30-06-2019, 01:00 PM
That the world saw. Just how much of it she got from the house servants no one suspected.
As time wore on, she realised that nothing else mattered to her quite as much as sex. She loved it and craved it and couldn't live without it. She would do anything for a fuck.
Already, within a few months of Raju fucking her, Vaishali was very nearly the whore of neighbourhood for all the servants. Long lines formed in her house when her parents were away as she took them all, one by one, enjoying each without reserve.
It was getting out of hand and Raju began to regulate it, drawing lots and setting up schedules so that she had no more two or three a night. That way, he explained, everyone was happy, everyone was satisfied.
And by keeping her exclusive, he made a killing. Raju became her pimp.
He soon discovered that there was nearly as much money to be made from allowing guys to watch her fuck other guys.
Voyeurism was a neglected sexual activity. Raju saw no reason whatever to look a gift horse in the mouth. Those who couldn't afford to fuck her, for want of money or inclination, were welcome to take their pleasure in watching her.
It happened that Raju's rather randy fifteen-year old nephew, Pankaj, came to visit for a fortnight.
He was a tall, strong, strapping lad, and Raju noticed Vaishali eyeing him and, grinning to himself, resolved to induct the lad into manhood before he went back to his hometown. But things had to be handled right.
A poor start with a broad like her and a guy might get warped for life with quite the wrong ideas about women and how to handle them. He would have to gift-wrap it nicely. He kept Pankaj away from Vaishali's antics and gave no chance for the lad to find out.
But things don't always happen as they should.
Late one night, the teenager woke from his sleep, curiously restless. He stole out of the little room behind the kitchen which he shared with Raju; his uncle wasn't around and the house seemed silent and deserted.
It was a close, still night and he silently opened a door and stepped out for a breath of air.
Outside, the sprawling, slightly decrepit house was quiet and dark, silently slumbering. He looked around and saw the lone light that shone from the window of the servants' quarters in the outhouse to one side of the property.
He was puzzled. The outhouse itself was enormous and that particular window looked out of a room that was unoccupied. He had it explored it recently. The servants either lived away or in the house now, like Raju. Pankaj had explored the room.
It had a minimal amount of furniture, a bed, two chairs, a long mirror, one steel cupboard and quantities of junk that no one had ever thought of throwing away but that Raju had assured him he could spirit away. No one would ever know. No one cared.
Something jangled in his head. He looked at the gate. It was slightly ajar, the padlock undone. The guards' cabin was empty. The silly fellow must be asleep, or off for a piss. Raju was always complaining.
He felt his scalp tingle; the open gate; that light in the otherwise deserted room ...
Pankaj padded stealthily across the grounds, got to the outhouse and crept up to the flight of external concrete stairs that led to the room on the first floor.
He peered around the corner of the solid balustrade and, just then, the door was flung open. Pankaj ducked back out of sight, his heart pounding in his head.
He heard a man grunt, laugh. He peered around again. A tall, vaguely familiar figure stepped out of the room onto the open landing and went over to the balustrade. Pankaj saw the man stretch both hands between his legs and then heard the loud sizzle and splash as he urinated over the far edge.
"Hey motherfuckers! Wait for me!" he heard the man call.
There was an answering guffaw from the room. "C'mon, you sonofabitch! Hurry up! Can't think of anything else to do with your prick?"
The man grunted, chuckled. Pankaj saw him shake his cock and turn around, going back into the room, slamming the door shut.
Pankaj stole silently up the stairs. They ended in a small landing. There was a door to the room which opened out onto the landing, and a large window beside it. The room was the furthest away from the main house, with nothing else close.
The other servants' rooms had a separate, joint access.
Pankaj got to the landing and bent low, flat against the wall beside the door. It was firmly shut. The window was beyond. He ducked low and crept towards the window sill. The window was ajar.
He heard a voice. Two voices. And another, and a fourth. Oh god! He froze in shock. One voice he recognised. Vaishali.
