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Vesemir sighs heavily. Once again, he is receiving the same news about the same student. It seems that both he and the other instructors have been too lenient, and it is high time to set things straight. The superiority of alphas over omegas must be proven beyond any doubt.
Having made his decision, Vesemir summons his beta servant. She hurriedly appears before him and awaits his command with a nod. At least the betas in this damned fortress know their place—unlike a certain omega.
“Bring Lambert to me, and be quick about it,” the Headmaster’s stern voice rings out in his study.
“Yes, sir,” the beta replies, setting off to carry out the order.
Meanwhile, Vesemir settles comfortably into his chair to meditate and gather the mental strength he will undoubtedly need.
*
Lambert, naturally, comes neither willingly nor in a peaceful mood. His protests and colorful curses can be heard from the far end of the corridor. They grow louder with every step that brings him closer to the massive oak doors behind which Vesemir waits—having just roused himself from a state of meditative focus.
The doors swing wide, and two alpha guards practically shove the red-haired omega inside. With a single wave of his hand, Vesemir signals for them to leave the room; their task is done.
Lambert is seething with rage and the expression on his face is as intense as the deep hue of his thick, red curls.
“What is it this time?” the omega asks, crossing his arms over his chest and spitting out the words with venom in his voice. “I was having such a pleasant day, and now it’s been ruined.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Vesemir replies in a calm, composed tone. “But you forget, boy, that it is not you who dictates the terms here—it is I,” he continues.
Before Lambert can even open his mouth—likely to fire back with another smart-aleck remark—Vesemir strides over, towering over his apprentice, and grips his face, digging his calloused fingers deep into the young man’s cheeks. The youth lets out only a soft, startled gasp, completely thrown off balance by this turn of events.
“You’ve grown far too accustomed to using your tongue for things other than its intended purpose. You mouth off to every trainer at every opportunity and do exactly as you please. But I’ve had enough of that, you brat. It's time to remind you what it means to be an omega,” the Headmaster declares.
Lambert finds the only fitting response to those words—"f-fuck you"—though it lacks the bluntness he likely intended, stifled as it is by the hand clamping ever tighter over his face. Despite being the oldest of the trainers and holding the title of Headmaster, Vesemir retains plenty of vigor and strength; his fingers will undoubtedly leave marks on the omega’s cheeks.
Lambert wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to fight back, even now. He digs his claws into the old alpha’s wrists in an attempt to break free and glares at him furiously. If only he could, he would bare his fangs.
"It’s almost charming that, even now, you have the audacity to think of yourself as something more. Let’s be clear: you will leave this room today exactly as nature programmed you—an obedient omega who knows his place in the hierarchy."
Vesemir speaks with absolute seriousness and his characteristic stoic expression. For Lambert, this signals serious trouble; even he knows when to fear the old alpha and take his words to heart.
Lambert swallows hard. A flash of fear appears in his eyes alongside the burning anger, something that does not escape the Headmaster’s notice. A broad, mocking smile spreads across the alpha’s face. "And now, once I release you, you will strip naked—just as nature made you—and kneel obediently by my chair, waiting for further orders."
The moment Vesemir pulls his hand away, Lambert—acting out of desperation and knowing the fight is lost before it begins—does the only thing that seems right to his primitive omega mind: he spits right in Vesemir’s face.
The Headmaster’s reaction is instantaneous, his hand strikes Lambert across the cheek with a loud crack, leaving a red mark on the pale skin and snapping the younger man’s head to the side.
The elder alpha, however, gives Lambert no time to process the situation. He seizes him by the scruff of the neck so forcefully that the boy’s legs give way, dropping him to his knees before his mentor. It could have been handled without resorting to force, but since Lambert wants to play rough, Vesemir is more than happy to oblige.
Grasping omegas by the scruff is common practice, though ordinary alpha trainees usually only earn the right to do so during their final years of training.
“Kaer Morhen is renowned for the finest training of omegas and alphas on the entire Continent, and you will not ruin that reputation simply because you’ve got it into your head that omegas and alphas are equals. And look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Vesemir commands, his tone remaining calm and composed.
This time, however, he decides to unleash his dominant alpha pheromones. He occasionally encounters unruly students, but none have been quite as brazen as Lambert.
Lambert struggles to lift his gaze. His eyes are clouded and vacant, his body heavy and limp—signs that Vesemir has completely subjugated him.
“That’s better. Now, take off your clothes,” Vesemir commands, issuing one instruction after another. Lambert strains to raise his arms to remove his shirt; his movements are clumsy, his fingers stiff and uncooperative, forcing him to make repeated attempts to undo the buttons. All the while, he remains in Vesemir’s firm grip—held by the scruff of the neck like a disobedient cur—as an invisible aura of dominance imposes itself upon the boy’s mind and body.
