The Hidden Chapters - 15

 

I didn’t know whether I was doing it well—or simply well enough for her.

After the third saree, I felt it. Sindhu wasn’t hovering as much. She watched, still, but with a different energy—less inspection, more… ownership.

She had shaped me into this focus. And I had surrendered to it.

“Hmm,” she murmured after the fourth saree, circling me once again. “You’re learning. That’s good. That’s very good.”

Her fingers, this time, didn’t reach for the fabric. They grazed my waistline. Gently, she tugged at the tucked pleats, pulling them free. The saree loosened around my hips.

I stood frozen. Exposed. Not quite naked, but with nothing left to shield me.

“Let it fall,” she said, almost in a whisper. “You’ve earned it.”

The pleats slipped downward. I clutched the fabric instinctively, but she caught my wrists mid-motion and held them away from my body.

“No,” she said softly but firmly. “Don’t hide anymore.”

I looked at her, eyes wide, breathing shallow. She let go of my wrists and reached for the pallu, which had fallen slack from my shoulder.. She adjusted the drape slowly, folding it in elegant pleats and placing it carefully across my chest—framing, not concealing.

The tightness in my chest broke then, suddenly, unexpectedly. My vision blurred.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

Just a quiet shimmer in the eyes. But she saw it. Of course she did.

Her expression shifted. The sharp edges softened. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around me, and held me—firm, grounding, protective.

My hands clung to her, unsure whether I was seeking comfort or forgiveness. Maybe both.

“You did well, Bala,” she murmured into my hair. “You listened. You gave in. That takes more strength than you know.”

I buried my face into her shoulder. “I didn’t think I could do it.”

“You didn’t need to think,” she said. “You just needed to trust.”

Her embrace tightened for a moment longer before she pulled back and looked at me—really looked. Her thumb brushed the corner of my eye, wiping away a tear.

Sindhu asked me to sit on bed. This time, I sat on bed, keeping my knees together and eyes down.

Sindhu untied her own hair with a slow flick of her wrist and sat beside me, close enough that their shoulders touched

“You look beautiful when you surrender,” Sindhu whispered. “Messy, yes. But beautiful.”

Sindhu forcing me to look up. Then Sindhu started undressing me again

With careful precision, she undid the folds, pulling the saree in a soft rustle. Inch by inch, its softness replaced by the warmth of Sindhu’s touch as she folded it carefully, laying it aside like something sacred.

Next came the blouse.

Sindhu moved, undoing the hooks one by one. Each sound—click, click, click—echoed louder in the quiet room. With the final clasp undone, she slid the blouse off my shoulders slowly, fingertips grazing her arms. Goosebumps followed in their wake.

“You’re shivering,” Sindhu whispered.

I nodded, breathless. “I know.”

Then the petticoat. Untied the string with a single, fluid pull. The knot gave way instantly, and petticoat slid down like a sigh. I left in my bra n panty barely covered, exposed and trembling—but not from cold.

Sindhu stood again, taking a moment to look at me—really look.

“This,” she said, stroking my hair back, “is how I want you. Not because you’re weak, but because you’re mine. You only break rules so I can remind you.”

I reached up and spoke. “Remind me, then.”

I totally forgot what happened about couple of hours ago between me and Manoj and became ready to face Sindhu again. But strangely Sindhu is harsher than yesterday and much more harsher than Manoj. Now I started really feeling like weak. With one push, I lied on bed and Sindhu slapped on my naked thighs and when I was trying to spread the legs, she looked at me with a seriously and told me that I became totally woman in just 24 hours. That’s when I remembered who I am.

I felt very much humiliated when I came to know who I am and who I was. With that she asked me to turn other side and told me that I will be full-fledged lady now. Without any choice I started turning and Sindhu removed her clothes exposing her strap on dildo. It was very huge and felt like screaming.  While turning, I thought of touching it. But Sindhu gave slap on my hand and asked me to turn. They Sindhu gave tight slap this time on butt and then it made me to lift butt in accordingly. Sindhu pulled down my artificial vagina and that made me realise who I am . I kept hands to cover my penis, it became smaller in size due to wearing vagina for long time. Felt bit relaxed after removing vagina. But the relaxation is just momentary. When I took long breath of relaxation, Sindhu pushed her dildo deep into my hole and making me scream, but as the cook is at home, she told me to shut my mouth. My eyes became wet and I can feel my voice also came back normally as the impact of mouth spray vanished. Almost for 10 mins, I am being pumped and can feel my hole became very loose. When she gave me a small gap, I can feel like lot of air flowing into it and slowly started relaxing. And then again Sindhu started pushing it. Now without any choice and I started reacting to it and accepting my new role as the lady of the house who is submissive. Sindhu removed her dildo, and she slept on me naked. I can feel her orgasm coming from her pussy leaking all over my body and both of us are tired and slept on each other and I went to deep sleep due to extreme pain.

