1. The Devil's Pact Chapter 25: Eight-and-a-Half Weeks


    Date: 8/2/2018, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, Ass to mouth, Oral Sex / Blowjob, Cheating, Cum Swallowing, Exhibitionism, Lesbian, Group Sex, Job / Office Sex, Lesbian, Group Sex, Straight Sex, Mind Control, Oral Sex / Blowjob, Group Sex, Wife / MILF, Author: mypenname3000, Source: sexstories.com

    The Devil's Pact by mypenname3000 Copyright 2013 Chapter Twenty-five: Eight-and-a-Half Weeks Visit my blog at www.mypenname3000.com. I stood with Mary on the private balcony of our bedroom. Surveillance photos and videos of our house had just appeared on the eleven o'clock news on channel 5. Our law enforcement sluts, Chasity and Noel, figured the photos must have been shot from a house on Shaw Road across the empty lot. Mary and I sent our bodyguards to raid the house and were watching from our balcony. The house was two stories, sitting on a small rise and had a perfect view of the rear and left side of our house over the backyard fence. We sent our bodyguards to raid the house, and their squad cars were just now screeching to a stop in front of the house. It was too dark to seen anything other than the strobing red and blue lights of the bodyguard's patrol cars and some movement in the backyard that. I felt the tension in Mary's body as we held each other and waited. My own heart was hammering in my chest. The Nextel in my hand chirped. “Chasity to Master.” “Master,” I responded into my Nextel. “We have one prisoner and our still searching the house,” Chasity reported, in a professional, commanding voice. She sounded like a cop. Well, she was a cop before I made her my sex slave. Chasity commanded the bodyguards, with Noel, our FBI slut, as her second in command. “Good work,” I praised her. “Thank you, Master,” Chasity replied, her professional voice slipping back into ...
    the pleased, girlish voice of Chasity the sex slave. Mary and I dressed quickly and head downstairs and waited in the living room. In a few minutes, Chasity and a Thai bodyguard, 30 I think her number was, were marching an overweight, balding, middle aged man into the house. The prisoner was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants, thick glasses hung askew on his flesh face. There was anger in his eyes as he was marched before us, and fear. “Who are you?” Mary demanded. She was still angry about being spied on. According to the news, the surveillance photos were sent in by Brandon Fitzsimmons. Brandon was the previous owner of our house, but I took it from him and made his wife, Desiree, our sex slave. Now, he was causing all sorts of problems. Last week he tipped off the FBI, and this week the media. I just spoke to Sheriff Erkhart, and there should be an BOLO for Brandon's arrest by now. I wanted him found and punished for the headaches he was causing me. “Doug Allard,” the man sullenly answered. Then blinked in surprise. People were always surprised by how readily they cooperated with us. “And Brandon Fitzsimmons hired you, right?” I asked. “Yeah, I'm a P.I.,” he answered. “What are you going to do to me?” I ignored his question. “How long have you been watching us?” “A week, since last Tuesday,” he replied. “Fuck, what's wrong with me. What have you done to me? Is it that gas?” Fear quivered suddenly in his voice. The explanation the authorities came up with to explain my powers ...
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