Page 69 of Depravity

“Please…”

I don’t know why I’m begging, it’s not like he’s ever listened to me. But I know Conrad’s abuses are far better than what I will suffer within those walls.

“Come on, wife.” He says, yanking on the leash, dragging me along like an actual dog.

I don’t want to. I don’t want to go anywhere near that place.

The building might be soundproofed so you can’t hear it, but I swear there’s a ringing like the very pits of hell are beneath us.

And that is exactly what this place is, what it’s intended to be. Literal hell on earth.

The devil’s playground.

Somewhere the Lords can come and indulge their worst desires, and somewhere horrific enough to ensure the rest of us follow the rules without question.

“Conrad.”

He barely even looks at me, as I murmur his name. And he certainly doesn’t slow his pace.

I know I’m making a pitiful, whimpering sound as I’m dragged inside.

The temperature is barely warmer than outside, and my skin erupts in goosebumps. Conrad leads me into a room where there’s a small table and little else.

He picks up the masks from the top and places the black one on my face. It only really covers my eyes. My nose and lips peek out, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’m no longer a person, no longer human.

Conrad then strips off the shirt I’m wearing, exposing that awful latex strapping that covers me.

He tilts his head, thumbing my nipples, playing with my body while I shiver and whimper.

“None of that,” He says. “You’re not a slave here, wife.”

“I’m as good as,” I hiss back. Because that’s how I feel, what he’s made me into. His sex slave. His disgusting little toy.

His lips curl and he brushes his thumb over my core, as if he has a right to touch me. “Act like a slave and in here, they’ll treat you like one. Act like a Master, a Lord, and well…” His thumb pushes into me, and it’s almost lazily that he thrusts.

I gulp, already knowing that whatever the fuck he has planned, today is going to be especially bad.

But there is something telling in what he just said. Apparently, he’s not here to wash his hands of me, to hand me over. No, I’m not coming here to serve a sentence. I’m coming here as his wife – though I’m not sure that makes it any better.

He pulls his hand away, sucking the digit like it’s now covered in the finest of sauces. Then he undoes his tie, unbuttons his shirt and removes his clothes. He places them neatly onto the table, and a servant who I barely noticed steps out from the shadows and begins folding them so they won’t crease. He then picks up some long black robes, throwing them over his shoulders like he’s some sort of Roman god in a fancy tunic, and he places his own mask over his face. His too is black, and it also leaves his nose and mouth free.

He’s wearing nothing else. All his tattoos, all those forbidden pieces of art are on display, like it doesn’t even matter that he broke those rules. His impressive body is practically glowing in the soft lighting and his dick hangs down, semi-hard while I do everything I can to ignore it.

He grabs the leash around my neck, giving it such a hard yank that I fall to my knees.

“Let’s go,” He says, striding off.

I try to stand, I try to get up but as I do it, he turns and uses the end not attached to me to whip me around the head.

“Get back on your knees.” He states.

I blink up at him. What the fuck? He said I’m to act like a Master here, and yet he wants me to what, to crawl?

He crouches down, cupping my cheek and his eyes glisten with amusement. “You’re not a slave today, wife. But you are still my pet. My toy. You’ll crawl on your knees, you’ll cry and you’ll beg. You’ll do whatever I want, because that will give me pleasure. Do you understand?”

I gulp, and bile turns in my stomach. The floor is hard, cold, unforgiving. There’s some plastic surface covering it, which no doubt makes it nice to wipe clean for hygiene reasons. There’s a faint smell of bleach here. Did they have to scrub this place down, is that a regular thing? Washing away the blood, and the other bodily fluids?

I shudder with revulsion, and Conrad gives my leash another sharp tug to get my attention back.

---