Page 14 of Servitude to Serpents

“Make the House of Bloom proud, little Lily.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I mean it. My God, what is wrong with me?

My face and thighs are still sticky as a man I hadn’t noticed discusses moving my tattoo from the back of my hand, citing something about scar tissue. They decide just above my wrist. I barely feel the needle when it hits, barely feel the brand as they etch it into my soul.

Chapter seven

To own is to… Covet

The next few weeks passed with the same flavor of brain-numbing despair I felt in the months after Renee died. Constantly performing, wondering why me, why her, why us, the guilt and shame of being the one who came out of the water that day. The shame of surviving. None of it is as soul-shattering as theif I could just go back, I would tell her no.That we should stay in bed, that she’s too heavy for me to help into the float. We would’ve stayed in bed.

I would tell Clara no, that I don’t want to go to the Sour Grape, that I haven’t wanted to celebrate November 17thsince my sister died. I would’ve stayed home.

My body is free from my marks, but my soul is blackened to a husk. The rape, the abuse, the pleasure doesn’t stop, and all the same I’m standing at the precipice of something again, something altering. I begged Master, sobbed to Sir before he saw it fit to silence me. I begged to stay with the devils I knew, to remain at the House of Bloom. I’d even take Mistress' cruel hand over the unknown one to come. Would they be kind? Will they prefer to use objects like Sir? Ones that scrape my insides and send my screams bouncing off the walls? Itrace the discreet white ink outline of the Bloom symbol tattooed on the back of my wrist,my brand. We’re cattle, and right now, I’m a Lily in a sea of carnations, their matching scarlet jeweled gowns fitting and exposing. The men are dressed in matching loincloths. My own dress made up of lilies, strung together to hide just enough, but nothing at all. We don’t speak—not because the Sirs instructed us not to, but because there is just nothing to say. Tonight is important. It’s our first introduction to our hopeful new owners, like a dog show, but where they get to fuck, beat, and drug the dogs. The silver collars on our necks sport a Bloom pendant, a single lily swathed in a cage of thorns. The party is already going by the sounds of rioting laughter and music, moans already filtering in from under the door of the room we’re being held in.

“Alright, alright! Welcome to the House of Bloom’sthirty-eighthannual auction ball, where the drinks are stiff, your pockets are fat, and the girls…well, they’re as pretty as aflower.” I recognize Master’s voice, anxiety needling my chest along with…excitement, maybe. Perhaps gas. I haven’t been permitted to serve at other parties like the carnation girls, only sometimes watch from afar, posed and displayed while polaroids of my training are blown up and displayed behind me like the before and afters at the dental office. Each slide shows my body in various stages of decay. The girls around me are ready, brimming, slipping into their roles, wiping away the empty eyes and thousand-yard stares. I fidget with the lilies on my floor-length dress.I’m not ready.

The fear battering my chest is all-consuming.

“Tonight will be one for the books, because tonight, Mistresses, Masters, and Lords of our domain, we have a rumor of sorts toconfirm.” The room seems to fall silent with that. Even the music, an upbeat, energetic piece played live, seems to fall beneath the anticipation of the room. Succumbing to it like a willing victim. “Tonight will be our Lily’s debut. She is a talented pianist, obedient, submissive, and one hell of a lay.”

“Hear, hear!” Mistress calls from somewhere, making the room erupt again. Vomit curdles in my gut.

I don’t want to be touched.

I don’t want this.

Sir’s hand eclipses my throat, prodding at the place that hurts so much. “Be a good girl tonight, yes?” With that, the threat of pain and the offer of praise, my resolve slips. Such a disgusting thing, to be so easily swayed.

