Page 73 of Depravity

I can feel my tears sliding down my cheeks. I don’t want to understand. I don’t want to even be here.

“Why am I here?” I whisper.

His spare hand comes up to massage my right beast. I arch my back trying to pull away from his touch but all that results in me being pressed closer against his body.

“Like I said, we’re going to play. This is all part of your conditioning.”

Conditioning. He’s treating me just like these slaves, just like another piece of property. If I give in, if I bend, what willI become? Will I lose all rational thought? Will I no longer question what this is, and simply accept each brutal thing he does without complaint?

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” He says before pushing me forward. My feet struggle to get any grip, but it makes little difference as we move out of this hall into a new space.

She’s so soft. So kind.

I need to change that about her. I need to break that.

She needs to understand that our world is not soft or gentle, and that those who are get broken.

I don’t want my doll broken. I want her to live, to thrive. I just need to broaden her horizons, make her realise that my way is best.

I’m almost grateful to her little friend for giving us this opportunity, for making herself such a useful lesson.

She clings to me as I drag her further into the darkness.

I’ve been coming here to play since I was a teenager, since Magnus first allowed it. Of course he had strict rules to startwith. But once I turned eighteen, he made sure I understood exactly what this place was, and what our duty as a Blake was.

It seemed stupid not to enjoy the fruits of our labour, considering we gave our blood to maintain it. I could walk through this place blindfolded.

We come to a stop in a small playroom. While I enjoyed showing my wife off, I don’t like others to see her disobedience, and I know she’s going to resist this. She’s going to fight me every inch of the way.

As she sees the figures waiting, she takes a sharp intake of breath.

All of them are on their knees with their heads bowed, perfect examples of how a slave should greet their master.

Within seconds, the two guards bring a now bruised Clara in, and they force her to her knees beside the others. You can see where the livid bruising is streaking her arms. Well, that won’t be the only damage the girl receives. It’s a good thing she made such a nice price at auction, because her time at Oblivion is already coming to an end.

I release Brynn and she staggers, only just managing to stay on her feet.

“Each one of these represents a lesson.” I state. My doll whimpers, shaking her head but I continue anyway. “You see, obedience is the currency of survival. You would not wish to upset the balance, would you?”

She doesn’t reply beyond staring off at the slaves, as if she’s already begging their forgiveness for what’s about to happen.

I click my fingers and the first of them gets up, silently walking to us.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

“Sal, Master.” She says in a monotone, emotionless voice. Yes, this one has been trained well. We give them new names when they enter here. After all, they have new lives, don’t they?

I look at my wife, and she’s staring back at me.

“I want you to beat her.” I say, holding out a whip for her to take.

“Whaaat?” Brynn stammers.

“Beat her,” I repeat.

She stares at the whip like she has no idea how to use it so I grab her hand, forcing her fingers around the handle.

“She, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Brynn says.

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