Silken Detour

We both lean in at the same time. Carefully our lips meet, soft, tentative, almost too. It is a dry, polite peck with closed mouths. There is no spark. No passion. No fluttering of butterflies in my stomach. We pull back an inch, giggling quietly, the wine still in our system making the awkwardness feel funny instead of wrong.

"Like... this?" Kyle asks, voice demure in asking. He tries again, pressing his lips to mine a second time. Still stiff with the same unsureness. It is only mildly better than the first, but still simply the touching of lips with no real feeling behind it.

I shake my head gently, smiling against his mouth. "Not quite. Here... let me show you."

I cup the side of his face with one hand, thumb stroking his cheek. This time I keep it light and slow with just a gentle press, lips parted only a fraction, letting them mold together for a few seconds longer. I pull back slightly, then lean in again, adding a tiny bit more pressure, testing the angle. Kyle mirrors me, and the kiss starts to feel warmer, less clinical.

"Better?" I whisper against his lips.

He nods, eyes half-lidded. "Yeah... warmer."

We try a third time. I tilt my head a little, letting our lips slot together more naturally. This one lingers. I brush my lower lip against his upper one, then reverse it, slow and exploratory. Kyle's breath catches, copying the motion and for the first time there is a tiny flicker of heat between us. We stay like that for several seconds, testing the feel of each other's mouths, the alcohol making every small movement feel electric and safe at the same time under the blanket's cover.

"See?" I murmur, pulling back just enough to speak. "You're already getting it."

Kyle's eyes are darker now, pupils wide. "Is that how you kissed?" his voice questioning, wanting to feel the same electricity that arced between me and my crush. My lovely Hannah.

I shake my head before I lean in slowly, lips parting and press against him with intention. My tongue slips out first, gently tracing the seam of his lips, prodding against them, asking for entry. Kyle opens for me with a soft surprised sound. My tongue slides inside, meeting his. It's warm, wet and inexperienced. I wrap around it gently, coaxing him to move with me. Our lips lock properly now, deeper and wetter. Tongues slide back and forth in a slow, sensual rhythm, tasting the faint trace of wine. The kiss grows heated, natural and the awkward testing melts away as instinct takes over.

A needy little whimper escapes Kyle's throat. His body responds instantly, his hips start grinding forward, pressing against my thigh in shallow, eager rolls. His hand exploring my curves, travelling across my hips, my stomach, finally nestling on the swell of my chest. His touch feels wonderful, dangerousöy so. It squeezes its softness, my sensitive flesh awakening under his fingers. Tremors reverberating from Kyle's gentle grasp of it. A sensation like nothing else. Gasping I press my mouth against his harder with invigorated passion. My own hand finding his chest, fingers clamping on his hardened nipple to Kyle's soft grunt. My hips gyrating in the air as Kyle grinds against my legs, massaging my breast. Tongues exploring each other fully between shallow breaths, whimpers and soft moans.

Then he gasps sharply and pulls back, breaking the kiss with a wince of discomfort. His face twists, half pleasure, half pain.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concern seeping into my words, my hand still resting on his chest. My own lips feel swollen and glossy from the make-out.

Kyle's breathing is ragged. He hesitates for only a second before reaching down under the covers. Moving it to uncover us. Naked except for the panties we changed into to sleep in. With trembling fingers he tugs the waistband of his white lace panties downward just enough to reveal the secret underneath.

There, locked tightly around his small, shrunken cock, is something I am very familiar with. A flat pink metal chastity cage. The exact same model as the one I am wearing. The smooth, shiny pink metal sits flush against his body, completely flattening him, leaving almost no bulge at all, still it's showing more than my own. His balls are pulled up snugly behind the cage, shrunken, trapped and denied any real relief. The flat design makes him look even more feminine and helpless, turning his excitement into nothing more than frustrating pressure against unyielding metal.

Kyle's voice comes out shaky and embarrassed as he shows me. "This... it's been on for a couple of weeks now." He swallows hard, eyes glassy with a mix of shame and arousal. "Every time I get excited, it hurts like this."

He leaves the panties pulled down just enough for me to see the full humiliating truth, his flat pink cage pressed tight while his hips still twitch with leftover need from the deep kisses we just shared.

The reason for my own cage coming back to haunt me. "Are you having problems with... concentration?"

"No, nothing like that." Kyle shyes away. "It's less complicated than that."

"Then why are you locked?" I ask, seeing no other reason than my own problem.

"I'm a Beta. I shouldn't." Kyle whispers. "Pussy is not for me." His face contorts, I know the feeling all too well. That insistent ache. "Not being able to... to get hard. It makes sure I don't get the wrong ideas."

