Incest/Taboo The Devil's Pact

Operator: 911, what is your emergency?

Caller: Yes, I have two women acting completely inappropriate in my restaurant.

O: In what way.

C: They are cavorting and...exposing themselves. It's quite lewd. I need them removed.

O: And is Mark Glassner there?

C: The terrorist? No. Just two drunk, inappropriate women that know no bounds of propriety.

--Transcript of 911 call, 7:13 PM, 6/15/13

Saturday, June 15th, 2013 -- Brandon Fitzsimmons -- South Hill, WA

I parked my car at the far end of the Olympian Restaurant's parking lot. My hands trembled and my gut twisted into knots. Tonight, I would free my wife and Alison from Mark's grip. I checked once more to make sure the new gun I purchased was loaded.

I slid back the gun's slide. A round was in the chamber. I took a deep breath. I was in Mark's territory. I needed to proceed with caution. It was so stupid of me to even be here. But I just couldn't stand to see Desiree debased by Mark any longer.

The bastard had used his brainwashing powers to make my wife believe she hated me and only married me for my money, like she was some kind of gold-digging whore. And even worse, he had commanded her to become a lesbian. Now she was here on a date with her girlfriend Alison, one of Mark's other sluts.

Desiree wanted to propose to the girl. Mark had fucked them both up.

But I would rescue my Desiree, and Alison, too. Alison was young and lithe. Her body was so curvy. She was a Lolita, eighteen or nineteen, with a body that screamed to be touched. She knew how men desired her. The memory of her cavorting in my living room was seared into my mind.

That was why Mark had dominated both Alison and my wife. They were hot and sexy, and without his power, Mark could never get a woman half as attractive.

So I would protect them both and take them back to my hideout. I knew they would resist--Mark's mind control was impossible to escape without supernatural assistance. I was all too aware of its insidious power. If it wasn't for Sister Louise, who now served as one of Mark's sluts, I would still be under the bastard's power.

A white BMW pulled into the parking lot--the car I purchased for my wife. She climbed out in one of her most gorgeous dresses. Tall, busty, and Hispanic. She was a Latina goddess. The black skirt of her dress clung to her gorgeous ass, and her tits looked about ready to spill out of the top.

Alison was dressed far more simply yet even sluttier. She had tight, low-riding jeans that showed off her thong. Her shirt was two sizes too small, cupping to her small, perky tits and outlining her nipples and the silver barbells that pierced them. In pink letters written across her youthful tits was "Daddy's Little Girl," only "Girl" was crossed out and "Slut" had been written above it. Her bubblegum-pink hair only completed her look.

My cock throbbed to enjoy her. It would only be right to fuck them both after I rescued them. They would resist, but deep inside they would be so grateful.

I watched the women walk hand-in-hand. They looked so in love. Mark's powers were amazing. What would it be like to have my own powers like that? How had the fucking pissant gained them? He didn't deserve them. He just wasted his powers.

I would put those powers to a far better use.

I leaned back and waited. It would be easier to grab Desiree and Alison after they've eaten and were tipsy from wine.

Desiree Fitzsimmons

"Mmm, we are going to have so much fun," Alison purred, her hand on my ass as we walked into the restaurant. Normally, It was hard to get a table without a reservation. Luckily, mi Rey called a head for us.

He was such an amazing, generous man.

"Hello," the maitre d' said, raising an eyebrow at Alison.

Mi Sirenita stuck out her pierced tongue as her hand squeezed my asscheeks. The maitre d', a stuffy man, shook his head. "How the times have grown so...vulgar."

"Uh-huh," Alison grinned. She licked her lips and my cunt contracted as I remembered her tongue caressing my pussy lips. "Isn't it wonderful?"

The maitre d' gave a tight smile. "And do you have a reservation?"

Hope whispered in the maitre d's obnoxious tone. He didn't want us to have one. He wanted to send us packing. "Desiree Fitzsimmons, table for two."

The maitre d''s eyes widened. "Oh, of course, Madam. We have your table ready and a delightful sauvignon blanc chilling, just waiting for you as your, um..."

