Misc. Erotica Lallan the Bully and Shikha the Social Worker - by shiprat

[elite1392]

Lallan the Bully and Shikha the Social Worker

Writer:- shiprat

25th May 2018

(PART-1)

https://www.xossip.com/showthread.php?t=1534972


"It's not that straightforward, memsaab!" Parvati gently thumped the table with her bruised fists as she fought back her tears.


"Parvati, I understand." I got up from my chair, crossed the table and stroked her back to soothe her. "I understand it's not straightforward. Or even simple. But you have to do something or this will continue forever."

She then burst into tears. I sighed, picked up a box of tissues from my table and handed it to her. She used the tissues to wipe the tears from her face and blow her nose. This is the worst part of my job. Dealing with someone in denial about their situation.

I am a psychology graduate employed as a social worker with an NGO that specializes in helping out lower income women in Delhi. My expertise is counseling women under the poverty line, typically from the slums, who have been victims of domestic violence. When these women get beaten up or otherwise mistreated by their husbands, the security officer often get involved. The husbands are dragged away by security officer constables, beaten up, and spend a couple of days in jail. The women are brought to NGOs like ours where we help them recover from the trauma and try to counsel them on the best ways forward.

The security officer and the courts in India are nowhere close to perfect when it comes to dealing with women, but they generally at least try. The biggest problem that cops face in such cases is simple. The women are angry in the immediate aftermath of their trauma and are forthcoming about the abuses they have suffered. But after a couple of days, some traditional or familial instinct kicks in and they are not willing to press charges or testify. So the cops have to release the husbands. The security officer department is under-staffed and over-worked so they have to prioritize more serious crimes like murder and bang. So they put the case file away and then send the women to us.

My job is to counsel such women against changing their minds. To convince them, gently but firmly, that it is in their best interests to leave these men and have them put behind bars. And that is what I am trying to convince Parvati about.

"He is good with the girls. He really is!" Parvati took a break from her sobs and said.

"I believe you."

"He loves them. Always looks after them. It's just me he has issues with."

"Parvati, listen to me." I said. "Yes, he is good with the girls. Which means he doesn't hit them or abuse them. But he hits you. In front of them. Right?"

"Yes." she softly replied. "But it's only when he is drunk. When he is sober..."

"Don't use alcohol as an excuse..." I interrupted her "to justify his behavior. Alcohol doesn't change what a person is deep down inside."

Parvati opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again and wiped her tears.

"Now if you continue to stay with this man, what example are you setting for your daughters? Do you want them to grow up internalizing the belief that it is okay for a man to just bash up his wife? Using alcohol as an excuse?"

"No!"

"When your daughters grow up, do you want them to be beaten up by their men? And accept it as normal?"

"NO!" Parvati raised her voice. "I don't want my daughters to have a life like mine. I want them to be..."

She paused and looked at me.

"To be like you, memsaab!" she nodded and continued. "Educated, mature, strong, and independent."

There it came again. The effusive praise for me from the female victims, a classic example of transference. In my rookie days, I tried to brush it off. But now I knew better. I still didn't fully indulge in it. Just tried to channel it in the right direction.

"Well Parvati, if you really want your daughters to be like me, you have to set a good example. Which means you have to do something about...what's his name again?" I flipped through the file.

"Lallan..." Parvati whispered with a shudder.

From the file, Lallan seemed to be quite the textbook problem case. No steady job, mostly lived off the money his wife made selling vegetables, habitual drunkard, got in fights all over, and beat up his wife regularly. The last time it happened, the beating had spilled over onto the street just as a security officer patrol car was driving by. They scooped up Lallan, put him in the station lock-up and one of the lady constables helped Parvati file a complaint. But in a couple of days, she had shown up to withdraw the complaint. And they had to let the guy go with a stern warning.

"So you see my point?" I asked.

"Yes, memsaab." Parvati nodded earnestly.

"The only way forward is for you to file a security officer complaint, make him take his punishment as the law decides, and then we can help you leave him and divorce him."

"Divorce????" she sounded shocked.

"If you care about your daughters, that's the only way. So...are you ready to press charges? I know all the cops in that security officer station. They will help you. And we can also help you a lot."

"I don't know, memsaab...divorce seems so extreme!"

But I pressed on. I used all the persuasive skills at my disposal, all the things I had learnt in my training, everything I knew from my five years of experience in this job, to talk Parvati into acting on her own survival instincts. Finally, I seemed to have broken through.

An hour later, I was on the phone with Inspector Dubey who had referred her case to me. Parvati, I noted with a sense of accomplishment, was pressing charges against her abusive husband. As long as she testified, he would be sent away for a couple of years, and she could get a divorce as well as sole custody of her kids. Then another division of our NGO would help her resettle in another city so if her husband decided to get vengeful after getting out of jail, he couldn't torment her more. I closed the file from my side.

I felt cautiously optimistic about this case. Part of this job was regular disappointment. An odd kind of reverse recidivism where women we convinced still changed their minds and went back to their battered lives despite having the option to escape. Whenever that happened, I felt sad and defeated.

Years of this had taken a toll on me, and my husband Anup had seen it from close quarters. He saw me go from a perky and idealistic aspiring social worker at 22 when we started dating, to a slightly hardened postgrad during my internships at 25 when I got married, to an often morose and cynical veteran now at 30. Anup often tried to convince me to quit the job and do something less stressful and depressing. I resisted, knowing that what I was doing made a difference. But as the years passed, it was getting harder and harder to resist his suggestions.

So when Anup's company decided to send him to the US on an onsite assignment with the possibility of a green card, I decided to change my career tracks too. I took the GRE and starting sending applications to doctoral programs in social psychology. With a good score and a hefty experience in social work on the frontlines, I was optimistic that I would soon enter the world of academia and leave this soul-sapping job behind.

I was counting the months.

I saw Parvati again a month later. She walked into my office looking considerably more cheerful and entirely free of bruises. She was accompanied by a short wiry man. Maybe her brother, I presumed.

"Namaste, Shikha memsaab." Parvati said, and was echoed by the man in a flat voice.

"Namaste." I smiled at her and looked at the man questioningly.

"Memsaab, this is Lallan, my husband."

What the hell? I thought this case was closed and the guy would be in jail by now. The inspector as well as the prosecutor had assured me that it was an open and shut case as long as Parvati didn't recant.

"Oh umm... namaste!" I said, not sure of what to say now that this woman had brought her tormentor along. I couldn't very well ask her in front of him about what happened with the security officer complaint. And why the man was here in my office with her. "Please sit down."

"Memsaab, we have come to thank you. Because of your advice, our marriage is now on the mend. Lallan has given up drinking, gotten a job, and things are really great like they used to be." she said, beaming and putting her hand on her husband's.

He had been staring at the table until then. At her touch, he first looked at her and then at me. For a second I felt like there was a flash of anger in his eyes. But it passed. And he started talking.

"Yes, thank you very much, memsaab. I know I have not been a great husband. And I have made a lot of mistakes. But in the future, it will be different. I love my wife and my daughters, and will do anything to not lose them. I will change."

Although his words sounded very genuine and sincere, there was a hint of rehearsed pretense to the way he said them. I did not believe he could change. More than that, I did not believe he wanted to change. I had handled many such cases, and the patterns are predictable.

I wasn't sure what to say. I just looked at him and nodded. That's when my cellphone rang. It was a cousin calling.

"Excuse me, I have to take this." I said to the couple in front of me and answered the call. "Hi, Priya, what's up? I am at work. Can I call you back in a little while?"

"Shikha didi, this will only take a second. I'm sending out the wedding invitations today and I just realized I don't have your new address."

My husband's project had entered a critical stage and he had to go to the US nine months earlier than the original plan. Our lease was almost up anyway, so we had given up our old rental apartment, and after he left, I had temporarily moved into a house belonging to his cousin who was also away in the US with his family.

"Oh ok...I will text it to you."

"Could you just tell me right now? I am typing out the labels and I have to get this done soon." she said.

"Alright it's House number 134, Sector G4..." I gave her the address right down to the pin code.

"Thank you, Didi. Bye."

I hung up the phone and got back to Parvati and Lallan.

"Well, I am happy you recognized the error of your ways." I said.

"I really have." he nodded. "I haven't touched alcohol in a week, and I have been hired as a cleaner by a transport company. I will be accompanying trucks on long haul trips to Bangalore. In fact I am leaving for my first one tomorrow."

"That's good. A steady job is the backbone of a healthy lifestyle." I said, while thinking to myself, it's good that he will be away for many days, and have less time to beat up his wife.

There was a little more polite small talk, and then they left, looking very happy together.

But I was troubled. I did not think Parvati was thinking straight. If she had been alone, I could have at least tried to talk some sense into her. But bringing the husband along meant that my options were limited.

I called up Inspector Dubey next. He and I had gotten to know each other well over the years. He was that rare honest cop who also had empathy. While most cops in Delhi believed NGOs were a waste of time, Anil Dubey was different.

"Shikha...I have been expecting your call." he said. "I guess you heard about Sunita."

"No...what about Sunita?"

"Oh sorry...I thought you heard. She was...found dead yesterday. Stabbed. Her husband is on the run."

"Shit!" I felt sick to my stomach. I had tried really hard to convince Sunita to leave her husband just like I had with Parvati. But it hadn't worked. I said, "I wish I could have done more, Anil."