Lovely Vaishali, about whom he had all those wonderful dreams, with whom he was so desperately in love, who looked like a film star, whom he wanted to marry and cherish and life happily ever after with
As time wore on, she realised that nothing else mattered to her quite as much as sex. She loved it and craved it and couldn't live without it. She would do anything for a fuck.
Already, within a few months of Raju fucking her, Vaishali was very nearly the whore of neighbourhood for all the servants. Long lines formed in her house when her parents were away as she took them all, one by one, enjoying each without reserve.
It was getting out of hand and Raju began to regulate it, drawing lots and setting up schedules so that she had no more two or three a night. That way, he explained, everyone was happy, everyone was satisfied.
And by keeping her exclusive, he made a killing. Raju became her pimp.
He soon discovered that there was nearly as much money to be made from allowing guys to watch her fuck other guys.
Voyeurism was a neglected sexual activity. Raju saw no reason whatever to look a gift horse in the mouth. Those who couldn't afford to fuck her, for want of money or inclination, were welcome to take their pleasure in watching her.
It happened that Raju's rather randy fifteen-year old nephew, Pankaj, came to visit for a fortnight.
He was a tall, strong, strapping lad, and Raju noticed Vaishali eyeing him and, grinning to himself, resolved to induct the lad into manhood before he went back to his hometown. But things had to be handled right.
A poor start with a broad like her and a guy might get warped for life with quite the wrong ideas about women and how to handle them. He would have to gift-wrap it nicely. He kept Pankaj away from Vaishali's antics and gave no chance for the lad to find out.
But things don't always happen as they should.
Late one night, the teenager woke from his sleep, curiously restless. He stole out of the little room behind the kitchen which he shared with Raju; his uncle wasn't around and the house seemed silent and deserted.
It was a close, still night and he silently opened a door and stepped out for a breath of air.
Outside, the sprawling, slightly decrepit house was quiet and dark, silently slumbering. He looked around and saw the lone light that shone from the window of the servants' quarters in the outhouse to one side of the property.
He was puzzled. The outhouse itself was enormous and that particular window looked out of a room that was unoccupied. He had it explored it recently. The servants either lived away or in the house now, like Raju. Pankaj had explored the room.
It had a minimal amount of furniture, a bed, two chairs, a long mirror, one steel cupboard and quantities of junk that no one had ever thought of throwing away but that Raju had assured him he could spirit away. No one would ever know. No one cared.
Something jangled in his head. He looked at the gate. It was slightly ajar, the padlock undone. The guards' cabin was empty. The silly fellow must be asleep, or off for a piss. Raju was always complaining.
He felt his scalp tingle; the open gate; that light in the otherwise deserted room ...
Pankaj padded stealthily across the grounds, got to the outhouse and crept up to the flight of external concrete stairs that led to the room on the first floor.
He peered around the corner of the solid balustrade and, just then, the door was flung open. Pankaj ducked back out of sight, his heart pounding in his head.
He heard a man grunt, laugh. He peered around again. A tall, vaguely familiar figure stepped out of the room onto the open landing and went over to the balustrade. Pankaj saw the man stretch both hands between his legs and then heard the loud sizzle and splash as he urinated over the far edge.
"Hey motherfuckers! Wait for me!" he heard the man call.
There was an answering guffaw from the room. "C'mon, you sonofabitch! Hurry up! Can't think of anything else to do with your prick?"
The man grunted, chuckled. Pankaj saw him shake his cock and turn around, going back into the room, slamming the door shut.
Pankaj stole silently up the stairs. They ended in a small landing. There was a door to the room which opened out onto the landing, and a large window beside it. The room was the furthest away from the main house, with nothing else close.
The other servants' rooms had a separate, joint access.
Pankaj got to the landing and bent low, flat against the wall beside the door. It was firmly shut. The window was beyond. He ducked low and crept towards the window sill. The window was ajar.
He heard a voice. Two voices. And another, and a fourth. Oh god! He froze in shock. One voice he recognised. Vaishali.
Lovely Vaishali, about whom he had all those wonderful dreams, with whom he was so desperately in love, who looked like a film star, whom he wanted to marry and cherish and life happily ever after with
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