Page 17 of Servitude to Serpents

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I’m honored to present to you this season's Lily, a talented pianist who was kept…sweetfor your pleasure. For such a rare item, bidding will start at a hundred thousand. As you can see, she was trained soft and is a very docile and obedient girl. She will make a lovely showpiece. Seeing as all houses have made claims, there will be no leader’s bid tonight.”

Paying closer attention than I have all night, I straighten in my seat, the glass in my hand meeting the clothed table with a quiet thud. I focus on the graphic pictures displayed behind the stage. The same pretty blonde hair is matted in filth. What now is still a nearly unnervingly thin body is nearly skeletonized in the photos. Wide brown eyes stare off into space with the same stare you see on war-ravaged children. The woman who walks on stage is as bare as the others but draped in lilies. House of Bloom is nothing if not good showmen. The invisible strings give the appearance of flowery raindrops, dangling and hugging her body like they’re suspended by her will alone.

An already serious and quiet room goes silent as the woman approaches the grand piano on the stage and leads the band in a quiet, beautiful song with a somber and defeated look in her eyes. She doesn’t display herself, shove her ass out, or fondle her cunt like the other girls. She stands back and plays. I can’t tell if it's poor training or disobedience, but my hand fists on my lap, stifling the need to correct her. Already, her chest hiccups with the weight of her silent sobs, and my annoyance is quickly mounting with her. I don’t tolerate emotional women well. I’m hardly buying her for pleasure either way, so I assume it can’t be helped. Her price climbs to ridiculous heights long before I give Stuart the signal to place mine. I’ve got too much to do tonight to play games with the rest of them.

“Do I hear one million? Thank you, one million from the House of Tyet.”

“One point five!”

“One point five million from House of Ragnar.”

I nod, my eyes glued to the weepy woman playing her sad song. The melody itself is a sensual and bold one, lavish, but I can clearly hear the notes of agonylingering underneath.

“Three million!” Stuart calls from behind me, halting the auctioneer for a moment.

Leo Eaton is practically beaming from his table near the stage, looking at me with an excited nod.

“Five!” someone calls in the room. I don’t place the voice, so it’s likely a nobody within a house. A large bid for a nameless voice.

“Do I hear seven? Seven million for a once-in-a-lifetime whore.”

I roll my eyes but nod.

“Eight million!” Stuart calls.

“Ten million.”

Nowthatmakes me smile. My eyes cut across the room to meet the boisterous stare of Harun. Whatever he sees on my face steals his confidence, turning it to anger as I nod.

“Twenty million!” Stuart replies.

“We have twenty million dollars from the House of Serpents. Going once, going twice…”

I stare as Harun’s handler shakes his head, putting an end to his bidding that, of course, the over-gestated brat ignores, making the call this time himself. “Thirty!”

“Fifty,” Stuart replies, his gruff voice cool as ever.

The man’s handler is a picture of annoyance as he whispers something in Harun’s ear.

“Fifty million dollars from Mr. Hodge, head of the House of Serpents, going once, going twice…”

Sweet silence.

“Sold to the House of Serpents! A worthy price for a woman who will serve you well, Sir.”

I could’ve bought another house for what I paid for her.

Nodding in respect to Julissa and Leo before taking the final swig of my drink, I head toward the back room as my new pet’s song ends. I can see her eyes on me with the same apprehension and timid touch as they had last night as she’s led offthe stage to meet me.

She smells sweet. Whatever oiled aphrodisiacs they’ve basted her in give me a headache as Rodney Sampson methodically removes her current collar. He looks more than a little annoyed, although with his ugly, scraggly long features, it’s hard to imagine him looking like anything other than some creep who would hang out at playgrounds, waiting to touch the unsuspecting children. Although his work truly speaks for itself as the lead trainer at the House of Bloom—he breeds the most sexually corrupt and malleable sex slaves. He leans in, his lips grazing her neck, a bold show of disrespect in front of her new master.

The anger that wells up within me is immediate. “You forget your station, Mr. Sampson. She’s no longer yours to touch unlessI’vegiven you permission. I havenotgiven you permission.”

The deep breath he drags through his lungs is meant to be a calming one, or perhaps something to remember my pet by. Either way, it only serves to stoke my anger further. “Stuart, see that she is taken straight to my plane. We won’t be staying for the party tonight.”

“Yes, Sir. Come with me.”

The woman’s mouth opens and closes, her hands trembling at her sides. Perhaps she’d expected me to acknowledge her, sing her praises, fuck her on the floor like the dog she’ll soon become. I ignore her instead, stepping up to the smaller man, letting him meet my eyes in another bold show of disobedience. “I remember the stories my father would tell of you, ones where you served your masters on your knees with your tight hole bloody and abused. Your job title may have changed years ago, Mr. Sampson, but you are still a man's whore.” The rage that fills him is nearly palatable, inspiring, even, as I stare down at him.

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