Sooner than later, Armin came back to his senses.
He knew Madam Margaret’s presence always signified there were vultures hovering in the sky close by.
He stepped away from her, suddenly preferring the taunting of the reptile-imitating girls.
However, the more he backed away from her, the further the girls backed away from him too.
It was obvious they had been acting on their own carnal desires.
“Come on now, don’t keep him waiting,” Margaret howled at him.
“Who?”
“Who else?
A new client asked for new stock this morning.
Come along,” she said hurriedly and made for the door.
Armin followed behind her absentmindedly, murmuring curses to her back.
He didn’t realize she had stopped abruptly, and he rammed his face straight into her back.
She smelled of expensive herbs and tea.
He sniffed against her back as his stomach grumbled loudly.
“Get off me, peasant!”
Armin looked up, snapped back to reality, and backed off with a look of disgust.
The hunger in his stomach had been causing him to lose his mind.
He was yet to process what she had been saying all this while; all he could think of was food.
“Are you listening to me—”
“Food,” he mumbled, looking into the void.
“Armin!” she yelled, her voice sounding like a jolt of naked electricity, shocking him back to attention.
It was obvious she had been talking for a while, but the boy she was addressing was lost in his own world.
“Get your senses back here!” she scolded.
“What…
what were you saying?”
Not that he cared about her loud rantings; he just wanted to get it over with so he could leave her sight and stay far away from her presence.
She continued walking down the hall, leading the way to her office.
“Mistress Delilah was supposed to continue your training today,” she started.
Armin’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.
“But a client is interested in you.”
Was this statement any better than the first?
His stomach twisted in contempt.
She stopped again just outside the door of her office and turned to face him, her expression stern with a warning look.
“Listen to me, boy.
That man in there is one of my good clients.
If you rebel against him and ruin my business reputation one more time, I will make sure Delilah uses a hook to replace the leash.” Bringing her face closer, she added, “Read my lips, boy: I tell no fairy tales.”
Armin nodded slowly, not at her threat, but at the wrinkles on her face he was noticing for the first time.
They were heavily concealed with makeup, framing her tobacco-stained teeth and her lips so wide she could easily swallow a large peach.
She snorted at him and turned on her heels.
He followed behind with a rebellious, smug look on his face.
She opened the door and walked in with a large smile stretching across her face, striding elegantly to her seat.
Armin walked in with careless steps and a ridiculous expression, hoping it would make the client lose interest in him.
The man, who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, was huge in size and dressed in a dusty brown suit.
His head was bald, but he had full grey eyebrows and a beard that was obviously dyed brown.
It sprouted long and untrimmed, giving him a rough facial look.
He reminded Armin of a big brown bear.
He crossed his arms over his chest and took two steps back.
“It’s nice doing business,” the man said to the woman as he stood up and walked over to the boy.
He placed a small kiss on Armin’s bare neck.
“You are a beautiful boy.
I wish I could keep you for myself instead.”
Armin revulsed at his touch, but the man didn’t seem to get offended.
He held Armin’s hand, and without looking back at the woman, walked out the door, down the hall, and to his car.
This time, Armin rode in a car without binds eating away into his skin or a dark hood worn over his head to blind his vision.
The man sat next to him in the car.
The driver in the front seat started the engine and hit the road.
Armin looked out the window and noticed they were driving in a convoy—there were two black cars behind them and one in the front.
The car sped off down the road, heading uptown and into the city.
Armin stared in awe.
He had never seen the city, never been to the city.
For a while, he actually forgot his situation—the fact that he had just been bought for the second time, the creep in the car eating him up with his eyes, or the fact that the vehicle was leading him to an unknown new fate.
The city architecture marvelled him.
His mouth hung agape, his eyes wide in admiration as he darted from side to side, peeking out both windows and totally ignoring his fellow passenger.
The car drove into an estate with a high fence and a giant, heavy gate.
It stopped beside a waterfall fountain standing in the middle of the front yard.
The car doors were opened on both sides by two guards dressed in black suits.
Armin stepped down from the vehicle, still looking around in awe.
He had never seen anything like this.
The house was huge and beautiful, painted white and standing three floors high.
The front yard featured a beautifully manicured garden.
The man held his hand and led him toward the front porch.
Armin followed him absentmindedly, still surveying his surroundings.
They stopped at the front porch where two teenagers in their early twenties sat at a small table.
