Submitting to Satin Ch. 04

"Is it weird we dress in different rooms?" I asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it, but I think it's just how we do things. It always makes seeing you dressed a lovely surprise. You look gorgeous."

"Thank you, but most of the time you help me dress. You undress me in your room. I sleep in your bed," I reminded him.

"Then we need to make some changes. I don't want you to think of this as my house or my room. I want this to be our house and we share our bedroom."

"I think we have changed a lot since I first rented my room."

"Yes, any regrets?"

"No, well, actually yes: I wished I had known that you would have accepted me."

"But then I wouldn't have caught you," he said hugging me.

We left 'Peter's' house for the last time, dinner was lovely and we returned to 'our' house. The front door was closed. It was locked. Peter removed his coat. He helped me out of mine. He hung them. He pulled me close unzipping my dress. My dress dropped to the floor leaving me in just my lingerie.

"I want you now," he whispered.

"I want you too. Take me to our bed."

"Yes, my lady."

I collected my dress from the floor. Peter scooped me into his arms carrying me. Once in our bedroom, he liberated me of my panties.

"Give me one minute," I requested kissing him.

"I'll spank you for every second you're late," he teased with a laugh.

I ran to the bathroom, removed my plug, washed it quickly and lubed myself. I was hoping for a mammoth sex session. I rushed back to the bedroom.

"Just in time," reported Peter.

"Spank me later, love me now!" I insisted.

"You're making demands?"

"Yes, I want you to ravish me. I want you to make me surrender to you."

Peter lifted me onto the bed- he positioned himself between my legs. I felt his powerful thighs against my legs, rubbing against my stockings. I felt his cock against me. I relaxed allowing him to penetrate. I moaned as he filled me.

"Good girl Paula."

"Bad, bad, naughty Peter," I murmured.

*

It was Saturday morning. I had left Peter asleep. I was dressed in black bra, panties and tights, a form fitting red top, skinny black jeans with heeled knee high boots. I had plugged and tucked. I loaded the washing machine and made coffee. I delivered a mug to the bedroom.

"Good morning Peter, I have coffee for you."

"Morning, thank you, you're an angel," he said taking the mug.

"Are you okay, it's not like you to sleep in?"

"You look good in those jeans and boots, but I must admit I prefer you in a skirt."

"Now, I'm worried. You're changing the subject!" I said crossing my arms.

"Angels shouldn't scowl," he counselled.

I took the mug from him setting it on the bedside cabinet.

"You want to try again?" I asked.

"May I shower and dress first?" he requested.

"You promise to talk to me after?"

"I promise."

I returned to the kitchen. Had I done or said something wrong? I prepared a shopping list to distract myself. Twenty minutes passed. Peter joined me.

"Good morning again, Paula," he greeted hugging me.

I returned his hug and we kissed.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Something you said has been on my mind for a while, I need to do something about it, but I'm scared."

"What could I have said to frighten you?" I asked gently.

"You suggested that I should tell my friends that I was gay."

"Peter, I would never make you do or say anything..."

"I know, I love you more because of it, but I need to be honest with myself. I can't be a hypocrite."

"I had no idea that my words would hurt you. I'm so sorry!"

"I didn't want to burden you. You know I hate to make you unhappy."

"You remember, we promised always to tell each other the truth, to always be honest, that means sharing the tough stuff too. You have always supported me: you need to let me do the same for you."

"Are you going to carry me to bed?" he asked as his voice wobbled.

"There are different types of strength my love. I carry you with me every day."

I looked into his eyes as something deep inside surrendered to me. Tears welled in his eyes before slipping down his cheeks. My big bad bear was crying. I held him close. I could feel his sobbing through his chest. I don't know how long we held each other- I didn't care. He released me.

"Wow, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be, I feel so privileged that you share your vulnerable side."

He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket: I took it from him wiping his eyes.

"Shall we get that shopping?" he asked taking the handkerchief back.

"No, not yet, I don't think you're ready. Come, sit for a minute and talk to me."

"You know I'm not good at talking: I'm a man. I make a better listener."

"Okay, I will start and you can join in. I don't know what you are thinking or feeling if you don't tell me. Honesty remember? I know sometimes I can work out what's happening in your head just with your facial expression, but other times you go poker face. I think you're carrying this huge imaginary load. I want to help you."

"You're so brave and strong. You're right- there are different types of strength. There are times when you're like bottled lightning. I don't think I'm that brave. I fear what my friends and family will think or say, it's not just about me. I worry about you too."

"They can call me names, but their words have no power over me. I don't care what they say. I care about those that I love and that they love me as me."

