by Lily White
"I know you like it, Eunice. There's nothing wrong with that. Just let go to it, beautiful."
Her prayer grew louder, her rebellion making me lose all doubt that she was the perfect person for the purpose I had in mind for her.
Unable to take the cravings of my own body, I gripped my hands to her hips, positioned my cock at her entrance and said, "Pray harder, Eunice, let's see how long you can form words before I make your lungs cry out."
My cock slid inside her, the tight space a blessing to be had, and after crying out from the first time she'd felt a man's touch inside, she fought to pray again.
I laughed, my hips pausing as I absorbed the pleasure of wet heat, the slickness of two bodies combined in the most exquisite of sins. Fornication was the cherry placed atop the sundae created by the Devil himself.
My voice gritty with lust, I laughed and said, "Pray louder, Sister. Because I can promise you, your God isn't listening."
My hips pulled back and thrust in again, my head falling back as her voice broke over the words she spoke to her Lord.
I was talking to him myself as I thanked the Almighty for the treasure he’d bestowed upon me.
JACOB
In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26-27
Ten hours passed after Annabelle killed herself. Ten hours of the police stalking through the sanctuary taking their pictures, drawing their sketches and clearing the scene once the medical examiner had declared the young girl dead. It didn’t take a medical examiner to make that official declaration. The evidence was enough with her brains scattered within the confessional and her blood a large puddle over the sanctuary floor.
They took the gun from the ground where it had fallen, took Annabelle's body away once it had been photographed to their liking, took everything that allowed them to declare that Annabelle had to have been mentally ill.
I knew she wasn't, knew the truth of what had led her to the moment of no return, but I lied to them anyway and claimed that she hadn't confessed a single word before lifting the gun to her head and pulling the trigger.
The police thanked me for my cooperation and left me standing in the sanctuary with nothing more to say.
Leaning against a pew, I stood facing the front doors now closed and locked until a cleaning crew could deal with the confessional. My heart could have stopped beating and it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did now. That poor girl had committed the unforgivable sin of taking her own life, and I began to doubt a faith that would hold her weakness against her.
Ripping the clerical collar from my neck, I held it in my hands staring down at a white strip of cloth that felt like a lie.
I was no better a man today than before making my vows - no stronger, no holier, and no smarter than I'd always been. The only truth about me that I could easily point to was that I was more of a sinner now that I was a priest than I had been as secular man.
I lied.
I fucked.
And I lied some more.
And until now, until watching a girl pushed to a decision that destroyed her, I hadn't felt guilty for any of it.
"Fuck..." I murmured beneath my breath. Staying in place with my face pressed into my hands, I was as lost today as I'd ever been, maybe even more so.
"Is it safe to come out now?"
Ripping my palms from my face, I turned to find Eve standing at the end of the hall leading into the sanctuary. She darted a gaze at the front doors and said, "I saw everybody leave."
Guilt flooded me again to look at her. Instead of immediately calling the cops after Annabelle's suicide, I ran to hide the evidence of my other crimes. I ran to ensure that my name couldn't be dragged in to the investigation regarding an innocent girl's demise.
It was then that I remembered the pictures.
Bolting from the sanctuary, I left Eve in the distance as I ran the halls toward my office. I didn't remember seeing a police officer walk this way, but I couldn't be certain. My door slammed against the wall as I threw it open, my hands shaking by the time I pulled open the drawer to find the photos still in place inside their white envelope. Relief swept over me as I fell into my chair, my head angling back as my eyes closed.
I needed to burn these damn photos before anybody found them. They were polaroids so I doubted there were duplicates, but that didn't mean Elijah hadn't taken more that he'd kept on him.
The stress I felt was eating me alive. And despite how wrong I knew it was, I pushed up from my chair in search of an outlet.
When Eve came into view, still standing at the end of the hall leading to the rectory, I crumpled the envelope and photos in my grip and marched in her direction.
"Elijah?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.
I was on her before she knew what was coming. My fingers fisted in her hair, my lips rubbing along the line of her jaw, and before she could cry out from the pain of my touch, I growled, "I need you in my room, on my bed, without a stitch of clothing on."
ELIJAH
Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil - Aristotle
Buckling my pants, I wore a broad smile as I stepped out of the cabin. Eunice was still strapped down to the platform, tired and sated after I'd had my fun. She wouldn't admit it, but the sounds rolling off her lips told me just how much she'd enjoyed it. Several times during our trysts, the white veil she wore had slipped from her head. I forced her to set it back in place because I found that I liked it.
As soon as I stepped foot outside, Richard moved into the light from behind a tree. Soft laughter shook my shoulders. "Anxious for a piece of this one after letting the boys have a go at the older one?"
His eyes flicked to the cabin before returning to me. "I came to tell you about what just happened at the church."
My attention sharpened. "Don't tell me my brother killed Eve already. He always did play a touch too hard."
"He didn't kill Eve."
Interest arched my brow. "What happened?"
"The girl you fucked, the young virgin we have pictures of, she killed herself in the confessional."
