Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1)

by Coco Mingolelli

  It had started when a Sanderson College girl had accidentally tripped Lisa Harper, who grabbed the offender by the hair. Felicity, sensing the time was right, had dived into the fracas. Seeing their fellow student getting hopped on by two St. Augusta's girls, Sanderson College had run to her aid.

  Close enough now to see the potential for serious injury, Elisabeth jumped the barrier while instructing some nearby students to help her.

  "GET THE HOSE!" Sister Eileen roared over the thud of hockey sticks hitting flesh and bone, and screams that wouldn't have sounded out of place in a massacre.

  Several nuns were now involved in the mass brawl between the teams. Pulling warring girls off each other, Sister Eileen and Elisabeth tried in vain to break up the rest.

  Dawn had lost her hockey stick in the madness, and now backed away out of the fight.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity pulled free of the crowd, and turned towards her.

  As Mallory witnessed Felicity's vicious stare while standing just outside the barrier, she moved to warn Dawn, but even her loud calls couldn't be heard over the deafening noise. Short of hopping the barrier herself, all she could do was watch as Dawn stood her ground.

  Felicity was gaining on Dawn, hands balled into fists.

  Mallory swore to whatever God there was: if any harm came to Dawn, she'd beat the McGovern girl to death in her sleep. Nobody would miss the little shit. As the narrow distance closed between them, she held her breath and winced in anticipation. She couldn't bear to look, but couldn't turn away.

  Felicity had finally reached Dawn, kicking at the shorter girl's midriff with the full intent to break some ribs.

  Jumping back and just out of reach, Dawn feigned and leapt forward to grab her attacker by the collar of her polo, and smacked Felicity's face first into the ground.

  They rolled around on the grass, throwing slaps, curses and punches. Sister Eileen ran over, and attempted to tug the girls apart.

  Felicity was bleeding profusely from her nose, but Dawn was tiring. Blood rushed through Mallory's own ears as she watched, dimming clear noise down to a sort of murmuring mass of humanity.

  “Fight, Dawn,” she whispered into the din. “Don't give up.”

  "Mallory Moore, what have you done? A week and a half in your care and she's turned into a quivering, snarling, white-hot ball of teenage terror!" Sister Eileen screamed from the field. "Get in here and help me!"

  As Mallory swung her legs over the barrier, one last slap from Dawn had done the deed. Felicity McGovern lay unconscious on the ground with a bloody face as the first wave of water from the industrial school hose hit the pitch, sending girls screaming in different directions.

  "That's enough now, Miss Rose!" Mallory growled for the show of it, taking Dawn's arm to haul her off Felicity. She very well couldn't appear proud of the behaviour in front of the crowds.

  Shrugging off Mallory's touch and retrieving her hockey stick from nearby, Dawn stalked off the pitch with an infuriated screech.

  “Fook you too, Miss Moore!”

  _____________________________________

  "I can't believe you actually beat Felicity McGovern into unconsciousness," Mallory sighed. Her amused smirk belied any disappointment. "Today, plus the incident in the woods that Miss Sørensen was willing to overlook…" she shook her head slowly at Dawn, "you'll be lucky if you don't get some sort of disciplinary action. And I mean... fook me? Really?"

  Dawn sat on the couch, still shaky with adrenaline even an hour and a half of screaming nuns and a drive in the Jag later. Mallory had insisted that she would be punished accordingly at home, but some of the Sisters still had their knickers in a twist.

  "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Haven't you ever just…" her balled-up fists rose quickly into the air, and she snarled. "I needed to. She keeps running her damned mouth about us."

  Mallory raised an eyebrow and reclined against the living room window-seat, knees up. Her arms rested across those knees, and her fingers tapped in annoyance. Pursing her crimson lips, she turned her gleaming eyes back to the Dawn, who had the presence of mind to squirm under her formidable scrutiny.

