you waiting for?"

"Why for you and Master, of course. Even in death, we are yours. Always yours." Her gray, smoky hand reached out and cupped my face, wiping at my tears. "Master needs you. So how can I help?"

"Does Brandon Fitzsimmons have a sister?"

"No, just a brother."

Relief flooded through me. I knew about the brother, Brandon had killed him a few weeks ago, but I had to make sure he had no sisters who had escaped our research. My plan would work. "Is the Mother Superior at Rennes-le-Château?"

"She is, Mistress," Karen answered. "Alone and waiting for you."

My heart skipped a beat. "She's waiting for me?"

"For two thousand years she has waited for you, Mistress," Karen paused. "Momentous events are happening. Lucifer has driven his enemies from the field, and now he waits as his prison crumbles about him. Dark days lie ahead of you."

"I don't care. I just need to save Mark!"

"Sam is nearing the limits of her strength. Ask quickly!" Karen urged.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" I asked. "Something I haven't thought of?"

"Brandon has..." Sam screamed, loud and sudden, drowning out Karen's words. "...other."

"What did you say?" I asked as the smoke started to drift apart, the form vanishing into a billowing cloud that rose up to the heavens.

Karen was gone.

Sam collapsed on the ground, twitching, blood trickling from her nose. I should be concerned for her, but all I could think about were Karen's words. Brandon has what? An other? That didn't make sense. A mother, maybe? He somehow found the way to bind anyone that heard him speak with the Zimmah spell. Maybe it involved his mother somehow. A male Warlock needed to use his mother to bind someone. I frowned. No, that could not be right? His mother was dead. Our investigation into Brandon revealed that. It was why we didn't think of him as a threat.

Maybe she wasn't his biological mother? Was he adopted?

"Ma'am, the plane is fueled," Lynda, one of the pilots, said.

"Let's go," I said, pushing aside those questions. Mark was in too much danger to waste a second.

My mom caught my arm as I walked by her. "The Mother Superior is a legend. You heard Karen, she's waiting for you. Don't do this. She has faced far stronger Warlocks than you and prevailed."

"I have to, Mom," I said, shaking my arm from hers. "There is no other choice."

"Please, Mary," she begged.

I hugged her, savoring the feel of my mother's arms. I didn't want to let go. I wanted to stay in the safety of her arms. But I wasn't a child. "It will be okay. She's alone. I will have thirty armed men and women with me. I will be perfectly safe. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Mom whispered and kissed my cheek.

Then Dad engulfed me in his arms and kissed me on my forehead. "You can do it, Mary. I know you can. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad," I whispered, fighting back tears.

Sam was standing up, looking shaky as Candy held a cloth to Sam's bleeding nose. For a moment, I thought I saw anger in Candy's eyes as she helped Sam. I was about to say something when Missy ran up and hugged me fiercely.

"Good luck, Sis!" she said and kissed me on the lips.

"You watch out for Mom and Dad," I told her and ruffled her strawberry-blonde hair. I glanced back at Candy and saw only concern for Sam on her face. Did I even see any anger?

"You can count on me, Mary!" Missy exclaimed.

The sluts all hugged and kissed me. I was so scared. I didn't want to do this. But I had to. I took a deep breath. Resolve stiffened my spine. I would save him.

I marched to the waiting 747. I planned on taking all twenty-one of the bodyguards and the nine SWAT officers to France. It would leave all my loved ones unprotected, but none of that mattered if I couldn't save Mark in time. I took one last look at all our friends and family before the plane's hatch was closed. I walked to my seat and strapped in. My thoughts were full of worry over what Karen had tried to tell me. I focused, trying to remember how her lips were moving, trying to figure out what Sam's scream had drowned out.

I had a long flight to France to ponder it.

* * *

Lana Paquet-Holub - Seattle, WA