32. Conrad
S he’s so soft. So kind.
I need to change that about her. I need to break that.
She needs to understand that our world is not soft or gentle, and that those who are get broken.
I don’t want my doll broken. I want her to live, to thrive. I just need to broaden her horizons, make her realise that my way is best.
I’m almost grateful to her little friend for giving us this opportunity, for making herself such a useful lesson.
She clings to me as I drag her further into the darkness.
I’ve been coming here to play since I was a teenager, since Magnus first allowed it. Of course he had strict rules to start with. But once I turned eighteen, he made sure I understood exactly what this place was, and what our duty as a Blake was.
It seemed stupid not to enjoy the fruits of our labour, considering we gave our blood to maintain it. I could walk through this place blindfolded.
We come to a stop in a small playroom. While I enjoyed showing my wife off, I don’t like others to see her disobedience, and I know she’s going to resist this. She’s going to fight me every inch of the way.
As she sees the figures waiting, she takes a sharp intake of breath.
All of them are on their knees with their heads bowed, perfect examples of how a slave should greet their master.
Within seconds, the two guards bring a now bruised Clara in, and they force her to her knees beside the others. You can see where the livid bruising is streaking her arms. Well, that won’t be the only damage the girl receives. It’s a good thing she made such a nice price at auction, because her time at Oblivion is already coming to an end.
I release Brynn and she staggers, only just managing to stay on her feet.
“Each one of these represents a lesson.” I state. My doll whimpers, shaking her head but I continue anyway. “You see, obedience is the currency of survival. You would not wish to upset the balance, would you?”
She doesn’t reply beyond staring off at the slaves, as if she’s already begging their forgiveness for what’s about to happen.
I click my fingers and the first of them gets up, silently walking to us.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Sal, Master.” She says in a monotone, emotionless voice. Yes, this one has been trained well. We give them new names when they enter here. After all, they have new lives, don’t they?
I look at my wife, and she’s staring back at me.
“I want you to beat her.” I say, holding out a whip for her to take.
“Whaaat?” Brynn stammers.
“Beat her,” I repeat.
She stares at the whip like she has no idea how to use it so I grab her hand, forcing her fingers around the handle.
“She, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Brynn says.
I tut, growing impatient already. “That’s not how this works. You don’t have to break the rules to be punished here.”
I take her arm, yanking it forcefully back and then I bring it down, bringing that nice little whip across the girl’s chest, across her tits. She hisses, her nipples turn hard and there’s a beautiful slash of red now.
“Why?” Brynn gasps. “Why do this?”
“Because…” I state, pulling her into my arms, holding her firmly so that her back is pressed against my chest and I have total control of her movements. I can feel how she’s trembling, but I can also feel how delicate, how soft her skin is. And those straps, those tight little straps criss crossing against her skin are such a tease. “In here, we are the Masters. We can do what we like. Act how we like, and nobody can do a thing to stop us.”
“But why would you want to hurt someone?” She replies.
I let out a snarl, grabbing her arm, forcing her to bring that whip back down again. This time it catches the girl’s face, catches her chin, leaving a livid bruise behind.
“Did you feel that?” I ask. “Did you feel how good it was?”
She shakes her head, and I lose what little patience I have left. I grab her hair, grab her ponytail and yank her head right back so her neck is at a near impossible angle.
“I know you enjoyed fucking me,” I growl in her ear. “I saw it in your face. You liked the dominance, you liked being in charge, meting out your anger.”
“I only liked it because it was you,” she spits back, “because you hurt me first. It felt only fair to get back at you.”
There it is. There’s finally an admittance of truth.
“Kill or be killed. Rule or be ruled. Those are the terms we live by, Brynn,” I state. “You either adjust to your new cage, or you’ll die in it.”
“I don’t want to,” She says. “I don’t want to become what you are.”
It’s too late for that, Doll, you’re already in far too fucking deep to go back now.
I haul her arm back up and this time, when I bring it down, I use my full strength.
Brynn screams, and it feels like we watch this moment in slow motion. Both of us caught. The leather lashes through the air, it strikes hard, and it not only slices through the slave’s face, but it gets her eye, and it splits it. It sends blood splattering.
The girl screams, howling, falling to her knees, covering her face.
And in my arms, my precious little wife all but collapses.