  "I used to be a scrapper, Dawn. It gets you nowhere but laid up in bed with ice packs on your face, wondering why you ever fought back. I'm glad you did this once, mind you. I wanted you to. But..."

  "Used to be?" Dawn retorted smartly. "You still pack a pretty good swing, if the other night was any clue." Sinking deeper into the couch in an attempt to escape the inquiry, she pulled the cable knit throw from the side and covered herself. It didn't make the sensation of Mallory's intense stare go away, but it was a comfort.

  "Why did you fight when you were younger?" she mumbled, feeling a bit childish and wanting to be on the same level with her lover in some way.

  With a long exhalation, Mallory stood up from the window-seat, and walked over to sit beside Dawn. "I'm not being entirely truthful when I say there's no reason to fight back," she began, linking her long, thin fingers with Dawn's shorter ones to bring them up to her face.

  Pressing Dawn's index finger to the bridge of her nose, she continued. "Broken nose, September of 1999. That was the first broken nose that I remember, and I do all too well. I always fought back during punishments, so the Headmistress would swing blind, hoping to catch some part of me."

  Dawn's was suddenly contrite, and she knew the message was becoming clear. She dragged the pad of the young woman's finger down the bumpy bridge of her nose to her lips and tapped it there. "A few broken teeth," Mallory grinned like an animal showing its teeth, and then chomped her teeth together with a clacking noise, eliciting a giggle of surprise. "My front teeth are capped."

  Sweeping their hands upwards and to her left cheek, she brushed their linked fingers along a thin scar that was mostly hidden by her hairline. "A girl I kissed in 2000… her older sister clocked me good. Nobody much cared about it – they thought I was receiving my comeuppance. The headmistress refused to take me for stitches, so…" the finger tapped the scar.

  Eyes glassy with tears, Dawn bit at her bottom lip.

  Mallory traced her finger down to her neck, and over what most thought was a wrinkle across the silky expanse of the her neck. Underneath the feathery touch, Mallory gulped once and stared at the ceiling.

  "October 5th, 1998. A chain garrote."

  It was all she said before lowering her gaze to meet Dawn's for a moment. "That's all I wish to say about that," Mallory whispered before looking down at the carpet.

  Their linked hands slid to Dawn's blanket covered lap.

  "You were always defending yourself," Dawn argued, but her voice was hollow, and a little heart broken.

  Breaking the contact of their hands, Mallory shrugged and stood up.

  The loss of the touch felt important to Dawn, as if her heart was being drawn upwards by some invisible tether to her love, who was now breathing heavily and turning to escape the conversation.

  Sweeping the throw aside, Dawn stood up to reach for the retreating figure, slipping her fingers inside the back of the Mallory's tailored pants.

  Mallory's shoulders rose and fell in irritation, and she turned back. She hated to have Dawn see her cry, but it looked like the stubborn girl would have her way. Dawn's big, blue eyes and puzzled innocence made something inside her heart twist like a knife, and a sob escaped her lips.

  "Hey, it's okay…" Dawn pulled her into a hug. She nuzzled her way into the crook of Mallory's neck, and peppered light kisses along the scar.

  Beneath her, Mallory trembled and sighed, probably in relief.

  Needing to soothe and be soothed, Dawn's mind raced through what could be done. Baking? No, they were both tired. A nap? No, she was filthy and sweaty. Filthy and sweaty…

  "Let's go take a shower!" she exclaimed, startling Mallory with her excited shout.

  Mallory pulled back, and stared down with suspicion. "A show-er…" her tongue drew the word out in skepticism.

  Dawn rolled her eyes. "Look,
we're both tense. I'm dirty from the pitch and…Well, I'm just dirty." She figured an incentive would help. "I could wash your hair for you," she lured.

  "Mmm... You are indeed a dirty, naughty beast of a girl," Mallory grumbled, a hint of roughness to her voice. Slowly, her hands came up between them to fumble at the buttons of Dawn's hockey polo. As they came undone, her fingernails grazed the revealed flesh. A particularly feisty gleam crossed her green eyes.

