The Devil's Pact, the Cult of the Ghost
Chapter 2: The Sheriff of Caissa County

Copyright© 2015 by mypenname3000

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2: The Sheriff of Caissa County - The Ghost of Paris is dead, but he left behind a legacy. There are those who love him, who miss his touch, and will see him snatched out of the jaws of death in defiance of the Theocracy! Sequel to The Devil's Pact, the Ghost of Paris

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   NonConsensual   Coercion   Lesbian   Sister   DomSub   MaleDom   Group Sex   Orgy   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Sex Toys   Lactation   Water Sports   Pregnancy   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Doctor/Nurse   Violence  

Note: Thanks to b0b for beta reading this! Monday, November 19th, 2013 – Sheriff Caleb Barends – Cassia County, Idaho

The roads were still wet from the rains that had swept in. It had been a warm winter so far. But snow was coming next week. I drove my official, Sheriff SUV down Interstate 84, heading north to Burly. I was returning to the station to have a briefing with my officers about this strange plague out of Seattle.

All ready there had been a few cases up in Boise, the state's capital. Wormwood was supposed to be dangerous as hell. Hundreds had already died out in Seattle. The news medias were all blaming Lilith, the demon that the Living Gods had ousted out of Seattle last week. Of course, it looked like she had wormed her way back into the city.

"Praise the Living Gods," I muttered. "And let their loving gaze protect us from Lilith's foul plague."

I had never been a religious man until I had been glued to my TV watching the events unfold in Tacoma, Washington at the end of September. The Living Gods had been so imposing and majestic as they stood triumphant over the False God. I had cheered with all of my deputies as He gave the order for Brandon to be executed.

How could you not be a fervent follower of the Living Gods after witnessing such majesty?

Farms flashed by my SUV as I sped down the highway, and wooden fences were transformed into brown blurs. The fields were golden with winter wheat, dirt roads muddy, puddles glistening. There was a flash color ahead. Something pink on the side of the road. I frowned, squinting to figure out what it was.

A girl.

Hitchhiking.

I grinned, flipping on my lights and pulling off to the shoulder. It was illegal to hitchhike on the interstate. She was a lovely teen, maybe fifteen, her ass filling out a pair of tight jeans. She had her hands in the pocket of her thick, pink jacket, the hood lined with fur.

That was the other nice thing about the Living Gods. A fifteen year old was no longer jailbait but ripe for the plucking.

She jumped when she noticed me, scowling with annoyance. Her eyebrows wrinkled, silver flashing above her right eye—a piercing. Her mouth was lush, pursing as she swallowed. Her green eyes shifted and her hand pushed back a lock of sandy-blonde hair.

"Hi, officer," she smiled, trying to hide her fear. She wasn't happy to see a cop.

"You okay?" I asked, climbing out and adjusting my gunbelt.

"Of course. Just walking to my Aunt's farm."

"Oh, yeah. Who's that?" The gravel on the shoulder crunched beneath my feet as I walked over to her. "I bet I can give you a lift."

"That's okay." She pointed at the dirt road ahead leading to a farm house just visible on a distant hill. "That's hers."

"So you're Becca's niece?"

She quickly nodded. "Yep. Me and Aunt Becca are real close."

"Well, that is remarkable."

Her smile slipped a bit. "Um, I guess."

"Because there ain't no one by the name of Becca at that farm."

"Oh, no." She covered her fear well. "Um, I must be mistaken. It's the next one down."

"Well, I think you're lying to me." I grasped her shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm not gonna bite. You running away?"

"I'm eighteen. I don't need to runaway."

I cupped her chin, stroking her fair cheek. She was delicious. I was going to enjoy her. I didn't have to hold back like I used to. So many years I had been dealing with troubled or drunk teens, their nubile bodies just begging to be touched.

Praise the Living Gods.

"What are you doing, sir?" The fear returned, a tremble passing through her.

"I don't care if you ran away," I smiled. "I think I can help you out. If you help me out."

My cock bulged my blue jeans. I wore the beige shirt of my deputies' uniform, a big, silver star pinned above my heart, but I always opted for the more comfortable jeans than the dark-tan slacks the deputies were issued. I was the Sheriff. I could dress how I wanted.

"H-how?"

I took her hand, bringing it down to my bulge. "I think you know how."

"You shouldn't do that."

"Things change. You know about the Living Gods, right?"

She nodded her head.

"Then you should know that it's okay for us to love each other. Let me love you, and I'll give you a nice, warm place to live and a job helping out around the station." My deputies would love a morale boosting piece of ass they could fuck. Particularly if this plague grew out of hand.

"I ... don't know. I've never ... you know."

"Bullshit," I laughed. "A girl with a piercing is a girl that likes to have fun. And I bet you've had a lot of fun."