"You did all you could, Shikha. There's only so much you can do. Anyway, what were you calling about?"

"About a similar case...Parvati and Lallan...let me get you the case number."

"Oh, you don't need to. I remember that case. Same old story. She agreed to press charges. We had the husband in the lock-up for a few days. But then she came and took the complaint back. We had to release him again."

"Yes, I just saw her."

"You know why I remember the case? That Lallan fellow...he really gives me the creeps. I can see that he is much more of a sadistic psychopath than the others. Usually in the lock-up, these guys are remorseful, begging for forgiveness, promising to change. This guy was like a stone. Not a hint of remorse."

"I know exactly what you mean. Parvati just brought him along. He parroted promises of changing his behavior and everything. But there's something ominous about him."

"Hmmm...if she doesn't wise up soon, I am sorry to say, I think she might end up going Sunita's way."

"Can't you...do something about him, Anil?" I had seen how Delhi security officer worked and how much power they had at their discretion.

"I looked at that possibility. But other than the wife-beating thing, his record is clean. Nothing else that I can use to lock him up." the good thing about Anil being a straight shooter cop who played by the rules could have some disadvantages as well.

"Maybe I should try talking to her again. Alone."

"Maybe. But I doubt it will help, Shikha. I know you have tried hard. But trust me, when a woman like that backs off twice, chances are she is going to back away a third time and a fourth time and so on."

"You know me, Anil. I still have to try."

"Yes, I know." he said. "We are really going to miss you when you go to America, Shikha."

"I will miss you too, Anil." I said.

-

"Madam...are you sure you have the right address?" the Uber driver said. I guess he was surprised and a bit worried to see an upper class memsaab like me wanting to go to one of the seedier slums of Delhi late in the evening. But I had to go in the evening, because according to Parvati's file, she would be working during the day.

"Yes, I do. I am a social worker who deals with slum women and their problems." I said.

"Oh ok then. You seem to know what you're doing." My answer seemed to satisfy him.

I had waited for a few days, trying to decide if I should really go to Parvati's place. On one hand, Anil was right, it probably wouldn't have a long term impact. But on the other hand, the Sunita case was weighing heavily on my mind. I felt like I had failed her. And now here was another case that could go the same way. In half a year, I would be away in the plush confines of some American university. That also made me feel like making my remaining months here count that much more. So I finally decided to make the house call, something that was unprecedented. I had never visited any of my cases in their home before.

I was dressed in a simple salwar kameez, but I still drew stares from men, women, and children as I walked through the narrow and dirty bylanes. I had a folder in one hand with a can of pepper spray inside, in case some men got any fresh ideas. You can never be too careful in Delhi.

Finally, asking a couple of friendly old women for directions, I reached Parvati's house.

"Shikha memsaab!" she sounded surprised when I poked my head in through the door of a tiny single room brick house. She was serving her daughters a simple meal of dal and rice.

"Parvati, I need to talk to you."

"Please come in, memsaab. Have a seat. Please join us for dinner."

"It's okay. I just ate."

"Please memsaab, just a little."

I accepted a tiny portion, knowing that refusing too insistently could be seen as a sign of condescension or ingratitude. I spoke to the girls, asking what they studied, what they liked to play, and so on. Parvati probably knew why I was there, because she didn't make much eye contact. I did notice though that there was a fresh bruise on her arm that she kept trying to hide with her pallu.

"You girls go to Pinky's place and watch some TV." she sent the girl away after dinner, closed the door behind her, and then turned to face me.

"Do you know why I am here, Parvati?" I said.

"Who told you? Was it that nosy Naina? Anyway, it was nothing major, memsaab."

"Told me what? What was nothing major?"

She stayed silent.

"I can see the bruise on your arm, Parvati. Are there more bruises...under your clothes?"

She nodded and started to sob.

"But it was nothing big, memsaab. At least nothing big enough for you to come here and get involved. He was having one last night of drinking with his friends to celebrate his new job before going on that truck to Bangalore. He just got a little carried away in bed and slapped me around a bit. It wasn't like he was hitting me out of anger."

"Wait...what are you saying? That these bruises are from sex?"

"Yes! That's what I am saying. It's not like that last time." she smiled and said. "Last time it was from a fight. This is just from sex."

"You think it's okay for him to hit you during sex?"

"Yes...I mean no...no...it's not that...it's...you won't understand memsaab. But believe me, he has changed." she sincerely believed it.

I sighed, opened the folder and took out a Hindi newspaper. And I walked towards her.

"Sunita also told me something like that. That her husband had changed."

"Sunita?"

I handed her the newspaper and pointed the story to her. She read slowly, moving her lips, as her eyes got big.

"What are you saying, memsaab?" she asked, her voice now almost a whisper.

"I have been doing this work for many years now. I see similarities. In fact, I think your husband is even more psychotic than Sunita's was. And that nice inspector who helped you the last time? He thinks so too. Sunita was once sitting in the same chair in my office you were sitting in. She was making the same excuses, telling me her husband had changed. See where she is now."

I was a little relieved to see that the news seemed to have shaken Parvati as much as I had hoped it would. She stayed quiet, just staring at the newspaper. Finally she started talking.

"Sometimes...sometimes...I really am scared that he will kill me."

"Then leave him, Parvati. Leave him. Go back to the cops. I know Inspector Dubey. He will re-arrest Lallan. And our NGO can help you move. They had already started the process last time. I checked. We can expedite it. If you want, I can have you and your daughters on a train tonight."

"Train where?"

"I don't know that. I can't know that. It is kept secret from everyone except for a few people so it doesn't leak to your husband. But it will be a train to a new place, a new life. Our people will put you up in a new home temporarily, help you find a job, put your daughters in a college, even get you new names if you want."

"But...Lallan...?"

"If you re-file the complaint, they will arrest him. And you won't have to see him again. When you testify against him, it will be through video conference."

"Video conference?"

"By TV...you can tell the judge what you want sitting in whichever town you are in. Even your divorce will be handled that way and expedited. We will take care of everything, Parvati. You just have to say yes."

"But...memsaab...it feels unfair. He has changed."

"He said in my office he had given up drinking. And yet you tell me he just drank..."

"But that was to celebrate."

"You can make up any number of excuses for bad behavior, Parvati. But think about your daughters."

This back and forth went on for a while. But maybe it was my extra passion and anger because of the Sunita case that finally carried the day through. After an hour's argument and cajoling, Parvati finally agreed.

Things moved rapidly after that. It didn't take her long to pack her meager belongings and get her daughters ready. I had pulled a lot of strings and called in a lot of favors to make this case move fast. Very soon, she was sitting alongside me in the security officer station in front of Inspector Dubey, giving a more detailed statement that was videotaped this time. Then our relocation team came and whisked her and her daughters away.

Before leaving, Parvati hugged me tight and thanked me for saving her life. Her tears moistened my kameez shoulder. As I watched her go and wave me goodbye, for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of exhilaration about doing my job.

[elite1392]

"You did a great job today, Shikha."

"Thank you, Anil." I smiled. "What about the husband? Can you contact the truck company, find out where he is and get him arrested?"

Anil grimaced and paused.

"I'm sorry, Shikha. I know how much this case means to you. And so I have done all that I could. But it takes a lot of resources to carry out an arrest in another state. If it were up to me, I would have made it happen. But there's a whole machinery in place that has to move to make it happen. And frankly, a guy with an otherwise clean record, and wanted only for beating his wife doesn't rank high enough in the priority list."

"I understand." I said, feeling a little sad.

"But I have made arrangements to have him arrested as soon as he gets to Delhi. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you, Anil. I appreciate all your help."

There was a spring in my step for the next couple of days. Even my colleagues noticed it and a lot of them congratulated me as word of my extra efforts in the Parvati case spread. I got a letter from the relocation team saying that Parvati and her daughters had been put up in a small house and she had already found a job. It had no details about where she was, as per protocol, but it felt good to know that she was okay and away from her psychotic husband.

And then the following week, I got more great news.

"ANUP!! I GOT INTO STANFORD!!" I yelled as soon as he answered the phone.

"Whoa! Congratulations!!" he said in the middle of his meeting.

Stanford was my dream college, not only because it was the best social psychology department for my research interests, but also because it was in the San Francisco Bay area, where Anup's job was. In a little over eight months, I would be with my husband in San Francisco, getting a PhD at my dream college. Life could not get any better.

After talking to Anup, I whatsapp-ed all my close friends and cousins to break the news. They were delighted. And in a matter of minutes, plans had been made to celebrate this triumph. Dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by drinks at the hottest new pub in town.

"It's so foggy, yaar." one of the friends on our whatsapp group said.

"Fuck fog! It's not everyday that one of us gets into a dream university! We have to celebrate!" another friend said.

And celebrate we did. I dressed up nicely, something I rarely got to do in my day job. And my friends picked me up and whisked me away for a night of revelry. Rich foods, followed by a long sequence of toasts and tequila shots. I was happier than I had ever been. I only wished Anuj could've been there with me.

"Damn...in your colony it is...verrrrry froggy." a friend I was leaning against said.

"Froggy?" I asked and giggled. We were all quite drunk.

"Foggy...you know what I mean."

We giggled as the Uber slowed down in front of the house I was currently staying in.

