Rebecca by Alex Bragi
Special thanks to my mentor Bragi.
Edited: Electric Badger and Cromedome11. My thanks to both.
Warning: This story contains descriptions of murder and mutilation, also if you are a theist, or more particularly a Christian, you may find this story offensive and may prefer to back click now.
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Revenge is an ugly emotion. It's a poison that threatens the very purity of your soul. It's an abscess that time allows to fester into a ghastly wound. The more you try to fight it, the stronger it becomes until you feel as if it controls your very being. It's a frightful demon that possesses you and needs to be exorcised. You must free yourself if you are to be righteous and clean. You can not enter the kingdom of heaven with tainted and impure thoughts of vengeance and loathing in your heart. You must purge yourself of the misdeeds of those who have sinned against you.
Part One:
An elderly priest leaned back in his favourite armchair and began sorting through his mail, when a knock at his door disturbed him. Who could it be, on a Tuesday, his day off? He ran his hand over his balding head, sighed and lifted his cumbersome body up to waddle across the room. He opened the door and he stood there in disbelief.
"Rebecca?"
"You remember me Father."
"Of course, but why have you come back?"
"I had to come, you know I did."
"Money? Is that what you want? I have none, you must know that," he snapped.
She stifled a sneer, then adjusted the oversized bag slung across her shoulder before responding, "Money? Money is the root of all evil, Father." She hesitated and turned to look around at the path and road at the front of the parish. "Please, must we talk out here?"
Staring at her for a moment, he realized just how much she changed in a little over a decade. Her eyes were still large and deep blue; her features near perfect however, through the cover of her soft flowing dress, he observed her body had matured into a full, womanly form.
"Alright, you'd better come in," he said, his mouth twitching nervously as he stood to one side.
Part Two:
The elderly priest and fresh faced young woman sat opposite each other in the front room of his church's parish. She balanced a cup and a saucer demurely on her knees. He pursed his lips and stared down at the floor clasping, and unclasping, his sweaty hands.
"You shouldn't have come."
"I told you, Father, I had to come."
"After all these years?"
"Yes. We have unfinished business, you and I—confession."
"You bore the sins of Eve in your soul, all women do!" His voice barely concealed his contempt.
She hesitated then leaned over to gently nudge his hand, "Please Father, drink your tea, then we will pray, and I promise I will leave and you will never see me again."
Those words brought a faint smile to her lips.
Lifting his cup he took a few sips. His podgy hands trembled and his minded raced with just one question—why had she really come? He frowned and took a few more sips. He felt strange, dizzy and light headed. It was she! Yes, it had to be—her wicked and lustful presence tempting him just like it had all those years ago. It couldn't be his fault. It had to be her, Rebecca—a daughter of Eve, the original sinner!
He flicked her a quick glance, and couldn't help but notice the fine fabric of her dress straining against the fullness of her round, ripe breasts. Beads of sweat formed on his temple as once more he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He said a silent prayer, "Forgive me, Lord, for I am tempted by evils of this wicked woman."
Noticing where his eyes had strayed, Rebecca placed her cup on the table then smiling, slowly traced a single finger over her neckline. "You like what you see?"
His breathing became heavier as his eyes locked on her breasts. The mesmerised expression on his face pleased her.
Rebecca knew the time had come. Partially closing her eyes she ran her wet tongue over her full lips and began unbuttoning her dress to reveal her nubile breasts. Overcome with his own lust and powerless to stop her, he watched as she stood up and let her dress slip down around her feet. As she stepped out of it he blinked and noticed, for the first time, her shoes—high, shiny, and black—the same colour as her skimpy panties. His hand trembled as he managed to place his cup and saucer down on the table.
She took a step towards him; he gulped audibly and then almost collapsed backwards in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to gather his thoughts. As he inhaled her sweet feminine scent, however, lustful memories began to flood into his head, drowning him in his own salacious desires.
"Oh, God!" he gasped, but even God himself couldn't have prevented that throbbing need between the priest's legs at that moment.
Rebecca leaned over; then cupping her lovely plump breasts in her hands, lifted them as if offering them, while gently rubbing the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.
"The forbidden fruit is fully ripe now, Father." She smiled and lifted one breast, before parting her lips and flicking her wet tongue across the nipple.
He felt a strange and unfamiliar tingling through his body as the room began to spin. He tried to stand up but couldn't, then everything went black, black as the deepest depths of hell.
Part Three:
Thirty minutes later Rebecca, disrobed of all her earthly covering, knelt quietly on the floor as he blinked and laboured against heavy lids to open his eyes. As his vision became clearer, he swallowed and looked up. Surely an angel of heavenly beauty and innocence had floated down beside him. Instinctively he ran his thick tongue over his lips. Had he perhaps reached the celestial heights of heaven as he had envisioned them in his darkest and most unholy fantasies? He tried to lift himself, but a dull throbbing pain in his head quickly confirmed that indeed he had not. An odd mixture of floor wax and sweet femininity filled his nostrils as he struggled to imagine how he had come to be lying on the floor. He blinked again, and as he began to gain full consciousness, his memory became clearer.
"You remember now, don't you, Father? A woman's beauty is her moral sin. "
He responded with a pained groan. The tea, she had slipped something in it! He tried to sit up, but this time it wasn't his aching head that prevented his movement. Frowning, he glanced to the left and then the right. His wrists had been secured by metal cuffs that in turn had been secured to the foot of the heavy settee he had been sitting on. His ankles, too, had been secured tightly with a nylon rope were now separated by an elaborate mangle of knots attached by one length around the base of a large cupboard.
"Release me!"