No Safe Haven, Not Even in the Presence of God

The darkness outside seemed to seep into the temple, casting deep shadows on the walls. Beatrice couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that some unseen force was lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the confessional box, her mind racing with thoughts of damnation and prejudice. 

She never considered a wet dream as a sin, although at first, she felt a bit regrettable and dirty. It was only a dream, the same dream of a man dreaming of a woman he yearns for and lusts for. How could that be a sin? 

However, the mere thought of that man being an actual devil sent shivers down her spine. 'What if he had sinister plans to whisk me away from this kingdom to their dark realm? What horrors awaited me? Would he subject me to unimaginable torture and torment?' her thought running wild.

The very idea was enough to make her stomach turn, and her mind raced with a growing sense of dread.

What if she never saw her family again? The uncertainty and fear were almost too much to bear. As the dream was different from reality after all.

She took a deep breath and entered the confessional. The heavy door creaked ominously as it closed behind her. The air inside was stale, the scent of old wood and incense permeating every corner.

She knelt down, her head bowed in reverence, and began to speak.

"Bless me, Esteemed Priest, for I have sinned," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. "I had a dream, a sinful dream, and I fear that I have angered the Lord."

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was the soft patter of rain on the roof. Beatrice held her breath, waiting for the priest's response, her heart hammering in her chest.

Finally, there was a rustling sound from the other side of the confessional, and the priest's voice spoke low and grave.

"Tell me, my child," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries of confessional. "Tell me your sin, so that you may be absolved."

Beatrice took a deep breath and began to speak. Her voice was shaking with fear and uncertainty. The priest listened in silence, his breathing slow and measured, as she recounted the details of her dream.

When she was finished, there was a long pause. The only sound was the soft whisper of the rain outside. Beatrice felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for the priest's judgment, waiting to be condemned to eternal damnation.

But when the priest spoke again, his voice was gentle and kind. "My child," he said, "you have committed no sin. Dreams are not under our control, and the Devil has no power over our unconscious minds. Do not fear, for you are loved by the Lord, and His grace is infinite. Be at peace, and know that you are forgiven."

Beatrice let out a deep breath, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. But the priest's words echoed in the confessional over and over again, they seemed to take on a deeper, more sinister tone.

She reached for the door to escape, but it refused to budge. Panic rose within her chest, and she pounded on the wood, begging to be let out. But then she heard something on the other side.

She screams in panic, "Help me! Please open the door!'

A chilling laugh, dark and hysterical, echoed in the room, sending shivers down Beatrice's spine.

"Mocking God before, and now you ask for His forgiveness?" the voice taunted her. "There is no salvation for you, Beatrice. Not from God." The words were venomous, causing her heart to race with fear and anxiety.

Suddenly the body of the stunning man appeared before her. She could feel his gaze on her, stripping her naked with his piercing red eyes.

His messy jet-black hair was as dark as the abyss, and his sexy lips curled into a smirk that sent a chill down her spine. The thick, dark brows that framed his face only added to his devilish allure.

He looks so dreamy if he was not the Devil. 

As he stepped closer to her, Beatrice tried to escape, but his cold hand held her tightly. She was trapped in the narrow confessional box, feeling suffocated by the intensity of his presence. The scent of cigars and red wine intoxicated her, making her feel dizzy.

His eyes never left hers as he brought her hand to his lips. His touch was electrifying, sending shivers down her spine. She knew she should run. He was the Devil from the story she read once.

The Devil would mislead women and make them drown in lust and sin. However, The Devil before her was dangerous, yet so tempting. She couldn't help but crave more of the Devil's touch.

Her body pressed against his, and Beatrice could feel the heat of his body. He was a well-built man, tall and muscular, in a priest's white robe that hugged his body perfectly. She couldn't help but admire his physique, feeling her desire grow stronger.

As he leaned in to kiss her neck, Beatrice's mind was clouded with conflicting emotions. She knew it was wrong, but his touch was too pleasant to resist. Her body responded to his touch, and she could feel her resolve slip away.

"The only salvation that will come is from me." As he spoke, his voice resonated with a sinister promise that sent shivers down Beatrice's spine.

The power behind his words was tangible, and it made every inch of her body tense with anticipation. He stepped back, his eyes fixed on her with an intense gaze, and his lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Now kneel down before me," he demanded, his voice dripping with malice. "Maybe I will let you go." The smug look on his face made it clear that he relished the control he had over her.

Beatrice's heart raced with fear. She knew that if she gave in to his demands, she might be able to escape this suffocating terror of the Devil.

But the thought of kneeling before the Devil and sacrificing her pride was almost too much to bear. From a young age, she had been taught that humans, especially nobles, were superior beings. 

In the Kingdom of Avaloria, it was believed that the royal family was God's chosen descendants. The first King of Avaloria was said to have been a child of God, with power and golden eyes that reflected divinity.

As someone from a family close to the royals, Beatrice felt that her ego was being crushed under the weight of the Devil's dominance.

Despite her inner turmoil, the Devil's presence was overwhelming, and she found herself trembling in his presence. With all her might, she knelt before him, her hands clasped together in a prayer gesture.

As Beatrice knelt before the Devil, she felt a mix of emotions swirling inside of her, fear, anger, and humiliation. The Devil's gaze bore down on her like a weight, making her feel exposed and vulnerable.

He smirked down at her, his eyes roaming over her body with a look of smoldering hunger. "That's it, my dear. Show me your submission," he said, his voice dripping with honeyed seduction. 

Beatrice's heart raced as he leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. "You know you want this, don't you? You want to feel my touch?" he whispered, sending shivers down her spine.

Beatrice fought against the feelings that threatened to consume her, but the Devil's presence was too intoxicating, too overwhelming.

His hand reached out to caress her cheek, his thumb brushed her lips, and with a demanding tone, he growled, "Now, suck it."

A fiery passion ignited inside of her, and Beatrice surrendered herself to the Devil, opening her mouth to suck his thumb, craving more of him.

Remembering every night she spent with him. When he ravished and devoured her body with intense desire. When she remembered every touch of his hands made her body tremble, his move made her fall into heaven.

He laughed at her, mocking her desire for salvation. "Good girl," he sneered, looking at her with a lustful gaze. "Did you really think I would let you go so easily?"

Beatrice's heart sank as she realized what she had done, averting her gaze from the Devil's piercing eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, and she shook off his cold hand, feeling humiliated and used. But the Devil laughed, delighting in her misery.

Leaning down to her, he forced her to meet his gaze, his red eyes burning with desire. "Don't cry, princess," he purred.

"You should know better than to trust the word of the devil." His gaze roamed over her body, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And now, I want you even more. It's your fault for tempting me."