Cast of Characters
Warlocks
Mark Glassner -- Mary Sullivan
Sex Slaves "The Sluts"
Alison -- Desiree Fitzsimmons -- Xiu -- Korina-- Violet -- Lillian -- Chastity (deceased) -- Karen (deceased) -- Jessica St. Pierre -- April
Servants
Samnag "Sam" (Holy Vizier) -- Candy (Sam's Girlfriend) -- Dr. Willow WolfTail -- 51 (Chief Bodyguard) -- Rachel -- Leah (Chauffeur) -- Jacob -- Monique -- Lize -- Lynda (Pilot) -- Joslyn (Pilot)
The Living Church
Daisy & Rose Cunningham (High Priestesses)
Demons
Lucifer -- Lilith -- Marduk -- Molech
The Cult of Lilith
Lana -- Chantelle -- Babylon -- Crystal -- Starlight -- Nurse Thamina -- Fiona -- Tir (monster) -- Lamia (Monster) -- Cora (monster) -- Ziki (monster)
Sisters of Mary Magdalene
Mother Superior MaryΔm -- Archangel Gabriel -- Dominion Ramiel (Angel) -- Doug Allard -- Tina Allard -- Azrael (Angel)
The Patriots
Agent Noel Heinrich, FBI (Former Slut) -- Wyatt Kirby
Other
Antsy (Mark's Sister) -- Alice -- Sandy (Mark's Mother) -- Sean (Mary's Father) -- Tiffany (Mary's Mother, Sister Theodora Mariam) -- Shannon (Mary's Older Sister) -- Missy (Mary's Younger Sister) -- George (Shannon's Fiance)-- Damien (Missy's Boyfriend) -- Avialle (Antsy's Girlfriend) -- Craig Erikson (Mayor of Seattle)
Chapter One
General Olmos's assassination of Governor Holt, and the subsequent massacre of the Governor of Texas's supporters, was the first of many atrocities committed by the Tyrants. The fact that the Tyrants had General Olmos hung does not exculpate them for the heinous act the General had committed in their names. For all we know, they ordered the massacre, and placed the blame solely on General Olmos to maintain their benevolent appearance to the masses. Either way, the outcome benefited the Tyrants: the Governors of New Hampshire, Florida, North Dakota, Maryland, and Alaska capitulated to the nascent Theocracy the next day, ending the last governmental resistance in the United States.
--excerpt from The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy, by Tina Allard
Thursday, November 7th, 2013 - Mark Glassner - Omaha, NE
Every Thursday, Mary and I traveled to a random children's hospital in America and spent the day healing all the children stricken with terminal diseases we could. It was the most rewarding thing in the world. All the credit goes to Mary for the idea.
I entered the next sick child's room and paused to study him. The little boy looked so pale as he lay on his tiny hospital bed, festooned with wires monitoring his vitals. He was young, maybe only four, and dying of a rare form of leukemia known as JMML. It was an acronym for a bunch of words I couldn't pronounce. A beautiful woman in her late thirties sat beside his bed, clutching his tiny hand. Her eyes lit up with joy when she saw me enter the room with my bodyguards.
My bodyguards were ever-present. A month since the Patriot's first assassination attempt in Washington D.C. forced Mary and me to have a constant guard. Those Warlock bastards were relentless and cunning, finding new spells and magics to unleash upon us.
"My Lord," the child's mother gasped, falling to her knees, worship filling her voice. "Thank you for your generosity!"
I bent down, cupping her chin and lifting her gaze to mine. Her lower lip quivered. Her face shone with hope and, even without make-up, her dusky features were beautiful. She was middle-eastern, a desert rose, and my cock stirred at the sight of her on her knees. You could always count on a grateful mother to relieve tension.
"What is his name?" I asked, rising and walking to her son's bed.
"Abbas," she answered. "After his father, he..." She teared up with grief.
"It's okay," I nodded. I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be crying," I ordered her.
"Yes, my Lord," she said, her smile brightening her face, the last tear trickling down her cheek.
"What's your name?"
"Shabnab. But everyone calls me Shay." She wiped at her tears.
"Your son shall be cured."
With one hand, I held hers, and with the other, her son's. I concentrated on the boy being well, on his disease being eradicated, and commanded,
"Tsariy!"
The energy surged out of me. Scarlet light engulfed her son. The woman tensed, clenching my hand hard as more and more power drained out of me. But I had huge reserves to tap. I could draw on the life force of every person bound to me by the
Zimmah
spell.
And they numbered in the hundreds.
Not even a minute later, the light faded. Already, color had returned to her little boy's cheeks. He opened his eyes. For a moment, they flicked around, unfocused. But then he saw his mother. Childish delight crossed his lips.
