A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  “Why am I here with you?” mumbles from me, as I keep tapping.

  I shouldn’t be. I should be with Gray, connected and relishing that. I look sharply around the room, searching for pills. I’ll take some, find him again and make it right. This is wrong. Malachi is wrong. He’s not mine. Not part of me like Gray is. I can’t feel him either, he’s barren of connection like the snow and cold outside.

  My gaze lands on him again, eyes like a hawk as he sits there watching me.

  “He gave you to me, Mrs Tanner. Put you in my arms.”

  No.

  My head shakes, body vibrating, as more anger burns through me. Gave me? He wouldn’t, and doesn’t have the right to even if he did. Who is my decision. Mine. My thoughts and opinions.

  I scramble across the floor, hands and feet propelling me towards the door until I’m upright. I’m leaving to find Gray. I need him to explain. Need him to talk and make this confusion go away. Everything was right with him. Solid and linked. It made sense in the minutes, or hours maybe when he was with me, inside me. This is – I jiggle the door handle, ratcheting it back and forth – not right.

  “Why is the door locked?” I snap, still pulling at it.

  “Because I’m still considering what to do with you.”

  “Let me out.”

  “No.”

  “I need Gray.”

  My hand keeps tugging the handle, body using everything I‘ve got to get it open. Tears well up in me. Anxious, chaotic tears that threaten to spill if I don’t get out of this room. I need him. I do. It’ll be right when I look at him, feel him on me again.

  “I told you not to fall for him, Mrs Tanner. He’s not yours to need.”

  A hand grabs my neck, hauling me backwards with enough force that I stumble in the process. I’m not doing this. Not now. I’m too lost again, too confused and disordered about what this is and where I am to know right or wrong. “Gray?” I whimper.

  I’m lifted and thrown, brutal hands tossing me towards the bed. My head collides with the bed post, as I bounce and whimper again, and then I’m dragged. Something’s around my wrist before I’m aware what’s happening, pulled taut to painful. I yank on it, head still dazed, as my other hand is stretched away and strapped tightly somewhere else.

  “I need Gray,” stumbles out of me again. I do. I need sense and lucidity. Real. “This isn’t right.”

  A laugh echoes in the room, as my feet are stretched away from me, gripped and manoeuvred. I can feel fingers everywhere on my skin. Sharp fingers. Malicious. Nothing kind or soft like the feather. Nothing meaningful.

  “You didn’t come here for Gray, Mrs Tanner. You came to forget and lose yourself,” he says, as more straps go around my ankles. Cold this time. Metal. Hard and unforgiving. I try moving my legs, scrunching them to get out of this, but nothing gives against the restraint as I pull and thrash in place.

  His face is suddenly over mine, eyes focused and amused. “This time you’ll remember losing yourself clearly without pills to lessen the blow.”

  “Malachi, I-“

  Something’s pushed in my mouth before I can finish. Material shoved deep. I gag and widen my eyes at him, a fear starting to settle over me because of his severe actions. “You talk too much, Mrs Tanner.” I tremble, unsure what this is or what it’s about to become, and watch as he backs off to stand by the bed. “Comfortable?” My head shakes rapidly, trying to tell him that no, I am not comfortable at all. I don’t want this. I want out of this and to Gray. “Good.”

  He moves away and disappears from view, leaving me with nothing but my own rapid breaths and more squirming to try to get free. Nothing budges still. I’m like a bird spread wide, no ability to move from the trap I’m in. Music starts suddenly. Heavy notes. I shrink down into the bed, trying to somehow hide from whatever is coming next. Dark notes. Notes that feel full of fear and dread. I shiver at the sound, my body trembling, as I wait. Nothing but the music, though. No movement. No touch. Just this dim light and sound getting louder around me.

  My mouth mutters words into the cloth, trying to shout for help. No one would hear me even if I did manage to make a sound. It’s too loud now. Constant. Slow and thudding, sending more shudders over my skin with each unnerving note that lands in the air.

