A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  He leans forward into the light, and the shadows over his brow line make him appear menacing and ominous. “It’s time to show me you.” I frown, wondering what he’s talking about. “You. I want to fuck you, not this place.” I swallow again, as I watch his mouth moving around words. “I want the fragile frame who came here, the one who looked like a deer in crosshairs irrespective of her sinister scowl.” I harden my features, annoyed at the term fragile. I’m not fragile. I’m grown. Evolved passed that now. “I’ve taken them away from you now. One pill takes all the others away. There are no pills when we leave. None for you now either. Get used to the feeling again.”

  The last of it makes me catch on, and I realise what the sensation coursing through me is. No drugs. Normal. Just me again. A low laugh rumbles through the space around me, echoing off walls and ceilings, as he disappears back into the gloom he came out of. “Keep dancing for me, Hannah. This time with your fingers inside yourself. You want me, prove you do.”

  Everything inside me waivers and falters, my body showing him that by way of absolute stillness. I frown at myself, irritated by my hesitation and annoyed that he’s made this happen. I didn’t want that. I wanted … What did I want? To bt connected. I wanted him and that connection we share, the brutality and absolute beauty of it.

  I blink and stare around the room, part listening to the throng of revellers outside this space still revelling, and part trying to find who I am without the pills inside me. Hannah? He wants Hannah. Who is she? My fingers nervously tap my thigh, searching for meaning and feeling under his stare.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  “Stop thinking. Keep evolving for me.”

  Those words alone are enough for me to remember the cave, the pool, the icy water rushing over me and the feeling being beneath it. I changed down there. I forgot and forgave myself, found a new me to enjoy and endure. Bubbles floated out of me as if they were old dreams and old memories.

  My body starts moving at the thought of it all, music and rhythm flooding me with an inner confidence exceeding what I had before this. I smile and stare into the darkness, searching for his eyes and lips to tempt me forward again. One step, two, and I slither into the dark right in front of him, my hands slowly going back to where they were before he interrupted my mood.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs.

  Hot. I’m hot again, needy. So needy. I reach into the front of my panties and run a finger through the wet seam already available. One touch and I’m on fire under his watch, ready and willing to do anything for him again.

  A sharp, sucked breath comes back at me, as I sink two fingers inside myself and widen my legs for access. Deep. I want deep and dark, torrid and stifling. I knee my leg onto the chair beside him at the thought, the other leg reaching over to sit astride his thighs. Close and connected, drugs or not.

  Deeper and deeper I plunge, small jabs and longer ones to ease myself over the cliff I’m trying to ride out. My head tips back, one hand stabilising me on the arm of the chair, as the heel of my palm rubs harder to get me there quicker. Moans and groans fall from my lips, the sound of his breathing making me find a quicker rhythm to follow and squirm under. So close. So very close to falling and not caring for the landing.

  A hard slap lands on the side of my face, shocking me, and then another one comes from the other side. “Talk.” My mouth stutters, teeth gritting to find the last of the orgasm climbing through me, and then his heavy hand covers mine to force me still. “You talk, or you don’t come at all.”

  I grind myself on his and my own hand, barely able to stop the feeling building in me regardless of his threat. I’m knocked off his lap the second I do it, my arms and legs flailing to the ground beneath his feet. I grunt at the impact, body turning the moment I can to glare up at him. He doesn’t budge an inch, just sits there in his dark corner with nothing but a threat in his eyes and one arched brow.

  “Try again, Hannah. Let’s get that pretty mouth moving around some dirt again.”

  My head drops, eyes searching the floor for inspiration, as I push myself to standing again. I think back to the shower, to the way he handled me and forced me against that wall. I can still feel the creak of my bones as he did, the pain in my back.

  My hands creep to the lace of my panties again at the thought, eyes coming back up to his.

  “I want that pain again,” I murmur, fingers inching to my clit. “You fucking me and me screaming for more of it.”

