Page 106 of The Forgotten

The wretched bitch goes in with tweezers, but I’m hoping my skin will begin to go numb soon. Relaxing a little, I grit my teeth and allow her to finish up.

“That’s as good as this is going to get,” she mumbles. “Stand up for me.”

The woman is a beta, which means she can’t bark me into doing shit. That doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me to get me to obey, so I move quickly until I’m standing in front of her. My skin is bright red in places, and areas of my face and pussy throb uncomfortably.

Making a face at me, she pushes my lips together and forces a pill into my mouth.

“Swallow that,” she orders, grabbing a glass of water off the table and forcing me to drink it. “Despite the fact that you dance so much, I doubt that you’ve properly evacuated your colon, so this will make you do that.”

Realizing that she is trying to make me poop, my jaw drops as my stomach begins to churn.

“Off you go,” she says, shooing me away. “Close the door behind you. I don’t need to smell the noxious fumes coming from your ass.”

Whimpering as my stomach fucking cramps, I race to the bathroom. I’m not sure how much time passes as I sweat and shudder in pain, but it’s agonizing. Finally finishing up, I’m breathing hard as I flush the toilet and clean myself.

As I’m washing my hands, Rubella unlocks the door and walks in without checking to see if I’m actually done or not. I shouldn’t be surprised, because any kind of privacy I receive is contrived at best.

“In the shower,” she orders. “We’re running late and I still have a lot to do.”

Rubella turns on the water and pushes me under the freezing cold without remorse. Teeth chattering, I begin to wash my hair. Rubella watches me the entire time as my muscles threaten to lock up as I shower. Finally, the water warms up, and I’m able to move and breathe a little easier.

“Turn around and bend over,” she barks, opening the other door to the sliding glass doors to turn on that shower head.

Not knowing why she wants me to do that, I do as she says.

“Come on,” Rubella complains.

I’m not going to lie, my asshole is swollen after the travesty that just happened to it. I’m not looking forward to what she has planned.

“For fuck’s sake, girl. Grab those ass cheeks and spread them apart. I need to make sure you’re clean,” she says.

My eyes close in humiliation as my hands move to my ass to obey her.

The water spray is freezing since she’s controlling it, and she takes care to be extra cruel. My feet move onto my toes, my tongue pasting itself to the roof of my mouth to hold back a squeal.

“I bet you’re just as much of a dead fish in the bedroom,” Rubella mutters under her breath. “I don’t know why I’m going to all of this trouble.”

She’s made sure to only touch me with gloved hands, and I noticed earlier that she’s careful to change them out as needed. In true fashion, her fingers prod at my ass, with the water spray, shoving them inside to check to make sure that I’m completely cleaned out.

I can’t help it, even though I desperately try. Tears slide down my cheeks in shame and pain as she’s not exactly gentle, and I’m grateful for the water that’s keeping my secrets today. Three fingers are shoved inside of my asshole, and my body threatens to react to them as goosebumps raise along my skin.

“All omegas are sluts,” Rubella murmurs under her breath. “Alright, your master will be happy enough with my work. Wash your body extra well and be quick about it.”

Turning off the other shower head that’s spewing freezing cold water, she changes out her gloves again while I pump body wash into my hands and scrub at my skin. I only half do it because she told me to, and the other half is due to wanting to erase her touch.

Once done, she pats my skin down with a towel as if I’m a toddler who can’t do it myself, and then I’m forced into a chair. The entire time as she dries my thick hair, Rubella mutters to herself as she burns my scalp repeatedly. Breathing through the pain I force myself not to flinch, I let her curl, braid, and pin it until it’s out of my face and flowing down my back.

After this, she does my makeup. I’ve never worn any outside of stage performances. This doesn’t seem as heavy as what I’m used to wearing, but I’m not facing a mirror, so I have no idea if she’s turning me into a clown or not.

During this entire process, I sit naked in the chair, and the door opens as she finishes. Two other women walk inside, leaving the door wide open as they do. Curling my fingers under so my nails dig into my palm, I force my expression to seem uncaring even though I’m dying with embarrassment.

The women cut my nails, paint them, and then begin to speak to Rubella as if I don’t exist.

“She has to be perfect,” Rubella hisses. “Did you bring the dress?”

“Yes,” one of the younger women says, nodding. She has her drab blonde hair up in a braided bun, and she’s wearing clothes that cover every inch of her skin.

The three of them smell evil, like pickled eggs and vinegar. There are different shades of the scent, making me vaguely wonder if they’re related.