She nodded, picking at a piece of bread.
It had been only a few hours since she’d woken. Many things had been said, much of it out of her understanding. There were words thrown around she’d never heard, insinuations, expectations... none of it clear. Daring to glace up from her plate, she met the sergeant’s eyes and asked, “Why am I here if not to be punished?”
“Eat three more bites.” He waited as she did so, stoic yet continuing to purr. When the last of her food was swallowed down, he said, “You are here to be made whole.”
Taking her by the elbow again, he led her to the center of the room She was made to sit on a bench facing the forest view. “Keep your eyes on the screen. When I return, we will discuss what you’ve learned. Do not make me describe what will happen should you disobey.”
***
Her hair had dried, her skin was dry, but the cushion under her body was saturated with unwelcome, slippery fluid. Little puddles collected on the floor where liquid dripped from the bench or ran down in rivulets over calves and bare feet.
The air in the room was drenched in an unusual sweet scent.
Slick, as Sergeant Uriel had called it, seasoned every breath.
No matter how she tried to will it away, she could not stop more from leaking.
And she had tried. Bunching up the front panel of her skirt and pressing it between her legs had not helped. The fabric had grown soaked, and now stuck to her skin in a way that made her want to remove it completely.
Every inch where the blue gown clung felt itchy, so itchy, that had she been back in her cottage, she would have torn the damn thing off and let the air play against her skin instead.
These unnatural feelings and thoughts, Morgaine understood where they come from. It was the wall before her, alive again with provocative images.
And she had been told to sit and pay attention.
The things displayed were vulgar in nature, though little could be seen beyond a pretty girl’s expression and the bunching musculature of the male’s back who pinned her down. It was more the story told in lascivious groans and coarse grunts as that unseen man surged forward, over and over. The Alpha’s every sound was obscene, the volume turned up to echo loudly throughout Morgaine’s room. The girl the Omega projected on the wall, her eager moans and keen cries were even louder.
Like Esmerelda’s, the unnamed female’s irises had been eaten up fully by a black pupil. Only this time, Morgaine had watched the transformation from honey-eyed innocent, to black-eyed... she was not even sure what to call such a wanton female. Whore?
The male called her mate. And then he had growled at her until the woman was practically salivating.
It was not a noise that inspired lust upon the room’s solo audience. The Alpha’s growl had been animalistic and dangerous, similar in tone to the low-pitched rumble that had come from Esin when he’d pawed her body earlier.
She had hated the sound of it… yet against her will, it had inspired a fresh rush of slick to warm her thighs.
When the Alpha on screen had pushed his mate down, Morgaine had been unable to see what made the girl squeal. All she could see was the look on the Omega’s face, and how her breath had caught with that first sharp surge.
The beast used her roughly and for an extended period of time, until the girl was screaming for release, until even Morgaine had dug her fingernails into her palms in anticipation of this thing she’d only heard whispered about between the girls back home.
And then the roar.
It shook the room, shook Morgaine, and left the place between her legs clenching around a sorry feeling of emptiness.
She even whimpered, her nipples growing so tight they throbbed.
“He is knotting her now, the base of his member expanding inside her body as he ejaculates.”
Distracted by lewd images, the pulsing, plumped flesh between her legs, and the unrelenting itch to rub the ache from her breasts, she’d not heard Sergeant Uriel return. Eyes wide, she darted a glance over her shoulder, embarrassed to be seen in such a state.
There was no way to hide her drenched lap, the puddles, where her hands had wandered… the smell.
Smell? Yes there was a delightful smell. Nostrils flaring, she took in a deep breath. Musk… rich spiced skin. Sweat.
Like a starving woman, she closed her eyes as she savored the taste on her tongue.
“If you were to look at yourself right now, Morgaine, you would find your eyes mirr
or the Omega in the image. Your pupils are blown, your cunt has grown ripe and ushers slick. Both reactions entice an Alpha into the rut. Were you in estrous, like the Omega on the screen, they would be compounded, and you would be begging any male to ease your excitement. You would be unable to stop yourself.”