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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
A faint smile formed on her lovely lips. "You must help me cleanse myself of the sins of Eve. You remember, don't you, Father?"
He sighed. "Rebecca, this is ridiculous. Release me now!"
Reaching down, she picked up a large silver knife from the floor beside her, then holding it up slowly ran her finger over the blade, wincing slightly in mock pain.
Realising the precarious situation he had found himself in, he began to feel a grip of panic.
"Rebecca, God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more sorrow, or crying. There shall there be no more pain, for the former things are passed away... Revelations two... " He couldn't quite remember the rest of the verse, but he hoped and prayed that he might be able to convince her to heed his desperate pleas.
She smiled contentedly, then calmly and without uttering another word, began to systematically slice away at the priest's robe. Despite his protests and attempts to reason with her, within minutes his earthly disguise of righteousness had disappeared. She tossed the knife down.
Stripped of his overly modest clothing, but not his ungodly lust, he now displayed a full and raging erection. He knew it. She had come to take him again, to tempt him with her evil ways. He must resist the temptation of his body's need for pleasure.
As she knelt there, he gained a full and clear view of her nubile body. Swallowing and staring unashamedly at her long dark curls, falling over her delicate shoulders and breasts to teasingly lick at her pert nipples. He let his gaze drop. A small slither of glistening pink flesh peeped though the dark wisps of hair that now covered her once bare temptation. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on his face. Tomorrow, he would be a repentant man; now however, powerless to defend himself against her wicked temptation, he took a deep breath and, like so many times before, he prepared himself to be taken by the pleasures of the flesh.
Rebecca leaned over, allowing her firm nipples graze his belly and chest before she pressed herself down against his quivering, flabby flesh. The erection now pressed hard up against the softness of her pubic hair, and her face nuzzled against his sagging skin of his neck. For several minutes she lay there before lifting herself up on one hand, and then running the other down his belly. Forgetting everything, he closed his eyes to savour her sensual touch. Her breath became a heavy and excited pant as she moved further down his body. With each movement she made, he felt an increased throbbing between his legs. She hesitated, letting the moistness of her warm breath caress his hardness for a moment, then wrapping her fingers around the base of his shaft she gently flicked her tongue over the tip. At first his body stiffened as he let out a low moan, then as he felt his erection sliding into her warm and wet mouth, all the tension began to flow from his body.
What could he do? What power does a man have against the temptations of one who is in league with the devil? In no time at all, he found himself being lulled and seduced by her, just like he had before. Her sweet scent; her soft voice; her very presence intoxicated him.
Through bleary eyes, he watched over his chest as it heaved up and down. His mouth had become dry as he panted with sinful and heated excitement, but there was no need for him to speak. Rebecca knew exactly what he needed. Indeed, the girl had most certainly become a woman!
Flicking her tongue in and out, as she sucked him deep inside her hungry mouth, rubbing her scarlet lips over him with each thrust as her warm saliva dripped down on his sack. Any time now he would surely explode. Any minute... Any second... Suddenly, he felt a rush of cool air on his hard and hot flesh.
"Behold Satan's evil tool!" She announced accusingly, shattering his euphoric state, and pointing down at his groin.
His eyes flashed open, as he desperately tried to counter her accusation, "No, no!" He pleaded, desperate for her to continue. "It's the tool of man. I am a son of Adam!"
She hesitated; his words violated the pure thoughts of the task she had been sent to perform. She felt confused, then in a voice lowered and trembling with determination, she continued, "Liar! You are an evil servant of Satan!"
Turning her attention to a large wooden cross on the far wall of the room, tears began to form in her eyes, just as they had all those years ago, each time she had prayed for her suffering to stop. The cross was the symbol of suffering—her suffering each time he coerced her into that musty smelling room to be alone with him. Suffering brings us closer to God. Jesus suffered for our sins. Suffer the little children. Suffering makes us stronger. Suffering brings us closer to all things pure and heavenly. So many thoughts filled her head, confusing her, making it hard to remember... hard to think...
She stiffened then took a deep breath as if to reinforce her resolve.
