Eve Reborn

James Abraham Carter

Warning: Explicit Sexual Content

In the aftermath of the devastating plague, far worse than Covid, the world lay in ruins. The Purple Death, as the disease was called, due to the color of the blotches it caused, had slain without pity - as merciless as the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Billions of lives had been extinguished like candles snuffed out by an invisible hand. Amidst the desolation, a small boat battled the rising swells, the few survivors in it clinging to fragile hope. Jack Eddington, a muscular young man, stood at the helm, his face a map of hardships endured and of horrors seen that no man should ever have to look upon.

Jack’s expression was grim with memories. The plague, originating in Africa, had started a little over a year ago. It had spread across the world - a creeping death that the best measures of quarantine had failed to halt. At the time of the outbreak, he had been living in Placid Bay, a small seaside community. But even here, in this out of the-way place, they had not been safe. Refugees from the cities, seeking to escape places that had become vast graveyards, had brought the terrible epidemic with them. Law and order had broken down. The highly infectious and devastating contagion, a retrovirus for which no vaccine or effective antiviral could be developed in sufficient time, had destroyed America.

His parents and younger brother had succumbed to the Purple Death. He remembered his father’s final gasping words over the iPhone as he lay dying: “Jack, take the yacht. Save yourself and as many healthy survivors as you can. Find an uninhabited Pacific island. Hopefully, its isolation will keep you safe.”

A crack of thunder brought Jack’s mind to the present. He looked at the horizon, gauging the advance of the tempest. Dark storm clouds crackling with lightning were rolling ominously toward them, closing distance with alarming speed. By his side, Sister Maria, a devout African American nun, clung to the boat's rail, heaving violently into the waves, refusing to go inside, unlike the five other passengers huddled below deck, where he had ordered them to take shelter.

The storm advanced. It enveloped them with all its untamed fury. Their vessel, a sturdy yacht, now creaked and groaned under the elements' relentless assault. The skies grew even darker, and the winds howled like a chorus of the damned as the boat careened toward a catastrophic end. The sea heaved like a writhing leviathan. Lightning cracked the sky with jagged streaks. Jack's face paled. A huge wave rose above the ship like a giant, watery hand. He dashed to the rail. His strong arms encircled Sister Maria, pulling her close as the massive wall of water crashed down, engulfing them.

Reality descended into swirling chaos as they tumbled head over heels in the terrifying maelstrom of the roiling sea. Jack held fast to Sister Maria, fighting to retain his grip and hold his breath against the choking ocean threatening to invade his lungs. His powerful legs kicked as he battled toward the surface. He burst through the seething brine and heaved air into his starving lungs.

The storm raged furiously for another hour. When the waters calmed, only two figures remained on the empty ocean, battered but alive.

Sister Maria clung to Jack, her black habit sodden and sticking to her petite frame, her full breasts pressed against his chest with unintended eroticism. "Thank you, Lord, for sparing us," she murmured, her voice shaking as she gazed at the ray of sunlight slanting through the dissipating clouds.

Jack did his best to ignore what the press of her shapely figure was doing to him. His reply was an irreverent grunt of skepticism as he scanned the horizon, his squinting eyes straining to penetrate the hazy distance. There was no sign of the yacht. The sea had swallowed it completely. "We’re lucky that wave threw us clear,” he muttered. “Otherwise, we’d have been sucked under with the rest of our companions. What a tragedy,” he concluded, his voice heavy with emotion.

As they drifted, Jack spotted a distant island, its lush green canopy a beacon of safety amidst the endless blue expanse. With renewed purpose, he drew the nun’s attention to it and grinned. "We're going to make it, Sister Maria. That island, we can swim to it."

“God provides,” Sister Maria stated with conviction. Jack kept his doubts to himself.

As they swam, Jack assisting the nun; an ominous shape loomed beneath the surface, its sleek form glinting in the sunlight. A shark, its jaws wide open, lunged at them with deadly and ravenous intent. Sister Maria screamed. Jack reacted swiftly. Drawing his pocketknife, he plunged beneath the waves to confront the monster.

He thrust the blade, stabbing the shark’s sensitive snout. The creature writhed. He caught its dorsal fin and plunged his knife again and again into the monster’s writhing body. They sank into the depths, the shark's powerful thrashes propelling them downward. Jack's lungs began to burn, but he refused to relinquish his grip on the beast until he was certain he had driven it away. The wounded shark retreated, and with a last burst of strength, he kicked upward, breaking the surface and clasping the floundering nun.