  “Are you broken, Mrs Tanner?” Broken? I frown, wondering what that means, and snatch glances in the room to try to see him. Nothing. Just shadows and dark corners. Dark corners?

  A small smile tugs my lips over the fear I’m in. I can do dark corners. I’ve already done them. I roll my shoulders a little, sucking in a breath to get some calm back in me. “My wife thinks Gray is trying to fix you.”

  I don’t need fixing.

  I snarl into the cloth and force my body to stop reacting to the taunt of fear. I’m not afraid of here. I asked for here and everything that came with it. Malachi included. Clarity rushes in, reminding me of Gray asking me to leave with him – go home. I don’t want home. I want here and now and this if this is what being here means. My fingers start tapping a rhythm, finding a cadence in the music to cling to.

  Thud, thud. Thud, thud, thud.

  It gets heavier every time I drop the finger, and I ready myself for whatever’s next.

  Get on with it.

  Something hits me. My stomach buckles at the impact and then my back arches me off the bed, air rushing out of my nose. Pain. I look for him, my wide eyes furious because of the sensation. Still nothing but shadows and corners. And then the pain lands again. So hard and sharp, like metal landing on me.

  I suck in air repeatedly, shouting and screaming into the cloth at the same time for it to stop. Nothing stops. It comes again, and again, and again until it seems like it won’t stop at all. Everything on me heats and warms, muscles tensing to get away, but nothing stops the pain of it as it lands again.

  Tears leak from my eyes. I can’t stop them. Don’t want to either. They let something out of me, some terror or dread leaving with them. I feel them over the pain that keeps coming, feel their slow trickle on my skin as they roll down my cheek. Slow. They roll so slowly.

  Drip drip. Drip, drip, drip.

  And then there isn’t any pain anymore. There is only the drips and the thuds. The loud notes and music carrying on around me. Everything seems slow. Laboured and unclear. Almost empty of anything. But my stare through the tears is focused, precise. It’s there – the thing hitting me. Long. Many of them. Swishing through the air repeatedly to land in the same spots.

  “Ask for a reprieve,” his voice says calmly. “Blink for it.”

  No.

  Not now I’m in it.

  I keep my gaze firmly fixed on the thing as it comes down again, making sure my eyes stay wide, and brace against the blow that lands heavily on my skin. Ask for a reprieve? Why should I when this result is what I came for? I came for the nothingness and emptiness of that nothing. There are no feelings in nothing. I am a bitch and singular, able to survive without a man and never needing to ask for a reprieve again. Nothing that can tear me down or destroy what I am becoming.

  Weight lands on top of me, Malachi’s near black eyes staring into my own. I half squirm under the pressure of his body, trying to avoid contact on the marks he’s just caused, but then remember that I am more than that.

  My teeth grit down on the rag, body stilling regardless of the grate of his ribs on me.

  “Shall we talk about fucking now?” he asks, smirking. I don’t move, acknowledge, or change my direction of gaze. He can talk about anything he likes. I, clearly, can’t. “I’m wondering what you’re like to fuck, and why he seems so fascinated with you.”

  He moves, placing more of his weight onto the very spot that’s excruciating. I swallow and glare, waiting for more pain. That’s what’s coming. I know it. And if he took this fabric out of my mouth I’d ask for more of it because now the feelings are coming back, the hurt and aches. Rick filters in somehow. His face smiling at me.
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  One finger comes up to my face. Soft again. Feathers. My eyes flutter closed under the sensation, mind reeling back to thoughts of tender and gentle, as he wipes the last traces of tears from my cheeks. “What are these for?” he murmurs. “Tell me.” I shake my head, unable to articulate what they’re about even if I wanted to. “They’re not from the pain of the tails.”

  No. They’re not. They’re from something so deep that even I don’t understand it. Fear, pain, trust. A life lost and rejected as useless and replaceable. Sweet Hannah.

  Good Hannah who hoped and loved and dreamed.

  Stupid fucking Hannah.

