Page 26 of Servitude to Serpents

I want to be good. I want to earn this.

“Sir, the gentlemen from House Ragnar are here.”

I ignore the voice, screaming out in agony as my chain is yanked again. This time, I don’t stop;I can’tI need this. I can’t. I can’t.

Fucking hell, I can’t.

Master's hand wraps around the back of my collar, jerking me up off the floor as I cry out. I don’t try to stand on my own. I’m beyond exhausted, letting his grip on my collar support most of my weight, despite the painful and terrifying way it cuts into my neck.

“Serve some drinks and tell them I’ll be ready for them shortly.”

“Yes, Sir,” the woman replies as he lets me crumple back to the floor. My body is convulsing, my brain numb as I cry.

His footsteps leave, but I barely hear it, pressing my thighs together tightly. I barely notice it when I start grinding them, rolling onto my stomach to fuck myself against the floor.

Something soft thuds a little bit away from me, the gush of air cooling my heated skin as I rub myself against the decorative runner. The friction is bliss and hell all in one.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No,” I moan.

Master plucks me up from the ground, cradling me to his chest. I don’t open my eyes as I’m laid gently down on some sort of plush bedding. It’s only when he rolls me to my back, spreading my legs wide, that I look. My tears abruptly stop at the prospect of release. He fastens a cuff to my ankle instead, reverently, taking his time. I watch, sniffling as he does the same to my other leg, using his hand to lift the bar attaching the two leg restraints, running a single finger overmy oversensitive core. I hiss, trying to close my legs. He doesn’t like that.

“You will never shy away from my touch, even when it hurts.Especiallywhen it hurts. Understand?”

"Yes, M—" The hitch in my throat steals my words as he presses something on the bar, causing it to extend fully, spreading my legs to capacity before he puts them down, laying them back on the bedding the same way you’d lay an artifact on a display.

Sir crawls over the top of me, hovering there. The heady scent of him adds a layer to my torment. I can’t stop myself as I arch my back, trying to wiggle closer as he brings another attachment from his waistband, using it to cuff my wrists to the chain collar on my neck. My lips part as he frowns, running his thumb over the scars on the back of one of my hands. “I’ll undo these when I can trust you not to touch yourself.”

I struggle, my entire body humming as he helps me into a sitting position before leaving again. My eyes land on the now-smeared word penned on my chest.

Bad.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on me when he returns, lifting a full bowl of water to my lips. “Drink.”

I just want to collapse, but even that seems like too daunting of a task in my trussed and gaping state. When I press my lips to the edge of the bowl, he takes it away, shaking his head. “What are you?”

“A dog,” I rasp. He brings the bowl back, this time allowing me to lap at the water. It’s frustrating because I don’t get nearly as much as I want, but I’m too tired to care. Master helps me lay down, adjusting my messy, soiled dress to cover me before he stands, straightening his suit and the painful-looking erection in his pants before heading away from me, down to get whoever has been waiting on him, I’m assuming.

I adjust as much as I can on the large dog bed, surprised that it’s actually quite comfortable. Or maybe I’m just that tired. A bed of hay would probably offer more comfort than the stone bench of a bed from Bloom, the plastic mattress just barely thick enough to be considered one.

I must drift off to sleep for a little while. When I wake, the light has changed, and it’s to a cacophony of footsteps. My eyes flutter open as my master comes down the hall, flanked by a group of other powerful-looking men of various ages, his eyes dipping to me so quickly, I’m sure I imagined it.

One of the men whistles. “I see the Lily is settling nicely.”

“Any chance of sampling that today, Basilisk?” Another adds as they continue past into his office.

Basilisk…Repeating the name in my mind, I’m tempted to test it on my tongue but don’t dare.

“No.” His words are icy, jaded, making a shiver run down my spine. I’m relieved when the heavy doors close, blocking off the conversation so sleep can claim me again.

Chapter twelve

To own is to…Raise

Warrick

The men’s rioting laughter fills the hall as I open the doors, my eyes immediately finding my new pet sprawled and spread on her back. Her blonde hair is a tangled halo around her head. Halo fits the tiny woman well. She’s…sensitive. Everything seems to make her cry, an odd quality for someone in her position. There’s a reason the House of Bloom trains them hard, makes them impenetrable walls of ice and numbness. The sensitive ones simply…crumble. That doesn’t make for good business. Makes for even worse slaves. She snores softly, her nose still clogged from her upset earlier as I bend before her, gently unhooking her leg restraints. My cock jerks at the slight of her swollen cunt. The way she rubbed and ground against the carpet damn near sent my restraint plummeting.

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