Pussy is not for me. His words echoing in my head. Shame over my own cage standing in the way of me feeling a woman's warmth comes flooding over me. The room feels even warmer now, the rain outside a distant whisper compared to the heavy, intimate silence between us. Kyle looks up at me, vulnerable and exposed, waiting for my reaction. Part terrified and part hopeful that I won't pull away.

Kyle's head tilts away to hide is shame. "You think it's stupid, don't you?"

I reach out to touch him, beckoning him back from whatever steep fall he's looking down at from behind those eyes. Pulling him closer to me.

"I don't." I assure, lips locking swiftly with his again. Coaxing him back to brighter sensations than manifested self doubts. A split second decision has me reaching between my legs and pull my simple pair of pink cotton thong panties aside. Revealing my utmost intimate secret. One eclipsing even my panties. My own chastity cage. "I... I have a problem." I sigh. "This helps." my words hurt to even utter. Baring myself for scrutiny. Naked not just in body, but spirit. Kyle looks at it, reverent and adoringly. Like there is some underlying respect that he has for it which he does not want to share.

"It looks beautiful on you." Kyle's voice is raspy, fighting to hold back his own emotions. I am a bit taken aback that my acceptance of him hits him this hard. He embraces me and I him. His tongue prodding carefully at my lips and I let him in. His soft demeanor does not give the impression that it's a man I'm kissing. His movements are tender, smooth and careful. Not rugged like a man's need. Much more akin to how it felt kissing Hannah than I imagined when I agreed to lend Kyle my basic experience. When our kiss breaks we stay staring into each other's eyes. Kyle looks so feminine, pretty even. Until the energy breaks into light hearted giggling. "We should sleep." Kyle whispers and I nod. "Good night." I whisper back.

The room grows quiet, the rain outside reduced to a soft, steady patter against the window cradling Kyle into slumber. His breathing slows into the deep, even rhythm of sleep. He lies curled on his side facing me, one arm loosely draped across the pillow, his face soft and relaxed in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. The joint warmth generated by our bodies has had him draw the duvet down in his sleep. His small chest rises and falls gently, his conical areolas bearing puffed nipples soft now in rest.

I watch him for minutes, lips still tingling from the kiss and the vulnerable confession when I watch his breathing. Then a slow, mischievous smile creeps across my lips.

Payback time.

Quietly I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. Tip toeing over to my bag I pull out the makeup I brought for this very occasion; eyeshadow, mascara, and a tube of liquid glossy lipstick. A perfect assembly of tools for my revenge. Creeping back to the bed like the mischievous artist of destruction I am, I kneel beside Kyle's sleeping face. With gentle but unsteady fingers I begin to work.

First the eyeshadow; a shimmery pink on the lid, darker plum in the crease. I'm not skilled, so the blending comes out patchy and harsh. Painting uneven eyeliner wings. Next comes the mascara, thick black coats on his lashes, some of it clumping because I don't know how to separate them properly. Finally, the liquid lipstick, a playful glossy cotton candy pink that I paint across his lips, the edges slightly wobbly and a little too far outside his natural lip line.

When I am done, I sit back on my heels and admire my clumsy handiwork. Kyle looks kind of like a teenage girl who let a friend experiment with make-up stolen from her mother or an elder sister; overdone, messy and inexperienced. Satisfied with my petty revenge I wipe my hands, slip back under the covers and let sleep claim me with a smug little grin.

Morning light filters through the curtains, sweeping the night's drizzle away. I wake first, blinking awake to find Kyle still asleep beside me, his face now fully illuminated. The makeup looks even more ridiculous in daylight. A stark contrast to the beautiful face I was given by someone.

Kyle stirs a moment later. He yawns, stretches and sits up slowly. The duvet slips down to his waist, leaving him in just the panties he slept in. "Morning." he says, climbing out of bed without lingering. Walking past his mirror he does a double take.

"What the...?" The moment he sees his reflection his shoulders sloops. He doesn't look angry exactly, just deeply disappointed. He turns back to me, lips pursed.

"Taylor..." he says, voice flat, but not truly upset. "You did this while I was sleeping?"

"Aaaaah, you weren't supposed to find out yet." I drawl. My disappointed tone shifting into manic giggling "Payback for not telling me."

Kyle sighs, touching the messy eyeshadow with a fingertip "This is terrible."

"Nobody has even seen you yet." I huff. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Kyle exclaims. His chest puffing up like I just offended his mother "You bitch. You were gonna let me walk around like this? Look at it. It's so poorly done. Look at this blending, it's a crime. The mascara is clumped and what even is this lip tracing?!" He shakes his head, a small smile finally breaking through. "If you're going to slut me up, at least do it right." he cocks his hip, waving a finger sassily.

He walks over to his desk, swabbing his face with tissues coated with something from a bottle, then gestures to the chair by his desk and pats the seat. "Come here. Sit down."

"Why?" I ask tentatively, taking a step back. My prank seemingly coming back to bite me in an instant.

