The Devil's Pact Pt. 39

That's not important, she sent back, a hint of guilt in her thought.

How many? I pressed, savoring Irene's bowels sliding about my dick.

Six, she answered weakly. I got sidetracked.

That's my naughty filly!

Fine, we both have to heal ten children before indulging again. Okay, my horny stallion?

Sure, Mare. Love ya.

Love you, too.

As I plowed Irene's ass, I wondered whom my wife had fucked? A hot MILF with large tits? A barely legal virgin? Maybe it was a guy. An image of Mary riding another man's cock floated up in my mind. Her perky breasts, swollen with her pregnancy, bouncing up and down, sweat rolling down her cute baby bump--she had just entered her second trimester and was starting to show. There was something exciting about watching your wife be another man's whore. A perverse thrill that rippled through you.

I wondered if she felt the same when she watched me fuck another woman?

"Fuck!" I groaned. Thinking of my wife with another man sent my balls into overdrive.

Cum erupted from my dick. I creamed Irene's ass. I grunted, driving my spurting cock into the depths of her bowels. She shivered, feeling the cum spilling in me, then moaned into her daughter's pussy like a good whore, her asshole massaging my cock.

I savored the MILF's cumming flesh as her bowels milked every drop of cum from my dick. Pleasure burned through my veins. I groaned, gripping her hips. The final spurt spasmed my body, ecstasy lifting my mind high.

And then I crashed.

Still hard, I pulled out my dick and slapped her butt. "It's your husband's turn. Be a good, little whore for him."

Irene looked up from her daughter's cunt, sticky with her juices, and smiled. "Absolutely, my Lord!"

I glanced at her husband as I moved to the bed. "She's all lubed for you."

"Thank you, my God," he groaned, moving to his wife.

Jenny's eyes widened as they fell on my dirty cock as I mounted the bed. In the background, Irene moaned as her husband buried his cock into her sloppy ass. I climbed onto the virgin girl, bent down and nipped at her bite-sized nipples.

They were so delicious to chew on. I made the girl mewl and purr as I went back and forth between them. The sounds she made excited my dick, eager to bury in her untouched depths. I swirled my tongue around her nipples, nibbled on them, loving how she gasped.

Then I licked up her sweaty neck, savoring the salty flavor, and kissed her lips. Her lips were sluggish, unsure. I realized she had never kissed before. Another first I claimed. Her lips tasted as sweet as an ice tea on a hot summer day. But they remained stiff.

I broke it, nuzzling to her ear. "Relax," I whispered. "Relax, my little slut."

Instantly, the tension melted out of her.

"Okay," she moaned.

I kissed her again. Her tongue brushed my lips and her legs spread wantonly for me. I slid between her thighs, kissing her harder, loving her trembling beneath me, her body so lithe and nubile. Just turned eighteen and still virginal.

I loved being a god.

I guided my cock, still dirty from her mother's ass, to her virgin hole. I would soil her pure depths. She shivered as I rubbed the tip on her tight slit, enjoying the feel of her silky pubes on my dick's head. I slid lower, finding the hymen covering the entrance of her body.

She didn't tense, not with my command upon her. She stayed reflex as I pressed on her maidenhead.

"My Lord!" she gasped when I thrust, popping her cherry.

I loved popping a girl's cherry. Women who were of age and still had hymens were just so rare. I savored my dick sliding into her hot, silky depths. Her now-soiled sheath clenched on my dick as I bottomed out in her, stretching her hole with my girth.

"Holy shit!" she gasped. Her cunt squeezed like a vice on my cock. "Holy fucking shit!"

"Language!" snapped her dad as he reamed her mom's ass behind us, flesh slapping flesh, Irene grunting.

"Holy shit, holy shit!" Jenny kept screaming as I drew back my dick through her silky pussy's depths. Her eyes and cunt squeezed tightly as I thrust in. "Oh my fucking shit!"

"Language, young lady! That's your last warning!"

"You mind your father," Irene panted. "Mmm, go a little harder, Ernie! Crud, why didn't we do this sooner?"

"Yeah," he grunted.

Jenny, however, didn't care about her parents' warning. She thrashed and bucked, her once virginal pussy spasming with wanton passion around my dick. I groaned, her innocent flesh cleaning my dick of her mother's ass as I pumped in and out of her pussy.

Behind me, the parents shared a sloppy kiss, and then the wife purred, "That's your daughter's sweet pussy you're tasting."

"Shit," he moaned.

