Chapter 10

 

It took less than ten steps outside her room for Morgaine to discover that the Alphas’ ship was incredible. In contradiction to her smooth-walled prison, the halls were etched, carved with jagged geometric shapes unlike anything she had seen in the settlement. Light seemed to emanate from the very metal—each glowing panel appearing warm to the touch. But the instant her fingers reached out to explore, her wrist was caught in a vise.

“Eyes forward, Morgaine. This is no place for an Omega to linger.”

But why? After all those days tucked away, with the first inkling of excitement she’d felt since waking up in the sleeping pit, why could she not enjoy this? “I thought—”

“Don’t think. Walk.” Her guardian was stiff, marching her forward with an air of menace he’d never displayed, even at his angriest in her room.

What happened to the reserved authority figure?

This aggressive warden—who held her wrist in a harsh pinch and yanked her to keep pace with his relentless gait—wasn’t the aloof Sergeant Uriel he portrayed in private. Proof again that Alphas were never what they seemed.

Murderers, thieves, rapists… liars.

Trotting in an effort to keep up with the larger man, Morgaine knew better than to complain. After all, he was dragging her to meet potential suitors, and had already told her that when it was time for rest, Corporal Esin would be allowed to do more than use her hand to give himself pleasure.

No matter her feelings on the subject, Esin was going to rape her. Thrust over her flattened body like the Alpha she’d watched rutting the Omega on-screen.

Bunching shoulders, pinned wrists… slick or no, no matter what Sergeant Uriel claimed, Morgaine would never welcome such attention.

The man had ordered her mother’s face to be branded. The same man treated her as his plaything.

Act in any way these Alphas might term as insolent? She would face lessons.

Mention her mother? Earn herself a caning and her mother a public whipping.

Walk too slow? Her arm would be yanked so hard her shoulder ached.

Stay silent? Be rebuked for not speaking.

Speak? Dark looks and castigation for failing to amaze.

They murdered a stranger because of one retort spoken in anger…

These Alphas didn’t want Morgaine at all. They wanted the part of her Uriel referred to as a cunt. A cunt that dripped slick and was attached to a machine that made noises and did as it was told.

In the settlement, women did not leave their hair uncovered. They certainly didn’t let men touch them without permission.

Rape was punishable by immediate execution.

Not here. Here Alphas did as they pleased.

Walking down those glittering corridors, Morgaine let that concept sink in. Don’t think. Walk.

Don’t complain. Obey.

You are no longer a person. You are property.

It did not even matter that their pace had left her flimsy garment loose, her left breast bouncing free of its covering. Not one of the males in the halls or galleries cared her modesty was gone or her hair flowed free and loose.

Don’t live. Serve.

“Morgaine, pay attention. I’ll not say it again.” Pulling her to an abrupt stop, Sergeant Uriel turned on his charge and gave her a look that said now was not the time to misbehave.

Winded from the effort to keep up, feet aching from pounding against cold floors, Morgaine curled her toes and tried to catch her breath. “What?”

He did not release a frustrated sigh, but his glare alone made it seem Sergeant Uriel greatly desired to. Shoulders back, neck tense, he stood as if on display for the multitude of Alphas milling about the gallery.

It was them—the soldiers in their vermilion armor edging nearer—that had made him this way. Without thinking, immensely nervous to see so many eyes on her, Morgaine toed back a step. Uriel’s tightening grip made retreat impossible. Staring at his face as he scanned the waiting crowd, the tense lines, the way his lip curled… the threatening growls offered to any who dared approach—she understood that she was prey in a room of circling predators. And only Uriel’s snarls kept the beasts at bay.

There is no Alpha on this ship who would cause you pain. All they want to offer is pleasure.

These males didn’t seem to have interest in her well-being, smirking, and glowering, and tasting the air.

“They are not permitted to touch you.” Sergeant Uriel passed her into a glass enclosure, so small that any position other than standing would be almost impossible. “Present yourself for their inspection. Explain your situation and special handling.”

She knew what he wanted her to say… what she was supposed to announce to all who showed interest, and frowned.

As if reading her closed expression and the taciturn intent of her thoughts, he amended, “Answer their questions. Show them your beauty and qualities. Behave.”

Locking the entrance, Uriel stepped back and signaled that introductions could begin.

Surrounded in glass, males on all sides with nowhere to hide, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Alphas were given their chance to approach and look upon her.

She was an item on display in the ship’s main gallery, males stopping by to stare, to mark the tally with potential bids, and to handle an array of her used clothing. Clothing that Uriel had laid out after she’d been locked away. Even the filthy dress she was abducted in was fought over by the masses, lifted to the noses of strangers, each eyeing her as if she were to be devoured.

Before he’d left, Uriel reminded her to stand and be seen, to look at them, to answer their questions. Morgaine had not lasted ten minutes after his departure before she was crouched upon the floor, hiding her head in her knees.

She was discussed as if she wasn’t there. “Why does it look unhappy?”