"Okay Shikha...that's your stop." my friend Piyush said. "Should I door you to your drop?"

"Haha...it's okay." I said. "Door me to my drop? You sound more drunk than me. I'll manage. Thank you again, guys. Love you."

"Love you too, Shikha. Congratulations. Don't forget us when you become a hot shot Stanford grad!"

I got out of the car and found my balance on the high heels with some trouble. I was drunk but not pass-out drunk. I blinked as my eyes got used to the dark outdoors. It really was foggy, even by Delhi winter standards. From the gate, I couldn't even see the door of the house 50 feet away. I opened the gate of the house and walking with great concentration, made my way up the walkway. It seemed like a struggle to even reach the door. That's when my phone rang.

"Hi darling!" I said, slurring.

"Haha, you sound so drunk." Anup said.

"Well I am drrrrrunk." I giggled.

"Congrats again, honey. You wanna skype for a bit?" he asked.

"Hmm...I'd love to, but I am really tired and drunk. I think I am gonna just get inside the house, drop on the couch, and fall asleep."

"Okay. Send me a text when you wake up and we'll talk."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you too."

I disconnected the phone and walked up to the door. Standing against the door for support, I opened my purse. It took me a while to find the keys in my purse. My head was still swimming a little from the drinks. I tried to put the key in the lock but my shaking hand kept slipping.

That's when a figure stepped forward from the fog.

"Need some help, memsaab?"

"Wh-who?" The voice seemed vaguely familiar. Was it one of the neighbors? Or maybe the colony security guard?

"Don't you recognize me?" the man whispered menacingly.

I blinked and stared at the short wiry figure in front of me. Who was this man? He looked familiar.

"I am the man whose life you have ruined." he said angrily, and then moved swiftly to grab me.

It was Lallan! Parvati's husband! He was standing right next to me, looking very angry, just as I was alone in front of my house drunk on a foggy night! My heart sank.

I tried to yell and call for help. But I couldn't.

Lallan pressed one hand firmly on my mouth muffling my sounds of protests and with the other pulled my hair really hard. My purse and phone dropped from my hands as I waved them trying to fight him off. If I were sober, I would have been able to. I am 5 ft 8 and have an average built. I was six inches taller than him and probably weighed more too. But with half a dozen drinks in my system, I wasn't exactly well coordinated. And although short and thin, he had a really strong grip. He kept muffling any sounds from my mouth and pushed me against the door even harder.

I tried to kick him, especially aiming for his crotch. But the high heels made me lose my footing and I almost fell down. He kept his grip on my hair and mouth and bent down as my legs gave way, all the while muttering obscenities,

"You arrogant two-faced bitch...you make my wife leave me because I drink and now you are traipsing around town getting drunk..."

Finally my flailing hands made an impact. My palm landed right on his face resulting in a loud resounding slap. He was stunned for a moment by how hard I slapped him. But then I saw rage flash in his eyes as he took his hand off my mouth and responded in kind. He slapped me very hard back-handed across my right cheek. The force of that slap made my face sting and brought even more tears to my eyes. I was stunned for a couple of seconds.

"HELP!! HELP!!" I shouted, taking advantage of my mouth now being open. Hopefully one of the neighbors would hear me. But he immediately put his hand on it again. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gagged me with it. I guessed I wasn't the first person he had gagged because he did it with expertise. Shoving the rolled up fabric into my mouth and then with two fingers, pushing it all the way in so it pressed down on my tongue and against my tonsils, cutting down the air supply to my mouth. I tried to dislodge the gag with my tongue, but to no avail. My nose was now the only source of oxygen.

He then grabbed both my hands by the wrists and held them behind my back. Squatting behind me, he reached towards the keys that had fallen on the ground when he lunged at me. Still struggling, I heard him put the key in the lock and turn it. Our combined weights against the door made it open instantly. He still had both my hands in a tight grip and using my wrists, he pulled me into the house. I had left the lights on, knowing I would be drunk getting home. I had no idea this would unwittingly make his vile task easier.

I heard the door slam shut behind us. I was flailing and kicking with my legs, but all it was making me do was rotate around on my butt helplessly.

"Stand up!" he whispered pulling my arms up painfully behind my back. My heels slipped a couple of times as I tried to get on my feet, not to obey him, but thinking that standing up, I might be able to fight him off. But I wasn't able to. Much of my motor skills were being expended in staying in balance on the heels. I still struggled hard, hoping to catch him off guard for even one second.

"Umggghhhh!" I groaned as he pulled me closer and punched me hard in the side. That made me lose my breath.

"Stop fighting or I will punch you in the chest and crack your ribs." he said, pushing me around. And then punched me again. Even as I was struggling for my own survival, I could not help but this of how he must have assaulted Parvati like this.

I was still trying to wrestle my arms free. It did not seem to be working.

"Nice big house you live in, you rich bitch. Living in these nice houses and then breaking up the homes of us poor people? Don't you have any shame?" he said angrily.

Suddenly I felt his grip on my wrists loosen. I swerved around and swung my hand to hit him. But he easily ducked out of the way. And then he balled his hand into a fist and punched me in my stomach hard. That made me double over in pain and brought more tears to my eyes. He grabbed one wrist again and started pulling me towards the seating area. Even as he dragged me, I landed a couple of kicks on his shins, but it didn't stop him.

"Move, you fat cow, unless you want to me turn you into a cripple!" he whispered ominously in my ear as I stumbled towards a couch. I was still trying to fight him off, but by now exhaustion from the struggle had crept in, adding to my already dulled motor controls because of all the drinks. My resistance was having very little effect on him. He finally dragged me towards the back of a couch and held me against it, the edge of the backrest digging sharply into my stomach. he pulled my wrists behind my back again. I was still trying to kick at him with whatever strength I had left, but by now he had figured out the angles to avoid them.

"I can smell how drunk you are, you whore." Lallan said a little breathlessly as he reached for the decorative throw resting on the top of the couch backrest. It rubbed against my stomach as he pulled it off. "And yet you are fighting like a feisty cat."

I felt his grip on my wrists loosen but only momentarily. Before I could react and bring my arms forward, I felt the fabric being tightened around my wrists. It hurt as he knotted it really hard twice, and tied up my hands. I tried to move them but soon they were affixed against my lower back.

"Will you fucking stop this nonsense with your legs?" he said in an irritated tone of voice and kicked me really hard on my right knee. More tears sprang forth.

As the kick made me pause my struggles, he grabbed my hair and pushed my body forward. The roots of my hair hurt as he dragged my head forward and then down until my face was touching the seat of the couch. He put the other hand in the front of my thighs and pushed them up. Soon my left cheek was on the seat of the couch, my torso was resting against the front of the backrest and my hips were on the top of the backrest. My legs were in the air and I tried to put them back on the floor, but my weight towards the front made it difficult with my hands tied.

Soon I was motionless, slung over the couch backrest like a foldable piece of cardboard. All I could see was the side of the couch through my watery eyes. I had tried kicking my way out of that position, but it was futile.

Lallan let me go once he was sure I couldn't free myself from that position. It seemed like an eternity since his hands were not touching my body, although it had been just a couple of minutes. There was silence for a few moments, disturbed only by heavy breathing from the two of us. The way my face was turned, I couldn't see him. But I could smell his sweat. My tears soon formed a small pool under my cheek.

"Damn, that's one fine ass." he said and then I felt a hard spank land on my butt. It stung even through my skirt and my panties. "I am sure lots of dicks have gone up it, huh, you arrogant slut? Breaking up families while you whore around?" Another hard spank. I tried to shake my head in refusal.

"Oh, the bitch wants to say something?"

He moved to the side of the couch and lowered his face so we were looking into each other's eyes. He then slapped my upturned cheek lightly.

"I want to hear you speak too. So let's make a deal." With his left hand, he grabbed my left pinky resting against my lower back and pulled it back. "I will take the gag out. Just so we can have a civilized conversation. But you try to scream...and..." he pulled the pinky back even more making me wince in some pain, "...and I will snap your finger off and REALLY give you something to scream about. Understood?"

I nodded the best I could.

Lallan held my pinky between his left thumb and forefinger, stretched backwards and ready to snap. With his right hand, he pulled the handkerchief gagging my mouth. I inhaled loudly through my mouth, feeling a sense of relief. For a moment, I considered yelling for help, but I could feel the pressure of his fingers on my pinky. I knew he was demented enough to break it.

I decided instead to appeal to his conscience and sense of personal well-being.

"Lallan!" I said gasping for breath, "Have you gone mad? Let me go and stop all this before...OWWW"

He had pulled me finger to the very edge of snapping the bone, but just held back.

"Before what, you rich arrogant bitch? What do I have to lose? You have already taken away from me what I really care about - my family."

"Lallan, be reasonable. I didn't take anything from you. You are the one who mistreated your wife. I was only looking out for her. I was helping her!"

"Looking out for her? Helping her?" He brought his face right next to mine and hissed. "So that's how you do it? By breaking up a family?"

"Lallan, just...just untie me and we can talk about this." I said, trying to sound reasonable. "Let's talk about your problems before you do something you regret."

"Do something I regret? Oh that's rich!" he got up and moved out of my sight.