"Language, dad!" Jenny exclaimed, bucking beneath me.

"I want to watch you make love to our daughter," Irene moaned, voice so throaty. "And then I'll lick her all nice and clean!"

"Holy shi... shoot!" Ernie gasped. I was pretty sure he just blew his load.

Jenny gasped and clutched me tightly, thrusting her hips to meet my stroke. Incestuous passion burned through the air. It was so hot hearing the parents talk about fucking their daughter. I couldn't wait until my daughter with Mary, or one of the pregnant sluts, came of age. I wanted that thrill, to pop her cherry, to make love to her like Jenny's dad would to her.

My balls boiled. I pounded her tight cunt hard, savoring how delicious she felt sliding along my thrusting dick. Every plunge felt like sinking into a soft, juicy peach. She gasped and moaned, her orgasm rippling through her.

"My Lord!" she gasped, her fingernails raking my back and she came again. Her orgasm exploded quick and fast, like a tiny firecracker.

And her tight cunt milked my cock. Such rapture shudder through me as I rammed my dick over and over into her silky depths. Her small nipples rubbed on my chest as she squirmed and moaned, eager for my cum to spurt into her depths.

The hospital bed creaked. Their parents watched, seeing their daughter servicing their god like the whore her hot body promised she'd be. She'd want sex all the time. From her father, her mother, any cute boys, or girls, at her school. This pussy would give so much pleasure.

And I broke her in.

"Fucking whore!" I grunted. "Your cunt's fucking tight! Goddamn I love barely legal pussy! I'm going to flood you."

"Yes!" she hissed. "Cum in me, my Lord! Use my pussy! My cunt! Do whatever you want to me!"

Her worship shuddered through me, another orgasm detonating in her hot pussy. I groaned, burying into her spasming flesh. My balls boiled over. Rapture fired from my cock, spurting into her hot depths.

I bucked atop her as the pleasure peaked through me. Her hot pussy milked out the last of my cum. She beamed up at me, her face flushed, her lips wet. She kissed me hard, with such enthusiasm, her body still quivering as her orgasm rippled through her.

Then she fell back, satiated.

I pulled my cock out of her, leaving her legs spread wide, looking so obscene. My cum dripping pink out of her deflowered cunt. My dick twitched, wanting to have another round with the little whore. But Mary's words echoed in my head.

And I felt 51's eyes on me from the doorway. Mary had sent word to her.

"Thank you, my Lord," Jenny whispered. "For healing me. And for... you know."

I bent down and gave her another kiss, savoring the sweetness of those lips. "You'll always remember the day you fucked a God."

"I will," she smiled, a tear glistening in her eyes. "You gave me back my life." Her arms wrapped around me, and then her tears soaked my neck. Her body shuddered.

I held her for a few minutes, rocking her. I stroked her back. I wanted to protect her, to banish her tears. I wondered if I'd feel this desire with my own daughter. Was this a preview of my future? If so, I liked it. Though she cried, they were tears of joy.

Tears I gave her.

As they slowed, I pulled away, stroking her face. "Why don't you show your parents how much you love them. Eat your mother's ass out and let your daddy try out your cunt."

"I will," she smiled, sniffing.

I stood, straitening my suit, and walked out, followed by my bodyguards. The hospital brimmed with the bodyguards while outside a company of the Legion--about 130 soldiers bound by the Ragily prayer--guarded the perimeter. If it sounded like overkill, I didn't care. I took no chances. Not with the damned Patriots out there.

"Okay, who's next?" I asked Xiu.

She glanced down at her clipboard, Nurse Karishma hugging her from behind, lips sticky with pussy. "It's--"

"Spectre! Spectre! Spectre!" a voice suddenly crackled on 51's radio.

A clammy cold seized my heart. Ice rippled across my skin as I whirled to my chief bodyguard. The other women, all beautiful, went alert, sidearms drawn or assault rifles aimed, forming a tightening ring around me.

With a thought, I summoned my Celestial gold sword and armor. Golden light burst around me, the familiar weight of the metal armor wreathing my body. Thanks to the Gift, I had the powers of a monk. Heaven's powers to fight evil. I held my sword, curved like a katana, in a low grip.

"Where?" I demanded at 51.

"51 to all units, sitrep," 51 said into the radio, the Black woman standing calm, unflappable.

Gunfire erupted outside.

