Page 17 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t acknowledge her words, he just grabs me, pushing me enough that I walk backwards and then my legs hit the bed. He pushes me again and I land on it, bouncing slightly from the force.

My long hair splays about me and he stares at me as if awestruck for a moment.

He reaches up, grabs the thong and yanks it down my legs before tossing it. So much for fancy lingerie then, it was barely on ten minutes.

“Come here.” Gunther says, shouting over his shoulder.

My mother is still stood, pressed against the door and she walks slowly towards us as if trying to assess how best to deal with this situation.

“A mother’s purpose in life in life is to see her children grow up and marry.

” Gunther states. “This here, is your crowning moment, Vera. Your daughter has achieved greatness in marrying me and the only day that will beat this, is the day she bears me a son. So you will stay, and you will bear witness to this moment. You will revel in it. You will celebrate just as I celebrate it with my cock.”

My mother bows her head, nodding as if this is all perfectly normal. She comes to a stop right where he’s pointing. Right by the bed, where she’ll have a view of everything.

I can’t look at her. I’m too ashamed, so I focus on him, on my husband, trying to guess what is coming next.

He’s dressed in a shirt, in a suit. He undoes the buttons slowly, never taking his eyes from me as if he’s daring me to move.

As he pulls the fabric off, I can see his belly again.

I don’t mean to judge, the man is almost sixty so it’s hardly surprising he isn’t a toned adonis but still, he isn’t what I imagined when I shut my eyes at night and prayed for a husband.

My cheeks heat more as the words whisper in my head that I would gladly have taken Antonio over him any day.

When he undoes his belt and drops his trousers, I expect his dick to be hard, I expect it to look like it did back in the Cathedral. Only, it doesn’t. It looks floppy, lopsided. He gives it a grab, running his hand up and down it for a moment as if he’s trying to wake it up.

“Shall we fuck her throat or her cunt?” He whispers.

I don’t know which is worse. The thought of anything down my throat right now after what he did… but the thought of him there, back inside me, I’m still so sore from how he fucked me there too.

I want to ask him to wait. I want to ask him to let me have just this night to recover, but that didn’t go well last time, did it?

I fumble my hands together, bringing them up over my breasts.

I don’t even realise I’m doing it until Gunther glares at me.

Does he think this is some sort of protest?

Some attempt to disobey him? I’m quick to drop them, quick to lie still but the damage is done. I can see that. I’ve fucked up again.

Gunther clicks his fingers, “Come here, hold her arms. Hold her still.” He orders as if my mother were a slave.

Noooo. I want to scream it, but I don’t dare.

I just lie there, mute, paralysed by fear or shame or all the other emotions that are swirling inside me. My mother clambers onto the bed by the pillows, following the further orders my husband is now barking out.

She takes my hands, holding me so my arms are now up above my head.

Gunther grabs my thighs pushing my legs wide enough apart that he can lay between them.

I can’t look at him. I can’t look at either of them so I stare up at the ceiling, at that pure white ceiling, praying that this will be over, that all of this will just be done, and I never have to remember how this night ended.

I flinch as he drags a finger down between my labia.

“You look sore,” He comments, as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it.

“New brides are always sore.” My mother says.

Gunther glares up at her, “Be quiet.” He snaps. “If I want you to speak, I will ask for it.”

I tense more, hearing the anger in his voice. Is he going to hurt me more? Oh god, he is, isn’t he. A tear slips down my cheek and I don’t dare move, don’t even try to hide it for fear he will turn that anger onto me.

“I was brutal with you earlier,” He states, “I had to be, I had to make a point.”

I don’t know how to respond, I don’t know what to say, if I’m even allowed to speak. What point did he have to make that would justify what he did?

“Do you want me to be gentle with you now?” He asks sounding suddenly so sincere.

I nod quickly. I don’t know what he means by gentle but I sure as hell don’t want the same treatment he gave me back in the Cathedral.

He blinks, staring at me a moment longer and then he pushes something into me. I bite my tongue, bite down the cry as I realise it’s his finger. He slides a second inside and the pain increases as it feels like he’s trying to feel my insides, feel all the damage he did.

“Does this hurt?” He asks.

“A, a little,” I whisper. I don’t want to admit that it hurts like hell. I don’t want to piss him off more.

He grunts, pushing deeper, stretching me in a way that feels like literal torture. More tears start to stream from my eyes. I clench my fists, forcing myself to be still. Maybe this is a test, maybe this is just another ritual that I need to endure and then afterwards it will all be okay.

“Such a tight cunt,” He comments but not to me, not to my mother either, he says it so quietly, as if he’s talking to himself.

He forces another finger in, a third, and I yelp.

If this is gentle, I don’t want to think about what would not be.

He starts thrusts, sliding his fingers in and out, only it doesn’t feel like sliding at all.

I’m not wet, I’m not in the slightest bit aroused by this and it feels like he’s sanding away my flesh, wearing it down from how much burning there is.

“Please,” I gasp, my voice shaking.

He looks up at me, that same glint in his eye that he had back in the cathedral.