  His face disappears into the gloom, as I back away from him to find my own space. I’m not using him for balance anymore. I am my own balance, my own storm. My shoulders roll, body straightening to prove my worth. “Can you do that for me, Gray? Ram yourself into me so hard I break?” My fingers delve further into me again, instantly igniting the spark still lingering.

  A long moan falls from my lips, legs widening to let me rub harder, quicker. “I want your cock where my fingers are, my back on a wall and your weight all over me.” The pad of my finger grazes through me to touch that one part of me that no one has been inside. I smile and groan at the thought of it, memories coming of the things I asked him for on our first night together. “Do you remember what I said I wanted, Gray?” My breath hitches at the glorious buzz running over me, the desperate need burning. “Anal.”

  I turn away from him and push my panties down, easing them slowly over my ass and bending to give him a full view of possibilities. “You could do that to me,” I murmur, running my hand between my legs to let a finger linger there. “You could do anything to me at all. What do you want to do to me?”

  I hear the zipper on his pants lower, small movements making more sound.

  “Back up to me,” he says. I do, trepidation making me stiffen a little. “You want it in your ass?” I nod into the air and come to stop somewhere near him. “Bend over again and put your fingers inside it. Stretch yourself. It hurts at first.” My ass tightens in response to that, shoulders going rigid.

  A low chuckle sounds out of him, as I cautiously move my body downwards to do as I’m told. “You scared, Hannah?” No, not scared. I’m never scared with him.

  I run a finger through myself again, picking up as much juice as I can to ease into the tight muscle. “Other hand inside you still,” he mutters.

  The rim of muscles breaks at the same time as I slip three fingers inside my pussy. Pleasure floods me, heavenly feelings assaulting me because of the two sensations. I groan and push into my ass deeper, moving the knuckle around until I can feel my fingers working against each other.

  “Oh god,” falls from my lips. It’s so strong. The feeling. It’s blinding and destructive, enough to make my clit spasm and my legs shake in my heels.

  “Back up some more.”

  I do, shakily, trying to keep my balance intact with each footstep. And then I’m pitched backwards and grabbed, harsh hands as possessive as they can be on my skin, and a pain assaults me like I’ve never felt before.

  Chapter 16

  Gray

  T he head of my dick throbs painfully, as I push her body downwards and forge inwards some more. She’s done well at teasing me, brought anger and need to the forefront of my thoughts. My palm runs up her spine and I unclip the bra to expose all that skin to me. She should tattoo it, have dark words written on pale skin to highlight her change. So soft and fragile. Not that she is anymore. Maybe she’s never been that, but she is small under my hands, and so will that ass be.

  “Breathe,” I murmur at her.

  She pants, as I move her further onto me. Hovers like a mouse on the edge of death. I can smell the air around us, the heat, the arousal coming from her cunt and my wants. Provocative knows no fucking bounds with her. She moans and shudders, her fingers beginning to move again as I grind the length of my dick into her slowly. It presses in harshly, as my other hand holds her hip where I want it so I can seat myself fully.

  “Keep fucking yourself,” I mutter, pulling her back onto me.

  She gasps at the s
ensation of me filling her, a pained grunt coming out of her as her hand stops. I push in deeper, keeping her perched so I can watch the veins and ridges disappearing inside her. “I want to feel your hand touching me. Run your fingers over me inside you.”

  Slowly the hand starts moving again, delving in search of what I mean. The tips of her fingers run over the skin separating us, and that seems to cause a groan from her and momentum again. It’s enough for me to rut in a few times, buoyed by her seductions and teases. I pull her upright and lay her back to me, giving her the chance to do this herself, and take my hands out to the side of us.

  “You fuck me. Ride it. And watch in front of you while you do.”

  She moves and moans again, head slowly tipping up to look into the dark shadows around us. Skin emerges from the depths of it, two sculptured bodies twined together and kissing. One dark. One pale. Both muscled and lust filled because they’ve had to wait in their corner until asked to come out. Men fucking. She wanted that. She’s getting it.

