Adultery Indian Wife Gone Bad by aurelius1982-COMPLETED

[georgemercy]

part 9 Last part 

 Tariq stood there, still dressed in the bathrobe a... Tariq stood there, still dressed in the bathrobe and nothing else, smiling and asked me to follow him. I got up and walked behind him as he lead me to a room which seemed like some sort of a study. There were shelves full of books, a table with a computer and some stationery, and some furniture. He sat in an cushioned oak chair and asked me to sit on another identical chair in front of him. "Where is Shilpa? I want to talk to her." I said. "Shilpa is busy right now. That closed door you knocked on before you attacked me? She is in there with a friend of mine and his wife. I have told her you are here, and she will join us after they are done with her." Tariq said. "What are they doing with her?" I asked. Tariq smiled, turned his head sideways and said, "What do you think they are doing with her?" I stayed silent. "Now, I want you to know something. And I hope you believe me." Tariq leaned forward in the chair and looked into my eyes. "I have been against hiding this from you from the very beginning." "Yeah, sure." I said, scoffing. "No, I am serious!" Tariq said sincerely, "When I collared Shilpa.... you know what collared means?" I shook my head, although I had some idea. "Collaring someone means officially making them your slave. That's what I did to Shilpa almost a year back." Tariq explained. "Anyway, right when I did it, I told her I'd prefer it if she just told you the truth. Explain to your her urges, her submissive instincts, and her rare needs that you could not satisfy. I said that she should tell you and leave the decision up to you. But she did not agree. I always believe in transparency." "So you If she is your slave, why didn't you just order her to tell me then?" I asked, speaking through my teeth. Tariq sighed and shook his head. "That's not how it works, Arun." he said. "My collaring her and making her my slave is limited to certain aspects of her lifestyle only. I don't tell her how to run her life in other ways. She is my slave only when she is wearing my collar. The rest of the time, she is free to do what she wants. I can only give suggestions. For example, her art." "What about her art?" I asked. "If it were up to me, I would have ordered her to give up these dreams of becoming an artist. I told her that in the first month she started taking lessons. She does not have the eye, the talent or the special gift to become an artist. She was just wasting your money and her time by continuing the lessons." Tariq said. This was news to me. I always considered Shilpa to be talented. But then, I was just a layman when it came to art. "Anyway, coming back to the point. I have always been of the opinion that you should know everything. And it might surprise you to learn that even whatever you know now, is thanks to me." Tariq said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, Arun.... this detective agency business...who do you think gave them all this information?" Tariq said with a genial smile on his face. "I did. That guy snooping around the house...Johnny? I spotted him right away on the first day. Caught him. Made him talk. And then told him the whole story." "What???" I asked, shocked. "Yeah. You think it is so easy to get into this house and take all the videos you must have seen? He could take those videos with his ridiculous "hidden" camera, only because I allowed him to. I am the one who gave him pictures of Shilpa and me from the trip to Goa. I am the one who told him everything that happened when that old neighbor of yours came over." Tariq said. "But....why?" I asked. "Because, like I said Arun, I want you to know." Tariq said. "You are a nice guy, who just happened to get unlucky. Who did not fully recognize what sort of woman he was marrying. Women like Shilpa..... they can never be satisfied with just a normal life, Arun." I stared at him questioningly. "This need that she has, this want, this hunger... to be dominated, ordered around, sexually used." Tariq continued "This is something she can not get rid of. She may suppress it for a while. But sooner or later, Arun, it was bound to get out. She had kept it in for too long. And when someone like me, experienced in these matters, came along, she was going to get into it. If it wasn't me last year, it would have been someone else two years from now." he said. "Okay...." I said, trying to completely digest and make sense of what I was hearing. "Not just that. I am not her first master, but her second one. She had a master before." Tariq dropped another bombshell. "What??? Who?? When??" I asked. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, this was a few years before she even met you. But it was not formally a master-slave relationship. She didn't know about the BDSM lifestyle and neither did he. I was just a "de facto" submissive relationship. Which lasted barely a month, and then ended when her parents found out." Tariq said. "Who was it?" I asked. Tariq clucked his tongue and said, "Not important. Ask her later. The point is, she had already recognized the thrill she got out of being submissive. And that part of her was always hiding in her, waiting to be stoked. And when I came along and recognized it, well, she became very easy for me to collar." "Alright." I said. "So I am glad it is out in the open. And I want to tell you my views on the situation. But before that, do you have any questions?" Tariq asked. I sat there staring at him. The 62 year old man, with completely white hair, old enough to be my father.... or even Shilpa's father. Just a few days back, I thought of him as the genial art teacher. And yet here he sat, wielding so much power. Sitting there in just a bathrobe in a stylish den, he seemed like one of those sophisticated villains from 70s Bollywood movies. Like Ajit or Pran. And my beautiful wife was his slave. Sleeping with others at his orders. How had things become