Page 11 of Servitude to Serpents

The men walk in front of me, looming like demons waiting for my praise. “I came so hard. Your cocks feel so good inside me.”

“Grab her arms,” Sir commands.

My sobs stop abruptly, bitter fear plunging me into silence. “Please, I won’t do that again. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Yes, I know you won’t.”

The metal prongs scrape a slow but steady journey into my core. I’m begging, pleading, reasoning until I’m screaming. The cattle prod goes off deep inside me, my scream cutting off until darkness takes me again.

Chapter six

To own is to… Retain

Ididn’t disobey again.

But it wasn’t the last time I saw the prod. Gemma runs the brush through my long, blonde hair, applying oils to make it shine. The white gown she brought me today is simple, but it’s beautiful. This is the most beautiful I’ve felt in…I don’t know how long. I can’t bring myself to be happy to be clothed again. Seems like an awful waste of time when every interaction with my Sirs leaves me crumpled on the floor. Flush creeps up my neck as I slam my eyes away from my reflection, shame battering through me. It was only a day ago when Sir….helped me feel better.

He’d made me come. Hard.

My head had gone light as my core clenched around him, whimpering until the waves of bliss had passed, and then I’d sheepishly asked him to do it again, ignoring the sense of disgust that followed. When Sir told me I’d learn to take pleasure in the pain, to accept it when it was given, I didn’t think that was possible, to feel good in a place like this, with a man like him.

I’m disgusting.

Even now, with my pale skin mostly free from bruises and color back into my filling cheeks. I’d come. I’d had sex, not been raped. Willingly. I can’t stop thinking about the next time I see those snake skinned boots, what I can do to please Sir enough to let me do it again.

“I wish you’d have eaten more,” Gemma whispers, making me eye the mostly uneaten oatmeal and fruit on her rolling cart.

“I’m nervous.”

She only nods, her preferred mode of communication. After weeks of being cared for by the older woman, I’d only learned a few things. Her name is Gemma, but I assume it’s not her real name. She was once like me, a girl owned by the House of Bloom, trained, used, and aged out to a more companion role, a whore who paid her fee on her back until she wasn’t as desired as the new girls. Judging by the bruises on her neck, even in old age, when my looks fade, there will be no relief—if I’m unlucky enough to make it that long.

When the lock sounds on the outside of the door, my pulse hiccups, and I all but knock Gemma down to scramble into my position on the floor. I’m halfway there when Sir’s voice cuts through the room. “Remain standing. I don’t want you to dirty the dress.”

I wiggle my cold toes. Even now, with the blankets I’m allowed, they never seem to warm. The tips are always an angry shade of red. “Yes, Sir.”

My core is already clenching in anticipation, my gut churning with dread.

“Come. He’s ready for you.”

I frown as I head toward Sir, toward the open door. My heartbeat notches up to a full sprint in just a few seconds. I cross the threshold for the very first time. More months have passed than I know how to track reliably. The door always loomed like a taunt, a beacon of despair and possibility, and I’ve…crossed it. Tears well in my eyes as I realize…I no longer want to. I don’t want whatever comes next. I want to stay with the House of Bloom. With Sir, at least seeing as home isn’t an option. God knows what going home would even look like anymore. My fear chokes me as I stare at my feet, at the changes in flooring as we walk.Distant cries of pain and pleasure come from the rooms as we pass.

“You may raise your head, but keep your eyes lowered. Do not, for any reason, address anyone I have not permitted you to.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I lift my head, taking in the expansive area. My lips part as they land on a girl, bloody and strapped to a wooden cross, a group of men all chatting casually around her limp form. My breath hiccups out of me, making Sir chuckle. “Perhaps now you’ll believe me when I tell you how good you’ve had it these past months with me, how blessed you are to be kept sweet and sold as a Lily.”

Sick pools in my gut as one man reaches out, putting his cigar out on her nipple. My flinch sends me knocking into Sir, which only makes my panic drum higher. My apology is on my lips before he regains his hold, giving me a steady hand. “Easy. Those are carnation girls. She’ll learn to love it before her training is done.”

“Sir?” I whisper, keeping my voice soft as he unlocks a heavy door with a keypad beside it. What I see next almost makes me forget myself entirely.

“Yes?”

I stare dumbstruck at the girls walking around freely, all in a different state of dress. Not a single one of them pays me more than a glance, going about their lounging, petting, and napping.

“Your question before I lose my patience.”

Each one lowers her head in respect as we pass, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth. “I, uhm, am I going to the auction?”

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