Page 22 of Degradation

I blink in confusion, what about anything that happened today could be considered good?

“I, I want to go home.” I whisper. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere near that man.

“Ssssh,” she says again, “you’re just wound up. You’re going to be fine. Besides, he’s your husband now, you’re Chapter Lady, you can’t just leave.” She chuckles before fixing me with that piercing gaze. “Let’s get you fixed up, get you pretty again.”

She takes my hand, leading me up out of the bed. I don’t know who did it, but I’ve been dressed in some sort of nighty.

My mother undoes my hair, slowly eases out the knots and brushes it while I sit there, at the vanity, staring. Across my chest there’s a strange square mark that looks like it could be a burn. My neck is so bruised my flesh is practically black. It’s mottled with my blood.

He did that. My husband.

“I, I can’t do this…” I begin and she immediately stops, fixing me a look in the mirror.

“Paitlyn, don’t be ridiculous. This is your destiny. This is why you were born. You were meant to marry Gunther. You were meant to be given this power…”

“Power?” I half gasp-half sob. What power do I have? I gulp and that searing pain shoots down my throat reminding me of what he did, how he strangled me. I can still feel his hands there, I can still feel them pushing against my throat, squeezing the very life out of me.

“He’s old. He’s a man. He’s easy to manipulate.” She states, grabbing my chin. “You just need to be smart about it. He chose you because he wants you. Use that. Make the man fall in love with you, wrap him around your finger and he’ll do whatever you want, treat you however you want. Men think with their cocks, not their heads. You need to ensure that every day all he can focus on is how much pleasure you alone can give him and in return, he’ll be putty in your hands.”

I chew my lip, hearing the logic in her words. I just don’t know if I can do that. If I have the skills to do that, despite all the years of training my mother has given me.

She starts brushing my hair again, before walking over to the closet and she pulls out a hanger, holding it up for me to see.

It’s lingerie. I gulp as I stare at the pretty white lace set. It’s sexy, sensual, the perfect thing for a bride’s first night with her new husband.

“Put this on.” She orders. “Make yourself pretty for him.”

I get up, seeing the uselessness in disobeying. I don’t bother to turn or hide myself. My mother has seen me naked enough times for me not to be embarrassed by it. I toss the nighty, putting the thong on first. It comes up between my arse cheeks in a way that’s uncomfortable. I’ve never worn one before, it was made clear to me that items like this are for married women only. Married women and whores. I guess I should feel honoured that I’m finally graduating to this. I’m not sure honoured is the word I’d use right now to describe myself.

My mother holds the bra out, shaking it slightly to pull me out of my head. I give her a smile, and put it on, adjusting the straps. It’s itchy, just a little around my nipples but I keep that complaint to myself.

That strange mark on my breast makes me pause and I brush my fingers over it, confirming that this is what it is, it is a burn. When did that happen? Was that after I passed out?

“You look stunning, Paitlyn.” My mother says so proudly. “Gunther won’t be able to keep his eyes, or his hands off you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” I stupidly mumble, dropping my hands to my sides.

She tsks, cupping my chin and making me look at her. “He will adore you, Paitlyn. Any man would. Even without your bloodline, you’re perfection, we made sure of that. And once you give him sons, he’ll love you even more.”

Sons. Children. The thought of being pregnant scares the shit out of me. Especially when I know that all Chapter Ladies have to give birth in the Cathedral, in front of those same baying eyes. I can’t imagine anything more shameful than lying there, having all my bits exposed while I push out a child and probably shit myself in the process.

No, I can, having Gunther fuck me the way he did and then almost murder me. That is more shameful. Far more shameful.

My stomach churns, another flashback of his hands hits me, and I wince as I swallow a wave of bile.

“Be confident, Paitlyn.” My mother instructs. “Men don’t want shy little girls. They want women who enjoy sex, who enjoy their husbands. If you can’t find pleasure in it at first, then fake it, moan and writhe and do everything I taught you…”

I nod back, remembering the moves, remembering the videos she made me watch too. Those types are strictly forbidden so she had to ensure Antonio never found out about them, but I am grateful that I’m not going into this completely blind. My mother took care of me, brought me up to ensure I had all the skillset to be the perfect fuckable wife, so why do I feel so horribly out of my depth now?

I hear footsteps. We both do. I can’t help but tense as I realise whoever it is, is heading in this direction, to this room.

My heart slams into my chest and I know I’m already trembling.

“Momma?” I half-whisper.

She gives me her biggest fakest smile. “You’ve got this. You know you have. Make your husband happy, do whatever he asks and you, my girl, will have the world.”

The door opens before I can reply. My eyes dart to it and my stomach drops even further when I see that it is him, it is my husband.