I let her fall. I let her crumple and I stare down at her, seeing all her weakness, all her feebleness. Her family did her a great injustice by bringing her up as they did, by allowing her to hold onto such childish notions. Sure, it makes her malleable but now I’m having to do all the hard work to fix it.
I pull the remote for the collar out of my pocket and switch the tiny little black bit of plastic across so that it’s now live. As I shift the button up, my beautiful wife starts screaming, clawing at her neck like she’s rabid.
Her body jerks, her tits are electrified, and she kicks out like she’s having a fit.
And then she stops. It all stops.
I hold it out, all but shoving it in her face.
“Did you think that collar was just to lead you around in?” I ask, scooping down to catch her face. “As pretty as you looked on all fours, I did have an ulterior motive,”
“Fuck you,” She whispers, glaring back at me and that defiance, that anger, it goes right to my cock.
I’m half tempted to pull it out, to make her choke on it before we continue, but that’s not the plan. That’s not how this sort of conditioning works. Besides, she hasn’t earned it yet, she hasn’t earned my cock.
I jerk my head for the girl to be taken away. Two of the guards I personally selected move quickly, following my orders. She’ll go down to the infirmary where they can see if her eye can be saved or not, though I doubt it.
As my gaze settles on the next slave, I curl my finger, beckoning them to me.
It’s a man this time. I don’t like the fact that he’s naked, that my wife can see his flesh, but maybe she’ll be less forgiving when it’s not her own sex she’s faced with. He stumbles as he comes to a stop and he falls to his knees, adopting that nice subservient pose we’ve instilled in them from the moment they arrived.
Brynn looks at him, then back at me, her eyes saying everything she’s feeling.
“You’re going to do it all this time,” I state.
“Like her-hell I will,” She spits back.
And that earns her another hit, another wave of pain. She screams out, spasming on the floor while I pull up a chair and take a seat.
As the pain subsides she just lies there, panting.
“You don’t seem to get how this works,” I say. “The entire purpose of these slaves’ lives are to be conduits for our wants. They have no thoughts of their own, no desires, we’ve broken then down so all they think about is us, keeping us happy,”
“They’re human beings.” She retorts, “They’re pe-people.”
“No, they are not.” I laugh. “Not anymore. They forfeited those labels the minute they walked through these doors, the minute they offended the Brethren.”
She gulps, like she’s realised suddenly how futile her fighting is.
“Every person here is a criminal, a traitor. They broke the rules, they thought they were above the rules, and that is why they’re being punished.” I say, getting up, bending down to pull her back up to her feet. “Right now, Doll, you’re also breaking the rules…”
Her eyes widen, they fill with tears, and she shakes her head, “I hav-haven’t.” She whispers.
“Poor little doll,” I mutter. You get yourself so worked up, so stressed, and it’s so very unnecessary. All you have to do is listen to me, to do what I say. Let your husband guide you with this. You’re overthinking it; you’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be.”
For a second I think those words actually sink in, I think she actually hears what I’m saying and believes it. But then she’s rearing back, clenching her fists, and she slams her right hand into my jaw so hard my teeth bite right into my lip.
“Fucking bitch.” I snarl, backhanding her, sending her flying before I compose myself, before I realise where we are. And who is watching.
I won’t be insulted; I won’t be disobeyed. Not by my own wife, not like this. Not in front of my men, not here, where I should reign fucking supreme.
“Fine,” I murmur, “You want to play hard, then I’ll play fucking hard too,” I kick my boot into her stomach, hearing that familiar scream as I make impact.
It’s not hard, not too hard anyway. I don’t want to break her, I just want to wind her, to make her remember who has the power here. As she curls up I squat down, grabbing her pretty little ponytail and I yank her head up by it.
In my right hand, I slip the vial out of my pocket and twist the lid off. I’d hoped we didn’t need to resort to this. I’d hoped that she’d be a good girl and wouldn’t need the additional help. I guess I was wrong.
“No…” She gasps as I force her lips to pucker up. Like she has any clue what this will do.
l pour the tiny amount of liquid onto her tongue then drop my hold, letting her head slam back onto the vinyl.
“Bastard,” She whispers, and that makes me smile.
It’s only a little alcohol. Pure alcohol. I didn’t want to risk anything stronger, but a little hit should loosen her up, should have her drunk enough to loosen her inhibitions, to lose those damn morals she’s sticking to.