Servitude to Serpents

16. To own is to…. Sway

Chapter sixteen

To own is to…. Sway

Lydia by Highly Suspect

I ’m going to fall. Oh hell, he’s going to kill me.

Panic overrides every inch of training, every rape, every time that prod was set off inside me as I struggle against him, grasping desperately to keep my weight off the railing. It makes another unholy sound as I thrash against it, the fabric of my dress tearing as the metal scrapes and digs into my back. That laugh, oh God. That quiet anger is raging in his eyes as he watches me struggle. There’s no warmth in his hazel depths, no mercy, no life .

Suddenly, his hand leaves its place on my throat, letting me drop off the railing. My entire body threatens to crumble at his feet until a gun cocks. Tears and probably a little snot coat my face as I stare at his chest, my entire being vibrating with terror as the barrel of a handgun presses against the underside of my jaw.

All those meetings I was present for, the documents I glimpsed on his desk as I attended him, none of it set in. Every praise, my disgusting desire to serve, to survive my unpalatable reality, had numbed me to it, to him . At some point, I’d separated Basilisk from the man in front of me. It was a dangerous mistake. Master’s chest heaves as he points the gun at me, and I see him, fully, for the first time.

Not my master, the man who brings me pleasure I’d never thought possible, not the man who feeds me every meal from diamond-studded dog dishes. The man who washes my most private areas. The man who stands silently for my every waking moment. I see the man they fear. A weapons kingpin. The type of man who would sell bombs to countries ready to drop them on women and children without batting an eye. The head of the House of Serpents .

“You’re bad for me.” It’s all he says as he jerks his cock out of his pants. God help me, my eyes dip to it; its huge in a flushed shade of red. My core, my desire, flares to life, reminding me how fucked I am too.

Going home isn’t an option. I’m ruined. Destroyed. Owned. Entirely. Biblically. By him.

He hits me again like a brick wall, his hands punishing as he jerks, manipulates, controls. My legs are kicked apart, my dress shoved around my hips. My heart slams against my ribs as I struggle to watch the gun. Master lifts me with one arm, slamming his cock home inside me unceremoniously. I scream around my gag as I’m stretched, filled to capacity. It burns, tearing and ripping as he forces himself into me, but warmth soon takes the pain, blending and muddling it into something shattering. I’m gasping, adjusting to his girth as my ass hits the top of the railing, making me cry out again. I try to dislodge him, lurching forward, away from the drop, but I can’t. Fuck, I can’t . The railing groans, a truly demonic sound as the gun is again pressed against the pale skin of my face. “Don’t complain now. You did this to yourself.”

What? What did I do wrong?

I’m sobbing, only his hand gripping the back of my collar offering any kind of support as Master finally moves, pulling all the way out, allowing my arousal to gush after him before slamming back inside my core. Warmth bleeds throughout the tops of my thighs, worming its way to that place deep inside me as he fucks me. There’s no better word to describe what he’s doing. He’s hate fucking me, but I haven’t the slightest idea what I did to be hated so suddenly, so viscerally. There’s anger in every stroke as he slams home, stopping to grind my clit roughly against him.

I’m being punished, I know that. The terror and shame I feel comes only second to the pleasure as he rolls his hips, making his cock hit something inside me entirely new. I scream past my gag as my orgasm hits me like a runaway train, all at once and blinding. His grip on the collar tightens as mine on the rusty bar of the railing loosens. It’s a push and pull, my life in the balance. The warehouse is dark, only the faint moonlight from outside the broken windows illuminating Master’s beautiful, terrifying face.

“You wanted attention so bad, didn’t you, pet?”

I sob as his cock drives in and out of me. I’ve lost track of the gun, but I know it’s still in his hand, pressed sideways somewhere against my ribs as he grips me there. The railing screeches underneath me, mumbled apologies spilling from around the gag as Master’s face pitches in pleasure. His forehead is damp as he leans over, pressing against my shoulder, his cock slowing to a mind-numbing place. I’m building again, and I haven’t even begun to recover from the first one. “I think the railing is going to give. You don’t get to leave it until you come again.”

