Sins And Chastity

Marked For Sin

MARNI

My alarm goes off in the morning as birds chirp in the distance. Opening my eyes slowly, I adjust to the bright light shining through the opened curtains fluttering in the breeze, sitting up to stretch my arms over my head.

And then I see the time on the screen of my phone. 6:55 AM.

Shit. I’m late!

How did this happen?!

It’s the first day of the last semester of senior year, and I’m late. For the first time ever. What are the odds? Seriously.

I’m quick to hop out of bed, tossing the grey quilt off my body and scrambling to get ready. There’s a note on my desk. A boho-styled mint green dress is draped over the computer chair, printed with small flowers scattered all over. It’s long in length, with ruching at the waist, a square neckline, flouncy bell short sleeves, and a slit in the thigh.

It’s absolutely beautiful, and not anything I would normally wear because I’m usually so self-aware of the things I wear to school just to avoid being seen and looked at. Not today, though. I smile and pick up the letter, seeing my mother’s handwriting.

Marni,

I’m so upset that I couldn’t be there to wish you well on your first day of the final weeks of school. I picked this up on my business trip because I just knew that it would look amazing on you. Yes, I know that you don’t like to wear dresses or skirts to school, but I just couldn’t help myself. I hope you’ll wear it. Have the best day ever.

Love, Mom!

The start of a fresh semester is also the mark of the brand new me; Marni 2.0, so of course I’m going to wear it. I’m going to wear this dress today and then tomorrow, I’m going to wear one of my favorite band shirts, which is something I haven’t done before. This new Marni gives no f***s. This new Marni is going to enjoy the last weeks of school, everyone, and everything else be damned.

Mind made up, I quickly strip out of my clothes and pull the polyester over my head, fixing the neckline and adjusting my breasts properly. The slit at the thigh is higher than I’m comfortable with, but I find that it doesn’t reveal as much as I initially thought when I do a test walk. I carefully check myself over in the floor-length mirror, twisting a little bit to make the flowy bottom of the dress flair out.

In the bathroom, I pull my chestnut hair up into a high ponytail, brush my teeth, and apply deodorant and perfume. My lips have a natural flush to them, cherry pink, so there’s never a need to wear lipstick, but I feel like applying a shimmery gloss before I walk out.

I gather up my book bag on the floor at the foot of my bed, toss it over my shoulder, and grab my cell phone from the nightstand. Posing quickly, I snap a smiling picture of me in the dress to model it and then send it off to Mom before making my way downstairs.

I arrive at school just as the busses are leaving the circle, scrambling through the doors as a few other last-minute students trickle inside, darting right to the office to get a late slip.

Late slip in hand, I make my way through the halls to my first class. English.

I reach the door and discover that it’s locked, a muffled voice lecturing on the other side. And of course, it’s locked because, apparently, just being late to class isn’t embarrassing enough. The teachers want you to have to embarrass yourself even further when you have to interrupt the class to be let in.

I know the door is locked for safety reasons, of course, but right now, it just feels like the universe is laughing at me. But this is New Marni, and New Marni can handle it. She can handle anything.

Huffing out my frustration, I raise my hand to knock on the glossy wood.

The old balding man teaching the class looks over and sees me standing there through the window. He mutters something and then begins walking to the door. “Ah, Marni Rose, how nice of you to join us.” He swings it wide open and says, allowing me admittance, “This isn’t a good way to start the last quarter. “

I step inside the classroom and duck my head as I make my way through the throng of desks towards mine in the second row, closest to the window, feeling my pulse climb higher when Jethro Winters— leader of the four deadly Sins—locks his bright blue attention on me, following my every step from the back of the room, a wild smirk curving his lips.

He’s the epitome of the teenage fantasy come true, tall and lean and carved by the physical demands of the sports he plays, with perfect blond hair and soul-stealing blue eyes.

I try to ignore him. I try to look away... but I can’t. His eyes are mesmerizing and compelling even as I cross the floor.

Once I’m seated and pulling out my notebook, a few seconds pass by before a chair slides across the floor as Jethro vacates his spot.

Another second passes, and then I feel a body plop down in the desk behind me, and I gulp because I know that Jethro has just sat down, his Nike-sneakered feet appearing on the floor on both sides of me when he extends his long legs, his rich cologne wafting out to suffocate me in its expensive embrace.

I haven’t been this close to Jethro since we were lab partners during Freshman year, and I thought that was difficult. But this is worse. He's so much older now, bigger and intimidating. It’s nearly impossible not to falter already.

“Hello, Marni Rose. I’ve been waiting for you.” Jethro says as he scooches closer until the front of his desk kisses the back of my seat. His voice is deep and rich, sandpapery and smooth, and it makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Waiting for me?

Shit.

I freeze momentarily.

I don’t know what to do.

But I know that I can’t ignore him. It’ll only make it worse for me.