Chapter Three

Xiu and I were lying in Their rumpled bed, Divine Mark's passion cooling inside me and Divine Mary's passion covering Xiu's face, when He proclaimed the First Commandment of the Theocracy: "You shall not make Pacts with Demons." I wrote furiously on a notepad; then She gave the Second Commandment: "You shall place no Gods before us, for they are false."

--The Gospel of April 41:51-52

Mary Glassner

"Let's go, Ma'am," a bodyguard shouted, seizing my arm and pulling me out of the hospital room, leaving behind the mother cradling her newly healed baby.

"What?" I demanded as the bodyguard manhandled me into the hallway. Violet and April had pale faces as my protection closed in around us. "What is going on?"

"Spectre, Mistress," Violet moaned as the ring of bodyguards forced us down the hallway.

I gripped my pregnant belly, just starting to become round with my child. My heart beat so fast. The damned Patriots again. We were healing children! Didn't those monsters care? Or was killing us worth these poor children suffering?

I hated them.

I ran with the bodyguards through the hallways. They all had their weapons out, handguns or assault rifles, their eyes sweeping the hospital hallways. Each of their guns was loaded with bronze bullets inscribed with spells by Candy. It took delicate, time-consuming work to make a single round. You could often hear Candy's frustrated curses echo out of Sam's suite. But they were needed since normal bullets were ineffective against spiritual entities like demons or Lilith's foul offspring.

And that was important right now.

"Spectre" was the codename for a demon attack. In the last week, the Patriots had tried a new strategy: summoning lesser demons and sending them after Mark and me. They rarely got past the Legion. But it still terrified me.

Thunder cracked outside. No, not thunder, but the booming of automatic gunfire. The Legion engaged the lesser demons. They weren't fallen angels like Molech and Lucifer. Or even powerful human souls like Lilith. Lesser demons were the souls of regular men and women twisted by their eons-long imprisonment in Hell, tortured and twisted into soldiers by the Powers of Abyss to fight their never-ending wars.

I gritted my teeth, anger boiling up at the Patriots. They were growing more and more bold. Innocent people would get hurt in these attacks. The sooner the Matmown was finished, the sooner we could make our plans against the Patriots and Lilith without fear of them spying on us from the Shadows.

And against Lucifer. I tried not to think about that, afraid the Devil would read my thoughts.

We rounded a corner as another barrage of gunfire exploded. Mark stood at the end of the hallway, at the heart of his own ring of bodyguards. He looked so gallant in his golden armor, his sword raised. The ring of bodyguards around him wasn't as tight, leaving him room to fight.

Radios crackled around me, squeaking with excitement.

"All clear," 51 reported from the hallway. "Spectre neutralized."

"Good," I sighed, slowing to a walk. Mark's eyes flashed up the hallway, giving me a tight nod.

"These attacks were so pointless," I said to my husband, disgust thick in my voice. "The demons are always outclassed."

Thanks to his Ragily prayer, the Legion weapons were enchanted to hurt demonic flesh without the bullets the bodyguards had to employ. So the demons never stood a chance against such firepower. It was utterly pointless.

"I know," Mark said, his shoulders relaxing

51, standing at his side, turned, drawing her gun to point up at the ceiling.

I gasped as Mark spun, raising his weapon. My heart clenched as smoke billowed out of a ventilation grate. The lesser demon materialized into a solid form before my husband, swinging claws at his face.

"Mark!" I shouted in fright as the lucifugi, a demon of night, tried to kill my husband. The thing's body resembled black smoke, wavering beneath the hallway's florescent lights, as its brutal attack swept at Mark.

But my husband raised his arm, blocking the swipe easily on his armor's vambrace. Then he sent a quick slash with his sword. The blade hissed, gleaming like liquid sunlight, and parted the demon's head from its body.

I staggered, letting out the breath I had held as the creature fell into smoky pieces on the hospital floor. Black steam rose as the pieces boiled apart. Mark stayed tense, his head moving like the other bodyguards.

My head echoed with a single, fearful thought: if the lucifugi had attacked just a second earlier, it would have caught Mark off-guard. But 51 alerted him.

My skin crawled, noticing other vents in the ceiling. I tried to remember the training I had in the dreams, breathing in deeply, forcing myself to act, not to let fear cause me to react. The bodyguards stayed tense.

"Maybe this attack was smart, Mark," I said. Talking was easier than doing nothing. "Sending a decoy to attack the Legion, while a lone demon slipped in." I should have a gun. Then I could help defend everything.

"Fucking Patriots," Mark muttered.

"We need to do something about them," I growled.

