The couple traveled to Brazil on Victor's private Boeing 727. The plane cost 5oo million dollars after the decorators customized it to fit the Brazilian's taste. It flew over Victor's estates in his motherland, in Pantanal, the place in Brazil where he had most of his cattle ranches.
Inside the aircraft, the couple was naked on the gigantic bed, covered with satin sheets. A wide TV could connect them to the command cabin live. It stood on the wall in front of them, but it was off as the bride sat to serve herself and her groom from the champagne bottle on the night table. She glanced through the plane window and giggled at the stampede. The herd ran frightened, and she clapped her hands with glee.
"So many, Victor!"
Victor Falcone chuckled. "I told you I run a cattle business."
"But you didn't tell me your lands were larger than a few European countries! The pilot said we entered them about half an hour ago."
"Yeah. Part of them gives profit to the Knaast Fund now. It was in our nuptial agreement."
"I couldn't care less, love. It's for dad and his lawyers. I received what matters most. Now I have a Falcone stallion for my pleasure," she purred, kneeling between his legs.
He lowered his lids and licked his lips, watching her. "I never made a better business," he grunted at her wicked movement.
"Me either, my husband. I laugh at myself when I remember how I reacted when my father told me we would marry. I could kill, so mad I got."
"And now?"
"Now, I kill if someone tries to take you from me." She ran manicured fingers up his thighs as she kissed him on the mouth.
Victor wrapped his hands in her silver blond hair and tugged hard. She moaned as he whispered. "I have a special assortment of your favorite pills in our bedroom on the farm. I want you crazy tonight."
"Can you have them here? In this forgotten land?"
"Money helps people remember my wife's needs. And I have more than we will ever need."
"Don't dare me, Victor. I am a Knaast. I spend faster than you can imagine."
"Your father did not explain my business to you, did he? My money gives birth to itself, love."
She positioned herself on him with a moan as a mischievous smile played on her lips. "Tell the pilot I want to see the entire farm."
Victor tapped the controls beside the bed. "Commander Torres. My wife wants to fly over every acre of my lands." The amusement in his voice made his bride tilt her head in a bird-like move.
The pilot laughed. "We don't have fuel for that, Victor. It takes two days to fly over everything, and you know it."
The groom shrugged as Sylvia smirked. "Can you fly on autopilot, commander," she asked."
The man sounded surprised. "Yes, Ma'am. Can I ask you why?
"I feel generous today."
Her groom groaned, guessing his wicked wife's intention. "If the plane crashes, it's on you."
"We will die happy," she whispered, then told the crew. "Turn all the cameras on. We have something for you. A thank you for the delightful trip."
The men obeyed and Sylvia saw the commander's tan face flush as the copilot's Adam's apple bobbed at the naked couple.
Sylvia murmured. "Now, enjoy the show. And let us know how you like it. With enthusiasm, please. If we don't crash, of course," she giggled.
When the plane landed two hours later, an overwhelmed Commander Torres left the cabin to greet his boss and wife. The copilot couldn't grin wider.
Victor snickered at them and slapped Sylvia's tight butt. "Go ahead. I have things to put straight."
She went down the plane's ladder waving the two men goodbye.
The Brazilian business owner turned to the commander. "Torres, my wife has an open mind. She's from a very wealthy family and the only heir of diamond and gold mines. Also, weaponry plants that serve the governments of every country that comes to your mind."
"We know. She is very generous too, and I admire that."
Victor and the copilot exploded in peals of laughter, and the commander got crimson, stuttering. "I meant the donations she gave to Brazill, sir."
Drying his eyes, Victor nodded. "It's okay, Torres. She is a person of many qualities, but I was talking about her upbringing. She never heard a no, and I intend to keep things the same around here. Whatever she wishes, she will get. Do you understand when I say whatever?"
Warmth and freshness whispered around the men on the tarmac as they looked into each other's eyes, but Torres felt boiling in his uniform. The commander broke the silence, sighing. "I enjoy working for you, Mister Falcone, but I am not sure I understand what you mean."
"I think you do, and if you are not ready for that, I can transfer you to my father's crew. You lose nothing. Silence over whatever you hear or see goes without saying as you signed in the contract. What do you say?"