"Master," Alison giggled.

"Er, yes, as your Master requested." The maitre d' grabbed a pair of menus from his podium. "This way, ladies."

Alison's hand gave another naughty squeeze as we were led back to the table. It was cozy, a candle burning on the table, wine glasses already set out. There was a bucket with a bottle of wine chilling in it. The maitre d' pulled out a corkscrew and popped out the cork as we sat down.

"Fancy," Alison giggled as the man poured her a glass of wine, then me. "I've never eaten at a place so fancy before."

"They do have delicious food here," I purred at her. Brandon had proposed to me here. I had to swallow my revulsion and fake such joy when I said yes.

Alison licked her lips and my pussy clenched again. Her pierced tongue was so skilled.

"Your waiter will be with you in a moment," the maitre d' bowed. "Mademoiselles, enjoy your dining."

"We will." Alison grinned from ear to ear.

The maitre d' gave her a look before walking off.

I leaned on the table, a big grin on my lips. "So, spit it out. What naughty game are we going to play today?"

Alison's foot caressed my bare leg. A shudder ran up my flesh. My toes curled in my heels as she slid her foot higher and higher. "Oh, we're going to be so bad, Desiree."

I groaned and spread my thighs apart as her foot reached my knee. Alison slid lower in her chair as her foot extended. Heat ran up my thigh as she caressed me. I loved my beautiful, little mermaid. She was so playful.

"Mi Sirenita," I gasped as her toes found the naked folds of my pussy.

"Ooh, no panties, good choice," Alison smiled as her toes pressed into my folds. They wiggled and caressed me.

"I'm glad you approve," I purred as the pleasure shuddered through me.

The old me, before mi Rey had changed my life, would have been mortified to be so openly gay. I wouldn't even have let Brandon do this while we were dating, and I had used every trick I could to convince that fat, bald troll to marry me so I could enjoy his money.

The waiter--a tall, African-American man--walked up, a notepad in one hand and a basket of breadsticks in the other. He sat the bread on our table then then flashed a smile that, if I wasn't a lesbian, would make me wet. I only liked mi Rey and whatever men he ordered me to fuck, like Damien last night.

This man's smile did nothing to me.

Alison, on the other hand, was bi, and her eyes fluttered at the man even as her toe pressed deeper into my folds. I groaned as my pussy clenched on her big toe. She drew it back and then pressed it in deeper, fucking me beneath the table.

"What would you lovely ladies like?" he smiled. "An appetizer? Our Cajun-style, fried octopus poppers are just to die for, and we have an amazing asparagus served with a buttery-garlic sauce to dip in."

"I don't know," Alison giggled, her foot working her toe in and out of my pussy. "Desiree, you order."

"Oh, the octopus poppers sounds perfect," I moaned, "and for the main course, do you still have that delicious bass with the spicy sauce?"

"We do," the waiter nodded.

"Sounds good," Alison grinned. "We'll both have that."

"Yes," I moaned as her toe shoved deep into my pussy. My flesh contracted on her toe. My chair creaked.

"Are you okay, miss?" the waiter asked me.

"She'll be fine in a moment, won't you, babe?" Alison grinned. She was so mischievous. "She just needs to let go."

"I do," I groaned and relaxed my body, my orgasm building. It was so hot with the waiter standing over me. I was about to erupt on Alison's toe. "Everything is..." My pussy came. "...amazing."

"Okay," the waiter frowned as he gathered up our menus.

I leaned back my head as the wash of pleasure rippled over me. It was so wicked to cum in front of this man. My large breasts heaved beneath my dress. I fought to keep from moaning too loudly as the passion filled me.

The waiter walked away and I let out an explosive breath. "You are so naughty, mi Sirenita."

"I know," she beamed "Mmm, these breadsticks look delicious."

"Uh-huh."

Alison lifted her ass. She wiggled her body like she was working her jeans off her hips. Cloth rustled beneath the table, and her foot brushed mine as she took her pants off and let them drop beneath the table.

