by Isoellen
Chapter 8
She lost track of time. It had been a very long day. The women of Constantine’s harem slicked stuff on every inch of her, rubbed it in, then ushered her into a bath.
Food was offered and declined. They pulled her out of the bath, back to the chair, and more thick creamy stuff went all over her body. They buttered her like toast—even her hair didn't escape treatment.
They brought clothes, holding them up for Sasha's inspection while her hands and feet were soaking in warm waxy stuff and her face was coated in frothy green gunk. Barely able to open her eyes to look, she saw wrap dresses in every color like armless dancing partners waiting to be chosen.
To her horror, Sasha realized the collective decision for Sasha's jewel color was pale baby pink.
When they let her go to bed and Sasha parted the curtains to the little tent, she found a luxurious, pink feminine hideaway.
If she’d had any energy left, she would have gagged.
Tomorrow this would be sorted out.
Tonight, despite the horrible color, she fell asleep. Every bit of fabric soothed her senses. It was so soft, like the belly of a baby rabbit. It all smelled good too, the smell of sweet baked treats in the marketplace.
Tomorrow she'd realize that not only had a color been chosen for her, but a smell as well. Tomorrow she would be disgusted that someone had placed the deciding vote on her being the pink vanilla cake jewel.
*
Her day began early the next morning. Sasha always woke up with the drones at home, even when exhausted and stressed. In this strange pink confection of a bed, she hadn’t thought today would be any different.
Sasha still felt sleepy and unrested, which was unusual, until she heard the sounds from outside of her private chamber. Those noises had awakened her, not the dawn—little feminine cries and a masculine rumble.
She had to lay there and figure it out. One of the women sounded like she was in pain, but it couldn’t be pain, because she was asking—no, begging for more. And the male, growling like a massive prehistoric lion, reminded her that she would take what he gave her or get nothing at all.
Sex sounds.
On the other side of her curtains, sex was happening.
With only one day of exposure, identifying the unique voice of each woman who lived in the big room was impossible, but as female cries overlapped, Sasha realized more than one of them must be out there. Maybe all of them were.
Her suspicions that the male outside was Constantine were confirmed when one of the women began begging, "Alpha, please, please, I need your big cock."
He chuckled. "Poor, sweet thing. You're just going to have to wait."
"Alpha, Master, please!" the woman cried.
"That is enough, Eze." His voice hardened in reprimand.
She heard movement. They were right there. Sasha's head was facing the wrong direction, or else she could part the curtain and see everything as well as hear it.
"Bella, spank Eze. Now," Kane commanded.
Sasha winced. Merrick liked to spank, hit, and leave bruises too.
"My pleasure," Bella purred. Her voice alone made Sasha's face feel hot and shamed. It was the only one she recognized that fit with a face in her head. Dark-haired, red clothed—a breeder, who like Sasha had no mark on her hand. Did she have a mark somewhere else?
Earlier she had seemed offended for Sasha's sake. And protective, more than once steering questions about Sasha's personal life to the more mundane, safe areas. Sasha should like her. She liked everyone.
Everyone except for Bella.
"No, alpha. No!" the one called Eze was crying out dramatically.
"Do you need to be whipped, then?"
"Oh, alpha, I just need you." She answered in a baby girl voice.
While this conversation was happening, Sasha heard another woman whimpering and moaning in rhythmic response to pleasures inflicted on her body. Clearly, when it came to sex, Kane was a multitasker.
"Ardrua, Neena, help Bella with Eze and then come back to me. I'm not finished with my dessert." He was in there with all of them.
All of her hopes that this was not his harem were dashed completely.
Of course he had sex with the jewels. He was an alpha. Sasha learned in school all the different tendencies of the world's hormone driven designations. Like every king's citizen of the 12 Sectors, she had the minimum of five years of school from age seven to twelve:reading, writing, and math. The final year encompassed all three basics, plus added the subjects of history and health dynamics.
