Complete Control

by L. V. Lane

  “Make sure there are a couple of Beta guards outside the curtain. I don’t expect any interruptions. No matter how much she screams.”

  Screams?

  “Yes, sir!”

  The Healer fled.

  No! He couldn’t mean to do this? The predatory gleam in his eyes said he was absolutely going to do this.

  “I…I should…I need to see my parents!” This couldn’t possibly be legal?

  “No one is going to save you, little Omega,” he said, confirming my fears. He was an Alpha, and they were above normal laws. He turned and snapped open a folding chair that had been propped against the side of the bed. It creaked ominously when he sat on it. Then he crooked his finger at me. “Come here.”

  I shook my head. Was he crazy?

  “You’re getting ten smacks. I’m adding five every time you shake your head or refuse to follow my instructions. Get over here and be quick about it.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, too terrified to move and too terrified to stay, and not yet sure which fear would prevail.

  “Kitten,” he said in a deep, commanding voice that said I was on my last warning. He pointed at the ground in front of him.

  It snapped me out of my funk.

  I scooted off the bed and shuffled slowly over, biting my lip and praying this wasn’t going to be as bad as it sounded. I was tiny compared to normal people, he was a behemoth compared to normal people, the disparity could not be more extreme.

  His big fingers closed over my wrist gently, and he drew me to his right side. My wrist disappeared under his hand, and the connection caused heat to bloom in the pit of my stomach. “Over you go, kitten.” He patted his lap. “Your behavior has been unacceptable, and you’re due ten good hard smacks.”

  “What kind of person says things like that?!” I would have bolted had he not still held my wrist.

  At his soft growl, I stilled.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I just—”

  “Fifteen.”

  “No!”

  “Bend over this instant, or it’s going to be twenty!”

  I flew over his lap.

  It was a precarious position. I felt his hand close over the back of my head. He stroked fingers through my hair in a way that might have soothed me had I not been so hyper-aware of the other hand that settled to cup my bottom. I was experiencing a mutinous level of fury.

  “Good girl.”

  I felt more heat pool between my legs. And that really ticked me off.

  “Punishment is best done on a naked ass. I’m going to make an exception for you.”

  I bit back a snarky response. I wasn’t convinced my silk pajamas would offer much protection, but I felt better about being covered. And I had no desire to further provoke the beast. I think there might have been a full-scale rebellion if he tried to take them down—then I wondered how it would feel if he had decided to slip my silk shorts down…my head began to buzz.

  “For such a tiny thing, you have a plump ass.” He gave it a gentle squeeze, and I had to bite my lip to smother a moan. “It’s going to hurt, but it’s a punishment, so it’s supposed to. Go ahead and cry or scream. Do what you need to.”

  The hand toying with my hair moved to the center of my back.

  The first blow shocked me.

  The third ignited a fire.

  By the fifth, tears were streaming.

  By the tenth, I was sobbing uncontrollably and begging him to stop.

  I don’t remember how we got to fifteen.

  Something had broken inside me. I don’t even know what short-circuit had occurred in my brain, but I desperately wanted to be cuddled.

  He was having none of it. He set me on the floor and made me kneel there between his splayed legs where I was instructed to, “Think about what you’ve done.”

  I knelt there, fussing and crying, and ready to maim someone—specifically him—as I watched him adjust that thick bulge between his legs.

  I wanted it, his cock, wanted to feel it against the sensitive bud between my legs.

  “Look all you want, kitten. This isn't for you.”

  “Why?” I felt very disgruntled about this and made no attempt to hide it. Clearly, he wanted to…or maybe not.

  “Because I say so.” He gave me an up, down assessing look and added, “This isn’t for you—ever.”

  I didn’t think words could cut me so deeply. Utterly overwrought by this whole experience, I cried harder while he took out a data tablet from his pocket and scrolled through the information. He paid me no heed. As the minutes passed my distress was eventually overwritten by the growing ache in my knees. I began to fuss for different reasons.

  Putting the data tablet away, he frowned at me, and I felt a terrible worry that I was going to get another spanking. But he scooped me up off the floor and put me on his lap, making the chair creak alarmingly.

  When he drew me into his arms and wiped the tears from my cheeks, I cried harder. “Good girl,” he said as he rubbed my sore knees. A gentle rumble came from deep in his chest that was so comforting I could not remember why I had been so upset.

  I clung to him, pressing as tightly as I could.

  I was changed then, and not just because I had revealed as an Omega. He had changed me, conditioned me, and I could not be changed back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Anna

  Two years later…

  THE SPACEPORT AT Primus9 had turned into a circus. It wasn’t the largest military port, that honor belonged to Kix4, but I’d heard Primus9 had the biggest throughput. If the crowded corridors were any indication, even this mighty model of efficiency was feeling the strain.

  There were queues absolutely everywhere.

  I felt like I spent the last twenty-four hours shuffling from one line to another. Health check, inoculations, authorizations, and even an hour with a psychologist to make sure I wasn’t about to have a meltdown on the operation.

