Page 27 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Some servants moves to unchain them all from one another and then they’re separated out, made to kneel, made to take various positions around the room.

I can’t help but feel sorry for them despite the fact that I know they must have committed some awful crime to be where they are.

They all look toned, muscular, but not overly so.

All the women have firm bodies except for a couple who have huge breasts and rounder stomachs and wide, curvaceous hips.

When I look at them, I wonder if that’s what people really mean when they describe women as voluptuous and hourglass. Not my cosmetically altered appearance.

I glance down at myself, comparing my body with theirs. I’m not skinny. The fact I have less ribs makes it appear so but my hips are wide enough and my breasts are big enough to prove that if I could eat what I wanted and leave my body be, I’d probably look more like them than I do.

Most of the women are wearing revealing enough outfits. But the men are completely naked. One of the men has something around him that I don’t even want to look at, so I ensure my eyes never reach him.

Gunther barks for the music to change and, as something new starts to play, he gets up and pads over to where one of the curvier slaves is being made to stay on all fours like she’s some sort of table.

I stay where I am, hoping to fade into the background.

He squats down, grabbing hold of one of her breasts that’s dangling free of the silly string dress they put her in. As he fondles her, she doesn’t react. She stays perfectly still. Two of his friends get up, grinning from ear to ear as they too squat beside her and start feeling parts of her.

“Great tits.” Gunther says. “Fine fucking tits.”

The woman keeps her face still. Keeps her expression locked down and I wonder if that will make him move on or make him want to do more to get a reaction.

He gives her breast a squeeze, a hard nasty one and he digs his nails right into her flesh.

She whimpers just enough to show he hurt her and he laughs before giving her a hard slap on her arse.

“There you go, bitch.” He says.

His friend looks at him for the permission, then slides his tunic aside and pushes himself into her. She shuts her eyes, wincing as he starts fucking her and Gunther gives her another slap on her arse as if in encouragement.

My heart seems to skip a beat. My adrenaline feels like it’s spiking.

This is happening, isn’t it. This night is turning into exactly what I imagined it would be. I look around, hearing the sound of more moans and I realise more of his friends are enjoying themselves now, are enjoying the slaves.

Most of them are simply playing, fondling. A few are being fucked. It all feels tame enough but that won’t sate my husband’s desires. I know any minute he’s going to sink into more barbarism. He’s going to need to.

“Wife.” Gunther bellows.

I jolt, snapping my head in his direction.

He’s still there, still with that same woman. His other mate is fucking her now. I guess the first had his fun and finished.

“Get over here.” Gunther orders.

I don’t want to do it. I want to run. I want to hide but I bury those thoughts and grab Gunther’s goblet that he left on the side.

“You look thirsty, husband.” I say, handing it to him.

He looks up at me in confusion before taking it and gulping down enough that it trickles either side of his mouth. He then shoves it back at me before grabbing my dress right around my neckline and pulling me to my knees.

I don’t know how I don’t spill the drink. Somehow, I manage to keep the contents inside.

“Her tits are better.” Gunther states.

“Nah, this woman has great fucking breasts.” His buddy laughs and I realise then how drunk he is.

Gunther shakes his head. “Show them.” He orders to me.

I balk, staring at him. He cannot be serious.

He grabs my dress, yanking the fabric enough that it rips and then he pulls it wide open, revealing my chest to everyone in the room.

“See.” He says, slapping my right breast to make it jolt. “Great breasts. Better breasts.”

His mate grins, before pulling the slave back. “Can your bitch do this?” He asks, squeezing the nipple and I cry out in shock as the poor woman squirts literal milk at us.

She’s lactating? That poor woman has a baby?

Gunther groans, shaking his head, sticking his tongue out as the man squirts more and more into his mouth.

I turn my face away, feeling like I’m going to puke.

“What you looking at?” My husband snarls into my ear. “Tell me what has gotten your attention so much you dare to look at anything beyond your husband?”

I blanche, quickly turning back to him. “I’m sorry, I…”

He grabs my face, grabs my cheeks pulling me forward. “Suck.”

He pushes my face against the woman, against her poor bruised breast.

“Suck. Suck from the source.”

I don’t want to. I can’t imagine anything more fucking disgusting, but his friend grabs her, moves her, shoves her nipples into my face and squeezes again.

