And paint a pretty picture

“I like to think of it like this…” Selene stated, breaking off the kiss at last. “Some people were born to paint... but we are here to serve. That is how we make our mark upon the world. Instead of splashing our little bit of brightness onto a blank page, or into a music file; we put a smile directly onto our master's face.”

The femboy booped Jesse on the nose to emphasize this, stroking his hands across various parts of the smaller human’s body as the lecture continued.

“We take on the shapes that they’ve always dreamed of. That they’ve fantasised about for so long, but never quite believed could be real. We bring them pleasure. And whether they deserve it, or thank us, or take it from us with whips and paddles and worse… it doesn't matter. Because we are doing what we were born to do, the best that we can do it.”

Jesse was in love with the way his senior talked. The way he softly, gently laid out these views without pushing or pressing them. With none of the ‘you should have already thought of this’ that he sometimes got from Betsy.

“You make it sound so… noble.” He replied, dreamily. Never remembering having had cause to use the word in real life before.

Selene smiled again. “I really think it is… in a way. Though maybe that’s just me making excuses for where I am in the world? Either way… I’m good at what I do. I know that… and that makes me happy, whatever else happens around it. I feel lucky that I got to come here and learn from the best of the best when it comes to making pretty slutwives. It means I got to understand, and come to terms with… what it is people want to be true when they look at me.”

The message was beginning to sink in for Jesse. The often a little naive, but ever-earnest cogs in his brain beginning to whir.

“So it’s all just... acting, really? Pretending to be who they want you to be?”

The senior shook his sharp-featured head. That smile becoming more sly, just for a second. “No, my lovely… not quite. There’s no pretending about it. You only exist to be who they want you to be. So that is who you are. All you have to learn… is how to properly show it.”

He made a move to stand up, offering Jesse a hand to head back between the lights.

“I have a flamboyant group of masters who asked me to recite poems by Lord Byron while they took turns inside my rectum. The next time they paid for me, I surprised them by reading one I’d written myself… all about how magical it had felt to be fucked over a footstool while reading the Romantics. Nobody asked me too. It wasn’t a command, or homework assignment, or anything like that. It just felt like the right thing to do, because that’s what the best version of a sexdoll like me would do.”

He pulled the smaller sissy into another kiss, this one more for the cameras. Then grinned to see the young man arching his back and raising his far leg at just the right angle. Something had changed inside the pretty, little plaything… though he was clearly still thinking it through. This one was going to be a master of the arts, someday. Selene was fairly sure of that. The quiet, slow way he considered you as you looked down on him from above told you everything you needed to know. The femboy would go home tonight and mull over every word and little glance you’d given him… agonising at the thought of having got something wrong. Then would come back tomorrow just as humble, never noticing how much better he’d gotten… or how quickly you could move the goalposts. A cruel master could keep asking the impossible of him forever… and he’d always keep on trying.

When the photo session was over, and the lunch hour bell had rung. The senior turned to Jesse one more time before they went their separate ways. “Me and Miss Daisy have a baby now… I’ll probably never see her again once I leave here. But... I hope she grows up to be someone like you, Jesse. I really do.”

Then the swan-like creature turned away, and drifted magnificently down the corridor.