The Devil's Pact Pt. 04

My stomach roiled in sudden nerves, scared to tell Mary where my powers came from. I looked at my girlfriend; her heart-shaped face stared expectantly at me. The pink, silk robe she wore had loosened during supper, and I could see a dusky nipple perched on a small, freckled breast.

I took a deep breath. I loved her; I could share my darkest secrets with her. "You still want to know how I can do the things I do?"

She nodded eagerly.

I sighed. "Well, it's..." I started to say. This was harder than I thought. My stomach was twisted in painful knots. The longer I prolonged this, the worse it grew. Maybe it was like ripping off a band-aid--I just needed to get this over as quickly as possible. "I made a deal with the Devil," I blurted out.

Mary blinked. "What?" Confusion marred her face as she furrowed her auburn eyebrows.

"Last night, at a crossroads, I made a deal with the Devil," I replied. "In exchange for my soul, he gave me three wishes. A long, healthy life. Sexual stamina." I paused. "And...people have to do what I tell them to."

Her face contorted in surprise as she realized what that meant.

"I love you, Mare. I don't want to control you anymore." I took a deep breath, and gave her my final command, "You no longer have to do what I told you or what I will tell you to do. You are free to ignore my commands."

There was silence.

Then her face flushed in anger. "So I wasn't attracted to you. I didn't even have a choice. You just told me to spread my legs and I had to do it! Fuck, Mark! Jesus Christ, what the fuck!"

"I'm sorry, Mare," I whispered; flinching beneath her words. This wasn't going the way I had hoped. "You were so beautiful and you were so happy to do what I told you to. I made sure you enjoyed it. How many times did you cum today?"

"That makes it better!" she demanded, tears falling down her freckled cheeks. "Oh, God," she moaned. "You made me do such depraved acts. And what you made me do to my boyfriend, Mike..." Her body wracked with sobs.

This was going so badly. And she was right, I had made her love me, then I made her dump her boyfriend over the phone while I fuck her ass. God, what type of asshole does that?

"I love you, Mare," I confessed to her. "I think the moment I saw you in the coffee shop last night I fell in love with you. I was just so lonely, and you seemed so happy doing what I told you. It didn't seem wrong. But as the day wore on, I realized how terrible it was for me to tell you what to do, so I've tried to not give you direct orders anymore. You tell a slut what to do, not the woman you love. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I want you to truly be with me. Not because I made you, but because you love me."

"And that's the worst part, bastard!" Mary screamed. "I do love you! It makes this hurt so much more!"

Relief washed over me for a moment. She still loved me. "Then what does the past matter. All that matters is that we love each other."

"What if it's not real love?" Mary retorted. "What if it's just the poison you fed me?"

"Does it matter how you fell in love with me? Doesn't it just matter how your heart feels?" I reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled away. "We can be happy together. I can give you whatever you want. I can give you the world on a silver platter!"

She hesitated, doubt conflicting her face. The she steeled herself. "I think it does matter that my love isn't real."

"How do you know it's not real? How can you tell? What about last night? You seemed to be flirting with me. That was before I made my Pact."

"I..." she opened her mouth and hesitated. "I don't know." Fresh tears overwhelmed her and she sobbed into her hands. "I don't know what to do."

"I'm going to go upstairs and wait," I told her. "If your love for me outweighs your anger then come upstairs. If not, I love you and I won't stop you from going. You can take the car, your clothes, anything you want. I promise I won't ever come looking for you. Just, please, think about it? Please?"

Mary sat still for a moment and then gave me the merest nod of her head.

A tiny glimmer of hope shone on me--there was still a chance. "I love you Mary."

Mary did not answer me. She just buried her face in her hands and cried.

I stood from the table and left the dining room, my heart heavy with guilt and terror. I entered the kitchen where Alison and Desiree were cleaning the dishes. Alison looked at me, a supportive smile on her face. "It'll be okay, Master," she whispered, hugging me. "Mistress loves you."

Alison hopeful words made me feel a little better. "Sluts, when you're finished with the cleaning, retire to the guest bedroom and do not leave until the morning unless you need to use the bathroom."

"Yes Master," she replied as Desiree nodded. Then I discontentedly headed upstairs to the master bedroom and sank to the floor, leaning back against the bed. And waited.