  Finally, with my updated approvals in place, I had taken my sleep break, before heading to the recruiter for allocation on the next operation.

  After another hour in a queue, I was called into a boxy room that made me feel claustrophobic. It had one of those fake-window screen things that were supposed to give the impression that you were somewhere pleasant. It was broken, and instead displayed a flashing error message that, within seconds, bugged the hell out of me.

  The recruiting officer appeared oblivious to the blinking message…and the queue.

  He had been staring at his information tablet for several minutes and had yawned twice during this time as he tapped and swiped over the device. His blue recruitment uniform appeared to be a size too small and bulged over his chest in a way that made me worry for the integrity of the clips. Finally, he looked up blinking as if surprised to find me waiting on the other side of his desk. “Do you have any questions for me, Anna?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” I said, and silently cursed myself. Sometimes I hated being an Omega, hated my subservient nature, my natural desire to show deference, even to a man like the recruiter, who was a nobody and barely had any presence or authority beyond my own.

  Aspects of my personality had changed since I’d revealed my dynamic. Sometimes I felt like a sleepwalker. Like my body just reacted and a few seconds later my mind would catch up, and I would feel annoyed with myself.

  “None at all?” He propped an elbow on the table, and using his fist as a chin-rest, resumed the information swiping. The new position put additional strain on his uniform clips and made for compulsive viewing.

  “No, sir,” I said. I wondered what he was expecting. What did questions matter? I was about to be deployed and had no say in where I went or who I went there with.

  “There was a delay…but your protection has now been allocated,” he said. “Big bastard. Real pissed about the allocation.” He smiled faintly. “I guess not everyone is happy with a Healer detail. He’s an Alpha, and a team leader according to the report.” He indicated hi
s information tablet, eyes alighting with subtle interest. “Probably had his sights on a nice little Singular before they allocated him to you. Yeah, the guy was really pissed.”

  I wished he would go back to being bored…or forgetting I was here. Other Omegas were outside the room awaiting allocation. It was just unfortunate that I’d been the one given to an Alpha—almost cruel.

  An Alpha probably thought this detail was beneath him.

  I sighed.

  This detail was beneath him.

  “Prefers blondes,” the recruiter added, giving me a slow, appraising look. “Big tits and a big ass—his words not mine. He argued with the operation manager for half an hour. Wanted to know what was wrong with the algorithm thinking this was a good match. Like I said, real pissed.”

  I had met some obnoxious recruiters in my time, but this one was exceptional! “Then why has he been allocated to me?” I asked. I honestly didn’t understand why this would be going ahead.

  I felt like a sacrifice whose god had just said, no thanks. I fought down a bitter laugh; it was a surprisingly accurate analogy.

  “The decision has been made,” he said. “His operation manager just sent notification that he’s on his way.”

  My eyes searched the tiny office as if there was somewhere I could run and hide. I wasn’t ready for this; I wasn’t prepared for an Alpha.

  Two years ago, I’d gotten all the Alpha attention I ever needed. I did not want to experience that again.

  “The situation is desperate on Sidious,” the recruiter continued, oblivious to my distressed state. “We’re sending every available Healer there. It’s a short operation, and we’re pulling the Alphas in given the level of violence. Still, times are changing—I heard they might be phasing Beta Controllers out.”

  None of this pleased me. Healers were sent wherever they were needed most, and this was often to a site of great conflict. But allocating Alphas felt extreme; usually, they were reserved for special operations.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and this time I cringed.

  Inspecting me again, the recruiter shook his head. “You’re small, even for an Omega. If we weren’t allocating every available unit, I’m sure they’d have paired you with someone less—” he shrugged. “You get the idea.”

  I felt myself shrinking. The recruiter was right, I was small for an Omega, and I lacked experience. I glanced down at the cream silk dress covering my small frame. It wasn’t tight, but it clung to my slight body perfectly. It provided easy access and could be completely removed via a single clip. Healers were natural givers and we were encouraged to give in more ways than just healing. With only a year since my first deployment, requiring allocated protection, I was still learning what it was to be a Healer. I was still coming to terms with my dynamic and the investment encouraged between an Omega and their Controller.

  Investment, just a fancy way of saying intimacy. When I had revealed as an Omega, on that fateful day of the attack, I hadn’t realized what it meant. I didn’t understand that my body would no longer be my own, and that I would be expected to submit.

  The light on his desk turned green. “Ah, right on time.”

  The door behind me opened, and I felt power rushing in, rendering the recruiter a dead moon beside a blazing sun. And blood, there was so much blood—the smell of blood did unpleasant things to a Healer.

  Not his blood. The wave of raw vitality said he was unharmed, and so vibrant that I wondered if more than one person had just entered the room. I glanced over my shoulder and then snapped back to the front.

  My head started to buzz in a strangely familiar way.

  “I think there has been a mistake,” I said quietly. I wanted to look again, to double check because this could not possibly be happening.

  And yes, there was only one person behind me. One huge Alpha…who was covered in copious amounts of blood.

  I wasn’t ready for an Alpha. Beta Controllers were more than enough to manage me, and they did so with ease.

