Page 92 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

A m I mad? I think I must be. No, I have to be.

We’re back in the room, the bedroom. I let him carry me back up like I’m so sort of invalid, some helpless princess once more.

His hands tangle in my hair, and he breaks free from kissing me to make a comment about how he should brush the knots out.

It sounds so ridiculous, it sounds so out of place, coming from his mouth that I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“You think it’s funny that I want to take care of you?” He snaps.

“You’re not the caring type.” I reply.

He stills, his hands tightening enough to make me realise I’ve pissed him off and I chastise myself for being so careless with my words.

He may say he loves me, but that doesn’t mean shit when it comes down to it.

“I can be.” He states. “I can be caring, and I will be. I’ll keep you safe, Paitlyn, no one now will every hurt you.”

Lies. I know they are. But right now, they’re sugar coated, almost soothing, and I’m too used to the darkness to want to disregard a tiny bit of kindness, even if it is make-believe.

He traces my face with his still bloodied fingertips. “Go lie on the bed.” He says.

The words catch me off guard. Does he really want more already?

I let out a low breath as I take unsteady steps over to where the bed is. I clamber on, laying on my back and effectively stare at the ceiling, though I’m met with that same dark emptiness as always.

The shift in weight on the mattress tells me that Devin is there, by my feet.

“Spread your legs.” He says.

I wince, but I do it all the same, and I feel him move, feel him adjust to settle his colossal size right between them.

His hands reach up between my thighs, his touch feels gentle and, as he slides one finger inside me, I clench my jaw. I’m still wet but it stings all the same.

“I’ve been doing some research.” He says quietly, as he starts working the digit in and out so fucking slowly.

“A, about what?” I whisper. When does the man have time to research shit when he’s busy murdering half the country?

“About your cunt. About why it’s so damned tight.” He says so matter of fact.

I don’t know what to say to that, how to reply. I blink back tears as he keeps up his exploration, only, it doesn’t feel quite as brutal as it first started.

“Turns out you really do have a magic cunt.” He says, before he curls his finger inside me and I swear something snaps, something in me shifts and it feels like the entire universe shifts, it almost explodes in my head.

God, it feels so good. It actually feels good.

I arch my back, I lose all sense of reason and I’m moaning, gasping, grabbing at the bed sheets like a thing possessed.

My feet kick out, my body physically begs for more and, as he relaxes the movement, I know he must look so smug.

“Want to know what it is?” He asks.

“Wha, what, what what is?” I stammer. I feel like I’ve lost track of the conversation, lost track of everything beyond that one, incredible moment.

“You have a condition. It’s called vaginismus. It means your cunt physically locks up when someone tries to fuck you.”

I don’t know what I’m meant to say to that. What reply I can give. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Does that mean I’m broken, more broken?

“Gunther probably caused it after the first time he fucked you.” Devin continues. “He almost killed you that day, so it wouldn’t be surprising if it left some permanent trauma. Of course, it doesn’t help that he continued to fuck you the way he did, continued to let his friends fuck you…”

“Stop.” I whisper, bringing my hands up to hide my face, to hide my shame.

It might have been years ago now, but those memories still feel so raw, those moments still in so many ways feel like they happened only yesterday.

I wish they were gone. I wish all of it were erased from my memory.

I’d rather have great big gaps, great big moments of nothing than be living with all the still in my head.

I can feel Devin watching me, I can feel his eyes on me. “It can be fixed.” He says softly, more softly than it feels is possible from a brute like him. “Want to know how?”

I shake my head, feeling like the walls are collapsing in on me, that all of this is suddenly too much. This entire conversation is too intimate, too personal, Devin, in so many ways, still feels like the enemy.

And then a wave of something, a tsunami of pure pleasure explodes inside me. I know he’s doing it, I know he’s found that spot, whatever it is, and I’m rolling, writhing, losing what little control I have as he plays my body exactly the way he wants.

“That’s how.” He says, as his fingers still, as I lay there, panting, heaving, beside him.

“Ho, how?” I breathe.

He plants what feels like a soft kiss on my forehead before he answers. “I just have to ease you into it, ensure you’re properly warmed up and ready for my cock.”

I don’t know what to say to that, I don’t how I’m meant to respond.

He starts peppering my body with kisses and then he slides his finger out before he pushes himself into me, and I’ll admit, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel anything .

“Fuck,” He groans. “It feels even better to have your cunt dripping.”

I let out a deep moan, all but agreeing with him. He’s right, it does feel better. It feels incredible.

My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and for the first time in my life I don’t feel out of my depth, I don’t feel out of control. I feel wanted, I feel desirable in a way that isn’t shameful, that isn’t degrading.

Maybe it’s the afterglow, the effects of already coming on his fingers too. Whatever it is, I’m a desperate, needy whore for him, just as he says I am.

Devin leans over, peppering my skin, peppering my scars with the lightest of kisses. But I swear he’s holding back, that he’s still treating me like I’m fragile, like I’m breakable, like I’m a victim he has to manage with kid-gloves.

“Bite them,” I gasp.

He stills, and I’m certain those deadly eyes fix on my face. “You don’t mean that.” He replies.

I let out a laugh that sounds as desperate as I feel. “Yes, I do.” I state. “I’m not that scared girl I was before. It’s been five years, Devin, five fucking years. You think I haven’t learnt since then, you think I haven’t realised…”

“Realised what?” He half-snarls, like I’ve insulted him.

“That the pain is good, the pain is necessary.”

“Paitlyn…”

I grit my teeth because this is not the kind of conversation I want to have right now, not while his dick is still buried in me, and yet, I’m done hiding, done swallowing my words, done being used by people too.

I want my needs to be met. I want my wants to be granted. I deserve it, by God, I bloody well deserve it.

“I learnt, Devin.” I snap back. “I evolved, I twisted. Guthrie thought he was beating me, thought all that torture would ruin me. Only, I learnt to take it, to crave it, to turn what he wanted to be a punishment into the complete opposite. That bastard was never going to beat me. I made sure of it.”

“You like the pain?” He says, sounding still so disbelieving.

“I like it.” I say. “I want it. I need it. When all you have is darkness, the pain proves you’re alive. The pain proves you’re still human.”

As if in answer he rolls his hips and he slams himself into me.

My hand finds his throat, I squeeze enough to ensure he feels it. “You like it too, Devin. You like delivering pain, inflicting it. So don’t hold back on me, give me everything you have, every fucked-up part of you. I can handle it. I can take it. And I know you want it as much as me.”

It feels like I’ve lit a match, like I’ve finally set this man free, undone his chains and ordered him to do his very worst. His hands tighten around my body, his mouth captures mine and he kisses me more savagely than I thought could be possible.

I can taste my blood as my lip splits, I can taste it on my tongue, on his, on both of ours.

It feels so decadent, it feels like the finest champagne that we’re both savouring together.

I arch my back, taking each brutal thrust as he fucks me mercilessly and the pain and pleasure mingle together in such a way that I swear I’m hallucinating.

“Devin,” I scream into his mouth, I cry out, I sing.

I feel like I’m on fire, I feel like I’m combusting, burning in sin, burning in the very depths of hell, and Devin is my very own demon, spurring me on, ensuring all of my damnation is complete.