The Devil's Pact Pt. 27

"A miracle," another whispered.

"Praise God," a cop whispered.

"What are you...?" a fireman asked. "How did you...?"

"Tell me you got that! Tell me you were rolling film?" a woman demanded, her voice verging on hysterics. Debra from Q13 Fox, her microphone hanging loosely in her hand as she stared in wide-eyed amazement at me. "Tell me you to got that?"

"Holy shit, I got that," her cameraman answered, pointing is camera at me. "I got the scarlet light and everything. Holy fucking shit! That was unreal."

"This is unbelievable," Debra gasped. She touched her earpiece. "Tell me that was broadcasted?" She must be talking to the reporter in studio. "Tell me you all saw what just happened? Jesus, this is the news story of the century. A miracle happened and we caught it live."

I was about to object to Debra broadcasting me when I got a good look at the cul-de-sac. My heart stopped. It looked like a war zone.

Ambulances, fire trucks, and cop cars lined the street. And everywhere I looked there were people lying on the ground, some had paramedics working on them, others were covered by blankets. Houses and cars were shot up. Bullet casings glinted gold in the sunlight.

And blood. Dark blood pooling on pavement, splashed on the sides of houses, running down the fenders of cars.

I looked back at our house and gasped. Bullet holes ran along the front of the house, shattering windows. Our sluts were clustered on the porch watching me in amazement. A stretcher came out, carried by two firemen. I stared in stunned disbelief as they walked by carrying Xiu. My busty Xiu had a mass of bloody bandages on her stomach and looked so pale as they carried her to a waiting ambulance.

"What the hell happened here?" I whispered. I looked around, searching for my fiancee. The last thing I remembered was Alice shooting at me.

I didn't see her.

My heart constricted. I bolted to my feet, ignoring the awed looks and mutters as I scanned for Mary. Where was she? The last thing I remembered before the darkness was Mary's face looking down at me.

I swallowed as my gaze settled on a nearby body covered with a rescue blanket, dark blood seeping through the gray fabric. More dotted the neighborhood and street. Fear constricted my heart. No, she could not be dead. Not when I got a second chance.

"What happened? Where's Mary?" I asked, spinning around, searching for someone to give me an answer.

"Sir, we were attacked by three nuns with SWAT officers under their control," a bodyguard told me. She was Black, one of the new guards. 51, I think her number was.

"Where is Mary?" I demanded. Please don't let her be dead, please.

"A blonde nun took her," 51 answered bitterly. "We tried to stop her, sir, we did, but..."

"The nuns used the SWAT from the raid," Violet added from the porch. She held back, her eyes wide. There was a bandage on her forehead. "We were all so frightened, Master."

Then the slut raced to me, her pigtails streaming behind her. Violet hugged me fiercely. Her movement broke the spell holding the other sluts, clustered on the porch, in place. They raced after her, tears streaming down their face, all talking at once, chirping like birds They clustered around me and each of them reached out to touch me, smiling happily.

"You're alive, Master," Alison burst out, her arm around her fiancee Desiree.

"We were so scared, mi Rey."

"You're alive," Korina whispered, rubbing her stomach. She was pregnant with my child.

Beyond, April and Lillian hugged each other and jumped up and down in joy. Jessica and Thamina were supporting Sam, who had a bloody bandage on her leg, but she had a huge smile on her round face.

"You're alive, Master," Thamina beamed. "I was so scared."

All the sluts were accounted for. The paramedics, their eyes wide and face pale, loaded Xiu into the back of an ambulance. Before they closed the doors, the female paramedic gave me one last, shocked look.

I looked for my other sluts, counting them off. Some weren't here. Who was gone? Willow and Noel were at work. Karen was in the hospital and it was Fiona's turn to stay with her. Was that all of them? I frowned. No, there was one slut missing.

"Where's Chasity?" I demanded. "We need to go after the nuns. We need to rescue Mary."

"She's dead, sir," 51 reported sadly.

"Who is dead?" I asked, confused. Not Chasity.

51's eyes flicked over to a body near the shot-up police cruiser. "Chasity, sir. She died defending Mistress. I got the man who killed her." She patted the black assault rifle in her hands.

I stared uncomprehendingly at 51. How could Chasity be dead? She was so dependable. Anger flared in me, devouring the confusion and leaving behind cold ash. Those fucking nuns. Why couldn't they just leave me the fuck alone? I never did anything to them. I felt pain in hand and uncurled my fist to see bloody nail marks in my palm.

