A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  I pick up a buckle and dangle it from my finger, chuckling. “Do you even want to wear this?”

  “Yes. Malachi says.”

  I nod and pick up some more bits, eventually rearranging them into the outfit. It’s just a puzzle, something to be analysed and processed. I’m good at that. I look at it and step back, wondering if that was his point. A puzzle, something to be thought about. I’m not thinking about anything he might think worthy of thought. She isn’t, other than her body.

  The thought makes me take some pills from my pocket and toss them on the bed next to the outfit, making sure whatever she takes is mine and mine alone. “Only those,” I mutter, stepping away from her.

  I frown again and walk to the door, trying to dampen down the sense of possession in me that wants to stay with her, escort her. She’s nothing but a toy now. Something to play with and enjoy for the small amount of time I have here. Neither of us can afford anything but that because of what we’ve done or are doing. “Find me if you want more. Only take them from me.”

  “Gray?” I turn to look at her. “You’re not waiting for me?” She looks at the bed and straps again. “Or helping me?” I’m not here to help her anymore. I am opposing and opposite now. The one watching and playing rather than the protector I intended at first.

  “No. You’re fine by yourself. Find the maid when you’re done.” I reach for the doorknob and pull it wide, feet edging me out of the room. “She’ll lead you down to the entertainment.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t look back at her either, as I shut the door quietly. We’re not a couple and I’m not leading her anywhere, nor do I have a right to be possessive about her. We are separate. Two souls who’ll find each other later when the need arises. I’ll watch her fuck until then, watch her enjoy her night, and when I’m ready I’ll amuse myself with her again.

  Chapter 7

  Hannah

  E verything seems unusual again, not flowing. I look myself over in the mirror, bewildered by the vision looking back at me. Straps everywhere. It’s like a cage around me covering the red patches on my skin. High heels and then black straps every three inches up my legs heading to more straps around my waist and breasts. More straps around my arms that eventually link into another strap around my neck.

  I grip the gold chain in my hand and flex my fingers around the sensation and visual. Peculiar. Malachi says. But the words don’t resonate like they did. They seem distant now rather than part of me, as if they’re not something to be adhered to.

  Why did I anyway? I don’t even know why I’m here.

  And Gray was so cold. So brutal and cold.

  I turn and stare at the note crumpled on the bed that Malachi sent in the box, pieces of tissue paper discarded around it, and then notice the pills Gray left scattered around. Maybe I need more of those. Maybe it’ll seem less peculiar then, more normal. I pick them up and swallow two, not caring for colours as I put the rest into the bustier of my covering.

  No more thoughts or worries. I don’t care for pain or memories either. We just fucked. Desperate fucking. The other man wasn’t like that. He was polite in some ways. Not Gray, though. Nothing was polite about the way he handled my flesh or took what he wanted from me.

  I walk to the door slowly and swing my head back and forth, letting the high ponytail swish the back of my shoulders. It tickles as it brushes, annoys me, but that’s what the note asked for. Ponytail for a pony girl. I’m not a girl. I sneer slightly and look into the corridor, trying to remember which way is which or where to go. Desperate fucking. I can still feel him inside me, still feel his hands on me and his cock driving in hard.

  I giggle at that and reach for the wall, my feet finding balance on the carpets that lead to the staircase. I remember that. Long and sweeping. Like Gray’s cock. Thick and heavy. Another giggle bursts out of me.

  “Striking,” someone says. I look up and around, searching for the familiarity of the tone.

  Malachi’s coming up the stairs, no shirt on his torso. I stare as he climbs, hand gripping the chain tightly in my fingers. Slow steps towards me. One, two, three. Heavy boots on his feet. Nothing tailored or precise like Gray. Long. Lean.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Am I? I stare blankly, thinking about food. “Yes.”

  “Good. Come and have dinner with me,” he says, holding his hand out.

  Yes. Dinner sounds nice. I take his hand and walk alongside him, using his frame as a counter to my slight sway on the steps. Dinner. I can’t remember eating last. When was that? A glass of wine would be nice. Red. Or white. What does it matter?

