Page 6 of Knot Their Princess

With a whine, he does as instructed, that whine growing obscene when he’s upright with the strap-on inside of him.

“Yes!” he cries.

“This it, baby. Use your legs. Bounce. Drive that cock all the way inside of you.”

More and more slick pours from his ass at my words, and he rearranges his position so his feet are flat on the bed, his hands on either side of us. Then, he pushes up on his legs, the toy sliding out of his body before he drops back down onto it, and we both hiss.

“Oh, gods,” he whines. “It’s too good.”

As he keeps bouncing, the egg grinds against my G-spot, angled into it every time he drives the toy home inside him. And I turn the second vibration on with a groan. The way Matty begins to sing, bouncing up and down, I know he can feel the extra vibrations, too, his movements growing faster and harder until he drops down so hard my vision goes white, pleasure explodes inside my body, and he’s crying out in ecstasy, unable to rise up anymore.

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, I remember to hit the knot inflation control, and Matty comes again as the dildo expands inside his ass, locking inside his tight channel.

Sweat drips down his back, mingling with both our slick, adding a musk to our perfume that delights my senses.

“Sin,” he breathes. “You’re too good to me. I’ve never felt so spoiled in my life.”

My smile at his back isn’t entirely happy.

Every Omega deserves to feel spoiled and loved. But this place…

As long as we’re here, that will never be our destiny.

Chapter Two

Sin

Winter in Los Angeles is never as cold as winter on TV or in movies. Part of me wonders what it would be like to be in a snow storm for the first time.

Snow on screen always looks fluffy and light. I imagine it like a snow cone, which, I guess, makes sense. But I wonder if it’s soft to the touch and how fast it would melt when it meets my skin.

These thoughts swim through my brain in the makeup room backstage that night as all of us Omegas prepare for work, the small TV mounted in the upper corner of the room displaying a news story out of New York.

The reporter is a genial Beta female with brown hair and eyes, wrapped in a wool coat with dark gloves, one hand gripping her mic with the news station’s logo on it.

“...held by Helix Biosciences. This news is surprising, given the corporation isn’t known for holding events, and the current owners aren’t known for making many public appearances—”

A photo comes up on screen of a large group of men, all wearing impeccable suits. They zoom in on three standing together in the center. They’re more handsome than any filthy rich men have a right to be, their Alpha auras radiating through even a photo on the TV screen. The one in the middle has dark hair and a stern expression. To the left of him is a man with a pleasant smile and short, curly, lighter brown hair. And the man on the right… he smiles, too, but there’s something almost sinister about it. Wicked. His hair is black with thick streaks of blood-red.

My head swivels to the vanity mirror in front of me, looking at my own black hair, thick streaks of blue running through it. My eyelids flutter before my gaze is drawn back to the TV.

“—it will be an even more crowded space here in Manhattan for the New Year’s celebration this year. But if you think you’re getting into the party, think again. This is strictly invite-only, and security at the hotel will be tighter than ever before. Tom?”

The screen switches back to the news room, and I shake my head to rid it of my fantasies, turning back to my vanity mirror.

My blue eyes look even more dull than usual today. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or even the frustration that Mama still hasn’t been able to find an Omega with the chops to become my proverbial apprentice and step into the shoes of a coveted domme.

Most Omegas would feel threatened by the thought of having their position of power being encroached on, but not me. I welcome the idea of someone else being available to do this job. Take some pressure off of me.

“I swear he is going to kill somebody one day.”

My ears twitch at the voice that announces the arrival of a couple more Omega subs to the makeup room. The one speaking is a slight blond thing named Vicki, I think. I don’t make a habit of being friendly with the subs. Except Matty.

“Maybe he already has. No one’s seen Francesca in weeks. Mama certainly doesn’t mention her.”

This from the Omega I’ve been waiting to see. Tasha, a voluptuous woman with curly brown hair and an attitude I would have assumed had made her capable of being a domme like me, enters the room and catches my eye in the mirror. She obviously doesn’t like what she sees there, the way she looks away immediately and walks to her station that she shares with the blond.

Their conversation ceases, but I don’t forget the mention of Francesca. I haven’t seen her in a long time, either. Though that doesn’t mean much. Some of the girls here run, regardless of the danger outside. It happens more than one would expect. But the man they’re talking about is someone whose name doesn’t need to be said aloud. We all know who they mean.