Page 35 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Devin

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come.

And yet, I needed to get out of that damned place.

I know I’ll regret this tomorrow morning; I know another night of no sleep will only fuck me over more but I need to purge myself. Purge her from my system.

The slave whimpers as I slam my cock down her throat while I shut my eyes and imagine it’s someone else entirely.

Someone with bright blue, devastating eyes.

Someone with stupidly gold hair.

Someone who can’t fight back, who won’t fight back, who has the lie there and take it, take it all.

How prettily she’d cry.

How prettily she’d moan too.

The little bitch.

I’d keep her on her knees for hours. I’d draw it out. I’d ensure she was begging me to come down her throat by the time I was done.

And I’d have her fucking herself the whole time too, have her fingers so deep in her cunt she’d be gasping for mercy while her arousal dripped down her thighs.

Little whore.

Little fucking whore.

I snarl again, twisting my cock, making sure the barbs do their job and slice up the slave’s mouth good and proper.

My hands twist in her hair, my nails claw at her skin. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.

That Paitlyn bitch has ruined me, she’s got into my head, she’s colluded with them, with the whispers, with the darkness.

She’s become part of it, part of the place I’m not allowed to go, the part of myself that I’m not allowed to explore.

She’s the ultimate forbidden fruit, only she’s not so forbidden, is she?

Her husband is happy enough to share her around and I figure that that’s why she’s done it, why she’s manipulated me.

I bet she’s done that with all the guards, turned her pretty little eyes onto them, cried those pretty little tears and all of us are now under her spell.

My jealousy spikes with the notion that it’s not just me she wants, that I’m not enough for her.

She thinks she can get better than me, she thinks she can do better, stupid little whore, I’ll show her, I’ll make her understand.

Sooner or later, I will have her and when I do, she’ll realise what the consequences are for playing such silly little mind games.

I’ll hurt her, I’ll fuck her too, I’ll leave my mark on her permanently, in a way she can’t wash off or remove.

I’ll ensure every time she looks in the mirror, every time she catches a glimpse of herself, she sees me, she sees my claim on her, she sees who owns her, she’ll see it all.

I throw my read back as a wave of euphoria hits me. My body physically shakes, pleasure explodes in my head, and all I can think about is her, how good it’s going to feel when I finally get my hands on her.

The slave screams out, slapping her hands against my thighs, trying to get loose and as I pull my cock out, I can see her face is almost purple. Stupid bitch, did she not learn to breathe through her nose when she’s sucking a man off?

She falls to the floor, gasping out both blood and come. I don’t bother to check if she’s okay. There are minders enough for that. No doubt they’ll come across her soon enough and if no one’s around, I’m sure they’ll have a little fun too.

I do my trousers back up, fix my belt, and let out a low, rattling breathe.

It feels good to purge, it feels good to let the demons out. I know I could have done this back at the Palace, that enough of the maids are fair game, but being here, embracing my true self has always allowed me to feel freer, to be freer.

I glance at my watch, seeing how little time I have left and head for the exit. If I ride fast, I might just manage an hour’s shuteye.

As I make it up to the final gate I spot him, lurking. Of course the fucker knows I’m here. Bet he was watching on the surveillance, counting down the minutes.

“You’re here again.” Magnus says with such a tone.

I don’t reply. What can I say?

I’ve been coming here too much. Too many times. I know that. I’m more than aware of that. But what else can I do when those voices are growing louder. When her voice is almost constantly screaming, constantly begging.

I shut my eyes, and she’s there, lying on Gunther’s bed. Only, he’s not in the room. It’s just us. Just me and her. I can see the fear in her pretty eyes. I can see how much she’s trembling.

But she’s doing it all the same. She’s moaning my name as she fucks herself. She’s pleading, begging, desperate for me. Me.

And she wants me to hurt her. I know that. I can see it. She likes my kind of pain, not her husband’s. She wants to spread her legs and let me break her, let me ruin her, let me make her bleed.

