Chapter 56

0445 hours, local time
Thursday, 18 June, 2015
Temporary Howard Residence
Dubuque, Iowa

The Prophet David Howard was jolted awake by one of his aides while still lying between Claire and Mercedes Howard, two of his less famous, still beloved wives.

“Governor, Indianapolis has fallen! The war in Indiana is over!” the aide, Second Lieutenant Brittany Coleman, informed him.

David Howard sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Claire and Mercedes, who still slept curled against him. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath before responding, “How did it happen?”

“Voluntary, but conditional surrender. Amnesty granted to most leaders, but with no guarantees of future political prospects. No harm to innocent relatives. That kind of thing. All must swear allegiance to the Coalition and the city will be under military occupation for some time yet. It was the best terms a clearly vanquished enemy could expect ... under the present circumstances. The leaders of ECC are preparing to draft a temporary charter for government, a sort of transitional constitution, if you will. One of them will become Governor of Indiana Free State. Soon. Not sure who,” Brittany continued, even as the Prophet unzipped her pants and lowered them ... she knew what was next.

Minutes later, the Prophet David Howard, also Interim Governor of Iowa Free State, was balls deep inside Lieutenant Coleman, as he had been plenty of times before. She was a month pregnant and they would always find out the father’s (or fathers’) identity in good time. She hadn’t swollen enough to need a new pair of trousers yet, but by that time, she could go on leave or be demobilized for a while or something like that. What was one staff officer to the next generation of soldiers?

Claire stirred, rolling over with a sleepy groan—the mattress shifting beneath her weight—but didn’t wake. Mercedes, however, cracked one eye open, watching with detached amusement as Brittany bit her lip to keep quiet.

“You wake me up for war,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep and her Brazilian accent, “but not for this?” Wagging her right index finger playfully, she scooted over, spread Brittany’s cheeks, and began rimming her with abandon.

The lieutenant gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as David thrust deeper—but the Prophet’s rhythm faltered when the bedroom door creaked open. Another aide entered, this one Second Lieutenant Daniel Orange, and the Prophet directed him to read his report aloud, too.

Lieutenant Orange coughed, but then proceeded, “At 0345 hours, local time, advanced elements of the East Missouri Havenite Militia opened fire with howitzers and self-propelled artillery at New Covenant positions in Columbia, Missouri. Then, after forty minutes of heavy bombardment, six Apache helicopters began strafing New Covenant ground forces. The offensive into Church, Commonwealth, and Army of the New Covenant territory has commenced.”

“And Emporia, Kansas, was captured last night by the Kansas Havenite Militia, Rao is rather vulnerable to the pressure on multiple fronts. Have our forces strike from Omaha at his forward positions, but use our best special operations troops lead the way before the main assault. Use the Airborne Battalion right afterward, to disrupt his defenses from behind,” the Prophet commanded, “Give those orders straight to Tozroman,” the Prophet alluded to Tozroman, the demon who was part of his own household and served as Secretary of War.

Lieutenant Orange immediately saluted and left, not affected by a very familiar sight by now.

David sighed before thrusting into Brittany again, who clutched the sheets tighter as Mercedes’s tongue worked her asshole in sync with his cock. Claire, waking up now, rose, went behind Mercedes, and began licking the Brazilian woman’s booty for her part with obvious enthusiasm. She loved the taste of great lady ass, after all.

The Prophet’s hands gripped Brittany’s waist as she moaned into the pillow, trying to keep quiet despite the pleasure. Since she had Schumacher Syndrome like most Iowans of age these days, she was practically what people used to call a “nymphomaniac,” now known as hypersexual. She was also hyperfertile as a result, so could easily be pregnant with twins or even triplets.

Claire’s tongue traced Mercedes’s puckered hole with practiced ease, her fingers digging into the Brazilian woman’s hips as she worked her into a shuddering climax. Mercedes arched her back, pressing her face into Brittany’s anus while muffling a cry—her dark curls sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. The Prophet watched them both with predatory satisfaction, his gaze flicking to the door as the new maid entered. The maid, Nicolette, began licking Claire’s eagerly.

The Prophet groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as Brittany clenched around him. “You take it so well,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot. Then, with a shudder, he buried himself to the hilt and came inside her—hot and thick—just as Brittany’s own orgasm hit, her thighs trembling as she creamed around him.

Withdrawing slowly, slick with her arousal, David turned his attention to Nicolette, who was still dutifully servicing Claire. He gripped Nicolette’s hips, lined himself up, and pushed into her from behind without ceremony. Brittany’s juices still glistened on his cock, mixing now with Nicolette’s own wetness as she gasped, spreading wider to accommodate him. Claire moaned against Mercedes, her tongue still working furiously, as Nicolette’s fingers twisted in the sheets.