Servitude to Serpents

14. To own is to… Desire

Chapter fourteen

To own is to… Desire

W arrick

Pup’s hair is soft underneath my palm as I stroke her head, playing with the ends. It wraps around my fingers like tarnished golden thread. Judging by the way her body sags as she leans against me, her breathing deep and spaced out, she has long since fallen asleep. Petting her was meant as a reward, one she’s no longer conscious to enjoy.

Still, I keep petting her.

A smirk pulls at my lips. I’ve learned many things about my new pet over the past month. Some of the most interesting is that despite me denying her my cock all this time, Pup seems to desire it…badly. She comes beautifully. My dick has been in a permanent state of arousal since I purchased her. She can and will fall asleep in most situations. Oh, and my new pet thrives on praise, to any degree, no matter how frivolously given. She beams , the type of smile that looks like it hurts, her cheeks flushing as she struggles to hide it. Opposite that, correction or punishment hits her in a way I can’t understand. For someone with a painfully apparent praise kink, she gets herself into trouble often. Although I can’t say any of it is deliberate. It's… endearing , almost, her clumsy and panicked stumbling.

A light knock comes at my office doors, taking my attention from the dirty blonde mop of hair resting on my thigh.

“Come in.” I frown inwardly at the hush in my voice.

“Sir,” Stuart booms as he shoves the doors wide, and I barely suppress the need to choke him into silence. I don’t often feel violent toward the older man, but his obvious dislike of Pup annoys me in a bizarre way. Sure, her crying makes me consider swallowing a slug most days, but—

“Now that the girl is fully acclimated, there is no further reason to delay your duties. Several networking opportunities have come and gone since you sealed the trade with Ragnar, only to assassinate the head’s son.”

Pup stills in my lap, her breathing hitching, no doubt thinking about what was left of the man’s face when I laid him beside her. She’d slept fitfully that night, gasping like she was treading water. I shoot Stuart a warning glance, still fucking livid at him for attempting to keep me in the dark. Not to mention, the last thing I need is to spend the day with Pup sniffling around.

I lost my Pup’s Tears record yesterday after hitting a whopping three days without making her cry.

I’d bent her over my desk and shoved a vibrating egg inside her while I bruised her ass purple and blue for lying about finishing her dinner.

She’d sobbed wildly and came then begged me to do it again.

I’m not new to using women as pets, certainly not new to hearing “I’m sorry,” but Pup’s are easily my favorite. She gives them with her whole heart, and there’s an earnest, genuine air to everything she does. Even her acts of service are done with all of her, willingly. To please , not because she’s scared I’ll hurt her if she doesn’t or because it’s what she was trained to do. She does it because it drives her. In her previous life, I could see Pup rather enjoying a slave dynamic.

My jaw clenches, my hand halting its petting.

Has she had one before?

Was she mastered before she was taken ?

“Sir…”

“The move against Tyet did not require the cooperation of Ragnar. My interests never truly aligned with theirs and they knew it. The pretentious cunt simply needs time to lick his wounds and mourn his decaying son. He’s hated Tyet longer than even I have.”

“Do you not at all worry—”

I sigh before taking a heady sip of my wine. “Stuart, there is a reason I have declined to have this conversation until this point. I do not care, nor do I worry. I was well within my right to kill the man—”

The easily sighted look of outrage on Stuart’s face is usually pretty fun, but it isn’t today. Pup finally moves away from me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I fight the urge to grab her collar and direct her back. “You killed him on the basis of theft because he fucked a whore under your domain! That must sound ridiculous, even to you. My assets within the houses have been hearing talks of unrest. We both know what he did was nothing more than a slight disrespect and should not have cost the man his life!”

Pup works to stand, dipping her head to excuse herself before I swivel my chair to face her. “I did not dismiss you. You may walk freely, but you will not leave my office.”

Her eyes dart nervously toward Stuart, who looks seconds away from an aneurysm. “Yes, Master.”

Her fitted red dress hugs her beautifully. The semi sheer fabric is what I most enjoy seeing her in. It gives her the illusion of modesty so she can be saved from the expense of walking the halls all day with her cheeks flushed and hands clasped in front of her sex.

I turn back toward my second in command, staring blankly while he works the frustration out of his system. I learned at a young age silence is a far more effective weapon than words.

“The merger between Dydicon and the Ragnars’ empire would have been monumental in any step taken against another house! Your father had Bloom under finger for— ”

That constant simmering flow of anger grips my chest. “My father is dead and has been for over twenty years. I have little interest in the flesh or drug trade, nor do I need any support. It would simply lessen the blow I have spent the last twenty years preparing for. I’ve never needed reminding of what it is I have worked so hard to achieve.”