"I'm going to show you how it's actually done."

My hands are searching for something, finding nothing to occupy them or hold between us when wearing only panties. "I don't know."

Kyle is giddy, not bothering with my hesitation "Please, please, please, please. It's just us." he says, bouncing.

I hesitate for a while longer before submitting myself to Kyle's Beta antics. His eagerness to prove something is kind of cute to be honest. The dancing yesterday, while nervous and awkward at first before trusting the process and simply letting loose, was the most fun I have had in a while and he's right. It's only us.

Kyle stands behind me, now fully awake and in his element. Gathering the makeup supplies with practiced confidence. "Listen bitch." he says, a mocked diva harshness with instructional clang as he tilts my chin up. "Always start with a clean, moisturized face. But we'll skip that today." He begins with foundation, dabbing and blending it seamlessly with a sponge, explaining each step in a gentle, almost soothing tone. "This evens everything out... makes the canvas perfect."

Next come the eyes. Kyle works with focus, layering a soft neutral base, then a dramatic smoky black shimmering gold on the lids. He blends meticulously, using brushes I didn't even know the purpose of. "Heavy on the outer corner for that sultry look... see how it makes the eyes pop?"

Mascara comes next, long, slow strokes that lengthen and thicken my lashes without a single clump. "Look up... now down...." Finally, the lips. Kyle chooses a deep, glossy pink cotton candy colour that simply pops, much glossier and wetter-looking than the one I used on him. He lines them first, then fills them in with the liquid lipstick, making sure the color is sharp and the shine obscene.

"Pout for me... yes, just like that." When he steps back, turning me towards the mirror I stare at my reflection and barely recognize myself. The makeup is heavy and unapologetically raunchy. Pornstar is the only thing that comes to mind. Much more obscene than the face I carried for a whole day earlier. My eyes look enormous, dark, smoky and seductive with long fluttery lashes that pull the onlooker with every blink. The glossy pink lips are plump, shiny and impossibly inviting, the wet shine drawing every bit of attention straight to my mouth. They look swollen even, parted slightly, whether from disbelief or instinct to open when suggested I'm unsure of.

Baring the hints of male proportions of my body I look like an innocent girl turned total slut. Kyle stands behind me, hands resting lightly on my shoulders as we both admire the finished look in the mirror. His own face is still bare, but his eyes sparkle with pride at his work.

"See?" he murmurs, voice low and warm. "That's how it's done. Tell me this isn't art." He leans down, resting his chin on my shoulder. Our reflections stare back at us, me fully made-up like a high-end whore, him still soft and natural, yet still has a cute aura about him.

"So... what do you think, Taylor?" Kyle asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Feel like practicing on me, or should we go show Marcus my latest creation?"

He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze, waiting for my answer while my shiny, cock-hungry lips glisten in the morning light. The chastity cage under his panties is no doubt twitching again at the sight of me and the apartment is still quiet, having me wonder if Marcus is up yet and the feeling of letting someone other than Kyle see me like this comes seeping into me. Utterly embarrassing to be made up like a girl, a harlot, yet so eerily exciting that I can barely hold back against the shivers. My eyes casting to Kyle's face, it would stand out less if we were both fixed, giving the option of playing it off as a joke between friends if Marcus' reaction to it becomes too much to handle. "Lets do you." I answer meekly.

With Kyle's guidance and choice of colours the results I manage are astronomically better. Good even if I may say so myself. Theme running in crimson red, sultry in comparison to my Barbie slut look.

Throwing me a t-shirt that reaches down past my crotch, undoubtedly belonging to Marcus we head out. It only feels slightly weird when we go to have breakfast with both of us being made-up. Kyle doesn't halter when we spot Marcus already up, pad in hand on the couch, doodling.
"Morning." I say shyly, the confidence of yesterday's performance whisked away by slumber's sobering embrace.

Kyle quickly shoos me away from the kitchen when I follow him "I got this."

Without being allowed to help I desperately seek something in the silence that only emphasises the fact that I am wearing a lot of make-up and that no one seems to bat an eye at it. Like it's the most normal thing ever. Unsure of whether it's soothing or heightening the humiliation of it. An effect similar to, but not as strong as wearing panties the first times until it became the new normal. I can't deny that I love the thrill of it.

Sitting down beside Marcus I lean in towards him, hoping to get a glimpse of what he is up to. "Whatcha doing?"

"Editing some photos I've taken." Marcus answers without looking up, forehead wrinkling in concentration.

"He's really good!" Kyle calls from the kitchen.

I lean further in "Are you? Could you show me?"

Marcus leans back, turning the pad towards me, pen spinning between his fingers. I scroll slowly through his gallery. The photos were stunning crisp professional shots of misty forests at dawn, golden-hour landscapes, close-ups of birds in flight with every feather razor-sharp and intimate portraits of wildlife; a fox mid-stride, deer grazing at the edge of a meadow. The lighting, composition and detail were all impeccable. It was clear he had real talent.