I struggled around to get myself off the couch, but it didn't work. I heard the sound of metallic clangs coming from the direction of the kitchen. Lallan was going through my utensils. A couple of minutes later, the sounds stopped. I heard his footsteps as he walked towards me again.

"You see this, bitch?" the blade of my sharpest kitchen knife was waved in front of my eyes. "Do I need to spell it out?"

I just whimpered in fear. Lallan poked at my neck with the tip of the knife, making it hurt without breaking the skin. The threat was enough to make me stop moving altogether. He then traced a circle moving the tip of the knife until it was behind my neck. And then there was a sound of a metallic rip as he cut the back of my top. He put the knife next to my face and then ripped my top behind my back until the rip went under my tied hands and all the way to the hemline. He picked up the knife again and swiftly sliced the sleeves too. Within seconds, my top was in pieces that he had pulled away.

Now only a bra covered my body from waist upwards.

"Lallan...please..." I finally mustered the courage to speak again, although my voice was barely audible "...please let me go. I beg you."

He only uttered a derisive snort in response. He put the knife next to me again. Then I felt his teeth biting parts of my bare back all over as his body clung to mine.

"OUCH! That hurts!" I cried out in response to a particularly hard bite on my shoulder.

"It's supposed to hurt, you bitch!!" Lallan said and slapped my cheek hard.

For the next couple of minutes, Lallan continued to bite and slobber all over my back. His crotch was slowly humping my body and I could feel an erection forming in his pants as it thrashed against my thighs. I was just sobbing throughout. I had never been manhandled in my entire life. This was a completely new experience. Finally, i just gave up and lay there motionless except for my sobs and wheezes, praying that all this was just a nightmare.

After most of my back was covered with a sheen of his saliva, Lallan stood up. He picked up the knife again. I felt its cold blade against my lower back as he slid the tip into my skirt and pulled. The sharp edge sliced through the fabric easily and he pulled it all the way down, cutting my skirt down the back. The front of the skirt brushed against my thighs as he pulled it away and threw it on the floor.

I was now propped up on the backrest of my couch wearing just my bra and thong panties. I usually didn't like wearing thongs. But that night, I was wearing a nice tight skirt, so I thought a thong would be better to avoid panty lines. Little did I know that it would mean even more humiliation as this bully forced himself on me.

I closed my eyes and hoped against hope that somehow Lallan would change his mind and let me go. But that was not to be.

"Look at these undies!" Lallan said and ran his fingers over my bare butt cheeks visible because of my thong. "What is the point of even wearing them? There's hardly any fabric! Your whole ass is on display."

And then he spanked my ass a couple of times.

"Tell me, memsaab, what is the point of wearing these?"

I was in neither the mental state nor did I have the willingness to explain to him that thongs are worn under tight skirts to avoid panty lines. Not that he was expecting an answer from me anyway. He grabbed the back of my thong with one hand and pulled it down until it felt down from around my suspended ankles.

"Mmmmm...nice shapely round milky white ass!"

He stood still for a few seconds just admiring my naked ass. I shut my eyes even tighter, trying to fight off the image of what he must be seeing. I was now naked except for my bra, suspended over the back of the couch, at the mercy of this two bit bully. My legs were hanging in the air, parted in the thighs. I doubt I had ever been in a more humiliating position in my life.

"Let's take a look at that cunt!" Lallan said and threw the knife on the floor, making a clanging sound. Then he put the fingers of both his hands inside my butt crack and parted my butt cheeks.

I instinctively clenched.

He didn't like that. He started spanking the fleshiest parts of my ass cheeks hard and then planted a couple of hard slaps on my pussy. I was yelping in pain as he rained more slaps on my most delicate parts a few more times until I coaxed my body into not resisting anymore.

"That's better!" Lallan said and ran his coarse fingers all over my ass and my pussy. I was feeling humiliated at how he was violating me. The tears were still flowing and my mouth had settled on a sad whiny sob. Lallan finally tried to insert a finger inside my vagina.

"What the hell, slut? You're as dry as an old hag!"

As if to confirm, Lallan thrust his hips forward and his thick moist dick touched the inside of my thighs. With his hands, he positioned it to enter me, but it wouldn't go in. He tried to force it in and I wailed out in pain.

Lallan grabbed my hair and pulled me back. My feet finally touched the floor as my stomach slid off the couch. He turned me around to face him. I looked down into his bloodshot eyes. His face wore an expression of rage. He slapped me hard a couple more times and yelled,

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO DRY???"

Part of me wanted to scream out - of course I am dry, you sick son of a bitch. You are trying to bang me! But as he slapped me a few more times, all I could say was..

"I'm...I'm sorryyy..."

"You're not getting away with just a dry cunt!"

And Lallan pushed me to the floor. He made me lie down on my back, my tied arms between my back and my floor. He then pulled both my legs up by my ankles and with his right foot, pushed my shoulder until my ass was resting against the back of the couch. He then pushed my legs down so my knees were pressing against my shoulder and my feet were on the floor above my head. If I thought that earlier position was humiliating, this was even worse, my body twisted like a pretzel.

[elite1392]

I opened my eyes to see a sick disgusting sight. Lallan's hairy ass, parted just a couple of feet above me, giving me a glimpse at his asshole, his hairy balls and his erect swinging dick. It wasn't particularly large or thick. At about six inches, a little smaller than my husband's. And not as thick. I closed my eyes again, shocked and revolted at the sight.

"PTHOO! PTHOO!"

I heard Lallan loudly spit and felt a wetness on my pussy from his spit. He spat a dozen more times all over my crotch and then with one finger, started rubbing the spit into my cunt. He also spat a few times on his dick. Then I felt him grab my ass and pull it up until only my shoulders were touching the floor.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

I screamed as Lallan's dick invaded me despite my dryness. The copious spit had provided enough lubrication for the tip of his dick to breach my cunt.

"Shut the fuck up!" Lallan growled, "Or I'll cut it open with your own knife!"

The menace in his voice made me bite my lip. He spat a few more times on the junction of his dick and my cunt. And then thrust some more. I squealed at a high pitch but low volume, biting my lip.

I kept biting my lip and squealing. He kept spitting and thrusting. In a couple of minutes, he had penetrated me completely, and the friction had made my pussy release some juices on its own. Soon it stopped hurting. At least physically.

I opened my eyes again. And here's the depraved sight I saw. My thighs on either side of my face. My boobs partly spilling of the bra, resting against my collarbone. And almost right above me, my cunt lips, parted as Lallan's dick pistoned in and out of them, his hairy ass swinging back and forth.

"How do you like it now, huh, bitch? Destroying my family, turning my wife against me...how do you like it now? You arrogant snotty..."

And Lallan continued abusing me as he kept fucking my pussy hard and fast. Dazed, I looked at his dark hairy ass swing above my face and winced at every stroke of his dick. It was happening. It was really happening. This vile bastard was fucking me. He was banging me. And there's nothing I could do about it.

Around this time is when the last semblance of resistance completely exited my being. I more or less relaxed my tensed up body. I closed my eyes. The tears dried up. And the only utterances from me were involuntary rhythmic yips in response to Lallan's strokes.

Lallan fucked me in that weird position, my body folded like a matchbook, for about five more minutes. The verbal abuse and the slaps kept coming too.

"Rich whore! Getting drunk, trolloping around with me, and destroying the lives of poor people. I'll teach you a lesson."

I had more or less zoned the abuse out. At that moment, oddly enough, the only thought in my mind was how uncomfortable my tied up hands felt against my back.

Finally, Lallan took his dick out. I thought he was about to cum. But instead he got on his knees and dangled his dick over my face.

"Open your mouth wide, slut!" he commanded. "And if you as much as attempt to bite it, I'll shove that whole knife up your cunt!"

He shoved his wet dick inside my wide open mouth. His balls rested on my nose as the tip of his dick hit the back of my throat making me gag. But I couldn't move enough to take his dick out of my mouth. As his dick invaded my mouth, his tongue invaded my cunt. He 69-ed with me for a few more moments. He was surprisingly good with his tongue, knowing exactly where and how to use it against my clit. I tried to resist the waves of pleasure, reminding myself that this was not a fun consensual thing. Thankfully, he stopped with the 69ing soon.

As he got up, he pulled my ass up as much as he could until my torso was almost vertical. Then came the hard spanks. Really hard. Not playful stuff. He was raining blows on my ass to make it hurt.

"Pleeeeeeease...stoooooooooooop!!" I begged.

He stopped.

He reached out with his left hand and picked up the knife.

I started whimpering, fearing the worst when he said,

"Relax!"

The blade sliced through the fabric tying my hands together. Finally, that discomfort was gone. I slid my hands out from under my back. He paused, as if to see if I would start flailing them again and hit him or fight him or anything. But by this time, I was too exhausted. I just let them rest on the side.

He turned around to face me. He pushed my knees down even more and barked,

"Hold your ankles with your hands!"

I did as I was told. He then put his hands on my calves, bent his knees and entered me again. By now I was not dry. In fact, I was a little ashamed to note, that I was extremely lubricated, much more than with my husband.

"Open your eyes and LOOK AT ME!"

My hands on my ankles, my knees next to my ears on the floor, and my thighs open as my cunt was pistoned by his dick, I looked into his eyes. He stared at me, an evil grin on his face, as he fucked me. And then he spit. And he spit some more. My face was covered with his spit. But I didn't look away. I stared at him, expressionlessly. He kept drilling down into me. For what seemed like hours.