It’s warm. Slightly sweet. I hate that I know that. Hate that that is now something I’ll never forget. It trickles over my lips, down my chin, down further onto my own exposed breasts and Gunther sees it, he grins more and then he starts lapping away, licking it off me now.

He drags his lips up, grabs my mouth and shoves his tongue inside. I almost choke as he does it.

A noise behind us makes him stop. A cry makes everyone turn.

One of the slave men is curled up, is huddled up. A man stands over him, kicking, yelling, clearly losing his temper. We can all see his cock out, see it bouncing, half erect and he lashes out at the slave.

It’s the priest. The same priest who lashed me, who ‘purified me’ after my husband gave me to the guards.

I screw my face up, feeling a wave of hate before I collect myself, before I somehow manage to return my face to something akin to neutral.

“What is this?” Gunther asks, sounding more bored than concerned.

“Stupid fuck bit me.” The priest replies. “He should learn to keep his teeth in and his tongue out.”

“You want his teeth?” Gunther asks.

The priest opens his mouth to reply but Gunther has already raised his hand, summoning a guard.

To my horror, I realise it’s him, Magnus’ brother. He strolls over, towering over us all. How is it possible for a man to grow so big? How is that natural?

“My Lord?” The guard says, and his voice is so deep, so devoid of emotion I swear I whimper.

“You grew up in Oblivion didn’t you, tell me, Blake, what punishment is there for a slave that bites?”

The guard doesn’t react, those harsh, demon like features just stare down at the chained man. “That would depend upon his status…” He begins.

Gunther waves his hand dismissively like he doesn’t really care what anyone has to say.

“His teeth.” He spits. “I want his teeth. I want every single one. I’ll make a necklace of them. A pretty ivory necklace for my pretty little wife.”

Sweet lord. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than to be forced to wear such a thing.

No, I can. Having my teeth pulled, having them ripped from my mouth… I stumble back in horror, but Gunther grabs me, pinning my body against his as the guard begins to work away.

“Watch, wife.” He says. “Watch closely.”

I can’t help but feel like those words are a threat. That he’s planning to do this to me too if I ever bite him. Hell, he doesn’t even need to excuse, he’d probably do it just because he can.

The man screams, he bucks and her jerks, but the guard holds him in an iron-like grip, with just his left hand. And in his right, he’s twisting a dagger, cutting out every single molar, every canine, every tooth, letting them drop to the floor in a bloodied mess.

It doesn’t take long before all thirty-two are laying on the marble, leaving the man to practically choke on his own blood. His gums are a mangled mess. I can see the hollow gaps where his teeth were only moments ago. He gasps, spitting more and more blood as he rolls around in agony.

Gunther pushes me aside, drops to his knees and picks one tooth up and then another, studying them. “Such roots.” He whispers. “Such long, long roots, like a tree.”

I can’t tell if the room is enraptured by him or horrified. Everyone is staring, everyone is captivated.

He bites into one, frowning as if he expected his teeth to be strong enough to break it. Then he tosses the molar like it’s a piece of trash.

“Why is the music not playing?” He asks, looking around. “Why has it stopped?”

God, he really thought we’d all still be partying after witnessing such a spectacle?

The band springs into action, and the sound of something jovial, something so contrary to the scene before us, fills the air.

He looks from one person to another. We’re all just stood here, staring. Unsure what will amuse him and what will piss him off further.

“Dance.” He orders, like it’s obvious and he claps his hands jovially. “Dance.”

A few move instantly, swaying their bodies, obeying him, placating him. He folds his arms, grinning as they do, before he joins in, jumping, leaping like a man possessed.

I gulp, stepping back, stepping away, wondering if I could disappear now and if anyone would truly notice. They all seem so fixated on my dear husband. Right now, he’s like the belle of the ball.

He grabs a slave, flinging the man around, before a few of the guests follow after.

I take a small backwards step, one that feels testing.

I could do it. I could just slip out. If he’s drunk enough, if he’s focused on other amusements, then surely, he’ll forget me?

I’m not nearly far enough away to rouse any suspicion but as my husband comes to a stop, as he stares at me, I feel like everyone here can tell what I was thinking, what I was planning.

“Wife?” He says, in such a tone.

I gulp, freezing.

“Are you not entertained?” He asks.

“I am.” I say quickly. “I was watching you, enjoying your happiness.”

He tilts his head like he knows how much of a lie that statement is.