Incest/Taboo The Devil's Pact

K. Peterson: Special Agent Kip Peterson and Special Agent Noel Heinrich interviewing Dennis Hertz, 8:30 PM, June 8th, 2013. Mr. Hertz, do you know where your daughter is?

D. Hertz: I have no idea where Alison is. She hasn't spoken to me since Thursday.

KP: Last Thursday? The 6th?

DH: Yeah. She called me and said she had a Master now. I spoke to the man and he seemed perfectly nice.

KP: Master?

DH: Uh-huh. She was his sex slave and her Master told me it would be okay.

N. Heinrich: And you accepted this over the phone? You didn't meet her Master face to face?

DH: No. I've never met him.

KP: (muttered) How'd Glassner do that?

--Transcript of FBI interview with Dennis Hertz

Saturday, June 8th, 2013 -- Sister Louise Afra -- SeaTac, WA

I had spent a wonderful day with Sarai, the Arabic, lesbian flight attendant. After a day of having fun with the woman, Providence had yet to guide me to Mark Glassner. I knew in my heart he was the Warlock I had been sent to defeat, but I needed to be patient.

I would be guided to him by chance and faith.

Until then, I would just enjoy Sarai.

I was so glad I met her on my Friday night flight into SeaTac, and thrilled at the hospitality she had showed me on the flight. It even extended to an even more intimate encounter in her room at the SeaTac Hilton. We hadn't left since we arrived. We would make love for hours, and then collapse in a puddle of girl-cum and sweat, enjoying the silky feel of each other's skin as we cuddled. Cuddling would turn into kissing and light petting, and then we would be pleasuring each other all over again.

We would only sleep for a few hours before one of us would wake up and began teasing the other. When we would get hungry, we just ordered room service and gave the bellhop an eyeful when he delivered the food, not bothering to cover our naked bodies. Sarai had an exhibitionist streak that I was more than happy to indulge. None of the bellhops seemed to mind that we stiffed them on the tip. Their eyes always burned with desire, and their hopes were dashed as we slammed the doors in their faces.

Men were such disgusting, yet funny, pigs.

She was a dusky beauty as she lay stretched on the bed. The sun was setting, flooding the room with twilight. A plane roared, landing at the busy airport across the wide street.

Between us sat a plate of hot brownies. Room service was amazing here. I grabbed one of the chocolate delights, smearing it on her dusky nipple and bent over, swirling my tongue about her hard nub. The moist delight filled my mouth as I sucked on her hard nipple.

"You're going to make a mess," laughed Sarai. "Then we'll have to get the maid in her to clean it up. I hate sleeping in crumbs."

"So," I grinned. "What if she was a cute, sexy Latina with a bubbly ass. We could have our way with her." My hand stroked her belly as I talked. Her skin was flawless. I moved lower to her shaved pussy, leaving a smear of chocolate frosting. "I could shove a brownie up here and she could eat you clean."

"You dirty slut," she laughed as my finger teased her pussy lips. I dipped in, probing her flesh. Last night, she had been a virgin. It had been so hot taking her cherry in the airplanes lavatory. What a delicious way to join the mile-high club.

I pulled my finger out of her twat, glistening with her juices, and grabbed another brownie. I smeared her juices on it and brought it to my lips. The rich chocolate overpowered the flavor of her tart pussy.

What a shame.

"You just relax," she grinned. "I'll play with you later. Let me enjoy this treat."

"Fine," I pouted, leaning my head on her shoulder. "I want you to fuck me with the strap-on."

"Deal," she smiled, then leaned over and kissed me, her tongue sliding across my lips. "You had a bit of frosting."

I grabbed another brownie and smeared it down to her pussy. "So do you."

"Oh, you naughty nun," she moaned as my tongue licked up the frosting across her stomach, moving lower and lower. Her skin was salty-sweet, my tongue loving all the texture. Her tart scent filled my nose as I pressed lower, my head disappearing between her silky thighs.

