Chapter Text
Entering the Boudoir was like entering an entire different universe: a fantasy world filled with warm purples and fresh greens. There were plush chaise longues with jewel toned cushions and draped curtains in a deep ruby red. The room was dominated by a cherry wooden vanity with a large mirror in an elaborate frame. It was scattered with colourful bottles and jars, brushes and powder boxes. A flowery sweet smell, distinctly omega, always hung heavily in the air. It looked like a scene from The Arabian Nights.
The Boudoir was part of the large complex where auction house, meeting rooms, gambling and nightclub came together and everything revolved around its owner, the absolute king of this night castle: Song Soobin. His castle was ‘invite only’, only the very privileged knew what really went on in there. The less fortunate ones had to do with the whispered stories of those outrageous nights: the orgies, the high class omega that were sold there that no mere mortal would ever lay eyes on, the sheer opulence and the golden bathrooms. It was good for publicity and it helped to fill the nightclubs of Song: many had high hopes for a golden ticket.
Where Song Soobin was king of the castle, Park Seongwha ruled the Boudoir. Apart from the few betas whom Seongwha always treated as his staff, only omega's were allowed in here. And right now, just before another night filled with entertainment, the room was filled with eight of them, changing clothes, applying makeup or idly reclining in the chairs, brushing their hair or painting nails.
Seonghwa was sitting in front of his vanity, applying just a thin layer of makeup, dusting a blush high on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, because the suggested hint of arousal always did wonders for the guests. He wore a dressing gown, in a deep purple colour, trimmed with a fluffy pink border.
Next to him sat Yejun, and boy did she have talent. They knew eachother for such a long time that Seongwha almost considered her a sister, a sister that he fucked almost on daily basis that was. Yejun was owned by Yoon Hyun, another one of the movers and shakers of the Korean underworld, specialised in art -or actually forgery- and currently a close business associate of the Songs.
Yejun was a beauty: a bountiful, lascivious goddess, all soft round curves and dimples to sink your fingers and teeth in. She was made for pleasure and radiated sex as she casually coated her full plush lips with another layer of glitter. Because Yejun was a possessive goddess as well and nothing marked territory more clearly (and semi permanently) than leaving glitter all over the dicks of the most powerful men of Seoul. Seonghwa envied Yejun more than he was willing to admit. He envied her for the see through negligees that weightlessly floated around her body, the stay up stockings that she wore with the lace tightly hugging her thick thighs, the six inch heels with bright red soles. She was perfect in every way. Seonghwa copied her motions, applying soft pink lip gloss to his own lips, just to make them stand out. Yejun saw it, but said nothing of it.
One of the staff members came in with the mail. Letters and boxes that he distributed to the different omega’s in the room. There was a black box for Seonghwa and a white one for Yejun. She read the card and opened the lid with a deep sigh, prying a chocolate from the box: “More chocolate… One of these better contains a diamond ring,” she muttered, biting down on the ridiculously expensive, gold dusted bonbon from Belgium.
Seonghwa grinned and then opened up his box that came from Versace, revealing a crude golden chain necklace with a large solid gold Medusa head. The snake eyes were made of tiny rubies and the Medusa had onyx eyes. His face fell a bit as he saw the piece and then read the card out loud: “ Your beauty stuns me, please accept my gift of admiration. Your general. Ugh, tacky…” he shuddered, closing the box quickly to hide it deep inside one of the drawers. He then clapped his hands: “Remember loves: be grateful. Thank your benevolent oppa’s.”
“Yes Mother,” the omega’s in the room all stood up to retrieve pen and paper from the desk in the corner, writing their small thank-yous collectively. Seonghwa also took a card from his desk, rubbing his wrist over it to scent it with his unique sugar and spice scent. His handwriting was precise: “ Thank you, hyung. You are too kind . Hwa ”, deviously playing into the hyung kink of the general but withholding his otherwise common invitation to come over and visit him soon. He kissed the card, adding a trace of the sticky gloss to it before he carelessly tossed it to the pile of notes and cards, leaving it to the staff to make sure the letters would find their rightful owners.
Seonghwa stood up and stretched his limbs: “Okay, those who are presentable can join their owners on the floor. Go now,” he gently coaxed them out of the safety of his boudoir, into the high risk world that he called ‘floor’ as if it was a stage, as if they just had a part to play there. He watched them leave, fingering the label on his collar. It was a small golden plate, neatly engraved with the name Song Soobin, his collar nothing more but a delicate golden circle. It was enough, because everyone knew him and his owner and no one in his right mind would defy Soobins ownership, or Seonghwa’s status on the compound.
He wasn’t just a pleasure pet, he was the pleasure pet. The example to strive for, the one in charge of educating the new editions. He was also the gatekeeper. If you were here to purchase, you had to meet the strict requirements of Park Seonghwa and the Pavilion only opened up after his approval.
