Chapter 41 Ev #2
Sergio raised his hand as high as it could go.
I supposed that was Abel’s influence.
“Uh, yes?”
“Doesn’t it poke you when you’re sleeping?”
“No?” I frowned. “I guess that depends on the quality of the material. And if you’re a messy sleeper.”
And the types of cages. I saw a few with spikes and other designs on them, but they looked too terrifying. I didn’t think I’d try them on even if someone handed me one.
I wasn’t into chastity for the pain. Sure, CBT felt much more overwhelming, especially when I hadn’t come in a long while, but I didn’t want the constant sensation of spikes teasing me.
I just wanted the happy haze that came with it.
The horniness. The humiliation when I was in front of the right Dom.
“I’m a messy sleeper,” Sergio mumbled.
Abel whispered something in his ear in response. I exchanged a look with Santos. My answer had been fine, right? Maybe I could’ve added more pizzazz or humor or something. Public speaking might have gone better with people who didn’t actively despise me, but it was still not my thing.
Of course, Santos wasn’t giving anything away. Part of me wanted to pout and yank at his shirt to get more of a reaction, but a bigger part of me would never do that in public. Not here, either.
“Is wearing a corset considered breath play?”
Oh, shit.
I didn’t recognize the person who asked.
I didn’t even know the answer to the question.
“I don’t think so?” I winced. I was supposed to know. One glance in Eli’s direction didn’t help. They sometimes wore corsets as part of their rubber suits. It was about the restraint and looking more like a toy. “Corsets made this century are safe to wear.”
I’d read somewhere that corsets made in most centuries were, and the idea that they weren’t was a myth of some sort, or people not understanding the materials they were made of and failing at recreating them, but I hadn’t really prepared anything about corsets.
I had planned to address the feminization part, but I’d been focused on the history of the kink, and how it intersected with gender and trans identities, and how, still to this day, it was used with veiled transphobic and misogynistic undertones, and it was important to acknowledge and unlearn those.
I hadn’t realized people would be more interested in the practical stuff.
Ugh.
Erika was not going to let me run a workshop ever again.
“You probably don’t want to wear it for too long, though,” Santos pointed out. “I read somewhere that it depended on the model and how rigid it was, but a good rule of thumb was not to have it more than eight hours on a row?”
Huh.
“So, like binders,” Cece piped in.
It tracked that they would be the person to make themselves overheard from the back row of seats.
They didn’t love the spotlight, but I’d bet they had done it to bring my attention to them and their Alpha.
The two people I was more anxious about having here, because surely they’d have more complex thoughts on feminization, and there was a difference between me texting them one-on-one to go through all the nuances, and having to do it with an audience.
And spoken words.
I shivered.
“Corsets are not that obscure.” I licked my lips. “I mean, if you have questions, and you don’t trust the internet, you can check a store close to you. Say it’s a gift for your girlfriend or something if you don’t get the right vibes.”
I had never done that, but I’d read about people who did, and it worked.
“That’s good advice,” Santos whispered.
“T-thanks.”
Fuck.
Here I was, thinking I had the nervous stammering under control. Clearly, I did not.
No one said anything. Santos shifted closer to me, but that was all the acknowledgement it received.
It was a good thing, obviously. I was just off-kilter, now.
“So what’s in it for you, when you use she/her pronouns and words but just in the bedroom?”
Great. Someone else I didn’t know.
“Yo, next time you ask a question, how about you don’t attack someone?”
“It’s fine, Sergio.”
Abel was already holding him back, but the last thing we all needed was to cause a scene.
Besides, I could do this. Preparing for a nightmare recreation of the last time I’d given a presentation in school had worked, because in my worst-case scenario, this workshop had been full of those questions, that tone, and accusations flying everywhere.
Which was to say, I knew how to answer.
I just had to find my voice and not sound like I wanted to run away in the opposite direction.
Y’know, exactly what I wanted to do.
“It’s not as simple,” I muttered. Not the greatest start, but it was fine.
This was fine. I just needed to repeat it a couple more times, and then I could go on.
“It just feels right, which I know has lots of people thinking I’m an egg about to crack, or whatever, but I’m not.
