A/N Hello there. Just a quick warning, this chapter contains rather dubious consent (in the form of prostitution). Hope you enjoy :)
The day starts out like most others; you get up, allow yourself to be dressed, and eat breakfast with your husband in silence as he peruses the morning paper.
It has been a week since you both visited Lord Phantomhive at his manor, and your husband's mood hasn't improved since. His looks toward you had grown more icy, almost if he knew what you'd been up to on that fateful day; the day you'd had sex with Sebastian, butler to Lord Ciel Phantomhive.
You doubt that he knows, however; how could he? You were at opposite ends of a sprawling Manor House! More than likely, his apparent iciness towards you was caused by his recent line of ill-fortune.
Not 24 hours after your husband's little spat with the Phantomhive boy, shares in his business had dropped tenfold. A few days later, and his second-in-command Ralf Dennings was found dead at his county house, having apparently fallen down the stairs and impaled himself on all manner of cutlery. And finally, to top it all off, his chief investor pulled out of their agreement, citing 'better opportunities elsewhere.' Despite all of his threats towards Lord Phantomhive, it would appear it was your husband that was to be ruined.
Your musing were interrupted by your own butler entering the room with a small parcel and a note on a silver tray. Accepting them both with curiosity, James opened the note first, reading it out loud;
Dear Lord Scottington,
I fear that your wife let these with me when you visited last week. I wouldn't imaging she has miss them overmuch, as I'm sure she has many other items just like it. I was tempted to keep it as a souvenir, just as the Vikings of yore took the heads of the people they conquered and displayed them as trophies, but alas, my master forbade me from doing so. A pity, indeed, but if I didn't listen to my master then what kind of Butler would I be?
Speaking of the Young Master, he sends his best, and reminds you that he's still waiting on you to 'destroy' him as planned. He can be so cheeky at time.
Do send my personal regards to your wife, and remind her that my door is always open, should she desire a repeat of last week. It did rather seem as though she enjoyed it.
All the best,
S.M.
Your husband looks at you curiously, his brow furrowed. 'S.M? I presume that's the butler. But what on earth is he talking about? Do you recall leaving anything at Phantomhive manor last week?' He shakes the box, in an attempt to gage what's inside.
'I don't recall. Couldn't have been anything too important.' You force a smile, mind desperately looking for answers. Think, think…
As he starts to open the package, you suddenly remember.
Your underwear.
Sebastian put them in his pocket just before you had sex.
Oh god.
You make to stop him, but you're too late; he's already holding them.
His face turns purple, and you begin to wonder if he's having some kind of heart problem. You watch, fearing for your safety, as he stands up, and turns to face your maid.
'You there, kindly escort this harlot back to her quarters. She is not to leave under any circumstances, do you hear me?' She nods, and he turns to the butler. 'You, write to both my in-laws and my solicitor. And make sure they bring their check books; divorces aren't cheap, you know.' Your heart stops; divorce? But surely not? If he wanted rid of you, he would have done it ages ago. Why now? But then it all made sense; he had nothing to gain from leaving you then. He benefitted from your family's money too much, and he knew he'd lose it all if he left you. But now? Now he had proof that you'd been unfaithful. Now he could play the victim.
Now he could arrange a severance agreement with your parents, and finally get everything he wanted.
You make no attempts to plea with him as you're escorted back upstairs; you know when you've been beaten.
-t/s-
It takes little over a month before you find yourself in serious trouble; poor, homeless, and hungry.
The divorce was settled quickly, with your (now ex) husband wanting to get shot of you as soon as possible. Your parents had paid him a hefty sum indeed to keep news of your indiscretion hidden; the official reason for your divorce being a 'catastrophic failure in relations', but no specifics were given.
Despite the fact that there was no stain on your reputation, your parents had still refused to take you home; sickened by your actions, they decided to legally disown you. You had no one.
Your things had either been destroyed or given away, leaving you with only the white cotton dress you wore that day; it was if James was taunting you. It was humiliation beyond compare.
You'd been driven into the centre of London, wherein you were practically tossed from the carriage, falling onto your knees. You tried to ignore the stares from passers-by as you rise to your feet, but seeing they way they looked at you made you feel sick. Just as you scuttled off into a nearby alley, you saw a blonde entering the carriage. 'Looks like he's picked one to remarry already' you thought bitterly, before setting off into the darkness.
Now here you are; sitting in filth and disease, once white dress brown with the grime from the streets. You haven't eaten in four days, and it's taking its tole on you. You're weary, sleep being difficult to find when you fear what will happen to you when you close your eyes. You haven't moved far from the alleyway where you'd been left; it has decent foot traffic, and most people are willing to toss a coin or two your way of you're lucky. You rarely are though; maybe people only gave to you initially because you stood out, a speck of white in an ocean of brown. But now you're just part of the scenery.
A familiar voice distracts your thoughts. 'My, my. What do we have here?' It couldn't be, could it? Fate couldn't be that unkind. You look up, and your worse fear is realised; standing before you is none other than Sebastian, the 'man' who took your desire for him and used it to ruin your whole life. This wasn't happening.
