Page 20 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Devin

T he room is stuffy, even with as few people as there are in it.

I think our Chapter Lord seems to like it that way, likes the very air to feel oppressive.

I shift in my boots, trying to ignore the way the sweat seems to be building between my toes.

Gunther is waffling on, more muttering than actually speaking, but every so often I catch a word, a snatch of the conversation.

The Senate are sat around, though enough of them are absent to make me wonder if they too grow bored of these meetings. The only thing of note is that he brought her; the wife.

She’s stood behind him, like a silent sentry, a guard, just like the rest of us, only she’s not nearly as good at standing still as we are. I can see the way she moves, the way she almost jumps from one foot to the other as if she’s too weak to stand properly.

She looks like shit. She has big bags under her eyes, there’s a mark on her cheek that I’d put money on coming from being hit, and her neck is still showing the lingering evidence of what her husband did to her on her wedding day.

But her hair is pretty. Her makeup is all done, and she’s wearing a sexy little dress that hugs her body, showing to us all that she has very little to no underwear on under the fabric.

“Why has it not been done?” Gunther snaps, slamming his hand down onto the table.

Enough of the people around him jump. His wife practically shits herself.

All ten of us guards spread around the room don’t move a muscle.

“With respect, Chapter Lord, your order is somewhat controversial.” The Leader of the Senate says. “Child brides are not something the Brethren in general will ignore, and we cannot go against the greater teachings of our Grand Master.”

“They’re not child brides.” Gunther retorts. “If they’re old enough to bleed, they’re old enough to breed.”

The Senate exchanges a look that says what we’re all thinking.

Gunther grabs his wife, dragging her forward. “This girl would have given me a dozen sons if I’d be allowed to marry her at twelve.”

“It’s not healthy.” One of the older members states. “Girls having children that young. It doesn’t produce good offspring, and it certainly shortens the mother’s lifespan.”

“Who gives a fuck about the mothers when we’re concerned with sons?” Gunther sneers, shoving her back and out of the way and she nearly slams into the wall from the force of it.

“Chapter Lord.” A different man says. “With respect, the families of the girls would feel differently. And it would lead to a shortage, many would hold their daughters back and then that would cause friction between those who don’t and those who do.”

“Do I care if they have a pissing contest?” Gunther remarks.

“You will if they turn on you.” The Leader of the Senate replies. He’s the only one bold enough to dare to make such a comment.

“Fine. We can add to the ruling then; we can amend it. We can allow Lords to take more than one wife and that will fix that issue of families feeling left behind.”

“Excuse me?” Someone splutters.

“Enough other cults do it, don’t they? I believe the Mormons have a dozen a piece. Can you imagine it? A dozen wives to fuck? Why, you could have one in the morning and a different one at night, every single day of the week…”

Silence follows that statement. Gunther looks at them all as if he’s waiting for something and then his entire expression seems to change. He clicks his fingers, hollering for his wife to come back.

She blanches, taking one timid step and then another but it’s evidently not quick enough for his liking because he’s grabbing her, slamming her down onto the table and he’s wrenching her dress up far above her waist.

She screams, she snatches out, but her hands can’t grasp anything and he’s undoing his belt, pushing himself into her and starts fucking her right there, in front of us all.

“Imagine it.” He says groaning. “Imagine a different cunt day and night.”

“Chapter Lord?” One of the Senate splutters.

He grunts, grabbing hold of her dress and he tries to pull it up, over her head, exposing her more.

“Noooo.” She gasps, trying to stop him and he backhands her hard enough that we can feel the impact of his hand on her face.

She falls still, falls silent, letting him use her as the Senate sit there and watch.

All the bits of paper beneath her start to crumple, we can hear something squeaking as he bucks away.

“That’s better.” He comments as he stares down at her, at where is dick is sliding in and out. “Pretty little cunt.” He adds. “You just need to remember that’s all you are. A cunt to use. A cunt to fuck.”

It’s not a lie. It’s literally the purpose of all wives.

He doesn’t even stop thrusting as he fixes the man with his beady little eyes. “Go on.”

“But…” another begins.

“Chapter Lord, we can clearly see that you’re, uh, busy, how about we break for lunch and…”

“How about you finish your business before I have you thrown off the Senate.” Gunther snaps back.

He can’t do that. He doesn’t have that power. But the Senate exchange glances like they don’t want to piss him off.

And the whole time, his wife is whimpering, gasping, clearly not enjoying any of this.

He grunts as he slides in and out of her.

His hand moves to hold her head down and with his spare, he wrenches her hips up, finding better rhythm.

The sound of his skin slapping against hers fills the air and I swear I can see it, his balls dangling, slapping against her soft skin as he rocks back and forth.

“She’s doing it again.” One of them guards mutter into their earpiece.

I glance around catching his eye for a second.

“Lazy bitch doesn’t even try to make it good.” Our commander says quietly.

A few of them snigger. Thankfully the sound of his grunting covers the noise, but I drop my eyes watching the scene. It’s hardly salacious. An old man whose balls are so shrivelled up they look like little prunes.

And the girl… I’ve seen more effort from the slaves in Oblivion.

“…so you see, I think it would be a mistake to lower the age. Many families will not be happy with this change.” One of the Senate says.

Gunther snarls, shaking his head, “It’s my decision to make. And I have decided. The Lord has spoken to me directly. He has said any girl who has had her period is old enough to be married.”

The Senate exchange glances again.

Gunther slams his hand down, narrowly missing his wife’s head. “I am Chapter Lord. Me. I can do what I like. Change what I like. I make the decisions. And all you snivelling fucks have to do what I say.”

As if to emphasis his point, he comes, roaring out as if he thinks he’s some sort of beast. The wife lies there, her eyes shut, her breathing erratic.

He pulls out, wiping his dick on those plump little cheeks of hers and then he reaches forward, drags her back by her hair, and dumps her at his feet.

“Stay.” He orders, like she’s dog. “Stay right fucking there, until I have a need for you again.”