Eden Falls [F20/M40s] [Corruption] [D/s] [Slow Burn]

Eden Falls
By Ebon Caine
Chapter 1

It was a crisp Autumn Saturday morning in Eden Falls as Vincent Knight carried a large parcel along Main Street's cobblestone sidewalk. Sunlight filtered gently through the clouds, illuminating quaint storefronts and bustling locals.

On any other day, Vincent would have warmly greeted those he passed. Today, however, their quiet nods and averted gazes kept him silent. Kept him moving.

They knew. Of course, they knew. Word traveled quickly in Eden Falls—a few whispers in church were all it took.

Their unspoken pity pressed at him. Pity, and barely bridled judgement.

Despite this, Vincent squared his shoulders and held his head high. At forty-two, he'd face harsher setbacks in his life. He told himself this, and he almost believed it.

He stepped into Eden Falls' modest post office, setting the parcel heavily onto the shipping counter. The clerk avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the box. On a piece of tape clinging stubbornly to its side. Vincent ripped the tape off in a single pull, startling the young woman.

Vincent looked through the box one last time. Inside: prayer books, clothes, and a handful of trinkets June had asked be shipped to her. Relief mixed with a sharp, unexpected pang.

He steadied himself. Mindfulness. Discipline. Control. The old tenets.

He murmured the quote he often shared with his philosophy students:

*"The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injustice."*

With careful calm, he sealed the box. Closed the last door on his marriage.

The clerk behind the counter offered a hesitant smile. Vincent nodded politely, catching the flicker of discomfort in her eyes.

"Expedited, please," he said.

"Of course," she replied softly, eyes dropping.

Vincent didn't look back as he stepped into the late morning light. He'd walked barely a minute before a thick hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey there, Vince. Good to see you out," came the familiar rumble of Matt White.

Vincent glanced over at his thick-necked, balding neighbor. "How goes it, Matt? Here for the Farmer's Market?"

Matt let out a hearty chuckle. "Yup. Wife sent me to resupply the ol' homestead while she's cleaning." He waved a weathered notepad. "Gave me a list and everything."

Vincent managed a brief smile. "About time Sabrina put you to work. The girls with you?"

Matt shook his head. "Nah, they're at the lake with the church youth group. You know how they love to swim."

Vincent's smile faded. "Yeah." He let out a breath. "I'm sure they do."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Look, Vince. I've been meaning to say—"

"It's all right, Matt," Vincent cut in. "No need. Really. These things pass."

Matt shook his head. "Come on, Vince. Everyone knows it's crap. You two spent, what, seven years building a life here? And she just throws it away."

"She wanted kids," Vincent said, voice level. "The heart wants what it wants."

Matt glanced around, lowering his voice. "That's bullshit, Vince. You could have adopted. You could have—"

"We could have done a lot, Matt. But she made her choice. I'm not going to dwell."

Matt sighed, some color draining from his cheeks. "I just don't see how you stay so calm. I get furious just thinking about it."

Vincent offered a wry smile. "What's the verse from Proverbs? 'He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city.'"

Matt stared. "Jeeze, Vince. How do you remember all that?"

*Because I READ it, Matt. Because I read it,* Vincent thought, then shrugged. "Lead enough bible studies, stuff just starts to stick."

Matt barked a laugh. "Ain't that the truth!" He clapped Vincent's shoulder with one beefy hand. "We all admire you, you know. All of us at the church, I mean. June might've brought you here with her to Eden Falls, but we got the better end of the deal when she left."

Vincent glanced skyward, the sun glinting in his dark eyes. *God's truth, huh?* He patted Matt's elbow. "Let's hope so. I have to run, Matt."

"Yeah, sure. Good talking, Vince."

They shook hands and Matt headed toward the market. Vincent had barely turned before Matt called out, "Oh, Vince! You mentioned Bible study? I, uh, don't suppose you're feeling up for starting Lily's lessons again?"

Vincent felt something tighten in his chest. A phantom pain of a life now denied him.

He stood there with that feeling for several long seconds before nodding. "Yes, Matt. Of course."

Matt frowned. "You sure, Vince? I can tell her you need more time."

