Brenya gave up. She gave up and cried, eyes roving to find that at the end of the dank alley a few spectators stood by and did nothing while she was publicly mounted.
These things did not happen in Bernard Dome.
Teeth grazed her throat. She heard him whisper, “Mon petit chou.” —my little sweetheart.
Fluid gummed up sore thighs, made him slip and stretch a part of her that ached and smelled of blood.
The graze of his tongue traced from the hollow of her throat to the tip of her chin, the male pulling back to meet dulled eyes. He brought those swollen lips to the shell of the poor girl’s ear. Even as he grumbled, there was no pause in the upward pistoning of his hips. “Mon chou, you must relax and accept me or my knot will hurt you.”
“Please…”
She could feel the horror of what he referred to, a bulbous thing growing outside her opening. He’d failed to fully penetrate, no matter how he’d thrust. If he thought to shove that inside her, she knew she would die.
One arm hitched under her bottom, the other circling her neck, he bent her back, he opened her up. The sound that came from him as he pressed his cock forward, nothing in the world had ever unnerved her so deeply. Legs shaking, the lower half of her body lost in convulsions, those last inches burrowed their way into her organs. The growing knot was at her lower lips, she could feel its heat and pulse. When he forced it forward, the thing popped past the threshold and he fully invaded her body—only for his cock to expand to a point the pressure on her bladder grew, and she was certain she would urinate.
Something else came out of the female, strange smelling fluid squirted between their bodies, dripped down her rear, onto his legs, and all over the cobblestone ground.
The stranger ground his hips, still rutting as much as their joined bodies would allow. His sack tightened and the man cried out.
Mouth open in a silent scream, she felt it, that first wave of fire. He dumped an ocean of seed inside her, the Alpha coming over and over until Brenya was certain she would burst.
Eyes closed, she felt the nature of his touch alter. Above where his cock destroyed her, his thumb began to play. “That’s it, sweet girl.”
She knew what it was he touched—the nerve bundle that made mating pleasurable for Beta females. Parting her lashes to look down from where her head hung, she found hers swollen and distended from the abuse.
He was playing with her, sliding his slippery touch in insistent circles. All it led to was cramps and a wave of scorching fire. Brenya felt them consume her, burn through her veins until her insides began to rhythmically squeeze and he began to groan. On and on it went, her body bowed and legs mindlessly kicking.
She had zero control. She had no way of stopping it. It hurt—the worst pain she’d ever known—but it also felt as if the gods had filled her with sunlight, and it was that light that was going to incinerate her very being. Orgasm they called la petite mort, the little death, and in that moment, Brenya finally understood why.Sound, the whimpers of a wounded animal, woke her. Every exhale held a whine, every inhale the shallow sounds of fear. Three breaths deep and Brenya realized that pathetic music was coming from her.
Soft linen lay under her cheek, body completely cocooned where she’d curled into a tight ball. Her good hand was pressed between bruised thighs, every muscle on fire, but it was nothing to the burn between her legs.
When she thought she might faint from the heat, a cool cloth passed over her forehead, her cheek, sweet ice trailing down her neck.
Somewhere behind her a man spoke, his voice tired. “Blood tests are conclusive. The Omega has not entered proper Estrous. Due to an inundation of Beta chemical conditioning, her body has turned on itself with misfired signals, fever, and an inflamed nervous system.”
“How is it that no one knew what she was?”
That low rumbled timbre she recognized. Knowing it was he who lingered so close, who touched her, sent Brenya into a panic. She tried to squirm away but could hardly move before a much stronger body was pressing her back. “Hush now, my girl. You’re safe.”
Safe? Was he insane?
“No…” pleas were jumbled, Brenya blubbering as if under an ocean of boiling tar. “Don’t.”
“Rest.” That cool cloth was pressed gently to her marred cheek. “I won’t leave you.”
A nearby feminine voice suggested, “Maybe you should leave…”
An Alpha’s answering growl silenced the unknown female. “You are here to witness, not to speak, Annette.”
The female offered a timid, “She’s afraid of you, Jacques.”
“She’s sick.” A hand settled on Brenya’s skull, fingers threading through tangled hair. “She’s confused. That’s all. She doesn’t understand what was done or why.”