Page 24 of Degradation
I want to ask him to wait. I want to ask him to let me have just this night to recover, but that didn’t go well last time, did it? I fumble my hands together, bringing them up over my breasts. I don’t even realise I’m doing it until Gunther glares at me. Does he think this is some sort of protest? Some attempt to disobey him? I’m quick to drop them, quick to lie still but the damage is done. I can see that. I’ve fucked up again.
Gunther clicks his fingers, “Come here, hold her arms. Hold her still.” He orders as if my mother were a slave.
Noooo.I want to scream it, but I don’t dare.
I just lie there, mute, paralysed by fear or shame or all the other emotions that are swirling inside me. My mother clambersonto the bed by the pillows, following the further orders my husband is now barking out.
She takes my hands, holding me so my arms are now up above my head.
Gunther grabs my thighs pushing my legs wide enough apart that he can lay between them. I can’t look at him. I can’t look at either of them so I stare up at the ceiling, at that pure white ceiling, praying that this will be over, that all of this will just be done, and I never have to remember how this night ended.
I flinch as he drags a finger down between my labia.
“You look sore,” He comments, as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it.
“New brides are always sore.” My mother says.
Gunther glares up at her, “Be quiet.” He snaps. “If I want you to speak, I will ask for it.”
I tense more, hearing the anger in his voice. Is he going to hurt me more? Oh god, he is, isn’t he. A tear slips down my cheek and I don’t dare move, don’t even try to hide it for fear he will turn that anger onto me.
“I was brutal with you earlier,” He states, “I had to be, I had to make a point.”
I don’t know how to respond, I don’t know what to say, if I’m even allowed to speak. What point did he have to make that would justify what he did?
“Do you want me to be gentle with you now?” He asks sounding suddenly so sincere.
I nod quickly. I don’t know what he means by gentle but I sure as hell don’t want the same treatment he gave me back in the Cathedral.
He blinks, staring at me a moment longer and then he pushes something into me. I bite my tongue, bite down the cry as I realise it’s his finger. He slides a second inside and the painincreases as it feels like he’s trying to feel my insides, feel all the damage he did.
“Does this hurt?” He asks.
“A, a little,” I whisper. I don’t want to admit that it hurts like hell. I don’t want to piss him off more.
He grunts, pushing deeper, stretching me in a way that feels like literal torture. More tears start to stream from my eyes. I clench my fists, forcing myself to be still. Maybe this is a test, maybe this is just another ritual that I need to endure and then afterwards it will all be okay.
“Such a tight cunt,” He comments but not to me, not to my mother either, he says it so quietly, as if he’s talking to himself.
He forces another finger in, a third, and I yelp. If this is gentle, I don’t want to think about what would not be. He starts thrusts, sliding his fingers in and out, only it doesn’t feel like sliding at all. I’m not wet, I’m not in the slightest bit aroused by this and it feels like he’s sanding away my flesh, wearing it down from how much burning there is.
“Please,” I gasp, my voice shaking.
He looks up at me, that same glint in his eye that he had back in the cathedral. “You are here to be used, wife. To be enjoyed as I see fit. That is your purpose. That is your reason for existence. It doesn’t matter if you want me to be gentle, it doesn’t matter what you want. Your wants mean nothing to me. You as a person mean nothing. You are a vessel, a cunt to fuck and womb to fill, do you understand?”
I nod, I nod so quickly but it’s not enough. I can see it, I can feel it from the way he’s now brutalising me with his hand.
He pulls out suddenly, giving me a moment of reprieve and then he’s getting onto his knees, pulling my legs up, angling my body and I can see his cock, I can see how red it is, how hard it is now. Was it the pain that got him off? Was that what he neededto get excited? He meets my gaze as his hand takes hold of it and he shoves himself into me, shoves himself all the way.
I scream again. I scream so loudly. Searing pain burns my insides as he works his cock in as deep as it’ll go. My mother tries to soothe me, but it feels like a repeat of the Cathedral. Nothing about this feels normal.
He starts grunting, bucking, fucking me as my mother holds my hands. But I can feel from the way she’s squeezing that she’s trying to send me a message. Only, I don’t know what it is. Is she telling me to relax? Is she trying to comfort me? Or is she just as angry and ashamed by this as I feel?
“Wives are to obey.” Gunther states. “Wives are nothing but a cunt to fuck.” He sounds deranged, he sounds like he’s about to start breaking out into a tirade. “Say it.” He orders. “Say it.”
“Wa, wives are to obey.” I say quickly.
He snarls, shaking his head, plunging his dick so hard into me I shriek again. “Both of you, both of you say it. You’re a cunt to fuck.”
