Page 42 of Degradation

My hands wrap around my stomach as I feel that pang of cramping. I’m lucky that my periods aren’t that bad. Maybe it’s because I’m young but they’re usually light, usually done within a few days.

“Paitlyn?” Kora says as she spots it.

My face drops more. “I, we, we have to hide this.” I gasp.

She frowns, glancing at Ada, the other maid.

“Please. He’ll be angry, furious. I know he will.” I stammer. “We have to hide it.”

“You can’t hide the fact you’re bleeding.” Ada states.

She’s right. On some level she is right. But what if I can get Gunther drunk enough, what if I can pleasure him with my mouth? What if…I have to try. I have to. I don’t want to be beaten for this.

“Get rid of the sheets.” I order. “Burn them if you have to. And I need tampons.”

They both nod and I watch as they frantically pull of the bedspread and the sheets.

“Get in the shower.” Kora instructs. “I’m assuming you can dress yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me.” I say before rushing to the bathroom.

If this works, if I can do this, it’ll be a miracle. I say a silent prayer as I turn the water on.

Come on God, be on my side for a change.

When I get out, the soiled sheets are nowhere to be seen. The bed has been remade and Ada mutters about telling the cleaning crew that Gunther soiled them, so they don’t ask questions.

I shrug back, not giving a shit. It wouldn’t be a stretch to for him to actually defecate all over the bed considering he pissed on me only a few weeks ago.

“Here,” Kora says, passing me a box of tampons. As I take them, she grabs my hand, “These are technically forbidden.” She states. “Make sure they’re well-hidden because if he finds them…”

I nod, hearing the warning. “I’ll hide them as best I can.” I reassure her.

She gives me a tight smile back, one that does not fill me with much confidence, and I make a mental note not to reveal where the hell I got them from if they are found.

I don’t want her, or Kora beaten simply for helping me.

My stomach isin knots and it has nothing to do with my period.

I’m dressed in a silky dress. An almost sheer dress. Awhitedress.

I’m petrified that any minute I’m going to leak out, but I have no way of preventing it. I couldn’t even sneak another tampon for later and it feels like there’s a ticking clock above my head, an alarm ready to go off at any minute.

I’m stood beside Gunther as he sits in what can only be described as the most ridiculously tacky looking throne you could imagine. It’s gold. Real gold. I don’t want to think how many millions of pounds the thing costs. It’s got fancy embellishment around the back and arms to make it look like it’s Greek or Roman or from some equally ancient empire. I doubt it’s real, though it could be. It just looks too polished, to damned gauche to be the genuine article.

Twenty of Gunther’s closest friends and allies lounge about while music plays one jolly tune after another. I don’t know any of them. Not one. My mother was not invited and when I think of my wedding night, I’m pleased that she isn’t here.

All of them are wearing tunics. All of them look like this is some sort of fancy dress party.

In front of us is a long glass table. It’s covered in fruit, and meat, and lobster and every imaginable delicacy. My mouth waters as I look at it all and then I remind myself of whatGunther did, what I saw him do before the guests arrived, before anyone but me and the guards were here to witness it.

The table is low, low enough that people can stretch out on the couches and gorge to their hearts content. Not that they do, there are servants here, all dressed up in tiny little tunics and they’re the ones feeding them, they’re the ones raising their goblets, allowing them to drink and feast.

It feels like an orgy, an orgy for the sense, and a voice in my head is already whispering that soon enough Gunther will turn it into one of the flesh too.

As if on cue, the solid gold doors open. A man comes walking in. His face is hard despite his relatively young age. As he gets closer, I can see the savagery in his eyes. He looks like the sort of man you would not want to meet on a cold night, all alone.

I shudder, dropping my gaze as it feels like literal ice slips through my veins.