"Mmm, that's nice." Then she grabbed a breadstick and it disappeared beneath the table. Her smile grew larger and a shudder ran through her body. "Care for some bread?"

"You are so wicked," I grinned as she produced a breadstick coated in her sticky juices. She held it across the table, and I leaned in and bit off a large piece of bread covered in her sweet honey. I groaned as I chewed.

Alison nibbled on the end, enjoying her juices. Then she grabbed a second piece, her hands disappearing beneath the table. "I dare you to crawl beneath the table and eat it out of me."

How could I refuse my little mermaid's naughty dare?

I slipped under the table. It was cozy beneath it, the long table cloth hiding me. I was almost in my own world. Alison's legs were spread wide, the breadstick only a dark object thrusting out from between her legs. I moved in and took a large bite. She had shoved two-thirds of it into her pussy. I swallowed and leaned in to nibble on the end in her pussy.

"Oh, yes," Alison groaned as her pussy muscles forced the bread into my mouth.

I hungrily tore into her pussy-soaked bread. Around us, people chatted, the restaurant buzzing with noise. None of the customers had any idea I was between my little mermaid's thighs devouring bread out of her pussy.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to the edge of her chair. My tongue probed into her pussy and snagged the last bit of breadstick. I chewed and swallowed before running my tongue through her pussy.

"Mmm, seems your hungry for more than bread," panted Alison. "Oh, yes, dig your tongue in there."

I pressed my lips into her snatch. My tongue fucked in and out her delicious pussy. Her thighs tightened about my cheeks as I devoured her. I could eat her cunt forever. I loved this woman so much. I was so happy mi Rey had brought us together.

Alison humped her hips, the chair creaking as she smeared her juicy pussy up and down my lips. I loved every moment of devouring her. She always knew how to spice things up. She let out a low moan, not afraid of spoiling what we were doing.

"Here are your appetizers," the waiter said.

"Good," moaned Alison. "So good."

"Where is your...friend?"

"My lover," purred Alison. "She's around. She has to take care of something very important."

"Oh, okay."

"Yes," Alison breathed. Her thighs clenched about my face. Her hips humped faster.

"Are you comfortable on your chair, miss?"

"So comfortable," Alison panted as she squirmed. "I could just melt away."

Her body shuddered. Her juices flooded my mouth. I drank them down as she let out a loud, purely sexual moan. I kept devouring her pussy as she moaned my name. "Eat my pussy, baby. Oh, yes."

The tablecloth pulled away. "Shit," gasped the waiter.

I pulled my lips from my lover's pussy and gave him a big smile.

"You can't do that here, miss."

Alison laughed. "We can do what we like. Desiree, I want to eat your pussy. Would you be so kind to mount the table."

"I would, mi Sirenita."

I crawled out, my body trembling with lust. The waiter gaped as I sat on the edge of the table, my thighs spread wide. My little, black dress rode up my thighs and exposed my pussy to him. That made me even wetter.

"Mmm, these octopus poppers look delicious," Alison smiled, holding up a small, fried ball. "But I think they need some sauce."

"Shit," the waiter groaned as Alison smeared the octopus ball through my pussy. "You have to stop. We'll call the cops."

"Do it," Alison shrugged and popped the ball into her mouth. She let out an orgasmic moan. "Delicious."

Brandon Fitzsimmons

My heart tried to leap out of my chest when the first cop car raced into the parking lot.

I stared at the Puyallup Police Department cruiser, my heart racing a mile a minute. I glanced at the gun in my lap, panic setting in. What should I do? Should I try to flee? Was it all over? Was it a mistake to come here?

A second cop car pulled and passed right by my car, joining the other officer before the restaurant's entrance. He hadn't even given me a second notice. The two cops talked for a moment. One was White and tall, the other Asian. The maitre d' came out and spoke to the cops briefly.

They weren't here for me. I licked my lips. My stomach was twisted in knots. I didn't know what I should be doing. Should I flee? It was so risky. The cops were here, preventing my plans. I wanted to rescue my wife before she proposed to Alison.

She was my woman. I was sick of Mark debasing her.