  I lean back and wait for her to move on me, giving her that power for now, and stare at her spine as it drops a few inches in front of me. More of me sinks inside her carefully, as her hand continues moving slowly. Another moan. A groan. A pained mewl, as she widens her legs around me to get comfortable. Her hand grips my thigh, balancing her, and she keeps watching on as the taller one of the two manoeuvres the other over a bench and pushes his fingers inside the guy.

  I don’t watch them any more than that. I didn’t come to watch anything but her. Her back, her hips, her face. I tug on the end of her hair to remind her of fucking and then growl as the hand inside her comes out to balance on my other thigh. But she starts riding, finding her rhythm on me and churning me inside her. Seamless. Effortless. And fast. My eyes stay fixed on her form moving, squeezing, and fucking me. She’s owning it. Owning me with her mouth and her body and her attitude.

  The whole damn thing makes me grunt at the feel of her coming, and move my hand to her cunt. Down, lower, through the wetness and inside. Her back goes rigid, the whole of her body trembling as she begins falling apart on me. Doesn’t stop me delving in deeper, though, feeling myself moving inside her ass.

  I push her flatter once she’s done with that first one, flatter still until she’s tipping off my thighs and dropping to her hands and knees on the floor.

  “Keep watching,” I mutter, moving her.

  She does, head up and focused, regardless of the quiver I can still feel all over her. My belt comes out the loops, doubled over just as quick, and a sharp yelp comes from her as it lands hard on her ass.

  One of the guys looks over and smiles at her before going back to his fucking. Another lands, and another, and another until she’s begging for less of it. Tough. She wanted me, pushed me, she can get all those things I’ve thought about and never achieved.

  My fingers manhandle her roughly, forcing her where I want her without waiting for agreement, and keep going until I’ve had my fill of hearing that noise landing on skin by my own hand. She cries after a while. She cries and she moans and she tries looking back at me, perhaps searching for the man she knew who behaved like a gentleman. He isn’t here now. He’s gone and lost. The man who is here is taking bitterly if necessary. I’ll bite into whatever I want, and take whatever it is that I want out of her and this night, because it will be over after this.

  The hits to her ass alter after a while, my aim striking upwards at the cunt she presents so well while her shoulders and arms are giving way. Vicious. Unforgiving. Unrelenting. A low smile stretches across my face, as I watch her shiver under that torment and come again. My fingers go straight into her, needing to feel that clamping, feel the need of a woman all around me. I’ve denied myself this for years, watched and done nothing other than touch myself and none of them.

  Not this time.

  My clothes get discarded and the belt goes to her open mouth, my hands shoving it across her teeth. “Bite down, this will hurt.”

  It does hurt her. It’s endless, as I drive myself into her ass again and keep stretching that pussy wide open. I find a dildo from the racks and use it, harshly opening her ass up as I fuck into her, and then I use the belt again on her back, ribs, shoulders. She’s yanked, tugged, pulled into any position I can think of using and fucked again from a new angle, all the time keeping her eyes forward so she can keep watching the men fucking like she said she wanted. She gets that.

  I get this.

  My mouth moves over her raw skin, biting, licking, sucking. Ass, cunt, nipples and bones. Anything I can get my teeth to or taste with my tongue is devoured and not given fair warning for the pain that’s coming because of them. Warnings aren’t for people like her or me. Not now. She knew. She felt the power of me in her, on her.

  And yet still she pushed for her dance.

  Her one dance.

  Each time I come it blends into the next eruption, brings a new sensation because of her voice, tone and pleas egging me on for more, regardless of her same pleas for leniency. She’s not getting any. Not here. She’s got her fantasy to watch, and I’m using mine for as long as I’m able. Ferocious, feral thoughts push me onwards, years of holding back and containing finally finding freedom to commit sin after sin after sin. I’m fogged over, misted in animalistic lust for her skin and unable to hear anything but her and her desperation, whether that be for more or less.

