3. Dry as a Bone

Chapter Three

DRY AS A BONE

Indy

I close my eyes and lean against the damp wood as my stomach rolls, twisting slowly while the walls start to spin.

Every inch of my body hurts. It’s almost pulsing in pain, throbbing then stinging with the most minuscule movement. I can’t stop crying. I’m sweating and shivering at the same time. My core feels swollen, uncomfortably swollen, and horribly achy, and like my insides are going to fall out. The amount of pressure between my legs is unbearable, and each time I scissor my thighs in a sad attempt to relieve some of it, it hurts even more because I can tell I’m dry.

My body isn’t producing hardly any slick, my vagina is basically a desert, and I can say without a doubt that this forced heat is easily the worst I’ve ever experienced.

It must be the double dose they gave me. It has to be.

I’ve never experienced anything like this before and it makes me wish for the first time since they started breeding me that I didn’t have my wits about me.

I always considered it a godsend that I wasn’t out of my mind, that I knew every little thing that happened during a forced heat because it felt like it would be scarier not to. Not when the alphas taking care of it weren’t ones I trusted let alone had any feelings for.

My mother explained what a natural heat is like.

She told me how omegas are essentially knot-crazed and delirious, and that’s why it’s so dangerous for us to go into heat without a plan. We don’t know what we’re doing, or what’s happening to us at all. Medical intervention is apparently pretty rare, but most choose that if they can, unless they’re mated. In that case, an omega’s heat is spent with their mate and it’s a thousand times safer that way.

None of that is how things happen here.

Medical intervention is essential. I don’t know how the Harden’s have access to so much, but we’re given scent blockers and something to stop us from going into heat until they’re ready for us to do so. And when they are, that’s when we’re given the liquid fire via syringe to get things moving.

There are no mates. There’s no plan or safety. There’s no such thing as trust or feelings.

We’re forced into heat so the alphas who pay can breed us, and they do it whether we want it or not.

Because our bodies do.

Mother said that most of what we feel is the same as a natural heat. We crave a knot; we need it in order to find relief. Fortunately, we don’t experience the delirium.

I suppose some would say unfortunately.

From the second it takes over until the second our fake heat ends, we are acutely aware of everything going on. We feel it, see it, hear it, we just can’t do anything about it because our bodies are on autopilot.

I remember every sick and horrible detail from every time it’s happened, and I know I’ll never forget it.

That’s how I want it.

It’s both a blessing and a curse because I’d rather know what was being done to me than wake up disoriented and wondering a few days later, in pain and full of bruises and marks.

There is no such thing as trust here, not in anything but ourselves. I’ve never doubted myself, never wanted anything different. Not until now.

Now? I wish I had no idea what was going on because my body hurts in a way I have never felt before and I know the double dose means this is going to last a lot longer than I’m used to.

With a heave, my head lolls and I try like hell to keep the bile down.

It didn’t take much time for this heat to hit but they wanted to make sure it stuck before they sent anyone to me, and I’ve been suffering the entire time.

I keep trying to remember what my mother said in hopes it’ll help me take my mind off of the pain.

She told me sex isn’t always like this, just like a natural heat isn’t either. She was hopeful I’d get pregnant, and the alpha would want to keep me, that I’d get out of this terrible place and have the chance to live a normal life. That’s why she told me about what it was like for her when she was happy.

I think I’d like that.

To be happy. To find my match, to have them want to keep me. I think about it a lot. Daydreams. Fantasies about finding my mate or mates and staying with them forever. We’d do the normal things my mom described, like enjoying meals together, walking outside in the sun, sitting quietly by a fire while reading a book and sipping wine.

We’d make love.

When she thought I was old enough, Mom explained the difference between what happened to us here and the way things would be with my match. She told me that sex was meant to be meaningful and beautiful, it should be fun and safe. It should be given, not taken, and between people who cared for each other.

That was hard to believe.

They hadn’t started breeding me yet, but it was coming, and I knew what my mother went through when they took me away to their version of school. I couldn’t imagine that ever being enjoyable, but she said it was when she was with my father. She said that’s how things are supposed to be.

