28. Brynn
W e drive back to Conrad’s home so fast that I have to grip the handle on the door to stop myself from slamming into it.
When we pull up to the house he practically jumps out, dragging me inside, ripping the robes from my body and tossing them behind us.
The cold air hits me, and shame heats my face as I’m taken past servant after servant. Not that they’re looking at me. No, they know better than that.
“I’m going to teach you.” Conrad says, pulling me along with a look that makes him seem half manic. “You’re going to learn.”
Teach me what? What the fuck is he talking about?
My b ody trembles at the thought of another ‘lesson’ from him. My face is still bruised, and one of my eyes is still swollen shut. My legs barely function properly, and I feel like a newborn creature that hasn’t learned how to walk.
He all but drags me into a room. It’s big, but relatively sparse. There’s a bed, a TV, and only one sideboard. It feels like a panic room. The walls are lacking all the finery that the rest of this house displays, and that makes me pause. Where the fuck are we? It can’t be a holding cell, there wouldn’t be this much furniture. But what else is it?
“Lay down.” He orders.
I turn, giving him an alarmed look and he just clicks his fingers, expecting me to be obedient.
When he realises I won’t, he picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. As I bounce on the mattress he grabs my ankles, securing them against the frame with cold metal chains.
“What are you doing?” I scream.
He ignores me, ignores my hands too as I try to slap him, and he binds them up so that I’m spread eagled.
Leaning down, he plants what could almost be a chaste kiss to my lips. As if he can’t contain himself, he runs his hands over my body, over my breasts. I shut my eyes, praying that whatever the fuck this is, it passes quickly.
When the bed moves enough to tell me he’s gotten back up, I look around and he’s there, holding something up.
“What, what is that?” I shouldn’t ask. It shouldn’t matter. I already know that whatever the fuck it is, he’s going to use it on me.
His lips curl. “It’s a toy. A sex toy.”
“But, but those are forbidden.” I state. The Brethren are very implicit about what and what is not allowed and things like that? Toys and such, are a sin. To use them is blasphemous. To use them is to anger God.
He chuckles as if I’m a stupid little girl who knows nothing. “We only teach those things so you girls remain chaste. No one wants a wife who’s already fucked herself senseless with a dildo before he’s even gotten her to the altar.”
“But it’s forbidden.” I state again as he brings that thing nearer to me, and I start to panic even more.
I know it is. I’ve spent years at school having that fact drilled into me.
“Relax, Brynn. Let your husband teach you what pleasure is.”
That’s forbidden too. Any form of female pleasure. Any form of female gratification. We’re meant to be vessels. We’re meant to be passive. We’re meant to take what our husbands give, purely for the purposes of bearing children.
The thing comes to life in his hands. It starts to vibrate, and I let out a gasp.
“Please don’t.” I beg. I don’t want it near me. I don’t want it touching me. I don’t want whatever this is.
He tuts, clearly growing frustrated. He pays me no heed and that bright pink thing is pushed against me, slid right up my pussy.
I freeze, hating the way it feels. Hating the way my body doesn’t exactly dislike it.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Conrad says, staring at my face.
“It’s forbidden.” I repeat again.
He shakes his head, bringing it back down before circling it right at the very top where it’s even worse. Even better. Jesus Christ.
My legs lock up, my body seems to forget everything, and I shut my eyes to try and pretend that I’m not here. But I can’t shut that feeling out. I can’t shut out how good it is.
My whole body feels alive in a way that doesn’t even make sense.
“Your cunt likes this, Brynn.” He taunts. “Tell me, have you ever touched yourself?”
I can’t answer that. I can’t form words. I simply shake my head because again, we both know that is not permitted. Masturbation is another sin.
He laughs louder, more cruelly. “Fuck, you’re perfect. I’m gonna turn you into my perfect little doll. My perfect little wife.”
“I don’t want that.” I gasp.
He presses that thing in and I gasp, losing myself once more in that hateful pleasure.
My entire core seems to hunger for it, seems to beg for it. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“You will, Brynn. You’re going to come for me. Right now, you’re going to come for your husband and once you do, you’ll want to do it again. You’ll want to keep doing it. You’ll want me here, every minute of every day. Touching you, teasing you, fucking you until you can’t even think straight.”
