Adultery Indian Social Worker and the Bully by shiprat

[foogy]

anyone has the nukkad story ? Pls post

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Indian Social Worker and the Bully Ch. 02

A loud truck horn woke me up. I opened my eyes, was blinded by the bright sunshine, and closed them again. I slowly opened them again and tried to make sense of where I was. And why it was so bright.

What the hell? I was on the roof of our house, curled up naked under a thin sheet that was half covering me. My first instinct was to pull it to cover everything, and then sit up. I was buck naked with just a sheet on the roof. The roof that was visible to a bunch of other houses and buildings all around. I had no recollection of how I got there. In fact I had no recollection of anything at all.

And then it all started coming back to me. The celebration with my friends. Then Lallan forcing himself on me. The fucking, the blowjob, vague flashes of the sodomy. But that's where it ended. What had happened after he invaded my asshole on my bed? How did it I end up here on the roof?

Carefully, I looked around. None of the immediate neighbors were on their roofs, thankfully. I scanned the balconies of the buildings. I saw some people. I didn't know of they saw me. Luckily, I was in a relatively secluded corner of the roof and not far from the door.

I wrapped the sheet around my naked body and walked into the house.

"Hello?" I called out. "Lallan?"

I walked down the stairs. The house seemed empty. It was a mess though. Furniture and other stuff knocked over, four empty liquor bottles on the cabinet, plates of food spread around the living area. Jesus, what all happened last night?

I could not think too much because my entire body was hurting. My head throbbed. My arms hurt, my thighs were sore. My cunt felt like it had been pummeled with rocks. But the worst was my sore asshole. It hurt and it was sticky. Lallan had definitely and successfully sodomized me.

And then I heard my phone ringing. I didn't know where it was. I followed the sound and found it under one of the couches in the living room.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey honey, how's it going?" It was Anup, my husband.

I tried to say something but no words came out.

"You there, Shikha?"

"Yeah....yeah I'm here." I said, laboriously walking around the house, trying to see if Lallan was still around.

"Haha, you sound hungover. Looks like the Stanford celebration was really wild." he said in his usual good humored way.

"Yes, wild. Very wild." I said, clutching my throbbing head.

"So....what else is new?" he casually asked.

And I had a long answer ready at the tip of my tongue. What is new is that your wife has just been bangd by a random sadistic slum thug. He even fucked her in the ass. And made her give him a blowjob, something which she still doesn't do for you. But instead, I just said,

"Not much. Listen, I am late for work. Can I call you later?"

"Sure, honey. Love you."

"Love you too."

I disconnected the call and then checked my phone. It was a little past 9 in the morning. There were a couple of missed calls from Anup. Then a couple of missed calls from a number I did not recognize. And a text message in Hindi from the same number.

- Fun night. Address by 3 pm. Or it all goes on whatsapp.

I then opened whatsapp and saw that Lallan had sent me dozens of pictures and videos. Of me naked, bending over, sucking his dick, getting fucked. I was barely able to get through a handful of them before closing the app.

I slumped to the floor. So it was not all some nightmare. It really happened. My perfect life, with the perfect husband and the perfect future, had been shattered because of one stupid mistake. That of saying my address out loud in front of Lallan.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I went to the bathroom, started the shower and just stood under it crying, letting the water wash all over me, willing it to clean me of the dirtiness of the previous night.

The most cruel irony here was that the rational and professional side of me, the one who counseled women about the right thing to do, was very clear on what should happen next. I call Inspector Dubey, make a formal complaint that I was bangd by Lallan. That pushes him from just an abusive husband on the run to a full on rapist. The security officer machine kicks into high gear to hunt him down. Given my personal warm relationship with cops, they would take the case very personally and hunt him down before the end of the day. I get therapy myself, come to terms with the trauma of what happened, move on.

Sounded very logical and straightforward. But then, for the first time, I found myself in the shoes of the very women I counseled. And I realized, it's not always that easy.

Lallan had these dozens of pictures and videos of me. Even if he was arrested, or rather, especially if he was arrested, they would be forwarded far and wide. Everyone would see them. I didn't know if I could live down the shame. And more importantly, I didn't know if I would ever get taken seriously in the social work field ever again. Even if it wasn't my fault.

I was in the shower for almost an hour. Finally I dried myself, went back to the bedroom, which was a mess. I could see a bunch of stains on the sheets. I put on a clean pair of panties and a bra. It almost felt strange to have fabric against my skin after being naked for so many hours at a stretch.

Just as I was pulling on some trousers and thinking about what to do next, my phone rang. The screen said "Inspector Dubey".

"Hello?"

"Hi Shikha, how are you doing?"

"Hi Anil." I sounded as tired as I was. And the canny cop that he was, he heard it right away.

"Shikha.....are you okay?" he sounded concerned.

The words got stuck in my throat. No, Anil, I am not okay. I have just been bangd all night by the very sadistic psychotic monster we talked about. Please catch him. But then those pictures and videos flashed in front of my eyes.

"Yeah....just a little tired and hungover. Had a late night celebrating the Stanford admit with some friends." I said.

"Ah okay. Anyway....I am calling with some news about that Parvati-Lallan situation." he said.

"Oh."

"I am afraid I have some bad news. I had a few cop friends in other states track down Lallan's truck after our last conversation. Turns out he's not on it. Looks like someone told him what happened and he is on the run."

"Oh....that's too bad." I said, trying to sound genuinely surprised.

"We will keep an eye out for him of course. But you be careful, okay? You know how these guys can end up blaming social workers for what happened. Just watch your back, and if you see or feel anything suspicious, call me."

Again, the rational part of me was crying out, tell him, TELL HIM!

"Thanks, Anil. Will do."

"Anyway, at least we got the wife and girls out in time. So even if this guy is in the run, at least they are safe. You did great convincing her, Shikha."

"Oh yeah, that's the good thing." I said. "Where did Parvati end up by the way?"

There was silence on the line for a couple of seconds.

"Shikha, you know I can't tell you that." he said in a solemn.

"Oh yes, of course. I understand. I was just thinking, if it isn't too far, I might visit her before going to the US."

"We can arrange for a video conference call if you like."

"That would be great. But there is something much more warm about meeting in person, isn't there?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

He was silent again for a while.

"Shikha, the reason you and I get along so well is we are both absolutely by-the-book people."

"I know. I respect that about you." I said.

"So you, more than anyone else, should realize that I can't share that information with you."

"True. Sorry I asked. I'm just.....hungover." I said.

"Anyway, just be cautious. Look over your shoulder. I have already told the security guys at your office to be vigilant."

"Thanks Anil."

"Alright, I gotta go. Bad guys to catch. Bye, Shikha."

My body still hurting, I continued getting dressed for work. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself carefully. Lallan had been careful not to leave any bruises or scars on my face. None of his slaps had left any trace there. However, my shoulders, arms, stomach, ass, were all covered with blue-black bruises from his handiwork. I wore a full-sleeve kurta on top. Once I got dressed, I also put on make-up, which I rarely did. Mainly to disguise my tired and haggard face.

