This particular chapter is lighter on sex than the prior two, though it still has deep sexual themes. Know that going in.
Becoming Omega, Part 3
Omega woke to the sound of crooning jazz on Thursday in her new home, hornier and happier than she ever remembered. Since the night of her rebirth, she had spent three days at His service while her new home was prepared. And, today, she awoke in her own bed.
___
The morning after her rebirth, she prepared to leave the eighth floor hotel room at the Hilton and return to her old apartment. “I have to be at work tomorrow, Sir,” she said with a kiss on his neck. But Jack returned a gaze deep into her eyes. He pulled her close.
“The woman you were is dead,” Jack whispered. “Your new life has already begun.”
She giggled. “I’m yours, Sir, but I can’t just leave everything.”
“You already have, slut. Your family lives across the country. And your boss knows you won’t be returning.”
What? She looked to Jack, eyes wide. He nodded, slowly. “It was your boss who fucked you first last night. It was your boss who said your old name.”
It was done. Omega stared out the window. Cars weaved on a distant highway. A hawk circled something far below.
Elena was dead. Omega was all that remained.
A deep breath.
She paused. “Where do I go now?”
“I have a car waiting downstairs. Shower now. Your outfit will be waiting for you when you finish.”
And so Omega did. She scrubbed her chest and her face and her tits. She brushed her long, tangled auburn hair, matted with cum. And for a long time, she just stood, water running over her face, steam opening her pores. She wanted to feel rage at Jack for destroying her old life, or remorse at the loss of everything she had built before. But she found instead she was overcome by relief, by joy, by love. She was becoming the slut she wanted to be. The open hole she knew she should be.
One final breath. Shower off, curtain open. Dry towel. Clothes. Clothes? On the dresser sat only three items: her four inch heels, metal police-grade handcuffs, and her black collar, “Omega” emblazoned across the front in matted silver.
Jack appeared in the doorframe, holding the clothes she had arrived in and a pair of scissors.
“Are you Elena, or are you Omega?”
Her breath quickened. Despite all he had said before, she had one final opportunity to revive Elena. She could forget this ever happened. She could be a girl who had a crazy night. She could just be a run-of-the-mill slut. Sluts are fun, right?
But she didn’t want to be a slut. She wanted to be nothing. She wanted to be a hole, good for only the satisfaction of others. She wanted to forget about the existence of her own self altogether. She wanted to be a toy, a service, a thing.
“I am Omega, Sir.”
Jack grinned. He cut her clothes down the middle.
“Heels and collar on now, slut,” he said.
“Yes Sir.” She complied, and stood wobbly on unsteady heels, naked but for her two-inch collar, her new name etched in matted steel.
“Turn around, hands behind your back,” he said. She complied.
As he fastened her handcuffs, he said, “You will walk four steps behind me all the way to the car. You will keep my pace. If you fall, you will apologize, stand and catch up immediately.”
“Yes Sir.”
“If you are seen, you will smile. If you are touched, you will say ‘thank you,’ and ask to be touched again. If someone appears hesitant to touch you, you will offer yourself. You will refuse no one. You are nothing. And now, right now, is the moment you tell the world. Do you understand, Omega?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Follow, cunt.”
Jack turned on his heels and opened the door. He did not hold it for her. He did not look back. Omega paused a moment and followed, wobbling awkwardly on four inch heels with her hands cuffed behind her back.
Jack was halfway to the elevator. She struggled to keep pace. Stumbling and swaying, she moved as fast as her legs would carry her.
The elevator. Open doors. They stepped inside.
“Are you ready for the world to know what you are, my slut?”
“I can’t wait Sir. I want it.”
Ding!
Omega’s face flushed, her skin numbed. There, at the exit to the elevator, stood the crowd of men who had used her the night before, cell phones out and recording.
Applause. Whistles.
Her boss stood front among them, grinning ear to ear.
She hesitated for only a moment. And then, all at once, she became Omega. She threw her shoulders back, puffed out her chest. She met the gaze of every man who looked at her.
She stepped off the elevator.
Her boss leaned forward and whispered, “You were never good for anything else. This is what you should be.”
“I know, Sir. This is all I am.”
Men hurled insults.
“Welcome to your new life, cumrag.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re not even hot, you’re just easy, slut.”
“I’m ugly and useless, but I’ll do anything to make you happy, Sir.”
“I fucked your ass last. Hotdog down a hallway. You’re used, you’re trash.”
“If my holes are useless, I’m useless, Sir.”
Men groped her tits, grabbed her cunt. She spread her legs.
“Slap it,” she said, and he did.
Another pulled her hair just to watch her fall.
“No one help her,” said Jack.
“You can hit me harder than that,” she said, licking her lips and struggling back to her feet. “I’m made to be broken.”
A man cocked his fist.
