Chapter One
The Tyrants' control built slowly. Bit by bit, men and women fell under their power. They were a cancer in the heart of the world. But hope still burned that their evil could be cured. On June 10th, 2013, Sister Louise Afra prepared to cleanse the world of the Tyrants' taint.
--excerpt from
The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy
, by Tina Allard
Monday, June 10th, 2013 -- Sister Louise Afra -- South Hill, WA
There was a soft knock at the door, bursting the bubble of my dream. "Good morning, Louise," Madeleine greeted, her voice muffled through the door. "Breakfast is ready."
"Okay," I groggily said and rolled out of bed, stretching my limbs.
I had been dreaming about being Susanne's slave again. It was a common dream. It played out in minute variants: sometimes I would be forced to be her slave, others I would crawl on my knees and beg to be hers. A few times, Susanne would be my slave, crawling before me.
Regret stabbed through me. What would my life have been like if I had not been dominated by Susanne? Would I have married Ryan? Would I have had children and watched them proudly grow up? A Warlock steals more than your life when you're dominated, he steals your dreams. Mark had already done irreparable damage to the lives of those he encountered. I needed to stop him before he destroyed more.
That was my job as a nun of the Order of Mary Magdalene.
My body was sore from spending most of yesterday in a car watching the Fitzsimmons house. I was gathering intelligence, as the military would say. I had only left the care for the twenty minutes it took to put Alison and Desiree under the Prayer of
Zanah,
turning the women into my weapons to use against Mark
.
Then it was back to my car to watch.
And wait.
Near 8 PM, Mark returned with a car full of naked women. There were five of them, all clearly Thralls of Mark. It was a setback. The best way to deal with a Warlock, particularly a male Warlock, was to seduce him, or let him think he was seducing you. But I had found it was more satisfying to turn a Warlock's Thralls against him. The prick deserved a little comeuppance. But five more Thralls would make that vastly harder. I would need to get the odds back in my favor before I could make my move.
And if Mark kept adding to his harem, this could drag on for a while.
Maybe I should go the easy route and let Mark seduce me. It wouldn't be hard. Although I was fifty-one, I appeared as an attractive eighteen year old. I had the perky tits and tight ass of a teenager, one of the Gifts the Creator had granted me to fight Evil. I could let Mark seduce me, but that was too good for him. He deserved to be humiliated, to know fear. To know that when he came in my pussy that would be the end of all his fun! I had dealt with far worse Warlocks in the last thirty-years.
Mark would not stand a chance.
Lord,
I prayed silently, g
rant me the strength to save these women, grant me the courage to face this challenge, and grant me the guidance to see it quickly ended. In the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen!
I felt better after praying and dressed.
After breakfast, I would sit here in Madeleine's house and watch the Warlock. I would wait for my opening. Last night, thanks to God's Providence, Madeleine had offered me a place to stay. I was parked on the street in front of her house when she walked up to the car with two cups of tea and asked if I needed to talk. Sensing God's Providence, I said the first story that popped into my head.
"I think my husband's shacked up with Desiree," I had told her last night. "I want proof. I flew all the way out from Chicago to find it."
Madeleine had a good heart and offered to let me to stay in her guest bedroom.
"There's a good view of that hussy's house from my breakfast nook," Madeleine had told me in a sexy, southern twang. "Doesn't that sound better than sittin' in your car, sugar?"
I left the guest bedroom after dressing in a white skirt and red blouse, and headed for the kitchen. Madeleine was pouring a thermos of coffee. I paused to admire her fine rump beneath her business skirt. She was a fit looking, thirty-something, recently divorced and ready for love. She had made a simple breakfast for me--yogurt sprinkled with granola--and left it sitting next to a fresh pot of coffee.
"Sorry I couldn't rustle you up a proper breakfast, but I got to skedaddle to work," she apologized, her southern twang melting my cunt.
"That's all right," I smiled, giving her a friendly hug. "And thanks again for letting me stay."
"No problem, sugar. You can stay as long as you need to. My husband was a no-good horndog, too. That's why I kicked his ass to the curb."
She gave me a comforting hug and kissed my forehead--I wished she kissed my lips instead--and headed out the door. She was off to her office job in a respectable looking skirt and blouse. I sighed in regret, watching that fine ass sway out of the kitchen. It was a shame she was straight. I gave her some subtle signs last night, but she didn't bite or even realize that I was flirting with her.
I missed staying with Sarai--the sexy flight attendant I had spent a passionate two days with--already, but I would persevere.
I looked out the window in time to see the Warlock, Mark jog by, naked save for a pair of running shoes. I winced. He was a slightly overweight man, his fat jiggling as he ran. He must have wished for some powerful mind control to be so confident in jogging naked. I angrily stabbed at my yogurt with a spoon.
You won't be so confident for long, prick!
* * *
Mark Glassner
I was exhausted by riding high from the exertion when I returned from my jog and my romp with Anastasia, a delightful woman I met jogging. She lived across the street from the house I took from Brandon Fitzsimmons. Her pussy had felt wonderful on my cock.
When I awoke this morning, I decided I needed to get in better shape for Mary. She was such a beautiful creature. She deserved a man that at least tried to not be an overweight slob. After yesterday's naked walk through the hotel and drive back to South Hill, I discovered I liked the freedom of going nude.
So I set off jogging, my dick flapping in the wind.
It was an interesting experience. I was stopped three times by Puyallup Police officers and once by a Pierce County Sheriff deputy. I had thought long and hard how I wanted to handle the police, so I was ready. I gave each cop two simple orders: "I am Mark Glassner and whatever I am doing is perfectly legal. Anyone who approaches you and says 'I serve Mark Glassner' or 'I am Mary Sullivan,' do what they say without question." Each cop would then apologize for bothering me, walk back to their cars, and drive off.
I loved my powers. I could do anything.
On my jog, passing cars honked at me and insults were hurled as they sped by. I didn't mind. They were lesser men and women, mere ants cursing their betters. Other joggers would cross the street or bolt the other way while pulling out cell phones to call 911 on me. I did catch up to one pretty woman in her late twenties, with a round ass covered in tight, black leggings and a pink, Lycra tank top that fit her like a second skin.
Anastasia.