Socks and Stockings Ch. 06

Laying in the center of the bed was Bryan. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of underwear.

Mine.

One of my prettiest pair.

Black satin with lace trim, bikini cut, thong-back.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I hadn't expected this. My finger clenched around the doorknob, I felt my vision blur and my soul leave my body for a moment. His hand was rubbing gently at the satin. He looked up at me and his whole body flushed red, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. Not only was he... wearing my panties but pairs of my panties were strewn on the floor, inside out as if he'd been trying them all on. I was paralyzed, in a sort of walking coma.

"What... what is this?" I asked. It was possibly the most elementary thing I could say at the time. But it summed up exactly what I was thinking.

"Oh my God," he said... "Oh my God! Oh my God!" he was scrambling frantically for the covers and managed to make himself visibly decent. My panties disappeared underneath the bedspread.

I turned and walked back down the hall, down the stairs to the bottom landing, my posture stiff as a board. Everything around me seemed dirty and foreign. I felt as though I was in another person's house, that nothing here belonged to me... that everything had been rubbed with dirty panties. I simply stood there, hearing the distant echo of clatters and thuds upstairs. Bryan, now fully clothed in his own clothes came bounding down the stairs until he got to the bottom landing.

"Eve! Eve please don't leave. I don't know what to say. Please don't go. Don't leave me. Eve... I'll stop. This was a mistake. I've never done it before and I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry." All of his words were tumbling over each other. And though he was saying all of this directly into my face, he sounded as though he were a thousand miles away. Who was this man who had his hands on my shoulders... that had somehow broken into my house? He wasn't my husband. I just stared at him then I looked at his hands.

"What are you doing?" I said calmly and quietly.

"What?" he asked, his eyeballs swimming in their sockets. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, his face twisted in remorse and fear.

"Why... are... you... here?" I asked slowly. He still felt so foreign and so strange. Who was he? Who was I? Where was I? My eyes shut and I slipped into blackness.

"Eve? Eve? Wake up baby, wake up." I could hear his voice but the blackness was still so heavy. His hand tapped my cheek. "Wake up, Eve... honey." My eyes cracked open and I was looking at the picture of us above our fireplace mantle, we were smiling like always.

"Hm?" I asked. For a second I'd been sure it was a dream. But when I saw Bryan, his shirt was the same, his face still wet with tears, still flushed.

"Oh thank God. Oh God." He was cradling me in the crook of his arm. I was laying in the floor. "Honey, please just listen to me. I was just curious. I never meant for you to see that. It's sick. I know it's sick. It was just a silly thing. A joke. Please, honey, don't leave me. I love you!" He was spilling out words again.

"Stop," I said. I rubbed my forehead, having acquired a splitting headache. "Let me up." I said, addressing the fact that he had me pinned against his chest as though he were a child and I were his favorite stuffed animal. "Water," I said. He left me in our living room floor and returned with a glass of water. I drank almost half of it and managed to get into a recliner.

He sat close to me on the couch, his hand on me knee, studying my face. His face was still flushed and he looked to be on the verge of starting up with crying again. My headache began to subside. My breathing returned to normal. I looked at him, giving him a tissue from a box on the side table.

"Let's approach this as calmly as possible," I said.

"I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again. This was just a-"

"I said, 'calmly'," I said, putting a hand up to stop him. "Before you say anything from now on, I want you to count to five." He nodded and wiped his face with the Kleenex. "Now, I'm just in a little bit of shock. What were you doing wearing my panties?" It felt ridiculous to ask that question. I couldn't believe I was asking it. Once in a while people heard about this kind of stuff but it didn't happen to normal people, did it?

"Well I just saw it somewhere and I thought it might be fun to try something new."

"How long have you been doing this? And tell me the truth," I said sitting forward, bracing myself for the conversation.

"How long have I been trying on your clothes?" he retorted.

"You wear more than my panties?" My head began to throb again. I fought the urge to rip off the clothes I was wearing.

"No! Well... I mean... yes," he stammered.

"Bryan. Let me illuminate the situation for you. If you lie to me anymore about anything. I am leaving you. I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore. I am your wife and I have a right to know about your... needs." I took a deep breath and drank a big gulp of the ice-cold water.