"I'm sure, Matt. Tell her I'll do it. I've got the house cleaned up now. She can come over tonight."

Matt hesitated, but finally exhaled a long, relieved breath. "Good. She's been asking every day, it seems. We told her it might take you some time to... You know."

"I do. But it's fine. Busy is best at times like this."

"Preaching to the choir!" Matt grinned. "Thanks again. See ya, Vince!"

Vincent lifted a hand in farewell, watching Matt disappear into the market before turning back down the cobblestone street.

***

Lily glanced at her father, doing her best to mask her excitement. She adjusted the thick-framed glasses perched on her nose with a shaky hand.

"So he's going to tutor me again? Really? *Really*, really?"

"Really, really," Matt confirmed with that booming laugh of his. "Vince said you could come over tonight if you're still up for it."

"Of course, I want to!" Lily coughed, her heart hammering as she tried to keep her composure. "I mean, I've been praying for him. I want to make sure he's okay."

"You're a good girl, Lily," Matt said, setting a bag of apples on the table. "Vince has been different since... well, you know. Quieter. He's putting on a good face, but I think it'll do him good to be around someone more... energetic. Maybe you'll cheer him up."

A tight, anxious anticipation bloomed in Lily's chest. Mr. Knight had been a constant presence in her life since he'd moved to Eden Falls seven years ago—her teacher in faith, discipline, and virtue.

But she'd also learned something about herself from him she could never voice aloud. Something dark and sinful, threading itself into secret thoughts and forbidden dreams. Something growing with each church gathering and study group. It had crept in over the years, so slowly she hadn't noticed until...

Lily swallowed and nodded quickly. "Yeah. It'd be nice to help him out."

Matt smiled wide and reached to muss her smooth blonde hair. "You're like the niece he never had," he chuckled.

Lily managed a small laugh. "Yeah," she murmured. "*Niece...*"

She hugged her dad and retreated to her room, closing the door a little too quickly behind her. The sunlight played across her bed, lighting up her collection of plush animals she felt far too old for and the bright carpet from a childhood she'd long left behind.

At her closet, Lily ran trembling fingers over crisp blouses and prim skirts. Her body was already humming, that tight, guilty excitement threading through her nerves. *Just picking clothes,* she told herself, even as her pulse drummed in her ears.

She opened her top drawer. Rows of panties—cotton, lace, a few pairs she'd hidden from her mother—stared back at her. Her hand hovered indecisively, finally settling on the white silk pair trimmed in green, soft and a little bit too snug. She pressed the fabric to her cheek, savoring the almost slick texture.

*Would he notice?* The thought flashed unbidden as she changed, and her cheeks went hot. She knew he wouldn't. Knew there was no way unless she bent over to show him.

Or if she just pulled up her skirt to let him see. She imagined his gaze lingering on the silky cleft between her thighs—

She cut herself off, biting her lip hard enough to taste blood. Her thighs pressed tight. If she wasn't careful, she'd have to change panties before she even left her room.

*It's not like that,* she told herself. *It's not anything. Just nerves. Just wanting to look nice for Mr. Knight. That's all.*

*But there was no longer a Mrs. Knight...*

That fact had always been her strongest shield from her forbidden desires. Mr. Knight had been married to a woman who was beautiful, virtuous, perfect. How could a skinny, nervous girl in glasses compare to Ms. June?

But now, the woman she'd idolized and envied for so many years was gone, and Lily couldn't stop thinking of it. The thought of Mr. Knight—*Vincent—*alone. The possibility that he might see her as something more than just a "niece."

Lily looked in the mirror, studying herself. She'd always pictured herself as the lanky, awkward teenager. But now, with dark thoughts swirling, she saw a woman emerging—curves beneath her blouse, a skirt that accented the subtle shape of her hips, the soft swell of her bottom.

She touched her lips—so red, so full. When had she become this woman?

Her eyes drifted to her desk—the sturdy corner, the inviting edge. Her fingers curled into her skirt's hem. The ache returned, wet and burning. *If I could just...*

She could never touch herself. That was a sin, forbidden by everything she'd been taught. But sometimes, sometimes she could *almost* fool herself.

