Chosen

This story was driven by a desire to see more Omega/Alpha stories on this platform. If you're not a fan of dominance, submission, and reluctance, then this story is not for you. If you're a fan of Addison Cain, ReckingBall's Poison Ivy series, or Omegaverse in general, then this story is for you.

If you're not familiar with the Omegaverse, I suggest Googling it beforehand.

Finally, this is my first attempt at writing so please be kind. All characters over the age 18.

"I hate these damn suppressants. I want to scent her before choosing." Once again, the man behind me lifted my hair and inhaled deeply, as if my scent had magically appeared in the intervening seconds. With a terse, frustrated growl, he released my hair.

"We understand your frustration," Mistress Beauchamp calmly replied, "but of course the suppressants are for your benefit. That way her first time will be with you."

The woman's ability to remain calm in the face of an Alpha growl impressed me. Even with such a low, short growl, the hair on my arms had prickled and my breathing had quickened. But then again, Mistress Beauchamp dealt with Alphas every day.

"You can guarantee she has yet to experience heat?"

"All of our charges are identified by the mandatory DNA testing at age 12. Upon arriving at the facility, they are immediately put on hormone suppressants, which continue until they are chosen by an Alpha. Whichever Omega you choose - her first heat will be with you."

The man stepped in front of me, grabbed my chin, and tilted it up. "Look at me," he commanded. I wanted to disobey, to show this arrogant Alpha that I wouldn't be his obedient little plaything. But I was not immune to my Omega instincts. I quickly lifted my eyes. His eyes pierced mine. Could he see the resistance brimming there?

With an arrogant smile, he spoke again, this time to me. "I can't wait to hear you begging for my cock."

Fat chance of that.

But I knew what happened to Omegas in estrous, knew the stories my sisters had whispered in the dark after lights out. Not my own sister, I thought bitterly. But my sisters-in-arms at this Omega training camp.

The man wrenched his eyes back towards Mistress Beauchamp. "I can't try her out?"

Mistress Beauchamp's eyes narrowed. "We are not one of those schools, General. We pride ourselves on producing Omegas of quality and class."

The unspoken words of her response were clear. Not like

those

schools, where Omegas were treated little better than whores. Where any Alpha could "try out" an Omega, as long as they had high enough rank. I shivered at the thought, and the General's gaze returned to me. "Speak," he ordered.

I knew the expected response.

I hope this Omega pleases you, Sir.

The perfect submissive, simpering, brainless response.

"Why me?"

Only two words, but the General tightened his grip on my chin. "You're an Omega," he sneered. "Do I need another reason?"

I held his gaze for a few more moments. His eyes narrowed at my small but meaningful resistance. It was all I could manage before giving in to my instincts, dropping my eyes to the floor.

"No, Sir."

At that, the General dropped my chin and turned to Mistress Beauchamp. "I'll take her."

"Wonderful." Mistress Beauchamp clapped her hands together. "I'm sure she will be the perfect Omega for you. If you would return to the foyer," she nodded to the door on her left, "we have a few papers for you to sign before this Omega is legally yours. Meanwhile, I'll prepare her for the Binding Ceremony tomorrow."

Even after seven years in this "school" -- and I used the term sarcastically -- I couldn't stand the way they referred to me by my dynamic only. As if I were only an Omega, nothing more. I guess to him I was. The Binding Ceremony tomorrow would cement my status as the General's property. I had seen enough of my sisters go through it: Standing next to an Alpha in a white dress, particularly small- and diminutive-looking when compared to an Alpha's hulking form. Flanked by my perfect Omega mother and my stoic Alpha father.

I resisted the temptation to sneer. I certainly didn't get my resistance from her mother, who endorsed Omega ideals with the fervor of a brainwashed disciple.

I belong to my Alpha. I will obey my Alpha. I will take my Alpha's knot with a fucking smile as he mindlessly ruts his aggression into me.

Okay, technically the last one wasn't an Omega beatitude, but it summed up my feelings on the matter. No, I had not learned my resistance from my mother, but rather from my sister. From her I had learned that Omegas are more than a pretty face and a tight cunt, that I could have thoughts and feelings about something other than my Alpha. But that was before Moira had ran away. Since then, I had navigated this Omega hellhole alone.

