Page 46 of Degradation

He bites into one, frowning as if he expected his teeth to be strong enough to break it. Then he tosses the molar like it’s a piece of trash.

“Why is the music not playing?” He asks, looking around. “Why has it stopped?”

God, he really thought we’d all still be partying after witnessing such a spectacle?

The band springs into action, and the sound of something jovial, something so contrary to the scene before us, fills the air.

He looks from one person to another. We’re all just stood here, staring. Unsure what will amuse him and what will piss him off further.

“Dance.” He orders, like it’s obvious and he claps his hands jovially. “Dance.”

A few move instantly, swaying their bodies, obeying him, placating him. He folds his arms, grinning as they do, before he joins in, jumping, leaping like a man possessed.

I gulp, stepping back, stepping away, wondering if I could disappear now and if anyone would truly notice. They all seem so fixated on my dear husband. Right now, he’s like the belle of the ball.

He grabs a slave, flinging the man around, before a few of the guests follow after.

I take a small backwards step, one that feels testing.

I could do it. I could just slip out.If he’s drunk enough, if he’s focused on other amusements, then surely, he’ll forget me?

I’m not nearly far enough away to rouse any suspicion but as my husband comes to a stop, as he stares at me, I feel like everyone here can tell what I was thinking, what I was planning.

“Wife?” He says, in such a tone.

I gulp, freezing.

“Are you not entertained?” He asks.

“I am.” I say quickly. “I was watching you, enjoying your happiness.”

He tilts his head like he knows how much of a lie that statement is.

“I brought all these slaves here, all these guests for you.” He states.

Yeah, who’s the one lying now, huh? We all know none of this is for me. That it’s about his ego, his pleasure, his need to degrade and belittle and prove what power he has over us all.

He narrows his eyes, strutting over to where one of the slaves is stood. It’s the one with that gold monstrosity around his hooha.

I ready myself for another round of abuse, another instance of violence, another moment that will no doubt be forever etched into my retinas and will haunt me when I shut my eyes and try to sleep.

Gunther runs his hand down the man’s chest, touching him in a way that is far more possessive than sensual. When he reaches his gold encrusted penis, he grabs hold of it hard enough that the man winces.

“Such a pretty jewelled cock, wouldn’t you say, wife?” He asks.

I blink back, my mind telling me that this is a trap. It has to be.

“Not as good as yours.” I say.

He smiles, rubbing himself with his spare hand. “My wife loves my cock.” He announces loudly. “She can’t get enough of it.” He states.

The whole room seems to react to that, as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Gunther grins, he grins and he grins, and then yanks on the slave’s cock again. “Suck his. Go on, have a taste. How do you know mine is as good as you say if you’ve nothing to compare it to?”

I want to snap back that he forced enough men’s cocks into my mouth the other week, but I don’t. I just shake my head slightly, knowing exactly where this is headed but doing everything I can think of to avoid it anyway.

“I only want yours.” I reply. “I only need yours.”