"Maman!"
the boy exclaimed, sitting up, smiling, and bouncing on his bed.
Healing anyone, especially children, spreads rewarding warmth through me.
Shay hugged her son, speaking to him in a rapid, musical language--Arabic or Farsi, I guessed. She kissed him over and over. After a moment, the boy tried to wiggle away from her, embarrassed by her affection. She let him go with the reluctance of all mothers.
She turned to me, beaming, "Thank you, my Lord!"
I grabbed her hand and led her toward the bathroom. She didn't fight, but just stared at me in confusion.
"What, my Lord?"
"You wanted to thank me," I told her. "51 will watch your son."
She flushed and shivered, realizing what I meant. "Of course, my Lord."
"I will keep him company," 51 said. The Black woman headed to the bed, a big smile on her lips.
51 was my chief bodyguard. She often protected me personally. Six weeks ago, we survived Brandon's attack together. She sat on the bed, giving the boy a hug and smiling like a mother to him. 51 had recently found out she was pregnant, and she and her husband were both excited by the news.
And I was looking forward to drinking her milk from those lovely, ebony breasts.
Inside the bathroom, I locked the door, gazing at Shay. "Strip."
"Yes, my Lord," she moaned. Even if I didn't have mind control powers, she believed me to be a god and yearned to satiate me.
She pulled off her frumpy sweater and the black t-shirt she wore underneath. She had a large pair of breasts that sagged a bit when she freed them from her bra. A pair of silver-dollar-sized areolas surrounded brown, fat nipples rising proudly from her tits. Her loose skirt came off, and then she peeled out of dark pantyhose and white panties. A bush as black as night and neatly trimmed surrounded her fat pussy lips. I could just see a hint of wet pink between her labia folds.
My cock throbbed to experience her juicy depths.
"Thank you so much," she breathed as I bent her over the sink, her pussy already wet.
She burned to please her god. I savored my power as I plunged into her.
I groaned, savoring the heat of her cunt, the juicy silk clinging to my dick. She lacked a young woman's tightness, but her pussy still had charm as I plunged my cock over and over into her depths. My balls smacked into her while she let out throaty moans, pressing back into me as I fucked her hard.
I admired the beauty of her back, her skin the color of dark cream. I traced down her spine, her pussy clenching so hard on my dick as she whimpered. I reached her ass, loving how her plump cheeks jiggled as I pounded her.
She looked over her shoulders at me and moaned wantonly, her face twisted with pleasure. I grinned at her, loving her passion. Friction burned around my cock, her motherly pussy bringing me closer and closer to my relief.
"My Lord!" she groaned again, her voice echoing in the bathroom.
"If you're that loud, your son will hear us," I cautioned her. But it pleased me that my cock elicited such passion from her.
She flushed and her cunt squeezed on my plunging cock.
"Yes, my Lord," she said softer. Then she bit her lip, stifling her moan as I pounded her like a jackhammer.
It made me want to fuck her faster and faster, to push her to her limits. I grunted, plowing into her, loving how she felt wrapped about my cock. Her hot silk clenched and relaxed, my balls swelling with the growing pressure of my impending orgasm.
In the mirror, I watched her large tits as they swayed and bounced before her. Her heavy, pillowy tits looking so inviting. I reached around her and squeezed her breasts, fingers from both hands sinking into her flesh, her skin so silky.
"My Lord," she groaned as my fingers found her nipples, massaging them.
I leaned over her, smelling a cinnamon spice wreathing her black hair. I squeezed her tits hard, groaning, "Fuck you are one hot MILF!"
"Thank you, my Lord," she gasped, her pussy clenching on my dick, her body shaking.
"You should fuck any young man that catches your eye!"
"I should," she gasped as my command sank into her soul, rewriting her mind. "I've been so lonely since Fereydoon died."
"You won't be fucking every hot, young stud you can. You're a MILF. Enjoy it!"
"Like you, my Lord?" she moaned. "You're so sexy! Such a stud!"
I groaned, squeezing her tits, massaging her soft, pliant flesh. I had to feel those tits on my face. She gasped in shock as I ripped my cock out of her pussy. But before she could question me, I spun her around, sitting her ass on the sink, and rammed my cock back into her pussy. I squeezed her tits, hefting them, and buried my face between her heavy melons.
I loved the feel of her pillowy breasts around my face. I rubbed my cheeks into them as I plowed her hot cunt. The spicy, cinnamon scent filled my nose as her snatch massaged my cock. Her hips writhed, grinding her clit into my groin every time I buried into her.