This was such a mistake. I would be caught for sure. I should drive away right now.

Instead, I swallowed and waited to see what would happen.

Desiree Fitzsimmons

"You have to stop this," the maitre d' shouted. "The cops are on the way."

"I don't care," I moaned as Alison devoured another of the octopus poppers she had marinated inside my pussy. Her tongue explored my pussy as she searched for the last one. "Let them come."

Many of patrons watched us in stunned astonishment. Some had their cell phones out, immortalizing our date for the entire world. Mi Rey and mi Reina would be so proud of us. We were being so slutty.

"Eat my pussy," I gasped, my orgasm swelling through me.

I loved all the attention. I humped my hips as Alison locked her lips to my pussy. She sucked, working the final popper out into her mouth. I groaned and squirmed as the pleasure swelled inside of me. My pussy muscles clenched, pushing the ball to her lips.

Alison groaned in delight as she chewed on her treat. I was on fire. "Don't stop, mi Sirenita."

"Oh, you'll get to cum alright," Alison smiled.

She buried her face back into my pussy. Her tongue stud swept through my pussy. I groaned and shuddered, my toes curling above her head as she devoured every bit of my flesh. My little mermaid knew how to eat pussy.

The maitre d' walked away.

"Don't go," I purred. "Don't you want to watch me cum?"

"What a pair of sluts," the Black waiter said, shaking his head in awe.

"Oh, yes," Alison moaned between licks.

Metal jingled. The crowd parted and a pair of Puyallup Police Officers appeared. I recognized one from Monday night. I think his name was Officer Chan. After mi Rey and mi Reina defeated Karen, they had us sluts take care of the boys in blue.

"Okay, ladies, fun's over," the White cop.

"I serve Mark Glassner," I purred to the cop.

Both cops stiffened then nodded. "Sorry, ma'am, I didn't realize it."

"That's okay," I smiled. Mi Rey had spoken to all the local cops, using his special power to make them understand that we could do anything. "It's okay for us to have sex."

Both cops nodded.

"Aren't you going to arrest them?" demanded the maitre d'.

"For?" Officer Chan asked.

"They're having sex on the table," screeched the fussy man.

"Yes, they are," grinned the White cop, his eyes ogling my tits.

I gave him a treat and pulled my top down, letting my large breasts spill out. I was such a slut.

"They serve Mark Glassner," Officer Chan shrugged. "They can do what they want."

"But..."

"Sir," Officer Chan said. "Back off."

I squirmed and moaned as the cops threatened the annoying man. It was so intoxicating telling the cops what do to. My pussy exploded in delight on Alison's hungry mouth. I gasped and shuddered as my pussy clenched and shot bliss through my body.

Everyone watched me cum. I loved being a slut.

Alison grinned. "I'm glad you came, Officer Chan. Do you remember what happened when you pulled Mary over yesterday?"

"Yes," the man swallowed, his cheeks darkening.

I arched an eyebrow at Alison.

My little mermaid flashed me a contrite look. "Sorry, I didn't get a chance to tell you. He pulled Mistress over, and she wasn't happy."

"No, ma'am," Chan said, his body growing tense.

"Good, see to it that our meal is uninterrupted or we'll have to spank you," Alison winked before she sat back down at the table. "We're so hungry, right."

"Right," nodded Alison as she sat down wearing only her t-shirt and grabbed an octopus popper.

"We will, ma'am," Officer Chan nodded and turned to the maitre d'. "They won't have any problems, right?"

"A-are you threatening me?" gasped the maitre d'.

"Yes," the White cop grinned. "If we hear they didn't have a wonderful night, we'll be back with more cops. They serve Mark Glassner. They needed to be treated with respect."

I grinned at Alison. It was wonderful being mi Rey's slut.

Brandon Fitzsimmons

The cops left.

I had no idea what was going on inside. I didn't care. They were gone. Alison and Desiree were still in there. I just needed to wait for my chance to snatch them. The tension melted out of me. I mopped at my sweaty forehead.