  I mutter into the rag, telling him to stop, to leave me alone, to go back to the way it was so I can return to unfeeling and empty. Empty is best with them all. Cold and barren, just like that world outside this window. Only Gray gets anything more now. He gets heat from me. Thought, connection. And I want pills again. I do. I want all of them inside me so I can linger in their light and fun rather than deal with any of this probing. Any colour. All of them.

  Mixed and swallowed without thought to why.

  “Mmm. Intriguing.”

  The finger moves again, trailing slowly down my neck, chest, breast. He stops at the nipple and squeezes, twisting and winding bitterly as if trying to detach it from me. A groan comes out of me, the pain mingling with the nothingness I’m craving. It wakes parts of me that the pain earlier didn’t, makes my body writhe under him to grind on the bruises further.

  “You’re a little pain slut, Mrs Tanner.” I don’t know what that is, but if it’s to do with the power of the orgasm that’s rolling through my body, then yes, maybe I am.

  My eyes close again as he moves lower and pushes his hand between my legs, his nails raking across the sensitive bud of my clit. The nipple still twists and tugs, as the palm of his other hand pushes and rubs. More pressure, harder. My legs tremble first, arms beginning to shake soon after, and then his fingers push inside me.

  A muffled moan comes from me again, the sound building louder as he carries on. My ankles try to widen with the crescendo of the music crashing, try to give him more access to go deeper, but they’re locked tight. Held fast and not moving, as he holds me on the brink of orgasm.

  “I still don’t like you, but I’m willing to keep playing,” he says. I don’t know what that means, don’t care either. I beg into the fabric, nails digging into the bed for more. “We’ll make a bet, Mrs Tanner.” It’s painful. All of it. Slow and torturous. Warmth hits my nipple. Wet and warm and then hard teeth bite in without any care for the pain associated. I yelp into the fabric, sucking quick breaths in through my nose to stop the pain, as he pulls back to look at me. “You won’t win.”

  More whimpers. More moans and groans, as the tears spike my eyes again. I don’t care about bets. Don’t care about anything other than getting what I need now. And it’s too much. So much I can’t breathe through the onslaught. My head shakes, body vibrating to the point of me lifting off the bed to ease the ache, and then the orgasm finally takes hold.

  Every thought stops in my mind. Overridden by the spins and whirls, a sensation taking me over that consumes me entirely. “If you do I’ll teach you my trick and …”

  I don’t hear the rest of it. Don’t care.

  Chapter 10

  Gray

  I can hear her muffled sounds along with the music. I shouldn’t be able to. I should have stayed downstairs and revelled in the available options for me, but I’m here instead – listening behind doors like a reprobate.

  The scowl etched into my brow deepens, eyes fixed on the expanse of solid oak blocking me from her, and I wait. That’s all I’ve got. No intrusion is warrantable. No call for him to stop. I gave her to him, leaving him with only one request – make sure she enjoys it and stop if she says no. That’s all I could do to keep the separation as wide as possible and protect her, but that could still mean anything with Malachi.

  Pain.

  Humiliation.

  Degradation.

  Some fucked up game he’ll use to hurt both her and me.

  She’ll still be enjoying it, though.

  My eyes close under that thought alone, head shaking, jealousy raging, and I breathe long and deep to cleanse the useless dynamic of coupling out of my mind. We are not a couple. Not bound or entwined in courtship. We are simply two people limited to these walls around us now. The thought doesn’t make the fact that he’s with her any easier to bear, and a low growl sounds from me whether I want to admit it or not.

  I shift in the hard chair, crossing my legs the other way to ease the tension in me. I’ll just wait, make sure she’s alright by the time he’s done with giving her his sort of enjoyment, and then leave. I have to. The fact that I’m sitting here, concerned for her and wanting her over everything else that was available for me downstairs, is profound enough to prove the need for distance. I’ve had my fun, had my dick inside her and felt those moments she gave me. There’s nothing other than that. One more offer for her to leave with me, at least get back to New York with me, and then I’ll go. Maybe she’ll be ready now she’s fucked and lost herself for a while.

  Unlikely, but possible.

  A sigh leaves me, possessive overtures consuming rational thought.

