11-02-2019, 01:12 PM
That was the first thing I did. It was the culmination of my anger and the feeling of abhorrence to this dirty low class man. He simply digested my slap on his cheek and clenched his teeth. I ignored that and quickly dbangd my sari that was on the bed on my naked body. It seemed as if I was being naked for ages and felt so soothing in the cover of the sari!
Servant: Madam, you go to the toilet and I will say that you have gone to latrine and will pretend to clean the room.
Me: Say whatever you like. Now just turn back you rascal.
The man was looking so frustrated that he could not screw me and his jaws were hanging down. I wasted not a second and again put on my panty and wore my bra.
Knock! Knock!
I pushed the man towards the door for a reply and quickly took my sari, blouse and petticoat and ran into the toilet.
Servant: Shilpa didi, one second, let me open the door.
The man opened the door and Shilpa did not inquire much, especially why the door was locked, and after some moments I also came out of the bathroom and found that Shilpa was alone in the room and there was no trace of that filthy person.
Shilpa: Aunty, how long will mom take to finish?
Me: I am not sure. Must be in the last stages. Soon you will be called.
She had brought some magazines, which she handed over to me and she switched on the TV and started watching a film channel where movie songs were being played. I simply was unable to concentrate on the magazines and time and again my experience with their servant was coming to my mind. I never thought that coming with Guru-ji to help him out in Mr. Yadav’s house would turn out to be such a horrifying and dishonoring experience for me. It was the same disgracing experience that I used to have when I returned from college in rickshaw with our servant. Those days also when I was abundantly groped I had to keep dumb, and today also when I was almost bangd I have to keep dumb – such is the situation!
As Shilpa watched television and I turned the pages of the magazine with a blank look on my face after what I had, I vividly remember those days when I returned from college in hand pulled rickshaws. Our servant who was middle aged used to come to take me from college. Previously we used to walk the length from college to my house, but when I was in Class IX or X, my mom arranged a rickshaw to take me and our servant would guard me. My mom’s logic was I was grown up then and the locality was also not good as boys used to throw comments to passing girls and so it was safer for me to ride the rickshaw. But little did she knew that the road romeos would only tease with comments, but the arrangement she made would craft me more ‘grown up’!
Initially it all started okay, but as days went by and monsoon season came, things turned out of very uncomfortable for me. As it rained during that part of the year, all the rickshaws in our locality used a polythene cover from the hood on the passenger’s head till the footboard of the rickshaw so that when the passengers take the seat they are fully covered at the front from rain though the sides remained open. No exception was there in the rickshaw, which I took from college to my house and when the first day I sat in the rickshaw with rain falling I realized the intimacy one might have under the covers. Our servant’s name was Natwar and on the first couple of days he was sitting on the rickshaw seat almost glued to my body as raindrops were coming from the sides. I did not mind, as that was quite natural I thought.
Usually I held my bag on my lap while I sat on the rickshaw, but soon I noticed Natwar was almost compelling me to give the bag to him on the rickshaw giving various reasons, such as the heaviness of the bag, my relaxation, etc. I did not agree to him not due to anything else, but for a pure womanly reason. It is our natural tendency that if we are wearing anything which is not covering our legs fully, like a skirt or a mini ghagra, we tend to keep our bag on our lap just as a safety feeling also ensuring a double cover at our most delicate region, otherwise we would have to keep our hands on our thighs which would actually look somewhat indecent. But I found Natwar’s pleading was getting more intense by the day and especially on Fridays!
Truthfully at that age it was not possible for me to guess his dirty intentions. Actually on Fridays we had PT classes in college and I used to wear my PT dress, which was the same skirt and top, but the skirt length was very short and almost half my regular day college skirt. Since ours was a girls’ college we did not have any problems in college regarding upskirt and all, but still we had to be careful on road as the PT skirt material was very light and if there was a strong wind many a times it raised and exposed our panties if we were unmindful. My mom always alerted me on this on Fridays. I had friends in co-ed colleges where they had the same short PT skirts, but with have a split like a bermuda, but since ours was not a co-ed college, the authority probably did not pay much attention to this aspect.
I was thus quite reluctant to hand over Natwar my collegebag, as when I sat the skirt raised so much that it exposed till the midway of my smooth hairless thighs. But my resistance had to fail one day in the monsoon season. Till such time it was only sitting close, or very close, side-by-side in the rickshaw due to the rain, but that day he first pawed me.
That Friday when I was getting out of the college it was already raining heavily. I was under the umbrella and as I climbed the rickshaw, I had to hand over my bag to Natwar who was already sitting on the rickshaw seat. He took my bag and gave his hand and lifted me up. The rickshaw puller immediately covered the front of us very securely with the polythene cloth and today as the rain was very heavy Natwar told him to cover the sides also. Within moments I was sitting with our male servant as if in a closed room as we were guarded by the polythene from the front as well as from the sides. The incessant chattering sound of the rain falling on the cover could be heard.
Me: Natwar Bhaiya, you don’t take the trouble, I can carry my bag.
Natwar: No, no Baby. Today let me carry it. It has added weight as its wet.
He used to call me ‘Baby’ and I thought he was telling the truth, as my bag was already pretty wet.