"I invited the rugby guys around this afternoon for pizza and beer. I planned to tell them. No, I've decided I will tell them. Would you prefer if I told them if you were out?"

"I'll give you space, or I can stand and hold your hand when you tell them."

"Please will you be there?"

"I'll always be here for you. Do you want me to change?"

"No- please stay just as you are. You're beautiful and I love you. From now on words have no power over me! That actually felt quite good. I'll say that again. Words have no power over me. Are you sure I can tell them about you?"

"Yes, tell them. I'm not hiding anymore."

"Then neither am I!"

I smiled.

We collected our weekly groceries and supplies for the afternoon: a dozen pizzas, three crates of beer, several bottles of wine and a bottle of single malt whisky. I heard the eight guys arrive mid-afternoon. I waited in my office until Peter collected me. His friends had met me some time back when I had been Paul. Peter reintroduced me as Paula. I shared my story of transition. Everyone was so positive. Even though I was outnumbered I felt protected not threatened. They all hugged me and called me pretty, and brave, and special and lucky. I think because of this it was easier for Peter. He took a deep breath then shared his dark secret. Everyone was supportive: a group hug turned into a gentle scrum. We shared pizza, our gathering evolved into a small party. Everyone wanted to dance with me. Afternoon turned to evening. Slowly one by one they left us. Peter hugged me.

"Thank you for being with me. That went much better than I could have hoped, and so much better than my nightmares."

"I think my big brave bear needs a reward. Meet me in our room in fifteen minutes."

I scampered to my bedroom. I stripped off. I removed my plug and lubed. I slipped into my body stocking. I retrieved the cocoon. I raced into our room- I lay the cocoon on the bed and wriggled inside like a sleeping bag. Peter knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" I called playfully.

"It's your big bad bear."

"Come in then."

Peter entered and smiled as he saw me.

"Come and join me in my cocoon," I invited.

"You make a very cute little caterpillar."

He quickly disrobed leaving a small pile on the floor. He wriggled in beside me.

"This is cosy," he observed.

We cuddled for a long time. I rubbed my nylon encased body against him.

"Bad, bad, naughty Peter," I whispered.

"Oh, let me show you, my beautiful Paula, how naughty I am. Roll over and spoon!"

"Yes Master Peter."

I rolled pushing my bottom against his hard cock. Peter navigated the small opening at my crotch penetrating me. I sighed as he filled me.

"Good girl. My naughty angel."

Our sex was energetic and noisy. My little hole had already been pummelled twice the night before.

"You have sent your angel to heaven," I panted after we had climaxed.

"You're so special. I love you."

We wriggled out from our confinement, taking a long hot soapy shower. We redressed. Peter's mobile rang. He answered. He had a quick serious conversation.

"I have been summoned to my parents. My sister, Ophelia, has arrived from New York. She has split from her husband."

"When do you have to go?"

"They are expecting us tomorrow for dinner. I would like you to come with me. When will I meet your family?" he asked.

"You have- you know Arwen. Mum died from cancer while I was at university. Dad was killed in car crash. My two sisters live overseas. We haven't seen each other for a couple of years. You and Arwen are all the family I need."

"I need to talk with my sister for a bit. Make sure she is okay."

"Do what you need to do. I'll prepare dinner."

*

Sunday morning. It was early. We were just cuddling naked in bed.

"Paula, my parents are quite old fashioned. I intend to tell them about us, but I have a request."

"A request and not a demand?" I teased reminding him of an older conversation.

"Would you mind if you didn't wear the bracelets and your collar today?"

"I won't do anything to embarrass you. Let me keep one bracelet."

"A fair compromise my lovely lady. What are you planning on wearing?"

"As its Sunday I thought the little French maid dress," I replied.

"You're naughty," he laughed.

"Then, subject to your approval: the navy blue dress with long sleeves, with black lingerie and the knee high boots, but no knickers. You will be able to ravish me easier," I whispered in his ear.

He smiled and shook his head. I climbed out of bed.

"Does that meet with your approval Master?" I asked with a curtsy.

"Yes, my love. Come and shower with me."

"Only if- you promise to wash me all over with loads of bubbles and dry my hair?"

"Shower, now!" he commanded laughing pointing to the en-suite.

The shower was gentle. We laughed a lot. Peter played with my body using the hair dryer. I dressed in my room, but went without my panties. Peter was wearing a grey shirt with black trousers.

"Peter, I need some help with these," I said presenting him with black satin bikini panties.

"Really?"

He knelt and I stepped into them, he drew them up my legs caressing my stockings slowly. His hands disappeared under my dress. He slipped his head under my dress too. He kissed my thighs. He gently positioned my underwear. He gently squeezed my bum cheeks. He extracted himself from my dress.

