Page 19 of Depravity

I don’t know what that means. What any of it means.

I’m pulled about, my legs forced into the black lace thong and then I’m rolled over as something is done up over my breasts.

More material is then shoved over my head, shoved onto me. But it’s not covering, it’s not covering at all. I feel like my entire legs are exposed, that my cleavage is exposed.

Panic floods my body. I try to scream, but no noise comes out.

I’m yanked up, dragged by my arms, with my legs scraping the floor.

“Let’s get this bitch in place,” Milena says as they pull me from my room.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be wherever the hell it is they’re taking me.

But my body won’t respond and I’m dragged down, passing all those paintings, and into a room I don’t recognise.

I’m dumped onto a bed. Milena takes my legs, spreading them wide while Giselle leans down, staring once more into my face.

“How does it feel now huh?” She says, “How does it feel to know you can’t do anything to stop this?”

I don’t even know what ‘this’ is? What is she talking about?

My eyes dart between her and her friend. Apparently, that’s the only part of my body that will respond.

Giselle slaps me again, slaps me hard. “Stupid little whore,” She sneers, “Tonight, you’re gonna learn. Tonight, you’re finally going to get what’s coming to you.”

I try to shake my head, I try to lift my arms. I try to fight, and nothing happens. Nothing.

They both move back, standing there laughing at me, and then Milena tells Giselle that she needs to get ready.

As they turn to go, my aunt looks back at me and tells me I’m a whore just like my mother, before she slams the door shut and I’m left there, in the darkness, in my fear, unable to do a thing to stop whatever this is.

Ican hear the noise of the party, the music, the laughter of all the people that will make this evening with my fiancée just about bearable. Only, instead of joining them, she guides me away from the fun and up the stairs to where the house feels far too quiet.

Surely, she can’t be angling for me to fuck her before our wedding night? Because she knows what would happen then, that I’d have proof of her impurity, that I could shirk her off, and there’d be nothing she could do to stop me.

I wrinkle my nose, trying to decide whether fucking her now would be worth the freedom. One moment of sacrifice to give me a lifetime of freedom from her? I guess when you put it like that, it could be worth it.

And besides, I can close my eyes. I can imagine that it’s someone else, someone I want, someone desirable. Cunts all feel the same anyway. Although I imagine this bitch makes enough noise for me to know exactly who I’m balls deep in.

She stops in front of a door, opening it wide enough for me to get a good look inside, and my eyes widen as I see who is there.

Brynn is laid on the bed, her limbs splayed as if someone has deliberately positioned her in the most vulnerable way they can.

I take a step forward, frowning in confusion while my thoughts whirl.

Why would my fiancée of all people bring me in here? What possible gain could she have from this?

Giselle’s hands wrap around me, those tentacle-like nails skimming down my shirt. “I thought we could make a deal.” she murmurs into my ear.

“What deal?” I grunt back while it takes everything I have not to shake her off.

She turns me around, and it’s only because I need to stop looking at her niece like that, that I allow her to do it. As she reaches up and cups my face, she smiles sincerely.

“We are engaged, soon enough we will be husband and wife. Let’s not pretend that this is a love match yet but it will be, once you realise what we can have, how we can be. The true potential of it all…”

“What are you talking about?” I snap. Patience has never been a family trait and it certainly isn’t one I’ve learnt over the years, not with Magnus as a brother, not with Devin either.

“You want her.” She says, glancing at the lifeless girl over my shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you watch her, the way you react. It’s okay…” she says, planting a finger on my lips as if I was going to deign such a declaration with any kind of meaningful response. “You can have her, you can have whoever you want. That’s the point. That’s what I’m offering. I’m a Monclere, you’rea Blake, together we can have greatness and that’s my offer to you, my wedding gift.”

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