Me: Okay Natwar Bhaiya, today you carry it.
I smiled and I noticed he had held the bag on his lap in a peculiar fashion and looked very much like Swami Vivekanand with folded arms on his chest and my collegebag within that. I laughed in my mind seeing his gesture. Very soon the polythene at the two sides of the rickshaw gave way and raindrops were drenching both of us. I had to shift to our servant’s side a bit more and he did the same too and as a result the tip of his folded arm was now directly touching my small but erect boobs. Those days I had started wearing brassieres and my boobs were growing into a nice round shape and with each jerk of the hand pulled rickshaw, I felt Natwar’s fingers were brushing my left boob as he was sitting to my left. I honestly did not mind this act and thought it was a situational incident.
As the rickshaw left the main road and took the alley, its speed dropped as the lane was not an asphalt road and the jerking was more severe, more so as the lane was already water logged. I was holing the hood sticks of the rickshaw with my right hand and kept my left hand as a cover to my exposed thigh and now due to the continuous wobbling effect of the rickshaw I could feel Natwar’s folded hand constantly touching and brushing my left boob over my top and bra. This went on for the whole journey and when I reached home, I realized that I was not feeling ‘normal’. Though my mom was more concerned about how much I was wet, but I felt my nipples standing very upright within my bra.
This was the beginning and on other rainy days this was the routine more or less, but Natwar behaved so normally on sunny days, I dared to think anything negative about him. On another rainy day, he allowed me to carry my bag, obviously that wasn’t a Friday, and as the rickshaw proceeded off my college rains started coming from the sides and my top and skirt were getting wet. I had to shift closer to him and he today in turn kept his right hand at my back on top of the rickshaw seat. It was such a normal thing that I did not even notice it, till on a sudden jerk I leant on him and he almost embraced me with his right hand. I tried to readjust, but in vain.
As the rains were coming continuously from the sides, I had to get very close to Natwar’s body and in the course I felt our servant’s hand first on my shoulder, then as the rickshaw jerked, it slipped to my arm, and then with another sway it was near my waist and that day when I was getting down of the rickshaw, he actually pawed my ass cheeks as if to help me get down. Till such time it was within my tolerance level and ignored most of it and did not mind at all except for one or two deliberate touches. But as days proceeded I realized this low class uneducated man was taking advantage of my helpless situation on the rickshaw. The last two days made me so disturbed and disgraced that I had to quit the rickshaw drives back from college.
I distinctly remember it was a Thursday-Friday combination and it was raining quite heavily out of monsoon. On Thursday we walked down to the rickshaw under umbrellas and our rickshaw puller had already applied the polythene sheet and as usual he climbed the rickshaw first and then asked for my bag. I handed him over the bag.
Servant: Madam, you go to the toilet and I will say that you have gone to latrine and will pretend to clean the room.
Me: Say whatever you like. Now just turn back you rascal.
The man was looking so frustrated that he could not screw me and his jaws were hanging down. I wasted not a second and again put on my panty and wore my bra.
Knock! Knock!
I pushed the man towards the door for a reply and quickly took my sari, blouse and petticoat and ran into the toilet.
Servant: Shilpa didi, one second, let me open the door.
The man opened the door and Shilpa did not inquire much, especially why the door was locked, and after some moments I also came out of the bathroom and found that Shilpa was alone in the room and there was no trace of that filthy person.
Shilpa: Aunty, how long will mom take to finish?
Me: I am not sure. Must be in the last stages. Soon you will be called.
She had brought some magazines, which she handed over to me and she switched on the TV and started watching a film channel where movie songs were being played. I simply was unable to concentrate on the magazines and time and again my experience with their servant was coming to my mind. I never thought that coming with Guru-ji to help him out in Mr. Yadav’s house would turn out to be such a horrifying and dishonoring experience for me. It was the same disgracing experience that I used to have when I returned from college in rickshaw with our servant. Those days also when I was abundantly groped I had to keep dumb, and today also when I was almost bangd I have to keep dumb – such is the situation!
As Shilpa watched television and I turned the pages of the magazine with a blank look on my face after what I had, I vividly remember those days when I returned from college in hand pulled rickshaws. Our servant who was middle aged used to come to take me from college. Previously we used to walk the length from college to my house, but when I was in Class IX or X, my mom arranged a rickshaw to take me and our servant would guard me. My mom’s logic was I was grown up then and the locality was also not good as boys used to throw comments to passing girls and so it was safer for me to ride the rickshaw. But little did she knew that the road romeos would only tease with comments, but the arrangement she made would craft me more ‘grown up’!
Initially it all started okay, but as days went by and monsoon season came, things turned out of very uncomfortable for me. As it rained during that part of the year, all the rickshaws in our locality used a polythene cover from the hood on the passenger’s head till the footboard of the rickshaw so that when the passengers take the seat they are fully covered at the front from rain though the sides remained open. No exception was there in the rickshaw, which I took from college to my house and when the first day I sat in the rickshaw with rain falling I realized the intimacy one might have under the covers. Our servant’s name was Natwar and on the first couple of days he was sitting on the rickshaw seat almost glued to my body as raindrops were coming from the sides. I did not mind, as that was quite natural I thought.
