Becoming His Expensive Plaything (3/11)

Jacob stood in front of Victor’s door, taking a slow breath, steeling himself for another day. The money was good—really good—but that didn’t make it any easier. Every visit left him walking home with flushed cheeks, hyper-aware of the lingering scent of perfume clinging to his skin, the soreness in his calves from the heels, the memory of Victor’s amused smirks. It was just until the debt was paid. Exhaling quietly, he raised his hand and knocked.

Victor answered within seconds, his gaze sweeping over Jacob with quiet approval before handing him a razor. Jacob didn’t hesitate. He disappeared into the bathroom, going through the motions as expected. When he stepped back out, his skin was smooth, his bare arms and legs once again exposed.

Victor had already laid out his outfit—a breezy, pastel pink dress with delicate lace details. Feminine. Soft.

Jacob slid it on, the lightweight fabric brushing against his skin. Victor stepped in to fasten a thin belt around his waist, adjusting it with practiced ease before slipping the nude heels onto his feet. The skirt flared out just enough to feel playful when he moved, and Jacob stayed still, letting Victor make his final adjustments.

As Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his heels, Victor was already moving, a hand at his back, guiding him toward the door. Panic flared in Jacob’s chest as he glanced down at himself—soft pink dress, smooth legs, dainty heels—but no makeup. No foundation to even out his skin, no mascara to hide the sharpness of his features. Dressed like this, with no makeup to hide behind, he’d be clocked instantly.

His voice came out tight. “W-What about my makeup?”

Victor chuckled, clearly entertained by his concern. “Don’t worry, we’re heading to a salon today,” he said smoothly. “You’ll be properly made up.”

Jacob’s breath caught. “A s-salon?”

Victor smirked, clearly amused by Jacob’s reaction. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Jacob swallowed hard, forcing himself to shake his head. “No issue,” he murmured.

Victor gave a satisfied nod and nudged him forward. “Good.”

Jacob worried at what this salon visit would entail, his heart hammering as each click of his heels echoed beneath him.

When they arrived, Jacob barely had time to gather his thoughts before Victor was leading him inside. Unlike the crowded salons he had seen before, this one was quiet and private, the stylists already waiting. One of them looked up with a welcoming smile, giving Victor a small nod before turning to Jacob.

“We’ve got everything ready for you,” she said, gesturing to a chair.

Jacob hesitated, but Victor’s hand on his back urged him forward. He sank into the seat as a cape was fastened around his shoulders, his pulse quickening. The stylist ran her fingers through his hair, nodding to one of the others before they got to work.

A bowl of pale dye was mixed, and soon, gloved hands were working through his hair, coating every strand. Foils crinkled around his head as they carefully folded each treated section, sealing in whatever changes they had planned. He sat stiffly, time dragging as they worked, his nerves growing with every passing minute.

Then, at last, they began peeling the foils away. A freshly lightened strand fell in front of his face—soft, golden, unmistakably blonde. His stomach dropped.

Blonde. They had made him blonde.

Then came the brows. The stylist tilted his chin up, studying his face before reaching for a pair of tweezers. “Let’s clean these up,” she said sweetly, already plucking away. Jacob winced at each sharp tug, the tiny stings adding up until, finally, she stepped back. His brows were thinner, more sculpted—undeniably feminine. That would take weeks to grow back. Maybe longer.

His thoughts swirled in a panic, but he sat still, letting them work. The makeup was next, layers of foundation smoothing his skin to an airbrushed glow. Blush kissed his cheeks, mascara darkened his lashes, and a soft peachy lipstick finished the look.

When they spun him toward the mirror, Jacob's breath caught. The person staring back was unrecognizable. Glossy blonde waves framed his delicate face, his lips full and subtly glossy, his eyes accentuated by perfectly shaped brows.

The ride back was silent. When they arrived, Victor grinned as he handed over the money. “So,” he said, amusement clear in his voice, “do you like your new look?”

Jacob stared down at the bills in his hand, his mind racing. How was he supposed to go out in public like this? Blonde hair, arched brows—there was no hiding it.

But he forced a smile, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I… I love it.”

Victor’s smirk deepened. “Good.”