The buzz of my phone was my new alarm clock. I reached for it, my body still humming from the obedience of the day before. There were already two messages in the ‘Master’s Pets’ group.
A picture from Rohan. Him, on his knees, back arched, one hand pulling his cheek aside to present his hole to the camera. The morning light streamed across his smooth skin. Good morning, Master, the caption read.
A second later, one from Dhruv. A similar pose, but shyer, more hesitant. His body was leaner, tighter. Waiting for your orders, Master. My holes are yours.
I smiled, my cock already stirring against the sheets. This was better than coffee.
Ansh: Good morning, my filthy pets. What a beautiful offering to start my day.
Dhruv: Thank you, Master.
Rohan: We live to serve, Master.
Rohan: Master… can I confess something?
Ansh: You may.
Rohan: I have this… thing. A kink, I guess. I get so fucking hard hearing galis. The cruder, the better. It’s like my brain just shuts off and my cock takes over. I don’t know why.
A interesting new layer to my eager pup. Perfect.
Ansh: Noted. And I will absolutely use that. But first, you both look a little… unkempt. I want you smooth. Everywhere. I want your skin to be as flawless and vulnerable as your submission.
Dhruv: Yes, Master.
Rohan: Fuck yes, Master.
Ansh: Your task for today. You will go washroom. You will shave everything. Your underarms. Your chest. Your pubes. And most importantly, your ass and your asshole. I want you both hairless and perfect for me. I want you to feel the sting of the razor and know it’s my will. You will do this separately. Do not help each other. I want ten pictures each. Five during, five after. Close-ups. I want to see the smooth, pink skin of your newly bare holes. Understood?
Dhruv: Understood, Master.
Rohan: It will be done, Master.
I could almost smell the mix of cheap shampoo and nervous sweat in the Hostel bathroom. I pictured Dhruv first, locking himself in a stall, his hands trembling as he unpacked the razor and shaving cream he’d bought specially for this.
My phone buzzed. A picture. Dhruv’s armpit, lathered white.
Dhruv: Starting with my underarms, Master. The razor is cold.
Another buzz. Rohan. A dramatic, low-angle shot of his chest, one nipple pebbled and tight, covered in white foam.
Rohan: Making my chest smooth for you, Sir.
The vulnerability of it. The complete surrender of their bodies to my command.
Another picture from Dhruv. His pubic area, now a smooth, hairless mound. His soft cock nestled there, looking younger, more exposed.
Dhruv: All smooth here, Master. It feels so strange. So open.
Ansh: Good boy. Now for the main event. Show me your ass. I want to see you prepare it.
Dhruv, bent over, one hand spreading his cheek wide. The pink pucker of his hole was surrounded by a dark thatch of hair. It looked so obscene, so ready. My thumb traced the image on the screen.
Rohan: Almost done with my chest, Master. Fuck, this is turning me on so much.
A video from Rohan followed. Just five seconds. Him, running a hand over his now-hairless pec, a look of concentrated ecstasy on his face. So smooth for you, he whispered.
Then, the challenging part. The pictures came slower. A close-up of a razor carefully navigating the curve of a testicle. A shot of a hand, covered in cream, working between spread cheeks.
Dhruv: It’s so difficult, Master. I’m trying to be careful.
Ansh: You will be careful. But you will also be thorough. I don’t want a single hair left on your filthy hole, Dhruv. Not one.
Dhruv: Yes, Master!
The final set of pictures arrived in a cascade. Dhruv’s ass, now completely hairless. The skin was flushed from the attention, the razor, the hot water. His hole was a perfect, pink star, utterly bare and vulnerable. He’d done an exquisite job.
Rohan: Master, look. I’m your smooth little fucktoy.
Rohan’s picture was even more graphic. He was spread wide, two hands pulling himself open to offer a pristine, hairless view of his most private part. It was a work of art.
Ansh: Excellent. Both of you. You have pleased me immensely. You look exactly like the perfect, hairless sluts you are.
Dhruv: Thank you, Master!
Rohan: Anything for you, Sir.
Ansh: Now, listen closely. Your tasks for the day are complete. You will go about your classes. You will feel the slide of your underwear against your new, sensitive skin and think of me. You will feel the air on your bare ass and remember who you belong to.
Ansh: But tonight. You will both come online after your last class. We will have a video call. Our first proper session since you’ve been prepared so nicely.
I could feel their anticipation through the phone. It was a palpable thing.
Ansh: Keep certain things handy. A tube of oil, bottles . A hairbrush—the hard, flat-backed kind. And your sharpest pair of scissors.
Rohan: Fuck. Yes, Master.
Dhruv: We will, Master.
Ansh: And Rohan… since you have a nack for galis… I want you to think of the filthiest, most degrading things you want me to call you. I want to hear you beg for them. Understood, you fucking cocksucker?
A long pause. I knew he was probably hard as a rock in his lecture hall.
Rohan: Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I’m already so fucking wet for it.
