Becoming Omega, Chapter 1

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.