"Whenever he was around, I was either kneeling in front of him sucking his dick," I said quietly, my voice steady even though the memories were anything but. "Or I was in the kitchen doing something. He hated me not being busy."
The room fell silent. I hated Andrew and how he made me feel little. He reminded me all the time that the job if an omega was to take his alphas dick and to cook or clean.
I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn't look up yet.
"He called me defective because I sucked at cooking," I continued, my fingers tightening slightly together. "I got hit with anything he could get his hands on. A pan. A stick. The TV remote. Anything."
The shocked look on their faces almost made me laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because, for the longest time, I had believed this was normal.