But it was only a few minutes when I felt something inside me. A strange spasm. Not exactly a spasm. Not painful. But something really overwhelming. What the hell was this? Was I about to pee? My hips started trembling over and beyond Lallan's strokes. And then suddenly, I started convulsing as if possessed. And Lallan started chuckling and started drilling me even harder. A trillion nerve endings seemed to come alive inside me and a tidal wave of sensations washed over me.

What was happening to me?

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"

Lallan took one hand off my calf and put it on my mouth to muffle my scream. I trashed about for what seemed like an hour but was probably 30 seconds, until my body ceded control back to me, and I stopped.

I could still hear the rhythmic squelching sound of his cock ramming my cunt as I regained control of my senses. And the realization hit me. And it made me start crying again.

I had just had an orgasm. The first ever vaginal orgasm of my life. I had read about them. My husband had often tried to bring me to one, with his penis as well as his fingers. But I had never had one. I had also read that many women just couldn't have them. I had always assumed I was one of those women. Until now. Now I had had one. And that too while I was being bangd by a disgusting monster.

I was thinking about all this when Lallan withdrew his dick from my cunt and stood up. I let out another sob as I realized that my hips had involuntarily moved upwards to pull him back in. My body was betraying me.

"Get up!"

Lallan forcefully pulled me to my feet holding my hair. I felt a cramp in my thighs and my knees buckled, making me fall back down.

"I said UP!"

He pulled me up and started dragging me towards the bedroom wearing nothing but a bra that my boobs were spilling out of. Oh god, this man was now going to defile me in the very bed my husband and I slept in. I tried to resist, but he kept dragging me there.

"Please, not in there!"

"No one asked you for permission, slut!" he said and spat at me. A big glob of his saliva hit me on my cheek.

Soon I had been thrown on my bed and then made to get on all fours like a dog. My bra had been taken off, and with it the last vestige of modesty. I had then been entered and fucked doggy style, the bedposts creaking with the motion. I groaned with each stroke as he rammed into me hard. I could see us in the dressing mirror next to the bed. What a ghastly vulgar scene we made, me bent over with with my big tits squashing against the bed and my ass raise in the air. Lallan, short and wiry, but very energetic and pounding me with intensity.

I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to somehow pass out or fall asleep or something, so I would not have to live through this. But my eyes opened with shock as the lout shoved two fingers in my ass.

"AAAAHHHH!!"

"No need to scream, bitch. I know women like you love getting buggered."

The pounding continued as did the anal invasions with his fingers. I hated myself for the fact that my body was responding favorably to him. I didn't want to. My mind didn't want to. But what I saw in the mirror was a woman clearly enjoying the sex, even the fingers in the ass. It was like watching someone else while still knowing there was no one else. It was me. I was being fucked in my own bed by some random slum dog. And acknowledging that somehow seemed to coincide with another orgasm that I had been working hard to stave off. And that made Lallan start cumming too.

The bed creaked even more as the two of us throbbed and grunted to climax at the same time.

Lallan finished pumping the last of his seed inside me, puled his fingers out of my ass, and then rolled over on his side. I stayed on all fours, still breathing heavily, my ass up in the air, and his jizz dripping down the inside of my thighs. Lallan propped himself up on his elbow and started playing with my tits.

"You came twice." he said matter-of-factly.

The tears started again. I covered my face and started sobbing.

"Stop crying." he growled but I couldn't.

It wasn't enough that I had been bangd. But I had actually had orgasms during it. How could that be? How could a worthless psychotic unemployed guy from the slums make me cum the way my handsome caring educated husband never had.

Lallan rolled off the bed and stood up. He went outside the bedroom and for a moment I was relieved, thinking he had left. But in a few seconds, I heard his footsteps come back. I turned my head away and kept my eyes closed, not knowing what he would do next. I was grimacing and bracing for the next indignity. Nothing happened though.

I opened my eyes and was shocked and saddened by what I saw. Lallan had a phone in his hand and he was snapping pictures of my naked curled up body from all angles.

"Please don't." I said, trying to pull a blanket over myself.

"Don't worry, memsaab. These are just for my private enjoyment. I won't whatsapp them to anyone. As long as you behave."

There was an edge to his voice. My shoulders slumped again, knowing there wasn't much I could do as of now to stop him. I rolled off the bed and struggled to stand up on my feet. There were aches all over my body.

"Where are you going, bitch?"

"Bathroom." I weakly said.

"Hmm...leave the door ajar. I don't want you trying some nonsense in there."

As I relieved myself, cringing at the open door, Lallan stayed outside, but talking.

"Parvati says you're a smart woman. So I don't need to spell it out. But I will. You need to rectify the blunder you made when you destroyed my family. You need to tell me where Parvati and my daughters are so I can go join them. And bring them home. If you don't do that or go to the security officer, these images of you will be splashed on every phone and every website and pretty soon every new channel. Your bosses, your colleagues, everyone will see how your shaved pussy looks and will be able to count the moles on your ass."

I said nothing. Finished peeing. Then cleaned myself up, washed my face and walked out.

"Well?" he said.

"Well what?" I asked, standing there naked next to him.

He slapped me.

"Where are my wife and daughter, you bitch?"

"I have no idea. I seriously don't know...please...no please just listen..."

Lallan had picked up a bathroom slipper by the bed and was pulling me towards him.

"A few smacks on that big round ass with a rubber chappal and you'll remember."

"But I swear that the information is kept...AAAAAA"

Rubber on naked ass skin hurts. It really hurts! I had never been manhandled or beaten before in my entire life, so I had no parameter or frame of reference to compare. But it hurt. Much more than his spanks.

Soon I was once again a sobbing quivering mess, curled up on the floor as he kept yelling at me to tell him. Finally I cracked under torture like many people do. I lied.

"Surat...she is in Surat."

He stopped hitting me.

"Where in Surat?"

"The exact address will be in the office files. We can do there in the morning." I wiped my tears while on the floor.

"We? What are we, a picnicking couple?" he growled. "You will get that information and give it to me."

My ass still stung from the chappal blows as I tried to stand up. Lallan walked away to the living area. I was hoping that maybe he would leave. But the night was far from over. I saw him walk towards our liquor cabinet.

"Hmmm...nice expensive imported booze."

He picked up a bottle of cognac and took a big swig from it. I stood tentatively for a few seconds looking at him, then walked towards the couch.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed." I said.

"Did I say you could get dressed?" he asked in a menacing voice.

"No." I whispered in fear.

"Come here."

As I walked towards him with uncertain steps, he snapped a few more pictures with his phone between swigs of my expensive brandy. He was drinking that refined flavorful liquid like it was country hooch.

"Have some." he pushed the bottle towards me.

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"You stupid whore, do you like getting hurt? When will you realize that what I say to you are commands, not requests. Why don't you save yourself pain by just complying?"

I sighed, took the bottle and had a small sip.

"Big sips. Biiig sips, that's it." he said while taking pictures of me naked with the bottled tipped at my mouth. "I don't know why you're being so coy about it. When I grabbed you outside, you were clearly drunk. So it's not like you're some nun or sadhvi. I know you get drunk and whore around every night."

"Not every night." I protested.

"Haha, so you admit that you whore around?" he laughed maniacally about catching me in a verbal corner.

My throat burned with the chugs of the cognac. It was my husband Anup's. He was the one with the interest in brown liquors. I was more into wine and sweet cocktails. So the swigs of the strong booze started making me feel warm and also a little tipsy right away.

"This is what I hate about you rich people who pretend to care about social work and all that. In your office, you're like a Mother Teresa, being smug and lecturing people and telling poor people nasty things. But then you come home and wear these slutty clothes and buy expensive booze and that makes you modern."

I stayed quiet. It didn't seem like he was looking for a reply anyway. He was ranting.

"Lallan spends hundred rupees on some country booze and he is an evil monster his wife should leave. Shikha memsaab spends thousands of rupees on booze and she is posh."

"Wasn't about drinking." I muttered. I had been standing there naked for a while and by now had lost an sense of self-consciousness about my nudity.

"What did you say?"

"Parvati leaving you. It wasn't about drinking. It was about the beating. You drank and you beat her up until she was badly hurt."

"So what? It was just a little playful slapping around. Besides, why single me out? All men hit their wives sometimes when the wives misbehave. I am sure your chocolate hero there has slapped you around." he pointed towards a picture of Arun and me on the mantle.

"No. Never." I defiantly said as he pushed the cognac bottle back in my hand and started opening a tequila.

"Don't lie. I'm not the security officer. You can be honest." he chuckled.

"I am serious."

"Well then he is a wimp. Has no balls. No wonder you hollered so hard while cumming twice from my fucking. You needed a real man."

I winced at the shameful memory and took a couple of big swigs of the cognac.

"You stupid cunt...you stupid stupid cunt." he said angrily. "I did what you wanted and what Parvati wanted. Cut down on booze. Got a job. And while I was away, you fucked me over, didn't you? I couldn't believe it when one of my friends in the neighborhood told me that my wife and girls were gone. And there was a warrant for my arrest. Because of you, I now have a security officer record, you cunt."