My brows rose higher. "Tell me you're kidding."
"No, sir. She shot herself in the head right there in the box. I rushed out here to find you after one of the family came back from keeping an eye out. She said the cops were all over the parish, but they left within hours."
He paused, his eyes averted to the ground as his boot kicked at a twig. Lifting his gaze to mine, he asked, "Will it be a problem?"
I ran my hand through my hair before tilting my face toward the sky. A spattering of stars twinkled overhead, the dust that scattered out from the moon where it hung full. "No, it won't. In fact, it may help us out more than we realize." Straightening my neck, I smiled. "God is a gracious being."
"That he is," Richard laughed. He was the only man who knew my plan for what it was. And he wasn't like the rest of the family. A non-believer like me, he'd been instrumental in accumulating and acclimating the family to my cause. The family's remarkable faith in the Almighty was one of the main reasons they were so easily manipulated.
The family were a rowdy bunch, full of the spirit, but tired of the way the world was headed. They truly believed that the sinners had brought Hell upon us and that through my leadership they'd take back what they believed should have been theirs all along. They also didn't believe love would be the salvation that rode them all to Heaven's gates - they believed that could only be achieved through war.
None of it mattered to me much. I had one purpose, one single solitary task, and I wouldn't stop until that task had been completed.
"Tell you what, Richard. Eunice will be bored in the cabin all alone. Feel free to ease her suffering any way you like. Just do me a favor and ensure she stays alive. We'll need her to complete her purpose soon."
He cast a questioning glance. "But I thought -"
"I know what you thought. But don't you think it will b
e easier on us if she's able to walk? It will save us the heavy load."
Nodding, he strolled toward the cabin, stopping before he reached the door. "Was she pure like she claimed?"
"She was," I answered, "Which made it all the more sweet. It's hard to find a true virgin these days. You know how women are."
Laughter shook his broad shoulders. "Sluts, all of them."
"All but the family," I replied and winked.
I took a step to head back to the main building, but paused long enough to shout over my shoulder. "Hey, Richard, be sure not to tell her what's coming. It's more fun when you catch the demons off guard."
Richard laughed again and entered the cabin. Even from the distance I had walked by the time he took his piece, I could still hear the bitch screaming.
EVE
What comes out of a person defiles them. For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come. Mark 7:20-21
Light always fades in part when the rush of his lightning touches me. The pain comforts and cleanses. The pleasure fills me until all I am is what he makes of me.
While apart, I'd struggled with the thought that I'd missed something in the past few days that I should have noticed. But then he returned, his body hard, his words demanding, his hands and tongue driving me to the sin I love to hate.
Tied to a bedpost, my arms were locked above my head, my body bent forward, my knees firm against the floor by his bed. My will to deny him was shredded by the promise of his breath across my skin, his words whispering the truth of my temptation, his hands driving out the pulsing need that was the chaos that muddled my thoughts every time he drew near.
My addiction to him is the sweetest of flavors.
Perhaps it was confusion that made me brazen, or sorrow that made me forget, but I'd questioned him when he forced me to his bedroom, I'd had a moment of weakness when I’d attempted to refuse his demands.
Demons are sneaky creatures. They crawl inside you when you're not paying attention and plant evil inside your head. They flay you open and rip out your heart, refilling the empty spaces with questions and doubt, needless panic and nagging whispers.
Even as his hands gripped my hips lifting me so he could drive out the wickedness inside me, I fought a battle against the endless thoughts that I'd been deceived by a man who promised to guide me.
My shoulders burned where they were pulled taut by my bindings, the ache a soft caress of fire down the sides of my body. His tongue was ice against the flame, his breath the steam that erupted when I'd driven him to the point of intoxication.
Filled by him, I moaned to relieve the pressure of his intrusion, the familiar spiral of lust building inside me until I knew that I’d burst all over again. He was always sensual and taunting, cruel and alluring, a man of two faces who plays with me like a forgotten toy rediscovered.
My body moved with his thrusts. My muscles clenched around him until all I knew was him. I bore the marks and bruises that spoke his name only, and I would wear them in this life and the life beyond. One day, I knew he'd destroy me, and I'd happily let go to the tempest storm - to the salvation that only he could deliver.
No matter how badly he hurt me, I would continue to beg for more.
"What have you done to me, Eve? What is it about you that makes it impossible for me to stop?"
His whispered words against my ear seduced me, the smell of his skin against mine a tantalizing perfume that drove me to the brink of insanity. I was a glutton, a junkie, a whore... I was a woman who'd become lost to the sting of his hand, the sharp bite of his teeth, and the sensual burn from the way he filled me.
Again. And again. And again.
I still needed more.
Pleasure exploded inside me. A momentary rush of relief that left me floating with the weightlessness of euphoria. Stars burst behind my eyes, God's promise shining down on me with the serenity of being hollow, with the ceaseless hope that sin would not rush back in to fill the empty spaces.
Almost as soon as he pulled away, I wanted him more, and I knew I'd lost my battle to the demons that plagued me, at least until he filled me again.
