19-03-2019, 01:27 PM
Shabina was our local vegetable lady. My mom was having a huge party that evening (which is why my parents were out this morning, getting some final shopping done, leaving the mundane kitchen tasks to the help), and she had ordered some vegetables. Shabina was the lady who would walk with her cart and deliver fresh vegetables to each house in our locality every day. This morning, as I was watching the oven, she had come into the kitchen with her merchandise. Since I was already in the kitchen, I stood there to supervise her -- and when she bent over to place the items into the refrigerator, presenting her ample, fleshy buttocks, I was busy ogling her. If you hadn't noticed already, I have a thing for women with big behinds. And this has often gotten my behind into a lot of trouble.
Shabina was a firm old lady, but probably no older than forty five. For a mature lady, she had a pretty face, with cheeks begging to be squeezed, while her lips were pouty and thick. She was of average height and built, but boy did she have a plump behind! It was tough to say where her waist ended and her hips began. Like many of these working poor ladies, she wore a thin sari, without enough material to completely wrap around her body, leaving her ample fleshy waist and navel completely exposed. I also tried to peer down her blouse as she moved her wares, and I could see Shabina did not wear a bra as well.
With my dad's rising political star, and my mom's charitable work, and me being in prime fitness and shape, and the vice-captain of our university cricket team, I could have had any girl in the city. And here I was, being miserably punished by my maid servants for failing a task because I was too busy ogling the poor vegetable lady.
"Pull down his pajamas," Rashida ordered, and Rubina was of course too happy to comply. In a trice, my pajamas were at my ankles. Following Rashida's orders, I of course had nothing underneath. I wore no underwear, ever, because, in Rashida's words, "I want you to be spankable and ready to be punished wherever you are and whenever I want." So there I was, standing in the kitchen in just my t-shirt, my bare bum exposed to my maids -- one of whom had a stoic look on her face, and the other was suppressing giggles at my discomfort.
Rashida then stripped off my t-shirt, so I was completely in the nude, and led me painfully by the ear to an old wooden chair that was propped against the kitchen wall.
"Climb up on the chair, baba, facing the wall, and kneel on the chair," Rashida ordered.
"Yes, bua."
I did as she asked, facing the wall, my knees on the chair, my hands spread apart and braced against the wall. I knew that if I moved or squirmed, I risked falling out of that rickety old chair.
"Stay here in this position until I decide your punishment, baba."
"Yes, bua."
Rashida pressed the back of my head firmly until my cheeks were flat against the wall. Then she pressed my buttocks hard so my dick was now grinding against the back of the chair.
"Hold this position, baba."
"Yes, bua."
Even though she was using the affectionate term 'baba' for me, I knew that soon she would be paddling my ass and be anything but affectionate. All those slaps, I thought wryly, were just a precursor. Vaguely, I tried to recall if there was some other instruction of hers I was forgetting.
Rashida gave her orders, starting to get busy. "Rubina!"
"Yes, apa?"
"Start preparing the dough. This cake isn't going to make itself."
"Yes, apa."
Behind Rubina's compliant reply, I could detect a hint of anger. I knew that Rashida would delegate those tasks to her, since she, Rashida, was, after all, the older maid and therefore the head of the domestic help, but I also knew Rubina would punish me later for this additional work.
For some time, I just remained in my position. The sounds of the maids being busy in the kitchen filled the air. Rashida chopped some vegetables, Rubina started to work on the cake and they were busy with their tasks. A couple of sly mocking comments at the naked man amidst them would be thrown around occasionally, followed by laughter. I was a source of amusement for my maid servants. Not only was I in the nude, kneeling in humiliation, and humbly awaiting my punishment, but I was fit to be ignored until they had completed their mundane chores. My clothes lay in a heap on the kitchen floor.
Shabina was a firm old lady, but probably no older than forty five. For a mature lady, she had a pretty face, with cheeks begging to be squeezed, while her lips were pouty and thick. She was of average height and built, but boy did she have a plump behind! It was tough to say where her waist ended and her hips began. Like many of these working poor ladies, she wore a thin sari, without enough material to completely wrap around her body, leaving her ample fleshy waist and navel completely exposed. I also tried to peer down her blouse as she moved her wares, and I could see Shabina did not wear a bra as well.
With my dad's rising political star, and my mom's charitable work, and me being in prime fitness and shape, and the vice-captain of our university cricket team, I could have had any girl in the city. And here I was, being miserably punished by my maid servants for failing a task because I was too busy ogling the poor vegetable lady.
"Pull down his pajamas," Rashida ordered, and Rubina was of course too happy to comply. In a trice, my pajamas were at my ankles. Following Rashida's orders, I of course had nothing underneath. I wore no underwear, ever, because, in Rashida's words, "I want you to be spankable and ready to be punished wherever you are and whenever I want." So there I was, standing in the kitchen in just my t-shirt, my bare bum exposed to my maids -- one of whom had a stoic look on her face, and the other was suppressing giggles at my discomfort.
Rashida then stripped off my t-shirt, so I was completely in the nude, and led me painfully by the ear to an old wooden chair that was propped against the kitchen wall.
"Climb up on the chair, baba, facing the wall, and kneel on the chair," Rashida ordered.
"Yes, bua."
I did as she asked, facing the wall, my knees on the chair, my hands spread apart and braced against the wall. I knew that if I moved or squirmed, I risked falling out of that rickety old chair.
"Stay here in this position until I decide your punishment, baba."
"Yes, bua."
Rashida pressed the back of my head firmly until my cheeks were flat against the wall. Then she pressed my buttocks hard so my dick was now grinding against the back of the chair.
"Hold this position, baba."
"Yes, bua."
Even though she was using the affectionate term 'baba' for me, I knew that soon she would be paddling my ass and be anything but affectionate. All those slaps, I thought wryly, were just a precursor. Vaguely, I tried to recall if there was some other instruction of hers I was forgetting.
Rashida gave her orders, starting to get busy. "Rubina!"
"Yes, apa?"
"Start preparing the dough. This cake isn't going to make itself."
"Yes, apa."
Behind Rubina's compliant reply, I could detect a hint of anger. I knew that Rashida would delegate those tasks to her, since she, Rashida, was, after all, the older maid and therefore the head of the domestic help, but I also knew Rubina would punish me later for this additional work.
For some time, I just remained in my position. The sounds of the maids being busy in the kitchen filled the air. Rashida chopped some vegetables, Rubina started to work on the cake and they were busy with their tasks. A couple of sly mocking comments at the naked man amidst them would be thrown around occasionally, followed by laughter. I was a source of amusement for my maid servants. Not only was I in the nude, kneeling in humiliation, and humbly awaiting my punishment, but I was fit to be ignored until they had completed their mundane chores. My clothes lay in a heap on the kitchen floor.
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