At least, I don’t think I am. I like women’s clothes and women’s lingerie, and I always have.
It’s aesthetically pleasing. And I like that I can wear them and feel brave as fuck, because I’m a guy in the middle of a street wearing a skirt, and people are looking at me, but I’m not letting them win, and that means something to me. ”
I sighed.
Sergio looked at me with the proudest smile, so I just kept talking to him.
It probably looked like I was keeping my gaze on the floor, and I would’ve never thought Sergio would be the one I found encouraging when he was usually the loud person I admired and was intimidated by in equal measure.
If I questioned it, though, I was going to chicken out, and that wouldn’t do any good, so going with it, it was.
“And…it also turns me on, yeah. I think it’s a combination of finding the clothes pretty and that bravery, you know?
I mean, my self-esteem has always been pretty shitty, so it’s a boost when I’m wearing something society says I shouldn’t, or people are calling me names society says they shouldn’t because I’ve asked them to.
It gives me power, and I…like it. It’s what drew me to kink in general,” I whispered.
“Taboo felt like something I could grasp and make mine, and that was appealing when I never felt that way about anything else before.”
There was more warmth beneath me, weight pulling me backward and down. It took me a second to realize it was Santos. Santos, moving me so that I sat down on his lap and he could wrap his arms around my waist.
There were fingers clapping and whistles, too, but I focused more on Santos. On the man standing beside me, even though I did all those things that society didn’t like. Even though I’d spurred them onto him. He had just taken a look at me and rolled with the punches, every single time.
He was…
“I love you,” I whispered.
It wasn’t the first time I said it, but it felt important that I did.
Santos nuzzled my jaw where he could reach. “You and I against the world.”
“Yeah.”
“I think it’s hot.” Rox had stood up. “And, yeah, I know plenty of other trans women and femmes who started out just like that, but more power to you regardless. Anything that challenges gender is a win for all of us. Sure, there is a creepy section of people who use feminization as a getaway for being the most vile, transmisogynistic people out there, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get to reclaim the kink. ”
The other person stood up, too. I hadn’t seen them before, so I had no idea what pronouns they used, but I was pretty certain they weren’t cis.
If only Jaime had been able to make it here—and read my mind.
Not important. What was important was that I was not qualified to moderate a debate or whatever this was turning into.
My gaze flicked to Eli. Erika was definitely not going to let me run another workshop if I called for her at the first sign of trouble, but it would be irresponsible not to, right?
I always tried to reach out to her or whoever was acting as DM when something went wrong, and sometimes that meant getting called out for the part I’d played in things going wrong, but I’d never been called out for asking for help.
At the same time…
I’d made it this far.
I was proud of myself for making it this far. For, mostly, answering all the questions, and explaining everything I’d wanted to explain without running over my words or getting in my head too much.
This could be the ultimate test that I had…improved, that I was better than the kid who didn’t dare to stand up to people for longer than five seconds without seeking shelter.
“I just think it feeds into the propaganda that trans is all about being sexual deviants.”
Rox snorted. “Gurl, there’s always going to be propaganda and people who fall for it. If there weren’t any people like Ev, they’d use something else against us. Don’t fall into the trap and use him as a scapegoat.”
Shit.
No, I said I was going to do the thing and be an adult and handle it all myself. That meant there was no time to feel my eyes watering because Rox barely knew me, but she was defending me and standing up for me and fighting a battle that should be mine when there was nothing in it for her.
“Thank you, Rox.” This was fine. I just needed to clear my throat and dispel the gravel there that threatened to choke me.
Easy peasy. “It’s scary out there. For all of us queers, but even more so for trans people, and I’m…
I know I speak from a place of privilege, obviously, but I take that into account when I choose to wear a dress to go for a coffee or when I strike up a conversation with anyone online.
But this…this is my truth, and isn’t that what we’re all supposedly fighting for? ”
“Say it, girl!”
More fingers clapping followed the holler. I had to look as red as a tomato. I certainly felt my skin heating up.
“You said fucking was allowed here, right?”
Thank fuck I had bypassed the microphone.
I was going to implode today, and it wouldn’t be because of the workshop in itself, but because of the possessive grip Santos had on me.
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not.”
I believed him when his voice went that fucking low.