"I've been doing it for about six months," he began. The entire dry spell...

"What is it that you've been wearing?" I said, shuddering at the thought that he might have worn what I was wearing at that moment.

"I've tried on a few of your blouses, some of your skirts. Bras. Panties. Stockings. Shoes." I stopped him.

"Some?"

"Only a few of each of those, I promise."

"I just don't understand. I mean this sounds stupid in my head. It feels stupid to ask you. But I need to ask since I know nothing about this... but are you gay? Is this you saying that you're gay?" The word 'gay' kept echoing in my head.

"No! I'm not gay! I just... think it feels good. Plus... it feels... naughty. I've actually fantasized about being caught but it never turned out this way in my head."

"You didn't want me to be upset? How the hell am I supposed to react? YOU'RE WEARING MY CLOTHES! Didn't you even think about what I might think? Didn't you think I might be offended or upset? These are my clothes! I own these! I have sentimental attachments to some of them! Now I just want to burn them all!" I drained the glass of water and slammed it down on the side table.

"Yes! Yes!... I knew you would if you found out! But I never intended you to! I just... couldn't help myself. The first time I was curious cause this guy on a forum said he did it. And the idea was exciting. I tried it then I couldn't stop afterward. Your clothes are much... well.... sexier. The lace, the satin, the nylon. It gets me excited," he retracted his hand from my chair-arm and rubbed his face with it.

"So, you have been cross-dressing for six months. Is this why we haven't had much sex?" I asked, hoping that this was the answer to everything.

"I mean, I guess it has a little to do with it. It's been hard keeping this secret, especially when it has such an effect on me. Every time I see you in them, it gets me so excited but I feel guilty because it's not because you're wearing them. I think because I haven't talked about it, I think about it more than I should. It's kind of distracting," he said, his thumb and knuckles rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"What else have you been keeping from me?" I said, taking another deep breath.

"It's complicated. I don't really want to talk about it." He looked at the floor, not moving.

I remembered Jason's words from before. 'Fear keeps us from saying what we really want.'

"You don't have to be afraid of what I'm going to think. No matter what, you can't keep things from me like this. It's going to tear us apart. We have to keep communicating," I took his hand, the way a social worker might take the hand of a scared child.

"It's not just the dressing up part. I like the humiliation and the naughtiness. But I also like being... punished for it." He wouldn't look at me. His eyes were on the floor, the ceiling or the walls.

"Punished?" I thought of the word "power" again. The quickness of the connection I made between the two words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Well, yeah... you know... being told I'm bad for doing it and all." He sighed heavily and laid back into the couch. He pulled his hand out of mine.

"So you've been punished for it? Has someone else been punishing you?" I asked, my face red again.

"No! I swear, I've never involved anyone else. Not a real person anyway," he said quickly.

"What do you mean arealperson?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"There are instructional videos made by women," he said, his voice riddled with anxiety.

"Instructional videos..."

"They say things... give you tasks to complete, punish you for being naughty." He rubbed his forehead, no doubt he had just as big of a headache as I did.

"So you do thesetasksand then these other women punish you? Seems a little counterproductive," remarking on it as though the whole idea were a bad schematic.
"Yeah... I know this sounds weird. Itisweird. Look, I'll... I'll stop. I don't want this to drive us apart. It's not worth it." His eyes were shut now. His face was slack with resignation.

"Bryan. Don't you get it? I want you to be happy. I want us to do things that we both like, not just the things I want. I've been telling you this for I don't know how long. Our relationship is not just about me or you. I don't like feeling neglected and you don't like hiding. So stop hiding it. We'll work on this. We can both become the person the other needs, not by changing what we already are but by growing and adding on to who we already are."

He smiled for the first time.

"I don't want you to stop liking this or ignore this part of you. I want us to use it to try new things. But I have one condition," I said. His happiness evaporated and was replaced by concern. "You're not allowed to wear any of my clothes anymore." He frowned. "I love my clothes. They belong to me. They're... part of my identity. I'm going to get rid of anything you tried on and I'll have to replace those pieces. But if we're going to do this, you will get your own clothes."

