The Devil's Pact Pt. 43

But another part of me wanted to have a wicked time with Grandfather.

I entered my bedroom and found the outfit that Lillian had helped me procure. "They're quite hard to find these days," she had said to me two days ago. "Have fun!"

I dressed, my excitement building and building as I drew on each article of clothing, transforming myself into something that looked even younger than I had appeared. I trembled, smoothing the skirt, waiting for my grandfather to enter.

A few minutes later, my body trembling, a knock rapped on my door. I told him to enter and tensed, hoping would love my outfit, love me. My heart beat faster and faster in my chest as his eyes fell on me.

They widened. A smile broadened his face.

"My sweet Chase, how beautiful you are," he groaned, his eyes raking my body.

Delight exploded in me. I let out a girlish giggle, feeling so wanton and wicked. I plucked at the skirt and purred, "I heard you like naughty schoolgirls."

"Yes," he groaned. "God, Chase, you are gorgeous."

I beamed at him, shifting my hips. I wore a white, button-down blouse tied below my breasts, which left my flat stomach exposed. A green-and-blue tartan skirt fell in pleated folds down to my upper thighs. The knee-high, white socks completed the wicked look. I had my auburn hair in a ponytail hanging over my left shoulder to add a splash of color on the white blouse.

He ran a hand through his red hair streaked with gray as he drank in the sight of me. My nipples ached and my pussy clenched. He loved it. I could see the hungry passion in his eyes. His cock hardened before him.

He cupped my chin and stared into my blue eyes. "I love naughty schoolgirls." His hand slid down and found my breast. He squeezed me through the blouse, his finger brushing my nipple; a naughty tingle raced down to my cunt. "You've been such a bad girl, haven't you?"

"I have," I purred.

"Bad girls need to be disciplined."

I blinked in surprise. Disciplined? Did he want to spank me? Mother liked to spank the sluts and maids when they were "naughty." A tingle raced through my pussy. And Grandfather was just so sexy, this older, confident man who made me feel so womanly as he drew me to the bed.

I didn't resist when he sat down on the bed and pulled me over his lap. I shivered, my butt-cheeks clenching as I squirmed atop him, feeling his hardon beneath my stomach. I whimpered as he drew up my skirt.

"Naughty slut, no panties," he groaned, rubbing his hands roughly across my exposed rump.

"I forgot them," I said, trying to sound scared and innocent.

Grandfather's cock bulged beneath me. He liked it. He wanted me to act so vulnerable and innocent. I whimpered and squirmed more, rubbing my belly against his erection. My pussy grew hotter and hotter.

"I'm sorry for being such a bad girl, Grandpa," I whimpered. "Please, please, don't spank me."

"But bad girls have to be spanked," he said, giving my rump a squeeze. "They have to learn their lessons."

His hand rose for my ass.

CRACK!

Stinging agony melted through my ass. I bucked as the air rang with the meaty smack, yelping in pain. My pussy clenched. I couldn't believe how naughty it made me feel. How it made my cunt tingle and itch even more. He was just so strong. So in charge right now. He could do anything to me.

"You are such a bad little girl!" he groaned.

SMACK!

"So bad!"

CRACK!

"Oh, I'm so bad," I whimpered, loving this.

SMACK!

I groaned and shuddered on his lap. I blinked, then realized his hand still rested on my burning rump. I let out a soft sigh as he massaged my flesh, soothing the hurt and building a fire inside me. I closed my eyes, melting inside and--

CRACK!

He spanked me even harder. Juices leaked out of my cunt and trickled down my thighs. I squirmed, eager for the next strike. I felt so naughty. So wanton. This felt so right to be over my grandfather's lap.

"Ooh, spank me, Grandfather!" I moaned. "Punish me!"

SMACK!

My bottom quivered. The pain went straight to my clit, feeding my fires.

CRACK!

He kept spanking me

SMACK!

I writhed on his lap

CRACK!

I rubbed my clit into his thigh. The heat melted into my cunt. It made my pussy drip. I whimpered and groaned, my orgasm building and building in me just from being punished. I was such a naughty schoolgirl. So wanton and whorish.

His next smack didn't land on my ass.

SMACK!

The wet sound echoed as his hand cracked right on my cunt.

"Grandfather!" I howled, my body bucking. Pain and pleasure shot to the core of my pussy.