Vesemir is in no rush, though; Lambert has missed many lessons, so it is high time for a private session with the Headmaster.
As Lambert’s shirt falls to the floor, the lad is panting heavily, as if he had circled the castle grounds twice.
“Trousers and undergarments, too,” Vesemir reminds his apprentice. This time, undoing the button and fly goes more smoothly. Once that is done, Lambert slides the rest of his clothing down his thighs until it gathers around the knees upon which he is kneeling.
Deeming this sufficient, Vesemir grips Lambert more firmly by the back of the neck, digging his claws into the scent gland and forcing him to bend low. Lambert’s cheek presses against the rug adorning the Headmaster’s chamber. The young omega lets out a soft moan at this display of dominance. While his torso remains close to the floor, his buttocks are thrust high into the air.
Vesemir lets go of him and stands right behind the presenting omega. It is not the ideal presenting position for baring oneself to alphas—the boy’s body trembles and doesn’t form that beautiful arch meant to arouse alphas. But for now, it has to be enough.
Vesemir, however, does not miss the chance to comment on it aloud. "We need to work on your presenting position, boy. Look at the gaps in your education caused by skipping lessons. It is a disgrace for an omega."
And a disgrace to the school’s reputation, though Vesemir keeps that thought to himself, sighing heavily. Stricter discipline is needed here for everyone, the teachers included.
As the old man’s words reach Lambert’s ears, the boy lets out a soft, humiliated sob. And rightly so, perhaps something will finally get through to that foolish little omega head of his.
Meanwhile, Vesemir proceeds to quickly inspect Lambert’s lower body. Fine hair is visible around his intimate areas—a sign that Lambert is either slacking off on shaving or doing it less frequently than recommended. Vesemir clicks his tongue in disapproval, muttering under his breath, "Hairy pussy—not good."
Lambert merely whimpers softly, humiliated and defenseless, like wounded prey facing a wolf.
How on earth does Lambert manage to get through random omega inspections in the corridors? Vesemir has no idea. He needs to discuss this matter with the other instructors. It is time to introduce mandatory inspections of omegas' intimate areas before every class, rather than relying on sporadic checks. Both the anus and the vagina must be impeccably smooth and soft to ensure the alphas' pleasure during the act.
At least his cock cage appears undisturbed. The omega’s cocklet rests neatly against the metal bars. Only the best omegas have the chance to spend a single day a year without the cage. For the rest, the cages are removed only briefly and solely for urination by the beta servants on duty in the restrooms.
Vesemir leans down to gently run his fingers over Lambert’s labia, all the way to his anus. As his fingertips touch the sensitive skin, Lambert’s body jerks sharply, as if he hasn’t been touched by his superiors in a long time. Which only reinforces Vesemir's conviction that Lambert is somehow evading supervisions.
“It has to be perfectly smooth, boy,” he scolds. “You’ll come back here first thing tomorrow morning with a razor, and I’ll personally ensure not a single hair remains on your cunt. Careless omegas don’t get breakfast. Understood?”
When Lambert gives no verbal response, and the only sound coming from him is ragged breathing, Vesemir gives a sharp yank to the metal cock cage attached to the boy’s member, wringing a groan of pain from him as the metal rod digs deeper into his urethra.
“I don’t hear an acknowledgment of the order,” Vesemir demands.
“Y-yes, Alpha,” the young omega stammers.
“That’s better,” Vesemir praises. Then, he reaches down and, with a swift motion, pulls a wooden plug from the apprentice’s hole. It isn't as thick or long as a real penis, but it serves several functions. This conditions omegas to ensure their cunts are never empty—after all, that is not what they were made for—keeping them suitably relaxed yet tight enough for their walls to grip an alpha’s cock like a well-fitted glove.
It also provides constant training for the pelvic floor muscles, which will help squeeze every last drop of semen out of the alpha when actual sex takes place.
And, perhaps most importantly, it ensures the foolish idea of masturbating with their own fingers never even crosses their mind. An omega’s pussy belongs to the alphas and it is their superiors who decide when an omega has earned a real cock and a shot of alpha's come straight into their womb.
"You won't be needing that for the next few hours. Only good, obedient omegas deserve to have their pussies filled."
Now freed from the plug, Lambert’s pussy quivers like a butterfly’s wings in the breeze. It is slick with lubricant and natural mucus, slightly slack—exactly as it should be. It looks amazing and smells just as exquisite, like the virgin that all omegas remain until they leave the academy. No self-respecting alpha wants a used omega.
Of course, this does not mean that the omegas are not taught the mechanics of intercourse. In the final stage of training, they undergo sessions involving manual vaginal stimulation—under the supervision of assistants—as well as sexual encounters with machines. After all, they must familiarize themselves with what will be their daily reality for the rest of their lives.