I gasp as the gag is suddenly released, jerked roughly from my mouth, a deep ache blooming in my jaw. “I’m sorry. Master, I’m sorry. Please. Please, I’m sorry.”

“Mutts don’t talk, they whine,” he warns.

Despite myself, a whimper leaves my throat, because everything feels divine. I’m floating on lust and desire, but that fear… God, that fear. “Please—”

“Shut the fuck up and ride my cock.”

My sex quivers at his command, pleasure bracketing me as I sob. “Y-yes, Master.”

“Fuck, your little cunt is so tight, swallowing my cock so well. I own you, don’t I?”

I nod, moaning and whimpering something in agreement, but I can’t focus on that right now. My small breasts heave, my nipples brushing the fabric taunting me as he fucks me harder, his thrusts becoming jerky and violent .

“If you ever look at someone like that again, I’ll put a bullet in their skull and make you have your way with them long after they’ve gone cold. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I moan as I grind back against him, the railing wobbling with each thrust, but I’m lost to it now. Chasing it. Chasing him. “I’m sorry, Master. I want—”

“Want what, dog?”

“I want to be a good girl.”

“Tsk, then show me.”

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 free from 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 facade.

“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 seems darker , 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 more official looking 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, not abuse her.” 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 actually see the 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 mutual enemy, 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.”

Master tenses, working his jaw before he stands, helping himself to the decanter of liquor on the center of the low coffee table. “You know more than I gave you credit for.”

“One doesn’t ingratiate himself into a society such as yours without coming to the party well versed. Tell me, Basilisk, why have you let him live this long? From what I understand of your laws, what they did was more than enough—”

My messy and knotted hair falls in my face as I busy myself, picking up and reassembling the mess Master made of their first aid kit.

“Retribution killings are only as good as the proof of betrayal. That is where you come in.”

Andres tenses, his feel-good attitude dimming for the first time. “I know nothing about the death of your father.”

After it's gathered, I stand, hoping Sir won’t mind me not crawling with my knees cut up. My dress falls back down from where it was hiked around my thighs as I offer the first aid kit to Stuart. He glares down at me in his usual manner. “Give it to Ms. LaMonica, not me.”

My eyes widen slightly, looking between the stunning woman and Andres.

She’s his wife . I’m not sure why the concept is so shocking. Come to think of it, I think he said that earlier while I was…distracted. My eyes linger on her collar before I remember myself, keeping my attention away from them both.

My eyes slide to Master next, his own hazel depths locking with mine in a suffocating hold as he nods once. He grants me permission, but the hand at his side rises ever so slightly, his palm facing down. A warning. None of it slows him as he continues his meeting. “Of course not. That play occurred on a level far above your own.”

My bare feet press into the plush decorative carpet as I walk to the woman watching everything from her seat. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She takes the kit, discarding it on the back of the cozy looking white loveseat. “My name is Mahari. Oh, sweetheart, what happened here?” Her palm is warm as it cups the side of my face, her thumb brushing just underneath my bad eye.

My eyes widen in panic as the room goes silent, her kind warm eyes waiting as I stumble around my words. I can feel my master's eyes on my back, my palms slick with sweat as I step away from her. “I-I was hurt.”

I look over my shoulder at him, unsure how to skirt the line between being disrespectful and angering anyone in the room. The molten hazel of his eyes threatens to burn everyone to a husk, so I opt to excuse myself. Better to snuff her than him, I decide. He’s the one who cares for me, after all.

My head is only half dipped when she speaks again. “By someone?”

I freeze, the smell of saltwater burning my nose. Somewhere in the room, my sister cries out, her voice wet and raspy. I nod, her question needling deep in my chest. God help me, there are tears in my eyes before I can stop them. Even years and years later, through so much hurt and trauma, it’s the thought of that night that makes everything in me feel off balance.

The empathy I’m met with when her eyes find mine is my undoing. My lip quivers as a sob works its way up my chest. I don’t mean to; I swear, I don’t. Master, Bloom, being here, his anger and soft touches. It’s all so much . I hadn’t realized how close I was to teetering on the edge.