"Congratulations." Mistress Beauchamp's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You have been Chosen by a particularly high-ranking Alpha. This is the highest possible honor an Omega can hope to achieve. Once he marks you, you can finally fulfill your ultimate purpose - to serve your Alpha and bear his children."

And become a prized breeding mare,

I added silently. But the Mistress, oblivious to my silent resistance, was already leading me out of the Viewing Room and into the Salon, where a team of Mistresses was waiting.

---

Hours later, I plopped into my seat in the Dining Hall, letting my posture sag as I began to play with my food. Tonight the Mistresses had handed me a special tray, different from the one my sisters received. I knew the difference: My food was no longer laced with the chemical suppressants used to inhibit estrous. The idea triggered a tiny spark of fear. I hated my Omega instincts and dreaded the three-to-four days when I would be a slave to them, when my insides would automatically produce puddles of that treacherous slick. When I would -- as the General had crassly stated -- beg for cock. Whether I liked it or not, I would enter heat soon.

"Alessia!" Pearl called out, setting her tray beside mine. She was followed by my other Omega sisters. "We heard the bad news," she whispered. "How did the Final Sessions go?"

I refused to let my last night with my sisters be marred by the knowledge of what was to come. "Do I look especially beautiful to you?" I responded with a teasing grin, jokingly tossing my hair over my shoulder. "I should, after the hours of primping I went through. I thought our weekly visits to the Salon were bad enough." I lowered my voice. "Did you know that they remove almost all your hair, down there? All I have left is a tiny patch."

"I heard that from Serena," chimed Sophia. "She couldn't wait to fill us all in the details after she was Chosen. Did the Mistresses quiz you too?"

"Yep," I responded. "One final review session to make sure I'm ready to be the perfect fucking Omega. And unfortunately I mean that literally."

"Language!" Pearl hissed under her breath, with a sharp glance to the front of the Dining Hall, where the Mistresses were seated. "You don't want to be disciplined right before the Binding Ceremony. You know they can do it without leaving a mark."

"Wouldn't want to be anything but pristine for the bloody fucking General," I muttered under my breath.

But I froze when one of the Mistresses stood up from her chair and ambled towards our table.

Shit, they couldn't hear me, could they?

Pearl was right -- the Mistresses were creative in their means of disciplines, as I knew well.

The conversation around their table fell to a quiet hush as the Mistress approached. I felt a sharp, strong tug on my shoulders.

"Shoulders back and spine straight," the Mistress reprimanded. "Now that you've been Chosen, it's more important than ever to follow your training. You wouldn't want to disappoint your new Alpha. We've trained you better than this."

Indeed, over the past seven years, the Mistresses -- all Beta -- had extensively trained my fellow Omegas and I in deportment, grace, and etiquette, so that we could better serve our Alpha when we were eventually Chosen. All Omegas were required to attend the state-sponsored Omega "schools" for such training. In theory, the schools protected the supposedly weaker dynamic from errant Alphas and Betas. In reality, the schools sequestered the increasingly rare Omegas and raised us like cattle to be given to high-ranking, wealthy Alphas.

But even knowing that, I couldn't avoid the schools. Rumor had it that delinquent Omegas -- those who hid their dynamic or didn't attend the training schools -- were sent to cheap whore houses, where they developed bedsores from all the time they spent on their backs. For all I knew, Moira had been found and sent to one of those places. I tried not to think about it.

"Are you ready for your Binding Ceremony tomorrow, Alessia?" the Mistress asked. Another thing I tried not to think about. "You are a lucky Omega to have been Chosen by the General. I admit we were worried when you first arrived -- you had quite the little defiant streak." The Mistress chuckled lightly, as if it was a joke enjoyed all around. "But in the end we straightened you out. Thank God you didn't end up like that rebellious sister of yours."

I didn't realize I was shaking until Pearl laid a hand across my arm. With that, I moved my hands under the table and clenched my fists.

In and out. Don't react.

"After all," the Mistress continued with a smile, "being Omega is a privilege."

---

The door slamming shut may as well have been the slam of a jail cell. I looked around my new home, desperate for anywhere to look other than at my new Alpha. We had entered through the foyer. Everything was clean lines, modern furnishings. Other than the white dress, which I still wore, there was no physical sign that the Binding Ceremony had just taken place. Betas wore wedding rings to symbolize their union, but a mated Omega wore something much more permanent: The Alpha's mark. But the General couldn't mark me until I entered estrous, so for now, the space between my neck and shoulder was unmarred.

