Page 28 of Degradation
I can taste it. I can smell it. I think I even have it in my eyes. I’m drenched in it and the stench of ammonia makes me physically gag.
When he’s finally finished, he gives me one final hard kick and then he walks out leaving me here.
I get in the shower,wash it all over, scrub at my skin as if that might rid me of the smell but nothing, none of the fancy soaps or products, seem to have any effect. Maybe it’s in my head. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear it’s not water raining down on me.
When I hear movement in the room, I freeze, so fearful he’s back, that he’ll punish me now for not staying put. Or will he punish me for not being ready for him again? God, I can’t win.
My legs give way, I sink onto the tiles, and I can’t keep the wail in despite bringing my hands up and stuffing them into my mouth in some desperate attempt to do so.
The door opens, I look up, feeling my heart slam into my chest but it’s only the maid. She stares at me for a second before she grabs a towel and turns the shower off.
“You’re okay.” She says so kindly.
I shake my head. I’m not. I’m so far from okay right now and I don’t know how to fix this. How to fix any of this.
“Come on, let’s get you dry.” She says, gently pulling me out, wrapping the towel around me and then slowly drying me off.
I try to help, I try to walk, but it’s like my body won’t respond properly. She all but carries me back into the room, grabbing some pyjamas for me to put on.
I fumble with the shorts, the fabric catching on my feet and she catches me quickly to stop me from falling over and landing on my arse. When the top is on, she disappears off and comes back with a mug of hot chocolate.
I grip the drink so tightly, feeling like I need its warmth to soothe my very soul.
“Drink.” She says. “It’ll help calm you down.”
“Nothing, nothing helps.” I stammer, though I know that’s not exactly true. One thing will help me, one significant thing; my husband no longer being my husband. Only, that’s impossible.
“I’m sorry.” She replies. “He, he’s not a nice man.”
Yeah, you can say that again. I just don’t understand why someone would be a cruel, as unnecessarily violent as he has been. If I’d done something, if I’d offended him, then fine, but I haven’t. I know I haven’t.
“He…” I pause, worried about saying it, about admitting it out loud but then, what choice do I have? I can’t improve my situation if I stay here, simply taking the blows. Not that I expect her to be able to do anything about it. “He can’t get hard.” I state.
She blinks at me and my cheeks burn with the shame.
“I don’t know if it’s his age or…”
“I’ve heard the rumours.” She says flatly.
“What rumours?” God, what is everyone saying about him? Is this common knowledge?
She tilts her head, glancing at the door and then back at me as if she wants to make sure she isn’t about to get caught saying something she shouldn’t. “He used to have slaves brought here. Used to enjoy them a lot. The last time it happened though…” She gulps.
“What?”
She draws in a breath. “I don’t know the exact details, but I know he killed them, killed all of them. He said they were poisoning him. That they’d done something to him. A doctor was called for, but he wasn’t sick. The rumour is, he was impotent, and instead of seeing it as his failure, he blamed them.”
I stare back at her for a second as it registers that that’s exactly what he did with me. He blamed me.
“Oh god.” I wail, as if feels like my entire world comes down on me. There’s no fix for this.
She leans in close, her voice a whisper. “I can help if you want. I can slip something into his food. A little something to stimulate him, if you know what I mean. It will make sure he can perform his duties as a husband.”
I shake my head, my stomach churning at the thought. “I can’t, I can’t do that. It’s wrong. It’s a sin.”
The maid’s expression softens, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I understand. But you must think of your own safety. If he can’t get it up, he’ll only grow angrier, he’ll only hurt you more. This is the lesser of two evils, is it not?”
I know she’s right, but the thought of drugging my husband, of ensuring he has the means to fuck me whenever he wants, it makes me sick to my stomach.