“According to her record, this Omega has yet to be knotted. It needs release.” Someone banged his knuckles on the glass. “Omega, lift your head so we might see you.”

She’d jumped at the taps, lifting red-rimmed eyes and setting them upon yet another stranger in vermilion armor. He looked like all the others, overly large, intimidating, and entitled. “My name is Morgaine. I have been ordered to tell you that I am feral. As of this morning I learned a feral designation necessitates I be separated from the regular female population for at least two years. I will require specific training.” Like a dog. Her voice caught in her throat, Morgaine on the verge of tears. “It is suggested my future mate mount me multiple times a day, otherwise I might regress.”

There were many males gathered, more stepping closer as she began to speak, only one of them asked, “Are you okay, Omega? I have never seen one of your kind cry.”

She had been warned by Uriel that tears in front of potential mates were unacceptable, but she could not stop them from falling. The only thing she could do was lie in an effort to appease. “I am lonely. A mate will rectify this flaw in my character.”

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face these men.

Forehead back to kneecaps, Morgaine breathed slow and deep, closed out the world around her, and tried her damnedest not to hear the males discussing her physical traits, her scent, the shade of her golden hair or the things they thought might cheer her—things that were all highly sexual in nature.

Where tears should have warned them off, it seemed it only made them desire her more.

A debate began on whether her first mating should be from behind so she would know the strength of her Alpha. Or, if she should be laid down in her nest and fucked from the front, where she might see and taste the male who would own her.

All agreed she should not be allowed to straddle an engorged Alpha cock—that was an honor she would have to earn.

More than one argued vehemently that her first time should be under the care of at least three males. That way they could keep her sticky with seed, stuff her full of cock, and break her in until exhaustion forced her to sleep. Three days of constant fucking would set her right…  maybe more if she resisted.

The idea was atrocious.

Slumping down to the cold floor, Morgaine curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut until she saw spots.

She could not find it in her heart to care that the panel of her skirt would not cover her, that the men were shifting around her enclosure to glimpse whatever might be seen of her sex.

The males made a game of it—a series of growls projecting from one Alpha to the next to see who might get her pussy to twitch and leak a drop of slick first.

Not all calls were successful, but some did inspire the desired outcome. And there was nothing Morgaine could do to stop the inevitable, horrible, trickling response.

“Look at that pretty slit, all glossed and hungry. Do you want a cock, Omega? I can’t wait to watch your first knotting.”

Silently sobbing into her hands, mortified that something so personal would be broadcasted for the entire ship to view, Morgaine tried her damnedest to shut them out. She’d hated what made her Omega—her body’s shameful betrayal, loathed how little control she had when the bone shaking rumbles were made.

Mostly, she hated the males who cheered, shouting encouragement for her to open her thighs and give them an even closer look.

Leaning up on an elbow, she let them see her tear-marked cheeks and tried to communicate that she was more than a hole they all could fuck. “I have great skill in dying cloth. I can make rare greens and purples from ingredients local to our forest in shades so vibrant they were highly sought after by my neighbors.” She didn’t know who she was pleading with, the males too caught up in their game to listen, but Morgaine muttered on all the same. “I know the traditional dances to flute music and sew well. At harvest, I am useful in the fields. I had friends…”

Silence slowly broke up the noise, a sense of quiet amidst the sound of shuffling feet eerie. Whatever had ended the raucous tableau, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She just hoped they were listening.

They were not. Sergeant Uriel had returned into their midst, growling with heavy disapproval at the raucousness of the crowd and the pathetic figure she displayed. “Stand up, Omega. Stand now and keep your eyes downcast.” His low bark harsher than she’d yet heard. “I will not have you be seen this way.”

Pressing her palm to the floor, she shifted to her knees, looking over her shoulder to see an older male had come to view her shame. His rank had to be high if the glittering marks on his armor were any indication. He did not at all look pleased.

Climbing to her feet, she did exactly as she was told, kept her eyes downcast, and shoulders straight.

“Commandant, this is Morgaine of the Ivex Colony on the fourth continent of Nauu. She was harvested from one of our more resourceful settlements.” Sergeant Uriel stood at stiff attention, listing her attributes as if selling a horse. “Her eyes are blue, hair golden, long in the fashion of their females. She speaks only the common language and has been educated by farmers. A simple girl, with simple skills, but great beauty.”

Mortified to be spoken of as if lacking, Morgaine’s cheeks went red, but she kept her lips sealed.

“Why was it lying on the floor?”

Sergeant Uriel did not soften his assessment in the slightest. “This one is feral, Commandant. She is indolent and argumentative. As such, her handling has been strict and her education requirements adjusted to diminish her flaws. She needs more training than most.”

The commandant shook his head, lips thinned. “I have heard enough of this case, and frankly, I’m tired of the petitions. Her presence on my ship has been a distraction to the ranks, and to come here and find her exposed, enticing my soldiers to quicken her pleasure, it cannot be tolerated. Look at her thighs… they are dripping with slick. This sort of lewd behavior is only tolerable in the pleasure quarters for those who’ve earned the right to be entertained by an Omega, not in the main gallery by any passing male.”

