Page 47 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

M y heart sinks more with every step I take. Ada was told to prepare me, and I know exactly what that means. What the next few hours will entail.

As we approach my old room, I stumble and Gunther looks at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Like he can’t tell I’m literally falling apart inside.

I don’t bother to plea. I don’t bother to say a word. I know it won’t make any difference. I guess I’m learning now, I guess he’s finally breaking me down.

As I walk in, I can see there’s a bunch of toys on the side. Lube too. Everything a person could possibly need for a night of debauchery. My stomach twists and I don’t want to contemplate in this moment who it might be using them.

Gunther tells me to wait so I stand with my back to the door and I stare off at the wall ahead of me, wishing my mind would break, wishing I could be as crazy as he is. Would that make everything better? Would that mean I’d at least enjoy the carnage?

When I hear footsteps again, a wave of bile rises so suddenly it’s all I can do not to throw up.

“Wife.” Gunther calls.

I don’t look. I don’t even bother to turn. Whoever the fuck it is will be more than happy to strip me here, where I stand.

I know it pisses him off but whoever is here clearly doesn’t react enough for my husband to care, so he steps back, leaving us alone and I hear the door click shut.

Silence. Awful, excruciating silence follows.

Is this man doing it to torture me further? Does he delight in my misery?

He takes a step and it’s so quiet, I nearly miss it.

As he gets closer, I shut my eyes tight. I don’t want to see his face. Perhaps, if he remains faceless, then this will be more bearable a memory to have.

His fingers brush my hair back. I can feel the texture of his skin, the roughness as he traces the silent tear that’s somehow escaped.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” He says.

Fear. Utter fear explodes in my chest. I stumble back, my eyes open wide as I see him. As I see that man, that guard.

“No,” I gasp. “No.”

He grins back at me, his entire body dwarfing mine, engulfing mine from just his size alone. “I saved your husband’s life today, malktā.” He states. “Guess what he granted me in return?”

I shake my head. My eyes dart to the door and before I can stop myself, I’m running, sprinting, trying to get the damned thing open. Only, it’s locked. It won’t budge an inch.

My husband locked me in with a monster.

“No.” I scream, slamming my fists into the wood. “No.”

“I get to fuck you.” Devin states, as he stalks towards me. “I get to play with you, hurt you, do whatever the fuck I want.”

I scream. I pound my fists harder.

He grabs me by my hair, dragging me back. I land a punch, a good punch, getting his jaw enough to make him register it but it doesn’t make him stop.

He hauls me over to the bed, dumps me on it and then he’s stripping me, stripping what little I have covering my body.

“No.” I scream, slapping, kicking, fighting harder, fighting for my very life.

He pins me down, using his knees to hold my arms in place as he straddles me.

“Is all this fighting for me? You’re normally so docile, so boring.” He says, cupping my cheek. “You’re making my cock hard just watching you.”

“Fuck you.” I spit.

He grins more, lowering his mouth to my ear. His hot breath sends a shiver through me as he speaks.

“Do you realise how much your resistance turns me on?”

He’s a bastard. An absolute bastard. I buck my head back, slamming it into his face and he groans as if he enjoys the pain.

He hauls my hands up, tying them together with a chunk of rope that he fixes to the bedframe. And I’m rendered immobile, defenceless, completely fucking useless.

He pulls my legs, straightening my body as I try to curl up.

“Don’t fucking move.” He says, before standing at the end of the bed, staring at me.

I can’t look at him. I can’t bear the thought that I’m here, trapped, imprisoned with this monster and for the next I don’t know how many hours, he’s free to do what he likes.

I can feel his eyes on me. I can hear his breathing, he feels like beast about to pounce, a devil about to devour me whole.

“Don’t do this.” I gasp. I know it’s pointless. I know the man has no conscience. No shame. He’s as bad as my husband, no, in so many ways, I think he’s worse. Far fucking worse.

He tilts his head; something flashes in those deadly eyes of his. He turns, stalking to where the sideboard is, to where those toys are.

When he comes back, I can see the thing in his hand, and it makes me whimper more.

“Don’t.” I plead again. “Please, don’t…”

He clambers onto the bed, yanking my legs apart so forcefully it hurts. As he settles himself between them, my face radiates with the shame. He can see me. He can see all of me. I know he’s seen me naked before, I know he’s seen that part of me, but this feels so much worse.

