But feeling around for a penis, without quite being able to touch it, gavea sense of certainty. I really was Samantha. At least, until I was able toch...nge back. So it was: high voice, a vagina instead of penis, boobs and,while I could walk, it still felt wrong.I went to the drawer and pulled on some panties, again feeling thatstrange sensation of material directly against my pubic area.Then I got a bra, and fiddled with it for a few minutes. I just couldn'tdo up the strap. I thought of texting. “That’s good sweetie. See how easily it stretches? Mommy can barely feel that. Now add one more.”I add a third finger and again there’s hardly any resistance. One by one, she tells me to add another and another until all 5 fingers are in her up to my knuckles.“That’s great sweetie! Can you believe that mommy can still barely feel that? Your hands aren’t as big as daddy’s. Try to push a little harder so mommy can feel it. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”I push a little and suddenly my whole hand. . uh, you did too." That wasn't me," she said.Now, you have to admit that was kind of a weird thing to say. If she really hadn't been there, she would have said "What are you talking about?" But saying "That wasn't me" meant she knew what I was talking about, which meant-- what, multiple personalities? "I don't get it," I said, cautiously."It wasn't really me," she said. "It was me playing a part. That's the only way I can do things like that for you, Ricky. If I put on an act, then I can make. I recalled his words from the night before: ‘I knew the moment I saw you.’ I felt a helplessness that I had never known before, not even during my most intense moments of submission. Shark-like, he circled around me, observing, evaluating, judging. I clasped my hands together in a feeble attempt to hide how they trembled. Eric crossed behind me, closing and locking the door. Everything was moving in slow-motion. The noise of the tumblers was jack-hammer loud and my pulse swooshed in my head..
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