19-03-2019, 01:27 PM
Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 09
My maids make me their personal maid and chore slave -- Tarek
I would like to thank Ms. AT Khan for reviewing the story and providing lots of feedback, and JonB1969 for editing the first edition. - Tarek
*
"Tell me the truth, baba!" Rashida, my maid, held my left ear firmly in her right hand, giving it a painful twist. "Did you, or did you not, switch off the oven as I had ordered?"
"Bua, bua ... ow!" I yelped as she twisted my ear again, and my head swiveled at her pull. "I am sorry, I ..."
Rashida let go of my ear, and raised her right hand. I grimaced, for I knew what was coming.
SLAP!
"One!" I counted dutifully. "I am sorry, bua. I really am! Please slap me again."
Here was I, the twenty year old son of one of the most powerful businessman in Kolkata, and not only was I taking orders from my older, buxom, chubby and now very angry maid servant Rashida, but she was now slapping my cheeks and punishing me for failing to carry out her orders. And for some frightening reason, I kept feeling as if I was forgetting something else as well.
SLAP!
"Two! I am sorry, bua." I mumbled, as my face flushed a bright red, partly from my servant's slaps, partly from shame as she was slapping me in front of our other servant. "I am really very sorry."
SLAP!
"I don't like liars," Rashida announced, her face stoic. "I gave you ONE simple task. Turn off the oven in 8 minutes. If you forgot to do that, at least be a man and admit it. I would have slapped you once or twice and that would be it. But then you lied to me! Did you think we wouldn't find out?"
SLAP!
"Four! Bua," I tried to plead my case, as always using the respectful term 'bua' to address my maid. "I should not have lied. Please forgive me."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"You have never lied to me like this before, baba," Rashida admonished me in between her slaps.
"Yes, bua." I tried to have a very contrite look, but it wasn't going well. And then there was the nagging feeling that I was forgetting another order -- something the maids haven't figured out yet, but would soon will -- and for the life of me I could not remember what that order was!
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"You will start your second year of university, in August, in less than a month. I have been punishing you for two years now."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"Baba, whenever I had asked you if you had done something wrong, you had always admitted it and taken your punishment. This is unacceptable."
"Yes, bua."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Nearby, our other maid Rubina stood by, silently watching my humiliation, with a sly grin on her face, as Rashida continued to slap me alternately on each cheek. Rubina had reason to be smug, of course. Whereas Rashida was much older, Rubina was my age. In fact, she was younger than me by some months. A few years ago, she was just a mere maid from a poor Bengali family, happy at the chance for employment at a rich, Urdu-speaking, business family's house where the pay was great and the work load not too much. She was a shy and demure girl who would tremble at my orders.
And now she wouldn't let go of a chance to strip me naked, put me across her lap and give me a beating with her slippers. Oh, how the chappals have turned! The fact that she was younger than me, and yet controlled me with full authority to punish me as she liked, no doubt added to her enjoyment at my chastisements.
My maids make me their personal maid and chore slave -- Tarek
I would like to thank Ms. AT Khan for reviewing the story and providing lots of feedback, and JonB1969 for editing the first edition. - Tarek
*
"Tell me the truth, baba!" Rashida, my maid, held my left ear firmly in her right hand, giving it a painful twist. "Did you, or did you not, switch off the oven as I had ordered?"
"Bua, bua ... ow!" I yelped as she twisted my ear again, and my head swiveled at her pull. "I am sorry, I ..."
Rashida let go of my ear, and raised her right hand. I grimaced, for I knew what was coming.
SLAP!
"One!" I counted dutifully. "I am sorry, bua. I really am! Please slap me again."
Here was I, the twenty year old son of one of the most powerful businessman in Kolkata, and not only was I taking orders from my older, buxom, chubby and now very angry maid servant Rashida, but she was now slapping my cheeks and punishing me for failing to carry out her orders. And for some frightening reason, I kept feeling as if I was forgetting something else as well.
SLAP!
"Two! I am sorry, bua." I mumbled, as my face flushed a bright red, partly from my servant's slaps, partly from shame as she was slapping me in front of our other servant. "I am really very sorry."
SLAP!
"I don't like liars," Rashida announced, her face stoic. "I gave you ONE simple task. Turn off the oven in 8 minutes. If you forgot to do that, at least be a man and admit it. I would have slapped you once or twice and that would be it. But then you lied to me! Did you think we wouldn't find out?"
SLAP!
"Four! Bua," I tried to plead my case, as always using the respectful term 'bua' to address my maid. "I should not have lied. Please forgive me."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"You have never lied to me like this before, baba," Rashida admonished me in between her slaps.
"Yes, bua." I tried to have a very contrite look, but it wasn't going well. And then there was the nagging feeling that I was forgetting another order -- something the maids haven't figured out yet, but would soon will -- and for the life of me I could not remember what that order was!
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"You will start your second year of university, in August, in less than a month. I have been punishing you for two years now."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"Baba, whenever I had asked you if you had done something wrong, you had always admitted it and taken your punishment. This is unacceptable."
"Yes, bua."
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Nearby, our other maid Rubina stood by, silently watching my humiliation, with a sly grin on her face, as Rashida continued to slap me alternately on each cheek. Rubina had reason to be smug, of course. Whereas Rashida was much older, Rubina was my age. In fact, she was younger than me by some months. A few years ago, she was just a mere maid from a poor Bengali family, happy at the chance for employment at a rich, Urdu-speaking, business family's house where the pay was great and the work load not too much. She was a shy and demure girl who would tremble at my orders.
And now she wouldn't let go of a chance to strip me naked, put me across her lap and give me a beating with her slippers. Oh, how the chappals have turned! The fact that she was younger than me, and yet controlled me with full authority to punish me as she liked, no doubt added to her enjoyment at my chastisements.
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