Her time with him was brief, so little in the grand scheme of things but my mother talked so fondly of him and their short stretch of happiness, and she was grateful she was able to leave this place and experience it even if it didn’t last.

I’m not as much of a romantic, I guess.

Not most of the time, anyway, but at times like these, when my body is out of my control and my mind is still clear, I let myself believe it could happen to me. I stop using my daydreams to escape and allow myself to think that they could come true the same way they did for my mom.

If I don’t do that, my mind goes to such a dark place, and I get completely lost in the hopelessness of my situation. Especially now, when I’m faced with the possibility of an outcome as terrifying as the one, I saw my mother succumb to.

“Well, hello there, Red.”

My heart starts beating wildly in my chest as soon as I hear those words, the muscle banging against my ribs while I force myself to sit up.

“Why isn’t she ready?” Foster, the more dominant of the alphas, asks with an obvious smirk. “I thought she was going to be presented to us.”

I can hardly see, my eyes keep closing and when they’re open, everything is blurry, but I hear them. I can hear their footsteps, the fabric of their clothes as they walk into my stall. They each have such a distinctive sound. They carry themselves differently, their strides are varied, and the weight of both males is just as distinctive with each time their expensive shoes connect with the dirt floor.

“My fault,” Hall says with a chuckle. “I wanted to see how well the double dose worked.”

My brow furrows as I try to force my eyes open.

I’m not sure what that means, exactly.

The double dose clearly worked because my body is burning from the inside out, and my core is painfully begging for a knot. This is worse than anything I’ve ever felt, and I know as soon as they’re past the doorway, there’s a better than likely chance I’ll vomit from their scents.

I can hardly handle them on a normal dose, something about how Foster’s musky scent and Hall’s tangy one makes my stomach pitch every time they come here, and I’m not sure why. You’d think after two years of them trying to breed me I’d be used to it by now but I’m not, and when you add their scents with everything else about this new stall, I don’t think I can avoid getting sick.

“Get to it then.” The sound of Foster starting to remove his clothing has my heart rate picking up a little more.

It’s only been these two for the last two years and part of me is grateful for that.

I know what to expect with them.

They aren’t gentle when they succumb to their rut, but they aren’t cruel. Neither Hall nor Foster are mean to me, even when I’ve failed to get pregnant. I know they’re why I’ve been allowed to have more choices than some of the other omegas, why I’ve been given books periodically or get extra time outside. They’re incredibly wealthy from what I understand, and they seem to have some pull with the Harden family, so I’m not treated as poorly as I have been in the past.

But there’s a bigger part of me that knows if I don’t get pregnant this time, that if my last chance is a total failure, they aren’t going to bat an eye when I’m gone. Neither of them will do anything to stop it from happening, and they won’t take home an unproductive omega no matter how fond of me they claim to be, so this is my last chance.

My body immediately responds as I feel hands on my shoulders, pulling me forward before I’m thrown over Hall’s shoulder.

Despite the way I gag, being skin to skin has my pussy clenching.

Which is when I remember I’m not wet.

Not even a little.

My body is not producing any slick at all and that is going to be a huge issue when they remove the plugs from their noses and the rut takes over.

It won’t matter if I’m wet or not, they will try to breed me, and my station won’t matter in the slightest because shoving a knot into a dry vagina is never fun.

I don’t understand why this is happening.

Even a forced heat produces something, that’s part of the physical process. The medication forces the heat, we perfume, and slick happens. It’s the damn point of this entire thing. Bringing a heat on is meant to have an omega primed to take a knot and hopefully procreate, and slick is a pretty critical part of that.

The sound of the stockade closing around my wrists and neck pulls me from my thoughts and sends me right into a panic, though you wouldn’t know it.

My ass lifts on its own, my toes pushing my hips into the air out of instinct as Foster’s scent becomes so strong I can taste it. Every inch of me wants him, wants his knot to ease the pain that keeps intensifying.

I need to tell him.

