Page 18 of Degradation

“No smile for your husband?” He asks.

I blink back, wondering if I’ve messed up already and I give him a shy, bashful smile that seems to make him happy enough that he leans in and kisses me. His lips brush against the fabric of the veil and I gasp more in shock than anything else.

We’re not married yet. We’re not yet husband and wife. I don’t know what the thousands of eyes watching us must think of this breach, but I stare back at him trying to work out if he’s mad or simply drunk?

His eyes sparkle with amusement, it’s as if he’s made some joke, only I don’t understand it. The rules are simple. The rules are there for all of us to abide by. But then, he’s already pissing all over them by marrying me, isn’t he? Not that most of these people sat here are aware of that fact. They know my family are of high status, but they don’t know I’m a Founder. It’s forbidden for them to know.

Gunther takes my arm, leading me to the crucifix and I’m pushed down, laid out on it like I don’t have a choice in the matter. The cold stone sends a shock through me where my upper body makes contact. So much so that I don’t at first register what is happening. That Gunther is yanking up the fabric of my dress, roughly exposing my entire lower half.

I try to stifle a cry, but it comes out anyway, ringing around me loud enough that all those masks closest to us must hear.

A priest kneels between my legs. Gunther is to my left and he’s holding my stomach, placing a hand on me to ensure I’m obedient in this.

The priest pushes my legs apart and I whimper more, shutting my eyes, but I can feel it, I can feel the prodding, the way something pulls at me, at my core, opening me up to the cold air.

I’m being inspected, being examined. I don’t know what they’re expecting to find. Do they really think I wouldn’t be pure? Between my mother and Antonio, I’d never have dared do such a thing, and besides, when would I have had the chance? I don’t leave our house. I’m not even permitted to be in the same room as any man.

The only way I could lose my virginity is if I’d chosen to fuck myself with that wooden thing my mother makes me practice on, and what would be the point to that? Why would I do that? My only value is my maidenhead. I wouldn’t choose to destroy the one thing that gives me worth.

“She is untouched.” The priest states loudly.

My face flames as he says those words. As if everyone here even believed there was a chance I wouldn’t pass this test.

“She is also ovulating.” The priest adds quietly, saying those words low enough that only I and Gunther hear them.

“You’re certain?” Gunther replies quickly.

The priest shrugs slightly. “The signs are there. I’d put money on it and a wedding night baby…”

Gunther’s whole body seems to react to that. “That would show them, that would shut them all up, prove that a Founder is the right choice, that God approves of this marriage, of me…”

I dare to look at him as he continues to ramble. He looks like he wants this more than anything, that a child is the sole motive for this marriage. I bite my lip, worrying more. Is that why he wanted me, my bloodline? But he already has sons, he has children, grown children.

Someone else clears their throat, as if they too are realising that Gunther right now is going completely off script.

He frowns, looking momentarily confused and then he drops his gaze back to me.

“Proceed with the ceremony.” He orders.

Hands grab at me. My limbs are pulled further apart. I’m held down, spread-eagle as the Senate surround us, though now they’re on their knees. That chanting increases to the level where they’re practically shouting, and I want to tell them to shut up. To just shut up. The noise is driving me crazy. The fact that they’re all around us, and that incense is still flooding my lungs.

I let out a cry as someone cuts the palm of my hand and Gunther grabs hold of it, pressing his own bloodied hand into the wound.

“Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust…” I can’t hear. I can only grasp at words.

Gunther is saying something, but I don’t understand one bit of it. He stands there, his hand clasped in mine as he starts delivering a sermon, starts citing one reading after another from our bible.

“Wives submit to their husbands as they do the Lord.” He declares.

I nod as much as I dare. I’m not even sure if this moment here is for me or for the rest of the Brethren. He goes on and on, labouring his point. I’m almost grateful for it, grateful that he’s distracted but he is only putting off the inevitable.

When he finally runs out of steam he stands there, staring, as if daring someone in the audience to stand up and challenge him.

“Chapter Lord?” One of the Senate say after what feels like minutes of awkward silence.

He blinks rapidly, looking around before his eyes land back on me.

I don’t know what to do. Do I smile? Do I hold his gaze? What is the appropriate response?