It still wasn't enough to completely hide something from my colleagues. Almost everyone I met was saying some variant of,

"Shikha, are you feeling okay? You don't look good."

And I would respond with,

"I'm fine, just hungover from a late celebration."

In my office, I just sat staring at my computer for an hour until getting started on my reports and paperwork. I was surrounded by professionals in an NGO dedicated to helping battered and abused women. I had been battered and abused all night. I could just walk into any office and talk about it. But I didn't. I had other things on my mind.

Soon my phone rang again. I recognized the number and my heart sank. I had no choice but to answer.

"Hello."

"How's that ass feeling?" Lallan's arrogant voice seemed to blare in my ear.

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"Yes, I saw your message." I said. And now, in the clear light of day, sober, I tried to reason with him. "Lallan, I really don't have access to that information. The system is designed precisely to stop something like this from happening. To keep a wife's location confidential so the abusive husband doesn't track her and extract revenge."

"Fuck you, cunt. I told you, I don't want to extract revenge. I just want my wife and girls back."

"But I'm telling you I don't....."

"I'm not going to debate you, memsaab. 3 PM. Or you become the latest porn sensation on whatsapp."

And he hung up.

At noon, I was standing on the third floor of our building, just around my boss Mrs. Khanna's office. She ran the whole show. I had a great rapport with her. I also knew her habits. Because of her diabetes, she always left for lunch at the exact same time. So predictable, you could set your watch by it. I waited for her as I mentally rehearsed the story I had come up with.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Sure enough, the door opened, and she walked out with her purse. I walked towards her.

"Oh hi Shikha, were you coming to see me? I'm going for lunch."

"Yes, Mrs. Khanna. I need to print out some reports for the Walters Foundation grant, and my computer is just updating Windows."

"I see. Why don't you use one of the secretary's computers?"

"I need senior level access for those files which the secretary's computers don't have. Do you mind pulling them up for me real quick?"

She looked at her watch and grimaced.

"I really need to eat something, Shikha."

"Oh I am so sorry, I didn't realize...."

"No no, it's fine. Listen." she looked around to make sure we were alone and whispered. "Just log in to my computer and print the reports. My password is newdelhi666, all lowercase."

"Are you sure, Mrs. Khanna? I don't want to invade your privacy."

"Nah, I trust you, Shikha." she smiled. And that stung my conscience a little. "Anyway, I need to go. Help yourself."

I waited until she left and then went into her office. Logged in using her password. And then opened her email client, knowing that she was one person who would have access to the information about Parvati's relocation. And she would certainly have had to exchange that information over email with the security officer and the relocation team. A few quick searches and I had what I needed. I wrote the information on the inside of my left hand, quickly deleted all search logs, closed the windows, and left the office.

Back in my office, I stared at the address for a long time. I was the one who had convinced Parvati to leave Lallan. And now I had to be the one sending him back to her. How could I live with myself after that? No, I couldn't do this. I had to go to the cops, to my bosses, tell them everything.

But then I remembered Anup in sunny San Francisco. The acceptance email from Stanford. And the dozens of naked pics and videos of mine on whatsapp. Did I have a choice?

I sat and just stewed over this dilemma for a long time.

"You really cut it close, cunt." Lallan answered the phone without as much as a hello. "It is 2:56 pm. Just a few more minutes and I would have forwarded it to everyone I know."

"Well, yeah, whatever."

"Okay, so tell me."

"She is in Jaipur."

"Jaipur? I thought you said Surat."

"They changed plans at the last minute." I lied. "She is in Jaipur."

"Okay.....address?"

I was silent for a few seconds.

"Speak up, bitch!"

"Lallan, I need your absolute solemn promise and assurance that you are not going to be violent or abusive to her." I said. "Don't do that, please."

"I already told you, I'm changed." he said sounding sincere.

"Well, stick to that change please."

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what I asked you, bitch."

I sighed.

"Fine. Write it down."

--------

A couple of hours later, Mrs. Khanna came bustling into my office.

"Shikha....I am so confused." she said agitated. "You're resigning with immediate effect? Why???"

"Sorry, Mrs. Khanna. I know it's not fair of me. But there is just so much to do and take care of before moving to America."

"I know. We are preparing for you to leave. But with immediate effect?"

What could I say to her? That I cannot, in good conscience, continue doing my job after betraying one of its key tenets of confidentiality? That I lied and got access to her records to save myself?

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I am so sorry. But.....I need to go to Mumbai for some visa stuff right away anyway."

"Shikha.....this is so sudden."

"I know. I am very sorry."

I was jumpy on my way home. I kept expecting Lallan to jump out from somewhere and force himself on me again. But he was probably on his way to Jaipur.

I got home and started cleaning the mess that Lallan had made last night. I threw out all the bed sheets and pillows that he had come in contact with. I threw out the glasses and plates he had used.

And then I started mopping the floor. With a cloth in my hand. At one spot in the corner, where there was a sticky splotch of what was clearly semen, I suddenly had a random flash back. To sometime in the middle of the night that I had blanked out on til now. Lallan was fucking my mouth in that corner, with me on my knees. And then he started cumming. And he told me to swallow. Which I did. But some cum dripped out the side of my lips. And dropped on the floor. That's what I was looking at now.

I started scrubbing it. Hard. Somehow it seemed stickier than the others. I scrubbed and scrubbed. And then I just curled up there and cried again.

The next few days, I was displaying all the signs of what I myself recognized as post-traumatic bang syndrome. I had seen it from the other side, as a psychologist and therapist. Now I was living it. There was a perpetual sense of self-loathing for a variety of reasons. First was the hypocrisy of my staying silent and betraying Parvati after years and years of telling women to stand up to abusers. I knew the theory, I understood the logic, and I had sanctimoniously lectured lots of women to do the right thing.

And here I was, a privileged, connected, resourceful woman, who was better equipped than any of them to punish Lallan and hold him accountable, put him away for the rest of his life. And I was unable to go through with it. All under the threat of some naked pics being made public.

Another reason for self-loathing was succinctly summed up by one Lallan line that kept replaying in my head. When he had said in a very matter-of-fact way, "you came twice" after the first time he fucked me. It was true. All those dozens of pics and videos he sent me, I finally managed to make myself look at all of them. They told the story of the night in a sequential way that was difficult to ignore. That as the night progressed, I became a lot more willing participant in the activities, and by the end, there was no real threat or force being applied. I watched myself have orgasm after orgasm, in various rooms, in various positions, many times kissing Lallan passionately like a lover.

The mystery of why I ended up on the roof was solved in one particularly humiliating video.

It started to the sound of Lallan chuckling and the camera focused on my naked ass, with the flesh slowly jiggling. Then it zoomed out and I was visible crawling on all four up the stairs, having trouble getting the order of knees and hands right, very clearly drunk.