She had sat in a class of mixed boys and girls who had not yet entered puberty and been lectured on the expected behaviors, physical differences, and spectrum gifts of alphas, betas, omega breeders, and drones. Alphas were top of the food chain, driven by might makes right. A mature alpha's need for regular sex was as instinctual as it was biological. Lack of sex led to deadly aggression.
Some of the beta girls around her had laughed. Quipped that it was just an excuse for alphas to chase any female they could. But Sasha had seen it play out in real life more than once.
The king's law required an extra ten years of schooling for all who presented as an alpha; most of that was just to learn self-control so they didn't go around raping and killing everyone in the city. Alpha males who didn't complete that schooling and go into their thirty years of military service were either killed or became rogues from all sectors. Like Merrick.
Kane was in the other room engaging in normal, healthful alpha activity.
And it pleased him. His voice was drenched with pleasure, rolling over Sasha's skin like a caress. She found herself rubbing her face in the softest blanket, imagining that light touch of his on the back of her neck. She loved the sound of his pleasure, the rumble and burr of it. It turned her blood to honey, thick and heavy.
She knew this was the response of her own designation. Breeders preferred alpha mates. The stronger the alpha, the stronger the attraction.
That practical knowledge didn't help one bit when it came to the things just Kane's voice was making Sasha feel. His voice woke up sleeping nerve endings and engaged her underdeveloped omega breeder sensibilities.
So this was what it felt like to be an omega.
She didn't like hearing the giving and getting of pleasure, the interruptions of wet smacking and breathy female moans and pleas. The sounds invaded like the heady fumes of fresh alcohol, stripping away her norms without permission.
Sasha had only met Constantine Kane yesterday, mere hours ago, and he’d claimed he didn’t want her. But Sasha's instincts didn’t care what he’d said. Something inside her screamed at the insult of those other women being in that room with the man she intended to make her mate. Sasha didn’t have it in her to share.
Neither her father nor Merrick had been faithful to her mother, but for some reason, Sasha had naively assumed whoever she chose as a husband would only desire her.
In every dream and practical plan she’d come up with for choosing a male from the Selection, she’d picked one who wanted a true bond relationship with his breeder mate. He would want her children, her love, and her full breeder's blessing. Never once did she pick an alpha with a harem tucked away in his home.
The females sounded lost and needy. Sasha didn't want to hear them anymore. Her space felt invaded by the carnal noises even as Kane's voice rubbed at her senses and tempted her curiosity.
One after another, the women begged for more, for his hand, his mouth, his cock. Where were they putting all his parts? Why did they need so much?
And when it was too big, because betas just weren't built to take an alpha, he encouraged them with a coaxing growl, called them “sweetheart” and “darling.” And that growl brushed over Sasha like an invisible hand, stroking her in places she had never, ever been touched.
The jewels moaned and gasped, making sounds in tempo to Kane's actions. One by one he used them. Fucked each of them. The women said they couldn't take any more, couldn't come again
, but he said they would take what he had to give and not complain.
Complainers were given swats on some fleshy part of their body. More than one female wept softly. The noise of it went on and on, the five women tiring, Kane tireless.
Without knowing how she got there, Sasha found herself lying on the floor in her flimsy pink nightgown, pulling back the curtains to see.
The massive windows were now shaded, the big room lit with only lamps. The space glowed with warm, low light.
The six of them were on that big platform couch, using it like a bed. Arms and legs tangled up. The bodies moving, languorous and rhythmic. The sensual sight of it warmed Sasha from head to toe with more than just an embarrassed blush. She was long past blushing.
Don't want to be here. Don't want to see this. Go to sleep.
Instead she closed her eyes, breathing in the heady smell of their exertions. She knew what sex smelled like—she lived in a brothel, after all—but this sex didn't include things like fear, hunger, or desperation. It wasn't tainted by shine sweat or intoxication. This was pure pleasure and desire.