Legally his. Legally his. Legally his.

The words seemed to whisper into my ear. I had known this day would come, but now that it was here, I was in slight disbelief. The

t

s were crossed and

i

s were dotted, and I was, legally --

"Strip."

My head snapped towards the General in shock. He had taken off his formal military jacket, draped it over a chair, and was now rolling up the sleeves to his white button-up. "Ex-excuse me?" I stuttered.

"You heard what I said. I want to see what I paid for."

"But Omegas aren't purchased --"

"Only high-ranking officials are allowed to possess an Omega. I paid for you with decades of hard work. I paid for you with my sweat. See this scar?" He pointed to a long line on his forearm. "I even paid for you with my blood. Now I want to see what I own. Strip."

The blood began to boil under my skin. I didn't expect much from Alphas, but this? The first words he had ever spoken to me, and they were a command to strip.

"I guess it would be too much to wait until we were in the bedroom?" The words fell out before I could stop them. "Or perhaps you want to give me a tour of the house that will be my jail cell? I spent seven years training to be the perfect Omega for you, and your first words to me are 'strip'?"

"You want it in the bedroom? Fine." The General seized me by the back of the neck. His oversized hand wrapped almost entirely around my neck. As he marched me through the house and up the stairs, his fingers tightened over the two jugular veins. I could feel my blood pressure start to rise.

We entered the bedroom, and the General threw me onto the floor. My blood pressure started to normalize, until the General began to speak.

"I had hoped to start with a bit of fun, but it seems we must get this out of the way first. My expectations for you."

"Your expectations?" I asked in disbelief.

"You come from the top Omega school, so I know you were well trained." His eyes roamed down my body. "Physically, you're perfect. But it seems you have some nasty little habits I already need to break you of. When we are in public -- say, at military functions, or private dinner parties -- you are on speech and sight restrictions."

"Speech and sight restrictions?" I gasped. I knew what they were, of course, but I never dreamed that my Alpha would actually implement them.

"That's right," the General sneered. "Eyes down or on me, all the time. No wandering gaze. I can already tell you have a little mouth on you, and we are squashing that habit right away. You may only speak when spoken to."

"That's barbaric!"

"That's my right, as your Alpha. I want your attention to be on me, at all times. If I am to maintain my current position, I need an Omega who will represent me with grace, poise, and-- most of all -- submission. If you dare to defy me, then others will think they can defy me as well."

"But in private --"

"In private, the same rules apply. You can think of it as practice for the public events that we will attend. But I'm not a monster," he reached out to stroke my cheek. "You can speak at the weekly Omega gatherings, as long as you still represent me well."

"The weekly Omega gatherings?"

"All mated Omegas on base meet once a week for tea and chat. To be honest, I don't know exactly what they talk about, but I think it will be good for you to be around other, more obedient Omegas. I will allow you to attend."

"Thank you for the kind gesture," I muttered sarcastically. His eyes narrowed, and the faint stench of Alpha anger began to fill the air. He otherwise ignored my comment.

"Last expectation," he continued. "You will not go anywhere without at least two escorts. I will assign two Betas for this task. This is for your safety, as well as to ensure you don't engage in any...mischief."

"My safety?"

"I am a high-ranking military officer. Many might wish to take what I possess, as a bargaining chip, or in revenge. When you are home, the Betas will be stationed at each entry and exit. They will go with you to the weekly Omega gatherings. Otherwise you are not allowed out of the house without my express permission. Any questions?"

After a brief pause, I asked flatly, "Is this a joke?"

I didn't see his hand coming. My cheek throbbed painfully. As I reached to touch my cheek, I could feel the literal heat emanating from where his hand had been.

"Speech and sight restrictions start now. Now strip." His tone indicated that he would brook no argument this time. My blood ran cold. Alphas were notoriously authoritarian and dominant, so I had expected a strict Alpha. But not...this.

I slowly rose to my feet and grabbed the hem of my dress. I tried to take my dress off clinically, with as little sex appeal as possible, but the General grabbed my hand.

"Stop. I know about the little class you took on how to please an Alpha. I want to see what you learned. Now strip."