JACOB
The spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons. Timothy 4:1
Three days had passed since Annabelle died. The confessional had been removed from the parish, a new dark box replacing it that was donated from a larger city. I'd stared at the striations in the cherry stained wood for over twenty minutes, my head leaned back against the wall, my hands folded in my lap while I waited for any person to feel the need to confess. I wished I could take pleasure in the momentary solitude, but more and more that cramped space felt like a coffin, the clerical collar I wore a noose that threatened to choke me with my own lies.
During the day, I still wore the smile of the parish priest, I still wandered the sanctuary waiting for the moment a parishioner needed me. I hadn't prepared the homily for Sunday Mass, and I hadn't been able to see beyond the darkness that continued to fill me.
Even as I waited, Eve was fresh on my mind. I’d left her bound to my bed, her body exposed, her mouth gagged and her legs spread. My last demand was that she remain in place, waiting until I found the time to play with her again.
The man I was before she walked into my life was gone, replaced with a shadow of who I wished I could have been. There was no hope inside me, no guilt, no emotion, no sorrow. There was only the driving need to take, to taunt, to find joy in the pain I delivered.
In that, Jericho had won. With very little effort, he'd stripped me of the humanity I’d embraced and believed could be whole again. He'd stripped away the cloak I once wore to reveal the darkness that had always been a whisper beneath the surface of my lies.
Left to my imagination inside a box that let in very little light, I thought of how Eve was displayed over my bed, my cock growing hard with anticipation, my hand working to free the button of my pants because there was no shame left anymore to warn me that my actions were wrong.
I had half a mind to drag Eve into the box, to bounce her over my lap rather than wrap my palm over the turgid flesh of a cock that only wanted to be sucked and fucked, licked and stroked, tasted while it worked to torment all the good little girls.
I was a monster, and as my hand stroked from the base to tip, as my fingers squeezed and my mouth opened on a pleasured moan, I allowed my eyes to close and witness the truth of what I'd become.
So close to the moment that my balls would tighten and my climax would cover my hand, I grit my teeth and stroked harder only to hear the door open on the other half of the confessional where I sat. It wasn't enough to know someone sat on the other side of the thin divider, not until a low voice rang through with accusation in its tone.
"I've come to talk to you, Father. Stop being a coward and open the damn screen."
My hand stopped, my climax balancing on that edge, but not providing the relief I sought.
"Mr. Prete," I answered, the hint of sex in my voice.
"Open the screen, Father. We need to talk."
The thought crossed my mind to be honest and tell him I was jacking off. To ask him to take a hike so I could finish myself off. Sorry, Sir. But I can't help your daughter. I'm too much of a monster to save any souls.
Shoving my cock back in my pants, I reached up to slam the small door open. "How can I help you?"
"Tell me what my daughter said to you before she died."
I turned to trace the shadow of his profile with my eyes. "She said she was damned."
Technically I shouldn't have said that much. I'd refused to tell the police because I was bound by the seal of confession.
"I know she was fucking someone, Father. I found her diary, but she didn't list a damn name. I need a name."
"A name won't bring her back," I offered, my tone without any hint of comfort or emotion.
Something slammed into the wood divider between us. I assumed it w
as his fist. "Tell me what my daughter said."
Annoyance filtered through me, sharp and scathing, it was a fire fueling the monster, the smoke choking out the man I'd been before Jericho returned to my life. Like a film I couldn't wash away, it festered and split me open, reaching in to infect every organ, every cell, every tendon until I was consumed within its rancid mouth. What it spit out was a toxin filled with turmoil and pain.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Although my words had been a question, the tone of my voice was edged with warning. I'd lost control, lost all sense of morality, lost everything with each passing day. The truth that I was helpless to save another, that, by design, I was a man who lived to deliver pain, left me open and exposed to the temptation of surrendering myself to the ministrations of my evil.
Whereas Eve was a pure soul clothed in the shell of her darkness, I was the wolf in sheep's clothing, the threat you didn't see until it was too late.
"I'm sure. Just tell me before I rip you out of there and force the words out of you."
Striking flint against stone, his demand had been the spark that ignited the bastard inside of me.
Clearing my throat, I ripped the clerical collar from my throat, dropping it to the floor while I told him what he insisted to know about his precious daughter.
"She was fucking someone, Mr. Prete. Annabelle told me that she enjoyed the feeling of a man's tongue on her cunt. That she wanted a cock shoved so far inside her that she could feel every inch of it pulsing with the need to cum. She wanted whoever it was to leave bite marks on her breasts, wanted his fingers driving her to orgasm, would have sucked off Satan himself as long as she had the opportunity to get off. Your daughter was a whore, Mr. Prete. She fingered herself while giving her confession, her small breathy voice broken up with how good it felt to touch herself. And then after she came, screaming with pleasure as she bounced over her hand, she took out a gun - one I assume she pulled from your unlocked collection - and blew out her brains with her fingers in her body and her come dripping down her leg.