  And I would never be ready for him. A point he had made more than clear two years ago.

  “Fuck me,” Hudson growled. “They said you were small. Don’t they fucking feed you?”

  My shoulders stiffened.

  “And full of attitude,” he added softly, but his next words dripped with threat. “Don’t think about giving me any trouble. I promise you it won’t end well.”

  Wilting under the pressure of his censure, my hands trembled so badly that I clenched them into tiny fists and prayed he would not notice. The not bored version of the recruiter was lapping the show up.

  My new Controller stepped up, and his energy poured over me. I whimpered as he closed his fingers around the back of my neck and gave a gentle warning squeeze. “I will have complete control, Healer.”

  I didn’t doubt him.

  He didn’t bother to acknowledge the recruiter, just pulled me about using that firm hand and directed me out of the room.

  “How long was that cretin eyeballing you?”

  Aggression rolled off of him, fury at the recruiter for looking at what he now considered his. Chemicals were flooding his system, shifting his glowing energy to one of deadly threat. It wasn’t appropriate to use my skills without a valid medical reason, but I concentrated on the place our skin connected and tried to project calm.

  I stumbled at the recoil, and his fingers tightened, steadying me.

  “Careful, kitten,” he growled.

  I sent him a sideways glance and wondered if he had noticed what I just tried to do.

  Nothing.

  A foolish risk, but one I had gotten away with. Strict rules existed about when and how we used our skills, drummed into us during training. The unofficial training, word of mouth between more experienced Omegas and their young protégés, said you used it whenever and wherever you needed. Controllers could be—enthusiastic—in their duties, and most Healers said they tempered the extreme dynamic. I had used it a couple of times when their post-battle bloodlust had been frighteningly high.

  Stalking along the corridor, he took me with him, his hand like a brand around my neck, so large that his fingers surrounded my whole throat. We passed other soldiers and personnel on the short walk to the ship, and every single one of them averted their eyes.

  As a Healer, I was aware of his inner vitality, but others still sensed the threat.

  A rough shake startled me from my rumination. “Answer my question. How long?”

  Question? What question? Right, the recruiter. “I…he was mostly bored.”

  “Mostly?” Glancing up, I found his sharp gaze on me. He had indigo-blue eyes and dark hair slightly longer than strict military code. His face was still the hard angles I remembered, not softened by even a hint of a smile. He was primal—wild, deadly, and like any dangerous animal, he was both beautiful and terrifying to behold.

  I looked away. “He said you complained about the allocation.” The words tumbled out. It was impossible to deny his request while his big hand was clasped around my neck like this. “He said that I wasn’t what you wanted. That you preferred—” I cut myself off, not brave enough to say the actual words aloud. “The recruiter wasn’t interested in me. I think he thought the allocation was funny.”

  “I’m going to strangle that scrawny fuck,” he muttered.

  His vitality spiked as adrenaline flooded forth, so I didn’t think he was making an idle threat. I thought about how they might be putting the recruiter’s battered body through a rehabilitation chamber tomorrow. I tried to summon guilt at how much I liked the sound of that.

  “And trust me, he was enjoying the show.” He shook his head. “Why don’t Healers wear proper fucking clothes?” Then muttered quieter. “Why don’t you ever wear proper fucking clothes?”

  I’d wondered if he’d remembered me when he first called me kitten. Now I was sure he did. That had been two long years ago. I must have been a frightening mess at the time, covered in dirt and blood. They had taken me to get cleaned
up after he had finished disciplining me, and I’d barely recognized myself.

  I smoothed my dress self-consciously. “I might have called him sir,” I said softly.

  “Might have?” A brief squeeze on my throat denied me air for a terrifying moment. “You called that prick sir? That stops right now. You don’t give up your submission to anyone but your Controller, again. Understand?”

  What was wrong with me? Why would I offer that ridiculous detail up? “Yes, sir.” Biting my lip, I cursed myself until his low chuckle made my stomach dip.

  “Healers, always so fucking needy.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I have always had a fondness for the Healer dynamic. They are natural givers. The kind of people who arrive late to a party, because they found an injured animal. The kind of people who work to the point of exhaustion, because they cannot bear to leave anyone in pain while they still have a spark of energy left.

  Due to their giving nature, many people believe them to be meek and compliant.

  This would be a foolish misunderstanding to make.

  Healers, while generous in nature, are quick to rebuke anyone who might think them weak-willed. I have personally witnessed these sweet Omega variants, cut the fiercest Alpha down with a look or a word. They can be surprisingly tenacious and stubborn when they set themselves on a course.

  And these tiny, would-be warriors would die to protect those they love.

  Never underestimate a Healer.

  Doctor Lillian Brach

  Anna

  THE CHALLENGER CLASS ship didn’t offer much of an improvement from my temporary quarters on Primus9. The room was barely bigger than the bed. At least the bed was a decent size given it was designed for an Alpha. There was a short corridor from the bedroom to the bathroom with built-in storage, and a tiny facility area opposite the door.

  “Strip and get on the bed.”