"Who else died?" I asked, my words cold with fury as I stared at my hand.

"05, 22, 34, 63, and 78 were killed," 51 reported, her voice as cold as mine, her eyes tight. "04, 30, and 47 are critically injured and may not survive. And Xiu took a round through the gut as she hid inside the house. Another eighteen bodyguards have moderate injuries. There are only ten of us fit for duty." She paused. "We killed two nuns and three of the SWAT officers. We critically injured another four and the remaining four sustained moderate to minor injuries and were captured. One nun and a SWAT officer got away. Along with Mary. Alice, the woman who shot you, also she sustained critical injuries and may not survive."

"Fuck," I whispered. Emotions threatened to overwhelm me and I shoved them back down. I needed to save Mary. The rest, the grief and anger and guilt, that all could wait.

"Sam!" I barked at the injured Asian graduate student. She was our newest sex slave, recruited to translate the Magicks of the Witch of Endor for us. "Is there any spell in the book that would let me track Mary?"

She frowned, thinking. "Um, yes. The Alluwph ritual. You will need, um, something very personal of the target and hold it in your hands. You then think about the target, about your connection with them, and say Alluwph. The spell will guide you to them."

Something personal? I frowned then raced into the house and headed into Mary's art studio. I found my buttoned-down shirt she liked to wear when painting, the fabric stained with browns, blues, greens, and reds. She always looked so beautiful wearing only this shirt. I held it in my hands, thinking about Mary, about her beautiful smile, how the shirt draped her plump ass and how beautiful her bare legs looked.

I concentrated as hard as I possibly could and whispered, "Alluwph."

* * *

Lilith - The Abyss

Triumph surged through me. It was a shame to save Mark Glassner's life. But Mark had used the Zimmah ritual. I had to keep him alive until Karen gave birth to my vessel. It grew so swiftly in her. It would only be a few more weeks.

And then I would be reborn and Mark Glassner would pay.

I moved through the Shadows, the highest level of the Abyss, and appeared in Good Sam's Hospital. I peered through the fabric of realities at the sleeping Karen in her hospital room. One of Mark's whores, Fiona, sat with Karen, a bored expression on the redhead's face.

I smiled, Karen was mine now. Well, she was mine until the birth, and that gave me certain power over her.

I manifested into the room. Fiona, dozing in a chair, jumped in alarm, shouting, "Lilith!"

I ignored the stupid girl. There was nothing I could do to her anyways. This manifestation could not interact with the Mortal World except in certain, very limited ways. It didn't have the freedom of being summoned into a corporeal form, but my connection to my vessel gave me a tenuous link I could use to appear in spirit.

And now, thanks to Mark, I had power over Karen, even if it was only temporary. I reached out and grabbed the unconscious woman's hand. I could feel her life being slowly drained by my vessel growing quickly inside her.

"Soon," I whispered to her belly. Soon my vessel would be born, and I would be free of the Abyss forever.

I concentrated and drew Karen with me back into the Shadows. Then I shifted us to Seattle and located the house of Babylon, one of my followers. It was a modest dwelling, but adequate, for now. I concentrated again, and manifested with Karen into living room. Chantelle and Lana jumped in shock, their eyes riveted to the TV.

"My Goddess, did you see...?" Chantelle's words trailed off.

"My Goddess," Lana gasped, her large breasts heaving. Crystal, the girl barely into womanhood, fell to her knees and prostrated before me.

"Get her into bed," I charged my High Priestesses. "Keep her safe until her birth."

"We won't fail you, my Goddess," Chantelle murmured as she and her wife picked up Karen.

"Master," Karen whispered.

"He's not your master; he's your slaver," Lana hissed, her Slavic face twisting with hatred.

Chantelle nodded her agreement.

I savored the fanatic worship of my followers. They hated Mark and would do anything to see him destroyed. Growing in Lana and Chantalle's bellies were my monstrous daughters. My black seed would birth new horrors to usher in my rule of mankind.

They carried Karen to a spare room and set her on the bed. Both women stared reverently at Karen's belly. Lana reached out and placed her hand ever so gently on Karen's stomach. A smile quickened on her face. Chantelle's hand joined hers, awe painting her delicate face.

They both knew my vessel grew within the belly of the disgraced nun. I savored the memory of fucking Karen when she had been Sister Louise Afra. When Mark let me fuck his slave was the start of my escape.

And it would be his downfall.