"Oh my God..." he choked out in a half-whisper. He was still sitting back against the couch. I could see an instant bulge form in his pants. I was surprised at how fast I was getting over my shock. Somehow, I could feel this was the beginning of a new chapter in our lives and change was so sorely needed. Things couldn't stay the way they'd been for the past few weeks... months.

"You like that idea, huh?" I said with what sounded like another woman's voice. He nodded, his breathing stuttered. Something happened to me then. It was as if a little flame leapt up in my chest. Was the naughtiness this contagious? What was this feeling I was having... not really like naughtiness or simple lust... it was something else.

I dropped to my knees in front of him. He was still seated on the couch.

"Someone's been a very naughty boy, hasn't he?" The bulge jumped and a small wet spot appeared on the front of his pants.

"Yes... ma'am..." his voice cracked.

"Well I'll just have to teach you a lesson, won't I?" The flame leapt up higher in my chest. The intensity in my chest aside, my body suddenly cooled and relaxed. Nervousness, anxiety, insecurity... it all floated away until I was tower of strength. I braced a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. My other hand reached down and unzipped his pants. Underneath he was still wearing my panties, now soaked across the front with pre-cum. Seeing them come back into view temporarily disarmed me. But instead of backing down, I pulled them down over his thighs with a strong yank. He yelped out in what sounded like fear. I let go of the rolled up panties in my fingers and touched the head of his swollen dick with my fingertip. He moan rolled from his chest and his whole body shuddered. He squirmed a little. I'd never seen him so hard and throbbing before. He wasn't stopping me. He was caught in a trance, completely stupid with passion. In one fell swoop, I grabbed his cock in my hand and squeezed it.

'Power...' the word occurred to me again. 'Power...' I smiled wide. I was a queen now, ruler of his body and his actions. And somehow, it didn't feel like I was taking away his choices, but offering him a platter full of them... many things to be offered by me and enjoyed. Drunk off of my new-found powers, I began to stroke him wildly. I tugged and pulled on his cock, all of my feelings of the past few weeks pouring into my hand. My firm hand-job caused him to squirm awfully, but my other hand kept him pinned.

After a few minutes of this his whimpers became more frequent.

"What's the matter? Does it hurt? Should I stop?" I asked, grinning. I knew he was close.

"No!... No!.." he shook his head quickly. "Please! Don't stop!" He was sweating, breathing hard like a rabid animal. I chuckled and stopped, despite his begging. "Oh God... please don't stop. I'll do anything!"

Sure of myself, I grinned and stood up. My wet, sticky hand was covered in his pre-cum. I wiped it off on his shirt. Without a sound I turned and began climbing the stairs. As if we were connected by an invisible tether, he followed without a word.

I pulled my clothes off and tossed them into the floor carelessly. I laid on my back where he'd been laying before. I spread my legs.

"Get naked..." I commanded in a stern voice. Panting like a dog, he took off his clothes and stood naked in front of me. He'd pulled the panties back on and he was pulsing underneath the satin. "Now, please me..." There was that other woman's voice again, making demands.

He dropped to his knees on the bed, then dropped his head between my legs. He wasn't much for oral sex. I was surprised he had defaulted to this action to 'please' me as I'd instructed. I stopped thinking about it when he used a hand to spread me apart. He dove face first into my pussy. I was already wet and he made little sucking and slurping sounds that made me smile ear to ear. He sucked on my clit and even sent little shocks up my spine by pinching it between his teeth. His tongue slid up and down my slit, dove into my pussy, filled up the tight space. It wasn't long before I was cumming, screaming like a mad woman. What was amazing is he didn't stop after one orgasm. He kept going, as if he couldn't get enough of me. After four or five messy, hot orgasms, I felt a twinge of pity. I could only imagine how tired his jaw and tongue were getting. But as soon as the fifth orgasm came and I could think a little bit, the next orgasm began. My muscles slammed against each other. My pussy clenched around his tongue. I realized he wasn't going to stop until I ordered him to. And if I didn't tell him to stop soon there was a good chance I was going to pass out.

"Stop..." I said. He immediately did as he was told and sat up. His face was dripping, red and raw. He was breathing hard and he was covered from head to toe in goosebumps. His cock was still throbbing in the lacy panties. I caught my breath then pulled the panties back down. His rock hard shaft bobbed out to meet me.

