Becoming Omega, Chapter 1: Room 804
I stood before a mirror in a hotel lobby. Soon, everything would be different.
I had no idea.
When I think back to it, I guess even then, there, I knew I was changing. Deep beneath my cute facade, my carefully manicured girl-next-store appearance, lay something darker. I mean, I'd always kept myself together in public, but I knew it was there.
I was invited here by a long-time lover, one who always seemed to know me better than I knew myself. I seemed to find myself becoming submissive in his presence, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was only just beginning to scratch the surface of what he was capable of.
And you know what? I was okay with that. That dark corner of my mind liked feeling small. Tiny. Insignificant.
But he was something else, too: he was sweet. Dominant and strict, sure, but gentle when it mattered. Had I been the type to commit to one man, I would have committed to him. I trusted him more than I trusted most. And when I trust, I do what I'm told.
So I guess that's how I ended up in the elevator lobby on the eighth floor of the Emerald Regent Hotel at 4:57pm on Saturday, in this absurdly humiliating outfit, killing three minutes in the mirror before I was to enter his hotel suite at precisely 5pm.
I was blushing. He told me he had a surprise for me, and he had this outfit shipped to me by courier with a note that I was not to bring or wear anything not inside the package.
He had something planned, and it was big.
The outfit he had me in started with a tiny, semi-transparent white tube top, no bra. It was taught against my skin, and my nipples were obvious to anyone who glanced. Nearly ten inches of my midriff were visible. I had reasonably large C-cups, and I could feel open air on the underside.
My belly button was pierced; a golden loop with an emerald. But I can't blame him for that. I pierced it when I was sixteen and I never changed it.
My skirt may have been even shorter than my exposed midriff. It was auburn, like my hair, and had been advertised on the package as ten inches. But here, taught against my skin, it covered nothing. It hugged my hips and did not relent. Where many miniskirts fray into a playful schoolgirl plaid, mine held tightly down my thigh and just barely folded into the crease below my ass.
And that's standing still. If I moved at all, it would ride up. That's even worse, because there were no panties in anywhere to be found in the package. I considered wearing my own, but he's a stickler. I listened to what he said to the letter.
But that was in the past. I was here now.
It was time.
I tepidly tiptoed down the hall, breathing heavily as I approached room 804. Exhaled one last time before I inserted my keycard. I crept inside.
It was a huge suite. Dimmed lights. Candles in paper bags lined the hall to the central living space. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city on the far wall. Classical piano music danced around the room. Chopin, maybe. Jack really went all-out.
But under it all were the far-off voices of several people. Not just Jack.
"Hello," I said from the hallway, more a question than a greeting.
"I think she's here," said a familiar voice.
I passed the threshold to the living space. Two strangers sat on the couch, but standing before me, holding out a glass of wine, was him. Jack.
I'd seen him a thousand times, but every time I was surprised how handsome he was. He was older than me - mid-thirties. As always, a black button down. Chiseled arms and pecs apparent even now, fully clothed. A square jawline. A full head of hair and not one out of place. Piercing eyes that pierce your soul.
I never quite understood what he saw in me. I knew I was pretty, but it never felt like we were in the same league.
"Right on time. Gents, this is Elena. We have a glass ready for you."
"Yeah, Jack. Thank you. Guys, it's nice to..."
But Jack cut me off.
"Excuse me?"
"Huh?"
"Forgetting something?"
He held back the glass of wine and looked me dead in the eye, disappointed. I glanced at the two men on the couch, awaiting my reply.
"I don't know. Even with them here?"
"Yes, Elena. They know what you are."
My face flushed.
"Uh...yes, Sir. May I please have wine, Sir?"
The men on the couch chuckled. They talked past me, like I wasn't even there.
"She's a good girl, Jack. Just like you said."
I could feel my heartbeat beneath my tits, which I was now firmly aware were all too exposed and almost entirely visible to perfect strangers. Jack grinned. He was enjoying this. He knew I was too, in my own way.
He held out his hand. In his palm sat a transparent little pill, no larger than an over-the-counter aspirin.
"Take this."
"What is it, Sir?"
"Take it and I'll tell you."
I breathed heavily and downed the pill with a sip of wine before I allowed myself a moment to think.
Jack grinned.
"That little pill will help you see the truth. The truth of who you are. Of what you're for."
"Ok, Sir. But what is it actually?"
"Don't worry," he said. "We took one too. Sit down, relax. We're all here to love and learn. We came here because of you, Elena."
I had a sense I knew where this was going. I'd like to say I was relaxed and excited but the truth was, I'd never felt my heart do what it was doing. It seemed to beat so fast it was an impossibility.
