Adultery Slave to My Indian Maid by spankedboy

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 02

The first few days after Rashida had spanked me were very surreal for me. I had a whole range of conflicting feelings going through me, and I didn't know what to make of them. The beating had caught me by total surprise – one minute I was busy stroking my penis and the next minute I was over her knees getting a thrashing like a naughty little boy. I didn't expect my maid servant of so many years to suddenly decide she had the authority to discipline me.

The overwhelming emotion was a profound sense of shame and embarrassment. I really wanted the earth to open up so I could disappear. Each time my mind played back that incident I would find myself blushing intensely. The moment when Rashida had caught me masturbating in my room. Or how quickly she had taken command of the situation by sending off our other maid, Rubina, on an errand so she could have me completely to herself. How I willingly put myself at her complete mercy.

A warm sense of humiliation would wash over me every time when I thought about how I had to kiss her feet, and how she then grabbed and twisted my ears. If you are an Indian kid, you know how demeaning it is to have your ears twisted by an older, matronly lady. And how I humbly complied with all of her orders, such as being forbidden from calling her by name, as I usually did, instead being commanded to refer to her using the respectful term "bua".

Following the incident, I could not look Rashida in the eye out of shame. During the next few days, whenever she was in the same room as me, I kept my eyes cast down, unable to meet her gaze, looking for any excuse to leave. I was embarrassed to come into her presence! Every time she was around, I felt that she was silently mocking me with her smile. There was a knowing look on her face whenever she would see me.

I could not forget how Rashida, my normally docile, obedient, timid, soft spoken maid servant, had slapped me continuously while ordering me to thank her for each slap. And how I meekly obeyed that command, and thanked her each time she slapped me, and asked for another slap! Me, her employer's son!

To add to my sense of humiliation, Rashida had then stripped me completely naked. I felt powerless to stop her as she removed every article of my clothing, one by one, until I was completely naked, and vulnerable, in her presence. Each time I recalled how I had completely submitted to her, leaving her in a position of power over me, I felt a huge feeling of embarrassment. Like I was nothing. Or perhaps the reason I could not meet her gaze was because I had completely lost any respect she had for me. I was someone she used to lovingly call "baba" – now I was a boy she had placed on her lap for a severe paddling.

That had been over three weeks ago.

I could also not ignore another massive emotion that surfaced in addition to my acute sense of shame.

Arousal. Yes, arousal.

Every time I thought about how my chubby maid servant had calmly placed me over her knees, across her lap and had struck me, again and again, with a ruler, I also felt myself getting stimulated. And when I recalled how, to add to my chastening, Rashida made me count and thank her for each beating, it would leave me quite hard. Every time I thought about how she had tanned my bottom, I felt a deep urge to cum.

So there it was. I was deeply ashamed and extremely embarrassed that my maid servant – for so long the object of my fantasies – had punished me like an errant college boy. One would think, given my class and my background that I was superior to her, yet she had caught me by the ear and put me firmly in my place!

Each time I thought about how I had been punished by her, when I could have just broken free, yet how I found myself unable to do so, I felt I had already accepted the situation. For that brief time, I knew I couldn't do anything but obey her like a slave. In this huge house where my father, mother and the two maids lived, along with me, Rashida and I shared a naughty secret. A secret that between ourselves, for that one day she had stopped being my maid and I had become her slave.

And that fact was strangely also highly stimulating for me. So stimulating, in fact, that I was in a constant state of arousal.

After a few days, particularly with my parents around the house, I tried to forget my humiliating beating at her hands. It was just a one-time thing, I tried to convince myself. I was horny, and my maid had taken advantage of me. It won't happen again, I promised to myself. So almost a month later, one day as we were all sitting down to lunch, I deliberately called Rashida by her name, which she had warned me not to do when she had spanked me. During this last month, I had barely talked to her.

"Rashida! Can I get some water?" I asked, raising my glass.

"Yes, of course, baba!" She ran to fill my glass, just like any good Indian maid would.

And so it began. For the next month or so, Rashida behaved just like a normal maid, even when my parents were away. I deliberately called her by her name, with no blowback. She would make the bed, dust and clean the rooms, prepare the food and do the menial tasks a maid should. She also left me alone. I had almost forgotten that the same plump, buxom maid who was sweeping my floor had taken me across her lap and had given me a sound thrashing almost two months ago.

college was progressing well. It was my final year, so I was busy with college prep exams as well as the cricket team. I didn't have to worry; I already had an acceptance letter from a prestigious university – that's what coming from a rich and politically connected family does for you in India.

In the afternoons, when I would be returning home from college, my father would still be at his business while my mother, who ran an important NGO, would be in her office. It was just Rashida, me and our other maid Rubina in the house for a few hours, every day.