  “You look so sad, Gray,” Faith’s voice says.

  I ignore the comment and her and carry on listening to the quietening music still coming out of the room, eyes still closed. I’m not interested in the taunts anymore. Won’t be wound up by them either. I’m calmer now, less pressured other than the need to get her out of this place.

  “I watched you fucking. Exceptional.” I know. I was part of it. My dick pulses, the memory of it firmly entrenched in my mind. “And yet you’re letting Malachi play. I’m surprised at your affability. I thought you’d be selfish about her.” Another growl seeps out of me, mouth screwing up into a snarl. “Not interesting enough?”

  My eyes open slowly, irritation forcing them. Hannah is the most interesting thing to happen to me in ten years. She’s inside me, persuading me, somehow becoming part of me regardless of this door separating us.

  Faith looks back at me, a red ball-gown covering her skin now, and she smiles as she sips at a cocktail. “She won’t leave, you know. She’s bedded in now. Happy to be evolving past normality. I saw it in her eyes. Too much like me when Mal first found me.”

  “She will,” mutters from me. “She’s nothing like you, Faith.”

  “But she is. You know it as well as I do. She’s running from something. Lost.” She sips again and looks me over slowly, drawing her gaze from the floor to my eyes. “She’ll feel safe here. Able to express herself and become new.”

  “She isn’t lost. She’s grieving.”

  A light chuckle comes from her, her body weaving through the furniture to get to me. “That is not a grieving woman, Gray. That is a woman finding herself again.” She sits in the chair opposite me, blocking my view. “You know it as well as I do. Maybe your idea of fixing is working.”

  “I’m not trying to fix her.”

  “No? What are you trying to do?”

  My brow scrunches, stare moving to look at the window rather than her. I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I didn’t think past bringing her here for a few days, certainly didn’t think I’d become entangled in something I can’t honour. And now I can’t think of anything else but getting her out of here or staying with her and forgetting responsibilities I cannot overlook.

  “Go away Faith.”

  “No.”

  I sigh and look back at her, accepting the fact that nothing ever makes either of them go away. Hasn’t done for years. They’re always there in the back of my head, tempting me into a world I can’t play in for longer than the time I give it. “I’m not like you, Faith. I have a life outside of this.”

  “You have no life, Gray,” she drawls. “You have homes that you exist in and a business you’re not interested in beyond the money it makes you.” I s
nort at that answer, acknowledging it. It’s true, apart from the responsibility that comes with a past I can’t deny.

  The thought makes me look back towards the door Hannah’s behind again, questioning things that shouldn’t be questioned, as I imagine her under me. “Why not just make a new life?” She says. “I think that’s what Malachi’s hoping.”

  I look back at her. “What?”

  She swings her legs up on the arms of the chair, head resting back on the wing of it. “I’m not sure why, but he seems to need you here with him.”

  The door suddenly opens behind her and Hannah wanders out into the room, a robe swinging loosely around her. She glares at both of us, ponders for a few seconds, and then heads for a tray of drinks. A bottle of vodka gets picked up and tipped to her mouth, long slow glugs being gulped until she pulls it from her lips.

  “Is that what you want from me?” she asks. I stare, unsure what she’s asking me. “That, in there?” Another drink gets gulped. “And the stuff in the other room. When was that?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know whether I liked it or not, Gray.” I still don’t know what she’s talking about, but then I notice the robe slither as she moves towards me. It opens slightly, revealing the stripes across her abdomen. “You said pain was fun here. I don’t think fun is the right word for it. And did you fuck someone else?”

  Faith laughs. I don’t. I’m too busy looking at the stripes in front of me on display, scrutinizing and considering the jealousy rising because of them. They sway in my eye-line, Hannah’s hips making a meal out of the move. “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  She turns and walks back to the room, the bottle of vodka still dangling in her hand. “I win,” she calls.

  “Fuck,” I hear from the room. “I’m not doing it.”

  “You are. You said you would.”

  Malachi walks out, his belt being buckled and an open shirt skimming his chest. “Why didn’t you fuck something else?” he snaps.