Jack turned my attention to the men on the couch.
"Elena, this is my dear friend Aaron."
He was a handsome dark skinned man. Fit, built. Nearly breaking through his shirt. He was bald and dashing, with thin Warby Parkers and a charming smile. I smiled and blushed and took his hand.
"Jack sings your praises. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, uh... Sir."
"And this is my new friend, Scott."
Scott sat at the other end of the couch. He was a thinner man, sinewy and defined in a tight t-shirt. Curly brown and blond locks. A clean jawline. He might have been a lifeguard in his youth. Or a waterpolo player. Or something.
"Welcome to the party, Elena. Glad to finally meet you."
"Uh, thank you. Uh... Sir."
The only space on the couch was between the two men, so I hesitated and sat between them. I was intensely aware of my itty bitty skirt, riding up as I sat. I could feel my naked thighs tickled by the open air. I fidgeted with the hem, buying every fraction of an inch of coverage I could. Still, the men were handsome and kind. Trustworthy, even. Besides, Jack was there. I was safe.
But then Jack spoke.
"You look beautiful tonight, slut."
I winced. Blushed. Jack caught my eye and tilted his head in that charming way he does to get out of trouble. I glanced at the men beside me. They were still chuckling, but not entirely at my expense, somehow. I didn't feel attacked or hurt. I felt affection, camaraderie. Like this was the only room in the world where I could be truly seen for me, and who I am was okay. Accepted, even celebrated.
Jack turned to the floor to ceiling windows. The skyline twinkled. He took a deep breath, as though he was pondering.
"We stigmatize the word 'slut,' don't we?" posed Jack.
The two men on the couch nodded.
He took his seat in a chair across from me and the men on the couch. Crossed his legs.
"We stigmatize the submissive mentality altogether. We stigmatize the idea of service, of serving selflessly, of being considered less than someone else."
Jack shook his head as though it was some great injustice. I was sure he had come with this little speech prepared, but I didn't care. I was mesmerized. I always am when he speaks. That was true then more than ever, as the sparkles on the buildings out that window took on a new shine.
My body felt warm. Tingly.
"And so people like you, Elena, people who deeply sense their bodies are for service, feel this dark pang of angst. It feels dirty, doesn't it? It feels like a crime. Like a sin. Why does showing up like this, vulnerable and exposed for all the world to see and willing to give, mean something is wrong with you? Doesn't it mean the opposite? Doesn't it mean you're selfless?"
I was hooked on his every word. Both men had absently put a hand on my thigh, delicately tracing little lines from my knee to the hem of my skirt. I barely noticed the quickening rise and fall of my chest, the clenching of my legs, the little whimpers dripping from my lips.
Jack continued to speak, but I was losing myself in my body. My eyes were closed now. Aaron's lips were on my neck, Scott's fingers creeping ever closer to the warmth between my legs. I melted into them, into the sound of Jack's voice.
My skirt had ridden up so high it hid nothing. It was almost a belt now. I didn't care. There was a tenderness in my arms, in my thighs. A coolness in me I couldn't explain. Jack continued his meander through eloquence as I leaned into the sensations of existence.
"Submission isn't a sin, Elena. Submission is service. Submission is selfless. No, it's not for everyone, but I see you. I know you. And I accept that submission is who you are. Do you accept that about yourself?"
A tight grip around my neck. A rough squeeze of my tits.
"Open your eyes, my dear."
The world came pouring back in. Flickering candlelight and twinkling lights out the window. Jack's hazy silhouette, towering above me. He was naked now, standing like a Greek myth with his erect cock in all its glory just in front of me. My cotton top was now bunched up around my collarbone, with my tits on display like they were built to be fondled. Aaron and Scott kept exploring my body like it was made for them.
"Tonight, we're going to be our true selves. We're going to do exactly what comes naturally. We're going to find your true purpose."
My eyes flickered. My vision blurred and returned.
"And tomorrow, when you wake, you'll wake happy, with a sense of freedom, a sense of relief. A sense that you've already discovered what you're meant to be. You'd like that, wouldn't you, slut?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Say it."
"I want to live my purpose tonight, Sir. I want to know what I'm for, Sir."
"Good girl."
"Thank you, Sir. Thank you, all of you."
My own hands were on my tits now. Absently caressing, tracing.
Aaron's hand moved further up my thigh. I spread my legs wider, purring at the gesture, at the assumption I could be touched by a perfect stranger without a second thought.
"I'm sorry Sir I just... I'm just feeling the love right now."
