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A bento?

Justine - the persona Justin put on for the dungeon - bit his purple lipstick-stained lips. Of course, Gretchen got him a bento. She was Hui's pet before his, making him her master by proxy if he focused on dynamics. The bespeckled mole girl must have asked Hui for advice on what to bring him. As sweet as that was, she had no business jumping on him at his other job. Especially when he was in uniform and character.

"M-Mistress Justine?" The long fake purple hairs of his wig wafted as the otter turned to the nervous voice. A chipmunk with short brown headfur and thick rim glasses stood before him, hugging himself like a lost child. Justine blinked for a moment, trying to place who the stranger was. Puzzle pieces fell into place as he remembered Noir had brought him over as a client. Now that the sable girl had scooted off with his bento like the maid she pretended to be, the client looked as scared as ever.

"There is none other in this establishment," Justine kept his pitch soft for the illusion of his feminine persona. Not that any of his clients thought he was a woman. He knew what the dungeon advertised him as because he requested it as such. At least one domme there made spiteful comments about how femboys were just a fad. He didn't care. So long as it helped him through college, the otter would ride it out. That and, if he were being honest with himself, there was something fun about being Justine. A different wave of confidence rushed through him as the otter crossed his legs and leaned back into the black chair. "What reason do you have to come and bother me?"

The chipmunk blushed, tongue-tying itself as he tried to speak. Despite his own eye roll, Justine found it cute. Seeing boys fluster underneath his presence, questioning their sexuality. He remembered that struggle, how he felt kissing his best friend. How he felt after fucking her before she came out as trans. If he weren't so loyal to Hui, Justine might consider expanding his harem with a cute boy. "I-I've come for a session. My n-name is...is..."

"Breathe and map your sentence before wasting my time," Justine said. At the chipmunk's cowering the otter sighed and dropped his persona for just a moment. "Relax. We're all adults here." This had to be the chipmunk's first time in a dungeon. The lights playing around the room reflected off his glasses, but what little Justine could see revealed nervous glances at all angles. No doubt he was questioning himself. Part of a pro-dommes job was to help their clients pass that self-doubt. To let them embrace what they want. Kind of like therapy.

With a nod, the chipmunk sucked in air held it, then released. "Sorry, I'm just very nervous. Though I suppose that's obvious. My name is Simon."

"It's ok, Simon. It's only natural," Justine stood up and looked his client over. About the same height, with a collared shirt and khakis. He might be older though, an office worker if Justine had to guess. "Why don't we discuss your session in the playroom? Follow me."

Was Simon his real name? Justine already had clients that gave him fake names, as if he wouldn't see the receipts on their credit cards later. Some paid in cash to avoid such leaks, whether it was out of embarrassment or to keep their loved ones from finding out, the otter didn't know. Hopefully, he'd stop caring about the lies eventually as not everyone could accept their kinks as a part of themselves. He still struggled with it at times, imposter syndrome reared its ugly head whenever Hui or Gretchen initiated something.

Justine had no such problem. His femme persona had confidence, the skill to back it up, and the allure to enthrall. Even as he casually spoke Justine felt he exuded some sort of presence to the chittering chipmunk following behind. "So, what torments do you desire?" he asked.

Unable to look the otter in the eyes, the chipmunk cowed his face and stared at the floor, watching the black boots walk along the padded pavement. "W-Well, I like to be humiliated. N-Not in the penis size sense but like, more generally?"

Justine tried to keep his eyes from rolling. General humiliation was hard enough, without knowing the client it made things nearly impossible. "Narrow it down, will you? I'm not some psychic who can dig into your mind and see all the shameful lusts you carry. What kind of porn do you watch? Do you know the basic safewords of this place?"

"Red to stop, green to keep going, yellow to slow down, right?" He asked, earning a nod from the otter. On the other questions, Simon looked taken aback, as if he hadn't spent his hard-earned money to pay a feminine man to humiliate him. "As for the rest...um..." scratching the back of his head, the chipmunk mumbled something.

"Speak up." Justine's authoritative tone blanketed the creak of the door hinges as they reached the session room. The club had plenty of private rooms, sometimes multiple was filled at once. The walls were thick enough that, if the door were closed, no one could hear what happened from the outside. Inside, however, Justine swore he could hear play from the next rooms over if they got intense enough.

Taking his seat on a black leather throne fit for a queen, Justine crossed his legs and stared down at the chipmunk. "Well? I told you to speak up. I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me."

"S-Sorry," Simon mumbled, "I thought the checklist online was enough." Justine held his exasperated breath. He'd forgotten to look at the checklist the night prior. In his defense, he was studying. Seizing an opportunity, Justine narrowed his gaze as though insulted that Simon gave an excuse. Gulping, the chipmunk continued, "I r-really liked f-forced f-feminization."