“Enough, enough!” Master laughs. “The ground rules change when such a rare flower is up for grabs, seeing as everyone will want a piece. You’ll need to be gentle with her. You may use any hole, as long as you treat it like you would any designer car on loan. No marks or wounds. She may receive your emblem, like the other girls, but there will be no on-or off-table offers for her until the auction. The carnation bidding starts tonight and will conclude tomorrow. Our Lily has been kept…sweetin near isolation for the past year. The carnations, on the other hand…” he chuckles. “Let’s just say they’re ready for the worst of you.”

One of the other people in the room sniffles. I don’t look up to see who. Only the sound of flesh hitting flesh comes next, followed by a whimper and a warning hissed through gritted teeth. None of us even flinch, the fear, the abuse, set into our tendons and bones.

“Let the party begin!” Mistress yells into the grand room. With that, Master throws open the double doors. The carnations quickly file out past him. I can’t see the crowd yet, and Sir’s hand keeps me firmly in place.

“Are you ready, little Lily?”

“Yes, Master,” I whisper, my voice breaking, betraying my nerves.

My dress pinches and catches as I stand, following Master out over the stage and into the elaborate ballroom. I find myself wishing my hair wasn’t pinned high on my head so I could hide behind it. The room is silent aside from the music. Everyone’s eyes are on me, making my gut swirl uncomfortably. I’m not surprised when I’m led to the band's area, still refusing to look at the crowd when I’m ordered onto the bench. My chest squeezes my heart in a vice grip, anxiety and sickness pooling in my stomach in a dangerous dance as I play, wishing for the bite of the ruler, praying for anything that might take me back home. Back to that girl, the wasted child prodigy, the boring, stick-in-the-mud dental assistant.

When the piece ends, it’s Mistress at my side instead of Master, her skintightdress showing the expanse of her cleavage as she bends, forcing her mouth onto mine. I gasp as she passes a bitter, tiny pill to me with her tongue. When she pulls away with a wink, I swallow, no longer caring what it is or what effect it may have on me. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. “You cannot ignore them forever, baby. This will help. Join the Masters. Watch the others, butkeep sweet.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I whisper as I stand, turning for the first time into the crowd. My eyes widen on the scene before me, carnations already taking cocks and cunts. Half of them are already nude. The men and women all seated in velvet booths at elaborately decorated tables scream power. There are other men and women too, most of them nude, kneeling or joining in with the carnations. Slaves already owned, I assume, brought tonight as a display of wealth like designer accessories.

My lip’s part, my core heating at the slight before me. A strange but pressing warmth starts at my fingertips. I blink my eyes rapidly, my left one watering against the contact I’m wearing, making me mostly blind in an eye I could already barely see out of. I’m careful not to look at anyone directly, remembering my manners. Shifting my weight on my feet, that warmth battles with my anxiety and I…I freeze. I don’t know what to do. Panic rears its head, ugly and pungent. Everything I was taught, the steps I practiced, are gone, like they never existed in the first place.

Tears well in my eyes, so I drop, hanging my head palms up, trembling wildly on my lap. The eyes in the room follow me as my chest heaves. I’m lost to my own anxiety, so much so that I don’t realize I’ve been approached until polished black shoes fill my vision. The warm press of the drug doesn’t mix well with my panic and empty stomach. Sweat beads on my brow, signaling impending vomit.

“Stand.”

Relief floods me at the sound of the command, stripping me of my uncertainty. The man helps me to my feet, my hands coming up to hide my breasts as my neckline dips.

His chuckle is nearly as warm as his hands. “Modesty, even at a place like this? Come, Lily, let's strip you of that. I imagine you’ll be covered by tonight’s end.Eternally honored that my emblem is the first to mar your skin.”

I keep my eyes on the expensive baroque tie he’s wearing until he angles my head back, his hand guiding my chin upward with ease, all while my heart pounds in my chest. His free hand drifts across my neck, so gentle, it tickles, but I’m bracing for pain. My gasp leaves me roughly as something cool and damp presses into the column of my neck, my entire body freezing, not so much as a breath escaping as his lips find my ear. “Be still. You’d hate to smudge my mark.”

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