Page 23 of Degradation

I bow my head quickly, showing as much respect as I can. My mother does the same before moving to stand beside me so my husband can see me all dressed up and ready for him.

“Chapter Lord.” My mother says proudly. “Your wife is ready and eager for you.”

He glances at my mother before running his eyes over me. As he walks up to us, he mutters something I don’t catch.

He looks calm, far calmer than he was back in the Cathedral. Perhaps he was just nervous too. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with all those eyes watching him and his brutality was a mistake.

I let out a low breath, trying to steady myself. I can do this. I can be this. I just have to smile and be nice and suck his cock and everything else he asks of me.

He reaches out, grabbing my jaw so quickly I don’t have time to react. “I did some damage then?” He growls as he inspects the bruising around my neck like it’s the first time he’s seeing it. Like he didn’t squeeze the oxygen out of my lungs so much I almost died.

“Nothing that won’t heal.” My mother assures him.

He doesn’t even look at her. Doesn’t even react to her words. He just stares at me, stares at my neck, then down to where my breasts are pushed up in this fancy bra. I can’t tell if it’s my cleavage he’s admiring or the burn.

“She’s got good tits.” He mutters. “Let’s see if her nipples are hard already.” I don’t know who he’s talking to, it’s not me, and I doubt from the tone it’s my mother either. But there’s no one else in the room.

He unhooks my bra, pinching my skin slightly as he does it, and, as it falls to the floor, I step back. It’s instinctual and I don’t mean to do it but that clearly annoys him because he quickly wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me back. “Where are you going, wife?” He says. “I want to play.”

“I’m, I’m sorry.” I half-whisper but I barely get the words out before his finger on my lips silences me.

He slides it down, down my chin, down to my chest bone, to my cleavage before he lifts his other hand and starts massaging my breasts.

“Such great tits.” He groans. “I loved the way they responded the first time. They’re so malleable, so soft…”

My cheeks heat. I’m more than aware of the fact my mother is stood here, watching this.

She doesn’t say anything, but she gives me a quick glance then silently heads to the door.

Gunther is still engrossed in his play but as she reaches it, he barks out the words. “You stay.”

My mother instantly freezes. I can see the flash of shock on her face but she’s quick to cover it. To make herself impassive. “As you wish, Chapter Lord.”

He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t acknowledge her words, he just grabs me, pushing me enough that I walk backwards and then my legs hit the bed. He pushes me again and I land on it, bouncing slightly from the force.

My long hair splays about me and he stares at me as if awestruck for a moment.

He reaches up, grabs the thong and yanks it down my legs before tossing it. So much for fancy lingerie then, it was barely on ten minutes.

“Come here.” Gunther says, shouting over his shoulder.

My mother is still stood, pressed against the door and she walks slowly towards us as if trying to assess how best to deal with this situation.

“A mother’s purpose in life in life is to see her children grow up and marry.” Gunther states. “This here, is your crowning moment, Vera. Your daughter has achieved greatness in marrying me and the only day that will beat this, is the day she bears me a son. So you will stay, and you will bear witness to this moment. You will revel in it. You will celebrate just as I celebrate it with my cock.”

My mother bows her head, nodding as if this is all perfectly normal. She comes to a stop right where he’s pointing. Right by the bed, where she’ll have a view of everything.

I can’t look at her. I’m too ashamed, so I focus on him, on my husband, trying to guess what is coming next.

He’s dressed in a shirt, in a suit. He undoes the buttons slowly, never taking his eyes from me as if he’s daring me to move. As he pulls the fabric off, I can see his belly again. I don’t mean to judge, the man is almost sixty so it’s hardly surprising he isn’t a toned adonis but still, he isn’t what I imagined when I shut my eyes at night and prayed for a husband.

My cheeks heat more as the words whisper in my head that I would gladly have taken Antonio over him any day.

When he undoes his belt and drops his trousers, I expect his dick to be hard, I expect it to look like it did back in the Cathedral. Only, it doesn’t. It looks floppy, lopsided. He gives it a grab, running his hand up and down it for a moment as if he’s trying to wake it up.

“Shall we fuck her throat or her cunt?” He whispers.

I don’t know which is worse. The thought of anything down my throat right now after what he did… but the thought of him there, back inside me, I’m still so sore from how he fucked me there too.