Broken Dreams (Unhingedverse)
Broken Dreams: Prologue

My hips move to the music the way they always have. My arms lift my body to swing around the pole in a move that shows off how strong my body is, even as the smoke in the room makes my senses feel dull.

There are drugs being pumped into the club tonight. Bret enjoys changing things up pretty often, as we travel for his clientele. It’s a guaranteed way to keep the new girls in line, cut off from resources if they won’t bend in exactly the way he wants them to. I never know what city I’m in as I’m shuttled from place to place, because it doesn’t matter.

Everything I am belongs to him, and the men and women who pay for my time. My body is on full display, the alphas’ warm gazes on me, forcing me to preen for them. It’s a response I can’t control, my pussy already slicking to fill the room with my scent.

Tonight I’m priming the scene for the other omegas in the club, teasing the alpha men and women who are here. It’s a very exclusive guest list, invited by Bret for specific reasons. There are things he wants from each of them, and he’s going to pay for those favors with what our bodies promise.

Illicit sex, any way they want.

My skin begins to glisten with sweat as I dance, my nipples stiff peaks, my breasts bouncing slightly. Their eyes may be on me as they choose the omegas they’re fucking tonight, but my cunt is empty. Bret is punishing and protecting me in the same breath.

My job is to stay off limits tonight as I twirl around the pole, or roll on the ground to flash them a look at my slick core. Moans and whimpers fill the air as alphas fuck the male and female omegas who are as trapped here as I am.

The drugs make the omegas believe they want the knots being pushed inside of them, while the alphas have a safe place to lose control as they fall into their ruts. There have been many accidents while I’ve worked here, but Bret is just quietly paid the cost of what the omega is worth without a word.

What’s a dead omega in the face of living out a fantasy or a really good orgasm?

It’s why I’m dancing and not fucking tonight. The other omegas are expendable, while I’m not for some reason. Any time the boss is worried about how rough things may get, he has me dance instead, teasing those in the room with the promise of what they can’t have.

I’d rather run the risk of being killed though. I’ve been here so many years, the time is hard to keep track of. Death would be peaceful, quiet, and blissful.

My face is a mask of desire as I continue to dance, eyes refusing to land for long on any of the rutting alphas with their chosen omegas. Some are sharing omegas because there’s multiple holes to fuck and knot. It’s what we’re made for after all. There’s one omega in particular that I would mourn if something happened to them.

Instead, I take a deep breath of the drugged air and allow myself to drift, because it’s safer that way.

I don’t want to think, feel, or wish for anything more than I have. Hope has dangerous consequences. This is my life, a trafficked sex worker who only works to line her boss’ coffers. It’s all I can ever be.