"Hahaha.....memsaab.....say it again what you said. About your fantasy."

"Want.....fuck......roof." I slurred.

A shiver ran through my body as I watched the video. I had never even come close to acting on this, but it was indeed a secret fantasy of mine for many years, to have sex on the roof. Over the years, Anup and I had taken a couple of calculated risks of outdoor sex, like on a deserted beach and once hiking in the empty wilderness. The peak of that would have been to have sex on our own roof. But obviously, it was such an idiotic risk, surrounded by neighbors who might hear or see and worse, videotape. So we had never taken that idiotic risk.

"Hahahaha....this rich slut told me she has the fantasy of being fucked on her own roof. It is about to get bright soon. And we have been fucking like animals all night. And yet she wants more. In the open."

This commentary continued as I crawled up and up the stairs, negotiating the bend in the stairs with great difficulty, and finally reaching the door of the roof.

That video ended. The next one had the sex on the roof in progress, although it was mostly dark. The phone was in Lallan's hand and you could make out from the moving outlines that I was on top of him and moving without any duress. And from the sounds I was making, clearly having a good time.

The PTSD manifested itself in other ways too. I was continuously paranoid, looking around, expecting Lallan or someone else to jump me at any moment. My heart was always racing. Every hour or so, I would measure my own heart rate and it was always about 40% above my resting heart rate. There was a continuous sense of fear and nervousness. It took a lot of effort to sound normal when talking with Anup over the phone or skype.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Anup didn't suspect anything was too wrong, except in one regard. I used to often do a little flashing or stripping on screen for him as he sat half the planet away. The next few days, I kept refusing to do it, being fully covered, and giving flimsy excuses. Couldn't tell him the truth, about all the bruises and hickeys, could I? Well, I could have, and he would have understood and flown back to take care of me. But I didn't want to. I just wanted to forget all this as soon as possible and start the San Francisco chapter of my life.

Anup was peeved at my sudden and continuing refusal to exhibit myself to him, and we had an argument, which was rare for us. We were one of those couples which never fought, mainly because we were both very easy-going and accommodating by nature. But this time, he got upset and sulked for a couple of days, not calling me, just texting.

Which was in a way fine. I loved talking to and seeing my beloved husband. But in the immediate aftermath of the night with Lallan, it was getting hard to keep up the facade.

Every day for the next few days, I showered four or five times. Again, the psychologist in me recognized the underlying motivations in this, to clean away guilt and a feeling of disgust.

After every shower, I would stand naked in front of the very mirror in which I had first seen Lallan fucking me, and examine the bruises all over my boobs, back, stomach, ass, thighs, arms, and shoulders. And the scientist in me would curiously look at the change in color as the bruises progressed from reddish-blue to green to black-brown to finally a weird looking yellow.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The pain elsewhere in my body, especially my ass, went away a lot faster than I expected. I had seen slum women get battered and be laid up or in pain for days. Maybe it was the benefit of my genes or my fitness regimen, but I bounced back fast, at least physically.

Non-physically, it was a different story. Bouts of panic and depression and guilt. Fitful sleep, tossing and turning, with recurring flashbacks and nightmares.

The biggest problem was figuring out what to do with my day, now that I had quit my job. Barring occasional holidays and vacations, I had never really had this much free time. Until now, I had always been busy during the week with 12-14 hour days, first studying, and then working. I knew grad college in Stanford would keep me busy too. But the intervening months would be hard, especially dealing with the PTSD.

I tried watching TV and reading books. But my mind wouldn't focus. One morning, about 2 restless days after I quit my job at the NGO, I found myself standing in front of our liquor cabinet.

At 8 AM.

It was Anup's hobby to collect different kinds of fancy booze and keep that push looking cabinet well-stocked, like some regal British aristocrat. His friends and family knew this, so kept sending stuff as gifts too.

Just a few weeks ago, Anup and I had discussed it on Skype.

"Hehe, today Nisha had come over and was admiring your booze collection. And was asking, how will it get used up, with you in the US?"

"Yeah, I have been wondering about that. You're not much of a drinker, at least not of the stuff you have. And you can't bring it all over."

"So what do you think? Give away to friends?"

"Yeah, or have a couple of drinking parties at home with all our friends to finish it. Your call."

"If we decide to give them away, there will be a stampede over the single malts."

"Haha, yeah, it's Delhi. Nothing is as worshiped as single malt."

Over the course of that violent and debauched night, Lallan and I had finished five bottles of hard liquor. I had seen them strewn all around the house. That made it almost two liters each of strong imported alcohol. Enough to cause alcohol poisoning in anyone except the most hardened alcoholic. I think it was the continuous strenuous physical activity of sex that had kept that from happening.

As I thought about that night again, I felt another bout of fear and panic and looked around to make sure I was alone at home. I went to the door and double checked the lock. Then I came back and grabbed the first bottle I could reach for.

It was 8:04 AM. Definitely wayyyyyy to early to get drunk. Maybe just a small drink, to calm my nerves. I opened the cap and without bothering with a glass, just put the bottle to my lip, like Lallan had done it.

The next thing I remember, it was almost noon. The bottle was one third finished. The door bell was ringing in the distance. Maybe it was the numbing effect of alcohol, but for the first time in a while, I did not feel crippling fear or panic. I blinked, got up, and slowly and carefully walked to the door.

"Registered letter." the courier guy said.

"Hmm." I took the pad from him to sign.

I heard him take a loud sniff and grimace a little as I handed back the pad and took the letter. I could see from his face that he had smelled the alcohol on my breath, and was probably judging me, thinking I am one of those rich alcoholic housewives who just sit around all day drinking.

Who cares? The letter had some information about our car insurance. I didn't even bother to open it. Went back to my bottle.

----------

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The following week, I took a taxi to my former office. They had been asking me to come in to finish the final paperwork and also do the exit interview, and I had been postponing it for a while using some pretext or another.

I had spent the intervening days nearly perfecting the art of being a conscientious alcoholic. I was easily getting through a bottle or bottle and half of hard liquor a day. But I had to plan carefully to avoid detection. I would schedule my drinking around my Skype calls with my husband and the farewell social visits that I still had to make.

So for example, I would wake up and have a long daily Skype call with Anup, when he was leaving work in California, getting details of his day, putting up the facade of normalcy. He had stopped asking me to flash him and since the bruises were still there, I had not offered. We would get done with that call at about 8 AM. Then the drinking would start. Not leisurely sipping and savoring the drink, mind you. Be it expensive cognac or single malt of flavored vodka or tequila, my approach was to mix with with soda and chug fast. By 11, I would be nice and drunk. During this time, I would masturbate, shamefully, to the images and memories of my night with Lallan a bunch of times. The guilt of this made me drink even more.

Around 11, the masturbation and the booze would prove too much for my system. I'd drift off into a drunken slumber. From which I would awaken at about 2. Then it was time for lunch. Usually I loved cooking, even when I was alone, and made healthy elaborate meals. But not anymore. I'd either just make Maggi noodles or then order delivery from a nearby restaurant.

