Page 28 of Servitude to Serpents

“Enough. Just clean it.”

I pause, eyeing the napkins again. “I can’t reach the napkins, Sir.”

The other man laughs, and I know I’m doing something wrong. My hand finds my scars, rubbing them anxiously.

“With your tongue, pup. We don’t want to waste food, now, do we?”

My lips part, my raw core tightening as I nod, gathering my wet hair in my hands as I lean forward, dipping my tongue cautiously into the food on Master's thigh. He goes rigid as I lap it, timidly the first time, only smearing the food, worsening the mess. My brow furrows. This is why I wasn’t invited into the office with the other girls, why my master will take pleasure in someone else. I’m not doing a good job. I’d only embarrass him. Tears well in my eyes as I strain against my chain, determination flooding me as I clean up my mess.

It's utterly ridiculous.

But I need to please him.

As if this will somehow balm wounds that have festered for years.

My chest is a gnawing, gaping wound.

Sir’s prod, Mistress’ nails, Grandma's ruler, Mom’s screaming, Dad’s silence; it’s all a testament to everything I’m lacking.

I clean his thigh as the other man lumbers closer. “Fucking hell, Basilisk. Name your goddamn price. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

Master's hand snaps out, catching me by the collar, stopping my incessant lapping. “And have you ruin my toy before I’ve played with it?” His laughter is bitter, and I feel it deep in my chest. His entire demeanor hardens, and he doesn’t have to say it for me to understand I’ve embarrassed him.

“You’re being too gentle with her. Take her ass until she fucking gapes and I bet you’ll find her very…agreeable tomorrow. Pain humbles them.”

“Perhaps you should see to your own plaything for the evening. She doesn’t look too good.” There’s a note, an edge to Master's voice, that sends chills down my spine. If I could move away, I would, but he still holds me by my collar, my forehead centimeters from his straining cock.

The man seems oblivious to the tension in the air, or maybe I’mimagining it. The woman barely reacts as he grips her hair. “Quite right, my friend. Seems we’ve messed up the fucking dose. I know just the thing to wake her,” he slurs. “Don’t be too long with this one. We’ll need that fucking monster of yours to get her attention.”

Master laughs, and the taste of copper floods my tongue, my teeth scoring my inner lip. The bizarre sense of inadequacy makes the heavy meal sit poorly in my stomach.

We sit in tense silence until the man and woman disappear into the office again. A gasp leaves me as Master’s hand shoots forward, knotting my hair the way the man had hers. My heart jolts to a sprint in my chest, my body tensing, preparing as I’m jerked face to face with him. Sage and oak tickle my senses as his lips graze my forehead. “Where did your tears go, Pup?”

I swallow hard, his lips making another languid pass. I can smell the liquor on his breath. “The other girls don’t cry. I-I’m not supposed to cry.”

His lips stop their teasing on my flushed skin seconds before he releases me, my eyes tracking the now bent fork’s path back to the plate. “That’s enough for tonight. Get some rest.”

I open my mouth before snapping it closed again, longingly staring at the half-eaten steak still on my plate, but I don’t protest. My mouth is still watering unfairly as the taste of the expensive cut I haven’t been able to afford since I left home lingers in my mouth. I’m hauled into Master's arms and taken to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth before being tethered again. At least this time, I’m offered a blanket and the use of my limbs. I’m not tired, not in the least by the time Master leaves me for the office. The sound of whimpers and laughter floods the landing before I’m cast into the dark, only the moonlight illuminating the tears that soak my bed on the floor.

Hands clumsily grip my waist, jerking my ass into the air. It’s not that I’m unaccustomed to being woken this way, only that each time it happens, it’s never less unnerving. I gasp as a hard cock slams against my cheeks. My hands clutch the bed, breathing deep and forcing my tight hole to unclench as much as possible.

The laugh that fills the hall is grumbly, bizarre.

My pulse hiccups at the unfamiliar voice, and I peek over my shoulder when the dark, moonlit form of the man from earlier looms behind me. A startled yelp leaves my throat as I shove off the floor, only for his sweaty palm to clasp my hair, gaining control of my head before slamming it back into my bed, pressing it down with barely restrained violence. “Basilisk always was a stingy little cunt. Fucker thinks he’s above us.”

Panic overwhelms me as I try to crawl forward, my nails biting into the hardwood as he spreads my cheeks, spitting on my asshole. “I’m not allowed—”

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll make it hurt.”

Saltwater splashes, burning my eyes as I fight to keep them open. I’m treading, but the waves are so choppy. For every inch I gain, the ocean takes a mile. I can hear Renee’s skin slipping against the plastic of her float.

“No. I don’t want you to!” I yell, a cold sweat breaking out over my body. I know how to relent, how to take, but Master told him no.

He laughs in a hushed tone.

Maybe he changed his mind. I try to relax, but indecision makes it hard to breathe.

“Stop fucking fighting,” the man whispers harshly.

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