Slave Master

Stephen's cheeks reddened. It occurred to him that this was the first time Tom had ever tried to make Stephen do something during the day. But that didn't matter now, Stephen was no longer a man and Tom was, so there was no question that Stephen would obey.

Stephen risked one more question. "But how will I explain the change?"

"Tell him it was too dark and you tripped on the way to the bathroom. Tell him it's not bright enough to count the imaginary sheep you count to go to sleep. Or don't tell him anything. After all, he's merely a slave," Tom said sardonically. "What matters is that I want more light in here at night. Right now I can't even see the color of the panties my whore is going to have to take off before I spank her for questioning my orders."

[]

The next night Tom wasn't satisfied with the increase in ambient light Stephen had requested,

saying it was still too dark. However he allowed that as he did not specify an exact level of lighting Stephen would get one more chance before he earned another spanking. Stephen immediately resolved to have the night butler bring the light up a much greater amount.

The following night when Tom arrived he immediately moved to the bedside lamp and turned it off. "Now that's more like it," he said, pleased. "I can see more than shadows."

He turned to Stephen. "The lamp is off now, correct?"

While the ambient lights in the room were not at full brightness Stephen could still see quite clearly. Probably not enough to read a print book, but certainly enough to read Tom's alert expression where he was standing on the other side of the large bed. But Stephen knew that wasn't the question Tom was asking. "Yes, master. The lamp is off."

"Good whore. Show me what you're wearing."

Stephen peeled back the sheets to reveal the pale yellow peignoir and matching panties he'd put on before Tom arrived. Tom shook his head. "No, I think I want you in something a bit sluttier for tonight. All right, show me what you have and I'll tell you what to wear."

Stephen was taken aback. "Master?"

"Don't play coy, whore," Tom warned. "It's obvious you have a stash of female clothing over in the closet somewhere, show it to me."

It felt very strange for Stephen to open the closet and to press his thumb against the lock of the cabinet of secrets while Tom stood right next to him. The door clicked open, revealing the six drawers the cabinet contained.

Tom chuckled. "You own even more girly things than I expected. Well, don't just stand there, whore. I think I want to see you in something black, what are my choices?"

Tom wasn't satisfied with Stephen simply holding up the items of lingerie, he also wanted him to model various pieces for him. It was terribly humiliating for Stephen, having to undress and dress again and again in front of Tom as he watched and made comments.

"Now, this one looks promising," Tom said once Stephen had donned a black lace basque with garters over a black g-string. "Turn around, let me see your behind."

Feeling nonplussed Stephen did as ordered, then looked back at Tom. "Like this?"

Tom chuckled. "You can't help it, can you?"

Stephen was puzzled. "Help what, master?"

"The pose. You just planted one hand on a hip, cocked it and stuck your cute ass right out at me, then you gave me that coy look over your shoulder. Did you even realize you were doing that?"

Stephen hadn't, and feel very embarrassed.

"The blush is a nice touch, too," Tom snorted. "I do wish I'd gotten you to have more light in the room before, I bet I've missed all sorts of interesting expressions. I suspect you can't make up your mind if you're a sweet girl or a slutty one."

"I'm not a girl," Stephen muttered unhappily.

"Close enough for me," Tom said.

[]

Every night after that Tom decided what Stephen would wear in bed. Which is to say, Tom still wanted Stephen to be dressed for him when he arrived, but then he might announce that Stephen was wearing the "wrong" outfit and insist he model different ones for Tom's approval. Sometimes he would say that Stephen deliberately chose the "wrong" outfit, though Stephen could never figure out the rules Tom was using to determine the proper lingerie for the night because they kept changing. As a mistake always earned Stephen a spanking, he suspected Tom was making up rules as he went.

One night when Tom was at the closet picking out lingerie for Stephen to model he started looking speculatively at some of Stephen's male clothing. He took a silk tie off the rack, stroked it. "I think I have a use for this."

Tom's use was to tie Stephen's wrists together behind him after Stephen dressed in the outfit Tom chose. He made Stephen go to his knees there in front of the mirrored closet door and dropped his loincloth. Now Stephen was clad in a red negligee, wrists pinioned so he had to bring Tom off using only lips and tongue, positioned so that Tom could watch him from all sides in the mirrors. And so that Stephen could see himself as well, could see how slutty he looked and acted.

