Page 24 of Servitude to Serpents

Shame swathes me as a nicely dressed woman starts down the hall, a cleaning caddy in her hands. “Oh Sir, my apologies. Should I come back later?”

“Yes.”

She nods as Master makes another gesture, one I’m assuming means I should stand. I do, keeping my eyes averted, my chain scraping across the edges of the hardwood. What’s not covered by the trillion-mile-long hallway runner, that is. The calculated and assured steps that could only belong to him fade as he heads back down the hall.

My eyes stayed glued to the now humble length of chain in the wide hallway landing before flicking to the banister. I know there’s not enough length to hang myself with. That would be a huge oversight on his part. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man who makes mistakes like that, so I resist the urge to even try. I wouldn’t have the balls to fling myself off the edge, anyway. I lost count of how many times I’ve brought myself to the cusp, only to chicken out, how many times I’ve bought the razors, even brought them to my wrist. How many times I’ve tasted the bitter pills in my mouth, only to shove my fingers down my throat.

I don’t want to live, but I lack the bravery required to die.

I’m scared of what awaits me.

Scared to face what I’ve done.

None of my attempts left any marks, butshedid. I shut my right eye, looking over the banister at the enormous chandelier through the blurry vision in my left.

My nails prick my palm, the murky water lapping at the edges of my throat.

“What are you doing?” Master asks.

I open my good eye, turning to stare at his lips, not his eyes. My blonde hair curtains my face as I give him a teary slight smile. I know what to do, what’s expected of me. I was trained by the best, right? Whatever punishment he’s going to inflict on me, perhaps I could lessen the blow. Keep sweet.

Chloe Tyson has never been anything but.

“Looking through my bad eye, Master.”

His brows furrow in the middle, just a bit, and I’m surprised by how badly I want to smooth my thumb over the lines. “Why?”

“It helps to put things into perspective, despite me not being able to see much of anything.”

I keep the emotion out of my voice, but there’s little I can do about my tears.

He holds out a wall of semi-sheer cloth that I quickly realize is a simple emerald dress, one to match the decor. “There will be guests over for business shortly. I won’t have you on display out here.”

I nod, although the concept of modesty almost makes me laugh. I turn my back to him so he can help me get my arms into the sleeves, putting the button-up dress on me like a jacket. My lips part as he steps closer, pressing his chest to my back. Wavy auburn hair tickles my cheek while his fingers skim the length of the dress. My skin prickles, nipples pulling taut as he runs them past the valley of my small breasts, slowly, painstakingly so, until he reaches the hemline that stops just below my knees. I inhale him, letting myself sag into the affectionate gesture despite the madness of it. Sir takes his time; his skilled fingers brush my pebbled skin with each button. When he’s done, I gasp as he suddenly hikes up the dress, exposing me. His fingers prod my sex, discovering the shameful wetness there, coating his fingers in it. “Does this hurt?”

My mouth is still hanging open in surprise as he forces my legs apart, a hiss escaping my throat as he eases two long fingers in. “Yes, Master.”

He makes an appraising sound before he extracts them gently, coming up to swirl my arousal around my clit. “And this? Do you hurt here?”

“No,” I breathe out, lying without a second thought, pressing into him, wanting—no,needing—his touch.

I freeze as his hand suddenly tightens around my collar, making it dig into my throat. “Try that again.”

“I-It’s a little tender, Sir, but-“

My words cut off abruptly as he leaves me, taking his scathing warmth with him. I can’t remember the last time someone touched me that…affectionately, if ever. It feels like being swaddled by the sun before being shoved out in the rain.

I’m still reeling when he leans against the far wall, crossing his broad arms, making the black dress shirt strain against toned muscles. “Touch yourself.”

My eyes scan the hall again, as if someone will pop out, andagain,I’m struck with how ridiculous that is as I hike up the dress. My fingers gently gather up the arousal coating my slit. I watch him, and he watches me intently. For a moment, I’m the only thing in the universe. I struggle at first, trying to find that same sweet spot he had. It doesn’t take me too long. Soon enough, my head knocks back with pleasure, earning me a sharp,“Pup!”

My eyes fly open, but I don’t stop working my clit, my lips parting in little gasps.

“Eyes on me.”

“Yes, Master.” My cheeks flush as I grind into my hand. It feels good, so damn good, and I’m racing toward the finish line. I keep my eyes on him, because maybe this isn’t my hand. Maybe it’s his. It’s so screwed up, but my lower belly feels hot and tight. Everything is building into a crescendo, and I’m desperate for the release that’s soon to follow. He stalks toward me, gently gathering the length of my chain in his hand, a devastating, sinister smirk on his handsome face. That build quickens, matching the pace of my fingers as I play with myself.

I’m there.

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