Page 90 of Depravity

Her cheeks are flushed, and though that could be from shame, I wonder if part of that is from her practically asphyxiating.

We walk in silence back to her room. When I open the door, I tell her to take her dress off and lie on the bed. There’s a flicker there, a moment of hesitation that tells me that my wife is still going to be a problem, but she does it. She slides that rich fabric down her skin and then lies down, staring at the ceiling.

I stand there, watching her for a moment. Even at points like this, when she makes me so mad I can’t even think straight, I still want her. I still need her more than any other woman.

I let out a sigh, shutting the door, going to get the things I need. She won’t like this. She won’t like any of what I have planned, but ultimately I’ll win this round, just like I win all of them.

When I walk back in I half expect her to be gone, to be up, to have disobeyed me. It makes me pause to see her there, lying in that exact same position, as if she hasn’t dared to move a muscle.

“I see you’re finally learning.” I mutter.

She doesn’t look at me. She just carries on staring at the ceiling. Perhaps this is her plan now, the silent treatment. My lips curl, because I’d rather her silent and sullen than openly defying me, so I guess this is a win.

I place the blow torch and the antique down on the side. In my hand, I keep the syringe and she chooses that exact moment to look down, to see it.

“No…” She whimpers.

“It’s not going to hurt,” I tut.

“Conrad, please…” God, it makes my cock twitch when she says my name, when she begs me. Even if she’s not begging me for something nice, it still does something to me.

I clamber onto the bed. She tries to move, to get away, and I yank her back.

“Trust me, Brynn.” I say.

“I don’t, I don’t trust you at all,” She cries.

“If I don’t sedate you, it’ll hurt more. Do you want that? More pain?”

Her eyes dart to the blowtorch and she clearly panics more. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t…” I don’t know what she thinks I’m planning. Does she think I’m going to burn her eyes out? Burn her face off? What would be the point in that? No one wants to fuck an ugly wife, do they?

I let out a growl, grabbing her by her throat and I pin her down before jabbing the needle into her neck, sinking the plunger.

“Sleep, wife,” I say, like she has any choice. “Sleep and when you wake, you’ll have such a lovely surprise.”

Her feet kick out, her eyes continue to plead for a few more seconds and then her pupils dilate, she calms, she relaxes and then she passes out entirely.

I get off her, grab the blowtorch and the brand, immediately starting to heat it up. I know I contemplated doing this before, but tonight, tonight it feels necessary.

I want to mark her in a way that is permanent. I want to mark her in a way that she cannot remove.

But more than that, I want Magnus to see her next time. I want Liliana to see it, I want every fucking person to see it and know what it means. Magnus thinks his wife is so fucking special, that he’s allowed to break the rules but because he doesn’t see how precious my wife is, I’m not allowed to do the same?

From now on, I want him to look at her and know that she means as much to me as that whore.

The metal takes a good while to heat. It doesn’t help that the flame isn’t that big, but patience is a virtue and I’m more than happy to wait for this one.

When it’s finally ready, I toss the torch, barely caring if it burns a hole in the carpet.

I want this to be perfect, I want to turn her into a work of art. Afterall, she’ll carry this for the rest of her life.

I clamber over her body, making sure it is perfectly straight and then in one quick movement I press the thing into her chest. Right above her cleavage. It burns. It actually hisses. I can see a bit of smoke coming off, and the unpleasant stench of burning flesh makes my nose wrinkle. I’m not sure how long it needs to be on there, but I want to make sure every little bit of my family’s crest is visible.

Liliana’s brand wasn’t done with such precision. When I look at it, I can see it’s a tiny bit off centre. That not all of the detail came through.

My wife will suffer no such insult.

I pull it off, seeing the bright red, bloodied and blistered flesh all moulded around and forced to take on the shape of two lions and a shield. Fuck, it’s magnificent. It’s even better than I imagined.

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