I licked her. She moaned. Chocolate and tart pussy danced on my tongue. Her thighs parted more, letting me really get into her naughty, Arab pussy. My tongue swirled through her pink folds, my pale fingers spreading her apart.

"Umm, keep eating your dessert she moaned as my tongue flicked across her clit. "I love it. You're such a nasty nun."

I shoved the brownie still in my hand into her twat. She gasped. I buried my lips in, searching for all the crumbs as the chocolate basted in her delicious twat. A frothy, chocolaty mess greeted my lips. I reveled in the decadence of it.

She squirmed as I probed her flesh. I had to find every last morsel I shoved inside her. The bed rocked, her legs twitching as my tongue stirred her up. My own pussy was on fire. The itching need drove me to love her more. I always wanted to give as much pleasure as I received.

It was the Christian thing to do.

"Sister Louise," she moaned. "Oh, yes! Put that naughty mouth to use!"

Her hips bucked, sliding her messy pussy around on my lips. She grew closer to her release. I concentrated on her clit, flicking the little bud for all I could. She gasped, shuddering beneath me. Then she let out the sweetest, shuttering moan.

I drank the flood of tart, chocolate flavored pussy juices. She screamed and moaned, cumming hard.

"Sister Louise! Yes, yes! You fucking slut! I love it! Oh, fuck! I'm going to pound your cunt with the strap-on."

I lifted my lips from her twat, licking them clean. "Then you better go get it."

"Yeah," she panted. "Give me a moment. That was a great cum."

"Sure," I smiled, stretching out on the bed, my breasts heaving.

The TV was on, muted, but I caught Mark's name flashing on the bottom of the screen. It was a news report. I found the remote and unmuted it. "It seems Mark Glassner has struck again," the anchor reported. She was a rather attractive woman that filled out her mauve blouse nicely.

"After reeking havoc in South Hill on Thursday, he appeared in the remote town of Anacortes in the San Juan Islands today. There he turned an orca watching cruise into another orgy," the male anchor added.

"Authorities are still not sure what the gas is or how it makes people act so out of character."

My anger rose as I listened to the reporters speak about the Warlock, speculating about the mysterious "gas" he used. That's how they were rationalizing his mind control powers. He had damaged another group of people. Shots of the tourist being interviewed played. The women all gushed at how beautiful Mark's companion, Mary Sullivan, was.

"She fingered me while he fucked her," moaned a Japanese woman with a thick accent. "So good. My husband film. Very exciting!"

I had never seen such a daring Warlock before. Most weren't so blatant with their powers. Even the ones that desired fame didn't dive into the level of depravity that Mark had. At least, not right away. By the time they reached that point one of my fellow Sisters of Mary Magdalene or I would have struck, exorcising the Warlock.

"It's wild," Sarai said as she stood up. "I don't get how he could make anyone do that."

Because he sold his soul to the Devil. A picture of Mark flashed on the screen, pulled off a security camera. He was a little overweight, in his mid to late twenties. A sleazy perv. And that poor Mary followed him like a sick puppy. She clearly was a Thrall under his mental domination.

"I'll save you," I whispered. She was beautiful. I bet she would be very grateful for being rescued. Like Sister Theodora had been.

"What was that?" Sarai asked, securing the strap-on about her waist.

I stood up, grabbed my Arab lover, my anger mixing with my horniness. I kissed her on the lips, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. She froze for a moment, surprised by my aggression, then she kissed me back. My tongue flicked about her mouth as I tried to devour her. My pussy ached for satisfaction. I held her tight and spun us about, throwing her down onto the bed.

"Wow," she gasped, the dildo waving as it rose from her crotch. "Someone's feeling frisky."

I straddled her, guiding the dildo into my pussy. This is what I would do to Mark Glassner. I would have his Thrall Mary pin his arms down while I rode his cock hard. I closed my eyes as I slid my pussy up and down Sarai's dildo, pretending it was his cock.