“You are here to be used, wife. To be enjoyed as I see fit. That is your purpose. That is your reason for existence. It doesn’t matter if you want me to be gentle, it doesn’t matter what you want.

Your wants mean nothing to me. You as a person mean nothing.

You are a vessel, a cunt to fuck and womb to fill, do you understand? ”

I nod, I nod so quickly but it’s not enough. I can see it, I can feel it from the way he’s now brutalising me with his hand.

He pulls out suddenly, giving me a moment of reprieve and then he’s getting onto his knees, pulling my legs up, angling my body and I can see his cock, I can see how red it is, how hard it is now.

Was it the pain that got him off? Was that what he needed to get excited?

He meets my gaze as his hand takes hold of it and he shoves himself into me, shoves himself all the way.

I scream again. I scream so loudly. Searing pain burns my insides as he works his cock in as deep as it’ll go. My mother tries to soothe me, but it feels like a repeat of the Cathedral. Nothing about this feels normal.

He starts grunting, bucking, fucking me as my mother holds my hands. But I can feel from the way she’s squeezing that she’s trying to send me a message. Only, I don’t know what it is. Is she telling me to relax? Is she trying to comfort me? Or is she just as angry and ashamed by this as I feel?

“Wives are to obey.” Gunther states. “Wives are nothing but a cunt to fuck.” He sounds deranged, he sounds like he’s about to start breaking out into a tirade. “Say it.” He orders. “Say it.”

“Wa, wives are to obey.” I say quickly.

He snarls, shaking his head, plunging his dick so hard into me I shriek again. “Both of you, both of you say it. You’re a cunt to fuck.”

“I’m a cunt to fuck.” I say just as my mother half stammers on the words.

“Louder.” He spits, and his saliva actually lands on me, on my chest, on my breasts as if he did it on purpose. “You’re nothing but a cunt to fuck.”

“I’m nothing but a cunt to fuck.” I repeat, just as my mother does.

“Again.” He orders.

What will he do if I refuse? Will he beat me? Will he beat my mother too? I don’t want to risk it, and he’s hurting me enough as it is.

“I’m nothing but a cunt to fuck.” I gasp.

His hand strikes my face, I jolt in shock but the sting lingers long after he removes it. “Louder. Say it louder, bitch, keep saying it.”

I say it again, I scream it, I say it over and over and above my head my mother states it too. I’m nothing. I’m nothing. I’m a cunt to fuck. I am nothing but a cunt.

He groans, he grunts, he continues fucking me as my mother and I repeat those words like a mantra.

His face gets redder and redder, I know what is happening and I can’t thank god enough when he finally comes. His dick pumps away, I can feel it inside me, I can feel him filling me.

He stays where he is, his dick buried as deep as he can get and his hands either side of my body as he holds himself up.

His head is dropped down onto my chest, his face is buried between my breasts and for a moment I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

God, what if he has? Am I meant to stay like this?

Is my mother meant to stay like this? Are we meant to wait here, obedient, until he wakes?

I don’t know if it’s relief I feel when he suddenly groans proving he’s not asleep at all. He lifts his head, staring at me and he’s so close our faces are almost touching. “Remember what you are.” He says. “Every day I fill your womb is a blessing.”

I nod, far too afraid to speak.

He drags one finger down my cheek, no doubt feeling all the wetness from the tears I couldn’t hold back. “So beautiful.” He whispers. “Such a beautiful, sweet little thing.”

I can’t relate that action, the softness of it, to the brutality of what he’s just done.

My mother is still holding me. I think she doesn’t dare to move either. Gunther slides himself out, glancing at his cock as if he expects to see more blood there.

“Hold her legs up. Keep my seed inside her. I want her womb to drown in it.” He says, staring at my pussy.

My mother clearly understands those words better than I do because she releases my hands, grabs my legs and pulls them so I’m curled over, with my body held at an angle that has my arse and most intimate parts up in the air.

Gunther walks out, walks to the bathroom and we can hear the toilet flushing, we can hear the taps running for a few minutes.

When he walks back in, he’s dressed in a robe but it’s open and his dick is dangling between his legs, flopping as he walks. It looks almost comical, but I don’t dare laugh.

“You can get out.” He snaps to my mother. “Her womb should have drunk enough.”

I don’t want her to go. I don’t want her to leave me with him. I reach out, grabbing her arm but she squeezes my hand and this time I can tell it is a warning.

She clambers off the bed, bowing her head. “Goodnight, Chapter Lord.” She says as demurely as she can.

He waves his hand dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a servant.

As the door shuts, I stay where I am, with my body still hunched over, with all of me exposed.

He walks to the end of the bed, staring at me, at the only part of me he clearly cares about.

“Sweet virgin pussy.” He says smirking. “Though not a virgin anymore, eh, wife? I fucked you good and proper, didn’t I?”

I blink back, my body trembling from both pain and exhaustion.

He tilts his head, staring at something I can’t figure out, and then he just turns and walks out of the room, leaving the door to slam behind him.