Page 12 of Remorseless Sinner

Saul

M y wife and I walked up to the neat brownstone house in the city that our parents shared. It was time for our first dinner party as a married couple.

A dinner party that the guests were required to attend.

“Why are we going to this?” she asked.

“Because I said so,” I replied, my hand twining in her hair.

I could not stop touching her, loving the feel of her, everything from her soft skin and silky hair to the seed I could smell leaking out of her pussy, soaking her panties.

“I think you’ll enjoy yourself. Do you feel any pregnancy symptoms?” I asked, pressing the doorbell.

She stared at me.

“It has been four days since we got married.”

“Well, do you?”

I could not wait until she had all the symptoms—tiredness so I could carry her around, nausea so I could cook for her, a round swollen belly so I could feel our baby kick.

Gracie’s mouth was still open in shock with the door opened and she went her mother into the kitchen.

I watched her go, then turned to my father.

“Where’s Meier?” I asked him sharply.

“Down the hall,” he said. “Saul—”

But I was already gone.

I kicked open the door of the bathroom and he was just finishing up a piss, whirling around so fast he zipped his balls up in his pants and howled in pain.

“Hello, motherfucker,” I said conversationally as I flicked out my knife and pressed it to his throat.

The doctor was sweating, pee dribbling out from his dick and soaking the front of his pants and the bathroom floor.

“We did what you asked, Saul. We did everything you said, now what’s the problem?”

I moved the knife down his throat, raising a thin line of blood as the shiny blade glistened.

“I don't recall telling you to say all those things about Gracie.”

Meier looked panicked, his face gray, sticky with flop sweat.

“Well, how else could we have made it happen? You got what you wanted, didn't you? You're married, aren't you?”

“I find I don't like when people say those kind of things about her,” I said reflectively, curving the blade up again.

Damn, it was just like being a teenager again. Carving Gracie’s name into every surface I saw.

“What do you want from us? What are we supposed to do about that? I can't take it back now.”

I raised my knife, watching the blood drip from that lovely G on his throat, and leaning my back against the bathroom door.

“Be careful with that thing,” he begged, “You know, you could hurt someone!”

“I don't know if I'm in the mood to be cautious,” I said, wiping the knife on his pants. “Perhaps Gracie would like some appreciation for all the things she's done for this Church. I feel she's not appreciated. You know?”

“Anything, Saul, anything. Just leave us alone.”

I left him with his dribbling dick in the bathroom, but it’s not over. I'm not going to leave them alone.

When I came out, our parents were in the hallway.

“I think you need to leave town,” I said, looking at my father and stepmother. “For your own safety.”

They looked at each other in consternation.

“We did everything you wanted, and you are married now,” Diane protested.

I shrugged. “I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay. I’d leave town but it’s up to you.”

“You're not--you're not a rational man,” Father cried, his spectacles fogging up as he looked incredulously at me. “How could you make this bargain, this deal with us, when you got everything you wanted and you still aren’t happy?”

I looked pityingly at him.

He never understood me, and he never would. I didn’t care about the money I had given them.

I had been raised to have single-minded, absolute devotion to the Eye.

To think of nothing but the Great Serpent.

But that had changed the moment I’d seen Gracie. An entire lifetime of devotion to the Eye had vanished and all been transferred with extreme, dizzying power, to her.

I didn’t care about the money. Only about revenge.

“Complaining about a few names the Elders called your wife? This is not the action of a sane man. How could we ever make a bargain with you in the future?”

I only smiled.

They didn't understand me, and they never would.

“I’m not a sane man,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been sane. I wouldn’t know what that feels like. I did know I don’t forget an insult to my wife.”

Then I left and went to find her.

I walked into the kitchen and Gracie was already fucking elbows-deep in dirty pots and pans like the good obedient girl she was not .

“Is this what they’ve got you out here doing?” I asked sharply.

“I’m happy to do it,” she protested. “It is a daughter’s duty.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you do it. You are going to go out there and eat your food. Not sit in here while your food gets cold.”

“And if I refuse?” she asked, her eyes sparking at me.

“You won’t refuse. Because you know I’ll fucking enforce this on you. My wife is not going to be out here as the dishes bitch. Put the plate down, Gracie.”

As we sat down to the dinner, the other Elders gathered around the table, I held my wife’s hand as Father said grace, the feeling of her soft fingers going right to my cock.

Dinner was very subdued, with nervous glances over at us, but I took a big uncaring bite of spaghetti.

“Gracie,” Dr. Meier said, clearing his throat. “I take back what I said the other day. I was mistaken.”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“I was mistaken,” he repeated, and I heard the wet swish of him wiping wet palms down his pants. “You weren't trying to seduce me at all. I apologize for saying you were. I beg of you to forgive me.”

Her face looked surprised.

Very pleasurable.

Pastor Mickelson coughed. “And I don't think I've ever told you, Gracie, but you make an absolutely lovely meatloaf. I, er—greatly appreciate all the times you’ve cooked for potluck.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“And cleaned,” he added. “It is much appreciated.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously.

I felt that feral, primal urge rise up in me.

This was the real me. I might look more respectable now, I might wear a suit now, but deep inside, I was still that guy.

That unsettling guy.

The one who had a bone-fucking-deep fixation with his stepsister.

I held her hand in mine, loving the feel of her soft fingers, tracing the stone on her wedding band. Biggest goddamn ruby I could find.

I won Gracie with blood and brutality.

This was all I had worked toward from the very moment I had met her.

Gracie had fought against me, had resisted, but I knew her better than she knew herself, and I knew she loved me.

I could not resist a smile at her cleverness, the methods she had used to keep me away.

Adorable, all of them. But totally ineffective.

“My meatloaf?” she asked neutrally.

“Yes,” Pastor Mickelson said, sweating profusely. “It's very appreciated.”

“All right,” was all she replied, and then she bent her head to the spaghetti without another word.

The meal was quiet and I supposed for other people it might have been very awkward.

For me, I was humming with pleasure.

As we got up to leave, I noticed Gracie’s boots on the rack.

“How about you clean her shoes before we leave?” I said to my parents.

My father flushed angrily, looking around in embarrassment at the other Elders.

“I don't think that's necessary, son, that is only what her duty is as a daughter.”

“I think you should clean her boots,” I repeated. “Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?”

And so they both dropped to their knees.

As I looked up at her to see what her expression would be, gorging myself on her beautiful face and plump lips, my father took her left boot, and her mother took her right boot.

They had sold Gracie, sold her without remorse to a hard, cruel man, and I did not forgive that.

Even though it was me.

I was anxious to see what her eyes would look like.

She didn't look at me at first, and I saw her chew her bottom lip a bit, but I could feel excitement rising inside me as they carefully buffed every bit of the mud and dirt away. Then she looked up and my wife met my eyes, and there was a distinct and unmissable challenge in them.

“There, you missed a bit,” Gracie said in her quiet, sweet voice. “On the side there. And don't forget the heel.”

There was silence for a moment, and I wondered if my father would refuse, but instead he bent lower and wiped the side of her black boots and then the heel, cleaning vigorously.

What was her next plan?

Surely, she had to admit it now. She had to admit what was inside her was wrong, depraved, and dirty. She was just like me, if she would only admit it.

But Gracie did not say that and I took her home buzzing with anticipation.

I could hardly wait to hear her submission.

Was she pregnant already?

I could feel her fertility ripening, even though she denied it.