  “What are we having for dinner?” I ask, stretching my eyes.

  “You.” Oh.

  I giggle and grip his hand tighter, wondering what that could mean. I don’t think I can eat myself. Maybe I can. Things happen here. Wondrous things. They’re things I want more of, distractions and disturbances from the norm. My nose screws up at the thought of leaving, haunting memories in my mind that I can’t quite place trying to find structure. I shake them off, gripping the chain and tapping my thigh.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  My body tenses in his grip, as he turns us into a dining room. I’ve been here before, remember it vaguely. Five unknown men sit around the large mahogany table, all of them talking and ignoring us. Young men. A few older men. I drift my gaze over each one, unsure what this is or why they’re here.

  The hand holding mine lets go and Malachi’s fingers tug my chin around to look at him. He looks over my face, then neck. “Hmm,” he mutters, letting me go again. “Hungry?”

  I can feel myself curl away from the thought of this room or these men. Something feels different here. Insidious in some way. My smile’s gone. The relaxation I was sinking into – gone. One of them laughs, making me startle and jump backwards. And then suddenly eyes are everywhere, all of them looking at me and laughing. That happened before – veins in faces.

  My throat tightens up at the memory, feet tripping over themselves a little as I keep moving backwards. Must leave. Must run and get away from the monsters.

  “Mrs Tanner?” I jump again, hand reaching for the door frame. “Malachi says sit down.”

  Why would I do that? Not at that table. There’s no freedom there, no fun. They’re still laughing, all of them echoing noise and cackles as if I’m the thing they’re going to destroy.

  I back away another step, and another, and then something’s in my face. Small. Round. Swinging. I shake my head, try to ignore it, but it keeps swinging. Side to side. Side to side.

  Over and over and over …

  “Malachi says sit at that table.”

  Malachi says.

  Images flick through my mind one after another. Something swinging. Small and glinting in the light. Snow and cold. I stare blankly, watching it flick through my vision. Left and right. Right and left. A ball on a chain. Silver. Patterns on it. It’s slowing along with my heartbeat, the noise it’s delivering lessoning to a dull swish. Swish, swish, swish. My hands feel the rhythm as they lay gently on my thigh.

  Tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  “Malachi says sit at the table.”

  “Sit at the table,” mumbles from my lips.

  No noise now. No laughter. I ease forward and sit quietly at a chair he’s pulled out for me, calm settling. I’m perched as I look through the middle of it. No food. Just glasses of wine and half-drunk bottles standing tall by each man. Something touches my lips, something warm.

  “Have another pill.” I smile at that and open my mouth, face turning towards his as he pushes another one inside me. Handsome. Funny. He made me laugh, asked me to spin for him.

  “She’s pretty, Malachi. New toy?” someone says, as I swallow. Toy? My head tilts, eyes looking at the person who spoke the words. He’s older. Greying hair. Attractive, though. Heavy set with a low slung smile sitting on his face. Texan Drawl.

  “I’ve claimed her for now,” Malachi says. My head slowly turns, uns
ure what that means. Claimed? I am not claimed. I am singular. Alone in this wonderland.

  “Fucked it?” someone asks.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought I’d leave that for you, Lucian.”

  Colours flash in my line of sight, a rainbow of them dancing in the light. Pretty chandeliers. I gaze at them, watching the colours dance around the walls from them.

  “She arrived with Gray,” another voice says. Gray.

  “He’s made no claim on her.”

  “And yet there’s a chain on her wrist.”

  “Do you see him attached to it? Free fodder, gentlemen.”

  Fodder.

  I grab at the chain, clamp it in my hand and try to think past this noise around me. Too much noise. All of it harsh and direct, dirty and sordid. Nothing but a piece of meat. Sustenance before the night begins downstairs. Something inside me tenses as the conversation carries on in the same vein, but I don’t seem to be able to move. Nothing works. I want to shout, scream, but I can’t. It happened on the roof. Roof? Snow and cold. I remember it. Malachi was there. Small steps forward when Malachi asked me to, my body unable to deny the order. And now I’m here sitting at a dinner table with no food, listening to his orders again while other people stare.