“Hi,” I whisper. Loud enough so only he can hear me, even though the whole room of students is now watching us as the teacher writes on the whiteboard. They all know what being chased by Jethro means. They knew something was up the second he followed me over here.

There’s more movement from behind me as he gets even closer, his cool, minty breath caressing my neck, followed by a hard yank on my long ponytail to get my attention.

A gasp gets caught In my throat because it f*****g hurts. But I bite it back. He wants me to react. He wants to know that he’s hurt me. And I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Did you hear what happened at the party over the weekend?” He asks, his voice indicating nothing good for me as he traces his finger down the back of my neck like I'm his to touch. I stifle a gasp as prickles attack my spine, but I don't answer him, not yet, because I know he's just getting started. And I don't know what he's talking about, anyway, because I don't know what happened at the party. I didn't even know there was a party. Leaning closer, he continues, “Apparently, King and Damon double-teamed Dina Evans on Saturday night at the same time Jessica Stone gave it up to one of the guys on the football team.”

Double team. Not tag team. That means they both—

“Two?” I breathe, astonished, and completely out of my league. And I know I should be focusing on the most important part of the statement, the threatening part, the part that means bad news for me, but hearing that Dina was with two Sins for her first time takes me by surprise and kind of rocks my world. I can’t imagine having s*x with one Sin, let alone two—and certainly not while losing my virginity. Was she scared? Nervous? Did it hurt worse than she expected? How did it even happen? Did she want to do it? Did they approach her, or did she seek them out? She must have been really special to have attracted the eyes of both Wrath and Lust. That’s a big notch on their belts. I wonder if she's still in pain. She has to be. “They both—“ I fail to talk through the sudden lump in my throat before he cuts me off. I can't picture it, can't fathom the idea of having two p*****s inside me like that.

I'd heard the rumors about Kingston and Damon sharing girls before, but I didn't think they'd ever share a virgin. I didn’t think they would be able to get one to agree to it. I mean, what makes an inexperienced girl want to do something like that?

“That’s right.” He chuckles, amused by my sheepish response, “Dina gave it up to two Sins—at the same time. They shared her. Defiled her. She went from innocent, lowly virgin to debased real quick. Wanted more, too, from what I’ve been told. Begged for another round—which she was denied, of course. "

Well, that last part isn't a surprise because the Sins don’t go back for seconds. They don’t use virgins a second time. They swipe v-cards and move on, tossing them away like trash to begin the pursuit for the next willing victim.

Sure, they have a group of girls they occasionally party with, which comes with s*x, I suppose. But not Virgins. They don’t stick around after they get what they want from the pure. In fact, in the four years I've gone to this school, the Sins have never revisited a virgin they’ve deflowered.

Ever.

"How did they—" I stutter without thinking and regret the words as soon as I hear Jethro snicker again.

"Exactly how you think they did it, Marni..." He leans up to whisper in my ear, and my body stills when I feel his minty breath aginst my skin again, goosebumps popping all down the side of me as he laughs deeper, delighted by my blatant lack of experience. "One f****d her tight little cunt while the other f****d her in the ass."

I knew the Sins were vile, so the vulgarity in his statement shouldn't catch me off guard. But it does. Because he purposely makes it sound like a threat, almost as if he's seeking a special type of reaction from me, like he's curious to see how I counter him. If I can counter him at all.

And I can't... because the calculated threat makes my thighs press together as if I've just been promised something.

And there is no counter for that.

“So... that makes two popped cherries...”He continues, his feet bouncing against the floor as though he’s all too happy to spill the beans. There’s no hiding the excited smirk in his voice as he says it. “Which makes you...”

I don’t even need to hear him say it.

Because I know.

I knew it the second I saw him sitting there.

It makes me the last virgin of the senior class. 

But how? How is that possible? Just last Friday Jessica was promising to stay celibate until college. And Dina was the last girl I would have expected to fall under the spell of one of the sins—but two of them at the same time? What the hell changed over spring break? What changed their minds so fast?

Don't get me wrong, the Sins are infuriatingly hot and charming, sure. But they're not capable of changing a person and warping her entire mindset after one interaction, are they?

They can't be.

No one is.

“The. Last. Virgin. Of. The. Senior. Class.” He underlines every word by pulling on my ponytail— and pulling me out of my thoughts—without bothering to hide his delight. But he doesn’t do it like an elementary kid might with a crush. He does it to inflict pain, assert dominance, and amuse himself like the twisted sadist he is.

“No...” The word slips out before I can stop it.

“No?” He repeats like he misheard me, “Are you not a virgin, then?”

I could lie. But what good would that do me? He’d stand up and poll the class just to prove me wrong. And then he’d punish me. They’d all punish me. I haven’t seen it happen because I avoid the cafeteria to hide from them but I’ve heard it’s the place they like to dish out their punishments. It’s also where Kingston Scott does his beatdowns and where Damon sells his weed to the other stoners.

