Page 23 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

So, I get up, taking my time to move over her, the way a devil does an angel. The way a predator does the prey he’s about to devour.

She doesn’t notice me at first. Her face is pulled up, her head is twisted as she’s forced to take Curtis’s cock.

But when she does see me from the corner of her eye, she freaks out more. A hand gets loose, she manages to slap me, and I take that sting, I fucking delight in it.

Yeah, you can hurt me, bitch, you can fight. In fact, I want you to fight. I want you to do everything you can to try to stop me.

I grab her thighs, pulling them apart. She’s got a sweet little pussy.

It’s bruised right now, bloodied too from what Malik has already done, and I’d give anything to lower my mouth and kiss it better.

To lick up every last trace of her blood.

But I won’t do that here. I sure as hell will not do anything to touch her while we have so many onlookers.

I grab my cock, giving it a good hard tug and her eyes latch onto it. Does she think I’m going to disobey her husband? Does she think her cunt is so tempting that I’ll ignore orders and fuck her anyway?

I glance across at him, at Gunther. He’s stood, his own dick in his hand, masturbating as he’s watching this thing play out.

He’s a fucking fool to have brought her here, to have put her in this position.

There’s twenty of us. Twenty grown men, fuelled by alcohol and testosterone.

Most of us haven’t had a good fuck in weeks.

It wouldn’t take much for us to flip the scales.

To turn this into something far more entertaining.

His little wife would become a fine plaything for us.

A nice little treat for us all the enjoy and ruin.

And the way the other men feel, the mood of this room, I wonder if a few of them are contemplating it. We could screw his rules, could easily overpower him and then this sweet little cunt would be ours to play with until she was all used up and nothing but a broken toy by the time the sun rises.

I groan, pumping my cock, imagining it. Imagining pushing into her, forcing my way in past those tight muscles.

She’d really scream then, wouldn’t she? She’d learn the true meaning of fear.

She cries enough when her husband fucks her, and his cock is tiny compared to the brute size of mine.

Add the fact I got a few enhancements, a nice little set of metal spikes, and yeah, I think I could make this little bitch cry more than ever.

“No…” She sobs as if she can hear my thoughts.

I look at her, holding her gaze. She really does have such pretty little eyes. Like sparkling blue diamonds. One day I’m gonna make those eyes cry so much and it’ll all be for me.

I grin at her, I pump away, watching as she lays there, terrified but not daring to move.

Little whore. Whatever her husband thinks of her, whatever this game is, I’ll have my fun now, terrorising her just enough to make her shit herself every time she lays eyes on me from now on.

Every time she walks down a hallway, every time she spies my shadow in the distance, she’ll remember this.

She’ll remember the power I had over her in this moment.

My cock feels so good. I shudder as I thrust into my hand.

Her cunt is still weeping with blood because I doubt any of this is arousing her and as I bring myself to climax, I aim for that sweet spot right above her labia.

I pour myself all over her. She flinches.

She screws her face up in disgust and I let out a cruel laugh.

It’s so tempting to lean down, to smear myself all over her, to cover her in my come.

But I don’t want to touch her, not here, not in front of everyone. Something tells me that soon enough, I’ll have my moment. Soon enough I’ll be able to touch and hurt as much as I please.

I don’t know why the other men have stopped. I don’t know why they’re all stood watching me.

I let out a growl as I realise it and the few that are stood beside me seem to come to life. They grab the bitch, grab at her body and they’re jerking away, masturbating over what bits of flesh they have access too.

The sound of slapping fills the air. Men’s groans accompany it. And all too soon my come isn’t the only thing covering her. The others have joined in, they’ve poured themselves out onto her body, have smeared the mess across her perfect, soft skin. She’s covered in them. Covered in all of them.

I scowl looking at her, looking at the mess of it. She looks what she is now. She looks exactly what her husband wants her to be.

A perfect little cumslut. A dirty little whore.

When the last of the men are finished, her husband strolls up. He looks so proud, so damned satisfied. We part almost reluctantly to let him through and if that isn’t a measure of how close to losing control he was, then I don’t know what is.

He clambers onto that same table we’ve all been abusing her on. His trousers are down by his knees, and we can all see his flat, hairy arse poking out.

“Good.” He says as he appraises her. “Very good.”

She sobs, trying to cover her face and he slaps her hard to stop her from doing it.

“Pride is a sin, wife, just as disobedience is.”

She nods, biting her lip that’s split and is bleeding from all the cocks that have been shoved past them.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

She nods again, trembling more.

He smirks, pumping more, jerking his hips as he does. “One more to learn, I’d say.”

Watching a man jerk off has never bothered me.

We all have needs, after all. But watching him, watching his little dick growing redder and redder, and hearing the way he grunts just a little as he does it…

I keep my face neutral but as I scan the others, I can tell they feel the same as I do; it’s not respect we have for our leader right now, it’s disgust.

He picks up speed, he gasps, muttering so low no one can catch what he’s saying.

When he comes, he stoops over, like he’s too weak to hold himself up. His cock spits out the most pitiful amount of semen and it lands on her perfect tits, sullying them more.

She shuts her eyes briefly. She does her best to not react.

Gunther stares down at her, a look of utter contempt on his face.

And then he walks out, leaving her here. Leaving her completely alone and at the mercy of us jackals.

It would only take one, one flick of a match and this entire thing would go up in flames.

No one moves. No one speaks.

The girl is stupid enough to make a sound and that seems to break the ice. It shatters it.

Soren pounces, grabbing at her. Curtis drags him back.

Malik and I move to block the other men while Mace hollers for someone to get this bitch out of here.

It feels like a standoff as we wait, and thankfully two maids come rushing in. From the way the girl clings to them, I’d say they’ve found her in a similar situation more than once before. They help her to stand, wrapping their arms around her like she’s not covered in all our come.

She wobbles as she walks but they’re quick to get her out of here as if they too recognise the danger we are.

As the door shuts, the room seems to erupt into laughter. Beers are passed out, but it doesn’t feel quite like a celebration, it feels like a relief. Like we’re all grateful we’re still alive.

“Still a wet fish.” Someone comments and he gets a rowdy response.

I let out a low breath, grabbing a drink, needing it now. I need to get the image of her out of my head. I need to forget how delicious her cunt looked, how damned tempting it was.

“He’s mad.” Lyndon whispers beside me. I glance at him, knowing exactly who he’s referring to.

Gunther is mad. And I don’t know what that means for us, for the Brethren, or for his pretty little wife either.