By the time the food reached, I would have started drinking again. I am sure all the delivery guys also smelled the booze on my breath and saw my bloodshot eyes, and had me pegged as a rich day drinking housewife. I would eat the food, go back to my schedule of drinking and playing with myself, and then pass out around 6 pm.

This nap was shorter. On most days, I had plans to meet some friends or others for dinner. I would wake up, chug a couple of cups of coffee to sober myself up, brush my teeth and use lots of mouthwash, and then go for dinner. Some friends did sense something was off and would ask if everything was okay. I'd just say I was just recovering from a fever. During dinner, Anup would usually call, having just woken up in California. I would excuse myself to talk with him. Then finish dinner, then come home. And drink myself to sleep. And then set an alarm for the next day to wake up for another call with Anup.

This morning, I had to finally go to the office. I had told myself to postpone drinking till I returned. But I was feeling particularly low that morning because Anup and I had another little tiff. He kept insisting there was something wrong that I wasn't telling him. And as tempted as I was, I couldn't bring myself to. There were a lot of angry and passive aggressive jabs at each other. I was in a foul mood.

So I took a few shots of tequila, then did the brush-and-mouthwash thing, and took an Uber to the office, not feeling sober enough to drive.

Have you ever been in that phase of early drunkenness, where you aren't exactly slurring or swaying, and have enough control to act normal? I was in that phase as I reached office. To the discerning eye, it can seem that you might be a bit drunk. But if you are confident and careful enough, you can get through it.

I entered the office and everyone from the cleaning staff to the secretaries to other counselors came to say hi. I had left very abruptly so this was the first chance they had to say goodbye properly. I think I managed those interactions competently. I could still see a couple of brows getting furrowed though. These were people who dealt with domestic issues and behavioral problems on a daily basis, as had I. I am sure I could tell a slightly drunk person, even if their breath smelled of mouthwash. Especially if their breath smelled of mouthwash. There is no reason for someone to have that minty fresh breath at 10 AM unless they are using it to mask some other smell. But no one said anything.

I was sitting in the personnel office filling out the exit forms. The clerk in charge of it either didn't notice or didn't care my mild inebriation. He told me what to do and returned to playing solitaire on his computer.

"There you are, Shikha! I heard you were in!"

I turned around and saw Dr. Nita, the head of the counselling team. She was Mrs. Khanna's boss, so my superboss. Unlike us counselors who had bachelors or masters degrees in psychology with training and experience, she was a full fledged psychiatrist, with a medical degree, a postgraduate degree, and a doctorate from Stanford, with twenty years of experience in the field. Licensed to practice psychiatry in India, UK, and USA. She was the one who had trained me and her recommendation letter had been pivotal in getting me into Stanford.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Nita ma'am, hi!" I smiled, but felt a little nervous. She was too much of an expert to not read me. She bent down to hug me and I felt her sniff a little too.

"Boring paperwork, huh?" she said pointing at the forms with her eyes.

"It's not that bad." I shrugged. "I'll be done with this soon and then have my exit interview with Mrs. Khanna."

"That's what I came to tell you." she said, smiling. "Mrs. Khanna got called away for a meeting, so I will be doing your exit interview."

My heart sank.

"Oh....it's okay. You must be busy. I can come by later when...."

"Nonsense!" she cut me off. "I am never too busy for our staff, especially not a star counselor like you, headed to my alma mater Stanford. So when you're done here, just come on down to my office. I have an open schedule."

"Alright." I nodded.

Half an hour later, I knocked on the thick wooden door of her corner office nervously. In between, I had run to the restaurant next door and chugged a cold coffee to further suppress my inebriation.

"Shikha, please come in!" she opened the door and ushered me in, after a quick hug.

I had been to the office many times before, but it always intimidated me a little. Her degrees from AIIMS, Cambridge, and Stanford on the wall, next to lots of awards. A plush leather couch where she saw some patients, because she also worked as a psychiatrist. Antique furniture, paintings, a couple of busts of her intellectual idols, everything. She was one of my idols and role models.

I started walking towards the chair at her table, but she pointed me to the couch.

"Please sit here. It will be more comfortable." she said. I didn't know whether to read something into the fact that she was pointing me to the couch she usually sat patients in.

She took a seat in the armchair next to it and said,

"So...Shikha....I was going to offer you coffee, but from breath, I see you just had some."

"Yeah, was feeling a little drowsy." I smiled.

"Can I offer you something stronger, like tequila or whisky? I keep some in the office to entertain the VIP clients and donors." she said.

I just nervously laughed.

"Hahaha, no, it's fine. A bit early for it." I said.

Suddenly her face got very serious.

"Is it?"

I swallowed hard and just stared at her.

"Shikha, please don't insult my intelligence and my expertise. Nor your own."

"Nita....I don't..." although she was 50 years old, she always insisted everyone, from the peon to her subordinates, just call her Nita. No ma'am, no Dr. or Mrs whatever. Just Nita.

"You're drunk. At least you were drunk when you got here. A lot of the others noticed. And it's obvious to me." she sounded stern but also concerned.

"I...I am....well...." I switched to feeling offended. "If you must know, Nita, I did meet some friends for a mimosa brunch before I came here."

"Did you?"

"What are you implying?"

She sighed and sat back.

"Don't be that way, Shikha. You are too smart and too good of a counselor to know what you're doing is classic denial and evasion and turning the tables on me."

I stared at her defiantly. She met my gaze. I looked away.

"I thought this was supposed to be an exit interview about my job." I tried to change the subject.

She sighed again and opened a file.

"Okay, you want to talk about your job? Let's see. This Parvati case of yours. Which has just ended in....."

I cringed....I feared the worst....murder, abuse, something like that. I had betrayed Parvati by hacking into my boss' computer to get her relocation address and given it to her abusive husband.

"...it has ended in the first ever relocation reversal and rejection in our history."

"Excuse me?"

"This woman Parvati, came back to Delhi, and with her husband by her side, came here to talk to you and take back her complaints. We had to call in the security officer and do what she wanted. She is back home. With him, saying she wants to try to make things work. With a man both you and the cop on file, Inspector Dubey, describe as a psychopath."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Oh! I had no idea!" I said, showing surprise, although inside, I was relieved she was okay.

Nita was staring at me, trying to read my expressions. Then she continued.

"Her official statement says that after relocation, she realized she had made a mistake. And so she contacted the husband. And he came to meet her. And they made up. And they want to give it another go."

"That is.....disappointing."

"I'm sure it is. I can see from the notes and from what I have heard that you worked really hard on this case."

"I did."

"Then what happened? Why do you think she recanted and returned him him?"

I looked at her and gave a small shrug.

"It happens....the cycle of abuse theory as Lenore..."

"Yes, yes, the cycle of abuse theory by Lenore Walker. I know all about it. Don't teach me social psychology, Shikha. I have learned more than you have forgotten." she angrily said.

