Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

The Tailor's Torment
On Tuesday morning, after sending Iqbal off to work and dropping her son to college, she grabbed a large shopping bag containing her new clothes that she had purchased from the mall—including the tight jeans and a stunning, sheer new brown chiffon saree—and headed straight to her local tailor.
 
Masterji, an older, highly conservative man who had been stitching her loose, shapeless, boring dresses all these years, adjusted his thick glasses as Shazia confidently placed the vibrant, modern garments onto his wooden counter.
 
"Masterji, inn sab blouses ki fitting puri tarah change karni hai," (Masterji, the fitting of all these blouses needs to be completely changed,) she instructed confidently, her voice carrying a demanding, highly authoritative tone. "Gala thoda aur deep karna hai, aage se bhi aur peechhe se bhi. Aur fitting tight karna hai. Aur ye brown chiffon ka ek naya saadi hai, blouse ke saath hai... isska blouse thora alagsa karna chahti hun. Koi modern jaise. Aapke paas koi designs hai?” (The neck needs to be deeper, both from the front and the back. I want a fitting made tight. And this brown chiffon is a new saree with the blouse attached. I want the blouse for this to be different. Something modern. Do you have any such designs?)
 
The tailor replied nervously, “Haina. Aap choose karlo,” (Yes. You can choose,) and handed her a few booklets carrying modern designs of kurtis and blouses.
 
Shazia browsed quickly through those pages until she found a dangerously low, sleeveless blouse design with a deep, plunging cut in the front and a completely open back held together by a string and a thin strap of the blouse. Shazia, showing it directly to the tailor, demanded, “Aisa bana sakthe hai aap. Bilkul same to same. iska peechhe ka hissa lagbhag backless hona chahiye, sirf ek patli strap aur dori se bandha hua." (Can you stitch it like this? Exactly same to same. The back should be almost entirely backless, held together by only a thin strap and tied with a string.)
 
Masterji looked completely taken aback by the sudden, scandalous, highly exposing choice. Trying to maintain his professionalism while checking her measurements, his eyes involuntarily dropped to the swell of her breasts aggressively pushing against her kameez before he quickly looked down, wiping a nervous bead of sweat from his forehead.
 
"J-Ji madam, ho jayega...” (Y-Yes madam, it will be done...) he stammered. Calling her inside his measuring area, he added, “ek baar measurement check kar lunga tho behthar hoga.” (It would be better if I check the measurements once.)
 
Shazia stepped forward confidently and raised both her bare arms to the sides as the tailor stood nervously in front of her, placing his measuring tape around her torso to measure her massive bust. The tailor, intensely aware of both her breast sizes, tried to position the tape correctly at the highest, most prominent point of her breast mounds. He pulled the tape slightly tighter and said, “Ithni tight fit teek rahega.” (This much of a tight fit would be enough.). The pressure made her breasts squeeze against each other making her cleavage look deeper and darker. Shazia, in a demanding, highly insisting tone, corrected him. “Nahi, thoda aur tight karwadijiye.” (No, make it more tight.)
 
Hearing that explicit command, he tightened the tape much further. The measuring tape was now pressed deep against the soft, yielding flesh of her massive breasts, creating a more visible cleavage. He doubted his own work and said nervously, “Par ye bahut tight ho jayega, aapko comfort feel nahi hoga..." (But this will be very tight, you might not feel comfortable...).
 
"Aap uski fikar mat kijiye. Mujhe tight hi pasand hai," (You don't worry about that. I like it tight,) Shazia smirked filthily, knowing exactly what her sexy breasts would violently do to that tight, restrictive blouse.
 
“Teek hai, thora saans lijiye,” (Okay, breathe deep,) the tailor said, asking her to take a deep breath to ensure that the measurement would not be fatally tight for her. Releasing her, he said, “Teek hai. Kardenge.” (Okay. I will do it.)
 
While billing, he asked her when she needed them. She asked if he could give them all to her by Thursday. He replied that it would be physically impossible to do it all in that time. Shazia then prioritized the specific sexy dresses she wanted to wear for the resort trip, requesting the tailor to absolutely give those by Thursday and the remaining a week later. While returning home, Shazia blushed deeply, her pussy throbbing as she thought about the excitement she would see in Iqbal's eyes when she wears these tight, exposing clothes for him.
 
Back home, her new smartphone was her constant, filthy companion. She called her mother, her voice bubbling with an arrogant, highly fake innocence. "Maa, Iqbal humein is weekend Resort le jaa rahe hain. Bahut bada aur mehenga resort hai! Unhone mere liye nayi dresses bhi li hain." (Mom, Iqbal is taking us to a Resort this weekend. It's a very big and expensive resort! He even bought new dresses for me.)
 
Later that day, to continue feeding her growing, insatiable hunger for raw male validation, she posted a new photo on Instagram that Thursday. It was a close-up selfie that perfectly highlighted the dark, seductive eyes and the deep, shadowy, plunging valley of her massive cleavage spilling out of her top. The filthy, anonymous, desperate comments from strangers flooded her notifications instantly, and she drank them up eagerly, using their dirty, lustful words to actively fuel her wet pussy and build her absolute, dominant confidence for the upcoming weekend at the resort.