“She is a virgin, sir. Her body is preparing for penetration. We also suspect she is on the verge of her first estrous.”

It was intolerable, and Morgaine could not bite her tongue. “I did not ask them to growl at me, nor did I like it. Don’t think I’m doing this on purpose!”

“Silence!” The commandant’s roar shook her, causing Morgaine to back away.

Sergeant Uriel was equally incensed. “Do not speak again, Morgaine.”

Measuring the shrinking Omega, bushy brows drawn low over unforgiving eyes, the commandant decided her fate. “If you don’t want it to sit, then sitting shall be made painful. Three strikes with a cane across her buttocks. Two across the shoulders. Tomorrow we shall see how straight she stands and how seriously she takes this honor. If I find her lying down again, the punishment will be doubled. Omegas must know their place.”

 

***

 

Punishment was served immediately. Amidst the grumbled disappointment of the males who had yet to push their way to the front of the crowd, Morgaine was pulled from her glass cage. Pulled rather roughly.

Marched back through the halls, dragged when she couldn’t keep up, past gawking strangers. When they found her door, she watched Sergeant Uriel press his hand to the wall and it opened at once.

Thrust inside, she found Corporal Esin, smiling, the room decorated with flickering lights and smelling of a savory meal. He took one look at Uriel’s stormy countenance and lost all traces of joy.

“She is to be caned.”

Already reaching to strip off his tunic, Esin declared, “I’ll bear her punishment. As many strikes as you see fit, sir.”

“You will not.” The door closed at his back, the smooth wall seamless, before Uriel released her aching arm. “Five strikes were ordered by the commandant as a necessary reminder of what she is and who she owes her fealty to. For her disrespect to your leadership, I am adding another strike.”

“Sir.” Crestfallen, Esin gave her a look that set her skin bumping in fear. “Six strikes… she’s so small.”

“You may brace her and offer comfort as it’s done.”

And it was done at once. A dumbfounded Morgaine was dragged into her sleeping pit and shoved down to sprawl on her belly. Between them they moved her where they would, the girl too shell-shocked to grasp what was coming.

Esin held her forearms. Pulling them away from her body and planting them into the floor with his weight. Hair gathered and moved away from her back, clothing tugged aside before she could complain… she didn’t even know where Sergeant Uriel had procured the cane.

A shrill whistle and searing fire tore a line across the naked cheeks of her ass. It happened so quickly, with no break between strikes, that by the third she was sobbing and fighting to get away.

All the while, Esin whispered that if she remained still, the bite of the cane would cause less damage. He pled with her.

The fourth caught her across the shoulders, the hardest strike yet, landing on a girl so beyond the ability to cope that she shrilled out a cry for help from the very man holding her down. By the fifth she was begging for mercy, saying anything she thought they might want to hear to get the pain to stop.

The sixth fell and she was certain she was going to die.

Breaking the cane over his knee, Sergeant Uriel threw it across the room, shattering a pitcher on the table. “May that sting remind you that though we do not enjoy doling out punishment on our females, we will!”

He stormed out, leaving the stink of Alpha anger and something even more terrifying— compunction—in the air. The burden of remorse had not held back his rage; even under its sting Sergeant Uriel had still beaten her into perfect submission

…and he’d abandoned her to Esin’s care.

Slumped over the pillows, the flesh of her back and buttocks seared as if from open flame, Morgaine put up no fight when the corporal circled to her back. No resistance was offered when he pet unmarked skin.

It was time to get it over with and accept that she’d been cast into hell.

This male had the right to enter her now. And then tomorrow another. And then another. And another.

The threat that had been hanging over her head would be carried out while she was in too much pain to do a damn thing.

Instead, he blew cool breath over the marks, speaking softly. “There is no blood. He was surprisingly delicate. The sergeant could have struck you hard enough to split skin and leave scars.”

Hating the world, Morgaine sobbed. “My only value here is in my beauty…”

Esin did not answer her, blowing again as if a soft puff of air might soothe her. “As this was a punishment, I am forbidden to heal you. All I can offer is ice for the pain.”

And he did, cautious in how he cooled the fire of each mark. While he tended to her, he spoke of his disappointment, of how he had thought to impress her upon her return. “I spent a great deal on the best foods available on this ship. There is even a bottle of Hessmirn wine I’ve been saving just for you. For my beloved mate.”

Morgaine didn’t argue with the creature sliding ice over scalding fires. She only nodded in hopes of appeasing him.

“When you’ve calmed down, I’ll make you a plate. Don’t move a muscle, just rest, sweet renegade.”

And thus the night progressed. Esin was with her until she slept, iced her wounds when she whimpered. Offered water, wine, food, anything he thought she might require.

Not once did he initiate mating. It would have been impossible to do without hurting her more.

For that, Morgaine was almost grateful.