Page 11 of Depravity

The teacher flits between the tables, advising on technique. There’s thirty of us here, and she makes a point of focusing onher favourites, whispering into their ears about something she does that her husband apparently likes.

“This is such bullshit.”

My eyes dart to Clara and I flash a warning as best I can. She’s my best friend, my only friend. And she’s on very thin ice.

I pull off, feeling a trail saliva clinging to the rubber.

“Careful.” I murmur, my eyes darting around. We just need one girl, one of the bitchy ones to spot us.

“It is though.” Clara hisses, pushing her auburn hair back from her face. She’s plumper than me. With a great smattering of freckles on her cheeks. “This has nothing to do with actual marriage, does it?” She continues, narrowing her eyes.

I can’t answer that. It’s not like I have any experience of being married, but I do find it more than interesting that all the books I’ve read that are set in a school talk about things like biology, chemistry, history - and we’ve not learnt any of those topics.

We learn about the bible. About sins. And most of all, we learn every way we can please our husband, every way to pleasure him and ensure he is satisfied.

Self-pleasure might be a sin, lust absolutely is. But as Brethren Ladies, our role is to worship our husbands as if they were God incarnate. And that is what we spend the majority of our time learning to do.

“Clara Goldsmith.”

We all freeze at the sound of his voice. Erasmus Jude. The headmaster.

I don’t know when he came into the room, when he showed up, but my heart seems to pound in my chest and my face heats with the shame at what he did to me barely an hour ago.

“Is there a problem, Professor Jude?” Ms Doone asks, and we can all hear the nervousness in her voice too. Oh, we know he’s not above beating the staff either, that his punishments don’t just extend to the pupils. No, he rules us all, rules every singleone of us as if he were a tyrant and this is his personal torture chamber.

“Ms Goldsmith here clearly thinks making idle gossip is worth more than learning how to please her husband.” He states, folding his arms over his chest.

“I, I, please…” Clara begins before she hangs her head in silence.

“You think you know so much,” Professor Jude sneers, “why don’t you come up front and demonstrate to the whole class?”

My breath hitches. I can’t even look at her as she’s all but dragged to the front.

If she were a legacy family, if her name meant something, then she wouldn’t have to endure what she’s about to. No one would dare treat me the way they treat her. Oh sure, I get a beating often enough, but no one would abuse me in a way that would harm my reputation. Nobody would abuse me in a way that would affect my marriage prospects.

No, my family might hate everything about me, but I still have worth. I still have to be kept pure.

Clara is not so lucky. Sure, they can’t cross certain lines, but Professor Jude likes to single her out, likes to pull her aside for any punishment he thinks he can get away with.

He’s a bastard. A nasty piece of work. What I wouldn’t give to pick this awful bit of wood and launch it at his head and crack his skull right open.

But I don’t dare.

I just hang my own head, clench my fists and try to block out the sounds as she’s forced to ‘show off’ her skills while he holds a model, right there, over where his real cock is.

“Come on,” He growls as he rams the thing down her throat. “We all know you can suck it better than that.”

He grabs at her hair, forcing her to take more, to swallow all of it, while he rocks his hips.

She starts grasping, scratching at the air. Her face turns red, too red.

“She’s choking.” I scream, getting to my feet. He’s going to kill her.

Professor Jude rolls his eyes like I’m the one overreacting here. “Sit down, Brynn, maybe you could learn a thing if you paid attention for a change.”

I take a step forward and Ms Doone is there, grabbing my arm. “Don’t even think about it.”

“He’s suffocating her.” I hiss.

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