"Now... naughty boy. You must fuck me as punishment for wearing my panties," I said. Though fucking me really wasn't a "punishment". Using pleasure as an outlet for my frustration seemed like it was working. As if I'd granted his greatest wish, he slid into me with ease. He lifted my ankles onto his shoulders, elevated my hips and began to thrust. At the tip of each thrust was my g-spot, no doubt being bruised by his hard penetrations. My muscles were virtually rippling around his dick, sucking him in and squeezing him out. Each thrust of his hips felt like an orgasm on its own. Legs shaking, my toes curling under his earlobes, I came again and again. Not too long after one of my bigger orgasms, he began to shudder and shoved himself in, down to the hilt, spraying my womb with what felt like molten lava. I felt it fill me entirely and run out onto the bed. He lowered my hips and withdrew. I swore I saw a steam vapor float from his whole body. We both caught our breath. He gently lowered my legs to the bed then laid down beside me. He was quiet for a few minutes. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to him. He planted a kiss on my sweaty forehead.

"That was amazing," he said.

"Yes... it was. Definitely different," I said.

"We don't have to do that again if you don't like it," he said breathing deep.

"I loved it," I said reassuringly. "Just like I love you."

The next day was the first time in a long time that I had nothing to discuss about my sex life. Tessa had asked, of course. She noticed it in the way I carried myself, in the way I spoke to people around me. Something had changed in me. Even my boss called me into her office. She was looking for someone to head up a short project and wanted to know if I'd take up the job. I was only too happy to oblige. It wasn't permanent, she'd reassured me but I was sure something big was in my future.

I left at 2:30 from the office to go to my appointment with Dr. Morgan. I arrived early and stepped into the elevator. It was just me until, on the third floor, a middle-aged man got in beside me. It's almost a scientific fact that when you enter an elevator, you will look at the occupants therein, if only to know who you might be up against if a conflict should arise. It's a defense mechanism with which we are all armed. Most people glance away right after they get a quick look. I was no different.Was.Where before I might have minded my business, looked and then averted my gaze, I made a point to look him directly in the eye. I smiled. He smiled back and immediately his sexual tells sprang up.

The pulse at his temple began to thump. The pores on his cheeks opened up. He flushed slightly. My hypothesis: nervousness. The grip on his briefcase handle faltered and it clattered to the floor of the elevator. Nervousness confirmed.

I'd never had an ego about myself. I knew I was mildly attractive and men looked, some furthered their viewing and even fantasized. This man was doing more than seeing me. Those things men kept secret when they fantasized were dripping from his pores. I was seeing into his mind, into the sex scene that unfolded there. I could smell his arousal. This power over him, to look him directly in the eye and immediately have access to his inner thought processes was intoxicating.

"Pick up your briefcase," I ordered nonchalantly. He inhaled sharply and bent over to fumble with his briefcase handle. When the elevator opened on his floor, he almost stumbled out. He looked back as the doors began to slid closed, his mouth was open as though he wanted to say something. The doors shut before he could say it.

My small smile grew to mammoth proportions: ear to ear. My toes curled with glee in my shoes. Power.

The elevator opened up into the hallway just outside of the offices.

I approached the reception desk. One hand on the counter, I looked at the woman's nametag. I smiled and looked her in the eye, same as the man from the elevator. "Carol, tell Dr. Morgan that Mrs. Denton has arrived for her three o'clock appointment. Thank you." She was taken aback by my tone, but pressed a button on the phone and picked up the receiver, repeating almost word-for-word what I'd said.

"Send her in, please." Came his voice through the receiver.

"He'll see you now, Mrs. Denton," Carol said, fidgeting a little.

I opened the door to the office and was greeted by not one but two faces. A tall man with angular features was standing by the window. His dark gray suit offset the strikingly bright blond hair on his head and his soft green eyes looking at me. Dr. Morgan sat in his lounger beside the patient's couch, his collar loosened. He was scribbling something on a clipboard and did not look up.

"I hope I'm not interrupting a meeting," I said, sitting down on the couch despite my statement.