Chapter Thirty
Delila buried herself in the leather rooms and orgy pits of Outer Island, determined to think of nothing but her body’s pleasure. No matter how abject and spiritless that pleasure might be, she wouldn’t speak of her trials to anyone, except to tell Degas in a haughty tone that she loved her husband more than she did her life. Some three weeks back into the hands of her depravity, Fier pulled her away from f*****g three whores and three men in one of the loneliest of Outer Island’s many chambers.
“Where are you taking me?” she snapped.
“Where I’ve been ordered,” he snapped back, as his leather strap hit her ass hard.
“You hit me again, I’ll scratch your eyes out!” she seethed at him.
“Then I would vent on you with a whip and cane, and you’d love that,” he retorted.
“So