Chapter Four

Host: Rumors continue to swirl around Satan's Silvered Tongues about missing girls and incidences of violence at their concerts. But so far, authorities are not concerned and the band members are not under any investigation.

--MTV transcript, September 2nd, 1998

Mary Sullivan

I was horrified listening to my mom talk about the abuses she suffered at the hands of Kurt. The abuses, the torment. I clenched my fist, tears burning in my eyes. Mark and I never did anything like this. "And he kept you and Grace?"

"Just me," Mother bitterly said. "I was his favorite. The woman he dreamed of." Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes. "He told Grace to go and be a whore. To make a living selling her body."

"And that was Grace Cooper?" I asked, my stomach queasy. "She had a daughter named Dawn?"

Mother nodded. You're just like your cunt of a mother! She was a whore, too! And you grew up to be just like her! The words Dawn's father yelled echoed through my mind as he spanked her last week when we made Dawn my little sister's sex slave.

I thought we were punishing a bully.

But she was as much a victim of Kurt as her mother was. As I was. Dawn and I were both robbed of our mothers by that asshole. I suddenly felt sick. All the guilt I had been forcing down the last few weeks was threatening to overwhelm me.

Mark and I weren't this evil. Right? We never abused a woman.

Except Karen, my guilt whispered. But we were punishing Karen. She attacked us. She almost got Desiree killed. She deserved her punishment. And we treated her well now. She became one of ours sluts after she surrendered to us. We loved her. We'd defend her just as much as we'd defend the others.

We would never hurt our sluts.

"Pat died on the floor of the garage from Kurt's kicking. When the police came, Kurt just explained it as an accident and the police bought it. Pat would not be the last man Kurt killed. He was a sadist. A black-hearted monster." Mom swallowed. "That night he got needles and pierced my nipples. It hurt so much. But not nearly as much as the piercings in my labia and the one in my clitoral hood. When he would feel vicious, he would pull on my piercings until I screamed. And the worst part was, I was happy that Kurt was hurting me.

"He replaced Pat on bass with Skinny Mat and then they started playing clubs. Thanks to Kurt's wish, anyone who heard his band play would think they were amazing. Any woman would get all hot and horny for him and throw their panties on stage. Kurt would start to bring women up on stage and fuck them before the cheering crowd. If their boyfriends objected too much, Kurt would beat them. Some died, some got off with a few broken bones, and others were left brain damaged."

I clutched my heart, shaking my head. I wanted to hug my mom. Mark and I weren't this bad. We made our sluts enjoy what we did to them. We made them... love it...

Just like Kurt made my mom.

"And it wasn't just men he beat. Some of the girls he chose would be beaten bloody or choked or cut. Some died." A ragged sobbed escaped my mom's lips. "By the end, he was getting off on killing. I saw such terrible things. And then, she appeared. My rescuer."

* * *

Fifteen Years Ago - Tiffany Sullivan - Los Angeles, CA

My breasts were sore from Kurt's affections as I lay on my side. Today, he chewed on my tits. He just loved them so much. But now they ached and were covered in bite marks. His cum cooled inside my pussy, and I enjoyed the afterglow of a nice orgasm.

Kurt's dick never failed to leave me satisfied, even with all the pain I suffered.

A few girls knelt naked on the floor. Kurt stood before them, trying to decide which ones to show his affections to next. One of the girls--who had curly, light-brown hair--gave Kurt a mocking smile, almost a sneer. She glared at him with gray eyes filled with loathing.

Why would she do that? Didn't she know she should be honored to be Kurt's groupie?

"Fucking whore," snarled Kurt.

Nothing would make Kurt angrier than being mocked. His hand snaked out and he grabbed the girl by the hair. She clamped her mouth shut to avoid screaming as Kurt heaved her across the room and into a heavy, wooden table. It was more of a workbench really. On it Kurt kept his tools for the girls who made him really angry: pliers, knives, hammers, needles, whips.

The skinning knife still had the last girl's blood streaked on it.

The woman slammed into the table. Hard. The sharp corner caught her in the stomach. I winced as she grunted. She flopped across the table. Then she snatched up the bloody skinning knife, holding it up threateningly at Kurt.

I groaned. Kurt would skin her alive like he did with that mouthy girl. I didn't want to watch that. I hated watching him punish girls.

"Fucking bitch," he growled. "You really don't understand who you're fucking with."

"A small-dicked asshole." The woman's mocking smile only grew larger as Kurt boldly walked over to her. She looked like a Valkyrie standing defiant against Kurt, unafraid despite being naked and smaller.

