Tales of Darkness & Sin: An Anthology

by Pepper Winters

  Strike after strike, I paint her pale ass with crimson stripes, and when her ass has endured enough punishment, I hit her thighs too. In the Vitale home, this is a fitting punishment for an unruly child. Until she proves to be anything other than a runaway brat, she’ll get the belt time and time again. It taught me, and it’ll certainly teach her. If she has any hope for survival with me in my world, these are lessons she absolutely must learn.

  “Will you run again?” I ask, my chest heaving from exertion.

  “No,” she sobs.

  I listen to her devastating howls that echo through the trees. My dick is hard as fuck in my slacks. Unfortunately, my audience—Roscoe and Hyde—are equally as affected by this scene. Irritation flashes through me like a lightning strike.

  “Ready a room for her,” I bark out, possession curling its way around my heart. “I can handle the girl.”

  Both men stiffen, nod my way, and then disappear into the shadows. As she continues to sob, I slide my belt back through the loops and buckle it. I take a moment to admire my handiwork. Even in the moonlight shining through the trees, I can tell her ass is ruined. Each time she sits, it’ll be a painful reminder of the time she tried to run away from me.

  She can run…but she’ll never get far.

  I will always catch her, and when I do, I will hurt her. I will teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.

  “Are you ready to behave?” I growl as I undo the knot on my black tie.

  “Y-Yes.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  I pull my tie loose and then straddle her small body, resting my weight on her abused ass. She continues to cry and tremble. Gently, I stroke her messy hair away from her face, so I can see her red, tearstained cheek. Her eyes are squeezed shut as though she can keep me out.

  Silly girl, the darkness is where I live.

  I slip the end of my tie under her neck and pull it around. I’d love actual rope, but I will improvise. With a quick knot of my tie around her neck, I fashion a makeshift collar and leash. Since she wants to run away like an untrained dog, I need to keep her tied up like one. I maintain a tight grip on the tie and then stand.

  “Up,” I order, pulling on the tie and making her gag. “Time to go.”

  She scrambles to her feet and forces her fingers beneath the tie, as if to try and pull it from her flesh, so she can breathe better. Unfortunately for her, the tie isn’t coming off until I take it off.

  I give the tie a yank, and she stumbles forward, walking awkwardly now with her panties tangled around her ankles. Her golden, leaf-littered strands stick to her messy, snotty face. Dirty smudges are smeared all down the front of her body and the side of her face that was pressed against the earth when I had her pinned. She’ll need a shower immediately. I spent too long making my home perfect for a new pet to dirty it up.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she chokes out, as we begin our trek back to the house.

  “Oh, Tesoro, I already did. What I think you meant to say was, ‘I’ll behave now, Sir.’”

  She doesn’t have an answer for that. Good. I’m done talking. I’ve had an eventful evening. All I want is to take a long shower, rub one out, and then go the fuck to sleep.

  “If you fuck my staff, I will cut your throat, no questions asked,” I tell her, my voice level and even. “Your female manipulation tactics won’t work. You’re mine now. Until I decide I don’t want you anymore, you are Vitale property.”

  She’s far too innocent, at this point, to fuck my staff but in case she feels ballsy later, she’ll need to remember my warning.

  “I don’t understand,” she chokes out. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I ever do to you? My daddy—”

  “Your daddy won’t do shit,” I snarl, yanking on the tie and making her gag. “He gifted me your young, virgin cunt because he chose money over you. I could have had you right here three years ago, but unlike your father, I have morals.” Lies. “And I waited. You’re fucking welcome, brat.”

  Her green eyes well with tears. “He would never do that.” The flicker in her unsure gaze says she knows he would. Pathetic girl.

  “He did. Kept you ripe and pure for little ol’ me.” I smirk at her. “I should destroy your pussy right here on the lawn because I can. Because you’re mine. Because you’re nothing but an asset I received in a negotiation. Mine to use as I please.”

  A tear races down her filthy cheek.