  I eventually drag her limp body from the floor and push it towards a wall, not finished regardless of coming repeatedly inside her, on her. It’s in her mouth, in her hair, on her face and in her ass. And I’ll go again and again until I can’t move anymore and I’ve come more times than I can remember.

  She groans and hangs onto me, letting me use and abuse anything I feel like using on her. Every hole, every thought delivered without remorse or guilt or shame. She’s hitched upwards, body pressed back on the old walls in here so I can fuck her some more. Both holes. In one, out, into the other. Over and over again until she’s mewling on my shoulder and I can feel the slick trickle of her tears lilting along my spine.

  One hand pushes her neck back so I can look at her face, the other holding her ass up as my body leans onto her. She’s a mess of tears and exhaustion. Eyes swollen. Lips bruised and battered, torn. I kiss at them again, forging my tongue in and revelling in the small whimpers and moans that still keep coming from her.

  Beautiful, and for now, mine.

  The pained sense of coming again rises through me eventually, building and growling for more. It hurts. I’m as battered as she is. Every shunt inwards feels like needles stabbing into me. And every pull out feels like a loss I won’t accept. My muscles groan and ache, as my legs begin giving way under my own torment. But her nails keep me going. They’re clawing into me, pulling me by the shoulders to keep going, move harder and faster.

  I grunt at the feel of it rising, my mouth softening on hers if only for a few seconds, and groan loudly as it pulses into her for the last time. I pant hard at it and rest my head against hers, barely able to move. Everything aches. Every bone. Every fibre of me. And yet, if I could, I’d fuck her again and again for the rest of this one night.

  Instead, at least for now, I let her fall through my arms down to the floor and walk backwards away from her so I can feast on that vision for a while. Memorize it some more. Drool over the looks, feel, smell and taste of her around me.

  My ass drops into the chair, breathing laboured, as I gaze and reach for my cigarettes. She’s the picture of broken pieces down there, her body torn and used, and her fragility languid and lazed by the old bench. A frown drops on my face, as I watch her breathing through the things I’ve done to her, and suck in some smoke.

  Still, I trace the stripes and welts with my eyes, both annoyed and pleasured because of them. She took everything from me that I’ve kept pent up for years, begged for more of it, or less, and then kept pushing back. And I can still feel that now, regardless of this space I’m forcibly putting between us. She’
s all over me. Her thoughts, her body, her hands.

  I breathe deeply and memorize her there, let the image of something so beautiful, so rare and prized to me resonate as deeply as it can for as long as it can. Dark hair wet with sweat. Dark eyes haunting my every thought, pulling me to places no one else ever has. Those damned lips should be rewarded for their bravery, or sectioned for their stupidity. And I should be condemned for my culpability in something I should have stayed far away from.

  The gold chain lies out to the side of her, twisted and tangled and yet still attached to her. I frown at that, too, wondering what protection I’ve just given her. None. None from the man I am here, and none from the man I will be again when we’re done.

  “Gray?” she whispers after a while. I don’t answer. I keep watching, enjoying the view of my deeds all over her skin. “What does this all mean?”

  My brow arches, a smirk settling as I watch her attempt to pull herself upright and then give up trying. Her finger taps the floor, bouncing lightly against the dirty linoleum that’s bleached of cum and sweat each day. “You and me?” she murmurs. It means nothing. Can’t mean anything at all other than what it is while we’re here. Still, I lean forward and keep staring at the only thing that’s intrigued me into this. No one else but her. “I don’t know what it means.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything, Hannah.” Her head turns to look at me through the smoke I’m blowing out in her direction. “This is nothing but a distraction from that world we’re heading back to. I told you that.” She nods and scuffs her face on the padded bench, rubbing it back and forth in some motion of her own. “It’s not real. Nothing here ever is.”

  I watch the finger tapping again, the listless way her body hangs lifelessly. Reddened knees. Reddened marks all over her from my handling. Another blow of smoke filters into the air, clouding her from me for a few seconds, and then she’s back again in full view, naked, exhausted, and extremely real.