I was taken aback by this outburst. I just sat there with my mouth open, my mind unable to race fast enough to come up with a palatable lie.

She looked a little embarrassed herself. She looked down at her notes for a few seconds. And then looked me at me.

"Shikha, please. Stop fighting me. Just tell me the truth. I know there is something you are hiding. You were one of our stars. I consider you a beloved protege. I wrote you a glowing recommendation for your PhD. I talked to folks at Stanford about you. You are destined for great things. This.....this makes no sense. You resign with immediate effect. Not even a notice period. You dodge our attempts to get you to come back in for so long. When you do show up, you are drunk in the morning. And this thing happens. Something is off. More importantly, something is wrong. Help me understand it. Just be honest."

"Nita....I.....I don't know..." I put my face in my hands and did my best not to cry.

She got up and joined me on the couch, putting her hands on my kurta. She rubbed the fabric a little, over my shoulder and then my back. I involuntarily took a sharp breath when her fingers rubbed a sore bruise. That made her pause.

"There is one more thing I was wondering about." she said. "It's a really hot day."

I raised my face and looked at her. She had trained me, so I knew where she was going with this.

"I have known you for many many years. You're not a prude when it comes to dressing. And you always favor comfort, I have noticed. When it is a really hot day, I see you in sleeveless kameezes or tops, capris, skirts. Never anything skimpy, but always comfortable. Today it is 42 celsius and you have come in wearing a full sleeve salwar kameez. And just now you....."

She trailed off and looked at me. My shoulders slumped.

I felt her hands slowly reach for my kameez and pull it up. I didn't resist. She pulled it up slowly and gasped when she was the bruises on my back and my stomach.

"I have seen enough." she said and dropped the fabric down.

She got up and paced a little. I just sat there like an errant student staring at my hands, my face red with shame. She spoke after a few seconds.

"Do you have any money in your purse?"

I was taken aback by that question. I looked up and nodded.

"Give me some. Anything. Even a one rupee coin."

I opened the purse, grabbed the first note I found and gave it to her.

"This 20 rupee note can be your first down-payment to hire me as your psycho-therapist. If you want me to serve in that capacity that is."

This was such a confusing development, that I looked at her with a genuinely baffled expression.

"Whatever we talk about in an exit interview can be reviewed by any senior management in the organization. But if you talk to me as a patient, well, I am licensed to practice psychiatry in multiple country, including USA where the patient privacy laws are way stricter than India. So I have to always adhere to them wherever I am. Whatever you tell me....."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

".....is covered by doctor-patient confidentiality." I finished her thought, finally getting her point.

I nodded.

"I need a verbal confirmation, Shikha."

"Yes, Nita, I would like you to be my psycho-therapist. Please consider that 20 rupees as my first down-payment."

I exhaled and sat back. Honestly, I felt relieved. Whatever had happened, I had been unable to talk to anyone about it. That made things worse. Now I had a super-qualified and trusted psychiatrist that I could talk to. With the promise of confidentiality. As someone from the field myself, I should have done this on day one.

I was glad she pushed me into it. I opened my mouth and started to talk.

"Soon after I heard from Stanford, I went out to celebrate with some friends. Got a little drunk. I was trying to get inside my home when....."

And I told her the whole story.

----------

It was not easy, but I told her everything, in excruciatingly painful detail. I cried many times, she hugged and comforted me. I got a first hand look at how good of a therapist she was, because she said only the bare minimum things she needed to say and prodded me on. And kept reminding me, none of this was my fault.

Finally, I got to the most difficult part of my confession. How I hacked into Mrs. Khanna's email and got the address for Parvati in Jaipur and gave it to Lallan. her face hardened the most during this, but she just nodded through it. I then told her about my troubles coping with it all, my recent day drinking, and everything.

When I finished, we were both silent for while, me sobbing, and her hugging me.

"First of all, Shikha, I am so so very sorry you have had to go through this." she moved to her chair and started talking. "In our line of work, we do have to put up with such risks. I have had a few unsavory encounters with patients and spouses over the years. But nothing that comes even close."

I wiped my tears and nodded.

"This puts me in a difficult situation." she said. "You have admitted to betraying our confidence and telling the guy the address. That would be a fire-able offense. Maybe you knew that, which is why you resigned with immediate effect."

"I am so sorry." I said.

"I understand." she nodded sympathetically. "At the same time, Shikha, given the job you have been doing all these years, surely you know...."

"Yes, yes, I know!" I said a little too loudly. "I should go to the security officer, have him locked up. I know the theory and I know the logic. But he has all these pictures and videos."

"Shikha, we can work with the cops to do our best to confiscate it all. Even if he somehow manages to forward or post it, we have ways to take it down."

"I don't think so." I said in a flat voice. "I have seen enough instances of leaked revenge porn videos and MMS sex tapes. They never go away. Once it is out there, it is out there."

"Okay, okay, I see what you mean. I cannot imagine what you are going through. I can see your compulsions. I don't agree with your decision, but I see where you're coming from." she said. "Let me ask you this, though. What is your hopeful plan going forward? That he will just leave you alone and forget it?"

I looked at her and nodded, and then said,

"I know it's not ideal. But my hope is, now that he has his wife and daughters back, he will leave me alone. It's a slim hope, but the only hope I have. And then in a few months, I will be in the US, in Stanford, and we will be getting green cards and...."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"And it won't matter anymore." she nodded. "You are counting on the innate decency of a proven psychopath rapist?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She sighed.

"Shikha, remember what we tell them?"

"You always have a choice." we said in chorus.

"I know. And I get the underlying point. In my case though...."

"Yes, in your case, it is difficult. You feel that way, sitting where you sit. But you are a qualified counselor who has worked with dozens of battered women. Now that you are one yourself..."

"No!" I spoke up.

"No?"

"Please, Nita! I am not a "battered woman" like those women. They stay in marriages, in relationships with those guys. I hate him! I loathe him!"

She just gave me a sad smile and said,

"You just told me you get drunk and masturbate re-living the..."

"That's different!" I almost yelled. I couldn't believe she was using that honest admission against me.

"How is it different?" she tenderly asked.

I sat back and sighed.

"I don't know. It just is."

Nita nodded, then made a few notes. Finally she spoke.

"Shikha, there is a lot more I would like to say. There is a lot to unpack here. But we might have shared information that is already a lot for one session. If we continue, you might get defensive and even emotionally exhausted."

I nodded. I knew the theory.

"Let's meet once a week from now on. As psychiatrist and patient. Do we have a deal?"

I nodded.

Nita got up and went to one of her cabinets on the side.

"Before you go....here is something for you." she said and walked toward me.

It was a small gun. I gasped. She continued,

"I know, you hope he will stay away. But I fear he will be back. I wish I could call the cops and have him locked up for banging you. But I promised you confidentiality. So I can't do that anymore. Unless you change your mind. In the meantime, keep this. It might help."

I took the gun and held it in my hand.

