Page 33 of Degradation

My heart pounds in my chest as we approach the room.

Gunther opens the door and nudges me inside. The room is lit by a set of lamps, positioned around the room. There’s a bed in the middle. It’s a big bed, with what looks like freshly ironed sheets.

By the far wall is a table with… my eyes look away instantly as I recognise what those things are. Forbidden items. Prohibited things. Things that would get you a beating and more.

Why would he bring me here? Is he planning on using them on me? God, no. I swear my legs start to tremble as my mind races.

And then a figure steps out from the shadows. It’s cigar man. I can just make out his tall, broad shoulders, in the dim light, those bushy eyebrows, that leering smile.

I frown, feeling more confused, more bewildered by what this is. Cigar man reaches up, undoing his tie, loosening the cuffs on his shirt as he stares back at me with a look in his eyes that makes me physically sick.

Something fumbles with my dress, the zipper at the back is dragged down so quickly and I spin around, staring in horror at my husband.

What the fuck is this? What the hell is he doing?

This has to be a mistake. This has to be some kind of sick joke.

Only, Gunther’s voice cuts through my panic.

“Behave, Paitlyn.” he says, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a grotesque parody of tenderness. “Be obedient. Show my friend what a delicious cunt you have, and you’ll get a pretty little diamond in return.”

Horror washes over me, cold and nauseating. This can’t be happening. Gunther can’t possibly expect me to... but the look in his eyes confirms my worst fears.

I shake my head as a silent plea for mercy slips past my lips.

The slap comes hard and fast, the sting of it sharp against my skin. “Stop pretending you aren’t a whore.” Gunther hisses, pushing me back, making me stumble so much I almost fall into those eagerly waiting arms of his disgusting friend.

“It’s a sin…” I stammer. “It’s a sin…”

But he doesn’t wait to hear it. He clearly doesn’t want to. He walks out, shutting the door with a finality that makes my heart sink.

Cigar man approaches me, his eyes roaming over my body with a greediness that makes me want to puke.

“Lie on the bed.” he instructs, his voice devoid of emotion.

I’m so shocked, my body moves on autopilot. I clamber on, trying my best to keep my dress up, as if the fabric is a shield and could protect me in this moment.

This must be a dream, a nightmare from which I’ll soon wake.

But it’s not a dream. The weight of him on top of me is all too real, the roughness of his hands as they tear off my gown.

“Youarea delicacy.” He groans, grabbing my breasts, kneading them with both hands.

“Please.” I gasp as guilt and disgust churn in me with equal measure. “I’m not your wife, I’m not...”

He shoves a hand over my mouth, silencing my words that he clearly doesn’t want to hear.

He lowers his face to my ear, his hot breath making my skin crawl more. “Do you think I don’t know that?” He snarls. “Of course you’re not my wife. My wife is at home, doing her duty, growing fat with my son, my heir…”

I cry out as he digs his fingers in further, as he claws at my flesh.

“…I get to fuck you anyway. Do you get that? I get to do what I want with you for a few hours and if you had any wits at all, you’d make sure I enjoyed myself. You’d wrap that pretty mouth around my cock, and you’d imagine it was your dear husband you were pleasuring, if that eased your conscience.”

I moan back, I gasp under his brutal grip, but it makes no difference whatsoever.

He grabs at my underwear, pulling it aside and I can tell from the fumbling what he’s trying to do.

“No. No, please.” I scream more. I kick out, but I’ve already lost this. I never stood a chance.