Page 23 of Servitude to Serpents

Master is quick, far quicker than me, his reaction instant and visceral. With a rough grunt, my breath escapes me as his hand grips my throat and slams me against the hardwood. My words are caught along with my breath. My eyes widen at him. That quiet anger is no longer residual. It’s horrifying as it rages. The moment those scathing hazel eyes meet mine, I know…

I fucked up.

Chapter eleven

To own is to…Direct

Bow by Reyan Heartly

He’s going to kill me.

His hand is bruising on my neck, and already, my head goes light. Dizziness makes the room spin as he squeezes, his eyes brimming with lethal anger. He’s squeezing my throat, but my breath continues in harsh pants. It doesn’t bring with it the numb, shattering fear the water did, no visions of my sister slipping from my fingertips. Master continues his conversation on the phone, the woman oblivious to my weakening struggle underneath him. Myhelpgoes unheard. I’m kept in limbo, my mind floating away, darkness crowding my vision before he eases his grip, jerking me back to the present. I have no idea how long they speak, only that his molten eyes never leave mine. When I’m ripped back into my body a third time, my panicked fighting leaves me, and my weakening hands grip his dress shirt, patting, stroking, begging.

He releases me but makes no move to back away from where he hovers over me. “Bad dog.”

I whimper, my face beat red and flushed, his words needling my chest.

I want to go home.

I think I must say as much out loud, but I can’t be sure. I’m not sure where he gets the marker from. I don’t even see it, so much as smell the sharp chemical scent of permanent marker.

“Remain still or I’ll choke you again. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” I pant. My hands finally drop free from his shirt, slamming limply onto the wood floors as he brings the marker to my chest. It tickles against my flushed skin as he pens something there, jerking his forgotten phone from the armchair and pointing it at me. Master’s polished shoes toe my legs apart, making them fall open, exposing my core to him, to his camera, before the sound of a shudder fills the otherwise quiet room. When he turns the camera toward me, what were silently falling tears pick up.

I hate it.

The wordbadis beautifully penned across my chest in all caps, and suddenly, I’m that little girl again, my bloody hands staining ivory keys. I barely pay any mind to the state of the rest of me, my core open and exposed to the camera, my neck an angry shade of red. I’mbad. The knowledge swirls in my gut, upturning the heavy food settled there, when Master finally pulls the phone away, recapping the marker. All these years, it’s the reason I’ve stayed behind, removed from everyone around me. The constant anxiety, shame, and fear I’d never been able or put my finger on…this is it.

I’ve always been bad.

“On your knees.”

My limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of stone, but I comply, my tears dripping onto my thighs.

“When I do this,” he flattens his hand, palm toward the ground in the same gesture from moments ago, “it is a warning. I suggest you heed it next time.”

“Yes, Sir. I-I –“ hiccup. “I-I’m sorry.”God, you’re pathetic, Chloe.

He sighs again, kneeling in front of me with a perturbed look on his face. My breath hitches as he takes my chin, angling my head up toward him. Hisperusal heats my already-burning cheeks, and he simply watches, watches me choke back my sobs as snot threatens to run from my nose until something of a smirk, if you can call it that, fills the angled planes of his face. “Save your tears, pet. Your punishment is far from over.”

I watch, dread filling my gut as he turns to a locked vanity in the bedroom, typing in a few numbers before the door pops open with a whoosh, displaying all manner of horrible-looking things. When his hand clasps around a length of chain, my chin wobbles as my teeth dig into my bottom lip. I break my position, letting my forearms rest on the floor so I can cover my head.

I wait for the bite of metal striking flesh.

Instead, I feel a tickle. The length of cold metal runs up my spine, making me shiver.

He does it again, running the thick chain up and down, teasing me. His movement is so fast, I don’t even realize what he has done until the back of my collar is yanked. Master jerks me brutally into my presenting position. The heavy chain he’s holding fastens to my collar with a resounding click. My brain is reeling, my body still waiting to be whipped, my mind ready to slip into a place where I can take it, at least in the beginning. I watch as he wraps the chain around his hand, making the veins seem even more pronounced.

Then, I catch up.

The chain goes taut as he pats his thigh, urging me to follow. It’s a leash. I shouldn’t feel relief in that, but I do either way. My legs are wobbly as I work to stand. He lets me reach my full height before jerking me roughly into him, his hand now closer to my collar. He directs me down with a swift and violent jerk. Pain flares in my back as I crash into the floor. “Are you a human, or are you a dog?”

“A dog,” I sob.

“Then the best place for you is at your master's feet.”

I crawl behind him as he leads me outside the doors to my room, down the wide, lavishly decorated hall. My eyes scan everything as we pass, my tears slowly drying on puffy cheeks. I want to wipe them, to clear the snot I keep sucking backinto my nose, but I don’t dare. When the doors to what I recognize as Master’s office come into view, my teeth score my inner cheek, keeping my anxiety at bay. If I can take it out on the tender flesh there, I can control whatever is about to happen to me, as if that flesh held brutally between my teeth is all I have left in the world. Once we’re stopped, I ease back on my bruising knees into my presenting position, watching his toned muscles flex and pull underneath his tailored dress shirt as he bends, unwrapping the end of my leash from his hand to secure it to some kind of hooked brace on the floor.

---