Sasha couldn't help but suck in that smell, musky and soaked with Kane's special pheromone spice. It stirred up all the genetic memory of her breeder instincts.
It made her desire.
The bodies were all layered and fit together. It looked like all five of the women were with him at once. Kane's back faced her. He was a triangle plank of curved muscles down to his round, pumping ass and the strong, hairy columns of his thick legs.
His muscles moved in a beautiful ripple. And he had no tattoos. Just scars. Lots of scars. Like her. Sasha liked that. She couldn't say why, but those scars were attractive enough to tempt her into leaving the tent so she could touch them, trace the interruptions in the velvet of his dusky, glowing skin.
The flex of his bottom, the smooth movement forward and back, almost a glide, mesmerized her.
What did his face look like? Would she see his pleasure in his eyes, his mouth, the flare of his nostrils? Would his sharp cheeks be flagged in color? What was his cock doing to the woman in front of him?
Sasha knew what brothel sex looked like. The education had been unwanted.
Yet her mouth watered at the thought of Kane educating her.
He knelt on the floor. Behind him, hands running over the sculpted muscles of his back, bottom and legs, pressing herself against him, was the blonde. His hips moved forward and back into a woman on all fours in front of him. Sasha could see a brunette head, long hair flowing, between his slightly spread thighs, pressing up, doing something.
Beside him, also on all fours, knees bent, there was another female, her butt in the air, his thick fingers moving there. That woman—the redhead, had her face awkwardly bent into the crotch of a fourth woman. Both that woman’s hands were holding fistfuls of silky, red hair, forcing the redhead's face close and using her for her pleasure.
Sasha saw a fourth woman, the only woman turned in Sasha's direction.
That woman’s black hair shone blue in the light, the ends draped over her delicate shoulders to curl around the tips of full breasts. They bounced and swayed as she moved her hips into the redhead's face. Her waist dipped inward in an enviable curve to become perfectly rounded hips, the classic hourglass shape of a mature omega breeder.
Bella.
Bella met Sasha's eyes and smiled, a subtle curl of her plump, wet lips. Her eyes glittered.
Nope. Sasha really didn't like Bella.
She dropped the curtain, scrambled back to the bed, and pulled the pillows over her head to block out the pleasure sounds. It didn't help.
Exhausted from the day before, she drifted, unable to fully sleep with the activity just beyond her bed, but so worn out that she wasn't awake either. There were moans and whimpers, pleas and begging, followed by satisfied exhalations of “yes, yes, I'm coming, I'm coming!” It was beautiful and lewd at the same time, and utterly inescapable.
*
Kane was in there for hours. Every time he spoke, some place on Sasha’s body would twinge as if he'd touched her. The silence of his finishing and leaving the room was a sudden shock. She must have drifted, because one moment he was in the next room, growling softly at one of his women, and then he was gone.
She felt his absence keenly, a change in the atmosphere she had to adjust to. He'd gone to his own bed. She could relax now. Sleep now.
She might have slept better if he had stopped having sex, but stayed in the room.
At some point the luxury of the bed she was in became an irritation. Her skin felt tight and hot, the little tent an airless prison. Her body hurt and ached. Her head pounded with each beat of her heart, the lack of sleep making her sick.
She decided she needed the toilet. When she opened the curtain to leave her tent, she found three drones cleaning the room. They piled up the used blankets, pillows, and soft things and exchanged them for fresh ones.
As she watched, they removed the stained cover of the platform bed and wadded it up, replacing it with a new, clean one. They sprayed air freshener and wiped things down with an efficiency that said they had attended this room many times.
All of the five jewels were absent. Likely they were sleeping off the night’s activities in their own tents.
"Good morning," Sasha greeted the servants.
They turned in startled surprise. "Oh, miss," the one nearest her said, "We didn't mean to disturb you. Please forgive us. Just freshening up a bit."
"I'm Sasha. What's your name?"
The woman smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I'm Girta, miss. Please, we will be finished in just a bit, if it's no bother?"
