“Be quiet,” the master said. “Have omegas lost all sense of their place in the world?”
“Magnus, she is special.” Magnus, my Master’s name was Magnus. It tasted rich and powerful on my tongue. “Her blood heals minds.”
The fingers carding through my hair stilled. “Is that what your pet tells you while your knot stretches his ass?”
“I haven’t touched him. It is against the law, and he cannot know who I am to him. But when the time comes, I will claim my other half.”
I was not part of their conversation. But I did not mind, for it allowed me to gather information about this new demi-reality. I even permitted my master to pull my back flush to his chest. My anger toward him had not abated, but years of schooling my face, of hiding my thoughts, allowed that fury to boil unnoticed.
Then something warm and hard pressed against my thigh. An erection. When I reached down to stroke it, the conversation stopped. My master caught my chin and twisted me so that we could look at each other. His colorless eyes flashed like I was an annoying dog begging for a bone.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I have never touched...”
“I’ve seen you touch and fuck hundreds of cocks over lifetimes. Don’t act like a virgin. I’ve never liked that.”
“She is one,” the governor said. “They cannot touch us, and we cannot touch them. They are all virgins.”
“Is that true?” His grip on my face tightened. His hand was inhumanly large.
“Yes. I told you last time.”
“Suck it, then. Prove your innocence.”
A growl tickled my throat, yet like a trained bitch, I shifted so that I was facing him and looked at where I gripped his cock. His skin was as soft as satin, and I regretted that my hands were rough and dry.
“I told you to suck,” he snarled, “not to look. Do you need to be told what to do?”
“Put the tip in your mouth,” the governor urged me.
I scoffed. I knew what to do, at least in theory.
I bent so that I could wrap my lips around the flared head. A pearl of precum tempted my tongue, which reached out and licked before I sucked around the swollen tip and took it deep into my throat. As I had said, I knew the theory, but the master’s thick length made me gag and choke when he gripped my head and forced himself deeper. I struggled, my airway blocked, but he wouldn’t let up.
I clawed at his thighs, but just as my vision spotted, he pulled me back and I took a gasping breath into my burning lungs. I heaved, though nothing came out, and struggled to pull away from my master. He kept a tight grip on my hair, but didn’t force me down onto him again.
“Never given a man or woman pleasure…” he murmured in wonder.
He pushed me away and reared above me, kneeling between my legs, his cock—hard and proud and glistening with my spit—angled up toward his stomach, which flexed with deeply definedmuscles. He reached down, and I tried to close my thighs. Though in the marble hall I had a working cunt, we were in my sleeping room, and things were different here in a way I did not quite understand.
What if he could not enter me because of my hymen that completely sealed my womb from penetration? What if it hurt, and that hurt did not go away?
“Don’t,” I begged, and hated myself for the fear and the loss of the anger that I’d carefully fed for weeks.
My master did not care. He forced two fingers into my tight cunt, breaching my maidenhead, and I screamed in agony. Fresh tears coursed down my face even after the first sting had vanished.
“What did they do to you?” He pulled his fingers free and looked dazed by the smear of blood on them.
“I told you.” My voice was hoarse and clogged with snot and tears. “Only an alpha can take us, and all of you have gone. The betas believe us diseased, cursed.”
“They have hobbled you. Omegas are there to give pleasure. They have maimed your souls.” His head whipped toward the governor, who watched us with sad eyes. “You knew?”
“I tried to stop it. The convents are law unto themselves,” the governor said.
My master turned to look down on me. “You cannot feel pleasure?”
“No one has cared to try.”