  'Yes... That's it...' Dawn coaxed in her mind. Allowing Mallory some sort of dominance would appease the woman so much better than sweetness and apologies. While blinking her eyelashes coquettishly, she grinned. "But, I'm your dirty, naughty beast.”

  A sharp quirk came to Mallory's lips, and she backed away to walk towards the stairwell, unbuttoning the top of her pants as she went. "Come then, beastie."

  _____________________________________

  As Mallory washed the bruises around her face and neck tenderly, Dawn felt the stress melting away like the dirt and blood swirling the drain. Unlike their agreement downstairs, she had insisted Dawn not wash her. Instead, Mallory took the loofah to the parts of Dawn that were covered in grass stains and other filth.

  She was trying to erase the afternoon's fight, Dawn thought wryly.

  "There now," Mallory wiped the last of the soap away to kiss the tip of her nose.

  The action made her feel intensely beloved, so Dawn repeated the memory rapidly in the next moments, trying to file it away forever. Two words from Mallory could mean so very much. Right now, Dawn thought they meant something between 'you're safe now,' and 'I love you.'

  Satisfied that Dawn was at the very least clean, Mallory leaned forward to kiss at her neck, and bite gently at her pulse.

  "Are you very sore from destroying your enemy?" Mallory joked against her skin. Her breaths came heavy, but she remained hidden in the crook of Dawn's neck.

  "Mmm, not anymore," Dawn moaned, unconsciously spreading her legs to strengthen her stance in the slippery shower.

  Mallory's reply was laden with approval. "Good. Turn around, then. Hands on the tile." Her hands guided Dawn's hips to turn, well aware of their precariousness as the water continued to run over them in rivulets.

  Dawn followed the direction. Bracing her hands against the tile, she smiled as she expected good things to come.

  "Ready?" Mallory asked, her voice deep with need.

  As Dawn nodded, Mallory's hand came back a ways before coming down to land squarely on her bottom.

  "Ahh!" Dawn squeaked, her palms gripping the tile as much as they could… which wasn't much. Peering back over her shoulder in annoyance, she bit back some choice curses. "What was that for?"

  Mallory's gaze was smoldering, and she grinned wickedly. "I did promise to punish you, didn't I? Face to the front if you please, Miss Rose."

  Grumbling under her breath, Dawn did so. She locked her knees in anticipation, but was surprised when she didn't feel the sting of a spanking when Mallory's hands touched her once more. A palm cupped her rear where the smack had been laid, caressing softly before sliding down to spread her from behind. She felt her lover's tall, lithe body move closely behind her, and a hand came forward to rest atop hers on the tile.

  As teeth scraped down her neck and onto her spine between shoulder blades, Dawn groaned and panted. The hand that was pleasuring her slid back and forth easily in the dampness of arousal and water, dipping one finger, and then two, into her slick folds to tease her into a shaky mess.

  Abruptly, Mallory removed her hand from the wall, and from her flesh.

  Beyond curious, Dawn's head turned against her better judgment to see Mallory licking her fingers clean with a satisfied and cunning smile. Then, she left the shower.

  "W… Wait! Where are you going?" Dawn called after her. She hurriedly shut the water off and slid the curtain open.

  In the main area of the bathroom, Mallory dried herself off with a towel, looking quite pleased with herself. Inclining her head of wet, wavy mahogany hair towards Dawn, she shook her head. "Consider this your punishment for your insolence, beastie."

  Dawn stepped out of the shower. She couldn't believe what was happening. "You can't just… stop!"

  Laughing merrily, Mallory dropped the towel into the hamper, and sashayed into the bedroom. "I can, and I just did. Perhaps if you learn to behave, you'll earn your privileges back," she teased.