'You!' You growl. 'You ruined my life. Why? What could you have possibly gained?' You needed answers. You needed to know why someone would do something so cruel.
'Your life was already ruined, my dear, or you never would have given yourself over to me so willingly. And don't you pretend that you weren't; I gave you the opportunity to stop, but you merely shook your head and let me have my way with you. As to why I did what I did, the answer is simple; I was only doing as my Master ordered. You see, the Young Master wanted some way of destroying your former husband should things in the meeting not gone to plan, which they did not. We had plans already waiting, traps that we planned to spring at a moments notice. But we needed more. A way to wound more than just his business interests. That's when I saw you. Poor little wife, neglected, alone. It was all very well ruining the man's business, but to destroy his pride as well… oh you might think that his pride remains undamaged, but I assure you that it is. I took his most valuable possession from him. Right under his nose. His pride is undoubtedly damaged. Now I just have to wait until it breaks under the strain of potential ruination.' At that moment, your stomach makes a growling noise.
'Ah, poor dear, you must be starving. How about we make a deal?' You don't like the sound of that, but you're willing to hear him out. 'How does this sound; we skulk away into the alley, away from private view, and you let me have my way with you. After I'm finished, I'll give you 20 guineas. That'll be for than enough to buy you food. So what do you say?' This puts you in a dilemma; allow this man to have you again, and eat, or turn him away and starve? 20 guineas is a lot of money, but is it worth your pride?
You stand up, planning to push him away, but you only end up pulling you closer. It must be the hunger taking over, but you've decided; you lost your pride the night you cheated on your husband with a stranger. One quick fuck for food was hardly going to ruin you further.
Sebastian roughly pushes you against a wall. You feel the stone as it brushes against your back, and you're sure that you'll end up scratched to buggery when this is over. You don't care about that though; all you care about is eating tonight.
He gets straight down to business, yanking your underwear down to you ankles. You step out of one leg, leaving them hanging off the end of one leg; you wouldn't be able to spread them if they remained where they were. He pulls your left leg around his waist, lifting your skirt as he went. You suddenly feel two of his fingers force themselves into you, and have to bite your lip to keep from screaming. You were still in public after all.
You stay like this for a while, him prising you open for him. You're not quite as wet as before, pleasure taking a backseat to pragmatism. Here you weren't a woman who needed to feel wanted; you were a woman that needed to feel fed. Eventually deciding you were as ready as you would be, Sebastian unzips his trousers, and pulls them and his underwear down enough to allow his cock to spring free. You look away as he lines himself up, and have to fight the urge to stop him when he enters you.
He brings your other leg up and around his waist so you're wrapped around him, and starts to thrust into you.
His thrusts are powerful, and you feel totally helpless, trapped between this man and the hard wall. He tugs at you dress, allowing one of your breasts to pop out. He leans his head down to suckle on it, and you start to feel pleasure, despite your current situation.
Eventually his thrusts grown more erratic, and you figure he must be close; you're not, but that's not his problem this time. He climaxes suddenly, and you can feel his semen flooding your insides. It seems to last him forever, as if he's been denied release for centuries. When he finally pulls out, you can feel the proof of his orgasm sliding down your legs, adding to the shame and debauchery of the situation. You pull your underwear up as he fixes himself. When you're both done, he reaches into his pocket and hands you your 20 guineas.
'It's been a real pleasure, my dear. Perhaps I'll see you again sometime; even someone like me needs to use a whore once in a while.' And with that, he leaves, and you fall onto the floor.
You can't stop the tears flowing down your face. Part of you still feels as if you did the right thing, but the rest of you just feels ashamed. Ashamed that one man had turned you from neglected housewife to whore, from comfortable city dweller to filthy vagrant. Hiding the money you 'earned' in a secret pocket on the dress, you curl up into yourself and sob your way into dreamland…
-t/s-
When you awake several hours later, one thing is clear; you're not where you were when you went to sleep. You're not even still outside. Instead you're lying in a dark room, on what can only be described as a very uncomfortable table.
You sit up and try to take in more of you surroundings. You see candles, a desk, and coffins?! Oh dear lord, you were in a funeral parlour! But how? How did you get here? Did someone see you sleeping on the street and assume you were dead?! Still in a daze, your next thought is to make sure you've not been robbed. But as you make to feel for your money, you realise something.
You're completely naked.
'That confirms it,' you think 'Someone actual thought I was dead, and now some creepy mortician is going to come in here and make me presentable. There goes what's left of my pride.'
For the second time today, you weigh up you options; bolt stark naked from here, or wait for the mortician to arrive. Before you get the chance to decide, a door in the far corner of the room opens.
'Don't mind me, me dear. Just goin' to make you look pretty for your send off later. Well I never, you're not one of me customers after all. Welcome back to the land of the living! I'm the Undertaker, and I'm going to find you some clothes!'