And detonated my pleasure. My orgasm exploded through me. I spasmed on his lap, juices gushing out of my cunt and bathing his hand rubbing at my burning labia. Waves of rapture washed through my body as agony transformed into ecstasy.

"Yes, yes!" I screamed. "I'm so bad!"

"So bad," he growled, rubbing my cunt.

CRACK!

The second spanking on my pussy sent another orgasm bursting through me. I gasped, stars twinkling across my vision. My body bucked hard, my belly rubbing into his hard cock. My whimpers and moans filled the air as his palm rubbed my burning twat, my clit throbbing from the punishment.

"What a whorish girl you are!" he growled. "I'm going to need to use my rod to punish you!"

"Punish me with your thick rod, sir!" I howled, my body wracked with orgasms. They rippled through me.

He threw me down on my bed, shoved a pillow underneath my stomach, and knelt behind me. I heard his pants unzip; his cock smacked my plump, smarting ass-cheek. More pain rippled through me. My nipples ached against my thin, white blouse. I wiggled and moaned in wanton need.

"Little sluts like you need a hard rod to keep you in line!" he groaned

"Yes!" I cried out as his cock smacked my pussy, the wet sound echoing.

He rammed his cock into me. My grandfather's cock filled my juicy pussy still spasming from my orgasms. Waves of pleasure rippled through my flesh. I squirmed, impaled on his dick. He was almost as big as Father. He leaned over me, his groin pressing into my burning rump.

"Fuck me! Pound my little snatch!" I gasped, squeezing my snatch around his cock. "Punish me, sir!"

"Yes!" he snarled and drew back his dick through my pussy.

My eyes squeezed shut as he slammed his cock into me. The friction of his shaft sliding through my pussy met the stinging smack of his groin hitting my spanked ass. I whimpered, the bed creaking as he pounded me. The two delights merged through me, pain and pleasure mixing, swirling, building another orgasm in me.

The angle of his thrusts let him drive his cock deep into me. The tip rubbing down the top of my pussy and brushed my G-spot over and over. I quivered, the pleasure building so fast in me. I still brimmed with delight from my last two orgasms. I didn't need much to cum again.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I howled as another orgasm rippled through my pussy, my cunt spasming about his hard cock

"You fucking whore!" he groaned. "You came already?"

"Your tool feels so good!" I panted. "I'm just that wanton."

He groaned, thrusting so hard into me. He rammed his dick into my snatch and growled, "It's supposed to be a punishment!"

"Sorry, sir!" I moaned, my mind buffeted by the waves of ecstasy washing out of my cunt.

"I think a different hole needs to be reamed by my cock now!" he growled as he plundered my pussy.

"Mmm, I couldn't agree more, sir!"

He ripped his dick out of my convulsing pussy. I whimpered, feeling so empty. I needed to be filled. Then his hands pried apart my burning butt-cheeks, fingers pressing into my punished flesh. I groaned, my sphincter clenching.

His cock pressed against my puckered hole, wet with pussy juices.

He rammed forward. My cunt had lubed him well; he speared into my asshole with little resistance. My anal ring gobbled up his cock. I'd taken many cocks up my ass, my bowels broken in so well by Father. Grandfather's cock reached into my depths. His balls smacked my taint as his crotch spanked my ass.

I savored the velvety burning in my bowels and the stinging pain across my butt-cheeks.

Gasping in delight, I bucked my hips back into his thrusting cock. I savored how he filled up my bowels. His groin smacked into my pillowy ass-cheeks over and over. The stinging pain shot through me. I anticipated each thudding impact, squeezing my asshole about his cock as he plunged into my depths.

"Fuck my ass!" I chanted. "Fuck me! Fuck my naughty, schoolgirl ass, Grandpa!"

"Yes, such a tight, hot ass," he growled. "Ooh, you love it, you little whore."

"Your whore, Grandpa!"

He fucked me so hard. I whimpered and shoved my right hand between me and the pillow. My questing fingers found my hard clit. I stroked my pleasure button. My digits massaged it. I whimpered, the new delight mixing with the pain and pleasure Grandfather churned in my ass.

My eyes fluttered as Grandfather pounded my asshole. He stirred up my pleasure as I struck sparks on my clit. I whimpered into the bed, wiggling my hips, stirring his dick around in my bowels. The slap of flesh merged with our gasps and groans.