He drags the toy between my labia. It’s made of some plastic or other. He hasn’t lubricated it at all and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or not that he’s left the bottle where it is, that it’s untouched.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He says, meeting my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I, when your husband has laid you out so nicely for me?”

He drags the toy up, making slow deliberate circles that, to my horror, doesn’t even feel that bad.

“I’m going to fuck you, Malktā. And because you’ve been such a little bitch, I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

I scream as he plunges that toy into me, as it gets stuck on something inside me and he uses all his strength to force it past, to bury it as far as he can.

My legs kick out. My body physically locks up with the most excruciating pain.

He drags the toy out, stares at it as if he’s trying to see whether he’s made me bleed already.

“You know what I have noticed.” He says as he focuses once more on that awful pressure point. Circling. Tormenting me. “You don’t come. All the times he fucks you, all the times anyone of us has touched you, not once have you come for us.”

I grit my teeth. Like a woman would ever come when she’s being held down and forced to do things she doesn’t want.

“Is your cunt broken, is that it?” He asks, staring between my legs. “Are you so damned frigid you don’t even know how to get off?”

I clench my teeth together so hard, refusing to reply, refusing to give him anything.

He throws his head back and laughs and it feels like I’ve waved a red rag at a bull.

“I’m going to make you come, bitch. I’m going to make you come so many times it’s going to hurt. I’m going to hold you down and force you for hours. I’m going to bend your body, bend your mind, I’m going to have you weeping, crying, begging me to stop and you want to know the best bit…”

He reaches up, grabs my throat, and squeezes just enough to make my heart stop.

“When I finally break you, you’re going to scream my name like I’m your god.”

“Like fuck I will.” I hiss.

He smirks more, laughs at my response, and then turns the damned toy on.

I can feel the vibration, I can hear that buzzing sound, and I swear that noise will follow me, will haunt me, will be playing in my head while I’m trapped in the very pits of hell.

I jolt as he puts it up against me, as he holds it right where he knows it will ruin me.

“No,” I scream. “No.”

He shoves his face right into mine, scrutinizes every minute second of my shame.

My thighs shake, my body revolts. I do everything I can to stop this, to fight this. But it’s too much, it’s too good, too… I arch my back, crying as something inside me takes over, some feeling I don’t want override all the hate and disgust I have in this moment.

My legs kick out, my body jerks and I know exactly what’s happened as the scream leaves my lips.

Devin stares at me, smirking, like he’s proven some point.

Only, he hasn’t. Not really. Anyone can get another to come in such conditions, at least that’s what I tell myself.

That’s how I rationalise this. It’s not my body, it’s not him winning something over me.

It’s just biology. Nothing more. Nothing complex about it.

He moves the thing, circling my most sensitive part and a shake my head without thinking. He got what he wanted, why the fuck is he doing more?

‘I’m going to make you come so many times it’s going to hurt.’ His words ring out in my head. They condemn me.

He puts that thing on my clit again, he tortures me more.

My tears stream down my face, my body is lost in both the shame and humiliation that I’m doing this, I’m giving him exactly what he wants and, on some level, I’m desperate for it.

“Slut.” Devin says. “Dirty little slut.”

I am a slut. A slut and a whore and a disgusting piece of shit but I can’t stop the way my hips jerk, the way my pussy throbs. The way I come so many times I do lose count.

And then he’s lining his cock up, sliding himself into me, no, not sliding, forcing, demanding. Those awful metal spikes push up against my insides, they tear into my flesh and every thrust he makes cuts me more.

I arch my back, I kick out, I try to get the bastard off me but he’s too strong, too powerful.

He starts pounding into me, fucking me so roughly, he has to grab my body to hold me in place despite the rope.

I cry out. I beg him to stop. I beg over and over and all he does is tell me how good I feel, how much I deserve this.

How I’ve somehow been tempting him for so long now and this is my comeuppance, this is the consequence.

I don’t understand what he means, I don’t understand what the fuck he’s talking about but as finally comes in me, I’m so mentally broken I don’t even feel relief that it’s over.

He pulls himself out, then stares at where I know he’s leaking out of me.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I got you pregnant.” He says. “What would you husband do as you grew fat with my child and not his?”