Page 38 of Servitude to Serpents

That command is my undoing. I pitch forward, screaming out my climax as my teeth dig into his shoulder, my body erupting in flames. Every inch is on fire, tingling as I pant through the pleasure. Master groans, his grip deadly as he follows me. When his cum spurts deep inside me, filling me up, my cheeks flush. I feel like I’ve gotten something special, a part of him he’d kept from me in our month together. I make another mistake, one I can’t help… A little smile threatens my face. He notices, because he notices everything.

Master jerks me so hard off the railing, I lose my breath, his cock ripping out of me all at once as we fall backward. Pain flares in my knees as the sound of metal fills the cavernous space. The crash that follows is so deafening, I try to cover my eyes. Master is so warm underneath me, my teary eyes widen as his arms flex around my waist where he anchors me to him. Our twin breathing is labored, the adrenaline dump that comes with almost falling to your death making me lightheaded.

Mortification breaks me from my stupor as he uses the sleeve of his dress shirt to wipe away the snot under my nose. It’s done with so much…tenderness, it fractures my already-bloody heart. I scramble off him, ignoring the way my bloodied knees scrape against the rusted metal flooring. My heart is pounding in my chest as he stands, righting himself. My arms are wobbly as I climb over to the edge of the landing, staring over into the black abyss. The layout is different from what I’d originally thought. An open space is between each level through the middle of each floor, so deep, I can’t see the bottom, like a giant vertical tunnel. My skin breaks out in goosebumps as I lean over, making my blonde hair fall freefrom its bun, and I squint to see where the railing lands. Even with 20/20 vision, I couldn’t have.

“Pup, get away from there,” he orders, making my head snap up just in time for him to look away from me, his features quickly schooled to his usual blank façade.

“Yes, Sir,” I breathe out, staring up at him as he stalks over, each step measured lethality. But he doesn’t lash out. He helps me up before smoothing out my dress, frowning at my bloody knees then over the ledge out toward the abyss. His form, his entire being aside from his ruffled, silver-streaked auburn hair, is devoid of any sign of what just occurred. The violence, again, is muted, sucked somewhere deep. Meanwhile, I’m still a hot, sticky, panting mess.

“Is something wrong, Sir?” The moment the stupid question leaves my mouth, I wish I could suck it back in.

The frown marring his handsome face deepens. “That was my favorite handgun.”

“Oh.”

That’s it. He’s irritated about a gun.

Okay.

I peek over at the drop again. Part of me wants to find a way to get it for him, despite knowing it's most certainly gone for good. Whatever is at the bottom of the opening probably leads to the gates of hell, or something equally spooky and haunted. Suddenly, the dark seemsdarker, the abandoned factory screaming horror film. He turns away abruptly, leaving me to scramble toward him as he walks back inside. My skin prickles as I glance over my shoulder at the darkness one last time, making me slam into Master’s back. “Ow!”

His hand snaps out to steady me before releasing me just as quickly. I cup my nose with shaky palms, refusing to look at his disapproving stare as he leads me back into the party. My core aches, my tummy filled with the most insane number of butterflies.

There’s something deeply, deeply wrong with me.

When we go back in, Sir doesn’t bother with the party again, the older man who seems to be the host giving us a knowing wink before his eyes widen at my master’s gruff demeanor. He’s on edge again—as if he’d ever stopped. I’m careful to keep my head down, not staring at anyone or anything with any interest. Instead, I focus on the pain between my thighs, the dampness working its way out with each step. He asks the man for a first aid kit, and he passes that request to someone I can’t see.

Soon enough, we’re led to a moreofficiallooking room, the smell of leather and expensive cigars filling the air. My master tenses as we enter, his hand finding the small of my back as I’m urged in. It’s not just a guiding touch, but a possessive one, setting off a flurry of odd sensations in my chest. Even at Bloom, where my legs were more often spread than closed, I never felt anything close to having him between my thighs. Maybe it’s the way he feeds and washes me, how he picks out every outfit and is mindful of the things I like and dislike. Perhaps it’s the way I watch him watching me or the heights he takes me to, the praise and longing. Maybe I just didn’t realize how lonely I was before I was forced to become his dog…

His companion.

It makes no sense why such a terrible, dangerous man makes me feel so…cute and tiny, so safe. I’m certain trauma and some flavor of chemical imbalance play a—

“My God, you poor thing!” My head pops up as the woman I was watching earlier breezes into the room, the scent of fresh honeysuckle coming with her. My eyes slam down, anxiety budding in my chest. “When you dragged her out like that, I thought you intended to fuck her in your fit of asinine male jealousy, notabuseher.”Her candor takes me aback.

Master leans back against the leather couch as she comes closer, handing a first aid kit off to him. “What I do with my girl is none of your concern.”

His girl.

Excitement buds in my chest as I flop down on my butt, hiking up my ripping dress to above my knees so they can be tended to. In truth, they don’t bother me too badly, just a few scrapes, but the idea of him tending to me makes my belly feel funny. My master’s auburn locks fall into his forehead as he kneels before me, his attention on the kit.

Stuart's gruff voice makes me jump; I rarely actuallyseethe older man enter a room. It’s like he just exists there suddenly. It’s unnerving as hell. “Sir, allow someone else to clean her so we might start our discussions.”

“No, we can start now. You have no objections, Andres.”

It isn’t a question, but the man—Andres—answers like it is. “Certainly not.” He groans as he sinks into an ornate armchair across the room, the amber glass in his hand swirling with ice and liquid. It reminds me how thirsty I am. “Please, my love, don’t hover.”

My love? My heart would explode if Sir ever spoke to me like that.

I’m almost sad for the honeysuckle smell to fade as she walks away, settling on a loveseat near her master. I don’t dare look at her directly, but I watch her as she goes. Her athletic body is wrapped in a free-flowing dress; she shows no signs of soreness despite the…attention she received earlier. My belly heats at the thought before I panic, as if Master would somehow know my thoughts. When rubbing alcohol meets my bloody and skinned knees, I hiss through my teeth, wondering if he actually might have. The warning glance he gives me is enough to stomp out any arousal that may have bloomed there. I watch him instead as he leans in, blowing gently on my scrapes, soothing the sting.

He leans up, his eyes capturing mine for a brief, consuming moment before he speaks. “I believe we’ve spent long enough with decorum, so to avoid wasting any more of our time, I’ll cut right to the chase. We have a mutualenemy, Mr. LaMonica—”

“Andres, please, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Master smooths ointment over my knees, using the gauze wrap to spread it evenly. I watch him turn again as the parts of him that are my master fade into the background. His jaw clenches as he wraps the gauze around the bloody flesh. It’s overkill, sure—he’s really taking his time for a few nasty scratches—but I can’t say I don’t love it. “Then tell me the extent of your relationship with the House of Tyet.”

Andres scoffs. “Same as yours. We both got bad information. My wife tied up some assets in the venture as well, lost it all. Which makes me partially unforgiving.”

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