Page 34 of Degradation

He shoves himself into me, jerking his hips with a snarl of satisfaction.

“Fuck…” He gasps. “You really do have a magic cunt, don’t you?”

My tears are streaming. My mind is broken, shattered. I can’t do anything but just lie here and take it as this man forces himself, as he rapes me.

It hurts. It hurts almost as much as when Gunther is forcing himself on me. I can feel my insides tearing, can feel my inner muscles ripping which each brutal thrust.

He’s not as rabid, not as big a weight as my husband. I guess I should feel grateful for that. That he’s not smothering me with his body while he rapes me. That my very oxygen isn’t being forced from my lungs, only, I can smell him, I can taste him. I can feel his odour lingering on me as he bucks away.

He tuts, coming to a stop, glaring at me.

“Tears aren’t fucking sexy.” He snarls, as if I’m the arsehole here.

But I won’t stop. I can’t stop.

I can’t do anything but continue crying uncontrollably as I realise that in so many ways, this man has damned me, my husband too has damned me. Adultery is a sin. It’s one of the worst sins a person can commit.

I don’t want to go to Oblivion. I don’t want to go to hell either.

But now I know that’s exactly where I’m headed.

He lets out a snarl, flipping me over onto my front and buries my face into the pillow like he’s trying to pretend I’m not hating every moment of this. And then he’s fucking away, using me once more before he suddenly snarls and pulls himself out.

“Fucking bitch.” He spits, slapping my arse hard enough to make me scream. “Stupid fucking bitch.”

The door opens. I’m still laying here, still in the position this man forced me into as my dear husband waltzes in and comes to a stop.

“Well?” He asks.

His friend scowls. “She does have a nice cunt, I’ll give her that, but she’s such a whiney bitch, I’ve lost my appetite.”

Gunther narrows his eyes, turning them on me. “She disappointed you?” He says in a tone that tells me I’m in so much trouble now.

“Bitch wouldn’t stop crying.” His friend sneers. “If I wanted that, I could have just fucked my own wife.”

Gunther’s rage is instantaneous. He lunges at me, his hands like iron shackles around my hair as he wrenches me off the bed and onto the marble floor. “You dare to displease my friend?” he roars, his spittle landing on my face. “You are nothing but a vessel for my amusement, do you understand?”

I can’t hold back the words, fuelled by a mixture of both shame and defiance. “It’s a sin to be with anyone but my husband.” I state. It’s the only defence I have, the only leg I have to stand on.

Gunther laughs in my face and it’s full of malice. Full of contempt. “I make the rules,” he declares, his voice booming as he points his fat finger right into my face. “I decide what is and is not a sin.”

“You’re not God.” I snap back. “And you can’t override his laws, no matter how much power you think you have.”

It’s a stupid thing to say. A stupid, foolish, idiotic statement and I know I’m going to pay for it the minute those words leave my lips.

His beady little eyes widen so much, his fury seems to explode out of him.

He starts spitting insults, calling me a whore and a heretic, as he drags me out, as he drags me past room after room.

I kick and scream, my nails clawing at the marble floor, but it’s useless. Gunther is stronger, he will always be stronger.

“I’ll show you what I can and can’t do.” He bellows. “I’ll show you who is the God in this house, in this entire fucking land.”

Devin

Cigarette smoke fills the air. I take another swig of my beer, holding my cards close, watching as the four men around me do the same.

We’re off duty. The night shift has taken over and while I could leave the compound, most days it’s easier to stay. Besides, these men here are like my brothers, as good as brothers as my real ones. Perhaps even better because they don’t know my past, my history and then don’t keep bringing it up, giving me side-eyes when they think I’m not looking.