"These are beautiful." I say honestly, genuinely impressed as he lets me scroll through his gallery "You've got an eye for this."

Marcus gave a modest shrug, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Thanks. It's just a hobby, but I take it seriously." Nodding understanding I continue scrolling through the pictures, all family friendly nature shots, until they suddenly aren't. Women. Gorgeous women posed in tantalising positions. Half naked, yet retaining that artistic flair that keeps it from being merely pornographic.

Kyle finishes plating the breakfast and brings everything over. He lean over my shoulder to look too. "See? Told you he's good." Then, with a shy but excited smile, he adds, "Marcus... maybe we could do a little photo shoot? With us? After breakfast? You could help direct and take some pictures. What do you say?"

I don't get a word in before Marcus speaks. "Yeah, I can help with that. But you two will have to set up the props and backdrop. I've got a collapsible screen and some lights in my room."

Kyle and I look at each other, assessing the demands. Kyle's eyes pleading with me. Wanting me to agree. "I didn't know. I never modelled before" I answer his unspoken question in an attempt to close it. Sure, I had fun yesterday; the heels, the singing, dancing and owning the raunchyness of it all. But we were drunk and this is tiptoeing the line of being too much. It might be easy for Kyle, a Beta.

"Come on, it's just us. It'll be fun. Marcus is like a pro at this. He will help you through it." Kyle presses on. Trying to assure me but failing to see the root of my issue. "We'll do outfits and everything. You can borrow something from me."

Shrugging gently, an unspoken unsureness of his demands. With another urging look from Kyle we settle on them being reasonable. "Okay." We answer in unison.

"Also sissies, no back talk. I lead, you follow. Deal?"

We both nod quickly, forgoing the thinking period. In for a penny in for a pound. "Deal." We say in unison without having even a look.

After we finished eating we get to work. Kyle and I help Marcus carry a large white backdrop screen into the living room, set up two softbox lights and arrange a couple of stools and a small platform. Marcus adjusted the lighting while we cleaned up the breakfast mess.

Once everything was ready, we retreat to Kyle's bedroom. "We need a theme." Kyle says, eyeing me up and down. Assessing what we have to work with. Pointing to my pink thong. "Hmm, no."

"No?" I ask. "You don't like pink?"

"You know I love pink, but no." he says, stroking his chin in thought. "Did you bring a white pair?"

I quickly rummage through my bag. Having picked three pairs of spare panties at random before I left home I find what I am looking for. A white pair. "Yes!" Holding the lacy G-string up between fingers, spreading them out to see the full design. "Well, mostly white." I confess noticing the embroidered black spade on the front. I didn't know the school had merch, though it makes sense. Kind of like those Harward shirts for people that haven't stepped foot there.

"Omg, perfect." Kyle claps his hands triumphantly without looking at it, striding over to his drawer to pull out a blood red pair of much more daring design than yesterday. Spinning them around his finger when he turns. "I'm the Devil and you're an angel."

Kyle suddenly stops and snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up with mischief when he sees the little detail on my panties. "Wait, I have the best idea." He darts to his closet and rummages in a drawer, pulling out a small plastic packet. "Remember these? The temporary tattoos from the welcome gift bag weeks ago? I never used mine."

I shake my head. "Me neither."

He spills a handful onto the bed; several simple, solid black spades in different sizes, plus a couple of much larger, more detailed ones. The big one is striking, a bold black spade outline filled with intricate swirling patterns that make it look almost like dark lace.

Kyle grins. "School pride, right? Let's show some team spirit. These small ones are perfect, simple and classy." He peels one off the sheet and holds it up.

Kyle points to the largest design. "I'll probably never use this monster one. Don't have the proportions for it. You though." He winks, knowingly.

We carry the tattoos into the bathroom, the bright lights making our heavy eye makeup and glossy lips look even more pronounced in the mirror. Kyle turns his back to me first, showing his bare cheeks.

"Put one right here on my butt," he says, tapping the spot. "Make it centered."

I carefully press the medium sized black spade onto his skin, smoothing it down with a wet cloth until it adheres perfectly. It looks striking against his pale cheek. Kyle admires it in the mirror, then points just above the front of his panty line.

"Now a smaller one here. So it peeks out when I'm wearing anything low."

I apply the second one exactly where he wants, the black spade sitting teasingly above his crotch like a little secret.

"So, my turn?" I say, reaching for one of the small ones.

Kyle suddenly slaps it out of my hand and shakes his head with a wicked little smile "Nope. I get to choose for you." Before I can protest he peels the largest tattoo free, the intricate, oversized black spade and spins me around and presses the huge design firmly onto my left ass cheek. The logo is massive. It covers roughly a third of my cheek, bold and impossible to miss. The intricate fill makes it look almost branded. Giving the impression that I'm not just displaying pride, but having been marked.