Stephen's ties got used frequently after that for similar purposes. Tom was soon tying Stephen into all sorts of positions, in and out of bed, after which Stephen has to suck him or Tom fucked Stephen up the ass, or both. Stephen ended up having to buy more ties so that he still had some to wear to work. Massage oil often got on them and left stains that couldn't be removed from the expensive silk. Stephen didn't complain about this to Tom, of course.

Aside from the ties Tom also noticed the place Stephen hung his leather belts. These were used as an alternative to the ties for pinioning Stephen limbs, or as a collar around Stephen's neck. They were also quite valuable if Tom wished to give an extra-hard spanking, though he remained very careful not to leave lasting marks. Not that this caution made the whippings hurt less.

[]

"Come into the bathroom with me, whore."

Stephen no longer hesitated when given an order. He'd learned that hesitation always led to punishment. Sometimes Stephen got punished anyway, but following orders was the safer option.

Tom told Stephen to strip down and sit on the edge of the large Roman tub. He opened the under-sink cabinet, coming out with a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. Stephen was a little surprised those were still there, he hadn't shaved with anything but an electric razor since he was dating his first wife.

"I'm tired of you being so hairy. A whore should look nice and clean for her master," Tom said. Then he paused. "There's not enough light in here. If I try shaving you in the dark I'll cut you. Neither of us wants that, whore, correct?"

"Yes, master."

"I'm going to turn on the bathroom lights so I can see to shave. The bedroom lamp is still out, and that's what counts."

Tom looked at Stephen, waiting for him to reply. Stephen swallowed but said nothing. Taking this as agreement Tom turned on the lights, lathered Stephen's arms and carefully began to shave them. Stephen's legs followed next.

Stephen became more nervous and humiliated by what Tom was doing than he had felt for quite a while. His mind ran through excuses he could use the next time he went to his club and changed into shorts to exercise. Medical condition, taking up swimming, new girlfriend who wanted Stephen smooth?

Tom tapped Stephen on the leg, drawing him out of his worried reverie. "Pay attention, whore. I'm going to have you start doing at least part of this in the future so that I don't have all the work."

Stephen realized Tom was in fact doing an expert job. "I don't know if I could do this as well as you can, master."

"Probably not, but you can at least do the easier bits," Tom grunted.

"Where did you learn to do it?"

Tom gave Stephen a long, unreadable look. "In slave school. Where else?"

Stephen felt stupid. "I thought you were trained as a masseur."

"I need to do your butt next. Stand up."

Tom applied more lather and began shaving Stephen's rear cheeks. After a moment he said, "The aptitude tests put me in the body-servant program. Everyone in it learns basic barbering, manicuring, cosmetology, all that sort of thing. And simple massage, of course."

"Why do they teach you all that?"

"You never know if you'll end up serving a man or a woman, so we get both skill sets just in case. Then after you get all the basics you go into specialty training, so you have a primary skill to offer."

"And you wanted to be a masseur."

"Wanted? My highest scores were always in barbering, but they said there was a current demand for massage therapists rather than barbers, so I was slotted into the advanced masseur class," Tom corrected bitterly. It was the most emotion Stephen had ever heard in his voice. "It wasn't as if I had a choice."

Tom ran a washcloth over Stephen's bottom to wipe away hair and lather. "Now, lean forward and spread your buttcheeks apart with your hands, whore."

Stephen did as commanded. Tom's shaving was even more careful now.

"The hair I was most tired of is this part," he commented, voice lighter now, even mocking. "When it brushed against my cock it felt almost like I was fucking another man."

Tom finished the area around Stephen's anus and gave him a slap on the rump. "Though of course we both know that's not the case, don't we, whore? All right, turn around, sit down and spread your legs. I'm going to do my best at shaving those useless danglers of yours."

Despite how delicate Tom was being the way Stephen's testicles were being stroked with a sharp razor was nerve-wracking. Fear made his balls shrink up into his groin.

"It's too hard to get all the hair off this way, you'll have to pick up some depilatory cream at a store," Tom said. "And while you're there you're going to pick up some cosmetics. Now that I can see it, I want your face looking a lot more feminine."

"But I don't know how to put on makeup, master," Stephen protested.

Tom grinned sardonically. "You weren't listening to me, whore. I already said I was trained in cosmetology."

He picked up the dirty towel on the floor, covered with Stephen's removed body hair, and tossed it into the laundry hamper. "And I believe not listening to master just earned you a nice spanking, with a belt."