"Do you know how to...." she started saying.

"Yes, my dad was in the army. I have fired many guns." I said.

I thanked her. We said our goodbyes. She made a final entreaty to just come clean to everyone, tell the cops, and have him locked up. I told her I couldn't do that. We made an appointment for the following week. And then I left.

I went home and reached straight for the half opened bottle. But I didn't drink. Talking to Nita made me feel a lot better. I wished I had done it earlier. I put the bottle down, and went to the living room. I turned the TV on and binge watched some comedies on Netflix.

Sober. --

The next couple of days, I felt a little bit better. I was still under a cloud of gloom, but I didn't feel compelled to spend every waking moment drunk. Neither did it mean I was completely fine. I still drank myself to sleep every night. I could spend the bright daylight hours sober, but the darkness of the night brought out the darkness in my mind, and I needed the booze to help me fall asleep.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The panic and fear receded somewhat though. The small gun that Nita had given me gave me a sense of protection, almost like a safety blanket. I kept it next to the door in case Lallan came knocking some time. And I always kept it in my purse when I went out in case he ambushed me.

I still kept hoping he would stay away. But somewhere, deep down, I knew he wouldn't.

And he didn't.

I was home one evening, sober, dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, reading some psychology papers when the doorbell rang. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. And I felt a chill of terror. It was him!

"Memsaab!" I saw his face come close to the outside of the peephole. "I can see your shadow. Please open the door!"

I was terrified. I reached for the gun on the table next to the door. And then said loudly as I looked at him through the peephole,

"Go away, Lallan! You got your wife back. Leave me alone!"

I saw him smile and nod.

"Yes, yes, I did. Thank you for that." he said loudly. "I am not here to do anything to you, I promise. I am not drunk. I am sober. I just want to talk to you and apologize."

"Apology accepted. Go away!" I shouted back.

I saw him sigh and smile. He then took out his phone, played with it, and then held it against the peephole. I could see a video of us fucking in the living room couch, me riding his cock naked without any indication that I was being coerced.

"I don't want to, but I could forward this to a hundred guys right now." he said.

I gulped and stared at how I looked, riding him and moaning.

"And pretty soon, your neighbors will notice the din and come asking." he said.

"Fine!" I yelled.

I took a deep breath, held the gun in my hand, with the safety off, and opened the door. He casually pushed it and walked in.

"Wow, what? Hahaha!" he saw my gun and laughed, not looking intimidated at all.

"Lallan!" I said in a determined voice. "I don't know what you have in mind, but I will ask you to behave."

He put his hands up and smiled. As I saw his short wiry frame, shorter than me, standing a few feet away, I still wondered how he had been able to force me the way he did.

"Okay."

"What do you want?"

"I just want to talk. I promise. I really promise." he said, still smiling. "The gun isn't necessary."

"Well, it makes me feel safe." I said as he closed the door.

His face got serious.

"Memsaab, as I promised, I have not forwarded the pics or videos to the whole world." he said. "But I know you are a rich and connected woman. So I have sent them, as insurance, to a couple of friends."

I kept the gun pointed at him as I processed what he was saying, and frowned. He continued talking.

"If anything happens to me, those friends of mine will send the videos to everyone, including news channels, with the title, Social Worker Fucks Slum Woman's Husband."

I still kept the gun on him and stared at him.

"Come on, relax. Can't you tell I am sober and not angry like last time? You held up your end of the bargain. You gave me Parvati's address. I won her back. We are happy again. Really genuinely happy. I can show you videos if you allow me."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I didn't say anything as he cautiously moved his phone, pulled up a couple of videos and held them in my face. It showed Lalllan and Parvati, hugging each other and looking very happy. Then another video of a small birthday celebration for one of the girls. Another video of all of them eating food at a small restaurant. The videos did paint the picture of a happy family.

"Please, just put the gun away and we can talk, like two adults. Believe it or not, I came to apologize." he said, taking a couple of steps towards me.

"I told you, I accept your apology. Now just...." I started saying, when he suddenly lunged at me and grabbed the gun.

He wrested it away from my hands easily and pushed me away. And now I saw the gun pointed at me.

"Hahaha, memsaab, do you think this is the first time I had a gun pointed at me?"

Shit shit shit, I berated myself silently. Dad always taught us, never let the target get within arms length. I had messed up on that, distracted by his babbling. Now I feared the worst as he had a gun pointed at me.

"Please memsaab, just listen to me." he said. "Sit on that couch over there."

Sad and defeated, I walked to the couch, and sat down. I expected Lallan to plonk himself next to me. But instead he sat on the floor, still holding the gun.

"Good. Please sit. Relax. Listen to me." he said.

I just glared at him angrily.

"Don't....come on....don't look at me like that!" he said, sounding hurt. "You make me feel like a bad person. I am not a bad guy, really. And certainly don't need any guns. Here, I will show you."

I watched as he deftly unclipped the bullet magazine and took it out. Then pulled the barrel back to dislodge the bullet in the chamber, and caught it in his palm, with a fluid rhythm that showed me he knew how to handle guns. He then put the gun, the magazine, and the bullet on the table behind him. And then turned around to face me. I was sitting on the couch, looking down at him.

"What do you want, Lallan?" I said, breathless and angry.

"I told you. I came to apologize. Make amends. Explain myself." he said, sounding sincere.

"Okay."

"Listen, memsaab. Please let me say my piece, and then you can tell me if I am wrong. Okay?"

"Okay."

"That night when I came here, I was drunk and I was angry. My family had been ripped apart from me. I knew you were just doing your job, helping Parvati, pointing her in the right direction. I know the way she describes me and everything, you think I am a monster. I am not a saint, but I am not monster. I love my wife, I love my daughters, and you took them away from me. So I got drunk. And furious. And I.....over-reacted."

"Over-reacted?" I said incredulously. This man was describing a bang and battering as just an over-reaction?

"I know, I know. It was....it was too much." he said, sounding sad. "You're a brain doctor, Parvati says. So maybe you understand. There is this strange.....darkness inside me. Angry overpowering darkness. It has always been there. Since I was a kid. It just....I just....I can't control it, memsaab. Seriously. I want to. The good side of me wants to. Mostly I am a good guy. I love my wife, I love my daughters. And I respect your wisdom and your intentions. You were right in your advice to Parvati. You and she made me see the error of my ways. I decided to change. I want to change."

"Then change!" I angrily said.

"I plan to change, memsaab. And I am already changing. You want to come home right now and talk to Parvati? You can! She will tell you I have changed. No more fights, no more beatings, no more.....well...honestly.....very little drinking." he smiled.

"Okay." I said, still a little thrown by how calm and reasonable he was being.

He looked at me smiled sadly, and then stared at the floor.

"I truly genuinely want to say sorry to you for that night. I was drunk. I was angry. I was emotional. I was under the influence of that darkness I said."

"Okay." In terms of psychology, I really tried to empathize with his confession, but I couldn't.