Stuart lets out a huff, running a hand through his beard, a self-calming gesture he has done since I was a child. “You and your father are responsible for every headache I have had for the last several decades. There is a party tonight; some oil tycoon pushed enough funds to get it supplied by Bloom. There’s talk that Tyet sold him worthless information on a dig site years back.”

“That seems to be their preferred type,” I add, that old betrayal edging into my vision as it slowly tunnels. A flash of blonde hair jerks me back, my hang digging into the armrest of my chair. Pup bends, displaying her perfect ass as she warms her hands in front of the fireplace. Her long, pencil straight hair falls over her shoulder. She's fucking beautiful, as if someone painted her there, a part of the décor that was so well integrated, it pales the expensive art, linens, and wallpaper around her.

Pup is a statement piece.

My mood further sours knowing Stuart's ever-plotting mind is likely following the same path.

“Take a few of your women. Just because you can burn his empire alone, because you can take the blow on the cheek, doesn’t mean you should . I can have you wheels up in three hours with your word, Sir.”

It’s said in the same manner he has used since my father was the head, a command given in the shape of a suggestion. Viper, his nickname, even at his age, fits him well. The man is deadly, a mastermind in his own right. Him being at our sides has toppled empires and grown ours. Dydicon has flourished under his guide, despite his hesitancy to prop a legally standing weapons manufacturing company as the face of my criminal empire. The man helped raise me to be cunning and cynical, but not even he could find fault in my manipulations, my reasons for doing so, the doors it has blown open .

“Yes, thank you,” I respond absently, anger dipping back under the surface.

Where the other houses operate fully under the shadows, limited in their reach, adhered to back doors and under the table dealings, I found a way to pollute the world at midday. I have the legitimacy they lack. That’s what Dydicon is: an advantage I’ve built brick by fucking bullet.

“Shall I ready the other women, or would you prefer to handle them yourself, perhaps? According to the staff, they’ve been rather…antsy with your absence.”

My eyes dart to Pup as she stills, her head turning ever so slightly to listen. I can already see the furrow in her brows despite the low light. I’ve taken to using more accent lighting to make the office functional, as the brighter overheads seem to hurt her eye.

“You can handle it. This will be Pup's first party in my care. She’ll require most of my attention.”

“Lucky me,” Stuart grumbles before seeing himself out. In all the years I’ve lived in proximity to the man, I’ve never seen him show any interest in women. I’ve often wondered why, made my own assumptions, but I keep them to myself. Lingering glances, loaded looks, and long nights at my father’s side—it’s not my business if he prefers cock or cunt either way.

Pup remains still, her chest rising and falling quickly as she glares at the fire like it did something terribly offensive to her. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Jealousy is a terrible quality in a slave.

“See yourself to your bathroom. I’ll be in shortly to help you get ready.”

Her small hands clench so tightly, I can see her nails digging into her delicate palms. “Yes, Sir.”

I raise my brow at her clipped tone. It seems I’ve spoiled her with far too much of my attention. That won’t work. She’s halfway out of the door before I call out to her again. “Oh, and Pup?”

She doesn’t turn to face me at first, only glancing over her shoulder. It’s a small slight, but one that has my cock throbbing all the same. In truth, I like it when she acts up, which is a puzzling first for me. Judging by my dick's reaction, I’m not as put off by her possessiveness either, however horridly misplaced .

“Yes, Master?”

“You are my dog , not my girlfriend. Do not forget that.”

Her shoulders stiffen before she forces one of those unnerving, sweet smiles onto her face. “Of course, Master. House of Bloom taught me quite well how to play with others.”

The armrest of my chair cracks as she clears the doorway.

It takes me an hour to compose myself enough to join her. When I walk into the bathroom, a dress laid over my arm, Pup is there, kneeling on the floor, staring blankly at her hands, one eye closed again. I have no right to be annoyed with her. She has behaved well today, aside from a few bratty comments here and there.

But I am annoyed, something about the idea of her playing with others sitting poorly in my gut. An already barely contained need ignites like she’d dumped kerosene on it. I want her, badly , screaming, trussed up and stretching around my cock.

I motion for her to stand as she eyes the garment bag on my arm with open curiosity. Deciding to humor her and definitely not because I enjoy her reactions to my gifts, I unzip it slowly, showing off the navy-blue sheer gown inside. Her eyes widen with excitement, whatever jealousy or bitterness plaguing her momentarily forgotten. It’s adorable; she practically vibrates, excited even without understanding the meaning of the garment. Navy blue is a color often reserved for favorites. Her wardrobe is quickly becoming overrun with it. I’m finding more and more that I loathe to put her in any other color.

