A New Life Ch. 05

I remember that night I drove myself home from work after getting her phone call filled with humiliating demands and insinuations. I was in an absolute panic. I had no idea if Mistress Sally was serious about all of this, or if she was just playing elaborate games with me. But I honestly feared the worst, and my fears were realized as I pulled into my driveway. I saw the black and white bags as she had described them on the phone. The black one filled with the shampoo and body wash, and the white one for all of my male underwear and socks to be thrown away in.

I parked the car and slowly got out thinking about my options, but I really didn't have any. I took both bags into the house and sat for a moment and starred at them both. I realized then that I did have a choice. That was the only moment I was going to have to make a stand. I could tell her no. I could refuse to play along, as playing along would only get me in deeper trouble. But she had so much already. So many humiliating pictures and all my personal information too, it seemed. I'd be ruined overnight, and there's no telling what damage it would do to my future. I took a breath and stripped, putting my underwear and socks into the white bag and headed upstairs to do the same with what I had in my dresser drawers. I returned to the first floor and placed the bag of underwear next to the front door, as she had instructed then grabbed the black bag and headed back upstairs to take my shower.

I turned the water on to get it nice and hot as I pulled out the bottles of various liquids. The shampoo was indeed floral scented, as was the body wash. But to my surprise, the body wash didn't seem to be a hair remover of any kind. Maybe this was just a little game after all. I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I let out a little chuckle to myself and put the things in the shower and stepped in. The hot water splashed across my body and steamed up the bathroom. I've always loved hot showers and even the occasional bath, so showering with feminine products was hardly something that had to be forced upon me. I started with the body wash and really let it later up. It smelled amazing, and I started to reconsider my objections to aromatherapy. Even with my body hair it felt smooth and slick as I rubbed it over every inch of my body and then washed it away under the jet streams from the shower head.

With that done, I picked up the shampoo and doused my almost shoulder length hair with water. The shampoo also had a pleasant floral scent that I was concerned would be smelled by my so-workers the next day, but it was a small price to pay to keep this amazing woman playing her games with me. I rubbed into my dark brown hair and lathered it up. I could feel my face contort into a smile and I finally began to enjoy myself. Once I was content, I stuck my head back under the shower head to rinse the bubbles away.

I felt good. I felt clean. And I looked down at myself to make sure I hadn't missed any part of my body with a final rinse. And that's when I saw it. My body hair had changed color. It must have happened while I was using the shampoo. Every hair on my chest, arms and legs had turned...pink. And bright pink. I looked like a Carebear if it had been born human. She got me. She tricked me. Mistress Sally had a plan all along and I fell right into it and trusted her once more. There was no way I could go to work with this pink body hair. Even if I could cover up most of it under my clothes for work itself, there would be no way for me to explain it to my friends when we hit the beach or play basketball. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few minutes and finally made the decision I'm sure Mistress Sally was already expecting. I picked up my razor and got back in the shower and shaved myself bare from the neck down.

And now, a year later, I've been made to keep my body hairless. Men have body hair, Mistress tells me. Sissies are lucky they are allowed to have eyebrows. I stood in my bathroom and fixed my lipstick and touched up my eyeshadow and blush after having been made to abuse my nipples by a sadistic man who knew exactly how to find me any time he wanted another show on Skype. I rubbed by aching nipples to try to get a little more blood flowing into them after being clamped for so long, but I didn't have much time before my next Skype director would call. I pulled my bra straps tight to lift my titties a little more. I adjusted the pink seams on my thigh high stockings so they were straight once more. I ran a brush through my now very long hair and took a final breath as I examined the sissy toy in my mirror.

Skype's bells and whistles started up and I returned to my chair in front of my computer and web cam. I felt myself lick my lips as if I was anticipating something, and it made me feel a bit uneasy. I saw the man's screen name as DJ Tuneinator. I felt like it was a play on a movie or something, but had no idea what to expect. I clicked the accept call button and my camera flashed on, and once again, my audience was a blank screen.

"Damn. Kinda a big bitch, aintcha?" he called out.

