Page 13 of Liberator (Serpent Sinners MC #2)
Chapter 13
I’d left the broom closet as quickly as I could. I’d done it again. I’d let Rage get under my skin and into my body. It was a foolish mistake. He’d keep coming after me if I didn’t stop giving in to my impulsiveness whenever he was near. I wasn’t going to be coddled or protected by a man because I didn’t believe it was possible without that same man taking away my freedom or using me as nothing more than a vessel for his needs then destroying me. Worse, if I gave a damn about the man before I was broken then I’d be as good as dead. I had to protect my heart and soul.
It was time to concentrate on the task I had ahead of me and push the issue of Rage into a back corner of my mind. Flame had warned me what I was about to be up against. She’d seen it dozens of times since she’d been around the club members. Prospects were treated as nothing by the club. They were peons, servants, or as I saw it slaves. Everyone was going to try to break us in one way or another. Even those we had called friends would behave differently when faced with women as their newest prospects. They had no choice. They’re lives depended on us and they couldn’t risk letting anyone not worthy into the club.
The hazing began the next morning. I was awoken at dawn despite the fact that I’d slept less than three hours. Bleary eyed I was thrown from my bed when the mattress was lifted along one side and I rolled off onto the hard wooden floor.
I grumbled, “What the hell? Is there trouble?” I covered my head with my arms to shut out the light that had so rudely been turned on.
“Only if you dare to disobey me or the other club members today. I warn you; you’re not going to like what happens from now on, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless you’re complaining to another prospect. Remember Vikki, you asked for this,” Prime sternly stated. “Don’t you dare let me down or make a fool out of me. I don’t react well to that sort of shit.”
I scowled at him. My belligerence showed in my stiff stance as I rose from the floor and faced him without trying to hide from him though I wore only panties and a transparent white tank. Once upon a time I’d have shown shame for my near nakedness, but I fought against that desire in order to prove I was as strong and hard to handle as any man who’d come before me.
“I won’t disappoint you. You can trust me to handle whatever is thrown at me, including rude awakenings like today,” I boldly announced.
His eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth thinned. “I hope for your sake that’s true. As the first women prospects you and Flame will be put through more than the men have ever endured. I’m certain you’ll be given tasks considered woman’s work that will anger you beyond reason just to rile you up. Don’t react. Just obey. The more you show that you feel disrespected the worse it will become.”
“Do you warn the men this way?” I asked while grinding my teeth.
He tilted his head and let a small grin escape. “You’ve got more spunk that I would have thought considering you’re all but naked and unarmed. Yes, I warn the male prospects, but not about women’s duties. They get those, but more often they’re forced to defend sudden attacks from out of nowhere, lift things that can’t be lifted, or repair bikes and trucks with nothing more than a hammer and screwdriver. There’s usually a lot of fighting, broken bones, and blood involved. I think things will be slightly different for you. The club members may not be sure how to deal with you, but we shall see. Get dressed and start scrubbing the bathrooms.”
“How is that supposed to prove I’m good enough to join the club?” I asked.
“It doesn’t. It’s to prove obedience. Hurry up!” he commanded.
I dressed in sweats and found an old pair of gloves under one of the sinks. From the looks of the first bathroom the men had purposely made them filthy just for me. I knew all the others would have trash tossed on the floor, wads of toothpaste in the sink, hair shavings everywhere, and a sudden lack of a man’s ability to hit the toilet when they aimed. It stunk more than I believed possible.
I wondered where Flame had been sent as I picked up several used condoms strewn over the floor and even in the shower. I hadn’t been told nor had I seen her. I gagged when I found a dead rat behind the toilet, obviously put there purposely since none where ever seen in the club.
I smelled just as much as the bathrooms once I’d finished scrubbing them. I was covered in bodily fluids of every kind and wanted a shower more than food. But it wasn’t going to be allowed. Ditch came toward me with a large bucket, a mop, and a rectangular scrub brush. He was followed by Doc who carried a small sack and a bottle of water.
Doc looked sympathetic when he handed me the sack and the water, but all he said was, “You have ten minutes to eat.”
Ditch added, “You start on cleaning the floor of this level after the ten minutes is up. The scrub brush is for the corners. It’s been a long time since those have gotten the attention they need. Flame has the next floor down, and we have a male prospect dealing with the bottom floor, so don’t start getting your hackles raised over women’s work.”
He didn’t have to explain himself to me, but he had. He was helping me understand the need to remain calm. Somehow that made it all worse. I doubted he’d explained anything to the male prospect, and probably not even Flame. I felt inferior. My face reddened and blazed with anger.
I ripped open the bag that held a sandwich and a cookie and began to eat with my filthy hands. I glared at them in defiance. They grinned at me and walked away.
My hands were aching, and my back felt as if the muscles had been torn. Two thirds of the floor was clean and shining, including the corners where some nastiness I couldn’t identify had resided for what had to have been several years. Obviously, no male prospect was ever commanded to get down on his knees and scrub, at least not in recent history.
I decided to start on the stairs where I could sit instead of wearing out my knees and back. However, I’d only gotten to the sixth one when large, muddy feet appeared over my shoulder. More than one club member stepped over me leaving muddy tracks mixed with grease or oil. I realized they’d come from the garage where the trucks and bikes were being repaired or had maintenance done. They’re owners were seeking a shower and showed no concern over screwing with my clean floors.
“Damn you all to hell!” I cursed at them, wanting to spit on them.
My words brought out some cruel laughter and the derisive announcement, “I guess you’ll just have to start over.”
“I wouldn’t sleep too deeply tonight if I were any of you assholes,” I declared. “I might come in and slice your fucking throats!”