  I try putting pressure on my legs to push the chair back, try to move away.

  “Sit still,” he says.

  No.

  I don’t like orders. Orders mean being told what to do. No one tells me what to do anymore. Especially not a chorus of men who talk about me as if I’m entertainment for their game. Game? I twist and glare at Malachi, clarity rushing in from somewhere. I’m not a game for him, nor am I game for any of them. I wasn’t a game for Rick either.

  Memories filter through me, flashing like the colours dancing around me now. Good wife. Good little Hannah who put up with all the crap while he fucked other women. Sadness and rage rears up inside me like a haunting melody sweeping over my body and mind. Pricks. We all are. Gray said that. Gray.

  He left me. He was inside me and then he left me alone. The maid. That’s what he said. Find the maid and she’d lead the way to him. More effort and I push and stagger, legs finally hauling me upright. Everything sways. The room, my body, even my skin seems to crawl and ripple. I’m leaving, though. I am. I’m going to find the maid and then find the fun.

  My feet move, fingers reaching for the surfaces and walls to help me out of the door. No fun here. Here is glowers and smiles that mean underhanded reasoning. I shiver from the thought and keep stumbling, mind focused on wherever the maid and Gray are, but I’m suddenly grabbed and spun back, no care for my plan to leave. Furious eyes bore into mine. Malachi’s eyes. I remember them like this. He causes pain in this mood, enjoys the prospect, as he hits and shoves.

  I stand tall and try to fight, nails lashing out at him daring to touch me like that. No more. They meet skin, tearing a line of blood through the rigid line of his jaw.

  “No,” snaps out of me. He lets go immediately, suddenly brightening his face to smile about something. “No, Malachi. No orders.” He carries on smiling, rubbing the blood back and forth and smearing it over his face until eventually he laughs. “No games either,” I mumble. He laughs so loud. Loud enough that I step away from it and glare again. No one laughs at me anymore.

  “As you wish, Mrs Tanner.”

  I turn away from them all and straighten my shoulders, my mind set on finding the maid and my thoughts disgusted by the sound of that name again. “Hannah,” I snap, edging into the hall.

  The maid will lead me to Gray. He said she would, but after a few minutes of trying to concentrate on walking and direction I hear footsteps behind me. I swing my head slowly and keep moving forward, staggering on my heels. The leather straps bite in with every footfall, constricting blood flow as if designed to do so. Uncomfortable. Gray was right. It is. I want naked and free again. I was free with him in the shower. I felt free and alive. Safe and indulgent in my decadence.

  Why is Malachi following me?

  He’s stalking. Moving slowly as if I’m prey in his sights. I laugh and turn from him again, picking up speed as I unclip the buckle near my breastbone to give me more freedom. The top section falls loosely, making me rip the rest of it over my head and throw it sideways.

  Stalking? Hunting me?

  I laugh again and move more swiftly, focus coming with the thoughts rushing through me. Laugh. Run, get away. But I’m not scared now. I’m just running freely, racing my way along corridors in search of a maid and Gray. Down, that’s where I want to go. Down, down, down the rabbit hole I’m running towards. With Gray, though. I need him there. Need him attached to this chain so I can be free and live again.

  A huge door suddenly bars my path forwards, vast columns of wood reaching upwards. I slide to a halt and look left and right, searching for another way. There isn’t anything. Just a corridor with high walls and this door. I spin and glare backwards, waiting for him to reach me. He’s slowed now. Not running, if he ever was.

  I shake my head and stay focused on his movements, ready to fight again if I have to, but his long strides seem relaxed, as if he’s ambling through a country park on a summer’s afternoon and letting the sun rain down on his exposed chest.

  “You didn’t feel inclined to fuck them?” he asks, reaching my side.

  “No.”

  “You should have just said.” My gaze narrows, tension making me second guess what this is. Just said? I did, didn’t I? Tried. Left. Said no.

