Page 6 of Servitude to Serpents

“What is your purpose?” The question is acid in my ears, knowing I don’t have the right answer, that no matter what I say, it will only bring more pain. I liked the men better when they were pinching and stroking. I wrack my brain for answers, but that takes too long. Another strike connects with tender, abused flesh, but this time, I don’t scream. I float off somewhere else in my mind, somewhere safer.

I’m Chloe Tyson. I have a name. I’m a dental assistant with friends who are probably freaking out. I have parents I hope still love some part of me, even if we went no contact years ago. I have a little sister who never got to grow up becauseof me. I’m dumb, useless, boringChloe.

I lose track of the times he strikes then forces me to my knees again. I stay slipped away from the florescent lights and the two-way mirror until the question changes, forcing me back inside myself in 4k, blinding, painful definition.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You?” I croak.

“You belong to the House of Bloom. It’s an honor to be among the few selected. You will show your gratitude in all ways, at all times. Who do you belong to?”

I can’t seem to force my voice above a whisper. “The House of Bloom.”

He offers me a curtgoodbefore striking me again. “You will address all men as Sir and all women as Mistressunlessthey tell you an honorific they prefer. Slaves will be addressed as whatever you deem fit—if you're given permission to socialize.”

Slaves.

God, I’m going to be sick.

The sound of a zipper filling the space makes me shrink back. All the anxiety of the engorged cocks straining against the front of their pants slams into me all at once, that deep-seated sickness that’s been building in my stomach since the first time I realized I was naked.

“Unfortunately for you, you’re not a virgin, which means there’s nothing left to preserve.”

“I am! I am a virgin!” I wail in desperation, because it’strue.

When he strikes me, it’s followed by his hand knotting in my hair, pulling at the strands as my head is wrenched up. I do my best not to meet his terrible dark eyes as he forces my forehead to his. The smell of cigarettes sits on his hot breath. “Even when youlie, you will address me properly.”

I choke on my sob. “I’m not lying, Sir. I’ve never had sex.Please.”

He seems to regard me for a moment before releasing me, letting me drop to the ground roughly. It’s strange to think of a cold cement floor as a reprieve. “Even so, your hymen was not intact, so you can’t be sold as one. Yourtraining begins now. Luckily for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

The warmth and ripe smell of my own dehydrated urine fills the room, coating my legs and puddling underneath me. The realization I’ve peed myself brings a wave of shattering humiliation. I brace for whatever punishment something like this warrants, but he simply regards it with a smirk before knotting his hand in my hair again, holding me hostage as he bends, forcing his hand between my legs to the puddle there. I gag as he lifts it, inhaling deeply before his thick whitish tongue darts out, lapping my piss off his hand. “I will be your primary instructor from now until you’re auctioned. These conditions will not improve until you do. Am I understood?”

I want to answer him, to spare myself from whatever punishment will come if I don’t, but I can’t, because now, he’s dragging me toward the bed. My skin weakened, always wet drags across the ground painfully as I thrash in his hold. “Please, please, Sir. Please, God, I’ll do anything. I’ll listen, I swear! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He ignores me, slamming me face down on the bed. My begging is drowned out and muffled as he presses my face into the plastic mattress. “You will learn to take a cock, a cunt, or whatever objects someone deems fit to shove inside you. I will teach you to obey the ins and outs of your new world. Most of all, I will teach you to stomach the pain, how to find pleasure in it, even. Although your pleasure is not now, nor ever, a priority. You will enjoy it even when you don’t. Am I understood?”

I sob, my hands fisting the mattress above me as dread pools in my belly. I know I can’t stop him. Even now, my fight is weakening, my arms and legs shaking as his cock presses against my ass. He groans loudly as he rubs it around on my piss-damp cheeks. My panicked, hot breathing bounces back at me off the smooth surface.

“I’ve found it's easier in the long run for whores to stomach pain if you don’t start with pleasure. We’ll think of pleasure as a treat, a milestone. This will hurt, badly. If you attempt to harm me, I will shove my fist so far up your asshole, you’ll bleed to death beforeanyone can pry it out.”

His knees dig into the backs of my thighs, pinning my legs open. When the head of his dick breaches my inner core, the pain is searing, ripping as he forces all of himself in, bucking and grunting. My screams go hoarse as his free hand finds purchase against the raw skin on my back, dragging his knuckles into the marks.

“Please.” I hiccup. “I don’t want this.”

“Yes, you do.”

“S-Sir, please.”

“Good, you’re already begging for my cock.” He returns, his hold punishing as I struggle underneath him, his weight suffocating as he drapes himself over my back, pressing into me as he ruts.

“I- I want my mom,” I whimper. It’s illogical, but a deep ache forms in my chest, one that has been hollow since she stopped speaking to me. “I want my mom.” I repeat it over and over again until the kneading hand on my back skims lower, long, slender fingers finding the puckered hole between my cheeks. I repeat it until he wiggles and then forces the dry digits inside.

I repeat it until I can’t bite back the screams.

Chapter four

To own is to… Dominate

---