I'm going to steal your power, I hissed in my imagination. When you cum, I'll take away your Pact. Then you'll answer for every crime you committed, bastard.

Pleasure burned through my pussy as the bed squeaked. Sarai gasped and moaned. I swiveled my hips, swirling the thick dildo through my pussy. I squeezed my tits, imagining the fear in Mark's eyes. He would fight, trying to keep from cumming. But my pussy won't let him.

Please don't, he blubbered in my mind. I'll give you everything.

I rode Sarai faster, smashing my clit into the harness. The pleasure swelled inside me. My fantasy played out, Mark's face scrunching up as he tried to fight the pleasure of my pussy. But he couldn't. It was biology.

"You'll cum!" I shouted.

"Yes!" Sarai gasped. "Oh, yes! Keep riding me! You're so hot!"

My orgasm ripped through me, a fierce hot storm, as I imagined Mark's cum erupting into my pussy. I slammed down on Sarai, swaying hard. I collapsed on her, gasping as my pleasure flowed through my veins.

"Wow, Sister Louise," she panted. "What was that?"

"Just a fantasy I enjoy," I smiled, leaning into kiss her. "Did you cum?"

"No," she smiled.

"Then we should fix that." Mark would wait for the right time. But I would exorcise him eventually.

Brandon Fitzsimmons

An airplane roared as it landed nearby. The bed in the next roomed thumped as a woman moaned in pleasure. The couple were fucking again. They had been going at it all day long. I lay in my bathrobe glowering at the news. Mark fucking Glassner was causing more problems, stealing more men's wives.

I glanced at the picture of Desiree I had set out on the cheap nightstand. I hated the SeaTac Hilton. But it fit the requirements Mark had placed on me. I wanted to call and speak to my wife, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force myself to grasp the phone if that was my intentions. I tried so many different ways to get around the command. But the moment I made the decision to call her, my body rebelled.

"We had thought Mark Glassner was staying in the South Hill area," some talking head on the national news reported, "but he was spotted all the way up in Anacortes." A map appeared, and the idiot on the news was drawing a line to show how far apart the two locations were.

It was all bullshit. I knew it wasn't a gas Mark used. I didn't know what it was, but he hadn't released anything when he walked into my house on Thursday and stole my wife. My sweet Desiree.

Just thinking about her sweet beauty inflamed my lust, and the amours moans coming through the wall didn't help. My cock swelled beneath the robe. My hand drifted down, squeezing myself as I reached over and drank more wine, setting the glass down next to the half-eaten plate.

My Desiree was perfect and sweet. She would never have betrayed me if Mark didn't...do whatever it was he did. I stroked myself, picturing my sweet wife stretched out beside me, her lips caressing my neck, her large tits brushing my arm.

Someone knocked at his door, snapping me out of my fantasy. "About fucking time," I growled, rolling off the bed and walking to the door. I opened it, not bothering to cover up, my cock pointing straight ahead. The escort I ordered stood on the other side.

She paled in comparison to my Desiree. She was Latina, like I had ordered, and had a nice pair of tits, but she lacked my wife's grace and poise. She was almost slouching in her cocktail dress, her large, brown breasts spilling out of the top.

"Hi, Mr. Fitzsimmons," she cooed, her eyes widening as she saw my cock. "Umm, someone's eager to meet me."

She wasn't my wife, but she would do. I pulled her in. She gasped and giggled as I led her to the bed. "Undress," I ordered her. She wasn't the first escort I had hired. When I was on the road for business, away from Desiree, it was simpler or order a whore than to troll the bar. Clean and efficient.

"Sure, babe," she purred, stretching out on the bed, her legs parting, giving me an inviting glimpse of her white panties. They looked so bright between her thighs, beckoning to me. She grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it up her brown skin. "Do you like what you're seeing?"