[]

Stephen's freshly smooth body made wearing male clothes the next day feel strange. Not that it was bad, in fact the new bareness and sensitivity made everything more intense. Stephen thought he felt more alive that usual. But it also constantly reminded Stephen of what he'd become.

Just a few weeks ago whole hours could pass without Stephen thinking about Tom, or lingerie, or what happened when the bedroom lamp was off. Now Stephen couldn't go even five minutes without being reminded of those things.

That night Tom used his beauty skills again, this time on Stephen's haircut. Stephen had wondered why Tom ordered him to stop going to the barber weeks ago, now Stephen found out it was because Tom wanted more length to work with.

To cut hair properly he of course needed the bathroom fully lit. Before turning the lights on he again reminded Stephen that the bedroom lamp is off. Once again Stephen acquiesced.

"I wish you didn't have this widow's peak," Tom commented as he combed and cut. "But at least there's nice body to your hair, and a lot of it for a male your age."

The end result was a bob cut with lots of strands artfully "disarrayed" to draw attention away from Stephen's receding hairline. Stephen's hair now swooped to cover the tips of his ears, another curl swept toward one eyebrow. It's not like any haircut Stephen had ever had before, even in college when his hair was much longer.

Tom looked at him critically. "It will do for now. Perhaps I'll frost the tips or put in some lighter streaks at some point."

Stephen looked at Tom aghast. Then he looked back at himself the mirror again, already trying to think of ways he could explain the new look to his coworkers and peers.

[]

The list of cosmetics Tom demanded Stephen buy was long, so long that he felt too uncomfortable buying them all in one place. Stephen could excuse buying a few articles by claiming his (hypothetical) wife asked him to pick up some things for her, but he can't imagine the store clerks believing that if he tried to purchase the entire A-to-Z assortment of items Tom insisted are needed. So Stephen spread the purchases out over multiple stores in different parts of the city, using his lunch hours and making side trips on the way home from work.

Luckily Tom didn't mind the delay. Apparently he wanted to wait till the weekend anyway.

Friday night Stephen retired early to the bedroom and summoned Tom, just as the masseur had told him to do. He had Stephen shower and put on a simple terrycloth robe, then sat Stephen on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror. Then the artistry started.

Stephen had sometimes seen his first wife and some of his girlfriends doing their makeup, but he'd never really paid close attention. It turned out to be a far more complex task than Stephen ever imagined, using all sorts of specialized tools. Brushes in multiple shapes and sizes, sponges and pads, tweezers, tiny spatulas, some tools Stephen didn't even have a name for. He was amazed that women didn't make a bigger deal about how difficult it was.

There were also multiple layers of different cosmetics involved, and it was taking what seemed to Stephen to be a long time. It was as if Tom was building a new face for Stephen, one that used the old one mostly as a scaffold.

Stephen mentioned this observation to Tom and the masseur gave out a delighted laugh. "No, you're not that ugly. I wouldn't be bothering with you if you were. This first time though I thought I'd see how pretty you can be if I make a serious effort. Meaning we'll be doing this for a while longer yet, so stop fidgeting."

When Tom finished he turned Stephen around and let him see himself in the mirror. Stephen was stunned. It was Stephen's face, but it wasn't Stephen. Between the makeup and the new hairstyle, the face in the mirror was unmistakably female. And not merely female, the new face looked quite pretty, even striking.

"We won't do this every time, it's too much work," Tom said as Stephen stared in the mirror. "I'll teach you how to do your own lipstick and eyeshadow, maybe a little blush. In the bedroom where it's not so bright that ought to look good enough."

Tom's face dropped down so he appeared beside Stephen's in the mirror. "What do you think, whore? Like the way you look now?"

Stephen didn't have to lie or hesitate. "Yes, master. It's beautiful."

Tom snorted "Don't be stupid. You're certainly more appealing now, but you're never going to win any beauty contests. I'd rate you as nice-looking, maybe cute if I'm being generous."

Tom didn't understand, but Stephen doesn't try to correct him. Stephen didn't mean his face was beautiful, he meant the job Tom did was beautiful because it made Stephen look this way.

"It's my true face," Stephen thought. "The one that was always hidden, now I'm seeing it for the first time."