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

Mark Glassner

The rest of the day passed without incident. The Patriots had gambled on the lucifugi catching me unaware. We kept up a guard, but we weren't about to stop healing the children. Between us, we restored sixty-one sick children to full health. We gathered out in front of the hospital with all the children so the photographers and news crews could record our benevolence.

It helped to cement our grasp on the U.S. and garner sympathies worldwide.

We extensively used the media to get as many people enthralled to us, and took other steps to get people under our power. We coordinated broadcasts with prisons around the U.S., commanding the inmates to obey the laws and to help improve their communities. Then we released them. Everyday, federal government offices across the country would hold live teleconferences with us, and it was mandatory that all their employees watch. We had seventy percent of the federal government's employees under our power. Those that refused to come to work on the broadcast days were fired, their names given to the NSA to be monitored.

Our control spread across the U.S. borders into Canada and Mexico as well, and even overseas to parts of Europe. It wasn't going nearly so well in Asia and the Middle East, where the governments were cracking down on our followers. Ruthless means were employed to stop the spread of my commands by shutting down their countries' access to the internet and stopping local TV from carrying any foreign broadcasts.

And that didn't even count the Warlocks sprouting like weeds across the world, causing all sorts of problems. Some were emulating me, though on a smaller scale, taking over parts of Africa and South America. Others were just doing what they pleased, forming harems of women, or men. Some were killing indiscriminately, and others were taking revenge on those who had slighted them in the past.

Two weeks ago, I had stood before the world and delivered the First Commandment of our Theocracy: "You shall not make Pacts with Demons," I said, staring into the cameras, strong, resolute. I no longer felt nervous before them. I felt in control. Mary stood at my side, looking regal as always. "That's why I ordered the President to sign the Anti-Warlock Act."

Mary nodded her head, her auburn hair almost glowing like flames beneath the light. "Anyone who made a Pact with a demon, including Lucifer, is required to turn themselves in to be exorcised and will be pardoned for their mistake. We are merciful and loving gods, but pacts with the darkness will only lead to disaster."

I fixed a steely gaze at the camera. "If you do not turn yourself in, when you are found, you will be executed. The darkness cannot be allowed to spread."

Any Warlocks who heard our announcement would turn themselves in, but none did. The Warlocks understood our powers' reach and took steps to avoid being snared. Not even after we had executed a few of the easy-to-find Warlocks on national TV had motivated any to accept our amnesty.

But they were too powerful to be allowed to roam free. They could do what Mary and I were doing. We couldn't allow that to happen.

After our pictures were taken before the hospital, we climbed into the limo. "We did good today," Mary whispered, nuzzling against my shoulder. "Didn't we?"

"We did good," I told her, holding my wife as she closed her eyes. "We're doing more good than harm."

She relaxed, closing her eyes. She fell asleep on my shoulder before our limo reached the airport. Healing took energy, and Mary's pool of bound people to draw on was smaller than mine. As she dozed, I rested my other hand on her pregnant stomach, feeling her baby bump. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of my wife, the scent of her coconut shampoo masking a hint of sweat.

I felt the exhaustion, too. Forty-three children healed. Saved. That had to balance five warlocks beheaded.

"Sir," 51 whispered, shaking my knee. "We're here."

I blinked, opening my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. Mary still leaned against me. I kissed her forehead and shook her.

She squirmed, then opened her emerald eyes. "Are we at the airport?"

"Yeah, Mare."

Air Force One awaited us. And the media. No matter how tired we were, we put on our regal personas as we stepped out of the limo. It wouldn't do for the masses to learn that we were just regular people who felt something as mundane as exhaustion. Reporters yelled questions, asking about the latest Patriots attack.

"The Patriots claimed today's attack was retribution for the Governor Mansion Massacre," one reporter shouted.

I froze, anger flooding into me, followed by guilt. Mary's arm wrapped around my waist and gave me a comforting squeeze. When I ordered General Olmos to take care of the Governor of Texas when he seceded last month, I didn't mean for him to execute the man on national television. Or to order his soldiers to massacre a peaceful gathering.

"That was a zealous individual acting on his own," I answered evenly. "As I said before, the Patriots will use whatever flimsy excuse they can to justify their terrorism."

"If we had sanctioned the attack, we wouldn't have ordered General Olmos's execution for murder, would we?" Mary asked the media, her tone gentle and patient--a mother lecturing her children. "If we are the monsters the Patriots claim, then why do we spend one day a week healing sick children? We love all of you, even our wayward Patriots."