"I love your ass, Chase!" he moaned. "My beautiful granddaughter! You look so much like your mother. There's even a bit of your grandmother in your face!"

I frigged my clit, pushing hard on the sensitive nub, so close to cumming. "Fuck me harder, Grandfather!" I shouted. "I need to cum!

He slapped my ass, stinging pain shooting to my pussy. Then he hunched over me and pistoned his cock rapidly in and out of my ass. Shivers of pleasure burst through me. Every thrust swelled another climax in my cunt.

I pinched my clit.

I cried out in wordless rapture as my orgasm shot through me. The pleasure electrified my body. I spasmed beneath him, the current zapping into my brain. My thoughts lit up with ecstasy. It felt so incredible as my juices gushed out of my cunt.

My ass milked his cock, transmitting my pleasure to him. My bowels writhed and spasmed on his amazing, thrusting cock. He hammered me so hard. His thrusts kept my orgasm alive, sparking new storms of rapture through my body.

"Grandpa!" I howled. "Cum in me! Please, please, spill your spunk into my cunt!"

"Yes!" he snarled and buried his cock to the hilt in my bowels.

His cum erupted into me. He flooded my ass. I whimpered, drinking in the delight, my orgasm carrying me to new heights. My entire body spasmed as he grunted. My asshole milked his dick dry of all his cum.

"Chase," he groaned and collapsed atop me.

I shuddered as his arms wrapped around me. He rolled us onto our side. He held me so tight, spooning for a while. I stroked his arm as we caught our breaths. I felt so warm, so safe, in his embrace as his cock softened. He nuzzled and kissed at my cheek as we came down from our orgasmic highs. I drifted for a few minutes through buzzing passion.

"I love you, Grandpa," I sighed.

"I love you, too." The bed creaked as he sat up. I rolled onto my back, his cum leaking out of my asshole, and watched him pick up a rectangular present bound in colorful paper. I hadn't noticed him bring it in with him and...

It was a book!

A giddy thrill ran through me as I sat up.

"Happy birthday, Chase," he said and handed it over to me.

I took it with eager excitement and ripped open the package. The book was old, the pages yellowing. I've always wanted to have a new book, but none were published these days. Well, not the story kind, anyway. The Living Church encouraged its worshipers to only read from the Account of the Gods, the collection of holy scriptures written by various bishops and sluts, or other officially sanctioned books used to educate children.

I glanced at the cover. On Liberty by John Stuart Mill.

"Let this be our little secret," Grandfather said. "I don't think your parents would approve of this one."

I clutched the book to my chest, eager to have this secret with my grandfather.

Chapter Three

But a small flame still burned. A single light, little more than a gutter candle, flickered against the Tyrants' darkness. All it needed was fuel.

--excerpt from The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy, by Tina Allard

Chasity "Chase" Alberta Glassner

The book opened my eyes.

Everything John Stuart Mills wrote about contradicted the teachings of the Church and the way my parents had cultivated humanity. The book taught that men should be free to act as they will, so long as their actions did not unduly harm another. But Theocracy taught that men must obey the will of the Living Gods and their earthly representatives without question or hesitation.

Why would Grandfather give me this book? I tried to ignore it. It couldn't be saying what my parents did was wrong. But it lingered in my mind. It nibbled in the back of my thoughts while I was trying to sleep or crept upon me as I lay panting after making love.

A month later, right after Silas married Andrea and Delilah, I embarked on a tour of various parts of the world to let the citizens see their Goddess and know that they were loved. On Liberty stuck with me. I couldn't see the world the same way any longer. It opened my eyes to the oppression of the Theocracy.

When the demons escaped Hell, many cities had been destroyed and many lives lost. Much of the world had to be rebuilt. There was a sameness to everything now. There seemed to be only a dozen different plans for houses; neighborhoods in rebuilt Paris looked the same as ones in Jerusalem. Government buildings were built to the exact same plan, laid out in squares with each building resting at the same spot in relation to the others. The same statues dotted parks and the same fountains were the centerpieces of squares. The only things beautiful or original were the monuments and buildings that had survived the Demon Wars.

My parents had approved the new building plans, and no one had either the daring or the desire to build something different.

