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He is my sissy. My apprentice. The canvas on which I will paint obedience. But he doesn’t quite know it yet. He stands in the hallway, trembling, clutching the thin, pastel cardigan I chose for him. His hair is slicked back in an artificial bob with the ends dyed a pastel pink that catches the light like bruised roses. He looks at me with a mixture of awe and terror, before his eyes dart to the leather cuffs hanging on the coat rack and the polished wooden bench where I will have him sit.
“Welcome, Alex,” I say, edged with authority. I watch the subtle shiver that ripples through his shoulders. He nods and whispers, “Yes, Mistress.” I guide him inside my apartment. The bench is already prepared. An ornate iron frame draped with a black silk sheet and a small brass bowl bearing a single, polished ruby at its center. I instruct him to strip. His hands trembled as he removes each piece of clothing until he stands there completely naked. I hand him a pair of thin lace panties and he looks at me, puzzled. “Put them on,” I say, calmly. “You’re a girl now.”
Continue reading “The canvas on which I will paint obedience.”