But her resistance was a futile gesture. No one could disobey Kurt. All fighting would earn you was pain. I wanted to close my eyes--my mind screamed at me, too--but Kurt liked it when I watched his chastisements.

When he would finish, he would be hard and I would have to satisfy him.

I felt so bad for this woman. Kurt was going to kill her, and it wouldn't be quick. My stomach roiled and I wanted to sick up. But I couldn't. Kurt didn't like it when women threw up either.

"You will not stab me with that dagger," Kurt ordered lazily. He stood right next to the woman, the knife inches away from his cuts. He held out his hand. "Give me that dagger so I can cut off your mocking lips, cunt."

Kurt screamed as the woman stabbed his arm with the dagger instead. He staggered back, fear blossoming in his face as the blood ran red down his arm. His feet tripped on themselves and he fell on his ass. The woman walked towards him, bloody dagger in hand.

"Cut off my lips, huh?" she asked. No fear. "Fucking worm. You're so pathetic."

"Please," Kurt gasped.

I smelled urine and realized Kurt had pissed himself, a dark stain spreading on his jeans.

The woman grabbed a pair of his handcuffs off Kurt's worktable--he had quite a collection at this point. She twirled them as she held the dagger in a low, casual grip. She faced him, her smile growing wider.

"Please don't hurt me?" Kurt blubbered like a baby as the woman advanced on him. "Who are you? Why don't my powers work on you? Please, I can give you whatever you want. Please!"

"Handcuff yourself around the table leg," she growled, tossing him the handcuffs.

Kurt was eager to obey, snapping the handcuff about his right wrist, wrapping the chain around the heavy table leg before cuffing his left hand. He was trapped. The table was heavy. He wouldn't move it. "Please! I can give you wealth! Please don't hurt me!"

The woman ignored his please and bent down, pulling off his urine soaked pants. His small cock came out, looking even tinier than usual. All the blood had fled his dick. It barely rose about his piss-stained pubic hair.

"Such a tiny prick for such a large monster," the woman mocked, stroking the cock. The dick swelled unbidden in her hand. "No wonder you had to sell your soul. How could you ever get a woman, let alone satisfy one, with this little thing?"

Kurt sobbed, the tears ruining his macho rocker look. "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me."

The woman's lip curled in disgust. "I am Sister Louise Afra of the Order of Mary Magdalene. I have been sent by God to stop your perversions, Warlock."

I didn't understand what he was saying. What was a warlock? And what was the Order of Mary Magdalene? She called herself a sister. Was she a nun? I had never seen a nun like her, naked and unafraid, terrorizing the great Kurt, the lead singer of Satan's Silvered Tongue. Who ever heard of a nun giving a guy a handjob?

She did. And while holding a knife to his throat.

She straddled Kurt and guided his small cock to her pussy. She slid down it and let out a soft sigh. There was no mistaking the pleasure in her voice. She enjoyed the feel of his cock in her. My pussy clenched.

He did have a wonderful cock.

"If you wanted to fuck me, you just had to ask," Kurt's voice cracked with mock bravado, a forced grin on his face.

"When you cum in me, and you will cum, I will exorcise your powers." A huge smile appeared on Sister Louise's lips. "All the powers the Adversary gave you. No more adoring fans, no more women for you to abuse. All gone."

"Fuck no," groaned Kurt, his face paling. He thrashed until she pressed the knife tighter against his throat.

"Yes, you realize it now. All the people under your control will regain themselves. Everyone will remember all the lives you destroyed, all the pain you inflicted. I do not think the authorities will be so forgiving of all those accidental deaths any longer. And the women you raped... Oh, they will return to their normal selves, freed of your mind control. They will want justice"

"No, please no," he begged as Sister Louise rose up and down on his cock. "I won't cum. You can't make me."

"It's biology, monster," Sister Louise purred wickedly. The pleasure was unmistakable. She arched her back, her breasts jiggling as she rode him faster and faster. "You won't be able to hold on forever. You're eighteen. I bet it won't be able to last long at all."

"No, no, no," Kurt groaned, his face twisting, his hips bucking.

"Oh, yes, ram that small cock into my cunt," groaned the nun. "Yes, yes, yes. I love it. Fuck me with it. Mmm, yes. You make me so wet, Kurt. I love exorcising filth and delivering justice."

"Please," he blubbered, his hands straining. The handcuff chain rasped on the wood of the table as he jerked on it. "Please, you don't have to do this. I can give you anything."