My eyes burned. Every class I took was on how to please an Alpha, but I knew the one he meant. The one every newly-turned-18 Omega was required to take. The one on sexual pleasure.

I dropped the hem of my gown and turned around. I slowly pulled the zipper down to reveal my tight, figure-hugging corset. Turning to face him, I released the ties that held up my dress, letting it fall to the floor. Now I stood before him dressed only in my corset and underwear. I descended to the floor, one knee at a time, and folded the dress. Afterwards, I set it to the side and remained kneeling before him.

"Exquisite," the General murmured. He took a step closer and released the buckle on his pants. A quick pull of the zipper, and his cock sprung forward. It was hard and ready and thick, almost as thick as my forearm. Yet, I had been prepared for that. The smell of aroused Alpha now permeated the air, and unbidden, my body started to respond.

I had been told that I would have trouble resisting my Alpha. That, even outside of estrous, Omega instincts would make me crave Alpha cock. I knew now what my sisters meant. This man horrified and disgusted me, with his domineering Alpha bullshit. He was oppressive and cruel, even for an Alpha. But at the same time, I wanted his cock. I wanted his cum. My mouth began to salivate, and I could feel the first trickle of slick beginning to seep from between my thighs. My body was responding without my consent.

"Show me what you can do," the General growled.

I knew by now not to resist. I leaned forward and took his cock deep into my mouth. The hot, sweaty rod in my mouth didn't compare to the plastic dildos the Mistresses had trained us on. It was so much more real, so much more visceral.

I flicked my tongue against the ridge of his head and sucked hard. I pressed forward, taking his cock deep into my throat, until my nose pressed against his hairy groin. I pressed my tongue along the length and massaged gently. When I grew lightheaded from lack of air, I pulled back until my lips rested just around the head.

The General released a low growl of satisfaction, which my traitorous body instantly responded to. Slick gushed from between my legs. I pressed my legs together tightly, but the General had already scented it. He inhaled deeply.

"Yes," he breathed with a moan. "I can smell your Omega cunt already. Preparing itself for me."

The General twisted his fingers into my mahogany-colored hair and tugged me back onto his cock. Soon he was using my mouth like a cunt, while I tried my best to breathe. Gone were the tips and tricks I had learned at school -- now the General treated my mouth as just a hole to fuck.

After a few more pumps, the General yanked me to my feet and spun me around. In my weakest moments, I had hoped for a kind Alpha, one who would gently loosen the corset strings. But the General was nothing like that. With a growl -- again, making my pussy drip with slick -- the General shredded the corset strings in two savage rips.

The General, still standing behind me, pulled my body flush against his. I stood there, almost naked, wearing only my underwear, while he was still mostly clothed. I could feel his hard cock straining through the opening in his pants to get to the warm wetness between my thighs.

He roughly kneaded my breasts, squeezing hard enough that I gasped. Oblivious to my pain, he continued on to my nipples, pinching and tweaking them until they rose to pointed tips.

With one hand still on my breast and another on my shoulder, the General pushed me back to my knees, this time following suit. Again grabbing me by the back of the neck, he shoved my shoulders down to the floor. His other hand returned to my hip, pulling my hips flush to his. Another growl left a puddle of slick on the floor beneath me.

I knew this was how resistant Omegas were rutted -- face down, ass up, with no nest for comfort. I wanted to nest, to feel physical safety of the properly arranged bedding. I wanted my Omega sisters. I wanted Moira. I wanted a different Alpha. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Of all my wishes, the nest was the only one that could be granted. I tried to turn my head to look at the bed, but the Alpha's hand still held my neck tightly. I couldn't help but plead, "Please, can we --"

"No talking," the General growled. "Speech restrictions still in effect."

He pulled my underwear to the side. I felt something hard bump against my pussy. This was the one thing Omega Sex Ed hadn't prepared me for. We may have been trained in the art of sexual pleasure, but the Mistresses kept our sexes pure and untouched, so our Alphas could enjoy our tightness. So our Alphas could know they were the first -- and only -- ones.

I knew what was coming, but I still squeezed my eyes tightly against the invasion. I hated that my traitorous body had prepared itself to him. I hated that that uncontrollable slick would make his assault easier. I hated that forceful urge in my bones that made me want to submit. I hated that my pussy clenched at the thought of what was to come.