“No. I’m not saying that.” I shake my head, feeling my belly flutter with unease. “But how do you know I’m the last one?”

He shrugs, “Guys talk. Especially guys on the football team. And King and Damon are my best friends.”

Yeah, I know. Everyone knows. All four of the remaining sins grew up together. Their fathers grew up together.

“How did you manage to sneak by us for so long?” His rough voice is at my ear, his finger sliding down the nape of my neck again as he ponders outloud, sending a trail of fresh goosebumps right down my spine that I can’t control. “More importantly, how are you even still a virgin? How have you not been f****d already? Because with looks like that you absolutely should have been by now. And rumor has it that you’ve never even been kissed before.”

I swallow the nervous lump in my throat and my eyes flutter closed. That last part isn’t true. I’ve been kissed. I’ve just never been french kissed before. “I’ve been kissed.”

“Yeah? So you’ve had a tongue in that pretty mouth?” He hisses, then wraps my ponytail around his hand to pull my head back and inspect me, his gaze dropping to my quivering lips. I want to tell him to let me go, but he would enjoy that. He wants me to play his game. He wants me to challenge him. “I love the dress, by the way.” He adds, raking me over with greedy eyes that make me wish I’d chosen anything else to wear. Goddamn new Marni and her recklessness. I am never wearing another dress again in my entire life. “It’ll be very easy to work with. Did you dress up just for me, pretty girl?”

Work with? “No,” I admit in defeat to both speculations, a little bit embarrassed now that I’ve said it out loud. An eighteen-year-old who’s never even truly been to first base. What are the chances of finding one of those walking the halls of Blueridge High? One in one-hundred-seventy-one if you’re polling the senior class.

Did he say pretty girl? 

“Well then, you haven’t been kissed before. Not properly. Pecks don’t count, little rose.”

Little rose? “I’m not little anything,” I say, even when I know I shouldn’t.

“No, I suppose you’re not with a body like yours. So again I ask, how in the f**k did you evade us all for four goddamn years, Marni Rose?” There’s a bite of frustration in his voice now as he clutches my hair tighter and contemplates the fact that I’d successfully thwarted them for so long, my chest blooming with heat when his attention darts to my heaving breasts as my breathing skyrockets. "How did you almost escape Scott free and un-f****d?"

What am I supposed to say to something like that? I don’t know, so I keep my mouth closed. But something rolls in my stomach and I feel a twinge from down below, because let’s face it, a girl who’s been deemed attractive by a guy in school is always going to swoon a little, if only for the simple fact that she’s got validation of her looks. Even if the words come from one of the Sins’ gorgeous poisonous mouths. It’s human nature. A natural response. Completely uncontrollable.

And I’ll list every excuse in the book before I admit the real reason why Jethro is affecting me like this.

“Actually, you know what? f**k it. It doesn’t even matter how you lasted this long, because as of right now, you’ve officially been marked for sin. You belong to us until we say that you don’t.”

“It’s the first day of the last semester,” I mutter, struggling against the burn in my scalp from his brutal grip.

Four years dreading these very words, and now that I’m hearing them and feeling the weight that they bring, that is what I muster up in defense. I’d shake my head in disappointment if he didn’t have such a tight hold of my hair.

Which one have I caught the attention of, anyway? By the way, Jethro is acting right now, it seems like he’s the one I’ve drawn in. After all, he’s the one marking me. He’s the one making an obvious and bold claim. In front of the entire class.

“So? That still gives us plenty of time to—“

Us? Do two of them plan to double-team me too? 

“Mr. Winters, is there something you want to share with the rest of the class, or can I teach?” The teacher—noticing Jethro’s attention is elsewhere—turns away from the whiteboard to call him out.

“You’re good, Mr. Tate.” Jethro answers, bored and a little angry to be interrupted.

“If that’s so, then release Miss Rose and put your desk back where it was before you sat down.”

“Whatever you say, Teach,” Jethro unwraps my hair from his hand, but only so he can grip the end of my ponytail with both hands and tug it tightly to readjust the band in it. A last-ditch effort to assert his dominance and inflict pain like the bastard he is. “You’re the boss, after all.”

This time, I gasp and my hands shoot up to my hair because it stings so f*****g bad, and I don’t miss the dark, satisfied chuckle that comes from behind me as he shifts the desk back in place against the floor.

“Actually, I’m not even supposed to be in this class.” He stands up, stretching long and wide, pegging me with a devilish grin as he passes by. “So, I think I’ll be going now.” He salutes Mr. Tate and then strolls by him.

Mr. Tate stares dumbfoundedly for only a moment as Jethro exits the door before going right back to the lesson like nothing even happened, driving home the fact that the Sins really do have the slack to do whatever the hell they want to around here.

So Jethro put himself in my class just to torment me?

Of course he did.

What an asshole.