She shifted, looking down. I put my arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to my cruiser. She resisted a little, then allowed me to guide her over. She was young enough to be molded by a strong hand. My cock ached to start doing just that. At my cruiser, my hand drifted down the back of her fluffy jacket, resting on her bubbly butt. I gave a squeeze and she jumped, casting me a fearful look. "Are you wearing panties?"

"No, sir," she whispered.

"Sheriff," I corrected. "And why aren't you wearing panties?"

"Because ... a woman should always be ready to be fucked."

"Praise the Living Gods," I grinned and squeezed her ass. "I bet you're just ready to be fucked."

"I ... I guess, Sheriff"

"Then drop your pants."

She glanced at the highway, cars streaming by, leaving trails of mist behind. "People'll see us."

"And?" My hand squeezed her again; she yelped in pain. "I gave you an order, slut. Drop those pants and start earning your keep."

Her hands reached down, fumbling at her jeans. They snapped open. Her cheeks were crimson as she wiggled them down her slim hips. Her ass was glorious, pale and plump, a hint of her smooth vulva peaking between her sleek thighs as she pushed them down. A nice, tight slit. Girlish. Beautiful.

"Unzip me."

"Yes, Sheriff."

She shuffled her feet to turn around, her jeans bunched around her ankles. She gasped as I ran a thick finger through her slit, her pussy lips engulfing my digit with warm silk. She shuddered, her eyes flashing up at me for a brief moment, then she looked down. Her hands trembled as she unfastened me. Her fear made this all the sweeter.

My cock fell out thick and throbbing. Her hand hesitantly grabbed me, shockingly cold. I groaned, savoring the sudden difference in temperature as she stroked me. She knew what to do. She had given a man pleasure before.

"That's it," I growled. "You're doing good."

"Thank you, Sheriff."

My cock throbbed as her hand stroked me. Her hand grew warmer and her grip grew more sure and certain. Precum beaded the tip, bubbling out as she worked up and down on me. Her thumb brushed the tip, a shudder passing through me.

I worked my finger through her slit more. Moisture began to leak out, her cheeks growing flushed. "That's it, slut," I grinned. "Your cunt's heating up nicely. Are you getting eager to perform your duties and service me like a good whore?"

"Yes, Sheriff." Her voice was so sweet.

"Good. Cause it is time for me to violate your tight cunt. Lean against my SUV's hood. You're going to love every inch of my cock."

She shuffled around, waggling that delicious rear at me. She leaned her arms on the hood. It was too high for her to lean over proper. My cock nudged her ass, leaving a trail of shiny precum as I savored her silken flesh. I dipped between her thighs, brushing the wet warmth of her teenage cunt.

I shifted, guiding my cock. She let out a slight gasp as I explored her lips. And then I found that wet hole and I thrust in. She squeaked in shock, her back arching and her pussy sinking around my thick dick. She was so tight. Far tighter than my ex-wife ever had been. Were the girls as tight back when I was fifteen? I tried to remember, but that was over thirty years ago.

Who cares. She was tight right now and that's all that mattered.

"Take my cock, whore," I grunted, slamming her against the side of my vehicle as I pumped in and out of her juicy depths. "Take every last inch! You love it, right."

"Yes, Sheriff," she gasped, throwing a fearful look over her shoulder.

That made me fuck her hot depths even harder. She grew more wet as I slammed into her cunt. Her pussy squeezing down, surrounding me with her hot velvet. There was no way I was going to last long in her depth. My balls tightened as they swung and slapped her clit.

"So good. You were made to be the station whore! Everyone of my deputies is going to enjoy fucking you."

She let out a slight moan, her lips pursed. She was fighting the pleasure, denying her body the bliss of my thick cock. That wouldn't do. I reached around her, shoving my hand down between her stomach and my SUV's fender. I wormed between her thighs. The little slut gasped when I found her clit, stroking it hard. Her pussy squeezed down on my cock and more sweet moans escaped her lips. I groaned, fucking her harder, pushing her against my car with each thrust.

"That's it! Enjoy my cock! You're just the Sheriff's whore now!" I rubbed furiously on her clit. "Say it, cunt!"

"I'm the ... the Sheriff's whore!" she moaned, her body shaking. "I'm ... your slut, Sheriff!"

I buried into her, my cock aching. My cum erupted out into her delicious cunt. Her pussy clenched about me, her sighs louder, more throaty. Her head threw back, pushing into my chest as she came hard, accepting her new place in life.

I leaned against her, breathing hard. "You are a good fuck." I pulled my cock out, shiny with her juices. A thick dollop of my cum leaked down her thigh. "Pull your jeans up. We need to get to the station."

"Yes, Sheriff," she whispered, looking down as she pulled those jeans up her wonderful ass. I opened the passenger door and she climbed into the warm cab.