I couldn't wait until Mark was dead. I glanced at the gun in my lap. If I had balls, I would put in ear plugs and try to shoot the bastard. Too late for that now. He had his bodyguards. Doug, my private investigator spying on Mark as he squatted in my house, had sent me photos of the scantily clad women who were all cops and all dedicated to protecting Mark.

Mark did have style, even if he was a terrible person. If I had his power, I wouldn't waste my time fucking around like he did. I would make changes. The world would be better place with me ruling it. Mark was beyond all the regular people.

He could be king of the world. Thank god he lacked ambition.

The sun sank towards the horizon. It would be another hour before it set. It was June, less than a weak to the Summer Solstice. The sun didn't set until close to 10 PM this time of year. I peered into the restaurant.

What was taking them so long? They had been in there an hour already.

My stomach began to twist. I licked my dry lips. I was so close to rescuing my wife from Mark's foul clutches. I gripped the handle of the handgun. Every time the restaurant's door opened, I sucked in a breath, hoping it was them.

An hour later, when it was my wife and Alison, I almost blinked in shock. Alison was naked from the waist down and Desiree tits were out, smeared in chocolate. So was Alison's face. My cock throbbed in my pants. The image of the pink-haired nymph eating chocolate off my wife's tits almost paralyzed me with lust.

I had to move. I grabbed the door handle. It was time to rescue my wife.

The Tyrant Mark Glassner was born to David and Sandra Glassner. By all accounts, David was a brutal drunk. His abuse of both his wife and children were well documented. It is still unclear, however, if David was killed in self-defense by Sandra or in cold-blooded mur*er. Sandra had a lover, whom she later married. Had she killed her husband to clear the way for her selfish happiness?

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

Mary Sullivan

"I shot him," Mark's mother stated.

Silence filled the car. I held my fiance's hand and gave him a comforting squeeze. His face was stunned. His father was dead, shot by his mom. Mark's mouth opened. He didn't seem to know what to do. I know he didn't like his dad, but still, I could feel my fiance's pain. He worked his mouth as he searched for the words.

"The bastard's dead," Mark finally whispered.

Tears burned in my eyes.

A ragged sob came over the speakers of Mark's Mustang. He had his phone synced up to the car stereo via Bluetooth. His mother was on the other end, clearly in shock. Mark's father must have been so abusive tonight to drive Sandy to kill him.

The poor woman.

"Mark, I don't know what to do," Sandy sobbed over the phone. There were muffled banging and shouts in the background. "The police are here, Mark. I...I have to go."

"Wait, Mom!" Mark shouted hoarsely, fear for his mother finally spurring action from him.

The line went dead

I reached over and wrapped my arms around my fiance's neck, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry, Mark."

"I'm fine," he muttered. He wasn't. He was trying to be strong, trying not to be affected by the death of the man who had driven him from his home at eighteen.

"Let's go," I calmly told him. "Put your cock away, and lets go help your mom."

Mark nodded. He tucked his cock away--I had been blowing him when his mom called. Our date night was over now, but that really didn't matter. My new family was in crisis. Mark took a moment, then he pulled out the Nextel, pushed the call button. The Nextel chirped, connecting him to the network.

"Master to 23," Mark said into the Nextel, his voice surprisingly calm.

"23," a female voice answered back. 23 was one of the female twelve cops Mark had turned into our bodyguards today. 24 and 23 were our guards this evening, sitting in a cop car just a few parking spots down from us in the South Hill Theater's parking lot.

"We're going to 11414 S. Alaska St, in Parkland," Mark said. "It's an emergency. We'll follow you."

"10-4, 23 out."

Mark Glassner

My father was dead.

I had felt nothing when Mom said the words. The man had always been an abusive bastard. He deserved to die.

And then hearing the shouts over the phone and the cops banging on the door, sent my heart racing. Fear chilled my veins. I had to get to my house. My mom--my sweet, patient, saint of a mother--was in trouble.

I had to rescue her.

My mom had never done a wrong thing in her life. Dad probably had it coming. No, the abusive bastard had it coming. He used to beat my mom all the time when I was a kid. Fuck, he'd beat me, too. God, I should have done something to my dad earlier. Why didn't I? I had the power to stop him.