She bent to gather her clothes, letting her skirt ride up, pressing soft silk and softer flesh against the edge of the desk. The sensation sparked electric, shameful heat—a friction that made her gasp.

She froze, clutching the desk, breath shaky. If she just pressed, just for a second, maybe—

*Not really touching. It doesn't count. Not if I keep my hands away. Not if I just...*

Her body trembled as she pulled away, heart racing, skin flushed.

She looked in the mirror again, forcing herself to focus on her attire, not the sinful flesh beneath.

*Can't give in... Can't be bad... Can't... Can't sin...*

Lily screwed her eyes closed and clenched every muscle she could. CLenched as if she could squeeze the filthy thoughts out of her mind. The depraved sin from her soul.

When she opened her eyes again, she was staring at an innocent girl again. A girl with everything as proper as could be. Lily nodded at herself.

"Perfect," she breathed. She looked clean. Virtuous. Pure. Just the kind of pupil Mr. Knight deserved.

*Like a niece...*

But deep inside, beneath the pressed blouse and trembling thighs, the sinful thoughts lingered—hungry, desperate, already rehearsing what she'd do if "niece" was no longer enough.

***

Sabrina White was wiping down her countertops when she saw her oldest daughter coming down the stairs, bible clutched tightly at her side.

Her eyes lingered on Lily's frame, noting how beautifully the outfit she'd bought fit her. A sweet, perfect girl in sweet, perfect clothes—her clothes, her image, her pride. Sabrina felt a surge of possessive delight and, somewhere beneath, a tremor of envy.

"You look lovely, dear," Sabrina said warmly. "Where are you off to this afternoon, looking so pretty?"

Lily hesitated, and Sabrina sensed a flicker of guilt across her face. "Oh, just next door to Mr. Knight's. Dad said he was able to start helping me with bible study again." She glanced quickly toward her father, who sat in the living room behind a raised newspaper. "Right, Dad?"

"That's right, honey," Matt confirmed, not looking up. "Vince said he was feeling up to it again."

Sabrina offered Lily a reassuring smile. "Well, I'm glad he's feeling up to it. Make sure you tell him we're praying for him."

"Of course, Mom," Lily said, quickly kissing her mother's cheek before rushing toward the door.

Sabrina watched her oldest leave, something unsettling stirring in her chest. Had Lily done something different with her makeup? Had she dressed up more carefully than usual? She caught a trace of perfume and wondered—*was Lily trying to impress Vincent?*

The thought nagged at her, the seed of worry entangling itself with something darker, something almost like hope. With a soft sigh, Sabrina put the cleaning cloth down and walked over to Matt. Only then did he lower his newspaper to look up at her.

"Are we sure Mr. Knight is ready to tutor her again?" she asked softly. "It's only been, what, a month or so since June left?"

Matt leaned back, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Oh, Sabrina. You know Vince. The man's made of stone. Solid as ever."

Sabrina pursed her lips, unable to entirely dismiss her unease. June's departure had shocked her deeply, seeming to come entirely out of nowhere. Just a week before, they'd been out getting their nails done together, chatting happily. June hadn't hinted at any dissatisfaction.

And now Vincent was just there, all alone...

"I know he's strong," Sabrina said with a hint of hesitation. "I suppose I just wonder if it's a good idea for Lily to be going over there alone right now."

Matt shifted his bulky frame in the chair, looking up at his wife with mild confusion. "What do you mean, honey? Vince has been tutoring Lily for years now. Heck, him giving her private lessons was a personal favor to me. Nobody knows scripture better."

Sabrina glanced toward the window, seeing her daughter already turning into Vincent's driveway. She exhaled slowly. "I know. He's done wonders with her."

Matt reached out a thick arm, gently rubbing Sabrina's smooth, narrow waist. "Then what's troubling you, hon?"

Sabrina hesitated, feeling guilty for even voicing her concern. "It's just that... before, June was always there, too. You know?" She avoided her husband's eyes. "I'm probably worrying too much."

Matt chuckled, that deep, comforting sound that had steadied her for so many years. "Lily's a good girl, Sabrina. Even if Vince were interested—and he's not—I wouldn't worry a bit. Lily would never fall for something inappropriate. You know our girl."