"Yeah," I growled, my cock aching.

Her bra came off, exposing her big, fake tits. They were full and round, firm from her implants. Not naturally big like my wife's. I really didn't care that she wasn't as perfect as Desiree. I was horny. And the whore was taking too long to undress. I ripped off her panties, tearing the flimsy material, and mounted her.

"Whoa there, stud," she gasped. "Get a girl warmed up first."

"I don't care, whore," I spat, thrusting my cock into her velvety sheath.

She gasped, squirming beneath me. "Stop! You have to put a condom on!"

I pinned her down, pumping away inside her hot, wet sheath. "You know you like it better bareback. I know I do," I grinned. "Fuck, your cunt's nice! Take my cock! Let me hear how much you love it."

"It's so big," she cooed, writhing beneath me. Her eyes glinted with fear, but her body responded.

I pounded her hard, taking out all my frustration on her sweet snatch. "Desiree!" I moaned, my balls slapping into her snatch. "I'll get you back!"

"I know you will," she panted, her hips bucking into me. "I'm waiting for you."

I groaned as my lust burned hot. What a smart whore. "You like my cock better, don't you?"

"I hate his," she purred. "I miss you. This is the cock I need. Umm, you fuck me so well. He can't even make me cum."

"That's right," I grunted. "But you're going to cum big time on my cock."

"Oh, yes," the whore moaned, so throaty. "Umm, you're stirring me up. Oh, yes, baby. Oh, fuck. Keep slamming that cock into me. I'm going to cum so hard on you, baby. Oh, yes. Fuck! I'm cumming!"

Her hands raked my back, her body bucking beneath me as she gasped and squealed. Just like Desiree would. My cock spasmed. My cum erupted into the whore's body. I slammed into her, shuddering as the bliss stole over me.

"I'll get you back," I whispered as I rolled off of her.

"That'll be an extra hundred for cumming in me," the whore purred.

"Sure," I shrugged, grabbing my wallet. I counted out the bills and threw them at her. "You were a good fuck."

She smiled as she quickly scooped up the money, clutching it in her fists like the greedy whore she was. I closed my eyes, picturing my sweet Desiree. I knew my wife missed me in that part of her, deep inside, that wasn't under Mark's control.

"I'll get you back. Somehow."

Desiree Fitzsimmons -- South Hill, WA

"Oh, god, Alison," I moaned as my orgasm bled out of my body. "I'm so glad you're here. My husband never would go down on me. Let alone make me cum like that."

Alison giggled between my thighs. "I bet he's lying in a hotel room pining after you."

"Umm, good," I sighed as she crawled up my body. I kissed her, tasting my juices. "He's all alone and I have mi Sirenita for company. Who needs him?" It was so wonderful not having to fake it when he pumped away on top of me.

Alison giggled, her pierced nipples rubbing against my ample breasts. The young woman let out a dewy sigh. "Master must be on the Space Needle right now proposing to Mistress."

I smiled, wishing we could be there. "They must be so happy," I sighed, a tear welling in my eye. "Why couldn't we have been with them?"

"Master has his reasons," Alison shrugged. "They'll be home tomorrow, and I'm sure we'll get to celebrate."

"I like celebrating," I grinned. "I want to watch Master's thick cock pump in and out of your pussy until he erupts inside you."

"And then you'll clean me up like a good slut," Alison beamed. She was so youthful. Her dyed-pink hair made her seem almost like a child. But a child couldn't make me cum so hard. I was glad I had her for company all day. She was so sweet beneath her slutty act.

I held her tight, my heart beating a little faster. I hadn't felt like this since college when I thought I loved my roommate. That's when I had discovered the joys of being with a woman. Juana had taught me some delightful things until she graduated. Then she remembered how much she liked cock.

She was married to some politician now.

But Alison wasn't ever going to leave me. We were Mark and Mary's sluts forever. I kissed the young woman on the lips. It was too soon to tell if I really loved her or just loved being with her. Until then, I would enjoy her as much as possible.