"There" he says, smoothing it down carefully. "Now everyone will know exactly what you are."

I glance over my shoulder at the mirror. The giant black spade stares back at me, loud and shameless on my ass. There is no question that I am in the SISSY program. Heat floods my face despite being proud of being a student in it. It's just so massive and it grows more beautiful to my eyes the longer I stare at it.

"Okay, clothes now." Kyle chippers and grabs my hand, practically dragging me across the apartment where Marcus is sitting and adjusting settings on his camera. Eyes lifting to catch my marked bouncing cheeks parades in the open space.

"I know what I'm going to wear. I don't have much in red, but we need something white for you." Kyle says opening his closet.

Kyle has quite a lot in white so I have more than enough options. Shirts, pants, shorts and even a skirt? My fingers lingers on the material of it. It's longer than my uniform kilt. But, it's a skirt and not a kilt. I shake the thought away. My girly underwear is feminine enough for an outfit. Finally settling on a loose pair of white linen pants that hug low on my waist to let the panty straps peek out and a strappy top that balances between classy and adventurous.

Meanwhile Kyle has changed into a faux leather jumpsuit. "Halloween costume from a year ago." he laughs innocently. Finishing it off with a diadem with red horns that peek up from his dark mass of hair.

The presentation is striking. Temptation and innocence. Seeing Kyle and the way his jumpsuit squeezes his body tight I am a bit thankful that I'm the angel in this scenario.

In the living room Marcus is already waiting, camera at the ready. He takes charge immediately, guiding us through different styles and poses with calm, confident instructions. "Alright, start simple. Stand tall, shoulders back, chin slightly up. Kyle, hand on your hip... good. Taylor, shift your weight to one leg, pop that hip out. Good."

He keeps giving small corrections, slowly making everything gradually sexier and more feminine in a way I don't even notice. The confidence of his directions shakes my nervous inexperienced out of me. Allowing myself to be steered without questioning as we agreed is sort of freeing. Removing the hesitation that otherwise hampers the flow. "Arch your back a little more... push your chest forward. Now tilt your head, part those glossy lips just a bit. Eyes on the camera, see through it, don't be shy. That's it sissies." Marcus calls out.

We try different looks: standing poses, seated ones, leaning against the wall. Marcus also has us loosen part of our clothing as the shoot goes on. The strap of my top hanging loose down my shoulder.

"Alright sissies, let's loosen up a bit more. Taylor take that top off. Kyle pull that zipper all the way down."

I do as he says, fully trusting the professional guidance. Throwing the white fabric to the side and letting the mounds on my chest free. Kyle zips all the way down to his crotch. Revealing the spade just above it between the red sheen.

"Taylor remember, you're purity. You're ashamed to be seen like this." Marcus instructs and I move my hands up to cover my chest. The character's emotion not too far from my own makes it look natural and not scripted. My hands cupping the softness, feeling the nipples poke my palms.

Marcus takes a few pictures of me alone. An exposed angel, shamed and vulnerable. Head hanging low to conceal its identity from God.

"Kyle squat down for me, spread those legs wide. That's it, show that beautiful detail. Taylor I want you to stand beside Kyle. You're shocked by his behavior."

I do as I'm told, leaning forward a little and bring my fingers up just below my lips. Mouth gaping open in a feigned gasp.

"Yes! Just like that. Hold it." Marcus clicks away with the camera. Kyle starts running his hands over his body and I am struck with how passive I am in comparison. Bending a bit further jutts my ass out even more as Kyle's hands stops at his crotch just below the spade. "Perfect!" Marcus encourages.

"Taylor, feel Kyle's influence. The Devil. It wants you to fall."

I nod. Feeling the temperature rising. Eyes glacing over the red sheen of Kyle's clothes.

"Good. Now I want you to turn away from me and slowly remove those pants Taylor."

"Um, okay." I knew it would only be a matter of time before the clothes covering our tattoos would come off. My fingers grasping the waist of them. Hesitating while my thumbs test their stretchyness. Pondering the next move without speaking. There's a nagging feeling in the back of my head that exposing myself for pictures is too much, but Kyle is also right in that we're the only ones here and we have all seen me practically naked already. My hesitation halts the flow. In the pause I recognize that they're both waiting for me, noticing the shift in energy. Seeing the requirement to relent control, to just follow his lead than to question it and ruin the mood needed for good pictures. So I obey, following Marcus' instructions I turn as told and begin dragging them down. Jittery nervous fingers pull the thin cloth and in it I find it. That wonderful sensation of heavy loaded shame. Same as wearing the panties the first time, so sorely missed at this point and I can not help myself but revel in it. Letting it flow over me like a familiar blanket. My pants stretches over my behind to reveal more and more of the thin strip between my cheeks as well as my bold mark. My beautiful black spade. My SISSY pride. My ticker thumps against my ribcage, drowning out my surroundings. The thrill of it is simply electric. Cutting through the fog I hear the camera's mechanical whirring go crazy as a multitude of shots are being taken.