Why was I such a coward about my dad?

It was my plan to tell him off tomorrow night. My parents had been coming over to dinner. I planned on making him feel as powerless and helpless as I had. I would have made him suffer, too. He would have crawled and groveled at my feet. I wanted to make him pay for all the beatings he gave me. All the bruises he gave my mom.

And now he was dead. And my mom was in trouble.

All week, I could have rescued my mom from him. I could have done it over the phone. I could have made sure he never hurt her again, never drove her to shoot him. This was all my fault. I pressed down on the gas pedal as I followed the DuPont Police Cruiser through the parking lot.

23 had the sirens and lights blaring as she raced through the movie theater's parking lot. I was right on her tail, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I was such a fuck up. Damn it. 23 honked the horns on her cruiser when she hit Meridian and bullied her way out into traffic.

I followed 23, weaving through traffic as I tailgated her.

"We'll help her out," Mary reassured me.

Her face was pale with fear and her green eyes shone with concern. She was the best woman in the world. I had hit the lotto when I met Mary. I would give up all my power for her. She was really all I needed. The sluts and my power were just so empty compared to her.

"Master, do you need any more back-up?" Violet asked over the Nextel.

Mary picked up the Nextel. "No. Gather everyone at the main house and send a unit to pick up Alison and Desiree. I want them home. Their date can wait."

"Yes, Mistress." There was pause. "Master, we're all so sorry."

"Thank you," Mary answered. "Mark can't talk, we're weaving through traffic.

23 drove recklessly, laying on her horn as well as blaring her sirens. I followed her, pushing the Mustang to its limits. The engine roared and growled as we raced through intersections and even drove down the wrong side of the road. Traffic parted before the cop car.

We reached the South Hill Mall. Meridian curved around it towards Highway 512. I kept right on 23's tail. I had never driven so wildly before. My heart raced even as my stomach twisted and bitter recriminations gnawed at me.

If I had only done something, my mom never would have killed him.

"Damn it," I snarled as we neared the freeway, my anxiety bursting out of me.

"It'll be fine," Mary told me, patting my thigh.

She was wonderful.

In moments, we were on 512, flying west towards Parkland. Traffic was far lighter. We stayed in the fast lane, pushing up to a hundred miles per hour as cars pulled over for us. We zoomed past them all in a blur.

I wanted to go faster. I needed to get to my poor mother.

The exits flew by. We passed Canyon and Portland Avenue in only a few minutes and Pacific Avenue hurtled towards us. As we passed beneath the major street, the highway turned to three lanes. I followed 23 as she maneuvered over to the right lane. The exit for Steele street screamed closer.

We pulled off and went left on Steele Street. We crossed over the highway as we raced down the road and through several intersections. At 112th Street, we took a hard left and raced up a few blocks to Alaska Street.

"You didn't live very far from me," Mary whispered. "My dad's house is only a five or so blocks away."

"Small world," I muttered.

Before my parent's house, four Pierce County Sheriffs and a Lakewood patrol car were parked, their lights flashing. A red Medic One ambulance blocked the middle of the street, the back open. The paramedics must be inside.

23 slowed and pulled up behind the cruiser. I was right behind her.

Neighbors milled in the street. The only one I recognized was Betty Cooley. She was my age and lived a few houses down when we were kids. Concern painted her light, mocha-skinned face. She was half-Black and half-White, and had vivid, blue eyes. I vaguely remembered my mom mentioning she had to move back in with her parents a few years ago.

I flushed as the memory of the time I asked her out to a school dance popped into my mind. It had been the only time I worked up the courage to ask a girl out and, after she laughed in my face, I never had the nerve to try again in high school.

I had always been a coward.

I wasn't sure why I was thinking about that embarrassing chapter in my life. I had bigger things to worry about then some stupid high school crush. My dad was dead. My mom killed him. Betty Cooley hardly mattered at all. She still looked pretty, thin and with that beautiful skin. If I didn't have bigger problems, I probably would bend her over the car and fuck her raw while she ate out Mary's cunt.