[]

Time passed. Stephen's days, meaning the time from rising till he entered the bedroom for the night, no longer seemed real to him. During those well-lit hours Stephen was an actor on stage, performing the same role of "successful exec" he'd always played, but now he can't help knowing what a poor match the role is for him. Sometimes he can barely believe no one laughs openly at him for pretending to be something he so obviously isn't; other times the falseness and absurdity made Stephen want to scream. It was only by remembering his real life, the one that took place in his bedroom after the lamp was off, that Stephen could bear it.

Though Stephen wore makeup at night, he felt as though he ought to wear it during the day. Then it would be a clown's makeup, since Stephen was playing a part in a daytime comedy show, a hilarious burlesque where Stephen farcically tried to pass himself off as an exec. A master. An actual man.

[]

Stephen was bent over a low-backed chair, one of the pieces of furniture Tom had him order for the bedroom after researching various designs on the Overnet (using Stephen's account) to find ones which would work for binding Stephen in various positions. There's a belt around Stephen's neck with the end fastened to a crossbar of the chair, keeping him from raising his head. Stephen's knees are on the seat and fastened with silk ties to the sides of the chair, while his wrists were similarly tied to the arms of the chair. Stephen was wearing a dark blue bra and garter set with thigh-high stockings, though Tom had him remove the matching panties before he tied Stephen up. As usual now Stephen's face bore eyeshadow and lipstick, the latter quite smudged due to the fact Tom had Stephen suck his prick to stiffness before moving around behind Stephen, where that same organ is now pumping steadily between Stephen's bottom cheeks.

Tonight Tom had been working at Stephen's ass longer than usual, cock rhythmically sliding in and out of Stephen's backdoor as if he'd never stop. While in the past Stephen had reached orgasm any number of times with Tom's cock inside, and while the feeling of his rigid male member piercing Stephen to press on his prostate always feels wonderful, Stephen has never reached the ultimate climax without the assistance of a hand, either Tom's or Stephen's own. Right now though Stephen hoped this was about to change. The prolonged rubbing of his inner surfaces had raised the tension in his balls to the point where Stephen was dripping, right at the edge of cumming despite the fact there was nothing but air touching Stephen's penis.

But as Stephen shuddered towards an ecstatic peak the thrusts that are taking him there slowed and then stopped, drawing an unsatisfied moan from his lips. Tom shifted to a new angle and resumed screwing his whore, but this effort too began to flag. To Stephen's surprise he could feel that Tom's reliably rampant manhood was going flaccid in the middle of the act.

Tom emitted a disapproving grunt and pulled his softening organ free. Stephen felt cool air entering his backside, the prolonged ass-fuck has left him gaped. Next more oil is poured into Stephen's cleft, after which Tom rubbed his shaft up and down against Stephen's anus in preparation for reinsertion. This act too didn't revive Tom's shrinking erection.

"This isn't working," Tom grumbled. He gave one of Stephen's buttocks a sharp little slap, making him yip and wiggle his tail. Tom walked around to Stephen's front to where Stephen could see him. Tom's cock was in his hand, still swollen but now half-limp.

"Open up."

Stephen stared down at Tom's cock, which was pointed at his mouth, and automatically clamped his lips shut. There's no visible foulness, Tom taught Stephen long ago to make himself clean before Tom arrived. But Stephen still knew where it had just been and he was sure there's a musty, rank smell to the organ. It seemed sordid and nasty, Stephen just couldn't bring himself to let the dirty dick in.

"I said open your mouth, slut." Tom's voice was definitely impatient, also a bit angry. Stephen knew he had to obey, but his gorge rose.

"Master, please, I can't," Stephen whined.

Tom grabbed Stephen's hair and used his other hand to rub the moist, shining tool against and between Stephen's lips. He can't get further because Stephen's teeth are clenched tight. The taste is mostly massage oil, thankfully.

Tom withdrew his cock and gave Stephen's head a last, hard shake. "Apparently you're overdue for another lesson, whore."

Stephen knew what was about to happen and braced himself for it, but when the belt began landing on his back, rump and thighs it wasn't long before Stephen was squealing and sobbing. Soon Stephen's willpower was drained and he begged Tom to stop, promised that he'd obey and be good, pleaded to be allowed to suck Tom's cock. Usually that would be enough to end the punishment but tonight Tom continued until Stephen was reduced to inarticulate wails and the occasional groan of "Master!" or "please!"