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

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.

She produced a single silk stocking from a garter. Black as a void, sheer as a lie. She rolled it between her fingers. “You think this is weakness. You think lace is surrender. But watch.”

“Mistress,” Natalie purred, her voice a chirp of pure crystal, “you called for the Feminizer?” -Feminized- Natalie Mars- Mistress Damazonia - ...

“You are afraid of small spaces,” Damazonia stated. It was not a question. A datapad hovered beside her throne, displaying his psych profile in glowing blue script. “And you are afraid of silk.”

Mistress Damazonia descended from her throne. She placed a hand the size of a dinner plate on his now-satin-clad shoulder. The man who stared back was not Marcus

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.

A single tear traced down his cheek, smearing Natalie’s kiss into a pink rivulet. It was not a tear of shame. It was the release of a tension he’d been holding since birth. The posture had tilted

Marcus swallowed. “Yes, Mistress.”