Page 59 of Depravity

He all but drags me into a room. It’s big, but relatively sparse. There’s a bed, a TV, and only one sideboard. It feels like a panic room. The walls are lacking all the finery that the rest of this house displays, and that makes me pause. Where the fuck are we? It can’t be a holding cell, there wouldn’t be this much furniture. But what else is it?

“Lay down.” He orders.

I turn, giving him an alarmed look and he just clicks his fingers, expecting me to be obedient.

When he realises I won’t, he picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. As I bounce on the mattress he grabs my ankles, securing them against the frame with cold metal chains.

“What are you doing?” I scream.

He ignores me, ignores my hands too as I try to slap him, and he binds them up so that I’m spread eagled.

Leaning down, he plants what could almost be a chaste kiss to my lips. As if he can’t contain himself, he runs his hands over my body, over my breasts. I shut my eyes, praying that whatever the fuck this is, it passes quickly.

When the bed moves enough to tell me he’s gotten back up, I look around and he’s there, holding something up.

“What, what is that?” I shouldn’t ask. It shouldn’t matter. I already know that whatever the fuck it is, he’s going to use it on me.

His lips curl. “It’s a toy. A sex toy.”

“But, but those are forbidden.” I state. The Brethren are very implicit about what and what is not allowed and things like that?Toys and such, are a sin. To use them is blasphemous. To use them is to anger God.

He chuckles as if I’m a stupid little girl who knows nothing. “We only teach those things so you girls remain chaste. No one wants a wife who’s already fucked herself senseless with a dildo before he’s even gotten her to the altar.”

“But it’s forbidden.” I state again as he brings that thing nearer to me, and I start to panic even more.

I know it is. I’ve spent years at school having that fact drilled into me.

“Relax, Brynn. Let your husband teach you what pleasure is.”

That’s forbidden too. Any form of female pleasure. Any form of female gratification. We’re meant to be vessels. We’re meant to be passive. We’re meant to take what our husbands give, purely for the purposes of bearing children.

The thing comes to life in his hands. It starts to vibrate, and I let out a gasp.

“Please don’t.” I beg. I don’t want it near me. I don’t want it touching me. I don’t want whatever this is.

He tuts, clearly growing frustrated. He pays me no heed and that bright pink thing is pushed against me, slid right up my pussy.

I freeze, hating the way it feels. Hating the way my body doesn’t exactly dislike it.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Conrad says, staring at my face.

“It’s forbidden.” I repeat again.

He shakes his head, bringing it back down before circling it right at the very top where it’s even worse. Even better. Jesus Christ.

My legs lock up, my body seems to forget everything, and I shut my eyes to try and pretend that I’m not here. But I can’t shut that feeling out. I can’t shut out how good it is.

My whole body feels alive in a way that doesn’t even make sense.

“Your cunt likes this, Brynn.” He taunts. “Tell me, have you ever touched yourself?”

I can’t answer that. I can’t form words. I simply shake my head because again, we both know that is not permitted. Masturbation is another sin.

He laughs louder, more cruelly. “Fuck, you’re perfect. I’m gonna turn you into my perfect little doll. My perfect little wife.”

“I don’t want that.” I gasp.

He presses that thing in and I gasp, losing myself once more in that hateful pleasure.

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