"I do," Sabrina said, running a hand thoughtfully through her long blonde hair. "And I know she's grown. I suppose June leaving has just left me feeling off-kilter."

Matt squeezed her arm affectionately. "It'll pass, honey. I know June was your friend, and her leaving shocked everyone. But you'll see—things are returning to normal."

Sabrina nodded softly. "You're probably right."

Matt grinned playfully, patting her thigh. "I always am. Now, how about you go fetch me a slice of that delicious apple pie you made?"

She laughed softly. "All right, Matt, but just a small piece. Remember what the doctor said about sweets."

Matt waved her off, already returning to his paper.

In the kitchen, Sabrina felt her tension ease slightly. Matt was probably right—just nerves, nothing more. Vincent had always been good for Lily, helping her stay firmly on the path of the Lord.

She took the apple pie from the refrigerator and picked up a small knife. Truthfully, she'd always been grateful to Vincent. He'd helped turn Lily from an awkward, fidgety girl into a poised, proper young lady. And wasn't that all she'd ever wanted for her daughter? A proper life.

*But not just proper. Disciplined. Submissive. Well-kept.* The thought slipped in unbidden, and Sabrina didn't try to banish it.

And, if she were honest, Sabrina couldn't deny that she'd often imagined her daughter with someone like Vincent—a strong, commanding man who could guide a household firmly but fairly. Someone who understood how to lead, control, and keep order.

A delicious shiver ran through Sabrina as she pictured Vincent standing before them. Not just her, but her daughters, Lily and Ashley, kneeling humbly at his feet. Their heads bowed in prayer, their hands folded in sweet, docile devotion. Offering praise to God—*and to him*, guided by Vincent's firm, gentle voice.

Her nipples tightened suddenly beneath her blouse, a shameful heat growing between her thighs as she imagined Vincent's hands—so large, so capable—resting atop her daughters' golden hair, guiding them into obedience and womanly virtue. And herself, kneeling beside them. The perfect household, ordered and harmonious. All of them ruled by a truly godly man.

A moan nearly escaped her lips. She bit it back, slicing into the pie with more force than she meant to. Her breathing was shallow, her mind foggy with guilt and want.

It was sinful. So sinful to think of Vincent that way, to dream of her daughters under his authority, her own body and soul surrendering alongside theirs. But the thought thrilled her, made her ache in places a wife was only supposed to ache for her husband. Places that hadn't truly burned since she herself was newly wed.

She blamed June. Blamed her for squandering such a perfect man. For leaving him wanting, leaving Sabrina yearning to see that need filled in ways she knew were sinful.

June had been a fool to abandon Vincent. Sabrina would never have wasted that opportunity. She cut again into the pie, the knife hitting the plate hard. She took a shaky breath, steadying her hands as she plated the pie and carried it back to her loyal, oblivious husband.

Placing the pie gently on the coffee table, she leaned down and kissed Matt tenderly on his forehead, her full, heavy breasts brushing him and making his newspaper flutter. "You know I love you, right, Matt?"

He chuckled, reaching out to pull her in closer for a proper kiss. "You've mentioned it a time or two," he teased. "And I'm the luckiest man alive for it."

Sabrina giggled softly, her heart racing despite her attempt to steady it. She knew she would have to pray fervently tonight, ask for forgiveness for the sinful fantasies she'd allowed into her mind.

Tonight she would make love to Matt passionately, completely, using every part of her body to show him her devotion. He deserved no less from her. She felt warmth rise again between her thighs at the thought. She knew exactly how to please him, her full-figured frame made for his pleasure, for bearing his children, for serving in all the ways God intended.

And tonight she would devote herself fully to him, body and soul. To him, and no one else.

No matter what.

***

A slight evening breeze rustled through the trees, and the sun was just beginning to set, casting the sky in a mosaic of purples, oranges, and pinks.

Vincent stood at the kitchen counter, gazing at the spectacle through the window. He remembered the long talks he'd had with June about moments like this—her voice animated as she called it the beauty of creation, God's grace hanging above them.

Now she was gone. What did that make this moment?