Omega leaned her face forward. “Break my nose,” she said.
Jack chuckled.
“Alright, gents. Bill shut down the cameras for three minutes, but we have to go before police are called.”
He turned and moved to the exit. Men parted for him; Omega followed, wobbling and unsteady.
She followed Jack to the curb where a black sedan waited. Pedestrians turned to look. Cars slowed. One honked. Omega shook her tits in appreciation.
Jack slid in the back seat and shut the door in her face. Pointed to the front seat.
She turned herself to open the door with her cuffed hands. She struggled for a moment and, finally, found her way into the passenger seat. Jack looked down to his phone, uninterested. He gestured to the driver.
“Gag on his cock until we arrive. Down to the base.”
And she did.
___
On Thursday evening, Omega followed Jack down the nineteenth floor hallway of a gorgeous downtown skyrise to the door of her new home. She wore a form fitting ten inch microskirt - black, this time - and a translucent pink tank top. Four inch heels, once more. She was beginning to grow comfortable in her reduced wardrobe.
Jack opened the door to her new home. Her jaw dropped. She walked into a stunning wood-floored living room, morphing slowly into a gorgeous kitchen, exposed brick on one side, a floor-to-ceiling window on the other. A record player sat on a table beside a couch before a coffee table. An old Fleetwood Mac album danced around the room.
“Thank you, Sir! It’s beautiful.”
“This is for you, my slut. And so is this,” Jack said, handing her an envelope. I’ll let you read it on your own. Settle in. Tomorrow is another big day.” And, with that, He saw himself out.
Omega squealed in joy and walked to the kitchen. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat on the counter. She poured herself a glass, returned to the couch, and opened the letter.
Omega,
Welcome to your new home. It is truly that: your home. This is the beginning of your new life. A sign of your growth, of your humanity, of your submission.
You have a job, and your job is simple: embrace your truest self. Embrace your inner whore. Become the open, generous, submissive hole you know yourself to be. If you do, you will be protected and cared for the rest of your life. If you don’t you’ll be discarded like furniture, on the side of the road.
You live by three rules. They are as follows:
You accept your role as Omega. In every dynamic, your needs are to be met last and least. You are submissive to all men, you are submissive to all women. You are submissive to other submissives. You are below the bottom. You are nothing.
Every man is Sir, every woman is Madam. End every sentence you speak, whether verbal or written, with the appropriate title.
You no longer deny consent. Every sexual advance made upon you, whether in this home or outside it, is greeted with enthusiasm, positive reinforcement, and escalation. You are not just to follow orders, but to enhance them, improve them, and make them more severe.
Your role in the world is to submit, entirely. To please, entirely. To do what makes the world happy. That will, in turn, make you happy. But that is not why you do it. You do it because it is your purpose.
In the bedroom, you’ll notice an intercom system. It’s equipped with an alarm clock, which will wake you promptly at 5:45am each morning. You cannot alter it. You are expected to be awake and active by 5:50am. The first door on the right is a fully equipped fitness facility. I have programmed a daily regimen into the workout software on the Smart TV in that room. You are expected to begin the regimen at exactly 6am every morning.
In the bathroom, you will find a bottle of pills.
This pill will modify the way you think, the way you look, and the way you feel. It will enhance your sex drive, it will make your pussy drip. You will crave touch, cock, and use, and you will crave it every minute of every day. It will maintain a low-grade MDMA-style buzz, permanently. It will commit you to a life of servitude. Physically, it will enhance your hormones while limiting risk of pregnancy and STDs. It will tighten your stomach and grow your breasts. You are to take one pill every morning at 7am.
In the medicine cabinet, you will find a collection of skin creams and makeup. Your skincare regimen must be complete, and you must be wearing eyeliner, mascara, your own preference of makeup and one of the four shades of lipstick available by 8am.
In the bedroom, you will find two drawers. In one, you will find four inch heels, in your size. In the other, you will find 6-10 inch black microskirts and 5-8 inch white microtops.
In the house, you are to wear your collar and heels only. In public, you are to wear a microtop, a microskirt, your collar and heels.
And, finally, when the intercom rings, you are to welcome any guest at any time. You are to leave the door ajar and greet them on your knees, face on the floor, ass in the air and hands on your back.
Take your first pill the moment you read this.
Good luck, Omega. Your new life has begun.
Omega blushed to herself. She stood, walked to the bathroom, and did as she was told.
___
And so, the next morning, Omega awoke hornier and happier than she had ever been. By 5:57, she was in the gym, ready to begin her first morning routine.
And then she saw it.
In the corner of her gym, dangling discretely from the ceiling: a camera.
Omega blushed.
And then smiled. Winked. Her pussy gushed.
And she pressed play on her workout.
