Every pore in my face was awarethat my gender was changing magically.Even my hair seemed to have feeling all the way through to theends of the curls M...stress placed there with a curling iron. Asshe formed each section of curls, the iron burned hot on myscalp. It tugged relentlessly as she wound the strands of hairaround it, bringing it tight to my head. Mistress knew I likedthe feeling of the iron, so she twisted it slowly and forcefullyon each curl, dwelling on the process and solidifying. Her blousewas a simple sleeveless thing designed to play off of the regalslenderness of her arms and to draw attention to the radiant glow ofher perfectly painted nails. Okay, so maybe it was a little high classfor this sort of event, but goddamn she made it work. When it comes tosexy, there's nothing wrong with standing out from the crowd.He, by contrast, was wearing a polo, some slacks and a pair of runningshoes. Not the worst thing you could wear, but it made him look like hehad no clue what. More

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