The entryway was grand. High ceilings. Gold trim that caught the light like it mattered.
A massive oak desk dominated the front, dark and polished. Two Betas sat behind it. They monitored everything, though they barely looked up.
“Charles,” the male Beta greeted me with a bright smile my way. He was on the older side, with graying hair and nice enough for what his job was. He wore a suit and tie and was always put together every time I came in here. “Change of plans today. A new client hasrequested you last minute, so keep everything on and he’ll meet you in the Green Room number one shortly.”
Change of plans?I wasn’t the first pick for new clients. I wasn’t the normal body type to be picked since I wasn’t as boyish-looking as a lot of the others. Heck, right now I only have three clients that I saw every other week, and one of them canceled this month’s session. I wasn’t complaining. It only meant that my chores increased. I was now posted on lunch duty clean up with some of the older Omegas.
“Alpha Harris will be in shortly. Go on, boy.”
“Yes, Sir,” I muttered, swallowing the bitterness that rose too fast. The change of plans twisted something low in my gut.
I stepped forward, each movement deliberate. Controlled. Like if I walked just right, maybe I wouldn’t feel the tremor in my hands.
The door clicked shut behind me. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
I stood there, spine straight, eyes fixed on the pale green wall. Not the chair. Not the bed with its pure white bedding.
The Alpha would be here soon. And I’d be whatever version of myself he wanted.
Normally, I’d strip and fold my clothes in a neat pile, storing them in the bottom drawer of the dark oak dresser, right beside my pair of clean shoes. Instead, sinceplans changed, I kept everything on and fell to my knees in the middle of the room.
I wanted to huff at the thought of things changing.
Every day since I could remember, things were mostly the same. I’d wake up at a certain time, get showered and ready for the day. Have breakfast in the dining hall, do my bedroom chores, and exercise. More chores, have lunch, then chores again or client sessions, depending on the day and time. Sometimes, there are sessions for hair and body, of course, because we had to be in our best-looking skin as possible. And every month, on the clock, was a doctor’s appointment to make sure that there were no scars or anything new that needed to be updated in the files.
I knew my schedule like the back of my hand, and it wasn’t supposed to change without a good amount of time beforehand.
The only time it was okay to change was when I was sick or when a client took his time a bit too rough with me, which thankfully wasn’t as often as it had been that first year I started seeing clients.
Taking a deep breath, I settled into my greeting pose. My knees held my weight, hands resting on my thighs, and eyes down, I let my thoughts trail off. My thoughts in this room didn’t matter. My wants, desires, or likes didn’t matter here. My voice didn’t matter, either.
All that mattered was my obedience and stance. Everything else would fall into place when it needed to.
Then I heard it—footsteps. Heavy. Unrushed.
My breath caught. Just for a second.
Don’t react. Don’t feel. Just fold in.
The door opened without a knock.
Alpha Harris stepped in. No rush. No sound beyond the soft click of the latch.
The scent hit first. Leather. Smoke. It curled around me before he even spoke.
I didn’t move.
He walked past me, slow and silent. Then he turned.
“Good,” he said, voice low. Controlled.
Not praise. Not warmth. Just confirmation.
He took off his coat, folded it with precision, and placed it on the chair I hadn’t dared to touch.
The scent deepened.
“You’re ready.” It wasn’t a question.