  “Aww,” I mock, jerking the tie until she’s damn near pressed against my chest. “You probably don’t even know how sex works, you poor girl. Let me explain how it goes.” I stroke my thumb along her wet cheek smearing the dirt. “I cut your ruined dress off your body, rip your bra off your teenage tits, yank your stupid shoes off your feet. Then, I pin you facedown against the grass as you scream and beg for mercy. I take out my dick, that’s way too big for your tight pussy, and I ram it inside you. You’ll scream and cry because it’ll hurt, Tesoro. I’ll make you bleed because your body will be forced to stretch to accommodate the intrusion.”

  “Please,” she begs.

  “Please what?” I taunt. “Let you come?”

  Her eyes flash with confusion.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never had an orgasm,” I rumble, my eyes narrowing as I study her messy face.

  “I hate you,” she mutters.

  “I hate you too, beautiful. But won’t it be lovely when I put my tongue between your bloody thighs and lap away all the hurt? To hear you beg for more as I lick your needy clit to ecstasy?”

  “N-No.”

  “Liar,” I say with a devilish grin. “You’ll crave my sweetness because it’ll taste better than the pain.” I rub my thumb over her wet lip. “I’ll enjoy watching you fall helplessly in love with a monster. Breaking you into a thousand pieces—all for me to play with and own—will make me a very happy man.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she demands, more hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Because I can, Tesoro. Because I can.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Melody

  Ice cold water beats on my back as I sit, nestled in the corner of the shower. I have my arms tightly wrapped around my legs as I hug them to my chest in the fetal position. Silent tears drip down my cheeks as fear digs its talons into my chest, clawing at the thumping organ inside. I feel like lightning trapped in a glass bottle. On the outside, I’m solid and numb, but inside, it feels like a storm. All it would take is one hairline crack and the glass encasing me will shatter. Deep down, I know I won’t be able to survive this. Nothing about my upbringing has prepared me in any way for anything like this.

  As much as I try not to, I can’t stop thinking about my father. There’s this sharp pain in my chest that makes it impossible to breathe when I think about what he’s done.

  How could he do this to me?

  All these years, I hoped for my father to show me some semblance of respect. An inkling of adoration, anything that would give me a sign that he loves and cares about me.

  I was foolish to wish for any of those things.

  He passed me off to this monster, without a single care in the world, all to pay for his own sins. He’s no better than this man. They’re both cruel. Vile. Sadistic men.

  Disgust crawls up and down my spine as I think about him, the man I’ve spent endless nights thinking about, fantasizing about. I spent years wondering who he was, wondering why I couldn’t erase him from my mind.

  I force a thick swallow and stiffen when I feel pressure around my neck. On autopilot, my fingertips flutter to the tie that’s still tightly wound around my throat. The skin there already feels raw and bruised. I slam my eyes shut, another hot tear slipping down my cheek when I think about everything that has happened within a few short hours.

  One moment I was enjoying my freedom at the carnival, and the next, I was waking up to a throbbing pain in my skull in an unknown vehicle, surrounded by unfamiliar men. Even now, the back of my head twinges at the memory of rough
hands manhandling me.

  Ice floods my veins when I think of him—my captor. The way he chased me down, much like a predator would its prey. He did it with such ease, I knew this couldn’t be his first time. He was much too skilled. Much too evil. It was there to be read in his eyes, like the pages of a forbidden book, the darkness that consumes him. He isn’t playing a part or pretending to be something he’s not. He wants to hurt me, and what’s more frightening? I can tell he’s going to enjoy it, watching my downfall.

  He frightens me.

  With a single glance alone, the man is terrifying.

  That’s why I tried to run, I foolishly thought I could escape. I foolishly believed I could get myself to safety.

  I was wrong.

