Corruption

Chapter 5

I cowered, stepping back in instinctive fear, but the leash around my neck pulled taut, cutting off my retreat. The metal loop dug sharply into my throat. I winced, fingers brushing the collar.

"Do not be afraid, pet," one of them said, his voice deep and deceptively calm.

But I was afraid—more than that. I was petrified. My chest rose and fell in panicked bursts, and no amount of self-control could hide the trembling in my limbs.

"Poor thing. She's shaking," another chimed in, his tone mockingly sweet, like someone talking to a wounded animal.

A gloved hand came down on my head, giving me a rough, patronizing pat. I flinched at the touch. The hand was massive—easily capable of crushing my skull if he wanted. Any of them could.

Before I could recover, another knight grabbed my wrist, lifting my arm as his free hand grabbed the hem of my dress. It all happened so fast I didn't even have time to react—let alone defend myself.

He pulled the fabric up without hesitation, exposing the bandaged wound at my side. Cold air bit at the exposed skin, making the pain flare anew.

A single gloved finger traced over the stitches.

I yelped, the sound tearing from my throat—the loudest noise I'd made since Kylo handed me off. I jerked away so violently the leash choked me. A raw cough sputtered from my lips as my hand flew to the collar. The other yanked my dress back down, shielding what little dignity I had left.

"My apologies, little pet," came a voice from the knight holding a club-like weapon. "If I had known we'd be keeping you, I might've struck with a gentler hand."

I froze.

He did this. They did this.

My wound—my unconsciousness—had come from him.

"You nearly killed me." I growled, wrapping my arms around my waist in an attempt to avoid anymore forced undressings. "Yet here you are, standing before us because I was gracious enough to allow you to continue drawing breath." His tone wasn't cruel, just matter-of-fact. And that terrified me more than any threat would have.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I kept my eyes on my feet, not daring to meet their gazes.

"Don't worry, brothers," said the knight with the grid-patterned mask. "We'll train that attitude right out of her. Won't we, pet?"

He gave me another firm pat on the head. I winced as pain shot through my scalp. My head still ached from the original injury, and these playful blows didn't help.

Without another word, they began to move, tugging me along like luggage as they exited the throne room. I stumbled forward, the leash digging painfully into my neck as they led me into the corridor.

I zoned out as they dragged me along, pain radiating with each step. I knew the collar would leave bruises. They didn't care. Or maybe that was the point.

Eventually, we reached a circular hallway—each door spaced evenly around a shared common room. A sunken seating area circled a flickering glass fire pit. It was... almost homey. In a way that made it feel even more wrong.

The Knights dispersed, claiming seats like they owned the place. I was pulled downward, landing clumsily in the lap of the Knight who still held my leash.

His helmet resembled a skull, and his axe rested beside us, glinting faintly in the low light. His body was warm and solid beneath me, and the contrast made me shiver.

"She's a pretty little thing," he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he examined me.

"She was the Princess of Rhymna, Ap'lek. She was bred to be beautiful," another said, boredom lacing his voice. He didn't even look up from the cannon-like weapon he was tinkering with.

And he was right.

My planet was built on appearances—on genetic perfection. Only those deemed flawless were permitted within the cities. The imperfect were sterilized and cast into the wastelands.

My mother had been handpicked by my father for her "ideal" traits. A living womb with desirable genes. I was the result.

I had always hated it. Had planned to change it, to undo the sins of my bloodline. But there was no kingdom left to save. No people left to free.

In a sick way, maybe that was a mercy.

"I suppose you're right, brother," Ap'lek said, running a thumb along my side, avoiding my wound with surprising care. "But that doesn't mean I can't admire her radiance."

His fingers rested at my waist, tracing soft, slow circles into my skin. The touch was... strangely soothing. My body, still raw with pain, relaxed into it. A small, involuntary sound escaped my lips.

A moan.

Immediately, I stiffened.

"Poor thing," he chuckled. "So desperate for comfort."

He pulled me closer. My body pressed against the solid warmth of his chest, and my breath caught in my throat. I didn't understand this feeling. I didn't want to feel it.

"I can take the pain away, pet," he whispered. "I can make you feel better." His words, despite being distorted by his mask, made a warmth gather in my belly. He hands guided my hips, slowly grinding my body back and forth against his own in a rhythmic motion.

I whimpered instinctively, my hands gripping the fabric of his robes as I did my best to control myself, trying to make myself think about all of the horrible things these men had done and would continue to do.
They are bad people
They are bad people
They are bad people
but it didn't stop the growing wetness that had began to accumulate between my thighs.