____
At 8:30, the intercom buzzed. She did as her letter instructed. She opened the door wide, and dropped to her knees, face on the floor. For good measure, she spread her asscheeks to offer her holes to whoever entered.
Precious minutes passed. The clock in the living room ticked.
Finally, the door creaked. Laughter.
She blushed. It wasn’t just Jack.
“Look at this little cumdumpster - just as submissive as you told us, Jack.”
“She’s taken to her role quite well,” said Jack, humbled. Omega smiled to herself.
“So where are these cameras we’ve been seeing?” said another.
She heard footsteps, and the cluster of men walked past her. She expected them to turn into the gym, where she’d spotted a camera earlier, but they walked toward the kitchen.
“Right behind the stove is one,” said Jack.
There are many?
“Above the television is another. There’s one in the gym, one in the bedroom, and one in the bathroom for our dirtier patrons. The bitch has no privacy,” he said.
Omega shuttered. Elena would have dropped dead at the mere mention of such a life. But something was changing in Omega. She found herself more than content: she found herself made happy and satisfied by her lack of privacy. The drugs in her system must’ve been working. Her pussy was aching. She wanted nothing more than cock, and she felt nothing but love and satisfaction in her world.
“How many people are watching now?” said a voice.
There was a pause as Jack checked his phone.
“It’s just 150 in this moment,” said Jack. “But don’t worry, it’s early. The numbers will rise throughout the day. It’ll more than double by lunch, and rise further in the evening. We’ll also tell people when we have special events, so we’ll see spikes for those. And, of course, with your investment, our bigger marketing budget will skyrocket those numbers.”
“Can they see us right now?”
“Yes, but your faces are blurred, as is mine. Of course, hers isn’t. The world knows exactly who she is. Her Facebook and Instagram pages have all been modified with new pictures, with links to the livestreams.
“Omega,” called Jack, addressing her for the first time.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, refusing to move.
“Would it interest you to know how many of your friends have commented on your new life?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Your most recent picture on Instagram - one of you on your knees in the hotel lobby, handcuffed and being groped by old men - has 275 likes and 85 comments.”
Elena’s pussy twitched. She’d never received more than 100 likes on anything before.
“Who is Pete Hallenback?” asked Jack.
“My high school boyfriend,” said Omega.
“Pete said, ‘I always knew you were a dirty whore. You dumped me and I never knew why. Well, now I can have you any time I like.’”
Her breath quickened. Now she was scared. Humiliated. She hadn’t quite realized her worlds would merge so quickly. She hadn’t known her new life would be broadcast to the old.
“How about this one… Marcy Griffin. Who is that?”
Her head spun. Her heart stopped. Her grandmother.
“Marcy says, ‘Child, I am so disappointed in this life you’ve chosen. You are truly not a Griffin. You are no family of mine. You are nothing.’”
A tear rolled down her cheek. Footsteps.
Jack crouched beside her.
“Is she right, Omega? Are you nothing?”
Omega whimpered.
“Say it,” said Jack.
“Yes Sir. She is right. I am nothing, Sir.”
“Kneel up straight, Omega.”
Omega ascended, arms still behind her back. Four men came into view before her beside Jack.
“Omega, these men are investors. They believe they can make the whore you are into something financially viable. You, of course, will not profit. You are nothing and deserve nothing. But we will. We will profit endlessly. And so it’s very important that they are happy. Do you understand, slut?”
“I do, Sir.”
She opened her mouth, predicting a blizzard of cocks. The men laughed.
“While we appreciate your enthusiasm, sweetheart, we’re not here to test your cocksucking skills,” said one. “We’re here to test your pain and humiliation thresholds.”
Omega’s cunt twitched. She spasmed ever so slightly.
“Now you know hundreds of people - many people you know - are watching and listening to us as we speak. Go to the stove, speak into the camera, and tell the world what you want us to do to you.”
She paused. Her grandma may be watching. Her ex boyfriend may be watching. Her parents may be watching.
Her head rushed with endorphins. The drugs pulsating through her body kicked up a notch.
She walked proudly to her stove and found a tiny camera. On the other side was the whole world. She could say anything at all.
“To the world, I want you to know I want this. I am truly nothing. And I want to feel it. I want these men to beat me in front of you all. I want them to break my nose, break my jaw. Break my ribs.” Her fingers went to her pussy. “I want them to snap my arms. And I want you all to watch, while you rub your cocks and your pussies at my demise. And I want you to come over and use my broken body when they’re done.”
The room went silent for a long while.
“Holy shit,” said one.
“Omega, drop to your knees,” said Jack.
“Gentlemen, you understand that by hitting her, you’re agreeing to invest, and that your first investment will cover her full body augmentation, correct?”
They nodded, and closed in.
Omega smiled. Her eyes fluttered.
“Beat me,” she said.
____
Part Three coming soon. You can contact the author at verballicentia [at] g mail .com
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