  Following hot on Mallory's heels, Dawn was about to issue a litany of disapproval for her assigned penance when Mallory's mobile phone rang from the bedside table.

  Mallory snatched it from the table and slid it to Talk, her face a picture of distaste for the interruption. "Hello?"

  The shrillness coming from the phone bowed Mallory over, and she laid a hand over her chest. Handing the phone to Dawn, she only whispered. "It's for you."

  Dawn was confused, but took the iPhone from Mallory's proffered hand. "H-Hello?" she asked. Who would call Mallory's mobile phone looking for her?

  "Oh my God!" Isla shrieked. "Papa is sending me to Scotland tomorrow morning, and it's all your fault he says - because you've been very bad. Come home, please! Please, Dawn… Come home!"

  Chapter 10: Desipientia (Desperation)

  She heard her own whimpering, and felt the hot shame of guilt creeping up her neck. Biting at her fist to keep from screaming, Mallory was back under her bed, in that room full of billowy white curtains and pink frills. The crashing of furniture and bodies meeting one another rang out from downstairs, and her father’s loud shouting was cut off abruptly.

  The door to her bedroom creaked open and shut quickly, and while she might have been glad to see her mother’s feet tiptoeing across the carpet any other time, somehow she knew that it would lead to whomever was downstairs to come up here.

  “My sweetling, no matter what... Hide!” her mother’s labored whisper begged.

  A blood-curdling scream met her ears as the door swung open again – this time forcibly enough to splinter the wood. Her mother’s feet turned towards the door to meet black boots head on, and the scream became silent. Delicate ankles turned akimbo like a rag doll collapsing, but stopped short of falling as they were dragged out of the doorway and down the hall.

  Unable to hold it in any longer, a tiny cry escaped her lips.

  The bed skirt came flying up to admit gloved hands underneath the bed. They grabbed roughly at her kicking ankles. Her shrieks flowed freely now.

  “Gotcha!”

  Mallory’s hand flew to her throbbing head as she jolted awake. Whenever she had this particular nightmare, she’d clench her jaw so tight that a migraine would haunt her for days afterwards. Her heart still pounded rapidly against her ribs, and she scrambled from beneath the cable knit throw and up the stairs to the bathroom.

  Her shaking hands swung open the medicine cabinet mirror to grasp desperately at bottles of medication – medication she’d forgotten to take before passing out from exhaustion on the couch at 4:30AM. She and Dawn had stayed up half the night fighting, crying, pleading, and yelling.

  Dawn was determined to find a way to London, abscond with her sister, and bring the child here. Mallory knew that was the easiest way to bring Steven Rose to their doorstep with constables and Children’s Services in tow – a most unwelcome idea.

  It’s what Dawn’s father wanted; he would stop at nothing to ruin her life now that she was no longer under his thumb. Her A-Level exams for Physical Sciences were in only two days, and Mallory refused to allow Dawn to throw away two years of Sixth Form over Steven’s manipulation.

  Her bleary eyes tried to make sense of the tiny prescription writing as she angrily picked each one out of the sink where they’d fallen in her haste. Leaving out the Zolpidem as a reminder, her hand finally settled on the bottle that said Clonazepam. She hated taking the numbing drug, but didn’t see any other option at this point. Her finger thrust inside the bottle for the blessed relief.

  Her fingers met air – the bottle was empty.

  �
�Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she hissed, her hand wrapping so tightly around the traitorous bottle that her knuckles whitened.

  Through the bathroom’s side door to the bedroom, she heard sheets rustling, and Dawn whimpering. The noise stabbed at Mallory’s growing headache, and she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

  She didn’t want to leave Dawn alone after such a fight, afraid beyond reason that she’d come home to an empty house. Worse yet, Mallory didn’t want Dawn to be here without her, considering the situation increasingly unsafe in her anxiety. She didn’t have much of a choice. Isla’s terrified bawling over the phone to Dawn last night had reminded her of the sound of her own screams.