Alison's phone rang. "Master!" she squealed, diving for her cell phone. "Hello! Oh, hi, dad."

She was stretched out across me, her cute butt flexing before my eyes. I put my hand on her, giving her a squeeze. Such a delectable rear. I wanted to spread her open and eat her ass out.

"He is not a terrorist, Daddy," Alison gasped in anger. "Well, I'm perfectly fine. He's my Master and he loves me."

I blinked, wondering what was going on.

"I am not turning myself into the FBI. I don't care if they'll go easy on me. I'm his slut, Daddy!"

FBI? Fear shot through me. "Hang up the phone! They can trace the call."

"I got to go, Daddy." Alison hung up her phone. "Oh, no. Do you think they found us?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe you should turn your phone off completely. Just to make sure." I had seen that in movies. That meant it was probably true.

"But...what if Master needs me?"

"He has my phone number," I reassured her, pulling her to me. She trembled in my arms. The news had all been about Mark today. Before we had dinner, we even heard about the fun he had on the orca cruise.

I couldn't wait until mi Rey proved them all wrong and showed the world just how great and amazing he was. Every woman would be lining up to spread her legs for his cock and they would all beg to feast on mi Reina's pussy.

"Don't worry," I said as I rocked her. "Even if the FBI does find us, mi Rey would just free us. They can't stop him. He's special."

Alison nodded, looking up at me. "Thank you." She gave me a gentle kiss. "I'm so glad we're slut sisters."

"Me, too. Let's go to sleep. We'll need to make sure the house is perfect for their return tomorrow."

"I hope they'll bring new sluts," Alison smiled. "Wouldn't that be nice. More sisters for us to play with."

"Yes," I smiled. "But none will be better than mi Sirenita."

She smiled, her eyes closing and I held her as she fell asleep.

Where others see coincidence, we see Providence. Heaven guides us with a gentle hand. Do not fight the path you are led upon. Do not let your pride lead you to strike out across the wilderness thinking you found a shortcut. All things have their time and place. Exorcising a Warlock is no different.

--excerpt from The Prayerbook of the Order of Mary Magdalene

Sunday, June 9th, 2013 -- Sister Louise Afra -- SeaTac, WA

"Fuck me, Louise!" Sarai moaned beneath me.

I worked a large, beige-colored rubber cock into her pussy. The anatomically correct dildo, complete with a pair of hairless balls, was strapped to my thighs and pressed against my clit every time I stuffed the monster into Sarai's tight cunt. I fucked her hard, delighting in the thrill.

We had been fucking on and off all night. We both knew are affair was short lived, and we wanted to get as much fun out of it as we could. According to the clock, it was Sunday morning now. I should be out finding a church and attending Mass but, Lord, Sarai was an insatiable lover, always wanting just one more orgasm, and I was having too much fun. Church would be there next week.

Besides, I had my Papal Indulgence. I was already forgiven for sinning in the loving embrace of Sarai.

The back of the rubber cock rubbed deliciously on my clit as I fucked this beautiful creature. Our nipples were hard and rubbed pleasurably together, and her lips were hot and wet, sucking at my neck. Or she would find my lips and her tongue would wiggle into my mouth. She tasted sweet, and I wrestled my tongue into her, exploring her.

Nothing else mattered but the feel of this dusky creature against my skin. I couldn't get enough of her touch, enjoying the electricity that tingled through my body at every brush of her tongue, kiss of her nipple, or caress of her thighs. I pushed up her knees, changing the angle that my dildo slid into her and really started to fuck her hard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Sarai chanted. Our lovemaking cycled through sweet and loving, to hard and fast. "Fuck my naughty, Muslim cunt with your big, thick Catholic dildo!"

