My skin had been city-pale then, my body undeveloped. I hadn’t liked the look either; the hairlessness seemed to expose every flaw. Now, gazing down at myself in the blue light, I was mesmerized by the smooth planes of my chest, all tan flesh and ridges of muscle, clearer than I had ever seen them before. My nipples looked naked somehow, vulnerable. My cock, still as hard as when I pulled it from Michael’s throat, reared up big and stiff from my denuded crotch, the tight chain around the base fully exposed. There was no stubble. My body was as sleek as Michael’s.

“It’ll grow back,” he said. He grabbed the hair on my head—thank god he had not taken that—and pulled my face up.

It was as if I saw another man in the mirror. A hunky blond slave, totally hairless, his mouth hanging open like a dog’s, his cock hard for his master.

Michael moved in front of me, blocking my reflection.

“You’ve got to trust me, Bill. Relax. Give in. You remember how to give in. Cooperate, do your part, and you won’t be hurt. Understand?”

No, I didn’t understand. Nothing made sense. All I knew was that he had me in his power—literally, completely. I’ve been paid twenty-five thousand dollars for what I’m about to do to you. But that was for a man who wanted it. Or thought he did.

He slipped a finger through the steel ring at the end of the chain that hung from my neck and pulled it toward him, tightening the choker. He licked his other hand and put it on my throat, kneading and exploring with slick fingers. The choker pulled tighter. I felt my windpipe flatten.

“Don’t be frightened,” he whispered. How could I not be frightened—he was strangling me. The chain pulled tighter and tighter. My throat grew numb under his fingertips. I couldn’t breathe. My paralyzed body convulsed.

Then—I heard a rattling of metal and saw his right hand pull away. The choker dangled free from his forefinger. I felt myself being lifted up—a sensation of weightlessness and vertigo—the room fell and whirled around me. I tried to scream with horror, and couldn’t. I caught a glimpse of something in one of the mirrors—my body, stock-still within the blue light field—Michael standing aside—holding something in his hands—holding—my head—

I blacked out. Only for an instant, I think. Then I was looking up at Michael. He was holding my face between his hands. He sat in the thronelike chair, leaning back with his ass on the edge. My head was between his thighs.