  The way he humiliated me with his belt, exposing parts of my body no one has ever seen, was degrading. It made me sick with horror. I’ve only just gotten here, and I already feel broken, as though I’m barely hanging on by a thread. I thought I was stronger than this. Strong enough to withstand his cold and rough hands on my body. Strong enough to withstand any pain he inflicts. I shudder, just thinking about the way the leather of his belt seared across my flesh. My backside feels raw. Even now, there’s a constant burning across my lower half that demands my attention. It’s agonizing.

  After spewing his vile threats and promises, he dragged me inside his home, his grip tight and unrelenting on the tie wrapped savagely around my throat. He didn’t bother giving me a tour, it’s not like this was some social visit. Instead, he dragged me up a set of stairs and all but shoved me into a bathroom. With dark wood floors and a vintage clawfoot tub, this might’ve been a dream for most people, but when he demanded I undress myself, it was clear that this was nothing more than a nightmare.

  One I wasn’t sure I would survive.

  This is where I’ve been sitting ever since. On the cool marble of the shower, with the ice-cold water drenching me. He didn’t bother turning on the warm water to make me comfortable, he chose to leave it on the coldest setting. And I let him.

  Why did I let him?

  A spark of fury ignites in my chest. With myself, my father and him.

  This isn’t me. I refuse to be that girl, the one who will give in. The one who will roll over and let him take whatever he wants from me. He may think he can break me, and maybe he will, maybe he’ll take everything from me, but I make a promise to myself, here and now, that I’ll do whatever it takes to save myself. Whatever it takes to escape. Because I refuse to become another one of this man’s victims. I refuse to let my father’s choices end my life.

  I tense at the sound of heavy footfalls clipping along the wood floors. The hairs at the nape of my neck stand at attention, and I slam my eyes shut. The footsteps stop a few feet away from me, and I wait, fearing what will come next.

  “Get up.”

  My heart lurches at his sharp tone and I recoil. As if to serve as a reminder of my disobedience, the burning in my backside suddenly grows stronger. A warning of some sort, telling me if I don’t get up now, there’s no telling what he might do.

  I suck in a steadying breath as I push to my feet slowly, doing my best to work through the aching in my backside. Of their own accord, I wrap my arms around my nude body, trying to hide myself from his prying eyes. I hear his chuckle behind me, as though my humiliation amuses him. He’s a spectator, toying with me for sport.

  “So innocent,” he muses, his voice growing closer, rolling over my flesh like pinpricks. “Drop your arms and face me.”

  My stomach twists, emotion clogging the airway in my throat.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t.

  “If I have to repeat myself, you won’t like what comes next.”

  A whimper tumbles past my lips as I turn to face him, dropping my arms as instructed. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and my throat closes up. I force myself to focus on the right corner of the ceiling, anything to keep from looking at him. A sob rattles in my chest, perilously close to slipping out when I feel the heat of his gaze rake across my exposed flesh. I try not to cower when he eats up the distance between us.

  “I’m going to enjoy this a lot more than I originally thought,” he muses, running his knuckles down the center of my sternum. I jump at the touch. My eyes flash to his, wide and fearful.

  Our gazes clash, blue to green. A current of electricity passes between us, causing my heart to pound in my chest like an angry metronome. Something passes over his features, but before I can read into it, he jerks his chin toward the running water behind me.

  “Get in, and don’t even think about trying anything.”

  Nausea pools deep in my gut and my brows pull down. “W-what? I’m not going to shower with you in here.”

  His nostrils flare and his eyes turn to shards of ice, spearing me into submission. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to.”

  I square my shoulders. “I won’t.”

  The muscle along his jaw jumps, and before I can stop him, his hands jolts out, gripping my neck in a vise. A scream gets caught in my throat when he slams my back up against the shower wall, stealing the very breath from my lungs as he gets in my face.

  “Let’s try this again. You’re going to get under that water and let me wash you like the fucking good little girl that you are.” His grip around my neck tightens ever so slightly, driving his point home. It’s enough that it causes the blood to rush to my face, and my eyes to bulge against the pressure. Panic grips my chest. I claw at his hand, struggling against his hold, trying to pry his lithe fingers off of me, but it’s futile, his grip is unrelenting. When black dots begin to dance in my vision, I lose my fight, and he capitalizes on it. Loosening his hold, only slightly, he drags me under the running shower head until I’m choking on the influx of water.

