Adultery Slave to My Indian Maid by spankedboy

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Baba, I want you to count again. Just start counting from one, and keep going. What I want you to do is that with each number, I want you to think about what happened here today, Tarek. And how you could have prevented it. And about where you find yourself now."

"Yes, bua."

"Start, baba."

I stood in the corner, naked, humiliated after being beaten by Rubina with a ruler and slapped by Rashida, and started to count.

"One."

"Two."

The whole ignominy of the situation began to hit me, even as I counted up. Here I was, completely stark naked, standing in my kitchen, in the corner, after having been flogged mercilessly by her and my other maid. I, their master and their employer, was constantly utterly humiliated by them on a regular basis.

"Nine."

"Ten."

My maids held me in utter contempt. They were my maids! They should be respecting me, fearing me, trembling before me! Instead, they laugh at me, scorn me, and never lose the chance to mock my manhood. They strip me naked as they wish, and punish me as they want. They hold my penis in their hands, stroke me, and make fun of me when I get hard.

"Fifteen."

"Sixteen."

I have a huge fascination for Rashida, I admit. I love her. I really do. This amazing, powerful woman occupied my thoughts constantly. I was in awe of her, and how she commanded respect and authority from me. I just wished that she also loved me back similarly.

But in the last one and half years, I had been humiliated by her in every way possible. Not only had Rashida slapped me, spanked me, caned me, whipped me, she had also demeaned me in other ways. I had been spit upon by her. She disdainfully looked me in the eye and spit on my face, and then I had to thank her for it. I had willingly drunk her urine, lying on the cold floor of the washroom as she passed water on me. I had hoped it would show her how much devoted I was to her, yet it only furthered her scorn for me.

"Twenty three."

"Twenty four."

I began to cry. I guess I began to grasp the whole situation then. My maids treated me like their own personal slave boy.

"What's the matter, baba?" Rashida stood behind me and tenderly rubbed my sore buttocks. "Why are you crying?"

"I ... I ..." I began to sob.

"Hush. It's OK." Rashida wrapped her arms from behind me. Her arms went around to my front and hugged me around my tummy. "It's OK. Um ... don't stop counting, baba."

"Y-y-yes, bua." I sniffed. "Twenty five. Twenty six."

"Now tell me why you are crying, baba." Rashida's voice was gentle, comforting. I felt warmth in her embrace, even though my caboose was rubbing against her sari, making my pain sting more. "And keep counting."

"Twenty seven. Bua, I just realized just how low I have fallen in your eyes. Twenty eight. You ... and choto bua ... punished me today very severely, bua. Twenty nine."

"Now, now, baba." Rashida, hugging me from behind, softly rubbed my tummy. "Whose fault was it today, baba, that you got punished?"

"Mine, b-b-bua." I told her, in between my sobs. "Thirty. I-i-i really should have t-t-t-taken my studies more s-s-s-seriously, bua."

"There, there." Rashida patted my tummy. Her hands lingered, only briefly, on my genitals, before she raised her hands and caught me by my shoulders. Holding me firmly, she made me turn around, so I was now once again facing her. One look at her comforting, matronly face, and I couldn't hold myself. I threw my arms around her in a hug, buried my face in her bosom and started to bawl.

"It's OK. It's OK." Rashida's hands stroked my back, and patted my bum. "You have learned your lesson for today, baba."

"T-t-thank you, bua."

Rashida continued to soothe me and pat me as I calmed down. After some time, I stopped sniffling and whimpering, and realized I was still hugging Rashida. My arms were around her waist, resting on her bare skin.

"I am sorry, bua." I told her, dropping my arms. "I don't know what came over me."

Rashida smiled at me.

"It's OK, Tarek. Remember, we maids do punish you. We are hard with you. We are strict with you. But we do love you, baba. You are a very good little slave boy."

"Thank you, bua." I was genuinely comforted. "I love you too."

Rashida's hands then went down my back and to my behind. She squeezed a butt cheek. I yelped - my ass was still sore from my caning. Rashida ignored my feeble protests and continued to feel and grope my keister.

"Baba." She remarked. "Your tush is still smarting from Rubina's smacking?"

"Er ... yes, bua."

"But you know you needed that, didn't you, baba?" Rashida asked. "I love you, but you had to be punished to learn your lesson. And the lesson is that until we say it, your punishment is NOT over. We decide, not you."

"Yes, bua. May I ask a question, bua?"

"Yes, you may." Rashida's hands were now patting and caressing my smarting derriere. "What's your question?"