“Master, it's beautiful.”

I nod. “I wouldn’t have you out in anything less. You belong to the House of Serpents. Your position and behavior are expected to reflect that.” She watches me closely as I remove a long, black velvet box from my back pocket, pinning it against the wall with a finger. “Come.”

She hurries to my side, staring at the box with wide doe eyes.

“Put your head here. Do not use your hands.”

Her pale brows pinch together. “On the box, Sir?”

I nod, watching as she presses her forehead to the box. Her breath hitches as I step behind her, leaning in until my lips graze her ear. “Careful not to drop that, yeah?”

She starts to nod her head, gasping when the box slips. “Oh, shit.” Another little gasp slips and she goes still, realizing her mistake. Pup is not allowed to curse.

I smirk against her neck, my hardened length pressing uncomfortably against my zipper. Yeah, you fucked up, little pet. “Spread your legs.”

She does, and I let her feel the press of my cock before I abruptly step back, landing a rough smack to her core. She screams, her legs nearly buckling, her hands flying out before she stops herself.

“It’s not like you to curse, Pup. You must be in quite a state,” I prod, gathering her hair at the nape of her neck before urging the long strands over her shoulder. My lips find the crux of her shoulder, teasing her sweet-smelling flesh before I let her feel the bite of my teeth.

“Master…” she whimpers.

“Yes, pet?” The words leave my mouth in a groan as I grind my cock into her, slowly working the slip dress she’s wearing down her arms.

“I-I haven’t gotten to come today.”

I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat, knowing that’s not what’s truly bothering her. I’ve never spoiled a pet like I do her. To be honest, I just can’t get enough of watching her innocent doe eyes pitch in pleasure. “Yes, it seems I’ve neglected you, poor pup.”

With that, my lips find her neck again, biting down before sucking the delicate, abused flesh into my mouth. The desire to fuck her is nearly as strong as the one to mark her. Her day collar tickles my nose as I pop free, admiring the angry purple and red mark I left behind.

It’s not enough.

My hands make a gentle and languid pass along her sides, tickling her as I bite and suck again. The needy little moan she gifts me is only second to the sensation of her pushing her round ass back into me. She has put on weight in the past month, and the results are fucking stunning. The box slips again as she desperately grinds into me, making my cock weep for her. I’ve been hard before, fucked hard before, probably spent more time fucking than breathing in my lifetime, but my cock has never hurt to be in someone. I’m a sadist, not a masochist. This month-long cock and ball torture I’ve been subjecting myself to is ending soon.

Just not right now.

Her little moan gets caught in her throat when I kick her legs further apart, hitching my thigh against her core. It doesn’t take her but seconds to figure out what I want.

“There you go, Pup. Fuck yourself on my thigh.”

“M-master, Master, please, I need—”

My free hand snakes its way over her throat, resting there. “Need what, little pet?”

“I want—”

“I thought you needed it.”

“I need you to fill me. God, Master, please, I need you to fill me up. I-I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. Just please, please, I need you inside me.”

I bite back a groan, running my fingers over her full lips. Her sweet, round eyes are already brimming with unshed tears as she grinds her soaked cunt over my dress pants. Her grinding only barely falters when I dig my fingers into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. Before she can resume the begging that would be my undoing, I slip my fingers inside, gagging her deeply. “You used to be so quiet about it, but now, you let your dirty little tongue run wild.”

She struggles as I explore her mouth, keeping her quiet, her grinding growing frantic. Each time her ass slams back into my cock, my restraint frays. I gag her again, making the box slip just an inch before she presses harder into it, her forehead the only point hitting the wall. I move my leg down, just a bit, taking away some of her purchase. She makes a throaty sound as I grab her tongue between my fingers, pressing hard as her spit dribbles out over her chin. “You can’t even swallow your own words now, can you?”

She struggles again, her arousal soaking through my pants. My eyes widen slightly as her own hands grip my leg, forcing my thigh harder against her. “A-ah… ”

“Tch, how embarrassing.”

Those words are her undoing. She screams, her tongue still firmly in my grasp as she comes apart violently. Her grinding comes to a sudden and jerky halt, and I’m grateful she’s focused again on that fucking box, because the smile on my face is anything but indifferent. She wipes at her mouth the moment I release her tongue, ridding her chin and some of her neck of her spit as I drop to my knees.

“You may open your gift now.”