My heart beat hard, stuck in my throat, almost choking me. I clenched my hands tight. And waited. My ears strained for sounds from downstairs, but all I could hear were clatters from the kitchen. Fear and doubt and terror and hope all swirled through my head. God, she was so hurt by the truth. I was such an idiot to release my control on her.

I sighed. No, letting her be free was the only way to truly have her. It would never have been a real relationship if she was my slave. But she still loves me. I just need to hope that her love will win out against her anger. I would pray to God, but I don't think he would answer me. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as the tension squeezed my heart. Minutes ticked by a long as hours. The longer I waited, the worst the conflict between hope and despair grew. Over and over, the two phrases began to repeat on a loop in my head, drowning out all other thoughts

Mary was going to come upstairs. Mary was going to leave.

Again and again, like a needle skipping on a broken record, my mind echoed with those two thoughts. Mary was going to come upstairs. Mary was going to leave. Hope and despair, love and grief, warred for my soul. My heart pounded until I thought it was going to explode in my chest.

Mary was going to come upstairs. Mary was going to leave.

The front door opened. A car engine started. Despair slew hope, and love was drowned by grief.

Mary was going to leave.

I sobbed into my hands.

Chapter Six

The Tyrants' Theocracy often painted them as perfectly in love, stepping in harmony, but could there love be as pure as their propaganda suggested?

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

Desiree Fitzsimmons

I trembled as my Master left the kitchen. This night had been going so wonderfully. I was freed from being my boorish husband's trophy wife and claimed by the amazing Mark and his delightful girlfriend. I was their sex slave, their slut now. It wasn't much different than being Brandon's wife except the sex was so much hotter.

I was even attracted to Mark. He maybe the first guy I had ever fucked that I had actually enjoyed.

And now everything seemed to have gone so wrong. Mark and Mary's fight had paralyzed Alison and me in the kitchen. Our Master had been devastated when he walked out of the dining room. He seemed to have the power to make anyone do what he wants--except make his girlfriend understand what he had done to her.

"Do you think she's going to stay?" Alison asked, her voice a pained whisper.

I looked at my fellow slut, her naked body trembling, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Maybe," I told her, walking over to the cute girl. She was definitely pretty. I normally went for a more mature woman, like Diane, but there was something so innocent about her that contrasted with her nipple piercings and degrading tattoo above her pussy. She was whorish and pure and it was so appealing. I knew why Master kept her around.

She suddenly threw her arms around me, hugging me tight, her lithe body clinging to mine. I hugged her back, enjoying the feel of our flesh pressed together. This was another perk of serving Mark--I could indulge in my lesbian desires. I didn't have to hide who I was just to land a man that could take care of me in style--Mark didn't care that I was gay. He loved it.

"She can't go," sobbed Alison. "She's my Mistress. I need her almost as much as Master."

A spark of anger burned in me. How dare our Mistress fight with our Master. Doesn't she know how much she's hurt both Alison and Mark? It wasn't right. Mark was an amazing man. A powerful man. In another time, I'm sure he'd be a king.

My king.

"Please say she'll stay," begged Alison. "She made me cum in the shower. I thought she cared for me? And I thought she loved Master."

I rocked her, nuzzling at her ear. "It'll be okay. Mark is a king. He's powerful. If he wanted her to stay, he would have made her. He let her make the choice. You heard him. Maybe she'll stay. Maybe she'll realize that she does love him."

"But what if she doesn't? What is she lied about loving him?"

"Then mi Rey is better off without him."

"Mi Rey?"

"My king." I stroked Alison's pink hair. Calling him that just felt right to me. "If she doesn't love him, then it's better this way. He can find another woman to love. And until then--"

"He'll have me and you to satiate his lusts," Alison sniffed, her arms squeezing tight about me. "We'll make sure he's taken care of. We'll never leave him, right?"

"Of course not," I smiled. Why would I ever leave him? He was my king. I belonged to him. He had taken me in front of my husband.

"Good," Alison sighed. "Thank you, Desiree."

"You're welcome," I smiled. "I don't mind hugging a cute, naked girl like you."