There was a flash of anger in his eyes. He grabbed the cognac bottle from my hand and put it on the side. Then he put one hand on my shoulder and pushed me down on my knees in front of him. His naked dick was flaccid. He waved it around in front of my face.

"Suck it and make it hard again." he said. "I am not even close to finished with you tonight."

"Please Lallan, I beg you. Not this. I don't like it." I had never been into giving blowjobs. Not with my exes, not with my husband. It was something I always found disgusting and the few times I tried it, I would gag and retch.

"Oh ok I see." he said sounding reasonable. I was relieved, but just for a second. Because soon I was doubled over because of the kick to my stomach.

I had no choice. I had no say over anything. I straightened, closed my eyes, opened my mouth and took his dick in.

"Suck it properly, you cunt. not like you're eating a toffee. Better. Yes. Use your fingers on my balls. Good. And open those lovely big eyes and look up at me."

I could taste the bitter mix of my juices and his on the dick. I fought off the gag reflexes and started following his directions, looking up at his eyes. Of course, he took a few pictures of that and even a short video, of me naked on my knees with his dick in my mouth.

"Obviously, as soon as I heard about all that, I rushed back. Use your tongue. Around the head. Yes. Had to be careful, avoiding the security officer and others. Went back to my home but spotted the constables in our alley. Couldn't even go to my own home because of you. Take it all the way in, bitch. And then I remembered. Sector G4. House 134. The whole address you had mentioned that day."

That solved one puzzle that had been bothering me all night. How did he land up at my door? Of course, that day my cousin had called and stupidly, I blurted out my whole address in front of Lallan.

"And so I come here to confront you. And what do I find? The nasty bitch who made my wife leave me because I drink and whore around is going around doing the same. You hypocrite. I told you to look at me. Up, in my eyes. Yes. Suck it nice and deep. Yes. That's it you rich cunt."

For the next few minutes, he kept berating me as I sucked his cock to an erection. I had gotten used to the feel of the wet hard meat in my mouth by now and the gag reflexes had stopped. In fact I started sucking his dick with some enthusiasm, hoping that if I made him cum, I would be spared another round of fucking. But ten minutes passed and he was still hard and had still not cum.

"Get up, cunt." he slapped me lightly on the cheek and said.

I got back on my feet, wiping the saliva from my lips with the back of my hand. He chuckled and took a couple of pictures of that.

"The great high and mighty Shikha memsaab. Passing judgment on poor people and interfering with their lives. And now look at Shikha memsaab. Naked, drooling, and about to get fucked in the ass."

"No please." I pleaded. Was there no end to his depravity?

"Shut up. I'm sure a slut like you gets fucked in your ass all the time."

"Never. Never ever. And it will hurt." I begged him to see reason.

"Well I had never ever had my family taken away from me and believe me, that hurt."

What was happening? Why was this happening to me?

---

I wanted to cry but I think my tear ducts had dried up. This thug was in my house, having just fucked me and made me suck his dick. And now he was calmly telling me that he was about to sodomize me. What had I done to deserve this? I was only doing my job, trying to help a woman. And this is what I was getting in return?

I just stared at him open-mouthed and my head swam. With the shock of the situation and also all the booze he had made me drink. I was swaying a little, having a hard time standing straight. He had a sadistic smile on his face.

[elite1392]

"Don't look so shocked, cunt. You will like it. Parvati used to find it scary at first too. But I now fuck her in the ass regularly and she enjoys it. And she is this thin tiny person. You are tall and voluptuous, lots of padding. You've taken my beatings very well. Buggering will be fine. Have some more booze. It helps relax your muscles. Why do you think I have been making you drink so much?"

And then he picked up the bottle of cognac again and put it to my mouth. Glug after glug went down my throat as the bottle stayed tipped upwards. I didn't resist it. The weird logic actually made sense to me. Being drunk could certainly make the inevitable buggering a lot less painful. Heck, if I was lucky, I would pass out and not feel a thing nor remember a thing.

The next bit of time is still hazy in my memory. Lallan had made me drink over half a liter of extra strength cognac in twenty minutes. I had already been drunk after the celebration with my friends. This just added to it. I was slurring, I was swaying, Lallan was having to hold me up as he laughed and taunted me.

"The high and mighty Shikha memsaab, swaying drunk and naked like a common bar dancer. Hahaha. This needs to be on video."

I found myself back in the bedroom and on the bed, slumped on my elbows and knees. Memory of it is hazy. But I remember Lallan walking around, taking a video with commentary.

"So here you see a high class slut named Shikha. So drunk that she is almost passed out. Look at that big round ass. Look at those pink cunt lips. I fucked that earlier. Very tight twat. Loved it. Now look at that cute puckered asshole. Soon I will be shoving my dick there."

The bed creaked as he got on it. Behind me. I could see a bottle of moisturizer in his hand that he had picked up from my dressing table. And then I remember feeling that cool slippery gel being poured on my ass and rubbed all around.

"You see how nice I am, Shikha memsaab? The state you're in, I could just shove my dick into your asshole dry. And you wouldn't be able to do anything. But I am being considerate about your well being. So putting this will make it easier."

I watched with half-open eyes as he poured the moisturizer all over his erect dick, the dick that I had made erect by sucking. And then he got behind me. I felt his hands on my ass cheeks, parting them.

"Unghhhhhh!!" I groaned as the tip of his dick pushed against my asshole.

It hurt, but it did not hurt as much as I feared. Maybe he was right, I thought. The combination of all that booze and all that moisturizer made this easy.

"I can't believe I am the first to fuck you in the ass. Your ass isn't as tight as Parvati's." Lallan said slowly shoving more of his dick inside my virgin ass. Of course, he was taking a video of it too.

And then the pain increased as more of the dick entered my asshole. I could see the image in the mirror. And I am ashamed to say, it felt kind of weirdly good. I closed my eyes, unable to watch myself and Lallan in the mirror. Everything went dark.

--Part 1 ENDS--

[elite1392]

(PART-2)

A loud truck horn woke me up. I opened my eyes, was blinded by the bright sunshine, and closed them again. I slowly opened them again and tried to make sense of where I was. And why it was so bright.

What the hell? I was on the roof of our house, curled up naked under a thin sheet that was half covering me. My first instinct was to pull it to cover everything, and then sit up. I was buck naked with just a sheet on the roof. The roof that was visible to a bunch of other houses and buildings all around. I had no recollection of how I got there. In fact I had no recollection of anything at all.

And then it all started coming back to me. The celebration with my friends. Then Lallan forcing himself on me. The fucking, the blowjob, vague flashes of the sodomy. But that's where it ended. What had happened after he invaded my asshole on my bed? How did it I end up here on the roof?

Carefully, I looked around. None of the immediate neighbors were on their roofs, thankfully. I scanned the balconies of the buildings. I saw some people. I didn't know of they saw me. Luckily, I was in a relatively secluded corner of the roof and not far from the door.

I wrapped the sheet around my naked body and walked into the house.

"Hello?" I called out. "Lallan?"

I walked down the stairs. The house seemed empty. It was a mess though. Furniture and other stuff knocked over, four empty liquor bottles on the cabinet, plates of food spread around the living area. Jesus, what all happened last night?

I could not think too much because my entire body was hurting. My head throbbed. My arms hurt, my thighs were sore. My cunt felt like it had been pummeled with rocks. But the worst was my sore asshole. It hurt and it was sticky. Lallan had definitely and successfully sodomized me.

And then I heard my phone ringing. I didn't know where it was. I followed the sound and found it under one of the couches in the living room.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey honey, how's it going?" It was Anup, my husband.

I tried to say something but no words came out.

"You there, Shikha?"

"Yeah....yeah I'm here." I said, laboriously walking around the house, trying to see if Lallan was still around.

"Haha, you sound hungover. Looks like the Stanford celebration was really wild." he said in his usual good humored way.

"Yes, wild. Very wild." I said, clutching my throbbing head.

"So....what else is new?" he casually asked.

And I had a long answer ready at the tip of my tongue. What is new is that your wife has just been bangd by a random sadistic slum thug. He even fucked her in the ass. And made her give him a blowjob, something which she still doesn't do for you. But instead, I just said,

"Not much. Listen, I am late for work. Can I call you later?"

"Sure, honey. Love you."

"Love you too."

I disconnected the call and then checked my phone. It was a little past 9 in the morning. There were a couple of missed calls from Anup. Then a couple of missed calls from a number I did not recognize. And a text message in Hindi from the same number.

- Fun night. Address by 3 pm. Or it all goes on whatsapp.

I then opened whatsapp and saw that Lallan had sent me dozens of pictures and videos. Of me naked, bending over, sucking his dick, getting fucked. I was barely able to get through a handful of them before closing the app.

I slumped to the floor. So it was not all some nightmare. It really happened. My perfect life, with the perfect husband and the perfect future, had been shattered because of one stupid mistake. That of saying my address out loud in front of Lallan.

I went to the bathroom, started the shower and just stood under it crying, letting the water wash all over me, willing it to clean me of the dirtiness of the previous night.

The most cruel irony here was that the rational and professional side of me, the one who counseled women about the right thing to do, was very clear on what should happen next. I call Inspector Dubey, make a formal complaint that I was bangd by Lallan. That pushes him from just an abusive husband on the run to a full on rapist. The security officer machine kicks into high gear to hunt him down. Given my personal warm relationship with cops, they would take the case very personally and hunt him down before the end of the day. I get therapy myself, come to terms with the trauma of what happened, move on.