Justine tilted his head. Forced feminization from a femboy? Simon must have thought he hit the jackpot. Determined to make sure that was the case, the otter grabbed a riding crop left beside his throne and pointed its flat end to the floor before him. "Kneel," he commanded. Simon started stripping, immediately catching the crop between his hands. "I told you to kneel, not to strip. Good girls follow orders."

Flushed red, the chipmunk kneeled against the rubber-padded floor before Justine. Surveying his immediate surroundings, the otter noted a box of clove cigarettes next to him. He popped one out and took a match from a club-branded matchbox. "So, why should I bother turning you into a pretty girl?" he asked, lighting the match with a quick drag across the red side of the box. He held back his smile at the success on his first try.

Simon hunched his shoulders forward, eyes down as he tried to explain himself. "W-Well I paid you so...I mean, that's how it w-works, right?"

In practice, it was. But Justine had a persona to sell. Bracing his high-heeled leather boots against the chipmunk's chest, the otter tilted his head and said, "Money's all well and good, but I'm not your whore," Even though he very much was by definition, "I'm your goddess, and you paid for my presence. If you want my attention, then you should show some appreciation." Justine tapped his boot against the chipmunk's chin. He didn't want to spell it out, even if some clients were too dense.

Luckily, Simon wasn't. Seeing the leather boots brace his chin, the chipmunk graciously held it in both hands before bringing his lips down against the tip. That would have been all he needed, but Justine's interest perked as he watched his client kiss further up the boot, licking it clean. He wondered if Simon had a foot fetish or a worship fetish as he switched legs, possibly both as Justine braced one boot against the tent in the chipmunk's khakis.

Blowing smoke, Justine smiled with authority. "Alright, you may strip." The chipmunk hastily unbuttoned himself, discarding his clothes into a haphazard pile that Justine could use as a punishment for play. He stopped at his boxers, the tent still strong. "I said strip, darling."

Simon gulped, "I'm sorry, Mistress. It's just...I've never exposed myself to someone before."

A virgin too? Oh, that's just delectable. Or another lie. "And this matters to me because?" Justine asked, keeping his cruel persona at the forefront, "Good girls do as they are told. If I tell you to strip, then you strip."

Gulping, the chipmunk pulled his plaid boxers free, letting his cock slip out into the air. He wasn't the biggest Justine had met, but he was bigger than the otter by an inch. Reflexive jealousy crawled up Justine's spine at the sight of it. He blew it away with a cloud of smoke that washed over Simon. "Head down to the floor. Don't look up until I say." He commanded, getting up to check the chipmunk's clothes as soon as he did so.

Men's sizes, on average, were one and a half bigger than women's. Crossdressers and trans people usually needed to go up or down one size to find clothes that matched. Simon's underwear marked him as a size small, so Justine looked through the costume closet to find a lady's medium in everything he wanted; a black pair of panties, a matching bra, and fishnets. He considered a wig, but foolishly forgot to ask Simon what his preferred hair color was, and didn't know how to ask without breaking character.

"Stand up," Justine ordered. Simon shot up to his feet, staring forward with a rigid back. "Arms out," He set to work locking the bra over his client's chest. He chose a tight bra for flat breasts, better to let the chipmunk feel the fabric against his nipples. Then came the panties, followed by the fishnets. "This right here is undignified," Justine braced the tip of his crop against the cockhead poking out from the panties, "A proper girl under my care would have their clit locked up so as to not stretch the pretty things I gild her with."

"I-I'm not sure about a cage. I've heard they're uncomfortable."

Justine forced the chipmunk back to his knees and held him by his cheeks. "Since when does your comfort matter, Simone?" He snapped, puffing another cloud of smoke over his bitch's face. "A sissy's comfort is thrown by the wayside if their owner says so. If I want you in the tiniest cage I can find, you'll spread your legs and lock it in yourself for me." None of that weakened Simone's erection. Nor did the slaps across his face, which in fact made it stronger. Blushing wide, the chipmunk opened his maw with a pinch from Justine, letting the otter spit in his mouth before using it as an ashtray.

Definitely a masochist, Justine thought.

Gritting his teeth, Justine felt his own cock harden underneath his outfit. Contrary to popular belief, he couldn't actually fuck a client. That would turn everything he'd done into a sex act. The club walked the line on that, making him question if pegging was considered sexual by legal standards with all the strap-ons and dildos they owned. Not that Justine had the luxury of strapping one on to fuck a client. Unless he felt like wearing a cage again.

"No, a good sissy does what she's told without complaint. Purse your lips." Simon did as instructed while Justine pulled out a tube of red lipstick. Nothing fancy, just cheap makeup that'd add to the illusion that he was feminizing the client. Though given how much work he put into his own persona, Justine could do more.

