Page 81 of Degradation

He yanks my thighs, yanks my body up and to my horror, he drops his mouth right to the centre of it. I don’t know what to think, what to feel, how to even tolerate the abuse he’s delving out because in this moment, it doesn’t feel like abuse, it feels incredible. It feels too good.

I hate it. I hate that he’s doing this, touching me like this, making me feelthis.

The swipes of his tongue makes me feel giddy, make me feel like I’m hallucinating, that I’ve somehow drifted off into an alternate universe where people are good and kind, and things such as pain don’t exist.

He pushes it deep into me and I swear my eyes roll back in my head.

I can’t do this. I can’t. I need him to stop. I need this all to stop. I think I’d rather take the pain, take his brutality than have to face the knowledge that he’s making me feel this, making me do this, making my body betray me in the worst possible of ways.

He pulls off, staring up at me with that devilish grin that tells me he knows exactly what he’s up to.

“Bastard.” I spit, hoping he hears all the venom in my voice right now.

He doesn’t say anything back, he just moves his fingers to start finger fucking me before he returns his lips to devouring my clit.

With horror, I realise I’m grinding against him. Encouraging him.

Another orgasm is peaking and this one feels so much more than the previous. It feels more weighted, more intense and far more fucking shameful. I whimper, shaking my head, trying to tell myself that this is wrong, that all of this is wrong but it’s too late, far too fucking late.

I topple over, I combust, I let out a wail that feels far more agony than it does pleasure, and just as I do, Devin’s teeth snap around my clit, they clamp down on it, twisting, biting, and the brief moment of pleasure turns to the most excruciating agony.

He drops my legs, drops my body like I’m a piece of trash and then he gets up, stalks over to grab something else before returning.

I’m exhausted, drained, both emotionally and physically. I half wish I could just pass out, that he could just knock me unconscious, beat me hard around the head and spare me the rest of whatever he has planned.

“Five.” He states. “Five orgasms. You’ve come tonight more times than I bet you have the entire time you’ve been married.”

“Fuck you.”

I slam a foot into his face, at least I try to. He’s quick to react, quick to grab my ankle and twist my leg until I think he might make my bone snap, and I cry out, screaming my submission.

“That’s not how a lady behaves.” He states, like he has any idea about it. Like he’s ever been around decent human beings. He’s probably spent his entire life holed up in Oblivion, with the worst dredges of society.

He leans down over me, sweeping my hair from my face. “Such a pretty whore.” He murmurs.

He grabs my left ankle, yanking it as wide as he can before he ties it off. I jerk out, trying to get myself free, but he’s quick to grab my right and repeat the same so that I’m completely spreadeagled now. Completely helpless.

“Nice and tight.” He says, checking it like there’s any way I could get myself free.

“Please…” I gasp. I just want this to end. I need this to end. I physically can’t take anymore of this.

He tuts, as though my words are an annoyance but when he produces the knife my please turn to something far louder, far more panicked.

“Please,” I scream out, “Please, don’t, don’t…”

He backhands me hard enough that he knocks me out for a few seconds. When I come back round, he’s on me, straddling me, and that knife is far too fucking close.

I feel dazed, I feel lightheaded. My breath hitches, my heart thumps louder and louder as he drags the flat side over my skin. I don’t dare move, and I know it’s the reaction he wants, and yet, what else can I do?

As he twists the thing, I can feel it literally slicing me up, slicing me open.

I scream, trying to move away, but the restraints hold firm and there’s nothing I can do but simply lay here and take it.

He watches me as if he’s almost bored by this and I want to kick him so hard in the face.

He then lowers his mouth, tracing the stream of blood, smearing it with his tongue.

“Fucking delicious.” He mutters.