No. I don’t want to. I don’t… all my desperate, panicked thoughts turn to mush. All his fancy words and nasty taunts, all of it seems to fizzle out as my head explodes.
I scream. I arch my back as something intangible, something incredible takes me. Just as I’m desperately trying to catch my breath Conrad is there, sliding his dick into me, groaning about how wet I am.
For the first time, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least it doesn’t hurt as much. He’s still massive, and I’m still brutalised from all his previous abuse. But as he thrusts into me, I can feel it. I’m slick, moisturised even.
He curls his arms up beneath where mine are still strung up, and while he’s propped on his elbows, he starts fucking me. He starts telling me what a good girl I am, what a good wife I’m being. How if I behave, he’ll make me orgasm again. As if I’d want that, as if I’d welcome him forcing me to sin further.
His dick slides in and out, and to my horror a moan escapes my lips. I don’t want to make that sound. I don’t want to enjoy any second of this.
“Fuck, Brynn,” He groans, “You’re doing so good. You’re so perfect, so fucking perfect.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t want to be perfect either. I think right now I’d take his fists, take his anger, rather than have to face what he’s making of me.
It feels too good. It feels too nice.
He picks up pace and I don’t know when but he puts his hand between us, slides it right there, touching that awful incredible part that makes me lose all control.
“You want to come, wife?” He asks.
No.
Yes.
Nooo.
I can’t do it. I can’t say those words. I can’t want that. I’m not going to give in that damned easily. I’ve barely even put up a fight, and already he’s beating me.
He starts massaging, manipulating my body and the last of my rational thoughts leave me. I shut my eyes, clench my fists, but it’s too late. It’s all too damned late.
He’s still fucking me but it feels different now, more intense. Like he’s trying to hit some spot inside me.
I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T…
I scream. I thrash, my wrists pull at the bindings and I can feel my skin tear, but it doesn’t hold me down. Nothing holds me down.
Something cataclysmic, something euphoric explodes in my head. My body moves on instinct. I writhe, and I moan, and I become some creature possessed. Pleasure overrides everything, every thought, every breath.
And then it stops. All of it stops.
I slump back with his body on me, in me. I can taste his scent. I can feel how horrifically strong this man is. I try to get my breath, and I practically choke on it.
I can feel his come inside me, I can feel it collecting there.
As he slides out, his lips are pulled into a devilishly attractive grin and I hate the fact that out of everything, I still see his beauty. How can a man as evil as he is, even be beautiful?
He leans down, catching my mouth and I do my best not to react, not to kiss him back.
He runs his hands over my breasts, admiring them the way one does a precious work of art, and then he pulls himself out of me and gets up.
It’s hard not to squirm, not to flinch. I’m still laid here, spread eagle and instead of letting me go now that he’s gotten what he wants he just stands there, right between my legs. Watching me, watching how he is leaking out of me.
“Fuck,” He groans, pulling out his phone as he snaps a picture while I can do nothing to stop him.
“Please uncher-chain me.” I beg. “You got what you wanted.”
Only, I can see from his expression that he clearly hasn’t. God, what more does he want from this? What more is he going to do?
He turns around, fiddles with the TV and it flickers to life, before he’s changing the channel and then the most explicit, graphic scene is right there, displayed in ultra-HD.
“You’re going to stay here, Doll.” Conrad says. “Stay here and watch.”
I blink, wondering if I’ve misheard him. Surely not. Surely… my eyes dart back to the screen. To where a naked woman is there, with a cock in her mouth and another one in her pussy. And she’s grunting, groaning, while the sound of their sweaty flesh slapping against each other seems to echo far more than it should.
I can’t do that. I can’t.
Just the noises alone are already messing with my head, doing things that make me feel disgusted with myself.
He chuckles, stepping back, looking every inch the very devil come to taint my soul and damn me to hell.
“It’s time you learned. Time you realised that your body is designed to give and receive pleasure.”
“Please…” I shake my head more, shut my eyes, refusing to watch but I can still hear the sounds.
Is that what sex is? Is that how it’s meant to sound?
Conrad walks up to me, slapping my face to get my attention. “You will watch, you will watch it all. You will obey me.”
And then he walks out, leaving me there. Tied up, spread-eagled, and utterly appalled at the way my body seems to be reacting to the vision in front of me.