Page 19 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

I can’t breathe, the weight of his body is crushing me against the unforgiving mahogany of his enormous desk. Each thrust is a sharp reminder of my place here, a lesson in power and submission that I never asked to learn, nor needed to.

My hips ache from the relentless pressure, and it feels like the wood grain is etching itself into my skin like a brand.

I bite my lip, hard, tasting the coppery tang of my blood. It’s a reminder that I’m here, that I’m human, that I’m even alive.

He had me escorted to this part of the Palace hours ago. He had me standing in the corner like a statue while he worked away.

I don’t know what changed, but one minute he was rifling through paperwork, and the next, he was barking for me to get over here, to spread my legs, and fulfil my purpose.

I guess the silver lining is, he hasn’t struggled to get hard, has he? Whatever Kora is doing, it’s working. I escape the irony that fixing his impotency doesn’t take away my pain, it just changes the parameters.

Gunther’s sweat mingles with mine, his grunts of pleasure echo around the opulent office that has now become my personal chamber of horrors.

I’m whimpering, creating a pathetic soundtrack to our sordid encounter, but I dare not cry out. I’ve learned that my pain only fuels his desire, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he actually hurts me.

I tell myself that it could be worse. I could be married to a man without power, without wealth.

But as he fucks me, as he brutalises me more and more, the truth washes over me; I would have traded it all, the title, the prestige, the power too, for a chance at true happiness.

Even the lowliest lord would have been a better fate than this.

The door creaks open, and my face flames with shame as Senate Leader Aldric steps into the room. His eyes take in the scene with a clinical detachment, and for a moment, he stands there, an unwelcome voyeur to my torment.

“I can see you’re busy, Chapter Lord.” Aldric says, his voice betraying no hint of surprise or disgust. It’s as if he’s merely commenting on the weather.

Gunther grunts in response, his pace never faltering. “Give me a minute.” he growls, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force. He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. “You hear that, whore? You’re putting on a show now.”

The words are a knife in my heart, but I refuse to let him see me bleed. He continues his assault, his insults just as degrading as his actions.

“Such a sweet cunt.” he whispers, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.

We can all hear the slapping of his flesh against mine. Aldric stands there, staring right at where the action is as if he has no shame, and I can’t look at him, I can’t.

I stare at the wood, trying to keep my tears at bay.

I can cry when I’m alone. I can weep and wail then.

When Gunther finally finds his release, he collapses onto me, and his body is a dead weight that steals what little breath I have left.

He heaves and he gasps as if he’s just run a marathon, before he pulls his sweaty flesh off mine and does his trousers back up.

“Go.” he commands, without even looking at me.

I scramble to obey, my torn dress barely covering my modesty. I can feel their eyes on me, and it makes the bile in my mouth threaten to overspill everywhere.

I am nothing more than a piece of meat to them, I know it, I can feel it. I’m an object to be used and discarded.

“I see your wife has given you a new lease of life, Chapter Lord.” Aldric muses as he watches me.

Gunther laughs back. “Her cunt certainly has.” He agrees.

Somehow, I make it to the door, my legs shaking from how I’ve been held down for so long.

“Get some rest, whore.” Gunther calls after me. “I plan to spend the entire night with my cock buried in you.”

I know he’s playing to the audience. I know he’s being a boastful piece of shit. But that doesn’t stop the whimper, and I pick up pace, fleeing the room, as they both laugh more.