The doorbell broke the thought. Vincent took a breath and went to answer.

Lily White stood on the porch, nervously fiddling with her glasses, her book bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hey, Mr. Knight," she said with a shy smile. "Am I too early?"

"Not at all, Lily," he replied. "Come in."

He let her inside, watching her as she walked past. Over the years, Vincent had watched her grow into her mother's beauty—though she seemed unaware. Her gentle curves were impossible not to notice, modest clothing doing nothing to hide her body's natural grace.

"Your father said you were at the lake today," he said, leading her to the kitchen and gesturing for her to sit. "Did you enjoy the sun?"

She ran a hand over her blonde hair. "Yeah. We had a lot of fun. Me, Ashley, and the youth group."

"I can only imagine," Vincent said, pouring lemonade into glasses. "It's almost sinful, isn't it? To go from the beauty of the lake to a theology lesson." He rested a hand on her shoulder as he passed her the drink. "How will you atone?"

Lily flushed, her full lips pursed as she accepted the glass. "You're teasing me, Mr. Knight."

"A little."

She glanced away. "Dad said you went to the post office."

Vincent hesitated. "Yes," he said as he sat across from her. "Just sending off the last of June's things."

There was a sheen of wetness in Lily's eyes when she looked at him. "Everyone knows how awful it was, her leaving. Even the Elders are talking about it."

Vincent let out a breath. "I've heard. It's kind of people to say, but June had her reasons."

Lily didn't reply. After a moment's silence, she raised her glass, tilting her head back, the line of her neck exposed. Vincent found himself watching as a bead of lemonade clung to her bottom lip—her tongue darted out to catch it.

Only weeks ago, he'd have looked away. But that old impulse was simply... gone.

"So, Lily, I thought we'd look at the book of James tonight."

She nodded, retrieving her bible. "That sounds good, Mr. Knight. Where do we start?"

Vincent flipped open his bible. "Let's begin with James 1:14. Read it for me, Lily."

She leaned forward, her skirt rustling as she peered down at the page. "'But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire.'" She paused, eyes seeming to tremble at the words. "'Then desire, when it has conceived, gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death.'"

Vincent smiled, his gaze never leaving her. "Very good. What do you think it means?"

Lily blushed, lips wet. "It's... a powerful verse. Scary, almost. How honest it is about what really drives us."

"Desire can be frightening," Vincent said softly. "It's the shadow inside us all. But desire itself isn't sinful. It can lead to sin, but it's our actions that shape what we become."

She nodded, green eyes wide. "Right. We can't just blame desire for our sins."

He studied her—those parted lips, the attentive eyes. He felt strange, the words in his mouth weighted with new meaning.

"We can't," he agreed. "Nor should we pretend we can banish desire completely. James says it's a part of us. To reject it is to reject our own nature—something ordained to us by God."

Lily's attention never wavered. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering a beat too long. "Sometimes it's hard to know what's right when something feels so... compelling."

Vincent smiled—a faint, dark thing. "That's the struggle. Head versus heart. Or sometimes... other parts. Sometimes what feels like sin is just the deepest truth in us, demanding to be seen."

Would he have said this before? He wasn't sure. But he couldn't deny the hunger that stirred in him now.

Lily bit her lip. "You make it sound like it's okay to give in."

Vincent laced his fingers, voice low. "Depends what you mean by giving in. Sometimes accepting a truth isn't surrender—it's transformation. Temptation is God's way of testing us. But perhaps the test isn't always resistance. Sometimes... it's about embracing what we're meant for, so it loses its power over us."

Lily's breath caught. Her tongue flicked over her lips, her chest rising and falling as she stared at her bible, hands trembling just slightly in her lap.

"I never thought of it like that. It's... confusing, Mr. Knight."

He reached out, covering her hand with his. Her skin was soft, impossibly delicate. "The path to grace is never easy. But you don't have to walk it alone."

Lily looked up, cheeks flushed. "That's true. I have you."

"You do, Lily. You do."

She hesitated, voice barely above a whisper. "And... you have me, Mr. Knight."

He said nothing for a long moment, his thumb tracing the veins on her hand. "Do I?" The words came out heavy, rough. "Do I... *have* you, Lily?"