I walked around and hopped in. There was a missing person alert on my computer. Corina Jennings, 15 yr old, 5'4", 96 lb., blonde hair, green eyes, piercing in right eyebrow, last seen wearing a pink jacket, thought to be heading north from Wyoming into Cassia County.

I grinned. "You're going to love the station, Corina."

She gave me a sharp look.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to let such a sweet piece of ass go." I pulled back onto the highway, stepping on the gas. I was going to be late to that meeting. But it was so worth it.


Ursula Ayers – Paris, Texas

It was chaotic in the Walmart. Everyone was buying supplies.

"What's going on?" I asked a guy.

"There's a case of the Wormwood Plague down in Austin and two in Dallas."

I blinked. "Wormwood Plague?" I had been staying away from TV and the internet. I had been worried about the Ghost so much the last few days I hadn't been paying attention to what was going on in the world.

"Yeah. It broke out in Seattle on Friday and since then it's killed hundreds."

"Great," I muttered, glancing at my shopping list. The Cult of the Ghost wanted to get out of Paris as fast as possible. I was sent to the Walmart to buy supplies with Carla and Marybeth. We split up to cover more ground.

Everything had gone crazy thanks to Mark and Mary. Texas itself had tried to secede from the Union. That lasted one hour, and then our Governor was executed on live television. That's the last time I watched the TV.

"You just need faith in the Living Gods," a woman said behind us, pushing her shopping cart.

I turned to see Happy Roberts pushing a grocery cart. I had attended the Paris Revival for Christ—led by Reverend Meriwether, Happy's husband—until the Ghost and Marybeth seduced me. Having a lesbian girlfriend was really frowned upon by the strict born-again Christians. At least it had been until Meriwether and Happy had become converted to the Living Gods and the Paris Revival for Christ became the Revival for the Living Gods. Happy, who used to dress like a school marm, wore the sluttiest outfit I had ever seen, her skirt barely covering her ass and her blouse was see through, her nipples dark patches.

She was finally dressing like the slut she was in secret. The Ghost had boasted how he had Happy wrapped around his cock, revealing that she loved to cuckold her husband. Now she did it openly. A hunky man walked behind her, one of her many lovers.

"Hello, Mrs. Roberts," I politely nodded.

"Are you falling into this panic?" Happy asked, eyeing my cart.

"Yeah," I said, giving her a sheepish grin.

"You haven't ever come back to the revival since you started dating Marybeth," Happy sighed. "Don't you know how the revival has changed? We don't look down on lesbians anymore. We welcome them." She put her hand on my shoulder. "I love being with women. Even before the Living Gods showed us what true love was." She gave me a wink. "I'd love to share my devotion with you and your delicious tits."

"Well, I, uh, haven't felt the need. Marybeth and I do a lot of loving."

She gave me a grave look. "You are one of the faithful, right?"

"Of course," I lied.

"You're still not hung up on that dastardly Ghost." She shook her head. "He was a disgusting Warlock. I'm so glad the Holy Slut Alison ended his life."

Bitch! I wanted to claw her eyes out. She had the Ghost's child growing inside her and used to be a complete whore for him. Now she hated him.

I kept my cool. "No. I'm not still hung up on him. I ... er ... love the Living Gods." I did until I swore to the Ghost and was freed from Mark and Mary's disgusting powers.

Happy's hand suddenly yanked up my cheerleading skirt. I gasped, my naked pussy on display for the hunky guy with her. He leered at me, licking his lips. I pushed my skirt back down, giving Happy a glare. "What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you're following the precepts." She lifted her skirt up, showing off her pussy covered by a thick, brown bush. "I'm always ready to fuck, right, Zack?"

"Yeah," he grinned.

"My brother-in-law has some nice tackle." Happy patted Zach's bulging jeans. "And Bella and I taught him how to use it proper. Wanna give it a try?"

"Uh, no thanks. I'm in a big hurry."

"You sure? He's quite good. I know you're a cock-hungry slut. All you cheerleaders are." Her hand pushed beneath my skirt, petting my pussy. I shuddered, my eyes closing. A few guys stopped to watch, grinning as I moaned.

"Cheerleader slut," one guy called out.

My nipples dimpled the front of my black top as her fingers probed my pussy. I was still dripping wet from the orgy and her fingers were breathing life back into me. She stroked my clit with her thumb as two fingers worked into my depths.

"You have such a hot cunt," Happy smiled. "I bet you want to just bend over, pull up that pleated skirt, and let one of these hunky guys go to town on this twat."

"I..." I wanted to say no, but the faithful were supposed to be about free love. I glanced at the guys, all grinning at me, bulges tenting the front of their pants. I couldn't fuck them. I was the Ghost's. I swore myself to him just an hour ago. I couldn't let them fuck me.

 
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