The first thing the Master did was strip me of all masculinity.

I had gone to the appointment completely shaved and with my nails painted pink, just as we had agreed. He opened the door, closed it when I was inside, and indicated that I should follow him to my room. He didn't look at me at any moment, since dressed as a man I didn't interest him.

"You have your clothes on the bed. Don't bother me until you have them on," he said. He closed the door and left me alone.

The room was painted pink, with curtains and sheets of the same color. Only the white furniture dared to defy the dominant color in that place. The clothes on the bed were, needless to say, pink. I felt bad dressed as a man, partly influenced by the atmosphere, partly by the contempt with which the man had treated me, so I undressed as quickly as I could without even glancing at what would be my new attire.

When I did, I found that it was a ballet dancer's leotard, with a tutu, stockings, and everything. There was a small box with a post-it note that said "Put it on your cock, princess". When I opened the box, I found a pink ball bracelet, which I obediently placed around my balls and penis. The next surprise came when I went to put on the stockings. Far from being pantyhose as I had imagined, they were stockings with a pink lace garter belt. There was no doubt that I was going to be a very particular ballet dancer. I put on the leotard and discovered that the back was a thong and left my ass exposed. Despite everything, the most difficult garment to put on was the one I found at the end. Instead of the typical ballet shoes, the Master had prepared shoes with a heel so high that they forced me to walk on tiptoes. Pink like everything else, they had a strap that wrapped around the ankle and a small lock that hung from it. I put on the shoes and closed the lock. Luckily, the tutu was a tutu, just as I had thought at first.

I left the room walking as best I could and presented myself to the Master.

"Well, well, well... this is another thing. Much better, little whore. Go back to your room and wait for me sitting in front of the mirror."

"Yes, Master."

I endured the torture of walking back on tiptoes through that endless hallway without complaining and appreciated the rest that sitting down brought. Then I saw myself in the mirror. I looked ridiculous and felt ashamed. However, I couldn't help but get an erection. I waited.

The Master entered a few minutes later. He turned the chair I was sitting in and sat on the bed, facing me. He took out a makeup case and began to paint my face. Eyeliner, lipstick, blush... I never thought women wore so many things on their face. When he finished, he got up, went to the closet, and took out a blonde wig with an 80s perm. He put it on my head, adjusted it until it was to his liking, and turned my chair again so I could see myself in the mirror. That wasn't me. It couldn't...