Soap your small breasts

You obey, massaging the bar of soap into your breast flesh, cupping your tits in your hands, a bit in shock at the very fact that you have tits in the first place, and very much aware of John's eyes on you.

John leans back against the tiled wall, arms crossed, watching as you sudse your breasts and belly.

You find yourself gazing back at him as you wash, feeling a sudden rush of jealousy, thinking to yourself that if things had gone only a little differently, you could have been the one in a position to command.

You could have had Sophie at your disposal - a perfect sex ****, eager, libidinous, happy in slavery.

But instead, you chose this. And you're afraid you might be even better suited for the role of sex **** than Sophie was.

“John, I think maybe I -,” you begin, not exactly sure how to express your anxiety.

“Don't speak unless I tell you to, ****,” John replies, and the look in his eyes shuts you up fast. He lights up a cigarette, blows out smoke. “Pay special attention to your cunt, Sophie,” he exhales lazily, putting emphasis on your new name.

You scrub the folds of your pussy, soaping and sudsing its soft, labile intracacies, and gasp when your soapy finger grazes your engorged clitoris.

John bursts out laughing. “I know what you're thinking, Sophie,” he says, still chuckling. “What have I gotten myself into? I had every man's fantasy at my disposal - my own personal harem girl - and I go and trade bodies with her, and now I'm at some stranger's beck and call.” He takes another drag on his cigarette, and exhales.

“Two thoughts I'll share with you:”

“One, I think you're meant to be this - to be Sophie. I wasn't. So if you'd dominated me, used me while I was Sophie, you'd have been taking advantage of me against my will, whether I knew it or not. It might as well have been ****.”

“You chose this though, and I believe you chose what you know is best for you. There's no shame, Sophie, in knowing you're not cut out to be a guy. There's no shame in admitting that you're better off with tits and a cunt.”

“Two: I'm not a stranger. I may look very different, but the person you've been dating over the past year is still in here. I remember everything about you, remember how caring a person you are. I know the person inside you, Sophie, and I love you. And I love that you were brave enough to admit your own nature to yourself, and to give your manhood to me, knowing I deserved it more than you.”

“So when I give you an order, it's not to humiliate you, dear - it's only to show you the pleasures of your new position in life. I want you to feel the joy of submission that I believe is yours to inhabit.”

He pushes himself off the wall, opens the medicine cabinet, and takes out a shaving razor. He hands it to you.

“Shave your pussy, ****” he orders.