The table was laden with a small basket of fresh fruits, small cuts of different exquisite desserts, and two tall glasses of champagne.
The girl—a blonde with milky skin and a petite frame—was on a phone call.
Her delicate fingers with polished fingernails clutched the expensive phone as she spoke into it in a quiet, angry voice.
Meanwhile, the boy—also a blonde, with freckles scattered beautifully across his face—sported a happy, easygoing expression.
He set his glass of champagne aside, walked up to the man, and gave him a half-hug.
“Hey, Dad.
This one is good, I will have him,” he said, collecting Armin’s hand from his father.
The man resisted, refusing to let go of Armin’s hand.
“You know what, Alex?
I will get you another one.”
“No,” the boy refused, snapping at his dad.
“That’s what you always say.
This is the seventh time, and they keep getting better.
I like this one, he’s so…” He brought his face closer to Armin, searching every detail of his features.
“…perfect,” he concluded.
Armin looked repulsed by the drama unfolding in front of him.
Was a father and son seriously battling over the ownership of an omega?
He shook his head wildly.
The girl stood up, having ended her call without greeting her dad.
She snapped their hands off Armin and pulled him to herself.
“Get your hands off my toy.” Her voice gave her away easily. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He could tell she was the spoiled-rotten princess of the castle who always got what she wanted—the type of daughter that made the rest of the family walk on thin glass.
Her brother and father stood aside, watching her quietly without any form of protest as she grabbed Armin by the waistband of his pants and pulled him into the house.
“Toy?” Armin thought out loud.
He was no toy; he was the breadwinner of his family, his boss’s favorite mechanic.
It might not be much to write home about, but he was absolutely no toy, and definitely not to some spoiled little girl.
It was those reptile-imitating girls’ fault; they had made him up to look like a beautiful Ken doll, Armin thoughts raced.
The girl dragged him inside, shut the door, threw her arms over his shoulders, and pulled him down to her.
She rammed her lips against his, giving him a long, lingering kiss.
She looked into his eyes and smiled sweetly at him.
“You are mine,” she declared as she unclasped him and walked toward the bed.
The room was minimalist and smelled of sweet roses.
The curtain drapes and bedsheets were pink.
The room’s furniture came in all shades of pink.
The ceiling was decorated in pink and gold glitter, and a beautiful pink chandelier hung from it.
The queen-size bed sat neatly beneath it.
“What’s your name, kitten?” she asked.
Her voice sounded like sweet music, but Armin was too dazed to notice.
He ignored her question and walked to the low table at the foot of the bed where a gold tray of exotic fruits lay.
He grabbed an apple, bit into it, and sat at the foot of the table.
His butt sank into the bright pink, plush, fluffy rug.
The unbothered princess lay her body across the bed, her legs dangling in the air as she rested her face in her palms.
She studied his every movement observantly, the smile still plastered on her face.
“My name is Alicia, and I’ve got the keys,” her voice laced with pride.
Armin nodded nonchalantly as he threw a grape into his mouth.
“You are so fine, I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.”
He nodded again and bit into a strawberry.
He was going to eat as much as he could now because his life had been a series of rollercoasters lately.
Who knows if he would be thrown into a holding cell the next second?
The sweet, explosive juices of the fresh fruit hit his tongue, and for a fleeting second, the terrifying memory of Delilah’s faded.
Alicia giggled, a sound that annoyed his ears.
She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow, her eyes tracing the line of his jaw.
“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?
why do you look like a sweet, hungry little stray to me?”
Armin didn’t look at her.
He reached for a slice of kiwi, his fingers sticky.
Let her think whatever she wanted.
If playing the mute, compliant doll kept the food coming and the whips away, he would sit on this hideous pink rug until he swelled up like a balloon.
“But don’t get too comfortable on the floor, kitten,” Alicia said suddenly, her tone dropping its sugary warmth, replaced instead by a rotten nagging voice.
She tapped the silk pink sheets beside her.
“Up here.
I don’t like my toys being so far away from me.”
The heavy silence of the pink room didn’t last, the door handle rattled and the door swung open before Armin could process an answer to her command.
Alex walked in and leaned against the frame with a mocking smirk.
“You can’t keep him locked up in your dollhouse forever, Licia,” he sneered.
Alicia sat up instantly, her delicate face contorting into rage.
Armin quietly took another bite of his fruit, watching the siblings prepare to tear each other apart.