Rebecca had suffered. Rebecca had suffered for such a long time, she could now do no wrong. Rebecca had ceased to sin.
She stood up and walked over to where the crucifix hung. Staring up at it for a moment she hesitated then crossed herself before reaching up and removing it. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer before turning and walking back to kneel beside him once more. Placing the end of the cross between his spread legs, she pressed it firmly up against his anus. His eyes widened. "Rebecca! What are you doing?"
She bit down on the side of her low lip and with one lunge managed to tear past his tight sphincter to force it deep inside. He screamed and his face contorted in terror and pain. Tears began to stream down his face as he sobbed, like a terrified child in pain, Rebecca observed with cool indifference. Then glaring down at him, and with firm and determined hand, she forced it deep inside.
"No, Rebecca! Please! Don't..." He cried out and his body jerked violently as his agony interrupted his pleas.
"No Father! Please, please don't..." The trembling voice of a child echoed inside her head, her own words taunting and torturing her as they had for so many years. After today, they would haunt her no more.
"Please, Rebecca. I beg you!" His pleas were like torturous barbs tearing open old wounds that, with time, had become toxic with bitterness and disgust urging her on and giving her the divine strength required to do what needed to be done.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways.
His chest heaved and his aging face glistened with sweat as he twisted and struggled, unable to free himself from the agonizing impalement.
Panting heavily Rebecca hesitated as if needing to regain her strength. She looked down at the shiny blade resting on his tattered robe, then picked up it up.
"Rebecca, no!" he gasped.
Her lovely face contorted, and her eyes blackened with rage as she mined deep into her soul for the lode of ice cold hatred hidden beneath the guise of beauty, youth, and innocence for so many years. Grabbing hold of his flaccid organ, she slashed the blade across his scrotum. He howled—a hollow scream that caused her to hesitate and recoil as his blood sprayed from the gaping wound to splatter over her pale skin before forming an ever-widening stain on the floor beneath.
God's children must be strong and brave.
"Please, Rebecca..." he pleaded, his voice now low and husky—almost a whisper between his whimpering and sniffling.
Ignoring him, she wrapped her blood-smeared fingers around his vile tool and lifted the knife again.
His brow furrowed, and his eyes bulged and watered.
A smug grin formed on her lovely lips as she stared down at him. She slowly nodded, and then with full and hateful vigour slashed silver blade across his trembling flesh to sever the evil tool from his convulsing body. A heavy gush of his warm blood squirted up over her belly and trickled down between her legs soaking her soft pubic hair.
He screamed—a long harrowing squall of pain. She closed her eyes for moment—every minute of his suffering needed to be savoured. No longer a strong or young man, how much could his now aged body take? His mouth dropped open and his lower lip quivered slightly before his face reddened and his lips appeared to swell up and turn an odd shade of purple. He gasped a couple of times as if tying to speak, then the flush of colour drained from his face, and his eyes dropped open to stare vacantly up at the ceiling.
"Revenge is mine, saith the Lord!"
Her words bellowed triumphantly, as glistening tears streamed down her soft cheeks; at last she could hold her head up high and proud. The limp and lifeless body that lay naked before her had earlier screamed a chorus of agony, but now the mouth refused to sing another note of suffering. She scowled, closed her eyes, then inhaled deeply—his filthy blood reeked of evil. The stench of a sinner! Yes, but not enough to eliminate the gratifyingly unsoured scent of revenge. No longer begging and pleading for mercy, his deathly silence washed her with a peace and tranquillity she had once thought unattainable. She smiled then reached across to pick up the tattered Bible she had earlier place on the nearby table. Holding it to bosom she beamed and whispered, "Praise the Lord. Cleansed—cleansed at last."
She then took held the severed phallus up high, and let the warm blood trickle down her arm. Today she had done a brave and noble thing. Angels in heaven would rejoice that one of Satan's servants had been slain.
"Praise the Lord."
Part Four—epilogue: Sixteen years earlier a little girl found herself orphaned and homeless. As she sat the steps of the town's local church, tears welled up in her innocent dark eyes, as she wondered what the future would bring.