  When he lets go, I sputter, clasping onto the shower wall and using it to keep myself upright, while my heart races frantically. My throat burns and my lungs feel as if they’re on fire. I drag my gaze up to meet his and find him watching me with a blank expression on his face. His eyes are the only thing that give him away, there’s a challenge there. He wants to find a reason to hurt me.

  Biting back my frustration, I step under the spray again, and allow the water to soak my hair and sluice down my body. The droplets feel like little pinpricks stabbing at my flesh. I steel myself, trying not to flinch when I feel his rough hands on me. They’re lathered with a lavender scented soap and they’re incredibly warm. It’s a stark contrast to the cold water beating against my skin.

  Slamming my eyes shut, I force myself to shut my mind off and go somewhere else. Any place but here with him and his hands on me.

  “One more thing, Tesoro.” I grit my teeth together and peel my eyes open, raising a brow, waiting for him to continue. “You’re going to watch me wash you. Don’t take your eyes off me, understand?”

  My nostrils flare with anger at the glint of amusement that’s there in his eyes.

  With my hands curled into fists at my sides, I do as he says, keeping my gaze locked on his while he runs his hands across my body. His face gives nothing away. It’s void of any thoughts or emotions. I’d imagine most men would be wearing a look of pure unadulterated lust, but him…it’s almost as though he’s unaffected while he traces the subtle curves of my body.

  He swirls his thumb around my nipple, and I gasp, recoiling away from him touch, shocked by the sensation. His gaze shoots to mine, full of ire. With a shaky breath, I step back into my original spot and allow him to resume, hating him and myself with every second that passes.

  When his soapy hand slips between my thighs, I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, holding back my tears. I expect him to take advantage of me like this, but as our gazes lock, he does a quick swipe between my legs, his fingers parting my lips and tracing down there, only slightly, before moving on to someplace else.

  Once my entire body and my hair are washed and I’m humiliated beyond measure, he guides me out of the shower,
with that stupid tie still secured around my throat. A chilly blast of air hits me as I follow him out of the bathroom and into a hallway. He doesn’t offer a towel to cover my nude body with. Of course not. Instead, he parades me around, every part of my body exposed for anyone to see.

  My chest quakes and I dart my gaze around frantically, wondering if those men from earlier are still around here, just waiting somewhere in the shadows. Through some small miracle, it’s just us.

  We slow to a stop outside of a closed door. The wood is ingrained with ornate designs, speaking to his home’s age and its character. When he pushes it open and nudges me inside, my heart skids to an abrupt halt and all the air is knocked out of me.

  The floor beneath me shifts, my entire world tipping off its axis.

  The room is completely empty, save for a window and a bed dead center. There’s a white fitted sheet on top. Nothing else. No comforter. No dresser, no closet full of clothes.

  It’s a glorified prison.

  “What is this?” I whisper.

  “Your room.”

  My eyes shoot to his, searching for a more concrete answer. He doesn’t give one. Instead, his hands go around my throat where he works to undo the knot of the tie. As soon as it’s off, I rub at my neck, feeling how chaffed the skin is. I inhale a deep breath, but my reprieve doesn’t last long. When he stands behind me and wraps something else around my throat, something tighter and thinner, I tense.

  There’s a sound of a mechanism clicking into place and my eyes widen. My hands fly to my throat, once again, and my mouth gapes in horror when I realize what it is.

  “Get this thing off me,” I demand, referring to the collar.

  “I think it looks awfully good on you.”

  “I want it off and I want my clothes.”

  His eyes flash at my defiance.

  He spins me around and twists his fist in my hair, tugging hard enough that I’m forced to look up at him. I try to ignore the way my nipples rub against the material of his suit, the way his scent clogs my airways.