Naturally, every precaution is taken to ensure their hymens remain intact.
If only Lambert were in the final stage of his training, Vesemir would gladly hook him up to one of the sex machines for the entire day, feasting his eyes on the sight and savoring what would surely be the sluttiest moans he had ever heard. Lambert might do whatever he can so as not to accept his destiny, but deep down, he’s a slut just like any other omega. He just needs to be made to realize it.
Vesemir places the wooden stake, completely wet and dripping with fluids, on the desk and walks around the piece of furniture to sit comfortably in the chair.
“Now, crawl over to the chair, just as I instructed earlier.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the apprentice replies immediately—a small success in itself. He then struggles to rise onto all fours and shifts his limbs one by one, moving clumsily.
Vesemir unfastens his trousers and frees his cock—already hard, though not yet fully engorged. He boasts an impressive size; inwardly, he acknowledges it as the perfect tool for subduing unruly omegas. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip.
“Step closer, boy, the sight of a cock shouldn’t be anything new to you,” Vesemir urges. Lambert moves closer.
“That’s right. Legs wide, hands behind your back... sitting nicely,” the older man praises him again. For a hopeless student, Lambert is actually quite good at following orders.
“Look at me and open your mouth.” Lambert obeys. His gaze lands somewhere around Vesemir’s chin instead of meeting his eyes, but it’s progress nonetheless. He parts his lips, creating a narrow opening.
Vesemir reaches out toward his apprentice, causing Lambert to flinch instinctively—likely fearing another blow. As Vesemir’s hand rests against the omega’s face, Lambert swallows hard, his body tense and his eyes dart about uncertainly.
The Headmaster first strokes the cheek—reddened from the earlier strike—with gentle, soothing motions, then shifts his fingers to massage the tense masseter muscles to loosen the jaw. “You need to relax your jaw for oral sex.”
After several repeated moves, Lambert’s mouth gradually begins to open wider.
“After all these years at our school, you should know by now how wide to open your mouth. Don’t they teach you how to do blowjobs?” Vesemir asks, though he expects no answer. Instead, he moves his hand again—this time tracing his fingers along Lambert’s jawline to his chin—before finally sliding his thumb into his charge’s mouth and pressing down, forcing it open as wide as possible.
Lambert groans in discomfort.
“Now stick out your tongue; let me see that wretched maw of yours in all its glory. Let it do what it was made for.”
Knowing there is no escape from this situation, Lambert slowly extends his tongue. It is warm and pink, perfectly yielding—ready for Vesemir to rest his big dick upon it.
Vesemir grips his cock and taps it a few times against that delicate organ. Lambert frowns at the crude gesture; Vesemir’s cock is heavy and massive. Beads of pre-cum splatter onto the surrounding teeth, the roof of his mouth, and even his lip, adding a raw, erotic edge to the sight.
“Oh yes, look at you, boy... such a good omega.”
The boy’s cheeks flush with shame. Yet, Vesemir gives him no moment to process his emotions or grasp the situation he is in. Instead, he unleashes his dominant alpha pheromones once more and issues a command: “Suck.”
Lambert lets out a pitiful, soft whimper, and his eyes fill with moisture, as if Vesemir’s orders were a grievance rather than a favor. Omegas know so little about life; without alphas, they wouldn't even know their true role in society. Even so, Lambert closes his lips around the tip of the bare, fluid-slicked dick and begins to suck.
With every movement of Lambert’s mouth, the cock hardens further, his knot slowly swells with blood. Vesemir shifts his hips slightly, sliding deeper—again and again—into that warm, pleasantly moist interior.
“So what were those foolish protests for, when you have such a natural talent, boy?” Vesemir praises him, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the sensation of sucking out his pre-cum. At these words, a slight grimace twists the omega’s face, though it vanishes just as quickly when Vesemir moves his hand to grip the back of Lambert’s neck once more.
This allows him to better maneuver Lambert’s head, pressing it closer to his body and effectively forcing the boy to take more of his cock into his mouth and rests his big, hairy balls on Lambert’s smooth, shaved chin.
“Deeper. Just like that.” Vesemir sighs as he feels the tip of his penis touch the back of his student’s throat, triggering a gag reflex and causing Lambert to gasp for air. In a moment of rising panic, Lambert grabs Vesemir’s knees as if to push him away, forgetting that well-trained omegas keep their hands clasped behind their backs.
Distracted, Lambert tightens his mouth slightly, grazing the sensitive flesh resting on his tongue with his teeth. Vesemir hisses softly in discomfort and tightens his grip on Lambert’s hair, signaling him not to bare his teeth.
“Easy now. If you’d paid attention in your own lessons instead of sneaking into the Alphas’ classes, you’d know how to pleasure your betters with your mouth,” Vesemir instructs, pressing Lambert’s head against his body and savoring the sounds of the omega gagging, as well as the way the boy’s panicked throat tightens around his cock.
