"This is your last chance, girl, or you will be sold off to the brothels. Now go." The woman in charge of the dressing room growled, a frown on her face as she cruelly pushed the girl she was just done with.
The heels of her shoes were so high that she was clumsy when she tried to walk as she was not used to wearing them. A few steps more, she stumbled and would have fallen had she not caught herself in time.
Taking a deep breath, she continued walking on, the only thing between her and her fate at this point being a beaded pair of curtains.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she passed them, walking to the brightly lit stage where eight other girls danced before strip poles while wearing bikinis that showed off their bodies.
This was a strip club, made only for the most prestigious Alphas. Many times, Alphas bought female werewolves for a harem here, and it was exactly why she was walking to the stage— to be shown off.
"Priscilla Martin, walking to the stage, now." A voice called out above the loud music the girls were all dancing to. "Blonde, nineteen years of age, 5'3 height, and sure for a good buy."
She was visibly surprised to hear her own name, even though it had been called more than five times on previous occasions. Slowly, and with her heart racing in her chest, she went to one of the shiny steel poles and grasped it, her back to the crowd of Alphas assembled around, their section of the room poorly illuminated by dim red and blue lights.
"Denise Williams is being sold for five hundred thousand dollars. Any other bidder?" The voice asked.
"Eight hundred." Someone from the audience called.
"Denise going for eight hundred—"
"A million." Another made a final call. When no one else said a word, Denise was led away from the pole, a triumphant smile on her face as beads of sweat trickled down her chest.
As if triggered by this sale of Denise, other girls began to take bits of their clothes off, dancing as hard as they could, and they were all taken one by one until Priscilla Martin stood alone, her chest pushed out awkwardly before her, now facing a near empty room.
She was the only one who had not taken off her clothes.
"Priscilla Martin," The voice announced again, seemingly bored. "Priscilla Martin for sale."
The unanswered echo of the voice in the room suggested to Priscilla that she was unsold once again, no one taking any interest in her until every other girl had been sold, and since this had been her last chance, she was going to be sent to the brothels to become a prostitute for every werewolf who could afford her and not just prestigious Alphas this time.
No one wanted her, it seemed.
"Priscilla Martin for two hundred thousand dollars." A grumpy voice said.
She looked in the direction of the voice, but she could not see who had spoken properly because of how dim it was in the audience's section.
"Three hundred thousand."
"Done!"
Priscilla almost could not believe her ears. She was not happy to have been bought, but she still did not want to go to the brothels.
Waiting until one of the women came to lead her to her buyer, she stood there, until one of the women came to lead her to him. He sat with his legs spread wide apart in a powerful pose, and as far as she could tell from his silhouette, he was wearing a suit and his shoulders were broad.
"You are mine now, girl." He nodded satisfactorily, speaking in a deep low voice and rubbing his palms against each other.
She looked down to the ground when he rose up, his head towering above hers, and when he took her hand to lead her into one of the rooms, she followed meekly like a lamb.
Inside the room was a much brighter light, and it was only after he locked the door behind them and turned to look at her that she was able to see him properly.
His powerful gaze held hers as the black irises focused themselves on her, and his hard jawline clenched when he took in a deep breath and bit his lower lip. He turned away from her, taking off the suit and shirt, so that his tanned skin showed the rippling of hard muscle under them.
Such a young Alpha, she thought to herself. He could not have been more than twenty-five. Yet, there seemed to be something wrong with him.
Yes, there was a frown on his face.
He soon turned back to her and without warning, moved himself with her until he pressed her with her back to a wall. Hungrily, he took his lips in hers, kissing her as his hand reached down and grabbed her behind.
Priscilla felt his erection press against her abdomen as he drew closer, hard as steel, and she knew he wanted her when his hand moved from her behind to her hair and face, caressing it with surprising gentleness. Moments later his finger tugged against the strap of her bra until he freed her breasts, and soon they were on the bed, his body hovering over hers.
His mouth sucked on her nipples until she moaned, and his probing fingers caressed the wetness under her G-string until he pulled them off and tossed them away. He then tugged at his trousers and unzipped them.
Without hesitance, he pulled her legs apart, but she pulled them back, crossing them together. His reaction scared her a bit— one of his eyebrows jumped up on his face questioningly.
That, she realised, was his way of asking what she was holding back for.
She could not hold it in, however, and she needed to tell him. "I have never done this before, Alpha."
"What do you mean by saying you have never done this before? Are you not a stripper?" He asked, his mouth hanging open without an expression.
Priscilla found she was at a loss on what to say, but she still had to speak. "I said I am a virgin, Sir." She repeated, feeling absurd with how she lay back on the bed and looked at him from below.
A pained smile appeared on his face and he bit his lip once more, pulling away as he did. He got off and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, leaving her very unsure on what to do next. Worse, he confused her even more the moment he rose and went into the bathroom without a word.
Shy of her own nakedness now that he was not undressing her, she pulled the bed covers around herself, looking for the bare pieces of clothing he had undone in his desire.
Did he want her to wait for him?
Had he gone off to prepare himself to break through her hymen?
These and many more thoughts passed through her head in the duration of five minutes, until he came back from the bathroom, a towel around his waist. As soon as he set his eyes upon her, he stopped in his tracks.
"What are you still doing here?" He asked, his voice furious. "Do I need a soothsayer to tell you to get yourself out?"
Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and a hard, dry lump formed in her throat. Why was he treating her like this?
She lacked the presence of mind to get herself out so that she struggled to slip the bikini back on. Her slowness, however, only seemed to infuriate him, and he did not hold it back.
"Just get yourself out, girl. Quit trying to be modest and get out!" He roared.
She was hurt by his words, so much that she could only pick up her shoes and unlock the door, slamming it behind her once she was on the other side of it as the several people in the hallway turned to look at her.
Feeling that many pairs of eyes on her, her body betrayed her. She rested her back against the door, tried in vain to cover her face with her palms, and let her hot tears drip down her cheeks.
She had been sitting down there for a few minutes when she felt a shadow cover her, and when she raised her eyes to look, she screamed for help that never came.