16-03-2019, 02:57 PM
Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 06
My bum is used teach my maid spanking, with a surprise ending - Tarek.
"Tarek!" My name rang loudly through the house. "Tarek! Can you come to the kitchen?"
Immediately I put down the book I was reading and stood up. If my maid Rashida called me, I did not want to delay in obeying her.
"Yes, bua." I called out, using the respectful term 'bua' for my maid Rashida. "I am coming."
Not knowing what the urgency was, I ran to the kitchen.
Rashida was chopping some vegetables, with her back to me. I looked at our maid, and her big, fleshy buttocks jiggling against the fabric of her sari as she moved around. Each time she chopped vegetable, her large buttocks wiggled. Rashida was our older maid servant who had been with us ever since I was a toddler of three. At thirty tree, soon to turn thirty four, she was one chubby lady, but she filled out at the right places. I could see her exposed fleshy waist as her sari was wrapped carelessly around her body.
If you had read my story so far, you know we were a rich Urdu-speaking family residing then in Kolkata. My father was a successful businessman and my mother was on the board of many organizations. I had just turned nineteen. This was February, and come summer I would start going to a prestigious university right here in Kolkata. We lived in a huge mansion, and had two Bengali maid servants. Rashida was one of them. The other - Rubina - was nowhere to be seen. Right now, my parents were out on work - and I knew there was a grand party at night at our place. Right now though, it was just me and the maids at home.
"Baba! Ah! There you are." Rashida turned around and saw me. She wiped her hands on the pallu of her saari and then beckoned at me. "Come here, Tarek."
Obediently I walked forward until I was right in front of her. I could see her breasts rise and fall as she huffed and puffed, due to her grueling kitchen work. I wondered why she had called me, and what I had done.
"Are you wearing an underwear, baba?"
"No, bua." I answered truthfully. "All I am wearing is a t-shirt and pajama, bua."
"Hmm." Rashida pursed her lips. "I want to see if you are telling the truth."
"Yes, bua." I replied, knowing what was to come.
Rashida reached out with one hand and pulled the drawstring of my pajamas slightly, to create a little gap. She then inserted her other hand into the space, into my pajamas. Groping, she brushed against my balls, before wrapping her fingers around my dick. She stroked my dick a couple of times.
"I can see you are telling the truth." My maid servant declared. Her hands rested on my balls.
The whole scene brutally demonstrated her dominance of me. There was no deference paid to my sense of dignity or self-respect. In broad daylight, in the kitchen of in my own house, my maid servant was examining my privates while I stood there helplessly and let her molest me.
"Baba, why don't you wear underwear?"
It was a rhetorical question, but I knew I had to answer it if I didn't want Rashida slapping me.
"Because, bua, you ordered me never to wear underwear in the house again."
"Why, baba?" Rashida gently kneaded one testicle before switching to the other.
"So that, bua, whenever you want, you can just pull my pants down and give me a spanking."
"Correct!" Rashida announced. "And that time is now. Baba, this morning you left the toilet seat up, and I could see your pee on the seat."
"I am so sorry, bua. It won't happen again, I promise."
Rashida held both of my balls in her hand and gave them a little tug.
"You said that the last time I punished you, baba, and the time before. AND the time before."
"I am very sorry, bua. I just forgot. Please forgive me, bua."
"Baba, bring that chair over here." Rashida ordered, releasing my genitals from her hands. I turned to where she pointed, and picked up a small but study wooden chair from the hallway, and placed it against the wall of the kitchen.
Again, if you have been following my story, you know why my maid servant (who is in my employment) was punishing me, and how I had allowed her to build a hold over me. For the last half a year or so, every Monday and Thursday, long after everyone had gone to sleep, like an obedient puppy I would report to Rashida's room. I would knock on the door, be allowed permission to come in, and then walk over to a corner of the room. Completely bereft of respectability, I would then undress completely. These were all Rashida's strict orders.