About half an hour later, I stirred. My eyes blinked open slowly. Sindhu was still beside me, fast asleep. The sight of her, peaceful and close, stirred something unexpected in me. We were vulnerable—completely exposed not just in body, but in everything we had just shared.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing, emotions tangled. A heaviness pressed against my chest, and before I could stop it, tears quietly slipped from my eyes. I didn’t even know exactly why. Maybe it was pain. Maybe confusion. Maybe something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.

Sindhu stirred gently and turned toward me. She noticed the tears and said nothing at first. Instead, she reached out, brushing them away with soft fingertips. Then she leaned in and kissed my forehead—a small, simple gesture that carried more comfort than words ever could.

She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. Her presence was steady, grounding. In her quiet care, I felt something shift. I didn’t need explanations or answers in that moment.

Sindhu stayed close for a while, gently holding me as I tried to collect myself. Her presence was calm, nurturing. Eventually, she sat up, her movements unhurried, and reached toward the corner of the bed where my petticoat had fallen earlier.

She picked it up with quiet grace. Then, turning slightly away, she used my petticoat to clean herself—carefully, modestly—before turning back toward me. Her eyes met mine, soft and caring, as she held it out.

“Here,” she said gently.

I took my petticoat from her, still warm from her touch. As I brought it closer, I caught a faint scent rising from petticoat. It wasn’t overpowering—it was subtle, natural, and deeply personal. It carried the warmth of her skin, the softness of her presence, and a quiet intimacy that now lingered between us.

It smelled of her—not perfume or soap, but something real. Something only, I would know after this moment.

There was something grounding about it. Familiar. Almost comforting. I breathed it in without meaning to, and for a moment, I let my eyes close. Not out of desire, but something deeper—tenderness, perhaps. A quiet awe at how a single scent could carry so much feeling.

I slipped the petticoat over my head and let it fall gently against my skin. Then I tied it across my chest. The fabric, now wrapped around me, carried the warmth of everything we had just shared. It felt like a part of her was still holding me, even from a short distance away.

Sindhu watched me, her expression softening. She reached over and brushed a few strands of hair from my face, then rested her forehead gently against mine.

“You don’t have to speak,” she said in a whisper. “Just stay here. With me.”

Slowly got out of bed, my body still adjusting to the unfamiliar softness of the morning. As I made my way toward the bathroom, Sindhu joined me, her presence calm and comforting.

“Here,” she said, handing me a bottle of gentle lotion. “This will help you take everything off breasts more easily. She also helped in removing wig.

While I was focused on carefully removing breasts, Sindhu stepped into the bathroom for her shower. The sound of running water became a soothing backdrop, grounding me in the present moment.

“You’re doing well,” she said, brushing her hair back. “Come join me when you’re ready.”

I can clearly see what she is doing in the room. She selected salwar and its beautifully embroidered salwar. She dried her hair with a towel, then turned to me with a warm, almost ritualistic calm.

“Here,” she said, handing me a small bowl filled with a soft, golden powder. “It’s turmeric. After you use the soap and shampoo, apply this all over your body. Let it sit for a few minutes before rinsing. It’s good for your skin—and it’s tradition.”

In the bathroom, I followed her instructions carefully. I lathered up with soap and shampoo, feeling each motion like a shedding of yesterday’s doubts. Then, with slow hands, I spread the turmeric paste across my skin. It felt cool at first, then comforting, like the embrace of something ancient and kind.

For five minutes, I stood there in silence, letting the turmeric do its work. I closed my eyes and breathed. Cleansed not just on the outside, but somewhere deeper.

Finally, I rinsed off and slipped into a soft bathrobe which sindhu kept for me. The mirror caught my eye as I stepped out of the bathroom. My skin was glowing—soft, golden, radiant. I ran my fingers along my arm and smiled, a small but genuine one.

When I entered the room, Sindhu looked up from where she was brushing her hair. She paused, her eyes lingering on me—not critically, but with something close to awe.

“You’re glowing,” she said softly.

And for the first time in a long while, I believed her. Also observed room felt different, too—fresh and inviting, like the air itself had been cleared, a reminder of the help received from the cook.

I glanced at the clock on the wall: 6:30 PM.

I winced as I took a step, feeling the familiar pain in my legs or probably between my legs. Slowly, I made my way toward the cupboard to grab a petticoat, but Sindhu’s voice stopped me.

“Wait, just a moment,” she said casually, handing me a soft pair of cotton shorts and a pink t-shirt.

I paused. The gesture surprised me. Sindhu had always been firm in her belief that I should either wear a saree or a nighty, with a petticoat always beneath it. It‘s a rule, which I can’t question. But now, no rules. Without saying a word, I took the shorts and t-shirt from her, feeling a strange sense of freedom in the exchange.