“I’ve got you,” he gasped as he supported her.

The merciful current carried them toward the island’s shore, and after what seemed like an age, the pair found themselves standing waist-deep in the surf, the waves slapping their backs and sending them stumbling toward the beach. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon them, but their will to survive propelled them forward.

Weary and battered, Jack and Sister Maria finally reached dry land, their exhausted bodies wracked by the ordeal they had endured. As they collapsed onto the warm, sandy beach, Jack couldn't help but marvel at the strangeness of their situation - two survivors of the apocalypse, an atheistic sailor and a pious nun, stranded on a tropical paradise with nothing but each other for company.

But the challenges they faced were far from over. Jack, ever the pragmatist, set about ensuring their survival, using his pocket knife to craft a rudimentary fishing spear and construct a simple lean-to shelter from the island's abundant foliage, which also provided a cornucopia of tropical fruits. Sister Maria, meanwhile, struggled to adapt to their new existence, her rigid moral code clashing with the harsh realities of their primitive circumstances.

"Jack, I...I can't sleep in the small lean-to with you," she stammered as she stared at the shelter he had built. "It wouldn’t be decent. I need a place to myself for privacy."

Jack sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Civilization has ended, Sister Maria. There's no one left to judge us. Billions are dead, and if God existed and cared about humanity, He wouldn't have let this happen. Or if God does exist, then it isn’t the God you’ve been taught to believe in."

The nun's eyes flashed with righteous anger. "This is God's punishment on a godless world, Jack. We've been given a chance to repent and start afresh."

“God’s punishment?” he said, incredulous. “Millions of innocent children have died horribly from the Purple Death. Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

She stood there, uncomfortably silent, unable to respond to the disturbing implications.

Jack let it go. It would be pointless to try to reason with her. He took a deep calming breath and grudgingly set about constructing a second shelter for Sister Maria, acutely aware of the futility of her moralizing given everything that had happened.

Several weeks had passed. It was early morning, and Jack was gathering fallen branches to use as firewood to cook the fish he planned to spear when Sister Maria came running excitedly to him.

“A boat,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “A boat is approaching the island.”

Jack dropped the wood and grabbed his fishing spear. He followed her to the beach, and looked out to sea. Sure enough, a sailing vessel was approaching. It anchored in the lagoon, and shortly a dinghy was let down by a single man who began rowing it ashore.

Jack turned to the nun. “We’re in the fringes of the jungle. He hasn’t seen us yet. Hide yourself while I speak to him. If it’s safe, I’ll call, and you can join us.”

“But,” she began in protest.

“Civilization has ended,” he cut in. “The world has become a lawless place; I’m being prudent.”

Maria complied, but with obvious annoyance. Jack stepped from concealment and warily approached the stranger as he dragged the dinghy onto the beach.

“Hello,” he called. “Name’s Jack. It’s good to see another human being.”

The man spun around at the sound of his voice, and the wild look in his eyes made Jack pause with further caution. The stranger was badly unkempt, with long hair and a scraggly beard, and his bony body clearly showed the signs of harsh privation.

“Who are you?” He hoarsely snarled in an unfriendly reply, his accent hinting at his French origins.

“A survivor, like you,” answered Jack carefully. “I’m an American. Are you from France? What is the situation like on the continent? We lost contact with Europe months ago.”

The stranger looked beyond Jack, scanning the jungle with eyes narrowed by paranoia and madness.

“Death everywhere,” he muttered darkly, his facial muscles twitching. “Cities full of corpses. I saw your fire last night.” Then his crazed gaze focused on Jack. “Food,” he cried as he drew the Modèle 1935A automatic that had been hidden in his trouser pocket. “Must have meat.”

Jack hurled his spear and leaped aside. The gunshot cracked the humid air, and the speeding bullet grazed his ear. The madman had missed, but Jack hadn’t. The streaking spear thudded into the Frenchman’s neck. Blood spurted, and the fellow collapsed, jerking feebly as he bled out on the sand.

Sister Maria raced from the jungle, a look of horror on her face. Jack grabbed her as she sped toward the stricken man and dragged her back.

