Disgrace To Manhood Novels & Stories

"You deceived us. You pretended to be part of our struggles, while all the while giving yourself shamelessly to... to Davis Dylan. How, Chelsea? Since when did you learn to give yourself so cheaply?" The word cheaply felt like a physical blow to her stomach. " That man humiliated your father," he continued, his voice cracking. "And yet your best idea is to go to him and let him use you like a whore!" " I am not a whore!" She cried. "That is the image you are presenting, Chelsea! That is the image!" He turned away, punching the door frame in a fit of agonizing despair. "My God. I have never felt so disgraced in my life!"

I glare at him, stepping closer until I was treading on his foot. “Do you find me alluring, captivating, beautiful, sexy or whatever word you men use to objectify women?” He was taller than me, and much, much bigger but I was too furious to see. I hissed, “Before you lay your hands on me again, just remember,” his eyes glistening like dark globes and mine matching ambers. This was not up for discussion. I refused to be a woman who would dance on his fingers and wait for a man to show me my way. No, that was what I was born to do. All my life I had been fooled and dragged in mess that had nothing to do with me, and yet I failed to realise my true worth. I, Grace, refuse to be a puppet anymore

I said softly, but my voice carried, clear and strong, “than be mated to a man who dishonors both the moon and his word.” The silence that followed was heavy, thick enough to choke on. Graymond’s jaw clenched, his pride clearly warring with the humiliation that had just befallen him in front of half the packs in the region. The guests whispered among themselves, their voices rising like waves. I

"Disgrace is a strong word. I prefer 'unconventional income enthusiast.'" As I reached for the last bill, she leaned in, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing. No dignity, no self-respect. You're just a puppet dancing for a paycheck." Dragging myself back to the hotel felt like attempting an Olympic marathon after a particularly intense yoga session – you know, the one where you question your life choices. The film crew had kindly bestowed upon me a room that could be generously described as 'cozy,' but I was too tired to protest. I opened the door, my weariness setting in like an unwelcome roommate.

I can’t miss his meaning at all and jump up, fully engulfed in seething disgust. “Why are all men such disgusting weak pigs who will bed anything willing. Do none of you have any shame or self-respect? No standards…Why are all men so eager to line up and get naked with my self-centered bitch of a sister? Like, do you even care that there are many of you lined up, discarded one after the other? That you’re all just faceless dicks on legs and she doesn’t even bother keeping a tally on her headboard. There wouldn’t be room!”

“What kind of man gets bent over? When did you start wearing make-up?” Papa turns to Mama. “Your son is wearing a pink watch.” I want to curl into a ball and disappear. The shame is too much to bear. “Douglas.” Mama’s eyes glisten. “He’s still our son…” Papa shoves Mama like a ragdoll. “An English cock sucker. That’s what you gave me! Fucked and be tossed.” I deserve everything. Yes, it hurts, but it’s the truth. I’m a disgrace. “England bred men like King Henry the Fourth. Charles Brandon. And even till date, we have

He blatantly refused to perform. When the village’s old women examined Paulette the following morning and discovered her virginity was still intact, Adahy went wild with rage. One did not need to understand his language to understand his meaning. Realizing that his refusal to bed Paulette could actually cost him his life, Manley apologized profusely and, with Adahy standing in the corner observing while two women held Paulette steadfast, he took her swiftly. The degradation was almost more than the pampered young lady of society could fathom. To be mounted like a brood mare by one of her slaves was bad enough, but to have an audience was beyond anything she thought she could endure.

“Imagine married to a man like Christian Reed, and now wiping tables for tips.” The third leaned back, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “What did she expect? That men like him stay with women like her? She must be delusional asf” Their words didn’t whisper. They rang out. They wanted me to hear them. And God, I did. Every word landed heavy, echoing in the hollow of my chest where his absence lived. I forced my hand steady as I set their cups down. “Enjoy your drinks,” I said softly. But one of them leaned forward, her voice low enough to sting like a blade. “You can’t polish away disgrace, sweetheart. No apron will hide it.”

She looked him up and down. “From being raised in confusion.” Grace inhaled sharply. Her father spoke before anyone else could. “if arrogance were currency, you would own this city.” Even one of the officers nearly smiled. The woman ignored him. She turned to Grace. “You rushed into marriage.” “You live with a man who is not the father.” “You deny bloodline.” “You parade stability while sitting in scandal.” Grace listened. Then answered quietly. “I may have made mistakes.” She took Johnny’s hand. “But at least mine were human.”

The second I become Capo, the first thing I'm going to do, I will disintegrate this business piece by fucking piece. The disgust I feel for women who engage in the exchange of their bodies for financial gain runs deep, and it's rooted in the disdain I feel for those who seem to lack self-respect and dignity. To me, these women represent a senseless surrender of their inherent worth, a pathetic surrender to a life that tarnishes their souls.