I removed the bathrobe and slipped into the t-shirt, its soft fabric a welcome change. Without hesitation, she handed me a panty and bra. Then she realised that I have removed breast forms. Then she gently instructing me to wear panty before the shorts which I obeyed.  The cotton shorts felt remarkably comfortable, a stark contrast to the tight, restrictive feeling of a petticoat.

Once I was dressed, she handed me a painkiller and a cup of coffee. I swallowed the medicine, and then took a long sip of the coffee. It was warm, comforting—its taste rich and rejuvenating. A small, quiet relief settled within me as the pain in my body began to dull, replaced by a sense of calm.

The warm coffee settled in my stomach, and I felt the drowsiness take over. The tiredness from the day seemed to melt away as I slipped into a peaceful sleep. The bed was so comfortable, and I wrapped myself in the warmth of the blankets, drifting off without a care.

Time passed quickly, and soon I was woken up by the loud ding-dong of the doorbell. I groggily checked the clock—it was 7:30 PM. Still feeling sleepy, I got up and walked to the door, my soft cotton t-shirt and shorts feeling light against my skin.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see the parlour lady—the same one who had come this morning. She paused for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in my appearance. Her gaze lingered on my glowing skin, and then she glanced at my outfit—my soft pink t-shirt and cotton shorts.

She blinked, looking puzzled. "Why aren’t you wearing a nighty and petticoat?" she asked, a slight frown on her face. "And why no bra? You’re not wearing one, I see."

Her words hit me like a small shock. Before I could respond, Sindhu, who had been in the kitchen, came in at the sound of the conversation. She smiled brightly when she saw the parlour lady, and without missing a beat, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her in a warm hug.

"Welcome!" Sindhu said cheerfully, her voice full of warmth.

The parlour lady, still a bit surprised by the hug, smiled and returned it. "Thank you, Sindhu." Then, turning to me with an amused look, she asked, "You’re not wearing the usual dress code, I see. What’s going on?"

Sindhu stepped back from the hug, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, we’ve had quite a stormy day today," she said teasingly, giving me a playful glance. "With her and Manoj... well, let’s just say there was a lot of shifting going on." She grinned, clearly enjoying the teasing moment.

The parlour lady raised an eyebrow, sensing the playful tension in the air. "A stormy day, huh? And that too on shift basis with you and Manoj“.

Sindhu laughed softly. "It's been a day of change. And clearly, she’s embracing it—look at her skin!" Sindhu gestured toward me, clearly proud of how I was glowing. "I thought she could use something a little more comfortable for tonight."

The parlour lady looked me over again, this time with a soft smile. "Well, you do look different," she said, her tone warm and approving. "The turmeric worked wonders, I see. And you look... freer." She glanced once more at my outfit, her eyes lingering briefly on the absence of the bra, but she didn’t comment further.

Sindhu led the way into the living room, and I followed, feeling a little lighter now that the awkward moment had passed. As we entered, I was struck by how the room had been transformed. It was beautifully decorated as if some special occasion was about to happen. The table was set, and a delicious smell of food wafted through the air. Clearly, Sindhu and the cook had worked together to make this evening feel special.

“Did you do all this?” I asked, surprised by the effort.

Sindhu smiled proudly. “Yes, I thought it would be nice to have a special dinner tonight. You deserve it.”

I felt a rush of warmth. The care and attention Sindhu had put into the evening made me feel so loved and appreciated. The parlour lady took it all in, her eyes softening with approval.

“Well,” she said, glancing around the room with a smile, “this definitely feels like a celebration. You’ve embraced something new, for sure.”

Sindhu chuckled. “Let’s have some snacks before we get into the prep.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. Having stormy day since morning, I was starving. Sindhu called out to the cook to bring three cups of tea and a plateful of onion pakoras. The moment the pakoras hit the table, I dove in without waiting for anyone.

The parlour lady let out a playful laugh. “Sindhu, looks like you’ve completely devoured her. She’s starving! Doesn’t seem like Bala had just a double shift—it’s giving multiple-shift energy.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, is she ready for the night shift too?”

When both of them addressing me as she,I choked on my pakora and started coughing. The parlour lady was instantly beside me, gently patting my back and handing me a glass of water. Once I recovered, she leaned in with mock surprise.

“Wait a minute,” she said, lowering her voice. “I thought you’d just ditched the bra... but you’re not wearing your breast forms either?”

Sindhu burst into laughter and said, “Check her collarbone.”

The parlour lady leaned in, peered closely, and then the two of them erupted into giggles. I froze, already guessing what they saw.

“Looks like a giant mustachioed mosquito got to her this afternoon,” Sindhu teased, grinning wickedly. “Bitten without my permission, and while I wasn’t even around!”

They both laughed as I blushed furiously, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

The two of them couldn’t stop laughing, their eyes darting between my flushed face and the clearly visible love bites near my collarbone.

“Oh come on,” the parlour lady said between giggles, “a moustached mosquito, huh? Sindhu, I think this mosquito’s name starts with ‘M’ and ends with ‘anoj’.”