"Was that sufficient help?"

"Yes, thank you."

The journey by car was unexciting. We chatted about normal things. We listened to music. The car turned into a private road. A large house came into view.

"You live here?" I asked.

"No, this isn't my home. My home is with you. My parents moved here after my dad retired from banking."

I was introduced to Mum (Sandra), Dad (Nicholas) and his sister. Ophelia was tall, very slim and blonde: an opposite of Peter in almost every way.

"Are you sure you're not adopted?" I asked Peter in a whisper.

"I wish I was at times," he admitted softly.

Ophelia was loud. I'm sure I am being unfair, but she loved the sound of her own voice. I kept quiet, leaving Peter to interact with his family. We had Sunday dinner: roast beef and vegetables. The meat was a bit rare for my liking with the vegetables overcooked. Peter usually had a good appetite, but had eaten less then I had. Ophelia continued her interrogation.

"So Paula, how did you meet my lovely brother?"

"I needed somewhere to stay. A mutual friend put us in touch."

"So love at first sight?"

"No, not really."

"Peter, when did you know you were in love?"

"It was after a couple of weeks. Ophelia, what are your plans now?" he asked trying to divert the subject.

"Divorce! Buy a house. Daddy will help me. Are you two getting married?"

"We're happy as we are," stated Peter.

This was going to be torture. A flash of being spanked burst through my mind. I nearly dropped my fork.

"So Paula, what do you do?"

"I work in IT."

"Helpdesk or admin?" asked Nicholas.

"Independent consultant," I replied.

Peter smiled at my retort. The verbal sparring continued. Ophelia complained, whined and played the victim. Sandra kept offering more food, but no-one was eating. Nicholas sat on his throne and made barbed comments.

"I know this is not good timing, but I need to tell you something," interrupted Peter.

"Oh, what's that honey?" asked his Mum.

"I'm gay!" declared Peter.

"What?" demanded his Dad.

"I'm gay," Peter repeated.

"But you're with Paula?" observed his Mum.

"Yes, Paula is my girlfriend and boyfriend."

I so wanted to laugh as this exchange played out: the looks of confusion around the table, but I managed to remain straight faced.

"Is this a joke?" asked his Mum.

"No jokes," clarified Peter.

"You're dating a boy in a dress?" asked an incredulous father.

"Yes Dad, I'm in love with a wonderful boy in a dress," stated Peter.

"What sort of man are you?" demanded his Dad.

"A caring, loving one and my hero," I replied.

"I wasn't asking you boy!" growled his Dad.

"Dad, it's better to be a boy in a dress, than a jackass in a suit!" shouted Ophelia.

The table erupted into a shouting match. Dinosaur! Deviant! Neanderthal! Tart! It was deteriorating quickly.

"That's it, we're done! Thank you for dinner Mum. Ophelia I hope you get what you deserve. Paula, my love, let's go," decided Peter.

We left the table and walked out. I took Peter by the hand.

"Come for a walk for a minute: you can't drive angry."

"You're such a positive influence on me. I apologise for my family."

"Peter, it was kind of funny. Paula's my boyfriend girlfriend," I imitated him.

"Sorry, not my finest hour," he said pulling an unhappy face.

"Tell me how you feel," I prompted taking him by the hand leading him along the gravel drive.

"Angry, disappointed, sad, ashamed of my family, and at the same time so proud of you: my guardian angel."

We walked some more in silence holding hands.

"What do you think your parents would have made of us?" asked Peter.

"It would probably have been a similar reaction, just with smaller words."

"Let's go home."

We walked back to the car. Ophelia was waiting for us. I gave them some space. There was an exchange between brother and sister. They hugged, Ophelia returned to the house. We drove in silence for a few minutes.

"What's the chance of you telling me what you're thinking or feeling?" I asked.

"I'm thinking that you need to give me your panties."

"What?" I asked surprised by the change in subject.

"Please take them off and give them to me."

With the seatbelt it was challenging, but eventually I liberated my underwear and handed them over.

"Any thoughts?" I prompted.

"Yes lots, all naughty ones. I'll ravish you once we are home."

"I was referring to today's event."

"I feel okay. I think I have unloaded some more of that imaginary baggage. I feel relieved even though it was a mess. Thank you for not reacting to my father's insults. Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being my friend."

"And"

"I'm wondering if I should love you again, or would it be too much?"

"Are you trying for a record or something? You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I just want to demonstrate that I love you."

"I know in my heart you love me, you don't have to prove anything. Cuddle me and rub my feet. I like sex, but we can do other things too. Just being with you and holding your hand is enough."