The Devil's Pact Servants' ChroniclesChapter 4: The Artist's First Day free porn video
Wednesday, March 19th, 2014 – Jane Yoshimori – Tacoma, WA
"Very beautiful," the Goddess complimented me as she examined her portrait I had just finished. It was one of several she had commissioned for me. It was a beautiful, and erotic, depiction of the Goddess lounging on a divan, her auburn hair falling about her perfect breasts, her stomach round, pregnant with her divine child.
"Thank you," I murmured, blushing. Being around the Goddess was heady. She was so beautiful, and all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and worship her with my mouth and tongue, tasting her sweet nectar.
I had worshiped her many times already in the month I had stayed at the Murano Hotel. This and my other paintings would adorn their mansion when construction was finished in April. I had painted three others: another portrait of the Goddess, one of the God, and one of them both locked in a passionate embrace. Painting the God was as much fun as the Goddess, and worshiping him was amazing. He was as wonderful a lover as the Goddess, and his cock always felt magical no matter which of my holes he used.
My body was worthy of the Gods' pleasure. I was special. It was such an intoxicating feeling. I never wanted to leave here.
She placed Her hands on my shoulders. "Just wonderful." Her lips brushed my neck as Her pregnant belly pressed against the small of my back. "Have you considered my offer?"
"I have."
"And."
"I would love to be one of your servants."
I was already temporarily bonded to the Goddess. My first night, after that dreadful attack, I had drunk the Divine mix of the Goddess and Her mortal father's seed, binding me too her. It was a temporary measure and I would be freed if I asked for it. But I didn't want to. I wanted to serve Them. How could I not? They were Gods. I had worshiped Them since the day They conquered the false god Brandon.
"Good." She turned me around, leaning down to kiss me on the lips. I melted against Her; so wonderful. "You will be allowed to paint whatever you want, during your free time."
I nodded, "Thank you, my Lady." That's how the maids all addressed Her.
"Report to Pearl. She will have your uniform and tomorrow will be your first day as our maid."
"Right away."
"She'll have a special task for you," She smiled.
Pearl was a beautiful woman, the oldest maid in her thirties, and gave me a motherly smile when I walked downstairs. "Welcome, Jane," she beamed, then handed me a bundle. "Your uniform. Wear it with pride."
"I will." I clutched the bundle to my excited chest.
She bent down and gave me a kiss. "You're free until morning. I'm rooming you with Karishma. Room 617. There's a keycard in the bundle. Go move your belongings there. Dinner's in an hour."
"Thank you, Miss Pearl."
A smile broached her motherly face. "You're just as cute as my Cindy."
"Yes, she is," Violet said, walking by. I bowed to the Slut who walked over and patted my cheek. "Speaking of Cindy..." A hopeful look filled Violet's eyes.
"You're girlfriend is cleaning the pool," Pearl answered. "And she'll be in a lot of trouble if she doesn't finish."
"I'll see she finishes," Violet smiled. "Eventually."
"Well, skedaddle, child," Pearl said to me. "I have to oversee dinner."
"Yes, Miss Pearl."
I didn't sleep well that night, and not because Karishma found my petite body irresistible, though the Indian woman's appetite kept us both up late, I was just so nervous for my first day. I wanted to be the perfect maid for the Gods. I dressed in my uniform, a slutty, French maid's outfit. The skirt was black, with ruffled-lace petticoats underneath that made the skirt puff out and sway as I walked, and the bodice was transparent, my little A cup breasts clear as day. I admired my features in the mirror, my creamy-olive face was framed by my straight, blue-black hair, framing my porcelain features.
"You're a little sex kitten," purred Karishma, hugging me from behind and bending down to kiss my cheek. She wore an identical outfit, and while I looked like a sexy waif, she looked like a sexy bombshell. "Let's go serve the Gods."
I nodded my head.
All the maids gathered in the main dining room to receive our daily assignments. One lucky maid was given the job of cleaning the Gods' suite, which involved administering the God's morning blowjob. Abigail received that honor, and she playfully stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend, Tomoyo, the other Japanese maid. One by one Pearl handed out the assignments until only I remained.
"I have a special job for you in room 205," Pearl answered, handing over a master cardkey. "You are to clean the room and the person occupying it. Do whatever the woman requires."
I nodded my head.
"Tell the woman that you are a gift from the Goddess, fulfilling a promise Mary made to her. Okay??"
"Yes, Miss Pearl."
"Remind this woman that the Gods love her and miss her."
"I will," I answered, trying to sound more confident than I felt. It was my first day and it sounded like they wanted me to work a miracle.
"Don't worry. Mary choose you for this, and the Goddess would never give you a task that you were not equal to."
I nodded. She was right. I could do this. I just wished my bubbling stomach believed me.
Holding my sketchpad with one hand, and a bucket filled with cleaning supplies in the other, I marched to the elevator and went up the single floor. Room 205 was to the left near where the hallway made a turn to the left. I set my bucket down and used the master cardkey to open the door.