“Keep away,” he warned. “He could be infected with the plague.”

“But he is dying,” she protested hotly.

“If you want to pray for him, then do so from a distance,” replied Jack harshly. “I’m not taking any chances. We’ll have to leave the body here, unburied, and move our camp further up the beach.”

**********

After waiting five days, for the deadly virus could not survive outside the body for long, Jack piled brushwood on the Frenchman’s rotting corpse and cremated it. The grim task complete, he then rowed to the dead man’s boat and salvaged what he could from it. He built more substantial shelters - a hut for himself and another for Maria - using an axe and other tools taken from the vessel. Their existence became less primitive, but as the weeks turned into months, the tension between them mounted, a constant conflicting undercurrent of unspoken desire on Jack’s part and religious conviction on hers.

Toward the end of their second month on the island, Jack had returned from foraging earlier than expected and had caught Sister Maria bathing. She was sitting on a rock in an inlet of the sea. He looked on from concealment, unable to turn away. She was completely nude. Her body was slim, but her breasts were disproportionately large. To some, she might have appeared top heavy. But to Jack, she was perfect in face and figure. With an effort, he managed to tear his gaze from the enticing sight, and with a raging libido moved back into the jungle, the constraints of civilization still upon him at the moment.

The sight of Maria’s naked body added fuel to the flames of desire, which were already burning hotly. It was this additional stimulus that finally pushed Jack over the edge, his growing sexual frustration reaching a boiling point. That evening, as they sat outside on opposite sides of the fire watching the sunset, he turned to Sister Maria, unable to remain silent any longer, and spoke his mind with shocking frankness.

"We might be the last people on Earth,” he said as he moved next to her, his demeanor earnest. “We're both young and healthy. Maria, I confess I’m attracted to you. Please don’t think this is just about desire. I think we should start a family, to try and save humanity from extinction," he concluded, almost pleadingly.

Sister Maria's response was swift and vicious, her hand connecting with Jack's cheek in a stinging slap. "You're wicked, Jack Eddington! I'm a nun, married to God and sworn to celibacy. We can never be together in such a sinful way!"

Jack hadn’t expected such a violent reaction. He sat in stunned silence as the nun leapt to her feet and stormed off, her back stiff with outrage. Her words, laced with righteous, unsympathetic indignation, replayed in his mind. The slap and the insult were the final straw for Jack. He had tolerated her uncomprimising attitude for as long as he could, and now, faced with the bleak prospect of a solitary, loveless existence, the kind that Maria was enduring, he knew he had to take drastic action if the two of them were to have any chance of a happy life.

Sister Maria moralized too much and too often, and from her over the top reaction, Jack suspected that beneath her prim and proper exterior she was struggling with a cauldron of suppressed and simmering passions. That night, under the starry sky, he ruminated on a radical remedy as she slept. He knew his plan would be condemned by society as criminal. But what was morality - was it absolute or relative? Ideas of right and worng differed from age to age and culture to culture. Morality wasn’t involute like the laws of nature. It was the consensus of the majority of a particular society at certain point in time, and the Purple Death had ended society.

His resolve hardened and he set to work in the moonlight.

Whittling four sturdy stakes from branches he had cut with the axe, he hammered them into the sand, and then, gathering long, tough grasses, he wove them into strong ropes. In the morning, with a determined look on his face, Jack went in search of Sister Maria. He found her on her knees in dawn prayer, asking God to help her resist wicked temptation and evil doubt.

Without a word, he seized Maria, sweeping her into his strong arms . He carried her kicking and screaming to the stakes.

“What are you doing?” She cried in growing fear as she beat her fists against his muscular chest in ineffectual resistance. “Have you gone mad?”

Ignoring her, he pressed her into the sand with his muscular body. Maria could feel his hardness as she struggled wildly, his masculine smell as he bound her wrists and ankles to the stakes. With a sharp flick of his pocketknife, he cut away her clothing, revealing her intimate beauty, leaving her naked and exposed. Jack's eyes roamed her body, taking in her flawless dark brown skin, full breasts, and feminine curves, and the black curly triangle between her widely spread thighs.

Sister Maria writhed and prayed, but Jack was undeterred. With his captive secured, he shed his clothing and loomed over the helpless nun. Her eyes, wide with fear and dismay, locked onto the impressive length his engorged manhood.

