Predator or prey

"You know, I thought it was kinda weird when they told us that. But then I thought back to the nature documentaries we used to watch in biology class. About Gorillas and Chimpanzees and all those other big, extinct monkeys."

Cynthia's hands moved across Jesse's skin with a confidence and familiarity that quite amazed the young sissy. Despite the fact she had only been in specialised training for the same amount of time he had... she had clearly picked up the skills of her role much faster. The girl's fingers dug into each and every muscle in his back, plying the tension out of them even as his nervousness tried to put it back in.

"They used to go on and on about how closely related we are to them; and about how, for a while, we'd lost sight of that connection. To the whole 'natural hierarchy of our primal selves'... or whatever."

She moved down to his legs now, grabbing hold of his slim feet to bend and flex them at her will. Teasing more oil in between each of the sissy's slender toes. While back up above the texture of her nylon tights was now scratching against his awakened nerves. Jesse realised this was clearly done intentionally, the trainee masseuse using her hips and legs just as much as her hands in the task of kneading and stimulating him. Cynthia worked her way back up his inner calves and thighs, sending all sorts of strange, electric messages into the heart of him. It was sometimes a little painful, the way she dug her fingers in. But it was good pain, that seemed to drag relaxation kicking and screaming out of the tense depths of his limbs.

"It makes you think what it would be like, in those dark, ancient jungles… if you were one of the smaller, weaker apes. Having one of those giant, silverback monsters running his fingers through your hair. Knowing that he could quite literally crush your skull to mush with those hands… and might, if you start to show any signs of being a competitor. But, for now, was just choosing to be gentle instead. Wouldn't that teach you exactly where you stood in the world…"

The young masseuse's words seemed to be embedding themselves into the walls for Jesse, now. Their softly sharp tones etching into his stupefying brain as an untangleable part of everything: The warm bed that was possibly George's, the heady incense, the friction of another body pressing itself into his very bones... and the whole, terrifying world outside. Roaring around their quiet little room full of intimidating whispers.

Somehow, without even noticing… the sissy found himself on his back now. The control Cynthia now had over his limp and malleable body being complete and unquestionable. Almost as if she truly had reached in and grasped some deep, integral key to his animalistic soul. With just a press upon several nerves he was putty to be molded, rolling over to show his belly on slightest demand.

He could see the sharp angles of his current captor now. She crawled over him with glistening skin and a wicked grin. Her firm breasts bared and their pointing nipples being rolled against his chest and arms. She squeezed them together and used them as a tool to work with, while the fork of her legs down below was utilised much the same. Already her training had established that every part of her body was just another appendage of her function. A new shape or surface to be pressed against her clients. The sodden, oily nylon of her lower half sent static shivers through Jesse's tiny cock and balls as its friction brushed or crushed them. This needle-nailed creature was no less a servant than him… but she was a means to a different end and pinned the little toy down like a wrench upon a plastic doll.

“This is fun…” She purred. “I never got what stuck-up bitches like Betsy saw in you pathetic, little boy-toys. Why wouldn’t you just find yourself a real man? But watching you wriggle and squirm around like you’re not enjoying it… When we both know you’ll just lie there and take whatever I do to you… I get it now…”

Jesse wasn’t sure the girl’s new found appreciation was something he wanted… There was a glint in her eyes that was very like the hunger he sometimes saw in Betsy’s, but without any of the restraining love that his roommate also contained. He wanted to stand up for his best friend, declare no-one could or should call her a ‘bitch’ ...but the words would not come. He was paralysed by his own nature.