"Beautiful, Taylor." Marcus comments, I blush and see Kyle notices. Nodding approvingly at me.

Soon I am down to just the white lace panties with the black spade logo on the crotch and the massive temporary tattoo covering a third of my ass. Kyle has stripped down to his own tiny red set, his smaller spades flashing every time he moves.

Marcus keeps talking the entire time, his voice smooth and commanding "Now beside each other and bend forward more. Hands on your knees. Push that ass out and show off those marks. Yes, just like that. Arch your back deeper. I want to see how the tattoo stretches when you present it. You're proud to be SISSIES aren't you."

We are, I am. I obey, bending further until I feel a miniscule tug at my chest from my growth and my ass pushes back obscenely. The giant black spade feels like it is burning on my skin. Shame, excitement and pride twist together inside me into an abomination of wrong yet overwhelming emotion. This is not only dangerous, it's potentially catastrophic. If these pictures ever got out, my life as it is would be over. Yet that very danger makes my caged dick leak into my panties and my nipples harden into tight points as a shudder travels through me. I want to squeak, but manage to compose myself.

"Kyle, get behind Taylor. Put your hands on his hips like you are tempting him. Good. Now both of you look back at the camera over your shoulders. Part those lips. Give me that 'fuck me' stare."

I glance at Kyle as he positions himself. He looks so free. So shamelessly feminine. His eyes sparkle with joy as he embraces every instruction. It's almost unfair how easily he sinks into it as Beta man. While I still feel the weight of it all, the unbridled forbiddenness of it as a man, Kyle dances in like a free spirit. Like it is the most natural thing in the world.

Marcus continues without pause "Taylor, drop to your knees now. Hands on the floor. Arch that back hard. Show me that sissy mark. Kyle, stand over him. One foot beside his hand. Look down at him like he's yours to do with as you please."

I lower myself to all fours, feeling the cool floor against my palms. My ass sticks up high, the massive black spade fully displayed. I feel exposed, objectified and strangely alive.

"Perfect. Now crawl forward slowly, Taylor. Keep that ass high. Kyle, follow him. Run your hands over his back and ass. Help him emphasise that spade."

Every instruction pushes me further. The humiliation of crawling on the floor in nothing but my thong and sky high heels burns hot in my cheeks, but so does the thrill. Further intensifying when Marcus tells Kyle to place a foot on me. The sharp heel pressing into my back pushes my chest down to the floor. Playing with something this forbidden is nothing less than intoxicating. Every pore of my body absorbing the thick difference in power dynamic that surrounds us, my senses hungering for more of the degradation.

I keep stealing glances up at Kyle, awaiting Marcus' next command and his move. He is glowing, completely lost in the fantasy and I moan softly when Marcus tells him to spank my ass lightly for the camera. A picture of Jerome striking it flashes across my mind when his palm connects. Me bent over Jerome's sturdy legs to receive my disciplining.

Marcus circles us, camera clicking nonstop. "You two look incredible. Two pretty white sissies showing BNWO pride. I love it. Taylor, lie on your back now. Knees up and spread. Hands squeezing your chest. Kyle, kneel between them and lean down over, like you are about to kiss."

I roll onto my back, spreading my legs wide. My flexibility leaving ample room for Kyle whom wastes no time in climbing atop me. The position is utterly lewd. My nipples pointing straight up into the air and I squeeze the growth together for the camera. Kyle is knlet between my thighs, his red horns catching the well positioned light, his face inches from mine. Our eyes meet and I see nothing but pure, liberated joy in his. His tongue stretches out to touch the underside of my upper lip. Embodying the temptation he's supposed to portray.

Marcus's voice stays steady and encouraging. "Beautiful. Now both of you look at the camera. Part those lips. Taylor, pinch your nipples. Kyle, slide your hands up his thighs. Yes. This is perfect."

I lie there, heart racing, body on full display, feeling dangerous, ashamed, degraded and more alive than I have ever felt. The giant spade on my ass, the smaller one decorating my panties, and the way Kyle moves so freely above me all remind me how deep this angel has fallen.

Marcus lowers his camera for a moment and looks at us with a thoughtful expression. "Alright, we have some great solo and duo shots. Time for something different. A group shot."

He walks over to the corner of the room and brings out a sturdy wooden stool, placing it in the center of the white backdrop. He mounts his camera on a tripod, connects a remote clicker, and tests the angle. Then he sits down on the stool like a king on his throne, legs spread wide, exuding raw power.