Her eyes shone. "Yes," she whispered. "You do. However you need me, Mr. Knight. I... I want that."

Something moved inside Vincent, a shadow he'd spent years suppressing. It stirred now, hungry and electric, slithering out through every crack June had left in him. All for this lovely, trembling young woman.

And in the flicker of Lily's gaze, Vincent saw the reflection of a new, darker figure—one he'd once tried to forget, and now could no longer deny.

***

The rest of the bible study passed in a blur—his words and gestures automatic, his mind spinning with strange new currents. He noticed how Lily blushed more easily, how her eyes darted away from his gaze, only to sneak back, hungry.

But mostly, Vincent was consumed by the unfamiliar ache within himself.

When their time ended, his hand moved almost of its own accord to the small of her back, guiding her toward the door. She turned to face him, her eyes bright and alive.

"I really learned a lot today, Mr. Knight," she said softly. "You... you make it all sound so natural. So... instinctual."

Vincent smiled, voice warm and low. "Whatever wisdom you found was always in you, Lily. I just pointed the way."

"I know," she breathed. "But you... you understand in a way no one else does. About what's happening. The things I feel... the things they—"

She broke off, flustered. For a long moment, she lingered in the doorway, eyes drifting to his lips. He let her look, savoring her uncertainty.

Then, gently, he cupped her cheek with his palm. Her lips parted, trembling under his touch.

"If you find something deep inside yourself, Lily, maybe it's there for a reason. Maybe it's meant to help you learn. To help you understand."

Her breath came quick and shallow, chest rising and falling. He could see it in her eyes now—his words had struck home.

He'd meant them to. He *chose* them to nudge her closer, to guide her further down the path she barely knew she was on.

A flicker of regret whispered through him—an impulse tied to the image of June. Of her influence. But that part of him was already fading, shriveled by her absence.

What remained was curiosity, dark and unrepentant.

"Get yourself home, Lily," he said quietly. "Give your parents my best."

She nodded, face flushed anew. "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Knight."

"You're most welcome, Lily. Good night."

"Good night."

Vincent watched Lily retreat down his front path, lingering at the door until she disappeared into her house. He stood there, the strange stirring within him growing sharper by the second.

For seven years, he had built a life in Eden Falls. A life without the dark, deviant desires he'd once given himself to—suppressing that old self for June. It had been an effort, yes. But he'd managed it. For her.

Now, as he closed the door, Vincent felt those feelings simmering again, rising through every careful boundary he'd laid down.

He tidied the kitchen, stacking the bibles and notes with mechanical precision, every mundane gesture only stoking the restless energy inside him. Soon, he found himself drawn to his office—the room where, for so long, he'd shaped lessons for church and college, sanctifying his intellect in service to the light.

But now the desk held only a single letter. It had lain there for days, untouched, its presence a weight he had done his best to ignore.

Tonight, he couldn't resist. Not after Lily.

He sat down, hands trembling as he opened the envelope again. The letter's script was neat, almost delicate.

*Dear Vincent,*

*As I write this, my heart is full of gratitude, sorrow, and a sense of divine purpose. Please believe I haven't come to this decision lightly.*

*When we first met, I was drawn to your magnetism—the intensity you carried. Through God's guidance, I believed I could bring you out of darkness and into His light. Your journey from your fraught past to the service of our church was a testament to His grace. Your passion, your drive, the wisdom you offered—these were gifts, even if your soul was once soiled.*

*Yet, I have never been able to escape the sense that a part of you remained untouched by God's cleansing. That flicker of your former self shone through—in your passion, in the carnal vigor you brought to our bed. And while I cannot deny the power and skill you showed me, it has left me uneasy, compromised.*

*I must admit, I can no longer believe the good in you has overcome the evil. Your sensuality—so eager, so unrelenting, and ultimately barren—has become an ever-growing distraction, knowing our union would never bear children.*

*I've spoken to the elders about our infertility, but not your past. That secret is between you, me, and God. You remain a light for others, even if your light no longer reaches me.*

*So I confess, with a heavy but honest heart: I am leaving you, Vincent. In these last months, God has brought another man into my life—someone who fulfills my yearning for a family. Your physical power threatens to pull me from the righteous path, and I must follow His calling elsewhere.*

*You were my bridge. I was meant to save you, and now God has shown me the next bridge to cross—one you cannot follow.*

*May God's peace be with you always,*

*June*

He set the letter down, a cold numbness moving through him. There were truths here he'd never heard from June's lips—truths she'd kept hidden behind warmth, behind faith, behind the sharp edge of her virtue.