Her movements are languid, her body spent from her climax as she takes the box into her hands. Swallowing deeply, I jerk her hips back, exposing her pretty pink slit to me.

Because of course I’m going to taste her.

The small hitch in her breath is my only indication she opened it, followed by a throaty Master . My tongue finds her core, and suddenly, I’m a man starved, sucking and lapping at the remains of her cum like mad. The sweet, tangy flavor of her has me jerking my belt off, and despite how enamored my sweet pup is by her pretty new collar, the box is snapped shut, tumbling to the floor.

She gasps, jerking away from me to retrieve it, but my hand snaps out, pinching her clit painfully. “Don’t move.” I inhale her, my lips dancing across the beautiful swell of her ass. “I need you.”

I need you.

Those certainly weren’t the right words.

I should stop this now.

Right now.

I undo my pants.

My palm squeezing my cock in a strangling hold as I nibble at her.

This isn’t like you.

End it now.

I stand, stroking my cock as I palm her collar, forcing her to face me before shoving her to her knees. Her brown eyes are wide and consuming. My stroking quickens, and already, my climax is barreling toward me. Pup can tell, her mouth opening wide as she sticks her tongue all the way out, spit dripping off the end. It’s my undoing. I spurt, my cum decorating her pretty face and mouth. She takes it, moaning as I give her everything. My chest heaves, unease settling in my gut as I watch her spit and my cum dripping off her tongue and onto the floor. “You’re wasting it,” I breathe out before gripping her chin in a bruising hold, her messy face angled up as I spit in her mouth. “Rectify that.”

She snaps her mouth shut once I release her, swallowing like it’s the best meal she has ever tasted.

I make quick work of washing her in the shower, deeply fucking disturbed by my own actions. She coos quietly about how much she loves her gifts, and despite the unease in my gut, the off-putting, downright unholy feeling in my chest, I like that . By the time she’s clean, I’ve long since fallen silent, but she prattles on, animated and brimming.

I need you.

What the fuck?

Pup is practically vibrating as I jerk the key out of my pocket, undoing her day collar, wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror so she can see herself. Those teary doe eyes adhere to her reflection as I place the new one around her neck. It's fucking gorgeous, worth nearly as much as what I paid for her, but when I lay it across her neck, it looks like I bought it from a county fair. Her blonde hair falls in damp waves over her small breasts as I lock it. The silver base is inlaid with sapphire, but it’s the dangling charm her slender scarred fingers touch so reverently that jars me further. It’s the same crest she sees daily on my ring, the one I stamped on her neck the night of the auction party: twin serpents entangled, battling around two crossed guns, their eyes sporting the same sapphire decorating the base.

“I don’t think anyone has ever given me anything this beautiful. Such a kind gift.” She says it so quietly, I don’t think it was intended for me at all, so I don’t bother chastising her for forgetting her honorific.

I’m not kind. I bought her as a slave, a woman who was trained and abused. A woman I train and abuse, but the fucking way she’s looking at me makes me want to vomit. She meets my eyes in the mirror, her nude, dripping body dwarfed by mine. Judging by what little info Bloom tries to share about their girls, I know she just turned twenty-two. It shows, her innate innocence clear as I loom behind her, twenty-four years of bitterness and cruelty separating us. Even so, she looks at me like that . Her odd eye catches my attention for a moment, and I can’t for the life of me understand why they had her hide it. The upward slash of milky blue and bisected dual pupils are unique to her. I want to know why it’s like that. Was she born with it? Why are the hands of a concert pianist covered in scars? Why does she breathe heavier when I get water in her face during washing? What fucking damaged her so severely that she’s looking at me like that ?

Why haven’t I looked away?

Her hand grasps the emblem dangling from her collar—my emblem, one forged in blood, death, and war, devastation and terrorism. Yet, the maddening woman makes it beautiful again, delicate simply because it sits on her neck. “Thank you, Master. I’m going to make you proud tonight.” She says it so sweetly, I believe her, despite her propensity for mistakes. Her tears finally get the best of her, spilling over in fat droplets.

I frown, shaking my head, as if that’s going to clear it enough to let some logic through. No, instead, I bring my thumb up, gathering one of those big tears. My eyes catch on it a moment too long, but it’s better than looking at her right now. “Ridiculous, emotional little thing,” I murmur. Suddenly, I can’t expand my lungs fully, the steam in the bathroom too heavy. “Wear your hair up,” I order, spinning on my heel to leave. I slam the door to her bathroom before I can hear her yes, Sir .

I bring my tear-wet thumb to my eagerly waiting tongue as I stalk down the hall.