I could feel the
weight of the safety pin at my pleats, a small yet important detail that kept
everything in place. My fingers, almost instinctively, smoothed out the pleats,
making sure each one was perfect. Due to presence of artificial vagina, pleats
were set at perfect place and shape. I just pressed saree pleats and it also made
me so feminine. The saree, in its elegant simplicity, felt like it was holding
me, guiding me into this new role I was embracing.
It was then that I
felt Sindhu behind me, her presence as familiar as my own breath. Her arms
encircled me from behind, her hands gentle but sure. She whispered softly in my
ear, her voice low and full of something I couldn’t quite place—affection,
pride, maybe even something more.
“I’m so happy with
how you’ve become,” she murmured, her words sinking into me like a warm touch.
“The lady of the house… I knew you’d embrace this journey, and I’m so proud of
the woman you’re becoming.”
I closed my eyes,
letting her words settle over me like a soft blanket. Her embrace was tender,
not just in the way she held me, but in the way she saw me, the way she was
witnessing this shift within me. She didn’t just see the outward
transformation—the saree, the curves, the voice—she saw the woman beneath it
all, the one I was becoming.
Her fingers brushed
lightly against the small of my back, a touch so subtle but so intimate. It was
as though she was reminding me that she was with me, here in this moment, as I
navigated this change. Her presence felt like home, like a safe haven where I
could truly be myself.
As I stood there in
her arms, surrounded by the delicate folds of my saree and the warmth of her
touch, I realized that this was more than just a physical transformation. It
was a journey into my own heart, one that I was walking alongside Sindhu. With
every passing moment, I felt closer to her, not just as a mentor, but as
something much deeper—someone who shared in the most intimate corners of my
life, someone who made me feel understood, seen, and loved. She kept her left
hand on my pleats which directly touching my sensitive area and her right hand
on my waist and she is kissing on my neck and entire my body is just responding
in different ways.
Suddenly, there was
a knock at the door—it was the cook. At the same moment, Sindhu's phone chimed
with a new message. The cook informed us that everything was ready, including
the rice payasam. Sindhu thanked him and instructed him to take his portion of
the food and rest in his room, assuring him that we would serve ourselves.
Once she finished
giving instructions, she picked up her phone and glanced at the message.
Turning to me, she said, "Why don't you go with the cook and check if the
food will be enough for everyone?"
As I suspected, the
message was from Manoj. Meanwhile, Sindhu casually mentioned, "You know,
Manoj isn’t a fan of women wearing shorts and t-shirts. He prefers more
traditional attire—salwar kameez or sarees."
I assumed she’d pick
a saree, but to my surprise, she chose a salwar kameez instead. Smiling, she
added, "Today, you should be the center of attention."
With that, she
disappeared into the washroom to get changed.
I walked into the
kitchen and greeted the cook with an easy tone, my voice unusually soft and
composed. He glanced at me, a bit puzzled—almost as if he didn’t recognize me
for a second. Maybe it was my sudden calmness, or maybe something else.
As I spoke, I
noticed his eyes weren’t quite meeting mine. Instead, they drifted—slowly,
deliberately—toward my chest. I became acutely aware that the edge of my saree
had slipped just enough to reveal a hint of my breast more than intended. His
gaze lingered there a moment too long, not with surprise, but with a quiet
boldness, as if he thought I wouldn't notice.
A wave of discomfort
swept over me. Without breaking the flow of conversation, I casually adjusted
my saree, pulling the pallu securely across my chest. My voice stayed firm as I
told him, “Take your food and rest in your room. We’ll call you if we need anything.”
He nodded quickly,
perhaps realizing he'd been caught, and busied himself with his plate. I turned
away, a little unsettled, but steady.
No comments:
Post a Comment