Alison giggled. She was so cute and innocent and my heart beat a little faster as I held her, her hard nipples and those delightful piercing rubbing against my heavy tits. If I wasn't so scared about mi Reina abandoning us and crushing mi Rey's heart, I would probably want to do something with this sexy slut.

The front door slammed shut and I flinched--Mary had made her choice.

Alison began sobbing in my arms and a tear trickled down my cheek.

* * *

Mary Sullivan

I sobbed into my hands.

It all made such a sick kind of sense why I acted the whore today. A man, whom I only met last night, walked in to my work this morning and told me to do the most depraved things, and I just did them without thought or question. I figured he had some animal magnetism, or that he awoken some lust buried inside me. That the special thing I had recognized in him last night had made me act like such a slut or that I just loved him so much that I would happily debase myself.

I had thought I had chosen to do those perverse acts. But to find out that he controlled me, that I was little more than a puppet dancing on his whims. Oh, god, it was more than I could take. My body shook as I cried. My soul was crushed beneath this knowledge. Mark sold his soul to the Devil and everyone had to do what he told them to.

And the worst part was, I loved him. I ached for him. I wanted to run upstairs and shout out how much I loved him and embrace him and kiss him and...and fuck him. But how could I trust myself around him? With a simple command, I would be putty in his hands, free to perform whatever perverse acts he imagined.

My hips shifted as my pussy itched, remembering just how much I had enjoyed performing those perverse acts, my pussy still wet and flushed from his wonderful fingers at dinner.

"No!" I sobbed "He made me enjoy them. As long as I'm around him, I would be as much his slave as Alison and Desiree."

But he had released me. He freed me from his power. If he had wanted to, he could make me stay, make me want to be with him, and make me forget I was ever even angry with him. With a word, I would beg him to degrade me further. I would crawl after him on my hands and knees.

"No! No! No! I am my own woman. I'm not Mark's slave. I'm not an object to satiate his lusts!" My soul was torn in pieces. If I only could hate him. This decision would be so easy.

I had to get out of here.

I stood up, wrapping the robe about me. I dashed out of the dining room, grabbing the keys to the Eos Mark had...had stolen for me. Christ, this was fucked up. He was so powerful; I ached to go upstairs and--.

No! Be strong!

Fear beat in my breast. Did I have time to change? I was dressed only in the flimsiest of silk robes. It did little to cover my naked body beneath. What if he came back downstairs and brainwashed me again? No, I'm dressed enough. I grabbed one of the shopping bags Alison had carelessly left on the living room floor. I did not care what outfits were in there. I could change later, once I was away. Once I was free.

I rushed outside, unlocking the Eos and jumping in. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The car started with a low purr. I was going to escape, I was going to leave, to be free. I grabbed the gear shift and froze.

I love Mark.

The sentence seemed to float from the deepness of my soul. I loved him.

But, he hurt me. He degraded me. Fresh sobs wracked my body

Yes. But who hasn't hurt the one they love.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, my stomach tangled with emotions. I tried to put the car into gear, but my hand refused to move. If I just put the car in reverse, I would be free. Come on, girl, it's not worth the risk. If I go back, I'll just be his slave again.

But I'm free right now. Mark gave me a choice. No matter what I choose, I'm free. If I stay, it's because I chose to, not because he made me.

"He hurt me!" I shouted in frustration, hating my traitorous body and mind for wanting to return to him. "How can I go back?"

I love him, therefore I can forgive him.

I froze. Could I forgive him?

My heart thumped in my chest as I thought.

Could I forgive his mistake?

I loved Mark, ached for him. My hands trembled on the gear stick. It didn't matter why I loved him. Mark was right, it just mattered that I did loved him. And he loved me. If he didn't love me, he would treat me just like Alison and Desiree. Like a whore. I've seen him with other women. Half the time when he was fucking he could care less if the women enjoyed it or had an orgasm. But with me, he made sure I had fun, that I had my orgasms.

I smiled, remembering the wonderful cum Mark had given me at the salon; the way he'd kneel before me, spread my thighs, and eat my waxed pussy. He cared that I enjoyed myself. Mike, my former boyfriend, had never cared, he had treated me like Mark would treat other women. Like a whore.

And what about Alison and Desiree? Do I just leave them to his enslavement?