"You think I wanted to do all that? I mean, do you think the real normal Lallan, the happy loving guy wanted to do that? I didn't. I had to do that!"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

This was too much. I angrily yelled,

"You had to bang me and beat me up????"

He seemed a little taken aback by my intensity for some reason. He stared at me for a second and then said,

"I know I have wronged you. Which is why I am here to apologize. I was just doing what I thought was necessary at that time to get my family back and keep my family together."

"Okay." I could see some logic in that, as twisted as it was.

Most of all, I was happy he was being quiet, rational, friendly, and non-violent. When he grabbed my gun, I feared the worst. Instead, he dismantled and put it away and was giving me a mea culpa. For the first time since that encounter started, I started feeling a little relieved.

"I am so sorry for all that I did. I want to tell you that. It's just this darkness inside me. Maybe you can treat me for it. It takes over. I can't control it."

"Yes, I know how hard that can be." My psychologist side took over. He was describing classic bipolar disorder syndrome.

"I am so sorry about it. It wasn't my intention to.....hurt you. I get no pleasure from it. My priority was my family, which means to me more than anything else."

"I understand." I nodded.

"So you see, it is all about keeping my family together and happy."

"Yes, I get it."

"So you forgive me?"

That was a tough question. Given whatever he had done, could I truly forgive him? But he was in my house, sitting by my feet, showing genuine contrition.

"Yes, fine, yes, I do. Happy?" I finally said.

"Thank you so much, memsaab." he said, actual tears in his eyes that he wiped away.

Lallan sat on the floor looking very sincere. I was feeling relieved that without the influence of alcohol, and with his family back together, he had come to his senses. I had not expected such an amicable end to our next encounter. But here we had it. Hopefully, we could move on, he could delete all the pics and videos on his phone and his friends' phones, and that would be the end of that.

Just as I was about to get up and show him out, he spoke again.

"There is.....one more thing I need your help with."

"What is that?"

"You know....the last time....I was drunk and in rage, but..." and he put a hand on my knee over my skirt, "it was still an amazing night."

"Lallan, please." I went red and gently moved his hand off my knee. "Let's not talk about that night again."

"But seriously...." he put his hand back, and this time gripped my knee firmly. "It was the best sex I have ever had. And I have banged a lot of women."

"Lallan...." I said, my voice rising a little. "Why are you..."

"Memsaab." he said, getting up on his knees like an eager lover, "You cannot expect me to believe you didn't enjoy it either. I was there, remember?"

"I did not enjoy it!" I said emphatically. Maybe a little too emphatically. He smiled. I tried again to move his hand away, but he did not let go.

"Your lips say one thing but I remember your body saying something else."

"Nonsense."

"The way you howled through those orgasms. The way you rode me. The way your crawled to the roof, horny. The way you locked your legs around my waist. The way your cunt..."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I yelled, tears flooding my eyes.

"The way your cunt muscles gripped my cock every time we fucked. Parvati never does that. None of my other bitches do that. It was special, memsaab!"

He put his second hand on my other knee and pushed my legs apart. I sat there in panic, dreading the bizarre turn this conversation was taking. Just when I thought he was apologetic and ready to move on. Classic bipolar behavior, a small part of my brain piped up.

"Your brain and your mouth and maybe even your heart say no. But that warm tight moist thing there." he motioned his eyes towards my crotch. "It was hungry. It was deprived. And it welcomed the satisfaction I provided. Be honest."

I started to get up and fight him off but he effortlessly pushed me back and my ass thumped back on the couch.

"Don't deny it, memsaab. I am sure your husband is a nice man. But obviously he doesn't satisfy your needs. Just like my wife is a great woman but she cannot satisfy my needs the way you did."

"YOU bangD ME, YOU ANIMAL!" I shouted in anger.

His response was to pout a little and nod.

"The first time that night, sure, I did bang you. I admit it. It was the anger and the darkness and the alcohol. You still came twice then, but yes, I did bang you." he said solemnly as if admitting to a minor infraction. "But the second time? The third, fourth, fifth, sixth times that night? That was just pure sex. After the first time, you had plenty of opportunities to run away. Or lock yourself in another room. Or even call the cops. But you didn't."

"Shut up!" I said. I did not want to admit that there was at least some truth to what he was saying.

"You were so....obedient. Be obedient again." he pushed my legs even farther apart, making my skirt slip a little.

"No!" I angrily replied.

"You are a head doctor. Diagnose yourself. Don't you think you liked what I do? And you want it again?"

"No!" I said shaking my head as my eyes teared up. "NO! NO!"

He was quiet for a few seconds and then said,

"Are you arguing with me or yourself?"

"Please leave, Lallan! Go back to your wife and leave me alone! I beg you!" I folded my hands.

"Because if I don't leave, you won't be able to resist my advances?"

He then swiftly lunged forward, so his face was inches away from mine. He tried to kiss me. I turned my face away. He grabbed my face with his right hand and pulled me into a kiss. Tobacco stench filled my nostrils. I didn't return his kiss. He broke the kiss after a minute or so, gently biting my lips before that. And then he leaned back.

I looked at the skinny intense man, staring at me from a couple of feet away, with an oddly earnest expression on his face. He was managing to sound reasonable even as he did some really nasty things to me. A far cry from the angry drunken lout of that other night.

"Do you know why I used to cheat on Parvati? Because she didn't satisfy me. So I slept around with a lot of women. Do you know why I slapped her around? The darkness inside me wanted that. But after you.....I don't need to. You might not believe it, but since that night, I have been like a saint with Parvati. Because you gave me an outlet for my darkness. That's how I want you to help me. Keep doing it, please. For my marriage. And for your own pleasure."

"Please go away, Lallan! Don't make me do this!" I was almost crying by now.

"Please be my mistress, memsaab. I am not asking for much. Maybe once a month?"

I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hands. And then his eyes flashed with anger.

"SHIKHA!" he yelled, that old menacing tone suddenly returning to his voice. And then he continued in a low seething voice. "Must I always hurt you before you see sense? You couldn't fight me when I was drunk. Now I am stone cold sober. Do you want to get slapped around again? Is that why you're resisting me?"

I started crying. He snickered and licked my tears from my cheeks.

"Give in, memsaab. For your own sake." he whispered as he kissed my lips.

"Lallan!" I said in protest.

"I am a good man deep down, I promise.I just have this darkness that needs a release. In the past, sometimes I took it out on Parvati. She is frail and simple and doesn't enjoy it. She tries to understand and accommodate, but it gets too much for her."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I remembered the times Parvati told me, it wasn't straightforward. That time I saw her bruised and she said it wasn't him beating her per se, but just something sexual.

"You though....you, memsaab, are a tall well-built energetic woman. And you like this. And your husband is abroad. You need me. I need you. This solves everything. Please, try to understand. Don't make the darkness take over."

His hands let go of mine and moved to my thighs. He started rolling my skirt up. I put my hands on my face and continued crying.

