Damazonia - ... — -feminized- Natalie Mars- Mistress

Marcus swallowed. “Yes, Mistress.”

Natalie approached Marcus, her bare feet silent on the crimson velvet floor. She smelled of cherry blossom and something more primal—honey and clove. She knelt before him, bringing her face level with his. He flinched. She giggled.

As the doors of the Velvet Gulag closed behind him, Marcus—now wearing Natalie’s lipstick like a medal—walked into the rain. He didn’t feel less like a man. He felt like more of a person . And somewhere in the shadows of the Gulag, Mistress Damazonia poured two glasses of champagne while Natalie Mars curled into her lap, victorious. -Feminized- Natalie Mars- Mistress Damazonia - ...

“See?” Natalie murmured. “It’s not a trap. It’s a question.”

The man who stared back was not Marcus. The jaw was still his, the stubble a dark shadow. But the eyes… the eyes had softened. The posture had tilted. A hip cocked. A shoulder lowered. The fortress hadn't fallen. It had melted. Marcus swallowed

“Mistress,” Natalie purred, her voice a chirp of pure crystal, “you called for the Feminizer?”

“The ego dies not in a roar,” she said, her voice a low seismic rumble, “but in a whisper. You came here to be broken. Instead, you have been filled . Go now. And when you return to your boardroom, remember: the softest thing in the room is always the most dangerous.” She knelt before him, bringing her face level with his

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, her breath warm on his ear. “The pain doesn’t start yet. First, we play dress-up.”