The bedchamber door is ajar and warm light is spilling in from my sitting room. Everything feels strangely peaceful. My nightgown is awfully crumpled, but it seems to have survived.

Tentatively, I move my body. I’m not too sore, and my magic has been drained. I’d call that a success.

Memories come flooding back. Hazy and unfocused, thanks to the calming tea. A blurry montage of moans and gasps. Of my body writhing and my mind exulting. And I’m pretty sure I forgot to use my brace. Oh my. I turn and bury my face in my pillow, even though there is no one here to see my embarrassment.

Was that really me? Did I truly behave like that? All wanton and shameless. And what caused such behavior? The teas the healer prescribed? Being ripe? Felford’s commands? His kiss?

The pillow smothers my incoherent groan. There are too many emotions swirling through me right now. Each one is loud, insistent, and contradictory. I don’t know what to do with myself.

Perhaps a nice calming bath? That sounds like a good idea.

I heave myself out of bed and pad over to my bathroom. I turn the hot water on, push the plug in and simply sit on the edge of the bath and stare at the running water. I can feel how sticky and gross I am now. And it is making me strangely proud. I’m feeling the echo of my husband’s touch. I gave him pleasure, as well as magic. He was pleased with me.

It is almost as if I am a competent vessel, after all.

The bath is full now. I strip off my nightgown and slip into the delicious heat. The water is soothing and calming and everything that I need right now. A contented sigh escapes me.

My thoughts circle back to being emptied. Whatever the cause and regardless of the reason, it felt incredible. Perhaps I am not frigid? There might be hope for me yet. Though that has to be too good to be true. It could just be that the healer’s teas are helping.

Oh, my goodness. I’m all over the place. So much has happened. I don’t know what to think, what to believe. Right now I’m not even sure if up is up and down is down. I feel as if I am falling apart. I don’t know who I am anymore.

Okay, deep breath. I need to calm down. The last thing I want is to have another fit of hysteria. I need to get a grip.

A seductive thought rises up and coils through my mind. There is one thing that will soothe me. Ground me and keep me stable.

I fight the thought for a few minutes before surrendering. The temptation is too strong. And it does always make me feel better. So much better.

“Alexa, what’s the time?” I call out.

The bathroom door is half open, the smart speaker should be able to hear me. Sure enough, a tinny voice replies with the time and it makes me smile. If I’m quick, I’ll be done before dinner.

With that thought in mind, I leap out of the bath, sling a towel around myself and hurry to my bedchamber, flicking the light switch on as I run past it.

The suitcase is still hidden in the back of my closet and looks undisturbed. Good, good. I pull it out and fall to my knees to turn the dials of the combination lock. The suitcase opens with a satisfying click.

I dry myself hastily with the towel, then my hands reach for a pair of long silky socks. The feel of them is divine. I’m grinning like an idiot as I slide them up my legs.

It takes a few moments to choose a pair of panties, but the red lacy ones are calling to me. Next it is my favorite skirt. It’s too short, but I love it anyway. The feel of the black material skimming over my ass is addictive.

The black sequined crop top goes well with it, so I pop that on. Then I scurry out of the closet to see myself in the full-length mirror in my bedchamber.

A smile stretches across my lips as I twist from side to side and make the skirt swish.

What should I do with my hair? Bunches, I think. I grab the hairbrush and some ties from my dresser and get to work. I wonder if Felford would mind if I grew my hair out even more? I’d love to have ponytails. I think they could look really cute.

My hands finish their work and fall to my hips. My reflection stares back at me. My true reflection. I’m seeing the real me and it is wonderful.

“Lucien! Why aren’t you answering your phone? Are you alright?”

Felford’s panicked voice bellows from my sitting room. My heart freezes and my mind stutters to a halt. There is no time. No time to hide. No time to do anything at all. This moment is inevitable. It feels like I have been hurtling towards it my entire life and there is not a thing I can do to stop it.

I whirl to face my bedchamber door just as Felford strides in. The wall smacks into my back as I scuttle backwards into it.

Felford falls as still as a statue. His eyes grow impossibly wide. His mouth drops open into a silent ‘O’.

There is nowhere for me to hide. No way I can deny a thing. My husband has discovered one of my deepest secrets.

My hands twist in my skirt. Shame and fear are fighting within me, and I have no idea which one is going to win.

“Are you a girl?” asks Felford softly.

Oh my. If the floor could swallow me up right now, that would be perfect. My hands reflexively cover my groin. Shame is going to burn me alive. It has won over my fear.

“No,” I croak.

I don’t need to say that he knows that, because surely I don’t need to remind him that he was playing with my cock a few hours ago?

Felford points at my cupped hands. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Shock pulls my gaze up to his. He doesn’t look angry or outraged or disgusted. Simply surprised. But that can’t be right.

“Being born with one of those doesn’t mean…” he tails off, but I interrupt him anyway.

“I’m a boy!” I say, far too sharply. But the thought of him getting the wrong idea is just too awful to bear. Now that he has discovered me, he might as well know the full truth. “I…just like to look pretty.” Oh gods, could I be anymore presumptuous? “I mean, I like to wear pretty things!”

Felford’s gaze rakes over me. It assesses. It lingers. It makes me tingle all over.

“You do look beautiful,” he says.

My heart goes crazy and my knees go weak. I lick my dry lips, but I have no earthly idea what to say. He is acting like he wouldn’t care if I was trans. He is acting as if he is fine about the way I like to dress. More than fine. He is looking at me as if he wishes to devour me. In a good way. A very good way indeed.

This has to be a dream. Maybe I fell asleep in the bath and now I am drowning.

Felford clears his throat. “You may dress in any way you please. You don’t need to hide in here.”

“The staff!” I gasp.

“Won’t say a word,” assures Felford.

“But…but,” I stammer. I’m truly floundering now. Lost at sea. With no compass or stars to guide me. “My parents might find out!” I squeal.

Felford growls. He steps forward and his eyes darken. “You don’t belong to them anymore. You belong to me.”

Now my stomach has joined in with all my other organs that are trying to kill me. Everything is fluttering and thumping and twisting. I’m going to be nothing but goo in a moment.

I belong to Felford. He wishes to keep me safe from my parents. I cannot wrap my head around all of this. It is too big. Too life changing.

“What are your pronouns?” asks Felford.