Sounded very logical and straightforward. But then, for the first time, I found myself in the shoes of the very women I counseled. And I realized, it's not always that easy.

Lallan had these dozens of pictures and videos of me. Even if he was arrested, or rather, especially if he was arrested, they would be forwarded far and wide. Everyone would see them. I didn't know if I could live down the shame. And more importantly, I didn't know if I would ever get taken seriously in the social work field ever again. Even if it wasn't my fault.

I was in the shower for almost an hour. Finally I dried myself, went back to the bedroom, which was a mess. I could see a bunch of stains on the sheets. I put on a clean pair of panties and a bra. It almost felt strange to have fabric against my skin after being naked for so many hours at a stretch.

Just as I was pulling on some trousers and thinking about what to do next, my phone rang. The screen said "Inspector Dubey".

"Hello?"

"Hi Shikha, how are you doing?"

"Hi Anil." I sounded as tired as I was. And the canny cop that he was, he heard it right away.

"Shikha.....are you okay?" he sounded concerned.

The words got stuck in my throat. No, Anil, I am not okay. I have just been bangd all night by the very sadistic psychotic monster we talked about. Please catch him. But then those pictures and videos flashed in front of my eyes.

"Yeah....just a little tired and hungover. Had a late night celebrating the Stanford admit with some friends." I said.

"Ah okay. Anyway....I am calling with some news about that Parvati-Lallan situation." he said.

"Oh."

"I am afraid I have some bad news. I had a few cop friends in other states track down Lallan's truck after our last conversation. Turns out he's not on it. Looks like someone told him what happened and he is on the run."

"Oh....that's too bad." I said, trying to sound genuinely surprised.

"We will keep an eye out for him of course. But you be careful, okay? You know how these guys can end up blaming social workers for what happened. Just watch your back, and if you see or feel anything suspicious, call me."

Again, the rational part of me was crying out, tell him, TELL HIM!

"Thanks, Anil. Will do."

"Anyway, at least we got the wife and girls out in time. So even if this guy is in the run, at least they are safe. You did great convincing her, Shikha."

"Oh yeah, that's the good thing." I said. "Where did Parvati end up by the way?"

There was silence on the line for a couple of seconds.

"Shikha, you know I can't tell you that." he said in a solemn.

"Oh yes, of course. I understand. I was just thinking, if it isn't too far, I might visit her before going to the US."

"We can arrange for a video conference call if you like."

"That would be great. But there is something much more warm about meeting in person, isn't there?"

He was silent again for a while.

"Shikha, the reason you and I get along so well is we are both absolutely by-the-book people."

"I know. I respect that about you." I said.

"So you, more than anyone else, should realize that I can't share that information with you."

"True. Sorry I asked. I'm just.....hungover." I said.

"Anyway, just be cautious. Look over your shoulder. I have already told the security guys at your office to be vigilant."

"Thanks Anil."

"Alright, I gotta go. Bad guys to catch. Bye, Shikha."

My body still hurting, I continued getting dressed for work. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself carefully. Lallan had been careful not to leave any bruises or scars on my face. None of his slaps had left any trace there. However, my shoulders, arms, stomach, ass, were all covered with blue-black bruises from his handiwork. I wore a full-sleeve kurta on top. Once I got dressed, I also put on make-up, which I rarely did. Mainly to disguise my tired and haggard face.

It still wasn't enough to completely hide something from my colleagues. Almost everyone I met was saying some variant of,

"Shikha, are you feeling okay? You don't look good."

And I would respond with,

"I'm fine, just hungover from a late celebration."

In my office, I just sat staring at my computer for an hour until getting started on my reports and paperwork. I was surrounded by professionals in an NGO dedicated to helping battered and abused women. I had been battered and abused all night. I could just walk into any office and talk about it. But I didn't. I had other things on my mind.

Soon my phone rang again. I recognized the number and my heart sank. I had no choice but to answer.

"Hello."

"How's that ass feeling?" Lallan's arrogant voice seemed to blare in my ear.

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"Yes, I saw your message." I said. And now, in the clear light of day, sober, I tried to reason with him. "Lallan, I really don't have access to that information. The system is designed precisely to stop something like this from happening. To keep a wife's location confidential so the abusive husband doesn't track her and extract revenge."

"Fuck you, cunt. I told you, I don't want to extract revenge. I just want my wife and girls back."

"But I'm telling you I don't....."

"I'm not going to debate you, memsaab. 3 PM. Or you become the latest porn sensation on whatsapp."

And he hung up.

At noon, I was standing on the third floor of our building, just around my boss Mrs. Khanna's office. She ran the whole show. I had a great rapport with her. I also knew her habits. Because of her diabetes, she always left for lunch at the exact same time. So predictable, you could set your watch by it. I waited for her as I mentally rehearsed the story I had come up with.

Sure enough, the door opened, and she walked out with her purse. I walked towards her.

"Oh hi Shikha, were you coming to see me? I'm going for lunch."

"Yes, Mrs. Khanna. I need to print out some reports for the Walters Foundation grant, and my computer is just updating Windows."

"I see. Why don't you use one of the secretary's computers?"

"I need senior level access for those files which the secretary's computers don't have. Do you mind pulling them up for me real quick?"

She looked at her watch and grimaced.

"I really need to eat something, Shikha."

"Oh I am so sorry, I didn't realize...."

"No no, it's fine. Listen." she looked around to make sure we were alone and whispered. "Just log in to my computer and print the reports. My password is newdelhi666, all lowercase."

"Are you sure, Mrs. Khanna? I don't want to invade your privacy."

"Nah, I trust you, Shikha." she smiled. And that stung my conscience a little. "Anyway, I need to go. Help yourself."

I waited until she left and then went into her office. Logged in using her password. And then opened her email client, knowing that she was one person who would have access to the information about Parvati's relocation. And she would certainly have had to exchange that information over email with the security officer and the relocation team. A few quick searches and I had what I needed. I wrote the information on the inside of my left hand, quickly deleted all search logs, closed the windows, and left the office.

Back in my office, I stared at the address for a long time. I was the one who had convinced Parvati to leave Lallan. And now I had to be the one sending him back to her. How could I live with myself after that? No, I couldn't do this. I had to go to the cops, to my bosses, tell them everything.

But then I remembered Anup in sunny San Francisco. The acceptance email from Stanford. And the dozens of naked pics and videos of mine on whatsapp. Did I have a choice?

I sat and just stewed over this dilemma for a long time.

"You really cut it close, cunt." Lallan answered the phone without as much as a hello. "It is 2:56 pm. Just a few more minutes and I would have forwarded it to everyone I know."

"Well, yeah, whatever."

"Okay, so tell me."

"She is in Jaipur."

"Jaipur? I thought you said Surat."

"They changed plans at the last minute." I lied. "She is in Jaipur."

"Okay.....address?"

I was silent for a few seconds.

"Speak up, bitch!"

"Lallan, I need your absolute solemn promise and assurance that you are not going to be violent or abusive to her." I said. "Don't do that, please."

"I already told you, I'm changed." he said sounding sincere.

"Well, stick to that change please."

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what I asked you, bitch."

I sighed.

"Fine. Write it down."

--------

A couple of hours later, Mrs. Khanna came bustling into my office.

"Shikha....I am so confused." she said agitated. "You're resigning with immediate effect? Why???"

"Sorry, Mrs. Khanna. I know it's not fair of me. But there is just so much to do and take care of before moving to America."

"I know. We are preparing for you to leave. But with immediate effect?"

What could I say to her? That I cannot, in good conscience, continue doing my job after betraying one of its key tenets of confidentiality? That I lied and got access to her records to save myself?

"I am so sorry. But.....I need to go to Mumbai for some visa stuff right away anyway."

"Shikha.....this is so sudden."

"I know. I am very sorry."

I was jumpy on my way home. I kept expecting Lallan to jump out from somewhere and force himself on me again. But he was probably on his way to Jaipur.

I got home and started cleaning the mess that Lallan had made last night. I threw out all the bed sheets and pillows that he had come in contact with. I threw out the glasses and plates he had used.

And then I started mopping the floor. With a cloth in my hand. At one spot in the corner, where there was a sticky splotch of what was clearly semen, I suddenly had a random flash back. To sometime in the middle of the night that I had blanked out on til now. Lallan was fucking my mouth in that corner, with me on my knees. And then he started cumming. And he told me to swallow. Which I did. But some cum dripped out the side of my lips. And dropped on the floor. That's what I was looking at now.

I started scrubbing it. Hard. Somehow it seemed stickier than the others. I scrubbed and scrubbed. And then I just curled up there and cried again.

The next few days, I was displaying all the signs of what I myself recognized as post-traumatic bang syndrome. I had seen it from the other side, as a psychologist and therapist. Now I was living it. There was a perpetual sense of self-loathing for a variety of reasons. First was the hypocrisy of my staying silent and betraying Parvati after years and years of telling women to stand up to abusers. I knew the theory, I understood the logic, and I had sanctimoniously lectured lots of women to do the right thing.

And here I was, a privileged, connected, resourceful woman, who was better equipped than any of them to punish Lallan and hold him accountable, put him away for the rest of his life. And I was unable to go through with it. All under the threat of some naked pics being made public.