Her words sent me over the edge. I kissed her passionately as my body shook in orgasm, bliss screaming through me. Sarai trembled beneath me, cumming herself. The pleasure smashed through me in powerful waves, leaving me a quivering mass of flesh as I collapsed on her.

"Oh, wow!" she sighed.

"Uh-huh," I panted, rolling off of her, the large, rubber cock popping out of her pussy with a wet noise. We stared at the ceiling, hands entwined, breasts heaving with passion. Sarai rolled over, pressing her dusky body against my pale flesh.

"That was spectacular," Sarai husked, brushing a strand of sweat-matted hair off my forehead. The room reeked of pussy after over a day of fucking.

"It was," I whispered back. An idea suddenly popped into my head. "Sarai, have you ever been tied up?" I cannot believe we hadn't indulged in some bondage yet. And we only had a few more hours left before she had to get ready for her flight. Plenty of time for me to tie her up and have some fun.

Sarai blinked, then smiled naughtily. "Oooh, bondage! No, never. I have a friend that's hinted at it."

"Friend?" I asked. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

She laughed. "There's not one woman that's enough for you. You're a lot like Diane."

"Your friend?"

She nodded as I dug through my suitcase. I found the pink, fuzzy handcuffs. "Stretch out," I told her, twirling the cuff around my finger.

"Yes, officer," she purred, stretching out on the bed, holding her hands through gaps in the headboard.

I walked to the bed, leaning over her and seizing her wrists. With a ratcheting click, I handcuffed her. Then I grabbed the complementary sleeping mask off the nightstand and covered her eyes. I ran a finger down her neck and she shivered in pleasure. Then I kissed her stomach, licking up a bead of her sweat.

"I'll be right back, sexy girl," I told her, grabbing a discarded blue slip with a black-lace hem and pulling it over my body. "I just need to get something." Ice. Sarai would writhe in pleasure as I rubbed cold, wet ice all over her body.

"Hurry back," Sarai moaned, wiggling on the bed, straining for my touch. The wait while blindfolded would send her lust into overdrive.

I slipped out into the hallway, ice bucket in one hand, hotel key in the other. I had made that mistake once, tying up my lover and then forgetting the hotel key. It was quite embarrassing to get a maid to let you back in and she sees your lover handcuffed to the bed.

The ice machine was to the left and I walked down the hall. As I passed the hotel room next to ours, the door opened and a short, balding man in a blue, silk bathrobe bent down to pick up the Sunday paper. He looked tired, haggard sacks hanging beneath red eyes. I bet we kept him up all night.

Then I really saw him. My eyes widened in shock. I don't know why I should be surprised, not when Providence was at work.

Surrounding the man was a blue-black aura, pale and sickly like a fresh bruise. This man had been touched by a Warlock and made into a Thrall.

Years of fighting Evil had honed my reflexes, and my hand moved without thought. I dipped beneath my slip, slipping two fingers into my pussy and coating them in my juices. The man gaped at me; I used his surprise to quickly draw the Mark of Qayin on his forehead and muttered, "Shama."

White light flared as the prayer took effect.

The man went limp, slumping against his door and landing with a heavy thud. Adrenaline surged through my body as I dragged him back to my hotel room, hoping that we wouldn't be spotted--this would be hard to explain.

I needed to move quick before the Shama prayer wore off. It would only keep him stunned for a few minutes, and it would take more intimate work to get anything useful information. And it would be easier to get if he wasn't struggling.

"Mhh, you're back," Sarai moaned like a bitch in heat. Shoot, I didn't have time to play with her.

"Just relax, sexy," I said. "I gotta take care of some Nun business."

"Oh," Sarai moaned in disappointment. "Can you uncuff me?"

"Just hang tight, sweetie," I said, pulling the man in until he lay before the bed.

My hands untied the belt to his robe revealing a fat belly covered in graying hair and a black man-thong--eww--that did little to cover his junk. He was so fat that the rolls of his waist covered the thin waistband of his thong.