He holds him in that position until Lambert’s body grows accustomed to the oral penetration and his hands—letting go of Vesemir’s knees—drop limply to his sides.
Sensing that Lambert is on the verge of losing consciousness, Vesemir grabs him by his thick red curls and slides his head off his penis. It leaves Lambert’s mouth with a loud, wet smack, coated in the saliva that had pooled there and the pre-come he hadn't yet managed to swallow.
The raunchy, warm mixture then slides down his chin, eliciting a sound of delight from Vesemir.
When his airways clear for a brief moment, Lambert gasps greedily for air. His eyes glaze over with tears that slowly trickle down his flushed, blotchy face; a trail of snot has gathered beneath his nose.
“Wonderful… you’re finally starting to look like a proper omega—face wrecked, kneeling between an alpha’s legs.” Vesemir speaks the words aloud, knowing full well how much the young man loathes being reminded of his nature.
Looking straight into the omega’s tear-filled eyes, Vesemir reaches for a cloth to wipe Lambert’s nose and says calmly, “And now, you’re going to be a good boy and start moving your head up and down on my cock, taking it as deep as I just showed you.”
Lambert coughs, trying to rid himself of the lingering, almost tangible sensation in his throat following the sudden, deep penetration he had just endured.
Vesemir gives him no time to recover; placing a hand on the omega’s nape once more—a reminder of what awaits him if he doesn't start listening—he issues the command: "Now, boy."
Had Lambert hesitated to carry out the task, Vesemir would have forced him without a second thought—though he derives greater satisfaction when omegas willingly do what nature created them to do.
Wasting not a moment, and eager to end this torment as quickly as possible, Lambert lets out a helpless cry and closes his mouth once more around the erection standing proudly right before his face. Vesemir studies his charge for a moment, watching as, with every movement of his head, his cock disappears deeper into the velvety walls of the waiting hole.
Yes, an omega’s mouth is a hollow, receptive space—made specifically to be filled by an alpha’s cock.
Lambert closes his eyes, unwilling to look at his teacher’s satisfied face. Vesemir grants him that small mercy for the moment. His poor omega brain is on the verge of overload due to the sheer volume of knowledge and sensations he has been subjected to today. Next time, he won't be so lenient.
Vesemir, for his part, cannot tear his gaze away from that same insolent Lambert—who is now bobbing his head, sucking like a submissive omega craving the taste of alpha’s cum, obediently tightening his throat whenever Vesemir’s cock thrusts deep enough. He manages it without much trouble or the gag reflex, which has become increasingly rare; Vesemir is actually proud of his apprentice.
Saliva, no longer contained within the omega’s mouth, spills from the corners of his lips and trickles down the cock filling his mouth, amplifying the wet, slurping sounds that echo through the room. It pools around Vesemir’s already half-formed knot.
Another moment, and the old alpha feels it swelling to its full size.
Lambert’s mouth and throat are a treasure. If his upper hole is this pleasurable, Vesemir can only imagine the sensations his ass and pussy could provide. He can practically smell it in the air: subjecting Lambert to discipline—and leaving the hole-plug out—has made the scent of his wet pussy far more intense. He must be dripping with juices right now. And to think that’s the effect alpha’s dominance has on omegas.
It is tempting to keep Lambert all to himself—to put a stop to his academic studies and chain him to the Headmaster’s bed to fuck him whenever he feels like it, or to tie him to his desk so he can suck him off daily.
And that thought brings Vesemir to orgasm. Clutching his apprentice’s thick, red curls—hard enough to hear a hiss of pain from between his legs—Vesemir pulls Lambert away from his hard cock, eliciting a sound of surprise from the younger man.
And holding his head right beneath his balls, he quickly strokes his erection to finally spurt jets of semen straight onto Lambert's face and hair.
"Open your eyes, boy, and let me see a good omega. Just like that," Vesemir says, his voice slightly ragged. And as Lambert opens his eyes, Vesemir wipes away the tears beneath them, smearing his own warm cum across his ward's cheek.
"Beautiful," the Headmaster praises again.
Lambert sobs again, utterly humiliated, sitting almost naked between his teacher’s legs, with semen on his face and its taste in his mouth. His throat feels like sandpaper and his empty pussy is dripping with mucus that pools underneath him.
“Now boy, you're going to lick my cock clean, slurp your pussy juices off my carpet, and keep my cock warm in your slutty mouth until dinner.” Vesemir issues a final order and returns to the stack of papers cluttering his desk, fully aware of the slightest movement the boy makes.
A great deal of work lies ahead of him—work that will surely be made more enjoyable by his current favorite pupil.
Taming and teaching Lambert what it means to be a good omega is so satisfying.