"Both of you, come here," he says, voice deep and commanding. "I want worship poses. Real reverence."

My heart starts racing faster. This feels like crossing another line. Hesitation strikes once more, but different somehow. Wrong in another way. "I said now." Marcus commands. Kyle and I move toward him obediently.

"Kneel." Marcu's voice booms and there it is again. That weakness in my knees from once Jerome had me inspect his cage. Even if I wanted to, I am hard pressed to stand upright, sinking to the floor in front of him. Catching Kyle in my periphery doing the same. The camera clicks once we're both kneeled there. Marcus snaps his fingers and we both look up at him. Pointing to either side of his leg. The command clear as day and we reposition, leaning against them looking straight forward at the camera. Each of us draping an arm over his wide leg.

"Smile sissies." Marcus whispers and I force a smile, looking through the lens as we were taught.

"Okay, Kyle. You come stand behind me. Drape your arms over my shoulders. Press your body against my back. Look down at me like you're intent on making me do unspeakable things."

Kyle obeys instantly, rising to step behind Marcus and wraps his slender arms around the bigger man's broad shoulders. He rests his chin on Marcus's shoulder and gazes down with pure adoration.

Marcus looks at me. "Taylor, you stay where you are. Right there on the floor. Look up at me like I'm the center of your universe. Like seeing me is seeing God."

The position feels incredibly vulnerable when I don't have Kyle by the other side. Marcus studies me for a second, then shakes his head.

"No. That's not enough. You look nervous, not devoted. I need more reverence, Taylor. You are not just posing. You are worshipping. Stop pretending, become. Look at me like I am your god. Like nothing else in the world matters. Open your mouth slightly. Soften your eyes."

I try again, parting my glossy lips and gazing up at him with everything I have. Summoning whatever reference I have. Shameful doubt burns through me, hot and intense when the only ones I have are me on the floor in front of Jerome. This is utterly humiliating. We are going far beyond just modeling here, we're making a scene. A snapshot of a story. Yet the thrill of it makes my whole body tingle. I glance at Kyle behind Marcus. He looks so free, so completely lost in the fantasy, our telling of celestial corruption. He presses himself against Marcus like he was always meant to be there. I envy how easily he as Beta adjusts to the artistic challenge.
"Better, but you are still holding back." Marcus grumbles.

The remote clicker sounds, the camera whirs, but I can see that he is not satisfied. Kyle leans forward and whispers something into Marcus's ear. I cannot hear what he says, but Marcus nods slowly, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"That could work," Marcus says. "Taylor, close your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them. Don't peek."

I obey immediately, closing my eyes while still kneeling. Feeling my arm slip from Marcus as he stands up. The vulnerability of the position makes me able to hear my heavy breaths in the darkness. I can hear movement. A soft rustling of clothes. Then Marcus' hand on my head, pulling me back towards him. My cheek touching the skin of his thigh.

"Open your eyes, Taylor."

I open them. Marcus is now completely naked. The heavy piece of black fuck meat between his spread legs right in my field of view, resting against his thigh like a symbol of pure power. The sight hits me like a punch in the gut. Driving the air out of me. My mouth falls open in genuine surprise. My ass clenches involuntarily, making my cheeks lift into two firm, round mounds that completely hide the strap between them. So wrong to stare, yet I can't look away, the vision blurring the words of our instructions when all my focus is occupied, letting only the key points slice through.

"Good girl" The camera clicks rapidly.

Kyle is still behind Marcus, pretending to whisper in his ear while one hand rests on the bigger man's chest. He gives me a small, mischievous wink.

I cannot look away, cannot help myself from comparing it to Jerome's. My face burns from remembering seeing my roommate's one up close. Closer even than I am now. The shame of seeing their size while knowing mine is locked away, but my body reacts by its own will with desperate arousal. My caged cock strains painfully. My nipples are rock hard. Kneeling there, staring at Marcus' superior cock with open reverence the image of Jerome's larger one overlaps with it. My eyes are glossy from the mere sight, my mouth feels dry. Empty.

The camera keeps clicking, capturing every second of my worshipful gaze travelling up across Marcus body to finalize it's journey on a face that does not even care to look at me. My shocked expression and the way my body instinctively presents itself. Legs opening up to let the embroidered detail between them peek out captured in rapid still sections.

"Told you it would work." Kyle whispers in Marcu's ear.

Marcus finally stands up.

"Perfect," he says, voice warm with approval, casting off the command it just held. "You both did splendidly. Those shots are going to be incredible."

I stay on my knees for a moment longer, breathing hard, face flushed, still staring at the heavy piece of black meat that dangles as Marcus walks over to the camera. I gulp, swallowing my dry throat.

"Come see the results." Marcus calls us over to his laptop that has finished transferring his work.