The room was dark and the stench was ... ripe. With trepidation, I walked into the room. "H-hello?"
No one answered. A short hallway led past the bathroom to the beds. The curtains were drawn tight, and the only light came from the main hallway flooding past me, my shadow stretching into the darkened room. I took a step into the room, the door swinging shut behind me, the light dwindling, then vanished. My heart thudded so loud as I took a second step down the hallway.
"I-is anyone here?"
I found the light switch. The room was ... messy. Plates were strewn about with half-eaten food and several blankets lay in a pile on the floor. I took another step, seeing the far bed completely stripped of its blankets. A fourth step. A pair of dark legs were stretched on the nearer bed. A fifth step.
A Middle-Eastern woman sat naked on the bed, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes red with tears. A present lay on her lap, unopened, covered by red wrapping paper dotted with cupids. The woman kept staring at it, her eyes dead.
"H-hello."
The woman didn't look up.
"I'm Jane. I'm a new maid, and..." I frowned, there was something familiar about her. Balim. "Y-your the guard that frisked me that day at the ... art museum."
I shuddered. That had been a terrifying day. Those terrible demons had burst out of the ground, throwing spikes of obsidian at us. The Goddess had hurled fire at them and whipped up a great wind to keep them back until the soldiers could arrive. I spent the fight cradling this woman's head on my lap, watching her life pour out of her from the four-inch wide hunk of stone impaled in her chest.
The woman looked up at me, a collar tight about her neck. 24. Her dark eyes were completely dead. She eyed me, then went back to looking at her present, wrapped in red paper dotted with white cupids—a Valentines Day present.
It had been Valentines Day when the demons attacked.
"I-I'm here to clean your room."
The figure shrugged.
"And..." I swallowed. " ... clean you."
She didn't respond.
"I'm also a gift ... from the Goddess. She loves you, 24, and misses you."
"A gift," she rasped, then a dark, almost hysterical chuckle. "Another gift that I can't open."
"You were very brave that day," I said, bending down to pick up the blankets. They reeked. I moved them down the hallway. I'd get her fresh blankets and have these laundered. "You threw yourself in front of the Goddess and took the wound meant for her."
She didn't answer.
I swallowed and, not sure what else to do, I busied myself with throwing garbage into a black trash bag, plates and all. They were ... fuzzy. Her dark eyes were on me the entire time. I cleaned the room as best I could, save for the bed she sat on. I scrubbed the bathroom clean until it sparkled and wiped down all the furniture in the bedroom. As I cleaned, I was starting to wonder if the room was haunted. It seemed there was some figure moving about, brushing me, disturbing the air more than simple drafts. The spirit of 24's dead lover?
It was probably just my overactive imagination; 24's dead gaze was unnerving me.
With everything else clean, that left only the beds. I left the room to get clean linen from the supply closet and made the second bed, then I faced her. "You need to get up so I can..."
She gave me a dead look that spoke volumes.
"You just can't sit there all day. I was ordered to clean you and the room up."
Another look.
I frowned, thinking. "Who's the gift from?"
Her shoulders hunched, hugging the gift to her lap.
"I'm not going to take it from you. I just want to give you a clean bed."
She didn't answer.
Sighing, I sat on the other bed, grabbing my sketch pad. I couldn't fail at my first assignment. There had to be a way to get her to move. I couldn't manhandle her; she was bigger than me. And she was a trained cop. I remembered how she had easily controlled me when she had searched me at the museum. She had been so strong as her fingers penetrated my ass and pussy, stirring me up and making me cum. She had dominated me, forced me to submit to her lusts disguised as a simple pat-down.
It was one of the best cums of my life. She forced me to live out all those dark fantasies trapped in the depths of my soul. The ones I had been too afraid to let anyone know. I was a girl—we weren't supposed to have deviant desires like a guy.
I started sketching her. I often found that when I sketched, and didn't really focus on my drawing, my mind would wander and I would often find the solution to problems. I cocked my head, my charcoal pencil scratching as I drew her. Even dirty, there was a beauty to her: plump lips, dark eyes, round breasts, curvy hips, and gorgeous, sleek legs that just seemed to go on forever.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Immortalizing the squalor you are sitting in," I absently answered. "It's a great study. You capture self-pity perfectly. I..."
"Wallowing!" she flared. "You think I'm wallowing?"
"What are you doing?"
"Grieving!"
"For?"
She glared at me. "Stop drawing me!"
"Then let me do my job," I answered, continuing to sketch. "And don't move. Keep staring down at that gift. You are perfectly capturing self-indulgent pity."
Her face darkened. "You don't understand!"
"No," I answered.
"You're just one of the whores running around here."
"Yeah." My cheeks burned; I still wasn't used to being called a whore.
She shifted, staring at me. "Are you blushing?"
"Yes." I looked down at my sketch pad. "I'm new here..."
"You said you were my gift?" She examined me. "I remember you. Mary commanded me to watch over you carefully. She told me I could do whatever I wanted to you, balim."
My cheeks felt like they were on fire.
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