Page 90 of Degradation
I don’t know what makes me do it. I don’t know what stupidity takes over me, but I’m moving, snarling, pushing the bodies out the way.
She’s laying there on her back, her hands splayed like she been trying to fight them all off.
The minute I touch her, I know she knows it’s me. I can feel the way she reacts, the way her body trembles.
I grab her throat, forcing her flat onto the wood and I put my other hand where I have no right to touch. Where none of these bastards have any right to be.
“No…” She cries, as though I’d listen to her. As if I’d give a damn what she wants.
She arches her back, trying desperately to get away but there’s nowhere for her to go.
I tighten my grip around her throat, I increase the pressure of my thumb, circling, teasing, touching her in a manner none of these men would ever know how to.
Her legs kick out, her face starts to flush. I can feel it, I can hear it, her pitiful moans that she’s trying so hard to hide.
That’s it,Malkta. Let them know. Let them all see. Let them realise what you are, what this is, that only I know how to truly manipulate you, how to twist you, how to ruin you.
She shakes her head, like she’s going to refuse me. As if I’d let her.
I narrow my eyes, lowering my face, tormenting her even though I know she can’t see my face, and, as she shatters entirely, I know it’s me causing it, it’s me that did this. Me.
Her screams ring out. They echo around the chamber. No one else moves. No one seems to dare too.
As I let her go, as I step back, I realise suddenly what I’ve done. What complete and utter madness that was.
Gunther stares at me like he’s seeing me afresh.
There’s a voice in my head telling me to do it, to kill him, to kill them all. To cover this place in their blood, to paint the walls red, before I carry her out, full caveman style.
But that too is madness.
I step back, retreat, return to my place along the back edge, wondering if this act will be the final straw, if this moment will be my downfall. I can’t look at the other guards, but I can feel their piercing gaze on me. None of them have moved from their posts. None of them have taken one step.
The room collectively holds its breath. Gunther shifts, staring from me to his wife, who is still sprawled out.
“Get up.” He spits, reaching down, wrenching her up by her hair because he clearly doesn’t have the patience to wait.
He drags her to the door then shoves her out. “Fucking whore.” He mutters. “We have things to do. You think we want to be distracted by you?”
Devin
Our dear Chapter Lord is going away, going on a trip. Rumour between the guards is he’s been summoned to a meeting by the Grand Master but no one can actually confirm that. And the fact he seems so buoyant suggest he’s off on some jolly rather than heading for a bollocking.
Most of my friends get to go with him, get to provide protection but not me. No, I get to stay here, play babysitter to the whore again. My teeth grind as that sinks in. That I’m essentially grounded while they’re jetting off to Italy for some actual fun.
I don’t mean to, but my eyes find hers as soon as I enter their suite. She’s stood in the corner, as far out the way as she possibly can be, as if she’s trying to blend into the pretty wallpaper.
Gunther is droning on, giving some lecture that nobody cares to hear, and yet, no one is telling him to shut up.
I draw a low, deep breath, hoping to smell her, and it’s hard not to be disappointed when all I can detect is the stench of our dear Chapter Lord’s body odour.
“…and you will behave.” Gunther barks, waving his hand for me to step closer. Summoning me the way one would a dog. “Blake here is going to be watching you the entire time I’m away. He’s going to be on guard the entire time…” He punctuates that point by poking his chubby index finger in her direction like she can see it. “…you so much as blink the wrong way and he has orders to beat you, do you understand?”
She nods just enough for us both to register the movement.
“I said…” Gunther storms over, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her face up to look at him, “do you understand?”
“Yes.” She whispers so quietly.
