Mason was surprised to see a client who was younger than him. He hadn't bothered to dress up for the occasion, and he'd come without Annette. She came on a little strong sometimes. That wouldn't work here.
He looked across at the man, maybe twenty years old? Skinny and small, wearing thick glasses and a nervous expression. His fingers twined around each other as he looked up at him.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said softly.
"If you really don't think this is right for you you're welcome to go. I won't force anything on you, but you're safe here. I'm here to help you in whatever way I can. If you've got another way to get what you want, then feel free." He relaxed in his chair. "Or we can have a drink, and you can tell me what brought you here," he gestured toward a small woman in a slutty maid's outfit holding a tray of drinks. The skinny man nodded and she brought over a drink. He took a brightly coloured cocktail and sipped it, looking around.
"My name's Jerry, Jerry Croft. I've been, I mean," he looked at the ground and Mason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Plenty of clients were like this, but it never got less annoying. "There's someone who's been ruining my life. His name's Pete, and he was my bully in high school. Made my life hell, beat me, bullied me, made sure I didn't have any friends because they didn't want to mess with him. I thought once I graduated, I'd be free of him, but he's in the same university as me and he still goes out of his way to screw with me."
"You understand that's not usually what we do. We cater to a very specific set of urges."
"I want to make him a sissy."
"Oh? Maybe this is the specific set of urges we work with. Do you know what you're asking?"
"Yeah, I want to turn him into a bitch, I want him to be girly and weak and crave cock from wherever he can get it. Just like he always said I was."
"I hope you understand that that's quite the process. This isn't something I'll be able to handle in a few days. It might take months to arrange. I'll do my best to keep him from tormenting you in the intervening time."
"It's fine. I'm taking a semester off anyway. Take all the time you need. I just, want to see it." '
"You will. There is the matter of my fee." The boy nodded and held out a duffel bag full of cash of all denominations. Mason calmly counted it and took his fee from it, pushing the rest back across the table. "And this process might require something from you as well."
"What do you mean?"
"You might have to act on your own behalf. We can't do all the work ourselves. At some point, for the exact results you're looking for, I might need you to do something."
"I'll do it, whatever it is I'll do it. Make him pay."
"By the time I'm finished, you won't recognise him. No one will."
He waited for Croft to leave before he called Annette in from where she was hiding. Her leg was bouncing and she wore a wide grin on her face.
"It's time, it's time it's time it's time!"
"Time for what?"
"Time for me to bring one of my projects out of mothballs and actually use it! Think about it, this kind of thing's going to take serious long term work. We can't do it in house without a kidnapping, which won't make daddy happy and neither of us can do it ourselves. You're another guy, so there's just as much chance that he'll go with you as against you, and we both know I'm not any good for long term work with someone like that. That means our insider's going to have to be one of my projects."
"Oh god, you're all but salivating."
"Whatever. I'm gonna send some of the toys to stake him out and find out what he likes, then," she grinned at him. "Say it."
"I'm not going to say it."
"I'm not gonna do anything until you say it."
"All right, fine," he rolled his eyes, "it's time." Annette let out a laugh that was positively demonic, rubbing her fishnet gloved hands together.
Life was pretty good for Pete O'Shea. His football scholarship was going well, and there were going to be scouts in the audience soon enough, he was sure of it. He had his boys, he was even passing classes somehow.
And then there was her.
Her name was Anna, and she was perfect. Everything about her was a sculpture made from effort and discipline. Her muscles were defined and powerful, her tits were perky and big, her face was pale, kind and inviting. Even her long black hair was his favourite, and not just because it was good for pulling when things got heated.
Even better, she had no concern for the idea of him fucking other women. He was going to do that anyway, but he was glad she was so up front about it. Apparently, she fucked other women too, but that was no big deal, everyone knew girl on girl didn't count.
She looked great on his arm, his friends were either jealous or at least impressed and pretty much everything was going his way. The only weird thing was how goddamn horny he was, it was like being sixteen all over again. Everything got him in the mood and Anna was happy to satisfy him whenever he wanted, so that was fine.
So, when she came to him with the best and scariest question a sexual partner ever asked you he figured it was a natural extension of her being happy to do whatever he liked.
"What's your deepest fetish?" she handed him a beer and he took a sip, the flavour seemed off, but he checked the label and saw that it was one of those weird important beers.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I mean I've got a few. I'm really into the rough stuff, like throwing a chick around, spanking her, beating her, and," he paused. She reached over and put her hands on his thighs, he could feel a hardon growing in his pants before she spoke.
