Page 51 of Depravity

Some days work is easy, entertaining even. Some days, it’s sheer monotony.

The slave dips her head, acknowledging his words without a show of emotion and she raises the whip up, striking hard against another slave’s back.

We all hear the crack. The hiss. The sound of flesh ripping apart.

It’s a good technique, having them torture and train one another. It ensures there are no friendships, no alliances. They get rewarded for reporting on one another. They get punished arbitrarily to keep them on their toes.

We’ve never had an uprising here, never had a rebellion. New stock is brought in, separated into temporary and permanent and then we condition them, we teach them, we give them all the skills necessary to please our Brethren Lords. Of course, even if they follow the rules, even if they’re the best slave alive it won’t guarantee them an easy life, a pain-free one. They exist now for the whims of the free. Their every breath must be to grant our desires, our wants, not theirs.

The exercise hall is packed. Enough of them are obedient enough to be left alone, but we always make an example of the new starters, put them in the middle. It’s more degrading that way, more amusing to watch how they shy away, how they try tohide, because they haven’t yet accepted the fact that their bodies belong to us now. Decency doesn’t exist within these hallowed walls.

To the side, we keep the cages. Where our most precious cargo is kept.

I glance over and see that same girl standing, wide-eyed and clearly terrified as she stares out.

“Are we all set?” I ask Dustin.

He looks over, seeing the five girls and two boys all in the cages. All individually chained up so they can’t get at one another, so they can’t spoil themselves before their big day.

“We’re all set,” He states.

The auction is tonight. Already the high levels are filling up, and I know more than a few Lords are standing behind the glass screens, getting a good look at the stock as we speak.

I stride across, coming to a stop before the Upshaw girl’s cage. She’s naked now, completely exposed. I can see her fat, chunky thighs, and her nice round belly. It makes a change from most of the starving ones we have here – I reckon we’ll get a fine price for her this evening.

She grits her teeth, visibly shaking when she realises who it is.

“What’s your name?” I ask. I could ask Dustin but it’s more fun to toy with her.

“Clara,” She snarls.

Silly bitch. I press the button on the top of her cage and she screams, grabbing the collar around her throat.

“What is your name?” I repeat again, emphasising each damned word.

She gasps, glaring up at me with such a look of hate. I let out a laugh, squatting down and reaching through the bars to grab her face, “You’re lucky I have a wife now,” I state, “Because if I didn’t, I’d take great delight in breaking you in,”

“Fuck you,” She spits, “You think I’m scared of you? You think I’m scared of any of you?”

I grab her nipple and I pinch hard, twisting it around as she screams. “You’re a whore,” I state. “If you’re not scared, then you’re a fool. By the end of tonight, you’ll no longer be fucked and be back for training. You’ll learn to ride as much cock as your mother is right this second. You’ll choke on it, you’ll beg for it, you’ll become an addict. Just like every other slave here…”

She sobs, shaking her head while I step back, sneering at what a pathetic excuse for a person she really is.

I turn to leave, wanting to wash my hands, wanting to remove the taint of another woman’s flesh.

The maid finds me. Still on the floor. Still lying in my urine.

If I had any self-respect left, I’d do something to cover myself, to move. It’s a moot point anyway, because I don’t have the strength.

She’s on her knees, brushing back my hair, showing her shocked expression as if she didn’t know Conrad was such a monster.

“What did he do?” She gasps.

I can’t reply, all I can do is whimper in pain. Did he break bones? Did he beat me so much that I’m now irrevocably damaged? What will he do if he’s broken my spine? If I’m now paralysed? Will he toss me aside, will he see me as useless and find a new wife?

No, I won’t be as lucky as that. Conrad won’t let me go. He’ll never let me go. Even if I was quadriplegic, I can see him still fucking me, still abusing me. Hell, he’d probably like that more because I’d be completely defenceless then.

The only way I’m escaping this man is in a coffin, though there’s a high chance he’ll be the one to put me in it.

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