Page 51 of Degradation

I can feel it.

Gunther will have another of his ‘episodes’ and he’ll change his mind about who can and can’t stick their cocks into his precious little wife.

And I’ll be first in line. First up. I’ll hold her down, I’ll break her if that’s what it takes, but that bitch will take me, she’ll take all of me, and she’ll be crying for every second of it.

“Whore,” I spit. “Fucking whore.”

I don’t know what this is, this obsession that seems to have worked its way into my head. What do I care what her cunt does and doesn’t do? What do I care about any of it?

She’s nothing to me. I have my orders, I have my family, they’re all that matter, not some pathetic little bitch who can’t even beg properly.

My hands wrap tighter around the girl’s throat, I don’t even know when I put them there, but as I thrust into her, I’m squeezing harder and harder.

Her jerks become more frantic. Her screams turn to mush. I can feel the rapid beat of her heart pumping blood through, trying to stop this, trying to ensure her survival.

I need her dead. I need her gone. That fucking woman, that fucking bitch.

I think I’m chanting it, shouting it, bellowing it, as I force the oxygen, force the life from this woman’s lungs.

I need that girl dead. I need Paitlyn gone.

I come with a roar, I come pushing my cock once more as deeply as I can bury it inside her.

She’s still. Silent.

I don’t know how long she’s been dead, how long I’ve been fucking a corpse, but I don’t care. She was a means to an ends. A type of medicine, necessary to keep the wolves from pounding at my door, from tearing at my insides.

I wince, shaking that thought away.I am not like her. I am nothing like her.

My mother was sick. My mother had reasons.

But she also had voices, the same voices, the same clawing ghosts that reside inside me.

I stare at my hands, wondering what she would say if she could see me now. What she would do. She always hated this place, she hated this legacy, our legacy. The Blake’s. This was our inheritance, our prize, our chattel and our purpose.

She hated it all, almost as much as she hated our father in the end.

I take a deep breath, and that stench of fear and decay fills my nostrils. My heart feels almost calm now, my head feels normal,Ifeel normal.

I don’t bother to untie the girl; I leave her hanging there. Leave her like a tombstone.

The guards can find her later, they can deal with her. Her skin can be boiled, her skull can be extracted, and she’ll go up on display, be another corner piece along with the thousands of other skulls.

As I emerge from the room, I find Magnus leaning against the opposite wall, his arms are crossed over his chest, and I can tell he’s not here for his own amusement.

He looks at me with that infuriating smirk, as if he can peer into the depths of my soul and pluck out my darkest secrets. Like he doesn’t know every single one of them already.

“Brother,” he greets me. “I trust the evening’s entertainment was to your satisfaction?”

I glare at him, my hand still tingling from the whip’s bite. “What do you want, Magnus?” I growl, eager to be rid of his presence.

He pushes off the wall, glancing in to where the body is still hanging. For a second, he frowns, as it hits him what wenton inside those four walls. “You know you’re not meant to kill them.” He says.

I shrug. Like I give a fuck in this moment what I am and am not meant to do.

He narrows his eyes, grabbing the scruff of my shirt like he can intimidate me. “The price is for their virginity, not their life.” He states like I don’t know that fact.

I brush him off, brush him aside. Did he really come here to talk about money of all things? “So, charge me.” I mutter.