I can't deny that I got off on ordering them around and treating them as objects to satiate my lusts. There was something intoxicating about someone who would do whatever filthy thing you desire. A beautiful woman who was more than happy to get down on her knees and pleasure you with her tongue, her fingers. Mark could have had that from me. He did have that from me, back at my work with Cynthia and Vivian. And he had freed me.

Could I do the same to Alison or Desiree, free them from their bondage?

I shifted in the seat; my pussy itched with desired. No, I don't think I could. There were definitely perks staying with Mark. But what if makes me his slave again? I loved Mark, but did I trust him?

Then, in a single moment of clarity, it came to me. There was one way to make sure we would forever be equals in our love. There was one way I could know that I could trust him.

Chapter Seven

The FBI and the Puyallup Police Department are asking for any help in identifying these three individuals in connection with the Terrorist attack at the South Hill Buy Best. Suspect One is a White Male...

--transcript from the Channel 7 News broadcast, June 7th, 2013

Mark Glassner

The front door slammed shut. A car engine started.

Mary was going to leave.

I sobbed into my hands. Mary was right to leave me. I never should have told her to love me. I never should have told her to fuck me, or destroy her relationship with her boyfriend. I had brought her nothing but betrayal and pain. How did you do that to someone you loved? The guilt threatened to swallow my soul.

I snorted in derision. My soul. What did that matter, it wasn't even mine anymore. I sold it for these powers. And one day with my powers and this was the result. I fucked up bad. I was an idiot to think I would stop being a loser just because I sold my soul for these powers.

What did anything matter?

Love is for the weak, Mark. I pulled back from the brink of despair. I remembered what I had promised myself this morning. I was a new man, reborn beyond guilt. I don't need that useless emotion weighing me down. And I don't need love. All love ever did was make me care about my whore, deluded me into think my saucy filly would stay with me after what I did. She should have only been my favorite whore. Nothing more.

That thought hurt.

Because Mary wasn't my whore. You don't love your whore. And I loved Mary. This wasn't just lust. I felt something different with her from the moment I laid eyes on her last night. And this morning, she had blown away Cynthia and Vivian. As sexy as those two ladies were, Mary was far more than just an object to lust for. What I felt for Mary dwarfed the affection I had ever felt for anyone.

But she didn't love me back. She would have stayed if she actually loved me. No one will ever love me, they'll just obey me.

I pulled out the ring box from my pants pocked, and opened it up to stare at the diamond engagement ring. In the dark room, without any light to reflect its brilliant fire, it was just another dull stone. Just like Mary's soul. She had never loved me, she just reflected the light of my commands, reflecting a brilliant fire that enchanted me, blinded me with its beauty. But without my orders, there was nothing to reflect, just a dull soul who was disgusted with me.

Hated me.

The case snapped shut. I should get rid of the ring. Flush it down the toilet. Throw it in the garbage. I didn't need it. I had my whores. All I would ever have were my whores. Alison and Desiree, and more would come. You didn't love a whore. You didn't marry a whore. You just fucked a whore, pouring your cum into her mouth, pussy, or ass. Alison and Desiree were wet and willing downstairs. I could forget all about love and Mary between their thighs. My cock stirred in my pants. I would fuck them raw, ravish them until their cries of passion smothered the pain in my heart.

"Mark," a voice whispered in the dark.

* * *

Desiree Fitzsimmons

The front door opened. Alison was still clutched in my arm and we both caught our breaths. The pink-haired slut trembled in my arms as we both strained to hear. Why did Mary come back? Did she forget something or had she made her choice?

The stairs creaked.

"She's going to him," gasped Alison. "Our Mistress came back!"

The young woman leaped in my arms. I broke away, standing back to watch her exuberant celebration. She danced naked, her delightful, perky breasts bouncing, silver flashing on the tips of her pink nipples.

Liquid heat warmed my thighs.

I leaned against the counter and watched her wild celebration. All the stress of the last few minutes was bursting out of the wild girl. Her hair danced bout her shoulders, her hands sliding up and down her body. She began twerking her hips, rubbing her fingers between her thighs as she smiled at me, her cheeks growing more and more flushed.

"Our Mistress is back, Desiree!" she purred, her hips working from side to side. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"So wonderful," I breathed, captivated by this siren.