God, give me strength, I prayed, reaching into the thong to pull out his fat, short cock.

My soft hand quickly stroked him to readiness. I hiked up my slip and straddled his fat waist. I guided his cock to my pussy, the tip brushing my labia and bumping my clit. I closed my eyes and lowered my cunt around his cock, moaning low in my throat. His cock's girth stretched my pussy nicely and I rose up and fucked him, our flesh slapping together.

"What's going on?" Sarai asked in a puzzled voice. She writhed on the bed, struggling to pull her blindfold by rubbing the side of her face on a pillow. "Holy shit!" she gasped when she had succeeded. "Who the fuck is that?"

"Um, uhh, I'm not sure," I answered lamely. His cock felt real nice in my pussy. I loved being with women, but there was something to be said about a real cock plumbing your depths.

"Is this your surprise? Because I have no interest in fucking a guy, let alone some fat, old dude!"

"No, this is for my Order!" I gasped, adding a twist to my hip movement. "He's been touched by Evil and I need to help him!"

I was really fucking this guy now, riding him hard. And Sarai watching me was so exciting. I pulled my slip over my head and played with my nipples, pulling and twisting. I hoped Sarai was enjoying the sight of my perky breasts bouncing up and down. I leaned back, thrusting my tits out and his cock was hitting new, delightful places in my pussy.

"That sound's crazy," Sarai said.

I can understand her confusion. Most people didn't believe in the supernatural. Even the majority of Christians would find it hard to believe that the Devil made Pacts with people, giving them powers in exchange for their souls. Warlocks. My Order and I were dedicated to fighting them, to freeing those the Warlocks has enthralled--people like the man I was fucking.

My orgasm built in my womb, and I rode the man hard and fast, squeezing my cunt about his cock. The man grunted, starting to come out of his stupor. He blinked up at my tits, then a smile crossed his lips.

"Oh, yeah!" he moaned. "This is a nice way to wake up. Fuck me, whore." He let out a deep, animalistic grunt as his hips thrust up, and then he flooded my pussy with his hot seed. My orgasm triggered, pleasure knifing through my body.

I prayed a single word, "Rechem!" The Mark of Qayin flared white on the man's forehead. The man went rigid for a second and then relaxed, smiling up in a daze at me.

"What was that!" Sarai gasped. "What was that light?"

"The Prayer of Rechem," I answered. "It will allow me to get around any commands the Warlock placed on him and make him extremely cooperative." I peered down at the man, gazing into his brown eyes. "Speak your name," I ordered the man, "and tell me all about the Warlock that commands you."

"My name is Brandon Fitzsimmons," the man said in a hypnotic, monotone. "Several days ago a man named Mark and two women appeared at my door..."

My smile grew as Brandon told his tale. Creator's Providence had led me to the Warlock's lair.

Doug Allard -- Parkland, WA

I pulled up at 1414 South Alaska Street, an unassuming, blue house on a street full of small, older homes. I pulled up on the curb behind an old, dirty, maroon Toyota. After calling around yesterday, I got a hold of Mark Glassner's dad. I was hoping he'd have some answers for me.

I climbed out of my car and walked passed the Toyota. A young woman with coffee-cream skin sat in it, giving me a puzzled look. Her eyes were startling blue, adding an exotic cast to her African-American features. I nodded to the woman, but she just frowned at me.

Halfway to the door, it opened, and a pretty brunette, early forties, blinked at me, then gave me a friendly smile. I was about to say hi, when a man yelled from inside, "Where are you goin', Sandy?"

"Church," she answered. "It's Sunday, David. Remember? Then some shopping with Betty. I'll be back around two."

"Get more beer, we're almost out."

She flinched at the word beer. "Yeah, honey, I will."

"You better," the man muttered. "Or you'll get what's coming to you."

She scurried past me without a word and climbed into the car. My stomach soured. This was not going to be a pleasant interview. I reached the door and wrapped on it, peering into the living room where a fat, balding man lounged in a ripped, stained wife beater and a pair of gray sweatpants, a beer can gripped in his hand.