The golden brass on the man's chest got the sun's rays with glee, creating a halo. He fidgeted, glanced at his smiling co-pilot, and sighed again. "I am too old for that, Mister Falcone. I prefer to move to your father's crew."
"Okay. I will call him."
Victor's lips crooked. "Sylvia gets what she wants, but she knows the boundaries. She would never force you, or cause you trouble. Thanks for your service and your silence, my friend."
Torres walked away with relief.
The two other men stayed under the bright Brazilian sun and Victor turned his attention to Montes. "What about you? I see you have no problem as you offered us an inspiring performance."
Montes was a medium height black man, built like a bodybuilder. His almond-shaped dark brown eyes were full of mischief. He laughed, showing white teeth that made a beautiful contrast against his dark skin. Then scratching his straight nose he bowed. "Thank you, it was a pleasure."
Victor smirked. "I saw that."
Grinning, the co-pilot shrugged. "I am open-minded and the woman is yours. If you see no problem, why would I?"
"She may ask for your attention."
"She can ask me whatever she wants."
Victor grinned. "Careful, Montes. She is a tigress."
"I am happy to oblige."
"Good. I will tell her that."
The businessman turned to the commander's retreating. "About the position Torres left. I assume you are not experienced enough for that?"
"I flew birds as big as yours, Mister Falcone. The air force trained me. I am up to the task."
Victor lifted a surprised eyebrow. "Why are you flying for me, Montes?"
The black mountain of a man lifted his hands with fingers open wide. "You pay ten times better, Mister Falcone."
"So, it's all set. Sylvia's father is sending people to work here. People used to their form of living. I will ask him for a co-pilot."
"Can I suggest a name, Mister Falcone?"
"Sure. The new rules apply."
Montes chuckled. "Oh, Vera will love them. I believe she will get along well with Missus Falcone. And I want a more active part in the next show."
The Brazilian proprietor threw back his head and laughed. "Fair enough. Tomorrow at night in the main house. Bring your friend in."
Montes watched his boss walk to his car where his bride waited. He fished his cellphone from his pocket. When the voice answered on the other end, he said, "Vera. I have the job of the century for you with menage granted."
Around the man, the fallen angels celebrated two more souls the Knaast could destroy.
Victor joined his wife in the car. "I think we've got a partner for our nightly parties, dear."
"The muscled black man."
Victor lifted a surprised eyebrow. "How do you know?"
"He looked enthusiastic on the plane, don't you think? I can still see him when I close my eyes."
Victor worried his lower lip with lust. "His black skin will make a striking contrast against your creamy-white paleness. And he suggested a female copilot for his next show. His own words."
"Sounds like Christmas to me," she said, straddling her groom's lap and pulling off her dress.
Victor lifted the tinted window between them and the driver with a button on the door.
"Cars don't have auto-pilot," he lamented with a hoarse voice.
"Isn't it a shame?" she asked, running down his zipper. Both chuckled and lost themselves to pleasure.
Sylvia Knaast did not need to change her habits. Victor did not do drugs, but provided for her and whoever joined their games. They lived in the farmhouse for over a year, in a paradise of sex and drugs. Knaast's Brazilian husband controlled his life with an iron fist. His easygoing nature was for show. Nobody on the farm would dare gossip or say anything unbecoming about their orgies. Victor Falcone was a nice dictator, but a dictator. Exception made for Sylvia. He was good to his own rule and never said no to his pet wife. He had fun with her lustful craziness.
One night, as the full moon silver veil invaded the bedroom General Hazug ripped apart their paradise. Around the house, the grass glistened under the dawn dew. Except for the moon, everything was dark. The artificial lights around the property were off because Sylvia hated the glare.
The couple had shared with Vera and Montes an energetic sex session. The employees were back in their cabins and Sylvia and Victor enjoyed the endorphins. Dozing off in each other's arms, they noticed General Hazug only when he talked.
His voice was thick with lust. "Sylvia Knaast. Introduce me to your husband."
Victor jumped up from the ample bed to face the Renegade general, who looked as he first did when he appeared to Ella. There was fire running through his sword and armor, and the avatar was taller than 8 feet. His feral smile left no doubt the creature standing in front of him was not human.