“Oh God,” she gasped. “Please Jack,” she begged. “Don’t do this. I’m a nun. You will burn in Hell for your wickedness and depravity. Repent of your evil atheism, the cause of your degeneracy.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Evil atheism. Really? Is the Church any better? What about the evils of the Inquisition, or more recently its coverup of clerical pedophilia. At least I’m no hypocrite. I don’t pretend to be the fountainhead of morality. You’re a woman, Maria, and a damned attractive one. But your problem is that you are afraid of pleasure. I’m going to show you that there is nothing to fear.”

“By raping me?” she cried. “That’s the most pathetic rationalization I’ve ever heard.”

Jack knelt beside Maria. For him the time for debate was over. He began lightly, tracing a finger along her parted, trembling lips, down her neck and over her collarbone, down her quivering belly to the thatch of dark hair between her thighs. His touch was gentle - not the brutal violation she anticipated.

But even so she fought against the pleasure she was experiencing. Sister Maria writhed, her prayers degenerating into moans as Jack expertly explored her body with his hands and lips. She was a virgin in every sense - no man had touched her, nor had she touched herself for fear of the sin of masturbation. He cupped and squeezed her generous breasts, lavishing attention on her stiffening nipples. She gasped, her back arching, as Jack's tongue swirled around the sensitive areola.

Slowly, his fingers delved into the slick lips of her prominent slit, discovering her dripping arousal. Jack groaned, his own need escalating, as he spread her open and began to caress her engorged clit with his tongue. Sister Maria trembled and sobbed, her body tensing as Jack gently eased his wet fingers deep into her pussy and anus, stimulating her from within as he continued to suck and lick her.

She tried to focus on God, on prayer, but the pleasure Jack was giving her was like nothing she’d ever felt before and concentration on anything else was utterly impossible. Maria felt the tension mounting with in her loins, swelling to a crescendo in a symphony of desire as she strained against her bonds. The nun's climax ripped through her, a keening wail escaping her lips as her entire being convulsed in pleasure. Jack watched, entranced, as she bucked and spasmed, her large breasts heaving. When her tremors subsided, he positioned himself between her thighs, guiding his thick shaft into her wet and welcoming slit.

He thrust slowly at first, easing his length into her. His lips and tongue stiffened her turgid nipples as he savored the slick glide of her inner walls around him. Sister Maria tensed, but pain quickly gave way to pleasure and as her initial resistance faded, Jack increased his pace, driving into her with deep, powerful strokes. Her head rolled from side to side, her gasping moans filled the air, a sonata of ecstasy, as the nun fully surrendered to the primal desire he had awoken within her.

Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, until Jack felt the irresistible onset of his own climax. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, pumping his seed deep inside her as she climaxed once more, her slender body powerfully wracked with the force of her screaming orgasm.

As the aftershocks dwindled, Jack collapsed onto the sand beside Maria, his chest heaving. She lay limp and breathless, a glistening sheen of sweat coating her dark skin, his seed dribbling from her distended slit. She lay silent for a while, coherent though slowly creeping in. She was no longer a virgin. Was she even a nun anymore? The experience had awoken long suppressed desires and had changed her in a fundamental way. She turned her head, her eyes finding his in the morning light.

"I... I've been foolish," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "My upbringing… The emphasis on the sinfulness of sex. I became a nun as a form of escape, trying to stifle my natural urges by smothering them beneath religious dogma. But after experiencing the intense pleasure you gave me…” She blushed, a subtle smile curving her lips. "I realize that for far too long I have lived a lie, trying to pretend I’m someone that I’m really not. I can now admit to myself those submissive fantasies hitherto denied - of being taken in the strong arms of a dominant man."

Jack's own smile was slow and confident. "I knew it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips and then freeing her of her bonds. "You just needed to let go, to acknowledge your desires. You are Eve reborn, and now we can start a new life together, free from religious dogma and societal constraints."

Maria nodded, a look of pure joy and contentment washing over her as she embraced Jack. "Yes," she whispered. "Our lives, our future, are ours to create. And I want to spend it with you, Jack."

In that shared moment of understanding, they both knew that although their path ahead would undoubtedly be challenging, they would face life’s vicissitudes together without any hindering barriers between them. The world may have ended, but for Jack and Maria, a new beginning had just begun.

The End