"The fuck are you?" the man muttered.

"David Glassner?" I asked.

"Yeah. What you want?"

"I'm Doug Allard. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Right, right. The P.I." He waved his arm. "Want a beer?"

"No thanks." I walked in and sat down on the couch. "Do you mind if I record this."

"You're forgetting the money."

I pulled an envelope out of my pocket. $500 of my advance, but I'd just bill it to Brandon. The glee the man took in selling out his son was disgusting, and he snatched the envelope from my hands, counting the money.

"Well, alright. Whacha you want to know?"

"Tell me about your son?"

"What's the tell. He's a fucking loser. Didn't go to college, and didn't bother get a real job." David burped. "No fucking ambition. Just wants to sit around all day. So I kicked his ass out the moment he turned eighteen."

"So you haven't had much contact with him?"

"Nope."

No wonder he wanted the money first.

"What about your wife? Does she talk to Mark?"

"Yeah. She's soft like that. The dumb broad still think he's not a complete fuck-up. When I was his age, I was working the docks at the Port of Tacoma and making great money." He grunted, taking a swig. "Well, I was until I hurt my back. Every year the bastards try to take my disability away."

"Does your wife ever tell you anything about what he's been up to?"

"This 'bout what happened at the Buy Best?" David swirled his beer, the liquid sloshing in the bottom.

"Not directly. I can't divulge any details, but your son has crossed my client's path."

"Still can't believe my son's a wanted terrorist. Had the police here yesterday. And the FBI's coming by this afternoon to talk to me and Sandy." He grunted. "The stupid cunt thinks this is all a big misunderstanding."

I wanted to punch him so hard in the face.

"So you don't know anything about how me makes people do things?"

"You mean that funny gas he used. Fuck if I now. The kid didn't have good grades. Mark was an all around fuck-up."

I sighed; this was a complete waste of time. "Was your son into the occult. You know, magic or new age, that sort of stuff."

"You mean that D&D game he wasted all his time playing instead of studying?"

"Not really. I meant like getting into Wiccan or that sort of thing."

"I don't know. Not that I saw. But it's been, what, ten years since I seen him. So how the fuck should I know what shit he's into."

I pulled a card out of my wallet. "Well, if you or your wife thinks of anything, call this number."

"Sure." I could see the dollar signs forming in his head. "Well, I need to get going."

"Yeah. Close the door on the way out."

I did. What an asshole. I walked back to my car. What a fucking waste of time this was. I was running out of leads so I decided to head back to Brandon's house to continue my surveillance.

As the Tyrants reveled in Seattle, celebrating their engagements, the Order of Mary Magdalene had caught their foul trail. Sister Louise Afra began her reconnaissance, planning her attack to take down the Warlocks. She had never failed to exorcise her target.

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

Mark Glassner -- Seattle, WA

I woke up with a splitting headache beneath a soft comforter. Strawberry-blonde hair filled my vision and a woman's soft ass pressed back into my cock. Mary? Right, her hair was reddish? Christ my head hurt to much to think. My cock was hard with morning wood and Mary's ass felt so nice. I shifted, my cock pressing between her sweet thighs. I rubbed it against her pussy and pushed into her hot depths. She moaned with a low, smokey voice as I started to fuck her.

"Mary?" I mumbled, that didn't sound like her, the voice was too low to be my Mary's. My mind slowly began to work again, and I remembered that Mary's hair wasn't strawberry-blonde, it was a darker auburn.

"Yeah, hun," a sleepy voice murmured behind me, and another female body pressed up against my back.

"Who am I fucking?" I asked my fiancee.

"One of the waitresses," she answered, her breasts soft and nipples hard on my back. Her hand stroked my side, resting on my hip.

"Waitresses?" I asked, and then last night came back in broken pieces.​