"Yes sir. If you're not interested, you don't have to go through with the show," I replied, hoping for him to disconnect the call.

"Fuck that. I'm horny. You're here. Get to it!" he yelled back at me.

"Get to what, sir?" I asked, having no idea what was expected of me.

"Yer owner said you was a performer, bitch. Get your ass up and show me your moves!" he said in an almost fun tone.

"You mean dance, sir?" I asked, feeling my eyebrows raise up in nervousness.

"Here, click this link and then get your ass up and show me somethin'!" he said.

I could hear a tinge of frustration and knew I had better stop asking questions. I clicked the link and YouTube popped up. Britney Spears "Work Bitch" appeared on the screen and I could feel my stomach do a backflip. I had heard this song maybe once before. It was fast, and I was going to have to really work to keep up.

"Play the music, bitch!"

I clicked the play button and the music started as I moved my camera to point to a more open area of my room. The electric drum beat started and I tried to walk to my dance floor in time to the beat. Lifting my legs high and letting my high heeled feet hit the floor to the rhythm. I strutted and pranced for a bit until the music reached its opening crescendo and I began to shake my pantied ass and hips back and forth, trying to let the movements wash over me and allow my body to show off its curves.

I tried to emulate some of Britney's moves in the music video that played, but I was woefully short on dancing talent. I moved my legs, hips and ass reasonable well to the beat, but had little idea of what to do with my arms and hands. I grinded during the slow parts and high stepped during the fast parts, all the while trying to keep him interested. He said nothing, so I could only assume he was jerking off. Maybe I'd get lucky and he'd cum after watching me dance to a single song.

I was getting a little out of breath as the song began to wind down. I tried to finish strong on the final note and pose for him. When the song finished, I returned to my chair and reset the web cam.

"Was that ok, sir?" I asked, breathing hard.

"You got the rhythm, but you don't got the moves! Ha ha ha!" he laughed in my face, essentially. "All that booty though...damn! I could get you on a pole and make a dime off ya at the club!"

My eyes opened to the size of saucers. The club? What was this, an audition for him?

"Click this, bitch. You gotta learn to twerk what you got! Guys'll line up to fill yer panties with dollar bills!" he said, laughing under his breath.

I clicked the link and YouTube appeared in my browser again, only this time it was Niki Minaj and Anaconda. I was expected to twerk to this ridiculous song? I wasn't even sure I knew exactly how to twerk.

"Please, sir. I really am not comfortable with this. I'm not very good, as you saw. And I don't really know what twerking is," I pleaded.

"I don't give a fuck what you're comfortable with! You're owner said you was a sissy performer and yer gonna be just that or all the pics she gave me last night is gonna be spread around my website and twitter and I got over a million followers who would love to know who you are and where ya live! Haha!" he taunted. "Now wait one second before ya start. I gotta do something,"

"Yes sir," was all I could say. I had no choice in any of this and I decided I'd simply endure the embarrassment and get through this second of six men who wanted performances from me tonight.

"Alright, dancing queen! Haha! Go ahead and fire up your song and make sure you pull those freaky panties up your ass like a thong for us," he said as he returned to the computer.

"Us, sir?

"Fuck yeah, us! Yer bein' broadcast live in the club, sissy! We got about five hundred people about to watch you twerk yer bitch ass on screens around the club!" he called out.

I then heard a cheer that sounded like a concert audience. He couldn't be serious. Mistress wouldn't allow me to be live streamed like this? Would she?

"Sir, I don't think this is really allowed. This is supposed to be a one on one performance for you," I said calmly, trying to persuade him to either admit the joke, or disconnect the feed to his club.

"I got no time for an uppity bitch! I just posted one of yer pics to my twitter and a million guys and gals are lookin' atcha right now! Next tweet I send's gonna have yer name and phone number on it!" he threatened.

I had no way to know if he was telling the truth, but I couldn't risk it.

"I'm sorry sir. Please give me a moment to set up the camera and play the music for your guests," I said choking down the fear that was welling up in my chest. I heard the cheer of the crowd again as I turned my web cam to the open area of the floor and pressed play.