  My vision swims again, bright lights and the ball swinging in front of me.

  “You did things with a ball and chain,” I mumble.

  “Balls and chains?”

  “Yes. They swung in my face.”

  He laughs again and walks passed me, drawing keys out of his pocket on a long chain. “You really are insane. First veins in my face and now my balls are swinging in your face?” The large door gets unlocked, a creak coming as it widens in front of me, and he pockets the keys again. “Keep going, Mrs Tanner. You’ll eventually get to an elevator. Go down. I’m sure you’ll find Gray somewhere if that’s the path you’re choosing.” I frown at the words and watch him carefully, not trusting him or anything he says. There was a ball. It was in my face, swinging like a pendulum. “Be careful down there. The wolves are out.”

  “You were chasing me.”

  “No I wasn’t. I was following to make sure you didn’t kill yourself.” Kill myself? Why would I do that? He’s so still. Like Gray. So impossibly still. No heaving breaths as if he’s been running. Just his body arresting and a smile. “You’ll know if I chase you, Mrs Tanner. You’ll get caught.”

  I shake my head again, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not, and edge towards the open door. Nothing seems real with him. Or nothing seems real in this place when he’s in it. Downstairs will be better. It was simpler down there. “You’re not coming with me?”

  “No, Mrs Tanner.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  He laughs again, eyes glinting at my rage building, and shoos his hand as if I’m not part of the next few hours. “Go, Mrs Tanner. Before I change my mind and drag you back in there.”

  Go. Yes.

  The door seems to close as I make my way fully through it, his exposed back disappearing from my view as it does, and then I’m in a room of brick and dust. The walls seem to dissolve and groan as I brood in here, trying to calm down. It’s old. Centuries old. I smile weakly and drag my hands over the structure, letting the debris and dust sooth my sweaty palms and order my thoughts. Cold again. Freezing. Silent other than the occasional sounds that seem to grumble and groan.

  I shiver and keep walking, eyes glancing at movement flittering above my head. Icicles hang low from the ceiling. Pointed tips directed at me as if they might fall and kill. Fall and kill? I chuckle and move again, still looking upwards in case they do, and eventually reach a brightly lit area at the end of the tunnel.

/>   One lone steel door stands in the corner of the crumbling cave. Elevator, I assume. More movement above my head. I edge towards it, finger pressing the button, and keep gazing upwards. Monsters? Too quick for monsters. I knock my head with my hand, trying to clear out the flashing colours, and slink into the clean modern walls of metal.

  Buttons? Down. Down and dirty.

  A snort rips out of me, hands resting on the bar surrounding the inside of this space as the cart travels down, and I laugh at the absurdity of everything here. My shoulders roll, breath exhaling slowly to calm me again now Malachi’s gone. Down and dirty, odd, peculiar and strange.

  The doors open again before I’ve finished thinking my thoughts, and stare out into the masses of bodies undulating. Music blares out as before, people laughing and travelling by me. I smile and shimmy out into it, grinning at this atmosphere. Better. Fun and elaborate. Decadent. Much more like it. I sway and giggle, happy to let these colours taunt me into their embrace. Vibrant.

  Full of energy and glee.

  A hand reaches for mine as I move further in, dragging me somewhere. “Come, follow us,” the girl says, giggling. I do, happy to be towed wherever they’re going in this dark room full of luminescent lights strobing around. Blues and greens, reds.

  I look upwards as we move, smiling at the display. The smell creeps into me as much as the music does, drawing me forward into whatever we’re doing. Low, musky. Here is sex and fun, pleasure and relaxation away from Malachi’s sordid games.

  Rooms pass me by, the people in them moaning and groaning under their torment. I want that. I want to moan and groan under my own torment, feel it inside me like it felt when Gray was inside me. The connection. I need it again. Need to feel it deep in my mind and search his eyes as if they’re part of me.

  Chapter 8

  Gray

  T here’s a desperation in me. It’s addling my nerves further than these people around me are, making me gaze into this smoky light with only one intent in mind – fucking Hannah.