He scrolls through the photos slowly. I am stunned. The images look incredibly professional, high-quality and simmering hot. The lighting highlights every curve, the heavy eye makeup makes our gazes smoldering and the glossy lips look obscenely inviting in every close up frame frame. The bold black spades on our skin turn the shots from merely enticing to advertisement worthy for our school. Even the raunchiest poses are composed beautifully, turning raw exposure into something artistic.

"Fuck... I look amazing," I whisper, unable to stop staring at a shot of me on my knees, cheeks spread, both of us with both of our spades clearly visible.

Marcus chuckles deeply, pleased "You both do. These turned out better than I expected." He leans back, arms crossed "I'll just do some quick editing color correction, a little sharpening, maybe crop a couple. Then I'll send the best ones over to you two."

Kyle, still flushed and clearly worked up, glances at Marcus with that familiar submissive tilting of his head "Thank you... Sir."

Marcus gives us both a slow, appreciative once-over, eyes lingering on the bold black spades now marking our skin for the coming days. "Anytime. You two make damn good models."

The apartment feels charged as we stand there in nothing but our panties and heels, the raunchy photos still glowing on the laptop screen. A permanent record of just how far our little secrets and our new "school pride" tattoos, have taken us in one morning.

The day is still young, and neither of us knows exactly what will happen once Marcus finishes editing. Which ones he deems best, but I have a gnawing feeling that I know of one that will make the cut and I am not fully certain that I want it to. While the other poses felt intense, that one set of pictures left me with something else. A sense that I should not be looking at Marcus like that. That I'm not allowed.

The rest of the day passes in a strange, focused blur with the. After the intense photoshoot, Kyle and I clean everything up and change into something more comfortable. Me making it easy for myself putting on what I came in and Kyle into loosely fitting lounge wear. Settling down at the dining table with our laptops and notebooks we spend hours going over our notes and our reading. Drinking in Kyle's knowledge and reflections I make much more progress than I usually do when studying alone.

Late in the afternoon my phone vibrates on the table. I pick it up and see a message from Jerome.

Jerome: Time for your shots when are you coming back?

A strange rush of warmth spreads through my chest. He remembered. Even with everything going on, he still thinks about the promise he made. Caring enough to keep track of what I have asked him to help me with. The thought makes me feel oddly cared for, even when the care is him pushing needles into my ass.

"I have to go," I tell Kyle, already standing up. "Jerome says it's time for my shots." Kyle gives me a knowing little nod. "Tell him I said hi."

"I will." I turn to say, already having grabbed my bag and on my way out, hurrying out the door. In my rush I completely forget that I am still wearing the full slutty makeup from the shoot. I practically jog the whole way home, as best I can anyways, my short skirt swishing around my thighs. When I burst through the apartment door Jerome is sitting on the couch, looking relaxed. He looks up at me and his eyebrows slowly rise as he takes in my appearance.

I walk straight over to him and bend obediently over his lap without being told, presenting my ass just like I did many nights before. The position has come to feel more natural with each time.

Jerome runs his big hand over my ass, then suddenly pauses.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asks, his voice low and amused as his fingers trace the huge temporary black spade tattoo covering a third of my left cheek. I blush furiously, my face burning against the couch cushion.

"BNWO pride..." I answer with a nervous little laugh, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Jerome lets out a deep chuckle. "BNWO pride indeed."

His fingers continue tracing the bold design for a moment longer, clearly enjoying it. Then he pulls my skirt up higher and tugs my panties down just enough to expose both cheeks properly. Reaching for the small medical kit beside the couch.

When he is finished, Jerome gently rubs the injection sites, helping the medicine spread. I stay draped over his lap for a moment, enjoying the warm sting and the feeling of his hand on me. After a while he speaks up "So, what's with the sudden sissy pride?"

"Marcus helped us take pictures today. They turned out really good." Jerome's hand pauses on my ass. It's grip tightening a smidge, holding back against itself in crushing my ample flesh.

"Is that so?" he says, sounding intrigued, yet there is something else there too that I fail to catch. A taint of anger. "I'll have to ask him to send me some."

A lump instantly forms in my throat. The pictures. The extremely slutty, worshipful, half-naked pictures. The ones where I was on all fours with my ass out, the one where I'm almost kissing Kyle and worst, the one where I was leaning against Marcus, staring at his cock like it was divine. The thought of Jerome seeing them makes my stomach twist with anxiety.

I quickly push myself up from his lap, forcing a small smile that comes out fake "I'm... pretty tired after today. I think I'm going to go to bed early."

Jerome studies me for a second but doesn't push. It's not like me to want to rush away and be by myself.

"Aight."

I hurry to my room, heart racing, the weight of everything we did today suddenly feeling much heavier now that Jerome might actually see it. That it might not stay just between us there. I close the door behind me, lean against it and let out a long, shaky breath "Fuck..."