"Who are you? How did you get inside? What the hell are you wearing?"
The fallen angel laughed. "I am General Hazug from Lucifer's army. I entered because I can materialize wherever I wish, and I am wearing my armor. Any other question?"
Sylvia's husband made the best impersonation of a golden fish ever as she giggled and stood. She knelt to lick the General's toes, as every woman in the family did since Ella. "Master Hazug. It's an honor," she purred.
Her silver hair reflected the moonlight as her breasts swayed with her rocking movement. For once, the sensuality of the act escaped Victor. He was too dumbfounded for that.
Victor followed his wife with wide eyes as Sylvia stood and smiled. "General Hazug owns the Knaast. He gave my family everything we have."
The Brazilian's eyes were wide. "So you know him."
"Yes, he helped my mom to deliver me, and he visited my father countless times. He tells dad the places to mine. We never spend money on lost fields thanks to General Hazug."
Victor put both hands to his head. "Easy, Sylvia. You are telling me that this guy is a demon general who acts as a midwife? How ridiculous is that?"
Hazug bared his pointy teeth in a feral smile. "I could have devoured her because I did it many times. But she was worth living. So you have her."
Victor paled. "You eat babies," he repeated.
"And adults too," Hazug informed.
Sylvia looked at the General. "Please, master. He is in shock."
Victor ran his fingers through his hair. "I need some time here."
"No, dear. You don't need time. Listen. General Hazug made our wedding. He sent messengers to call your attention to me and made you eager to have me. So when I knew you are the future President, I married you to become the first lady. The way you look and the wonderful sex are a plus," she finished shrugging.
"I don't know what to think. Do you serve the devil?"
Sylvia tsked, bored. "Don't look so surprised. You tell me I am a witch every night, babe."
Hazug added, "I can make your dreams come true, Victor Falcone." He crossed his strong arms and enjoyed the show. Sylvia Knaast was funny, depraved, beautiful, and no nonsensical. She would turn Victor Falcone around.
She walked to her husband. Her white skin was pink with excitation. "Accept his offer, Victor," she begged him.
Victor stared into her eyes, shaking his head. "You ask me to make a pact with the devil, woman. And I have no guarantees I will be the President after I lose my soul."
She snorted. "You see too many movies, Victor. You only lose your soul to the devil when you die."
"Aww, so comforting," he mocked her.
"Listen, love. Dead people don't become Presidents. I told you the general promised you will be the president. Use your brains, please."
The man's emerald eyes glinted with greed and ambition. "You mean I can keep my soul and get his help to be the President?"
Hazug approached Victor Falcone.
"My question for you is simple. Do you want to become the president? I can make it happen fast. Otherwise, it will be nothing but a dream. And to ease your mind, I can't take your soul. You must offer it to me, and I can collect it only at death, as Sylvia said. You humans can run to the Creator any time during your life."
Victor hesitated, the temptation was too immeasurable, but his heart and soul fluttered with fear. His wife used his ambition to press him into the pact.
"Come on, love. We will be the most handsome couple to rule any land," Sylvia urged him.
Victor breathed in. "What do I need to do?" His eyes glued to the Renegade General's ones. The vision was mythological and impossible to ignore or pretend he was good. The red fire in his sword and armor was red, and it reminded too many pictures depicting hell.
Hazug saw what was in Victor's mind and smiled. "You need to share your wife. That's all."
Victor tilted his head, surprised. "How?"
Hazug smirked. "The usual way."
The man licked his lips and glanced at Sylvia. She was rubbing her naked body on the creature, and Victor lifted his eyebrow. "She seems to be in the idea."
Sylvia turned pleading eyes to Falcone. "Please, dear. I dream of having him in my bed since I was a girl."
A single crease appeared on Victor's forehead, but it vanished as he made up his mind. "Will I be the President, general?"
"If you agree, yes. Will you share your wife?"
She giggled, and her husband nodded slowly. "I never say no to Sylvia. If she wants it, I do too."
"I do," she hurried to declare.
Renegade General Hazug's body blurred, and the creature flamed off in a flurry of embers. Fractions of a second were all it took, and Victor Falcone fell to his knees with a gurgled sound of fear and pain.
The possession to spawn the Knaast heir started.