Adultery My Struggles with Trupti by urbanslut

[Ramesh_Rocky]

My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 01

There I sat, naked and bound to a chair. The rope was tightly bound over my boobs, digging into my nipples, hurting them, making my massive boobs look like four globes instead of two. A rope ran over my crotch too, digging into my labia, rubbing against my clit, creating a painful yet pleasant sensation.

Trupti stood a few feet away from me. Also completely naked. Not completely naked. She was wearing high heels. And she had a knife in her hands. Smiling that manic smile. Her tits, as big as mine, standing confidently taut.

"Why won't you just give in?" she asked, striding close to me, and placing the tip of the knife between my boobs.

"I can't." I say. "I wasn't raised like that."

"That's what's stopping you? How you were raised?" Trupti threw her head back and laughed. She then brought her face close to mine and said, "For fuck's sake. Can't you see we're on the edge of something important here?"

"It's still wrong." I said.

I closed my eyes and struggled to free myself from the restraints. I knew that if I tried hard enough, I could go free. I just wasn't trying hard enough. Maybe if I tried to distract her.

"Wrong, huh?" Trupti said, and threw the knife on the floor. She then held up her right index finger and smiled at me. She decided to distract me.

"No, please don't." I implored.

"You know you like it." she said and bent in the waist in front of me.

"Please..." I said, now feebly, as Trupti's fingers slid under the rope, and found my clit. Accurately. Instantly. The way only she could. The way no one else could.

"You know you want more." she whispered in my ear.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh..." I moaned in response to what her fingers were doing.

"You know we have to do this." she said, rubbing faster.

"Mmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhh..." I groaned.

"Can't do this without you. I would've done it myself but you know it isn't possible anymore." Trupti said and her fingers went into overdrive.

And I could sense that despite not wanting to, I was about to orgasm. And I would, in all probability, join her in the plan. And help her finish it. Because I did start it with her.

But how did it start?

====

Six months ago. Friday afternoon. I am looking over a Pottery Pen catalog under my desk when Jan walks in.

"Busy, huh?" she cattily says, eyeing the catalog as I stuff it into a drawer.

"Sorry, Jan."

"You're being paid for your time here, you know?" she says, sliding into the chair opposite me.

"Yes, I was just..."

"I don't care what you were just." Jan coldly says. "You need to realize that as women in this field, we have a higher standard to live up to."

"Yes, Jan." I say, staring at my hands.

"Particularly, someone like you, from a foreign country. You should know better than to drool over catalogs during company time."

"Sorry Jan."

Jan shakes her head in disappointment and reaches into her bag.

"Anyway, you have to go to Baltimore tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Jan? But tomorrow is a Saturday and..."

"And what? It's not like you have a boyfriend or anything." she derisively says. "Go to Baltimore, meet with the Starlight folks, and sell them on our new financial services bundle."

"Ok, Jan." I meekly say.

"Make sure you take a bus. It's just a couple of hours away. No flights or Acela Express."

"But Jan, the travel policy allows me..."

"Doesn't matter what the travel policy allows you. It finally gets counted under my budget. Why do you want to waste an hour getting to La Guardia, then an hour checking in and waiting, then another hour flying to Baltimore when in the same time, a bus can get you there? For a tenth of the price? We all need to tighten our belts."

"But Jan, at least a train will..."

"Don't be such a prissy princess! Take a bus! And stay in a motel this time, not some fancy Marriott. We're still technically in a recession." she admonishes me. "You should embrace austerity. You come from a poor country."

"Jan please... I hate buses..." I say, feeling sick at the thought of being in a bus. "Let me take a train. I don't need the Acela. Even a regular Amtrak will..."

"What's there to hate about buses?"

I just stare at my desk silently, unable to articulate my morbid abhorrence of buses.

"Maybe buses in India are shitty. Buses here are nice. You must take a bus! Show some discipline, for cryin' out loud!"

I feel like saying to her - you bitch, you fly business class and stay in five star hotels whenever you travel. And I am the one who has to talk to all the clients into closure. So why should I have to take a ratty bus and stay in a dingy motel? But instead I say,

"Yes, Jan."

Jan pushes the Starlight file towards me, gets up, and walks away. After she leaves, I wait for a few minutes. Then defiantly reach for the Pottery Pen catalog. And order some new sheets for my bedroom. And then, I immerse myself in the Starlight file.

Is this why I slogged through high college and then college in India? Worked extra hard to get into an American grad college with full funding, because my parents couldn't afford to pay the full tuition? Got a job on Wall Street? To be pushed around by another woman, who kept implying all the time how, by being Indian, I was somehow inferior to her Caucasian self?

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