Usually I held my bag on my lap while I sat on the rickshaw, but soon I noticed Natwar was almost compelling me to give the bag to him on the rickshaw giving various reasons, such as the heaviness of the bag, my relaxation, etc. I did not agree to him not due to anything else, but for a pure womanly reason. It is our natural tendency that if we are wearing anything which is not covering our legs fully, like a skirt or a mini ghagra, we tend to keep our bag on our lap just as a safety feeling also ensuring a double cover at our most delicate region, otherwise we would have to keep our hands on our thighs which would actually look somewhat indecent. But I found Natwar’s pleading was getting more intense by the day and especially on Fridays!
Truthfully at that age it was not possible for me to guess his dirty intentions. Actually on Fridays we had PT classes in college and I used to wear my PT dress, which was the same skirt and top, but the skirt length was very short and almost half my regular day college skirt. Since ours was a girls’ college we did not have any problems in college regarding upskirt and all, but still we had to be careful on road as the PT skirt material was very light and if there was a strong wind many a times it raised and exposed our panties if we were unmindful. My mom always alerted me on this on Fridays. I had friends in co-ed colleges where they had the same short PT skirts, but with have a split like a bermuda, but since ours was not a co-ed college, the authority probably did not pay much attention to this aspect.
I was thus quite reluctant to hand over Natwar my collegebag, as when I sat the skirt raised so much that it exposed till the midway of my smooth hairless thighs. But my resistance had to fail one day in the monsoon season. Till such time it was only sitting close, or very close, side-by-side in the rickshaw due to the rain, but that day he first pawed me.
That Friday when I was getting out of the college it was already raining heavily. I was under the umbrella and as I climbed the rickshaw, I had to hand over my bag to Natwar who was already sitting on the rickshaw seat. He took my bag and gave his hand and lifted me up. The rickshaw puller immediately covered the front of us very securely with the polythene cloth and today as the rain was very heavy Natwar told him to cover the sides also. Within moments I was sitting with our male servant as if in a closed room as we were guarded by the polythene from the front as well as from the sides. The incessant chattering sound of the rain falling on the cover could be heard.
Me: Natwar Bhaiya, you don’t take the trouble, I can carry my bag.
Natwar: No, no Baby. Today let me carry it. It has added weight as its wet.
He used to call me ‘Baby’ and I thought he was telling the truth, as my bag was already pretty wet.
Me: Okay Natwar Bhaiya, today you carry it.
I smiled and I noticed he had held the bag on his lap in a peculiar fashion and looked very much like Swami Vivekanand with folded arms on his chest and my collegebag within that. I laughed in my mind seeing his gesture. Very soon the polythene at the two sides of the rickshaw gave way and raindrops were drenching both of us. I had to shift to our servant’s side a bit more and he did the same too and as a result the tip of his folded arm was now directly touching my small but erect boobs. Those days I had started wearing brassieres and my boobs were growing into a nice round shape and with each jerk of the hand pulled rickshaw, I felt Natwar’s fingers were brushing my left boob as he was sitting to my left. I honestly did not mind this act and thought it was a situational incident.
As the rickshaw left the main road and took the alley, its speed dropped as the lane was not an asphalt road and the jerking was more severe, more so as the lane was already water logged. I was holing the hood sticks of the rickshaw with my right hand and kept my left hand as a cover to my exposed thigh and now due to the continuous wobbling effect of the rickshaw I could feel Natwar’s folded hand constantly touching and brushing my left boob over my top and bra. This went on for the whole journey and when I reached home, I realized that I was not feeling ‘normal’. Though my mom was more concerned about how much I was wet, but I felt my nipples standing very upright within my bra.
This was the beginning and on other rainy days this was the routine more or less, but Natwar behaved so normally on sunny days, I dared to think anything negative about him. On another rainy day, he allowed me to carry my bag, obviously that wasn’t a Friday, and as the rickshaw proceeded off my college rains started coming from the sides and my top and skirt were getting wet. I had to shift closer to him and he today in turn kept his right hand at my back on top of the rickshaw seat. It was such a normal thing that I did not even notice it, till on a sudden jerk I leant on him and he almost embraced me with his right hand. I tried to readjust, but in vain.
As the rains were coming continuously from the sides, I had to get very close to Natwar’s body and in the course I felt our servant’s hand first on my shoulder, then as the rickshaw jerked, it slipped to my arm, and then with another sway it was near my waist and that day when I was getting down of the rickshaw, he actually pawed my ass cheeks as if to help me get down. Till such time it was within my tolerance level and ignored most of it and did not mind at all except for one or two deliberate touches. But as days proceeded I realized this low class uneducated man was taking advantage of my helpless situation on the rickshaw. The last two days made me so disturbed and disgraced that I had to quit the rickshaw drives back from college.
I distinctly remember it was a Thursday-Friday combination and it was raining quite heavily out of monsoon. On Thursday we walked down to the rickshaw under umbrellas and our rickshaw puller had already applied the polythene sheet and as usual he climbed the rickshaw first and then asked for my bag. I handed him over the bag.
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