Bound To The Ruthless Alpha

Soraya's POV

Sammy grabbed my wrist tightly, dragging me through the hall like I was nothing more than an object being delivered. My heart pounded against my ribs, my thoughts racing faster than my feet could keep up.

 He was taking me to Madam Felicia.

Madam Felicia stood at the counter when we arrived. She was busty and bold in a spaghetti top that barely contained her heavy chest. 

Her cleavage spilled over, threatening to fall out completely, and she didn't seem to care. Her long fake lashes blinked slowly as she brought a glass of liquor to her mouth and took a long gulp.

 She didn't look at me at first, but I felt the harshness in her glance the moment her eyes met mine.

Sammy cleared his throat. "Um, Miss Felicia, I have Soraya with me."

Madam Felicia hummed as she emptied her glass and set it down, stepping forward with a sway in her hips. 

The scent of alcohol hit my nose sharply when she leaned in, and I instinctively turned my face away. Her perfume couldn't mask the liquor soaking her breath.

"Follow me, Soraya," she said flatly. "We have a very proficient client waiting. You have to look your best."

She turned immediately, walking away like this was routine. Maybe for her, it was. But I didn't want this.

I shouted after her, "Miss Felicia, please, I can't do this."

She stopped mid-step, slowly turned around, and before I could brace myself, she yanked my ear so hard I nearly stumbled forward.

"Did you say something?" Her voice dropped with warning, and her eyes lit with fire. "Are you planning on making me lose a lot of dollars?"

I shook my head quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. There was nothing else I could do.

"Good, now follow me."

I obeyed in silence. Sammy stayed behind me as we walked.

We arrived at the dressing room. She pushed the door open, and I stepped inside. 

It was dimly lit, like every other corner of this place. A single spotlight hung above, casting a weak glow over a small bed.

"That outfit." Madam Felicia pointed.

I followed her hand, squinting at the fabric lying on the bed. It barely looked like clothing. A small piece of red lace shimmered under the light, so tiny it was hard to believe it could cover anything.

"Go into that bathroom," she continued, "shower, and then change into that quickly."

I blinked, stunned.

"Huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at me as I'd just cursed her ancestors.

"Didn't you hear me?" she snapped. "Go and have a bath. Bathe properly. We don't want your clits smelling like rotten eggs and chasing away my client."

I stood in the bathroom, motionless. My bare feet pressed against the cold tiled floor, and I couldn't move. My heart was pounding so fast it felt like it would burst right through my chest. 

In just a few minutes, I was supposed to be in some room with my legs spread and some disgusting man climbing over me, thrusting into me like I was nothing more than an object to satisfy him.

 The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I looked up at the bathroom window. It was too high and way too small. Even if I stacked every damn thing in this bathroom, my body wouldn't fit through it.

"Oh God," I muttered under my breath, feeling the helplessness soak through me like water through cloth. There was no escape.

A sudden loud bang jerked me out of my thoughts.

"Soraya! Are you done having a bath?" Madam Felicia's voice came. "If you think you can waste time there to escape from me, then you are totally mistaken. If you don't come out in exactly three minutes, I'll have Sammy break the door. And whether you're naked or not, we're going to pull you out."

She meant every word. Madam Felicia didn't care about me; she didn't care about anyone. Her only god was money, and I was just another sacrifice on her altar.

With trembling hands, I turned on the shower. The water poured down, but it couldn't cleanse the dread that clung to me. I scrubbed, more out of fear than hygiene. 

My mind wasn't in the moment-my body was here, but my spirit was floating somewhere far away.

When I was done, I grabbed the small brown towel and wrapped it around myself tightly, my arms folded across my chest. I stepped out of the bathroom slowly.

 My bare skin prickled under the cold air, but worse was the embarrassment. Sammy was still in the room, standing like some mindless guard dog.

Madam Felicia eyed me.

"Hmm. Hope you bathed and washed yourself properly."

I nodded quickly.

"Good," she said curtly, holding out something red and flimsy. "Take this."

She shoved the piece of fabric toward me. "Go in there, clean your body with that towel, and wear that outfit quickly."

I didn't speak. I turned and went back into the bathroom with trembling hands. I let the towel fall from my body and stared at the outfit in my hands. 

Were these even clothes?

I pulled it on slowly. The hem barely passed the curve of my butt. The chest area was worse, a see-through mesh, with only two small black patches barely hiding my nipples. 

My cleavage was out, my boobs were clearly visible through the net. I wanted to die. I wanted the ground to just open and swallow me.

I stood still for a moment, breathing shallowly. Then, gathering every scrap of courage I didn't feel, I stepped out.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to hide what little dignity I had left. The outfit was so revealing, I felt like I was walking out there naked.

Madam Felicia's eyes landed on me immediately.

She marched over and yanked my arms away from my chest. "What the hell are you covering?" she snapped. "Put your hands down."

I swallowed, stiffening under her sharp gaze as she stepped back to look at me from head to toe. Her eyes slowly roamed over my body like I was a mannequin in a display case.

"Hmm," she muttered. "Your tits aren't so bad after all. If I'd known this earlier, you'd have been on premium clients from day one." Her laugh was cold. "Good for you. You're going to be used really well tonight."

My stomach twisted.

"Turn around," she said.

I hesitated.

"I said turn around."

I turned slowly, wishing I could disappear. She came closer, and then suddenly, I felt her hand grab one side of my butt. My eyes widened in shock.

"Soft enough, I guess," she mumbled under her breath like she was assessing a product.

I didn't say anything; my throat felt like it had shut completely.

"Go sit there," she ordered.

I was nudged toward the dressing table. The seat was cold against my bare skin as I sat, trying not to shake. She snatched a comb and dragged it through my hair like she was trying to rip my scalp off.

"Ouch!" I cried.

She didn't stop. "Shut up. The client is almost here, you're the reason we're running late."

The brush moved again, yanking through tangles with no care for the pain. I bit the inside of my cheek just to keep from whimpering.

 She smeared some makeup over my face: foundation, lipstick, something shimmery near my eyes. I didn't even bother to look in the mirror.

When she was done, she stepped back and nodded once. "Good, now for perfume."

I barely had time to brace myself before she sprayed it all over me, including near my neck and chest. The scent was so strong it slipped into my mouth.

"Pah!" I choked, spitting slightly.

"Perfect," she said.

The next thing I knew, Madam Felicia had me by the wrist, dragging me down the hallway like I was some stubborn child. 

Her grip was so tight I could feel her nails biting into my skin. I stumbled behind her in silence, trying not to trip in the ridiculous heels she'd forced on me.

We stopped in front of a door, Room 27. The brass number on the frame looked like it had been scratched one too many times.

Before I could even ask what was happening, she shoved the door open and pushed me inside. I nearly fell.

She was about to slam the door shut when a voice called out behind her.

"Madam Felicia!" Sammy's voice was breathless as he came running up the hallway. "The client is here!"

Felicia paused, turned halfway, then smiled like this was the best news she'd heard all day. Slowly, she looked back at me, and the smile twisted into something that made my chest go cold.

"Soraya," she said sweetly, "your client is here."

Then she shut the door.