“Devin.” Magnus snaps.

I blink, pulling myself out of my head.

“You’re taking your meds, right?”

That question alone pisses me off more than anything. Does he still see me as that, as some stupid little boy he can control? I clench my fists, itching to slam them into his self-satisfied face.

“You know you…”

“I know how to manage myself.” I snarl.

I know I don’t need his bullshit, I don’t need pills either. I’m fine. I’m fucking fine. I’m not fucking psychotic no matter what he or some jumped up little doctor says. I’m not fucked in the head, at least, no more than Magnus or Conrad is.

Only, no one forces shit down their throats.

No one tries to put labels on them. Just because I let the demons out, just because I make friends with them, that apparently makes me the problem?

My brother wishes he was like me, he wishes he could be as free, as liberated, deep down we both know it.

It’s why he has such a need for control.

I can’t tell if he’s afraid to continue the conversation further or whether he’s just decided it’s easier to let it go. But mercifully, he starts talking about our dear leader. About how he’s demanding more slaves, like we have an endless supply in Oblivion.

“He’s started ex-communicating people.” Magnus states. “Significant people. Names that are getting noticed.”

“Like who?” I reply. We both know the man he’s referring to. Our dear Chapter Lord.

“The Ramseys, the Todds.” He shrugs.

“Sounds like he’s planning on restocking Oblivion with anyone who disagrees with him.

” I reply. Richard Todd is on the Senate, at least, he was.

But there’s also been no trial. No official verdicts.

Apparently, the man has just been removed and dealt with as though Gunther has the power of a dictator.

But then, he’s been disregarding the rules long enough, hasn’t he?

“She’s a Founder.” I say quietly as my mind flickers to the bane of my life.

Magnus shows his surprise in the tiniest of movements. “The wife?”

As if she can be defined simply by that title. She’s so much more than that, she’s… I stop myself, stop those thoughts.

Who the fuck am I right now? How the fuck did that bitch get into my head?

“So,” Magnus half-seethes, “He’s breaking more rules. If he keeps going, we’ll have our Grand Master himself breathing down our necks.”

“Concerned for your own skin?” I sneer. Oh, I know he has skeletons, and big fucking closets too.

I know his wife isn’t as dead as everyone thinks because I found her on one of my little adventures.

She’s probably one of the many voices we can hear at this moment, screaming away, emptying their lungs, praying someone might come and rescue them.

He gives me a look I know so well. One that tells me he’s in charge, that he could break me if he wanted – only, that’s not so true anymore. This man may have raised me after our parents’ death but I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m a grown man and I’m over twice his size, twice Conrad’s size too.

“He wants to reopen the Ark.” Magnus says.

“What?” I cut across him. He can’t be serious.

But Magnus doesn’t joke. I doubt the man even knows how to laugh. “He’s been pushing for a while.”

“But our Grand Master would never allow it. The Lords wouldn’t either.” I state.

The Ark has been closed since way before my father’s time. It’s the part of Oblivion that now lays empty. Disused, and for good fucking reason. It’s where we used to hold children, babies too. Where people could use them, buy them, do whatever the fuck they wanted to them.

They weren’t Brethren children. They were undesirables. Children taken from the streets, from orphanages, from anywhere that wouldn’t be noticed. No, we’d never let our Brethren offspring end up in such a place, our bloodlines are too holy, too precious to ever allow such a thing.

“Gunther is trying to separate himself, establish his own powerbase, maybe his own faction.” Magnus states.

“He’d never be able to.” I reply. He thinks he can go up against the might of the Brethren?

“He will start a war; he will happily sacrifice enough people though. The man isn’t sane.”

I wince, knowing that statement couldn’t be any truer.

“There is something though.” I reply. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Something is going on. It’s not just in his head; it’s not just a conspiracy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “Then you need to be extra vigilant. Extra careful. Whatever the fuck it is, you need to make sure you don’t get caught in it. Because when this goes down, heads will roll and it won’t just be Gunther’s.”