I stared at my house. My hands were stuck to the steering wheel.

"It's alright," Mary whispered, touching my arm. "We'll face it together."

I don't remember what I said to the cops outside to get us into the house. I was like a robot, not in control of my body as I walked up to the door. Inside, my dad was dead. My mom killed him. That was all that rattled about in my head.

I gripped the brass handle of the door knob. My dad had installed this handle when I was seven or eight. I had helped him out, handing him his tools. He told me I was good son and ruffled my hair with his hand. Was that right before he hurt his back and everything went wrong?

Mary reached out and placed her hand over mine.

"We'll face it together," she whispered. Damn, she was the best. I pushed down on the handle and the door opened.

Inside, my mom was handcuffed and sat on the couch, sobbing softly. Two Sheriff Deputies talked to her. Mom's beautiful face was puffy from her tears, her eyes bloodshot. Her brunette hair was a mess, tousled and tangled like she just woke up. But it was nearly eight o'clock at night. She wouldn't have gone to bed that earlier. But then why was she wearing her pink, frayed housecoat?

No, that didn't matter right now. Anger seized me. This was all my fault.

"Take off the handcuffs," I barked at the two deputies. "It was clearly self defense and that's how you'll right it up in your reports. My dad was abusive and my mom had to defend herself."

"Of course," a deputy said, then he bent down and uncuffed my mom.

My mom blinked at me. "Mark," she croaked. "I shot him in the back. That's not self-defense. I killed him."

"He was beating you, wasn't he?" I asked, stepping into the room.

"He..." she broke off. "I just had to stop him, Mark."

"It was clearly self defense, ma'am," the other deputy repeated. "There is no doubt in my mind. So there is no need to arrest you. You're free to go." He handed her a card. "Here is the name of a grief counselor."

"But..." my mom protested, confused by the sudden change of behavior of the cops. She clutched the white card in her trembling hands. "I killed him. You have to arrest me."

"He deserved it," I repeated to my mom. I crossed the room and sat down on the couch next to her. She gave me such a hopeless look. I raised up my arm and put it around her shoulders, pulling her to me. "Believe me, Mom, he deserved it.

"No one deserves to die," she muttered miserably, fresh tears running down her cheeks. "I...I just had to stop him."

"From what, Mom?" I asked.

It was the first time I gave someone a question and they didn't answer. Mom only sobbed harder. The demoness Lilith had told me that the only person my powers couldn't work on were my mom, and it looked like she was right. For Mary--if she had any powers that worked on a man--it would be her father immune to them.

It seemed like a dumb rule. Without it, I could just order my mom not to feel guilty otherwise. I could take away her pain. There was nothing I could do about my guilt for causing this entire fucking mess by being a coward.

"Okay, Mom, you don't have to tell me what happened," I told her, pulling her closer.

"You don't hate me, do you, Mark?" she whispered plaintively.

"No, Mom," I said. I kissed her on the cheek. "I could never hate you, Mom. Dad was a bastard, anyways. He deserved it. And now you're free of him. Free to be happy, to not live in fear."

"I don't deserve to be happy," she bitterly whispered.

Brandon Fitzsimmons -- South Hill, WA

I was halfway out of my car, gun gripped in my hand, when sirens blared in the distance. I froze, fear clutching my heart. It was a trap. The cops had baited me out, waiting for me to make my move, and now they were pouncing on me.

I sat down and yanked my door shut. I twisted the key in my ignition. I had to get out of here before the cop's arrived. My car sputtered to life. The sirens were even louder. I put my car into reverse and backed out.

Tires squealed. A cop car turned into the parking lot. I hit the brakes. The cop car swerved to avoid me and kept racing up to Alison and Desiree. My wife and Alison stopped and waved as the cop car screeched to a stop.

What was going on?

Two women stepped out of the police cruiser, dressed like slutty cops. Mark's bodyguards had arrived. They talked to Alison and Desiree and the two women's faces paled. I didn't hear what was being said. My wife and Alison rushed to the white BMW.

I grabbed my phone and called Doug.

