Page 42 of Deviant

In a way, I should be grateful for that. Grateful for the bath I’m given too. It’s hot, comforting. So much of me wants to give into the heat, slide into the water and pretend, but I can’t because my mind is already focused on what’s coming next.

The maids scrub at my skin, gently erasing all the smears of blood and grime. They exfoliate, they massage, it almost feels like I am at a spa. One holds my arm up while the other shaves me. Then they do the other armpit.

When it comes to my legs, I wobble, and I’m forced to lean on one while the other makes sure I’m presentable.

I shut my eyes when they start waxing my pussy. Every strip they pull off makes me jolt, but the pain is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. I don’t doubt they can see all the bruising, all the cuts, the way I’m swollen from all the abuse I’ve suffered, but they don’t say a word. They just carefully manoeuvre my labia around as if this is all perfectly normal.

And then they help me out, rub the softest towel I have ever felt against my skin and work moisturiser into my skin. It stings like hell when it gets into the bite that Magnus gave me, but I need that pain. I need that hit of reality because I’m so close to shutting my eyes and pretending, giving into the illusion of what this is.

But even this tiny bit of peace is quickly erased. I’m forced down, pinned down, and something is inserted into my arse. I scream out, trying to stop whatever the fuck they’re now doing, butthey don’t stop, they just hold me there, keeping one arm twisted behind me in a pressure position to make me obedient.

Water or fluid or something is forced into my arsehole. I hate the feel of it, I hate the indignity, and I don’t want to dwell on what the fuck this might mean. On and on they fill me up. It’s uncomfortable, it’s completely degrading, but there’s nothing I can do but lay here and endure it.

When they finally drag me over to a toilet, I’m so grateful to be able to get it all out that I don’t even care that they’re witnessing this, witnessing another level of my degradation.

They fix a collar around my neck, securing it with a buckle—one exactly like the thing a dog would wear. I gulp, feeling my throat push against the tightness of the leather, but I barely get a moment to come to terms with it before the door is opened and Magnus is there, holding his hand as if I’d willingly take it.

Perhaps he sees it on my face, perhaps he has more sense than that because he walks in, grabs my arm, and takes away any last of my limited freedom.

“We’re going to try a new game, Liliana.” he states, dragging me down the corridor and up the steps. “Let’s see how long you dare to defy me now.”

I don’t know how to respond, but that fear grows at what awful thing he now has planned. Hasn’t he done enough? Hasn’t he hurt me enough? Christ, when will this end?

He tightens his grip, hauling me along, and my feet fumble, my toes slam into the stone forcing me to bite my lip to hide the noise.

Outside, I’m all but hurled into the back of a van.

For a second my heart leaps, is this it? Has he decided he’s done with me now? Am I’m being driven to some discreet place, to be disposed of and buried in a shallow grave?

The journey seems to take forever, the roads feel windy, uneven, all signs that this is the end. That I am being driven to mydeath. I only pray that it isn’t too painful. That whatever my end is, it’s fast and efficient.

But that voice in my head tells me that this isn’t what’s happening. I’m not going to be executed. I’m going to be hurt. He wouldn’t have me cleaned up simply to do away with me.

No, wherever the fuck we’re headed, Magnus has something truly horrific planned.

My eyes dartacross the building in front of me. The walls are high, imposing, and I can’t see a single window. The way the light hits the brickwork makes them look as though they’re actually bleeding. Who the fuck would want a building like this?

“What is this place?” I ask, even with all I know about the Brethren I’ve never heard any mention about this.

“Oblivion.” Magnus says, as if that’s meant to mean something.

“Oblivion?” I repeat.

His lips curl. “This is where we bring our Lords and Ladies to be punished. This is where those who have offended the Brethren can do their penance before they’re allowed to return to the light.”

I gulp, not quite understanding why I wasn’t sent here, if that’s the case.

“Only those who are righteous can come here.” Magnus adds, answering that question for me, because I’m not righteous am I, I’m not Brethren. By their rules, I’m nothing. Nobody. I don’t get a chance at redemption. I’m not worthy of such a thing.

“Then what am I doing here?” I ask.

No one replies to that.

All the men around us keep their eyes ahead like they’re expecting something to go down. As though this place is not fully under their control.

My heart picks up a beat. My breath starts to turn ragged. I know Magnus has a certain level of power, but if this place is whathe described, what’s to stop those held here from rioting, from rising up, from taking over?

Inside, it’s even more foreboding. Dark corridors and dark rooms. All I can hear is the heavy beat of some awful music but filtering through is the sounds of cries, screams, and the unmistakable sound of people fucking. Grunts, groans, sounds of people trying to fight, it’s like we’ve arrived in the very pits of hell.

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