Page 48 of Degradation
“You were meant to be pure. To be untouched. Your mother told me you were a virgin and yet you’ve been fucking yourself with these?” His face is growing redder and redder.
What on earth is he talking about? What has my virginity got to do with how I manage a period?
He smacks me, smacks me so hard. Stars explode behind my eyes for a moment and it feels like something in me snaps.
It’s stupid to do it, so damned stupid but I’m not thinking straight anymore. I spring up and I’m running, I’m running so fast.
I have to get out of here. I have to get away from him.
I glance over my shoulder, expecting him to be right on my heels but he’s just stood there staring at me.
And then I slam into something hard. Something solid. Something so damned impossibly big.
No. No. Noooo.
It’s him. The Blake guard. He grabs my arms, grabs me and he’s walking me backwards, forcing me into the room.
“Please.” I beg. “Please let me go.”
He doesn’t even react. It’s like he’s made of stone. Like he doesn’t feel any emotions. Doesn’t know what things like empathy and mercy even are.
I’m dumped back. Dropped at my husband’s feet.
He’s still holding that tampon up as if it’s a sign of the devil.
“You lied to me.” He spits. “You fucking lied.”
He rams the tampon into my mouth. It’s disgusting. I can taste it, I can feel it, my blood, the weird sodden cotton pad as it clings to my tongue. I don’t get time to spit it out before he starts landing blows. Kicking. Punching, biting me too.
I curl up. I try to protect my face, but the blows keep coming. They just keep coming until everything, all the pain, all the fury, all the shame too disappears into darkness. Into nothing.
Devin
Icarry her out.
The girl’s face is so swollen, her pretty features are barely recognisable. There’s a trail of blood from her mouth that I know has nothing to do with the damned thing he rammed into it.
She’s lighter than I imagined. She feels different too. Not weaker, not stronger… just different.
Gunther is still raging, he’s still having his tantrum and unfortunately for the slaves, there’s still eleven of the fuckers still in there for him to sate his anger out on. I doubt my brother will be getting any of them returned when this party is over.
The girl whimpers in my arms. It’s a pathetic noise.
I glance down at her and I wonder if she’s done it on purpose, if she thinks it’ll make me feel guilt or some such nonsense for dragging her back in there. As if that wasn’t my job. As if I would risk my life and my family’s reputation for her.
The priest is behind us. I’m too big a man for him fit beside me and anyway, I know where I’m going despite his attempts to tell me otherwise.
We walk out across a courtyard, out past the pretty formal gardens and the fancy smelling roses that have all started to turn brown.
A guard is stood in front of a wooden gate and as I approach, he unlocks it without a word.
I walk through, taking note of the sentries all along the fortifications. They call this place a Palace, but this part is far older, and it resembles more of a medieval military compound than a place of luxury.
Ahead, I can see the shack. It’s small. Weatherbeaten.
Another guard opens it for me, and I carry the girl in before placing her down for a moment. There’s a set of chains attached to the trestle in the roof. It takes me a moment to pull the thing loose and then I’m picking her up, placing her wrists in the shackles. Locking them in place.
I know the priest is watching. I know Gunther sent him here to ensure I see her suitably punished but for a second I don’t give a fuck about him. About the Chapter Lord either. About any of it.