to complicated, I wondered. "How did it all start?" I asked. "How did what start?" "How did you make Shilpa your slave?" I asked. Tariq got up and went to the table. He picked up a box of expensive looking cigars and offered me one. I declined. He took one out, lit it, and came back to the chair with an ash tray in another hand. Taking a puff from the cigar and inhaling it, he said, "Shilpa always had problems in the class. She was one of the worst students. And she always had trouble with the simplest of assignments. So I often had to scold her, or criticize her in front of the class. Now of course, it was a class of adults, so I would never scold them too severely. But with Shilpa, i was beginning to lose my patience. So my rebukes of her got stronger and stronger, when she showed no signs of improvement." "After a few weeks" Tariq continued, "I noticed something. She almost seemed to enjoy my berating her in public. She would stand there with a sad look on her face, looking down at her feet. But from the way she fidgeted and something blushed, I started suspecting that she liked being told off. That's when it first struck me - maybe she is a closet submissive. So once, just to test out my theory, when she made a mistake, I really yelled at her in front of everyone. I called her stupid, talentless, retarded, someone who should not even be allowed to touch a brush, much less paint. She started crying in front of everyone and rushed out of the class." As much as Shilpa had shown herself to be a degraded slut, the thought of a stranger insulting my wife in public still got me a little upset. "My reasoning was.... if she isn't submissive, she can just quit the class and never come back. Or at least complain about my insulting her to the college. But if she is submissive, she will not do anything. And that's what happened. She did nothing. Turned up to class the next day as if nothing had happened. I decided to take one more step. I told her that because of her mistakes the previous day, I had a punishment for her. She had to hold her ears and do ten squats in front of the whole class. And she quietly did it. Which proved it to me. This woman likes being humiliated and dominated." Again, the thought of my wife doing squats like some errant college kid bugged me. But like Tariq said, she had an option to just walk out. "Now here's the thing. She was taking my public insults and punishments gladly, but others in the class started getting uncomfortable. Two women and a man spoke up, saying I was being too hard on Shilpa. And this was not some military college. They also said that if this humiliation of her continued, they would report it to the college. So I went all contrite, apologized for crossing the line, apologized to Shilpa, and kept mum." Tariq said. "After that, mindful of the other students, I toned down my rebuke of her. Even if she made mistakes, I would quietly point them out and that was it. Often I would just ignore her mistakes. And I saw a curious pattern emerge. Her mistakes got more and more glaring, and more and more frequent. It was almost as if she was begging to be yelled at or punished. often she would call me over to her easel and show me her work and it was clear that the mistake had been made on purpose. Even an artist as bad as Shilpa could not have made them." "So what did you do next?" I asked. "I decided I had to test her limits. But I could not do it in class. So one day, I asked her to meet me the next day half an hour before the class in my office. She reached ten minutes before I asked her to come. She knocked on the door, and I asked her to come in and close the door behind her. She did, without any hesitation. immediately, without any preface, I started scolding her about her mistakes, and she kept saying sorry. I said sorry does not cut it any more. I would have to punish her." "Then came my first test of her limits. I asked her to bend over the table. She did. I took a ruler and started spanking her ass, over the jeans she was wearing. She did not object. I spanked her about 20 times, and stopped. She stayed bent over. I asked her to get up and leave. And I said if she kept making mistakes, I would punish her even more. She nodded and left, and I started preparing for the class." "She made more mistakes, didn't she?" I asked. "Bingo!" Tariq said, stubbing out his cigar "That next day she made the kind of mistakes even someone with arthritis wouldn't make. She was begging for more punishment. Again, I told her to come to my office the next day. This time, I noticed she wore a knee length skirt. She hardly ever wore skirts to class before. It was almost always jeans. Again, I asked her to close the door, and went over the mistakes she had made, calling her stupid, useless and idiotic. She kept staring at the floor silently, as if waiting for things to move forward." "So I took them forward. I asked her to come and lie down on my lap, face down. Obediently, she did. I lifted her skirt up, and noticed, not very surprised, that she had worn a thong. Another sign of her wanting more. Since she had done such a great job of baring her ass to me, I spanked her using my hand, and on her ass cheeks. And I spanked her. She winced and yelped, but they were clearly yelps of pleasure and pain. After spanking her for about a minute, I noticed a distinct wetness being visible at her pussy." "After that, these spanking sessions became very regular for a few days. Often, she would come to my office even if I hadn't told her to come. And without saying anything, either bend over the table, or lie down in my lap. And always, she would get wet. After about a week of this spanking, I decided to test her limit further. I asked her to come home with me after class. And she readily agreed, although she did say she'd have to leave in time for her to be home when you got back. When we got to my home...my home in the city, not this farmhouse.... I told her to take off all her clothes. She readily did." "And then?" I asked.