Page 10 of Servitude to Serpents

Their words fade after that. My pulse whooshes in my ear while they speak about me like I’m not a human, not even here, the way you hold your pet as the vet tells you the best way to put it down. I was just offered a prized position I never applied for. For the first time since I woke up in this hell, it occurs to me itwon’t end. There’s no fucking light at the end of this. The little mundane things I’ve worried about, the things that have kept me rooted, evaporate in an instant. I won’t need to stress about the story I’ll tell my friends, my family. If they’ll judge or look at me differently. If I’ll still have my job at Dr. Abrishon’s office. What my landlord will do with my stuff, if I’ll have to pay back rent.

It doesn’t matter.

Oh God, none of it matters.

I’m not going home.

With that, my head snaps up, staring at the men in front of me. Their boisterous conversation ends abruptly, each one turning to level their glares at me in return. “This is sick.”

“Remember yourself,” Sir warns.

I ignore him, turning fully toward the older man, his polished hair and clothes screaming the same decadence I was raised in, perhaps even more. No, definitely more. “You’re fucking sick.”

I don’t beg to go home, trying to bribe my way out with funds I was cut off from years ago. I glare. It’s disobedience, willful disobedience, the only card I have here. He simply frowns at me, running his tongue across veneers that look so perfect, it’s almost creepy. “Yes, I think we will give her a contact for that eye. It’s quite unsettling when you’re looking directly at it.”

That’s it. My eye. I’m so far below him, he doesn’t even acknowledge my words. My disobedience is taking an indescribable amount of bravery to show.

“What?” I breathe, but Sir is on me. He grips the back of my neck in a violent hold, wrenching me toward the floor until I’m bent at a ninety-degree angle.

Intercom man chuckles, such a casual, indifferent sound. “Punish her, but no marks. I prefer my Lilies unscathed.”

These men are monsters far beyond anything I’d dreamt of at night, anything my mind could conjure on the worst of days.

“Iwill never be unscathed again.” Feeling every inch of the anger, the despair, I use it, knowing it won’t take long for Sir and his friends to rip the fire from my chest. They couldn’t have picked a better girl that night. In a bar full of peoplewith something to return to, with families willing to have them, within a bar full of fighters and strong women, they foundme.

One of Sir’s friends, one of the men from the first night, jerks out his chub length, waving it in front of my face. “You ever sucked a cock before?”

I stare at it blankly until Sir’s grip hardens, digging into pressure points I didn’t know I had. “No, Sir.”

He loves that; of course he does. My raw knees slam against the floor, his hand traded for Sir’s as he jerks my head up to face him. “You bite me, and I’ll fucking end you, whore.” That’s the only warning I get, vomit curdling in my gut as my chest knots with fear. His dick tastes stale, sour. I have no reference for what one should taste like, but I can’t imagine it’s this. I gag as he slams to the back of my throat, his foreskin shifting back, letting out more of the sour, foul taste, like salty cottage cheese that went bad.

It hurts. With my stuffy nose, I struggle to drag in a breath as someone grabs my hips, scooting their hungry hands inward until they can spread my cheeks. I was never religious, but I send up a silent prayer they take my vagina. I’m lifted off the ground until I’m left on just the balls of my feet, and then they slam home in my ass, only their spit softening the first blow. The familiar deep burn opens a barely healing wound left from Sir, making me scream around the dick as it slams home again. It’s sensory overload, my head light from a lack of oxygen.

“Yeah, tighten your lips. Fucking suck it. Fuck! Suck it, suck it, suck it. Suck it. Fucking whore. Fucking suck it.” He repeats it like a mantra as drool leaks from around my mouth, trying to hold it as open as I can, the burn of vomit in my throat a looming threat.

Sir’s boots are hazy through one bad eye and one watery one, but I recognize them all the same: the pointed snakeskin toes and black shiny bases. I don’t recognize the machine he holds in his hand, the long stick with something protruding at the end.

“Fuck, man, don’t hit her with that until I’m out of her mouth.”

Fear swallows me whole, making sweat bead at my hairline as they use me like a ragdoll between them.

“Hurry the fuck up then,” Sir responds.

The other Sirs take that command to heart, pounding into me with a violence that makes my legs give out. My mouth fills with silva, adding to the foul concoction I’m desperately swallowing past until that familiar hot, uneasy feeling pools in my gut. My sick surges up my throat, spewing out around my lips as he spurts, his cum and bile mixing like slosh in my mouth as I heave.

“Nasty bitch.” He jerks out, his palm slamming over my mouth, adding to my growing panic, because I’m choking, struggling to get even an inch of breath. “Fucking swallow it.”

I choke, coughing, but manage to do at least half of what he says. His hands leave me, no longer offering support as I crumple to the ground, sputtering and gasping for air as the man’s cock is ripped free from my ass. His curse fills the room as ropes of his sticky, hot cum cover my back where I lie retching on the floor.

It’s then that I realize what Sir is holding. He sets off the cattle prod, its ear-busting crackle filling the small room as he walks behind me. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I croak.

“You liked choking on his cock. I bet you came so fucking hard, your ass getting fucked like that.”

“Yes, Sir, I did,” I sob.

“Tell them.”

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