After that, things seemed to happen both in rapid motion and slow motion. My mind was crying out in protest for the next few minutes. His fingers first entered my panties. He played with my clit. Then he started pushing his fingers into my pussy. His other hand started unbuttoning my top. My tits were pulled out of my bra. His rained kisses and bites on my nipples and my stomach as his fingers started lubricating my cunt.

There was a sense of inevitability to the proceedings. I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The primal animal in me did want him. My nerve endings and synapses cried out for him.

Before I knew it, he was inside me. His mouth was on mine. We were kissing passionately. His hands mauled my boobs. I don't remember when he took off my top and bra. I don't remember when my panties ended up on the floor. All I know is, I was lying on the couch, with only my rolled up skirt as clothing, as he fucked me with deep and firm strokes. And my body was liking it.

Soon my ankles were locked around his waist. And I was exerting my thigh muscles pulling him in as deep as I could. To fill a void in me that I could no longer deny existed.

When he withdrew his dick after 10 minutes and sat down on the couch next to me, I automatically sat up. Straddled him. Returned his cock where it belonged - inside me. And was riding him. Ten minutes later, in a replay of a moment I had seen on video from the previous night, he put his arms under my knees and started getting up. I wrapped my arms around his neck tight. And then my nearly naked body dangled from this torso as he fucked me hard. Even though he was shorter and skinnier than me, he held me up suspended. The room was filled with sounds of our skins mating. My naked ass traced an arc in the air swaying back and forth. My first orgasm of the night washed over me as I hollered and bit his shoulder. He chuckled with self-satisfaction.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Ten minutes later, he put me down on the floor. I got on my hands and knees. Our bodies were in perfect harmony. I arched my back and thrust my ass out like an animal in heat. He got on his knees behind me and continued where he had left off, pounding me hard.

Then, maybe as a throwback to his rough approach last time, he placed his right foot on my head and pushed it to the floor. He hammered me like that for ten minutes bringing me to another orgasm before withdrawing. I looked back at him. He nodded and sat on the couch.

I crawled towards him. Sat on the floor with my ass on my heels. Opened my mouth. And hungrily gulped down the jizz he deposited. I swallowed it all, and went to the bathroom to pee and clean myself up.

When I came back to the living room, he demanded food. I stood in the kitchen, naked except for an apron as I cooked eggs. He sat on a chair by the dining table, naked, his dick resting in preparation for the next assault. He had helped himself to a big drink of Jack Daniels from the bar cabinet.

"I thought you gave up alcohol?" I said as I cooked.

"Not...not fully given up. Just controlling. So it doesn't....hurt......." his voice trailed off as he looked confused.

"Parvati?" I helpfully added.

"Yes, of course, Parvati."

Half an hour later. We had both finished the food. The 1 liter whiskey bottle was empty. He had finished three fourths of it. And forced me to chug the remaining quarter, neat, as I sat naked in his lap, except for the apron.

We hadn't spoken a word this whole time. I was staring at my plate, trying to come to terms with the ramifications of what was happening. The bizarre depraved agreement I had implicitly made. Why had I agreed to it? Did I even have a choice? Why did my cunt feel so warm and happy?

There was a metallic clang as I pondered these questions sitting on his lap. He had pushed his plate away and it had fallen on the ground. I looked at his face. There was rage and depravity in his eyes. Drunk Lallan re-surfaced. Eyes red. And irrational anger on his face.

He got up, staggering a little as he pushed me to the floor.

"You filthy slut!"

I was on all fours, my naked butt sticking in the air, and the apron hanging loose from my torso. I tried to stand up but he put his foot on my shoulder and pushed me down.

"You are my kutiyaa (bitch), I am your maalik. (master)" he laughed and spanked me hard.

I winced as he pulled me to my feet by my hair. He spat on my face. I struggled to stay on my feet as he dragged me to the bedroom pulling my hair.

What followed next was expected, now that he had alcohol in his system again.

"WHORE!" he yelled and slapped me. Tears sprang to my eyes. "Stand there!"

I stood in the corner. He untied my apron, rolled it up, and tried to shove it down my throat before throwing it to the ground.

"Raise your hands!"

I complied, standing there naked and sobbing, but also weirdly aroused. He went to the closet and got one of my husband's belts. He fastened it around my neck like a dog's leash. First came the slaps on my boobs until they were red. Then really hard bites on my nipple. Then three fingers were thrust up my cunt.

"Just as I thought. Wetter than a filthy kutiyaa's cunt!" he spat at me again. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes..." I whispered honestly.

Another slap.

"Speak up, bitch!"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes...........maalik." Master.

With three fingers still roughly shoved up my cunt, he grabbed my hair, pulled it, and brought his face close to mine.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"And who are you?"

"I am your filthy kutiyaa, maalik." Bitch.

"That's right!"

I was then ordered to turn around, bend over and put my hands on the wall. Then came the angry spanks on my ass. I counted. 64 on each cheek.

Then I was laid on the bed on my side, my legs folded up. Half a bottle of moisturizer was emptied on my ass. The anal assault began. I hated myself when I had three orgasms in the next fifteen minutes as he sodomized me while playing with my clit. Then it was my cunt's turn as I was made to ride him. And then fucked in the ass again doggy style until he deposited his seed inside it.

When I came back from the bathroom after a long time cleaning myself, he had opened a bottle of vodka. He pulled me on to his lap and shoved the bottle in my hand. We finished it in ten minutes.

The rest of the night was a blur again as my blood alcohol level crossed my tolerance. A dream and a nightmare. We fucked at least 3 more times that I can recall. I was slapped and spanked and spat on. The belt around my neck was tightened a few times almost to the point of choking me unconscious. And the orgasms I had probably numbered in the dozens. The more roughly he treated me, the harder I came. I hated it, but that's how it was.

I woke up to the sound of chirping birds. I opened my eyes. The sunlight stung. It took me a few moments again to realize where I was. Curled up naked on the roof of my own house, with an empty jute sack on top of me. There was a bowl of water next to me this time, like for an actual bitch. The other end of my belt leash was tied around a water pipe. I had no memory of how I ended up there. The last thing I remembered was being humped in front of the bathroom mirror at around 4 AM while he pulled on the belt.

I sat up. Untied the belt. The sun was high enough for it to be close to noon. Thankfully, Lallan had shown the mercy of putting me in a corner of the roof that couldn't be seen from the other houses around us. At least not directly. The tall buildings were a different matter. I stared at the balconies again and tried to make out if I could see any obvious viewers. I couldn't.

Once my eyes got used to the sunlight, I picked up the sack and held it in front of me to cover my nakedness. Peeked around the wall. Luckily the other roofs were still empty. I scampered through the door and started walking down the stairs. My ass hurt, my thighs hurt. My face hurt. My boobs hurt. But my cunt felt.....satisfied.

I walked downstairs gingerly in case he was still around. The house was empty.

There was a note on the kitchen table scrawled in Hindi.

"Next month."