"Mr. Fitzsimmons," Doug answered in surprise. "Why are you calling?"

"What's going on at the house?"

"Lots of activity. They just sent one of the bodyguard units off to fetch your wife and Alison from their, um, dinner. It seems Mark's dad died. Sounds like his mom killed him. I met the guy, he was an abusive asshole."

"So Mark's fine?" I had hoped the agitation meant there had been an attack on Mark.

"As far as I know," Doug answered. "I've been picking up some of their radio chatter. Mark is headed out to Parkland to his parent's house while everyone else is gathering at your house."

"Okay," I growled before hanging up.

Desiree and Alison hopped into the white BMW I bought my wife and drove off, followed by the bodyguards. I missed my chance. I pounded my fist into the steering wheel and snarled at the world. Once again, god-damned Mark Glassner had foiled me.

Desiree Fitzsimmons

I trembled as I pulled into the driveway. Mi Rey's father was dead. I couldn't believe it. Alison was equally shocked. I had never seen her so frightened before. I stepped out of the car. The bodyguards were gathered on the lawn, talking to each other and Chasity.

"Any news?" I asked.

"No," Chasity answered. "They just arrived. 23 talked to the cops, and it sounds like Mark's mother did shoot him. They're not sure if it's self-defense either."

"Master will fix it," Alison declared.

"Of course," Chasity agreed. The other bodyguards nodded their head.

Inside, the sluts gathered in the dining room, a Nextel resting on the center of the table. They all looked stunned or saddened. None of us had met mi Rey's mom, but we all knew he cared for her. He was excited for her to come over for dinner tomorrow night, eager to make love to his mother so he could protect us against the nun's.

I never wanted to be dominated by a nun again. It was so horrible that day. I was a puppet for Karen. We almost killed mi Rey. Everything would have ended. I would have had to go back to pretending to love Brandon.

"It'll be all right," Alison whispered as she sat on my lap.

I cuddled my little mermaid and nodded my head. It just had to be all right.

Mark Glassner -- Parkland, WA

Mary moved closer. She stopped in front of us, her face twisted with indecision. She clutched her hands before her, not sure what she should be doing.

"Hey, Mare," I nodded.

My mom looked up. She stiffened as her eyes widened. She licked her lips. Mary's wish to be found attractive by every woman washed over my mother. Mom's eyes lit up with emotion for the first time since I arrived as she drank in Mary's beauty. Mary wore a purple blouse trimmed in white and her short jean skirt.

She even had a slight smile as she looked Mary up and down.

My powers may not work on my mom, but Mary's did. When Mary and my mom had spoken on the phone a few days ago, my mom had gotten so horny we were pretty sure she was masturbating as Mary described herself.

That had been so hot listening to my mom grow horny. It was how Mary came up with the plan to use her power to make my mom so aroused she wouldn't care that she was fucking me. A hot heat flushed through me as I imagined my mother beneath me.

"You must be Mary," my mom purred, her smile growing for a moment, and then it faltered. "I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

"It's okay, Sandy," Mary said before bending down, hugging my mother, and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "We're going to take you to our home. You can't stay here. Trust me, things will get better."

"I...I guess you're right." My mom glanced around the living room. She seemed so lost. "I don't think I can stay here."

"No," I told my mom as I helped her stand. I led her to the front door. None of the cops in the room objected.

Movement caught my notice. I turned and looked down the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. My dad's body lay face down in the middle of the hallway. Crime scene technicians moved around the body. I looked away.

I didn't need to see him.

My mom didn't look. She just hugged herself in her housecoat. We could get her new clothes.

I frowned. The housecoat was open near the top, exposing some of her creamy cleavage. My mom wasn't wearing a dressing gown beneath. Normally, she would. She was naked beneath her robe. I glanced back at my dad. He was coming from the bedroom when Mom shot him.

And why was Dad home on a Saturday evening? It was his poker night. He should have been out of the house until after midnight. I glanced at my mom. Her hair did look tousled, like she had been in bed or something.

A sudden thought flashed through my mind. Was she having an affair?
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