“Oh, come here, baby.” I back up quickly, but not before her warm palm grips my wrist, tugging me to her chest, my battered knees meeting the carpet as she holds me. “You are too sweet for this world.”

“Come.” The sound of Master’s voice jolts me, but her hug is warm enough to remind me of my mom’s. It’s a hug. I can’t recall the last time I felt one like it. My crying soon fills the room as I try to tug away, but she pulls me back in. In this moment, being held by her feels more important, like if I let go, I’ll shatter, and this time, there will be nothing left of me.

“Enough, Basilisk! Can’t you see she’s hurting? Allow me to care for her while you wring my husband for information. I promise not to do anything untoward.”

“Mahari—”

“No, Andres. She spent half the night trembling before he dragged her out to brutalize her!” She states, caging me in her arms the way a mother would protect and guard her young before she turns her venom on my master. I gawk in her arms, trying to stop her, but the insane woman only hugs me tighter, so tight, it nearly hurts. “What, did you just pick her off the street? She your girlfriend? Clearly, the poor girl is not trained like the others you brought tonight. She looks so young too. Tell me why I should let her go?”

My pulse is pounding in my ears as I strain my neck to look over my shoulder at Sir.

I see it in his eyes the moment he decides to hurt her, to do something that would jeopardize whatever was so important, he left the house to come here. This time, when I struggle to get free, she relents, my hair whipping my face as I turn to him. “M-master, please,” I hiccup, making him halt. “I’d like for her to hold me a moment longer!” The last part comes out pitched higher than I mean for it to, my hands shaking. I haven’t been comforted like this in…

I sniffle.

Long before I was taken. I need it, like her hugs will fix something that needs fixing, an old wound that’s still bleeding.

Mahari takes in the deadly tone of his glare like its nothing as she turns to Stuart. “Please grab one of my men from the party. Tell him we need some snacks, water, and my overnight bag.”

Stuart glances at Master, and I swear, I don’t breathe until Master nods. He still looks like he smells something bad, or like he wants to shoot everyone as he refocuses on Andres. “Your wife is only owned when she wishes to be?”

Stuart makes a perturbed face before he exits, and everyone else is just as confused by the question. Andres recovers first, laughing. “Mahari wears a collar and performs when she feels like it. I take no others; the men are her companions. The rest of the women here tonight were brought by guests.”

“Interesting.”

I tilt my head back to look up at her, returning the smile she gives me. I don’t look away until I can feel Master's eyes on us again, and like every time, I’m magnetized, sucked straight back into unforgiving hazel pools.

She holds me just like that, humming softly while we pick at the meat and cheese that was brought to us by a naked man with a very interesting device attached to his balls. Sir seems mollified for now, but I can’t help the dreadful feeling in my stomach, like maybe this is the calm before the storm, and I’ll be punished later. It doesn’t stop me from soaking up her maternal affection despite the way she made me feel earlier. I’ve come to learn what my body feels has often very little to do with anything other than stimulation. It disturbed me in those first few weeks with Sir, the way he would wrangle arousal out of the most disgusting and painful torment. He’d talk about things that made me want to vomit, but still, my body would react. Before I was taken, I never cared about sex. Sure, I’d touch myself now and then, but that was about the end of it. Now, I can’t even think about the act without my core tightening.

“Put your back to me, sweetheart, and let’s work out this mess of hair,” she whispers, bopping my nose, making me suppress a laugh. She’s gentle as she uses her fingers to work through the worst of my knotted hair. Mom used to do the same thing, section by section. I’d get so irritated because it took too long.

I was stupid.

“….and you think he would talk?” Master asks, drawing my attention back to him.

“I can’t say for sure, but I know he’s pissed for the same reason I am. Harun had many people going on his last insider campaign, even some of their own. Fucking scum.”