Actually, he wanted to do more. Something about perfectionism made Justine lead his client to a mirror to sit at while he applied makeup. Eye shadow, blush, painting those tiny claws on his hand the sluttiest pink they had. He'd be walking out of the place with some hint of his time there and a hard-on to boot from the added humiliation.

Through it all, Justine belittled Simone, who took to the new name without hesitation. He laid the foundation of a fantasy, letting his client imagine being his working girl. The long nights by the street corners, sucking off stranger after stranger to earn him his money. A lewd little fantasy that needed something to act on.

"Budding whores are willing, but lack the experience," Justine grabbed a small dildo with a suction cup and stuck it to the wall. Dragging Simone to his knees, he pushed the chipmunk's tarted-up face against the purple phallus. "Imagine this as Jimmy, a nervous little loser who's looking to get his dick sucked for the first time. You don't want to let Jimmy down, do you?"

"N-No, Mistress."

Justine playfully smacked the chipmunk's backside with his crop. "Then get to work servicing him, slut. Show little Jimmy why he should come back for more."

For a moment, Simone shivered before the tip. Justine wondered if it was fear that held him back. That question of 'if I do this, there's no turning back' that pops into every guy's head if they suck a dick, even a fake one. Justine had sucked enough to know that he still preferred women, but he'd grown more confident in being bisexual, having his own types and preferences. Simone likely still had to figure it out.

Then he kissed it, and the apprehension vanished.

Greedily the chipmunk suckled the silicon tip. Figuring he needed an extra push, Justine hooked his fingers into the slut's hair and guided him down the rod. "Come on, Simone. Give your client what he wants." He kept a firm grip but never pushed too hard. Gag reflexes were a bitch to work with and the otter doubted Simone removed theirs. Gagging at the halfway part proved it.

"Looks like the eager faggot needs some help," Justine mentally cringed at the slur, but it seemed to keep Simone happy. "Just try to swallow as you go down," He had enough experience sucking big wolverine dick to know a thing or two about overcoming it. "Breathe normally through your nose. Use your tongue to work it into your throat. No teeth, clients hate teeth."

Like a magician, the chipmunk made the toy vanish with Justine's tips. Smiling, he pulled the hungry slut back. "Such a talented fag. Keep it up," Watching him work, Justine crouched down to the bare back of the chipmunk, slowly prodding it with the handle of his riding crop. "Once you're out on the streets, you'll need a mark to prove you belong to me. Collars are only for my top girls, and you'll need to work up to that." Pretending he was holding a tattoo needle, Justine gently jabbed across his client's back. At first, it was random, selling the illusion of the process, but as time went on he started to wonder what his mark would look like. The letter J for his name? A sword? Maybe a heraldic crest of perverse things? Oh, maybe a Slaaneshi mark? It'd work well if he put Simone in more leather. A full-body harness with a tight collar and cuffs for each limb.

Beeping from his timer's alarm broke Justine's trance. Pulling Simone, or Simon now, off the toy, Justine waltzed over to turn the annoying sound off. "And that is time," he said, reaching for a box of kleenexes to start cleaning the playroom. "Did you enjoy yourself?" Justine sure hoped so. Gretchen's stunt from earlier might have shaken off his A-game.

Bashfully blushing, the chipmunk nodded. "Y-Yeah, I did, Mistress." Justine tried not to roll his eyes at the compliment. He knew Simon meant well, or was just buttering him up, but the session was over so they could talk like normal people.

"So...stupid to ask, but," Simon questioned while helping clean the place. He'd yet to remove the makeup or his outfit, something Justine grew cautious of, "Do you, like, do house calls or something?"

"I don't," Justine said, trying not to bend over as he cleaned, "I'm strictly dungeon only."

"So there's like...no chance we could hang out sometime?"

Justine tried not to give Simon a dirty look. He did not for once think Simon wanted to 'hang out' for anything other than a private session, or somehow weasel his way into a free play. But a client was a client, and he could save bitching later with Noir. "I could recommend some other dommes who do shopping sessions with clients, but as I said, I'm strictly dungeon only."

"Think that might change in time?" Simon asked.

"Maybe," Justine lied. Waving him to leave after cleaning up, the otter lounged back into his chair in the main room, trying not to look exhausted. A sable in a maid outfit handed him a bottle of water.

"Creepy client?" Noir asked.

"First time jitters I hope," Justine said. If Simon did become a regular client of his, he hoped he'd be more respectful of the role the otter played after the session ended. Though the chipmunk's question did make him wonder what it'd be like to have a cute boy wearing a tag with his name on it.

Then he laughed. Gretchen and Hui took up enough of his energy. What would he have left for a guy?