That was exactly the reason why a mousy looking girl was being shoved into his direction. She looked shy and skittish, eyes fixed to the ground as she bowed before him, fidgeting with her fingers, trembling a bit. Absolutely untrained, absolutely unsuited to leave the Pavilion with its safe high walls and closed gates. He just raised his brows as he looked her up and down and it was enough to make the chaperone next to her speak up: “They requested another virgin auction. The Official attending tonight specifically asked for her.” Yejun huffed from across the room: “Another one? What is this, a trend?” Seonghwa shook his head, helping the girl up and then took her hand, guiding her into the Boudoir.
“Tell me, how long have you been here now?”
“A- a week, s-sir,” she stuttered, voice barely audible and watery with the tears that were about to spill.
“Right. In here, you will call me Mother. Out there, you will call me Seonghwa. I’m not sir, I am definitely not your oppa.” The girl nodded frantically, fidgeting even more with the sleeves of her black sweater. She seemed upset with the fact that she’d already screwed up: “I’m sorry…mother.”
Seonghwa hummed and opened up a drawer of the desk, taking out two shot glasses and a bottle of soju. He poured them both a glass and then spiked one with a white powder from a small silver vial. He swirled the cup and then handed it to the girl who was looking at him wide eyed.
“This will help,” he just said, clinking his glass to hers. He downed the soju with ease and then reached below the desk while the girl took a careful sip. “Just, bottoms up,” Seonghwa guided her, and she obliged, almost choking on the sharp liquor that burned its way down her throat. He counted the seconds, and then handed her the wastebin just in time before she suddenly threw up the contents of her diner, heaving violently into the bin. It took her by surprise and she clutched the bin tightly, whining shocked apologies between the bouts of vomit. “Better out, then in,” Seonghwa murmured while patting her shoulder.
“This one is obviously ill, take her back to her room and bring a replacement.” The chaperone closed her eyes for a moment, keeping in a sigh. “The master specifically asked for her tonight,” she tried, pointing to the girl who was by now retching her guts out. Seongwha put on his most innocent face: “Her? I can hardly believe he wants her in this state. It will not happen tonight, take her back.” he still had a hand on her shoulder and started to guide her to the exit, right into the arms of her chaperone who was shooting daggers at him but left with the girl nonetheless.
Seongwha didn’t spare them a second glance, but turned on his heels and loosened the rope of his gown while he walked up to his walk-in closet.
“You could get in trouble for this,” Yejun warned while filing her nails.
“Nah, hardly,” he shrugged while he let the robe fall from his shoulders to the floor. He was wearing bespoke dress pants underneath, dark grey with a thin pinstripe. Such a stark contrast with the rest of the boudoir.
“They tend to forget that they don’t actually want a full virgin for their auction. They just want the virgin experience. But that thrill wears off after a few times and then they’ll just desire an educated whore in bed for the amount of money they’d paid for her. They’ll thank me later for it.” Seonghwa had no trouble sending a lamb to the wolves on the floor, but his ego just wouldn’t allow him to send an uneducated lamb out there. It was his reputation after all.
He slipped the fitted suit jacket on. It had a low cut and he wore nothing underneath, revealing his collarbones, the smooth honey skin of his chest and a hint of defined abs. He had a slim and slender build with long, lithe limbs. He loved the androgynous look, but his master would rather see some more muscles on him and was forcing him through a brutal daily routine with a personal gym trainer. Thus the sudden abs. Seonghwa pondered in front of his shoe cabinet while a second girl was brought in. She looked much like the first one, mousy with a shy demeanour, hiding her face behind the long black tresses of her hair . She bowed -perfect pose- and when she raised he caught her siren’s eyes with a gleam of mischief.
“Better,” he complimented the chaperone, who scoffed at the word. “Give her some eyeliner that’ll smudge and a pink lipstick. We have to put on a good show tonight, don’t we, kitten?”
“Yes, Mother,” she piped obediently and with that, the chaperone was ushering her away again, readying her for the scaffold and Seonghwa walked up to the small altar on the corner of his desk, lighting up a candle while murmuring a short prayer. He could never be sure if they would all make it through the night. Toys break and pets get lost. He always prays for them to come back in a next life as something pretty, short lived and fragile: a bee or a butterfly. Something dumb so that their souls could heal, rest and then start fresh after an in-between-life filled with sunshine, colourful flowers and honey.
He looked himself over in the mirror one last time: “Ready?” he asked, while stroking the freshly pressed crease in the trousers.
“Yes, Mother ,” Yejun echoed the other girls and Seonghwa rolled his eyes. She came to stand next to him and looked him over: “You sure about this?”
He ignored the question: “Let’s go.”