Page 119 of Depravity

I didn’t have any choice when Conrad stole me away. When he married me.

I don’t have any choices here, do I?

I shake my head again, and try to lash out with the only part of my body that still works.

My father pins my arms over my head, his face so close to mine as Xavier rolls my dress up, exposing all of my most private parts.

“I don’t like fucking her with that brand on her,” He remarks. “That has to be fixed.”

“Fine, we’ll fix it.” My father replies.

Fix.

They have to fix me.

Xavier lets out another disgruntled huff, pulling my legs up, pulling them wide, and he moans about how he’s ‘having to do all the work here.’

“Your whores can ride you, my daughter is better than that.” My father says.

Better. I was meant to be better.

But this doesn’t make me better, does it? This doesn’t make me good?

“No,” I repeat again, “I married Conrad, I’m his wife,”

“Stupid fucking bitch,” Xavier snarls, getting right into my face, “This might be hard for you to understand seeing as you only have half a brain, but your marriage doesn’t count because it hasn’t been ratified by the Senate. That means, you’re fair fucking game. So you’re going to lie here, and you’re going to let me fuck you. You’re going to let me use you any way I decide, and once you’ve given me a few sons, then maybe you might have proved your worth…”

No, no children. I don’t want his children.

“…your father here is giving me permission. He’s a Founder, you’re a Founder, that means he can bend the rules. But you will lie here, and you will take my cock willingly, do you understand?”

He doesn’t give me a second to reply. He just rams himself into me.

It feels horrific, it hurts so much more than all the times Conrad forced himself onto me. I guess that’s because of all the damage I did to myself. I can feel my muscles refusing to move, I can feel those stitches catching with each brutal thrust.

“Be a good girl,” My father says, keeping his eyes fixed, not on my face, but where his friends is currently penetrating me, “Show your father how good you can be…”

I don’t want to be good. I don’t want to be this.

But my body responds all the same. I know it’s not technically my fault. I know on some level that Conrad made me like this, that he turned my body into this, but the way my pulse starts to beat faster, the way everything just thrums…

I start screaming, start trying to buck them off, but I’m too broken from the way Conrad smashed my spine to stand any chance of succeeding.

Xavier growls, “Shut that bitch up.”

And my father rams his hand over my mouth, telling me what a disappointment I am. What a terrible daughter I am too.

Where is she? Where is my wife?

I know this bitch has the answers. I know she’s behind this entire thing.

There’s a voice in my head telling me I should be more careful, that to go up against the Monclere’s in broad daylight is not only reckless, it’s suicidal.

And yet I don’t care.

I don’t give a fuck.

I kick the door in, storming through the entrance hall.

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