“And Tyet has no clue you harbor any hard feelings? Extending me a line will already raise enough heads. ”

“He doesn’t look that far ahead, never has. I don’t even think he knows he fucked over one of his advisors on the deal. The man is a spoiled brat with endless funds and a line to almost every power in the world.” Andres takes a long drink, letting his glass slam a little too hard. “The guy lost over five hundred large when the pump and dump stock crashed.”

Master nods. “His advisor is a friend of yours. You should know that if he doesn’t talk willingly—”

“He will,” Andres interrupts.

The brush feels heavenly on my scalp as she makes another pass. My eyes flutter closed as I struggle to pay attention. I’m exhausted, and the blanket she offered me earlier is just cozy enough to cocoon in. I’m supposed to stay presented, upright, and pretty. Instead, I’m swaddled in the plush caftan blanket, my eyes droopy, makeup nonexistent, my inner thighs chaffing and tackey from Master’s cum. The large, brooding man drew the line when Mahari offered to clean me up there.

“If he doesn’t, I won’t hesitate to do whatever is required to loosen his tongue. This has been years in the making. I won’t have it fail.”

Andres nods, raising his glass. “Make good on it. I want my seat at the table, sure, but I wouldn’t mind watching his pompous ass fall.”

Mahari has gone back to holding me, frowning as my master says his goodbyes to her husband. If I’m being honest, my chest aches at the idea of leaving her. I could stay here being coddled by the kind woman for ages.

“Pup, time to go.”

I nod, tilting my head up to give her a sweet smile despite the tears budding in my eyes. As I cling to the shred of comfort she’s giving me like a life raft, she presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “What if you didn’t listen, Chloe?” She whispers, making my eyes go wide. Hearing my name from her makes my heart wrench. I’d whispered it to her earlier, which nearly sent me into a full-blown panic attack.

“Come,” Master orders again as I hurry to my feet.

Mahari follows, crossing her slender arms as she glances at her husband and back to Sir. “I’d like to make you an offer for her.”

“Mahari!” Andres hisses before turning toward Master. “I am sorry. She likes to collect the damaged ones.”

Ouch, but I suppose he’s not wrong.

“You’ve overstepped.”

“You can see she isn’t cut out for this! Let me take her as a friend and not a fucking pet.”

Master’s hand flicks to his holster, and my heart stops, thanking God he lost his gun earlier. For one traitorous moment, I hesitate, her question bouncing around in my mind.

What if I didn’t listen?

The emblem dangles around my neck, tickling my skin as I spin on my heel, wrapping my arms around Mahari, rapidly blinking away the tears in my eyes. “Thank you, but I’d like to stay with my master.”

Her dark eyes are sad, but not in the way I thought they’d be. It’s an endearing sadness, one I saw in my parents’ eyes when they looked at my sister, the way I always wanted them to look at me.

“Enough, Pup.”

I dip my head, dismissing myself despite knowing she doesn’t expect me to as I go back to my master’s side. Inhaling the deep scent of him like my life depends on it, my lips part as he steps closer to me, wrapping his arm around my waist, tugging me against him. “We’ll be in touch if everything pans out. You can contact Stuart directly when you get confirmation of your insider's schedule.”

“Of course, Basilisk. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Don’t be a stranger.”

Mahari stops glaring at Sir long enough to give me a little smile. I beam back, waving at her before I’m told to don my slippers and am ushered out. We’re quiet as we descend into the dark warehouse, Stuart nowhere in sight as Master pulls me into the limo we arrived in. I assume he’s attempting to collect the other girls. My eyes follow the dark outline of factory buildings as they race past us, willing it to lull me to sleep instead of this pungent anxiety I feel now. I’m lost in my thoughts when Master’s hand jerks out, capturing my arm in a bruising hold as he pulls me into his lap. He sighs, his brows knitted as he continues to scroll through emails on his phone.

“M-master?”

“It’s your fault for not coming when I called.”

I’d been so lost in my own head, I hadn’t even heard him.

My cheeks flush despite him making no attempt to speak further or hold me. I’m happy to just sit in his lap as we drive. Soon, my anxiety lessens, and I let myself sink back into him, inch by inch, until my back is melded to his chest, my eyes heavy as the buildings fly past.