I need to say something, anything, to let them know that my pussy is dry as hell right now because I’m not the only one who benefits from the slick. They need it almost as much as I do but?—

“Great, you made it.”

My heart stops as the ache between my legs practically starts screaming on its own, and several more scents flood the stall.

More scents, more voices, more alpha energy.

Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, I feel fingers on my chin gently lifting my head. A hand pats my cheek, which helps me open my eyes, but everything is still blurry for a few seconds.

“There she is,” Hall grins, his face level with mine from his crouched position. “I was worried we weren’t going to see those pretty eyes at all tonight.” He tilts his head as my mouth tries to form words, but his thumb slides up to my lower lip and pulls it from the top one. “We wanted to do what we could to ensure you’d have a productive night.”

I feel the head of Foster’s dick nudge my core, still dry as can be but no less needy, squeezing around nothing to try to pull him inside anyway. My eyes quickly bounce between Hall’s, pleading with him to understand what I’m trying to tell him. There are way too many smells in here now, at least four in addition to Foster and Hall. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, I’m starting to get cloudy, and everything is spinning again. It’s making me dizzy trying to keep up with everything and the more I breathe in, the needier my body becomes.

But what I really need is for him to hear what I can’t say.

Hall’s grin widens and I think for a second that I might have conveyed my message, but he leans closer and whispers in my ear. “We brought our brothers, Red. Seven big”—Foster pushes against my pussy again— “hard alpha dicks ready to rut your cunt until you’re carrying one of our spawns.”

If I could, I’d show him how much I hate that he used that word. And that they brought five other men to try to breed me tonight.

Instead, my ass goes higher, my toes barely touching the ground while my body tries to push back against the alpha behind me.

I need to tell him.

I have to try to say something, to at least warn him that there is no lubricant for him at all but when I feel my jaw drop to try, it isn’t words that spill from my lips.

No, not words, not even the blood curdling scream echoing in my head as Foster slams into me, his erection tearing its way through my body at a lightning speed in one brutal thrust, not stopping or slowing until his knot is flush against me.

The burning. Oh my god, it burns so badly. This is excruciating despite the fact that I heard myself moan and I do it again when he pulls back, still completely dry, shredding my insides while they stick and unstick, tearing themselves from his dick.

“That’s it, Red,” Hall watches my face, his eyes lingering at my lips before he breaks his start to look back at Foster. “Take all of him so we can make a mommy out of you tonight.”

The dominant alpha slams back into me and I can’t keep the bile down. I vomit and moan at the same time, the pain blinding even though my pussy squeezes him. Foster grunts as he does it again and when he delivers his next thrust, he rocks the entire platform, and I’m roughly shoved forward.

Oh, thank god, I… No.

Oh, god, no.

For a split second, I thought I was finally getting wet, that having an alpha rut me finally kicked my body into drive but that’s not it. No, when Foster’s pace quickens and his fingers dig into my hips, I know that’s not it.

I’m bleeding.

It only took a few pumps from a borderline feral alpha, and he tore my insides apart.

Why can’t I say anything?

This can’t be good for any of us, not if I bleed out right now, but I can hardly think straight, not with the way the pain is subsiding into an almost numb feeling, not with all of the intense scents mixing around me as I start to spin.

Fingers on my chin again.

My jaw drops as my eyes drift closed.

I keep lurching forward, the rocking movement painful but oddly soothing at the same time.

And just when I think that maybe I can get through this, that the numb feeling is better than the tearing, I realize I’m dead wrong.

Foster cries out as he pumps his hips two times before slamming his knot inside of me, my core stretching and tearing, no words to describe the feeling that lingers even as I lock him in. He rocks forcefully, emptying himself inside of me, and on the final shove, Hall shoves his erection between my lips and straight down my throat, his knot already swollen to its fullest and now locked in my mouth. Tears stream down my face as I gag, practically choking until I’m on the verge of blacking out, which is when I hear something that sends a chill down my spine.

“Well, at least if she doesn’t get pregnant tonight, she’ll go out with a bang.”

That’s the last coherent thing that registers before their booming laughter fades and I finally give in to the delirium they created.