"No bother at all. I'm glad you are here. You guys are good. I didn't even hear you. That's kind of amazing. And you work fast too. Thank you for doing this. I don't think I could inhale that smell all day and still stay sane. I was hoping I could bother you, actually."
"Miss." Girta's smile grew bigger at the compliment, showing her teeth, which most drones never did because it could be considered a challenge. "You couldn't be a bother if you tried, I'm sure. What can I do for you? Are you hungry? We don't usually bring breakfast this early, but it would be no trouble."
"Well, morning tea and some of that fresh fruit would be amazing. I don't get much fruit at home. I hate to be demanding, but also, I really need some regular clothes. Not pink. Just something normal. A long tunic? Leggings, maybe? Not these rainbow jewel colors, either. By the rod, no."
Sasha giggled a little and waved her hands around her. She liked the colors of this room, the brightness of it, but she did not want to be associated with it. She was not one of these jewels, nor would she ever be.
The drone woman looked confused. "Miss Bella and Madam Terasa didn't get you a wardrobe?"
Sasha pursed her lips. "Yeah, they did, but it's not right. I'd like something regular. Something your daughter would wear, maybe? I'd be so much more comfortable. Terasa said you would get me what I needed. Oh, and some medicine for a headache, please?"
"My daughter? But you are not a drone." Girta wore a scandalized expression.
"You won't help me?"
"Miss, don't say that! Of course I will help you. I'm just sure that Miss Bella has already provided clothes."
Sasha tried to think of what to say. Clearly the drone didn't want to counter whatever Miss Bella wanted. She must be in charge in this room.
"Alpha Kane and Terasa said you could get me what I needed, but I really need different clothing. This is all so... strange for me. I didn't sleep last night, and I feel like I'm getting sick now." She made a sour face, hoping to tug at the older woman’s heartstrings.
"I'm not comfortable in these clothes." She pulled at the gauzy pink nightgown they had put her in last night. There was a rack of pink clothing the same color inside her tent. Sasha was not going to wear any of it.
"I'm going to see Kane today. I don't want you to worry. I'll tell him a new outfit was my idea. And you don't have to worry about upsetting B
ella, either. I'm not going to be staying in this room again tonight. I think I’ll go home after my appointment. So, can you help me? I promise I won't let you get into trouble."
Poor Girta didn't know what to make of her. Sasha was upsetting the hierarchy of the room. Drones knew to follow orders and recognize the roles of a household. It was part of their training. It kept them safe. She wanted to help the little omega, wanted to give in and obey, but the woman’s loyalties were obviously already reserved for someone else. It was going to take more than one conversation to change her mind.
"Well, I'll go see if I can find you something. But until then, let me show you where the teeth freshener is at and all of that, and when you're finished, there will be some tea and fruit. And your head hurts, you said? I know a tea perfect for that. Does that sound alright?"
Sasha thought there was tension in the other woman’s shoulders and bitterness in her scent, which made her think that Girta wasn't going to follow through on the clothes thing. She was too unwilling to risk her position or earn a punishment for a girl she didn't know.
Girta led her downstairs to a vanity that held the toiletries, as well as four entire drawers devoted to hair care products.
Sasha tried to soothe her and convince her that doing what Sasha wanted was a good idea, but Girta was stubborn. A mature looking drone with creases at the corners of her eyes, she must have worked her position for a long time to be so loyal and not fall to Sasha's influence. Drones always loved Sasha and wanted to please her.
But Girta wasn't hers. She was Bella's. What was she doing, manipulating drones just to get different clothes?
Sasha always made an effort to treat the bottom social class like the human beings they were. The ruling class that Sasha was part of was composed of breeders, betas, and alphas. They had risen from the drones that survived what the history books called the desolation of humanity hundreds of years ago.
War, plagues, famine, an alien invasion—they had survived it all. After the desolation wiped out billions of people, it was drone technology and alien stem cells that had overcome the infertility problem plaguing humanity.