Page 68 of Depravity

He carries me, dumping me onto the bed. The weight of my own body makes it hard to breathe.

I think he’s going to fuck me now, to keep me like this. Bound up and ready to receive him in whichever hole takes his fancy.

Only, he doesn’t. He disappears off, then comes back with a bowl.

My eyes widen when I realise what he’s doing. Normally it’s the maids who wash me. Who shave me. It’s humiliating enough for them to do it, but to have Conrad up that close and personal… hell, who am I kidding? He’s seen every inch of me, pretty much abused every bit he can lay a hand on. What difference does it make if he’s the one shaving me?

But it does. In my desperate, twisted mind, this feels so much more humiliating to lay there, to lay still while he’s running a blade over my most intimate parts. While he’s prepping me for what will undoubtedly be another attempt to get me pregnant.

He’s gentle at least, I can give him that. He doesn’t cut me once.

When he presses his fingers to spread my arse cheeks widen, I protest, earning another hard slap.

Him shaving my arsehole is the worst. I thought him shaving my labia was bad, but this, it’s indescribable. It only means one thing; that he’s planning on fucking methereagain.

My stomach churns at the thought. Anal sex is the most forbidden of all the sins. I know God won’t forgive me for allowing myself to be used like that, for allowing myself to be continually used.

As he pours some lube onto my arse, I brace myself for it, forhim. Something heavy, something metal is slipped in. It hurts for a moment, and then it’s just more uncomfortable.

“You look so pretty,” Conrad says, pushing on it, jolting it enough to make me feel it move inside.

I don’t have a reply. I simply bury my head in the sheets and pray that I can just suffocate here, that I can have a massive heart attack and just go, just end it.

He leaves me there, bent over, held in the most uncomfortable of positions and he walks out, disappears againfor what feels like forever. When he comes back, I know hours have passed. My body is literally shaking from the pressure of the position it’s in.

He unties me without a comment then he pulls me to my feet, ignoring my whimpers of pain. Blood starts to flow back to my toes, to my fingers, to all the bits that went so horribly numb, and it’s like tiny needles stabbing all over me.

As I stand there, trembling, he pulls my hair up into a high ponytail and then starts lacing something else around my body. It’s lingerie, but nothing like what he’s put me in before. This stuff is latex, with thumb width straps that he wraps around, holding my flesh in place. He scoops it around my breasts, forcing them up and out, into a weird position. He then brings it down, across my stomach and around my back to where he loops it around both my thighs. When he gives it a good yank, all the slack disappears and with horror I can feel what it’s doing to my arse; how it’s spreading my cheeks, how it’s exposing me.

I don’t dare to question him, not with the look on his face, but he looks at me as if he’s daring me to.

He takes something new, something leather, and he locks it in place around my neck.

It’s a collar. He fucking collared me. It takes everything I have to bite my tongue, to hold back the hate I want to spew.

“So fucking pretty,” He taunts before fixing what can only be a damned leash to the collar.

He’s treating me like an animal. A fucking animal.

He gives it a yank and I whimper, moving my hands to try to help stop my neck from literally snapping in half.

“We’re going on a trip,” He says.

I swear the bottom of my stomach drops out. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave this place. It’s bad enough here, where the hell would he be taking me anyway?

And then it hits me; we’re going to the one place that is safe for him. The one other place where Conrad can do anything he wants without consequence.

My legs trembleas Conrad pulls me from the car.

The entire journey, we didn’t speak a word. I just stared out, seeing everything I’d never be able to experience flashing by.

When we pull up, I stare at the massive building ahead while I try so hard not to puke.

Security waved us through and those blood red walls get closer and closer. The place is like a fortress. No, not a fortress, a prison.

“No,” I gasp the word as the cold air swirls around me. I’m wearing a shirt, one of Conrad’s. I know he’s only let me cover myself so that none of the guards will see his wife naked.

But inside? I know that all changes, because why else would he have me more trussed up than a Sunday roast.

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