He thought back to those first years: the debates, the late-night talks, her fire and certainty, how he'd given himself over to her cause and her faith. He'd become her project, her proof of God's power—a lost soul, tamed.

But now, reading her words, he saw it clearly. She'd never really wanted him. She'd wanted his redemption.

A part of him expected rage. Grief. Something loud. Instead, he felt only a widening silence, the rubble of his old self shifting in the dark.

He understood at last: June had seen him as a badge—a trophy of holiness, a soul rescued and displayed. And now, her hands were clean.

He breathed in, slow and deep. Then, without thinking, he crumpled the letter in his fist.

And as the paper twisted, a vision of Lily flickered in his mind: Lily blushing, Lily's green eyes shining with forbidden hope, Lily's soft mouth trembling at his touch.

A hunger he had sworn to bury was already clawing back to the surface, growing stronger with every lie June had written.

He tossed the letter in the trash, his heart beating slow and deep. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, moving on instinct, and entered his closet. Pushing aside a row of pressed dress shirts, Vincent pulled out a hidden box. He set it on the bed, lifted the lid, and stared down at its contents: a stack of DVDs, each one marked with a name or date—ghosts from another life.

Most names he barely remembered. A few stood out—old friends, old lovers, old students. His only memento from his former world. Everything else had been cast away—names, contacts, accounts. Only this little box remained, a private reliquary of darkness.

He picked up a disc, thumbed over two names. He smiled despite himself.

They were the last he'd trained before meeting June—best friends, transformed together. He'd taught them so much more than faith.

A dark, familiar thrill pulsed through Vincent as he placed the disc in the player and sat before the bedroom TV. He pressed play. The screen filled with the faces of Jess and Monica—one redhead, one raven-haired—naked, bound in silken rope, kneeling with mouths gagged and eyes sparkling with adoration.

They stared into the camera—at him—waiting, eager for his commands.

Vincent's body warmed as the image zoomed in, his stomach knotting with old hunger. The video changed: himself in shadow, moving over them, teaching them to please, to serve, to crave and obey. Training them to perfect pleasure—his, and each other's. Making them beg to be used. To be made into toys. *His* toys.

They loved him for it. Praised him. Begged for it again and again.

The video rolled on: the girls enacting every depravity for him, and finally, on him. His hands and mouth wringing screams from their bodies, his cock driving them into rapture.

By the end, Jess and Monica knelt side by side before him, skin gleaming with sweat, bodies bare and open. His fingers stroked their cheeks, his words calm and cold.

"What is your purpose?" he asked.

"To serve," they answered as one. "To obey. To be a vessel for our Master to use."

"Good," Vincent whispered into the empty room.

He watched himself—watched his toys—remembered how he'd given up all that power, all that control, for the love of a woman and the promise of salvation.

But he hadn't been saved. He'd been *caged*—molded into June's perfect, obedient husband, a project, a prize for her pious community.

Now, something inside him shifted. Anger. Anger at June for her manipulations, at himself for allowing them. Seven years spent living a lie, all for nothing.

If she thought him evil, if the world saw him only as a mask of virtue, he would show them just how deep that evil ran.

Vincent stood, pulse pounding, cock straining against his pants. The dark hunger inside him burned hotter, tinged now with something harder, more sinister.

He looked in the mirror and smiled—a new, dangerous smile.

June had left him behind in Eden Falls as a living monument to her victory, her piety.

But Vincent had other ideas. He shut off the video, slid the DVD back into its hiding place, and stared at his reflection.

The community saw him as a teacher, a guide, a beacon of wisdom.

He had no intention of dissuading them.

Because he *was* a teacher.

And he had many, many things to teach.