Even the citizens were all the same. Sure they had different skin colors, different facial features, but they were identical. Farmers wore the same roughspun garb; miners dressed in leather jackets and orange helmets; nurses in their low-cut, white dresses. They all smiled and talked to each other politely. And they all stared at me in awe. Every last person was under my parents' powers, ordered to love their neighbors, to obey the laws, and to never harm another human.

There was no culture. Nor diversity.

There was no humanity.

The citizens were happy and healthy. They had food and shelter. But they were slaves, even if their manacles were invisible.

Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, John Stuart Mill had written almost two hundred years ago, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing.

I was horrified and, when I returned home, I foolishly expected my parents to see the error of their ways when I carefully explained it to them. We sat at dinner, served by scantily clad maids. Supposedly, the maids and other servants were all volunteers, but was that true? How could they not volunteer when they were told to obey their Gods and love them and serve them in any way possible by the Church and my parents' weekly broadcasts.

"Don't you see what you've done?" I asked my parents when I finished. "While your actions were certainly laudable and well-meaning, they were still tyrannical. You've robbed the people of the world their most inalienable right: the liberty to make their own decisions.

"That's what you've done to them to end crime. You smothered all the uniqueness out of them. You've killed that spark inside of them that makes them human. They should be allowed to choose what their profession is or who they marry. They should have a say in what houses they live in, or even what style to build them in."

Mother stared in disbelief at me.

"She's your daughter," Father said and laughed.

Mother glared at him.

"You have to understand, Chase, we did it for their own good," Mother explained with the patient tone used on a child.

I grit my teeth.

"Choices just make things... difficult. It's better for them this way."

"Really? Why can't they make their own choices?" I demanded. "Why do they have to take the aptitude test and be assigned their jobs and their housing? Even their spouses are chosen for them. What's the harm in a little freedom?"

"Give a man an inch, and he'll take a foot," Father answered, his mirth fading away. "Humans do poorly with freedom."

"And that's why you won't let them choose their own spouses?" I shook my head. "What about love? About finding that special someone and choosing to be with them? Like you and Mom?"

"They're free to love," Mother answered, her expression softened. "They're assigned spouses based on personality and suitable genetic traits. But they're free to take any lover they want, or to be monogamous. We do not deny them their pleasures."

"And what if they hate their spouse?" I demanded.

"They won't," Father said. "When they're assigned their spouse, they're told that they will always love each other. We care about our followers, and only want the best for them. We order them to be happy, so they are."

I threw my hands up. "That's what I mean. You're taking away even the most intimate decision they can make!"

"What's the harm? They're happy." Mother fixed me with a hard look. "Our system makes all the decisions for them, leaving them free to enjoy their lives as they make the world a better place."

"But they don't live! They just exist. You've robbed them of free will, of what makes them human! Why not give them just a little freedom? What is so wrong about that?"

Father sighed. "Chase, do you know what the world was like before the Theocracy?"

"I've watched your movies."

My father's eyes became intense, the blues hardening into sapphires. "Those are fiction. Like the books you've read, the ones that have poisoned your mind. Before we imposed our Utopia, men had all the freedom they wanted, and what did they do with it?"

I shrugged, wilting beneath my father's gaze.

"Men were brutal beasts. Every day, thousands were murdered, raped, and abused. Mothers drowned their children because they inconvenienced their love lives. Husbands murdered their wives for insurance payouts. Children killed their parents for drug money. Companies sold products that killed and maimed, then covered up their crimes to maintain their profit margins. Dictators starved their people to suppress them while religious extremists butchered those they disagreed with on how to worship the same god. There is no depth to the evil and depravity that men and women can sink to."

"Thanks to us, people only die from accidents, old age, and illness," Mother added. "Children aren't abused. No one murders. No one hates. No one harm another."

"'That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant'," I quoted from On Liberty. "Just because someone might do something, or because you think you know better, is not a good enough reason to impose your will on them!" I slammed my fist into the table. "What gives you the right to make slaves of mankind?"

"We are Gods, Chase," Father said, his voice calm, imperious, and remote. He looked like a statue brought to life. "That gives us all the right."

I didn't have an answer to that. On Liberty didn't cover the ethics of an actual God, only temporal governments. My fiery certainty vanished. A nervous skitter shot through me. Father sounded so certain, so commanding, that I felt foolish for even challenging him.