My bum is used teach my maid spanking, with a surprise ending - Tarek.
"Tarek!" My name rang loudly through the house. "Tarek! Can you come to the kitchen?"
Immediately I put down the book I was reading and stood up. If my maid Rashida called me, I did not want to delay in obeying her.
"Yes, bua." I called out, using the respectful term 'bua' for my maid Rashida. "I am coming."
Not knowing what the urgency was, I ran to the kitchen.
Rashida was chopping some vegetables, with her back to me. I looked at our maid, and her big, fleshy buttocks jiggling against the fabric of her sari as she moved around. Each time she chopped vegetable, her large buttocks wiggled. Rashida was our older maid servant who had been with us ever since I was a toddler of three. At thirty tree, soon to turn thirty four, she was one chubby lady, but she filled out at the right places. I could see her exposed fleshy waist as her sari was wrapped carelessly around her body.
If you had read my story so far, you know we were a rich Urdu-speaking family residing then in Kolkata. My father was a successful businessman and my mother was on the board of many organizations. I had just turned nineteen. This was February, and come summer I would start going to a prestigious university right here in Kolkata. We lived in a huge mansion, and had two Bengali maid servants. Rashida was one of them. The other - Rubina - was nowhere to be seen. Right now, my parents were out on work - and I knew there was a grand party at night at our place. Right now though, it was just me and the maids at home.
"Baba! Ah! There you are." Rashida turned around and saw me. She wiped her hands on the pallu of her saari and then beckoned at me. "Come here, Tarek."
Obediently I walked forward until I was right in front of her. I could see her breasts rise and fall as she huffed and puffed, due to her grueling kitchen work. I wondered why she had called me, and what I had done.
"Are you wearing an underwear, baba?"
"No, bua." I answered truthfully. "All I am wearing is a t-shirt and pajama, bua."
"Hmm." Rashida pursed her lips. "I want to see if you are telling the truth."
"Yes, bua." I replied, knowing what was to come.
Rashida reached out with one hand and pulled the drawstring of my pajamas slightly, to create a little gap. She then inserted her other hand into the space, into my pajamas. Groping, she brushed against my balls, before wrapping her fingers around my dick. She stroked my dick a couple of times.
"I can see you are telling the truth." My maid servant declared. Her hands rested on my balls.
The whole scene brutally demonstrated her dominance of me. There was no deference paid to my sense of dignity or self-respect. In broad daylight, in the kitchen of in my own house, my maid servant was examining my privates while I stood there helplessly and let her molest me.
"Baba, why don't you wear underwear?"
It was a rhetorical question, but I knew I had to answer it if I didn't want Rashida slapping me.
"Because, bua, you ordered me never to wear underwear in the house again."
"Why, baba?" Rashida gently kneaded one testicle before switching to the other.
"So that, bua, whenever you want, you can just pull my pants down and give me a spanking."
"Correct!" Rashida announced. "And that time is now. Baba, this morning you left the toilet seat up, and I could see your pee on the seat."
"I am so sorry, bua. It won't happen again, I promise."
Rashida held both of my balls in her hand and gave them a little tug.
"You said that the last time I punished you, baba, and the time before. AND the time before."
"I am very sorry, bua. I just forgot. Please forgive me, bua."
"Baba, bring that chair over here." Rashida ordered, releasing my genitals from her hands. I turned to where she pointed, and picked up a small but study wooden chair from the hallway, and placed it against the wall of the kitchen.
Again, if you have been following my story, you know why my maid servant (who is in my employment) was punishing me, and how I had allowed her to build a hold over me. For the last half a year or so, every Monday and Thursday, long after everyone had gone to sleep, like an obedient puppy I would report to Rashida's room. I would knock on the door, be allowed permission to come in, and then walk over to a corner of the room. Completely bereft of respectability, I would then undress completely. These were all Rashida's strict orders.
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