Another reason for self-loathing was succinctly summed up by one Lallan line that kept replaying in my head. When he had said in a very matter-of-fact way, "you came twice" after the first time he fucked me. It was true. All those dozens of pics and videos he sent me, I finally managed to make myself look at all of them. They told the story of the night in a sequential way that was difficult to ignore. That as the night progressed, I became a lot more willing participant in the activities, and by the end, there was no real threat or force being applied. I watched myself have orgasm after orgasm, in various rooms, in various positions, many times kissing Lallan passionately like a lover.

The mystery of why I ended up on the roof was solved in one particularly humiliating video.

It started to the sound of Lallan chuckling and the camera focused on my naked ass, with the flesh slowly jiggling. Then it zoomed out and I was visible crawling on all four up the stairs, having trouble getting the order of knees and hands right, very clearly drunk.

"Hahaha.....memsaab.....say it again what you said. About your fantasy."

"Want.....fuck......roof." I slurred.

A shiver ran through my body as I watched the video. I had never even come close to acting on this, but it was indeed a secret fantasy of mine for many years, to have sex on the roof. Over the years, Anup and I had taken a couple of calculated risks of outdoor sex, like on a deserted beach and once hiking in the empty wilderness. The peak of that would have been to have sex on our own roof. But obviously, it was such an idiotic risk, surrounded by neighbors who might hear or see and worse, videotape. So we had never taken that idiotic risk.

"Hahahaha....this rich slut told me she has the fantasy of being fucked on her own roof. It is about to get bright soon. And we have been fucking like animals all night. And yet she wants more. In the open."

This commentary continued as I crawled up and up the stairs, negotiating the bend in the stairs with great difficulty, and finally reaching the door of the roof.

That video ended. The next one had the sex on the roof in progress, although it was mostly dark. The phone was in Lallan's hand and you could make out from the moving outlines that I was on top of him and moving without any duress. And from the sounds I was making, clearly having a good time.

The PTSD manifested itself in other ways too. I was continuously paranoid, looking around, expecting Lallan or someone else to jump me at any moment. My heart was always racing. Every hour or so, I would measure my own heart rate and it was always about 40% above my resting heart rate. There was a continuous sense of fear and nervousness. It took a lot of effort to sound normal when talking with Anup over the phone or skype.

Anup didn't suspect anything was too wrong, except in one regard. I used to often do a little flashing or stripping on screen for him as he sat half the planet away. The next few days, I kept refusing to do it, being fully covered, and giving flimsy excuses. Couldn't tell him the truth, about all the bruises and hickeys, could I? Well, I could have, and he would have understood and flown back to take care of me. But I didn't want to. I just wanted to forget all this as soon as possible and start the San Francisco chapter of my life.

Anup was peeved at my sudden and continuing refusal to exhibit myself to him, and we had an argument, which was rare for us. We were one of those couples which never fought, mainly because we were both very easy-going and accommodating by nature. But this time, he got upset and sulked for a couple of days, not calling me, just texting.

Which was in a way fine. I loved talking to and seeing my beloved husband. But in the immediate aftermath of the night with Lallan, it was getting hard to keep up the facade.

Every day for the next few days, I showered four or five times. Again, the psychologist in me recognized the underlying motivations in this, to clean away guilt and a feeling of disgust.

After every shower, I would stand naked in front of the very mirror in which I had first seen Lallan fucking me, and examine the bruises all over my boobs, back, stomach, ass, thighs, arms, and shoulders. And the scientist in me would curiously look at the change in color as the bruises progressed from reddish-blue to green to black-brown to finally a weird looking yellow.

[elite1392]

The pain elsewhere in my body, especially my ass, went away a lot faster than I expected. I had seen slum women get battered and be laid up or in pain for days. Maybe it was the benefit of my genes or my fitness regimen, but I bounced back fast, at least physically.

Non-physically, it was a different story. Bouts of panic and depression and guilt. Fitful sleep, tossing and turning, with recurring flashbacks and nightmares.

The biggest problem was figuring out what to do with my day, now that I had quit my job. Barring occasional holidays and vacations, I had never really had this much free time. Until now, I had always been busy during the week with 12-14 hour days, first studying, and then working. I knew grad college in Stanford would keep me busy too. But the intervening months would be hard, especially dealing with the PTSD.

I tried watching TV and reading books. But my mind wouldn't focus. One morning, about 2 restless days after I quit my job at the NGO, I found myself standing in front of our liquor cabinet.

At 8 AM.

It was Anup's hobby to collect different kinds of fancy booze and keep that push looking cabinet well-stocked, like some regal British aristocrat. His friends and family knew this, so kept sending stuff as gifts too.

Just a few weeks ago, Anup and I had discussed it on Skype.

"Hehe, today Nisha had come over and was admiring your booze collection. And was asking, how will it get used up, with you in the US?"

"Yeah, I have been wondering about that. You're not much of a drinker, at least not of the stuff you have. And you can't bring it all over."

"So what do you think? Give away to friends?"

"Yeah, or have a couple of drinking parties at home with all our friends to finish it. Your call."

"If we decide to give them away, there will be a stampede over the single malts."

"Haha, yeah, it's Delhi. Nothing is as worshiped as single malt."

Over the course of that violent and debauched night, Lallan and I had finished five bottles of hard liquor. I had seen them strewn all around the house. That made it almost two liters each of strong imported alcohol. Enough to cause alcohol poisoning in anyone except the most hardened alcoholic. I think it was the continuous strenuous physical activity of sex that had kept that from happening.

As I thought about that night again, I felt another bout of fear and panic and looked around to make sure I was alone at home. I went to the door and double checked the lock. Then I came back and grabbed the first bottle I could reach for.

It was 8:04 AM. Definitely wayyyyyy to early to get drunk. Maybe just a small drink, to calm my nerves. I opened the cap and without bothering with a glass, just put the bottle to my lip, like Lallan had done it.

The next thing I remember, it was almost noon. The bottle was one third finished. The door bell was ringing in the distance. Maybe it was the numbing effect of alcohol, but for the first time in a while, I did not feel crippling fear or panic. I blinked, got up, and slowly and carefully walked to the door.

"Registered letter." the courier guy said.

"Hmm." I took the pad from him to sign.

I heard him take a loud sniff and grimace a little as I handed back the pad and took the letter. I could see from his face that he had smelled the alcohol on my breath, and was probably judging me, thinking I am one of those rich alcoholic housewives who just sit around all day drinking.

Who cares? The letter had some information about our car insurance. I didn't even bother to open it. Went back to my bottle.

----------

The following week, I took a taxi to my former office. They had been asking me to come in to finish the final paperwork and also do the exit interview, and I had been postponing it for a while using some pretext or another.

I had spent the intervening days nearly perfecting the art of being a conscientious alcoholic. I was easily getting through a bottle or bottle and half of hard liquor a day. But I had to plan carefully to avoid detection. I would schedule my drinking around my Skype calls with my husband and the farewell social visits that I still had to make.

So for example, I would wake up and have a long daily Skype call with Anup, when he was leaving work in California, getting details of his day, putting up the facade of normalcy. He had stopped asking me to flash him and since the bruises were still there, I had not offered. We would get done with that call at about 8 AM. Then the drinking would start. Not leisurely sipping and savoring the drink, mind you. Be it expensive cognac or single malt of flavored vodka or tequila, my approach was to mix with with soda and chug fast. By 11, I would be nice and drunk. During this time, I would masturbate, shamefully, to the images and memories of my night with Lallan a bunch of times. The guilt of this made me drink even more.

Around 11, the masturbation and the booze would prove too much for my system. I'd drift off into a drunken slumber. From which I would awaken at about 2. Then it was time for lunch. Usually I loved cooking, even when I was alone, and made healthy elaborate meals. But not anymore. I'd either just make Maggi noodles or then order delivery from a nearby restaurant.

By the time the food reached, I would have started drinking again. I am sure all the delivery guys also smelled the booze on my breath and saw my bloodshot eyes, and had me pegged as a rich day drinking housewife. I would eat the food, go back to my schedule of drinking and playing with myself, and then pass out around 6 pm.

This nap was shorter. On most days, I had plans to meet some friends or others for dinner. I would wake up, chug a couple of cups of coffee to sober myself up, brush my teeth and use lots of mouthwash, and then go for dinner. Some friends did sense something was off and would ask if everything was okay. I'd just say I was just recovering from a fever. During dinner, Anup would usually call, having just woken up in California. I would excuse myself to talk with him. Then finish dinner, then come home. And drink myself to sleep. And then set an alarm for the next day to wake up for another call with Anup.

This morning, I had to finally go to the office. I had told myself to postpone drinking till I returned. But I was feeling particularly low that morning because Anup and I had another little tiff. He kept insisting there was something wrong that I wasn't telling him. And as tempted as I was, I couldn't bring myself to. There were a lot of angry and passive aggressive jabs at each other. I was in a foul mood.

So I took a few shots of tequila, then did the brush-and-mouthwash thing, and took an Uber to the office, not feeling sober enough to drive.

Have you ever been in that phase of early drunkenness, where you aren't exactly slurring or swaying, and have enough control to act normal? I was in that phase as I reached office. To the discerning eye, it can seem that you might be a bit drunk. But if you are confident and careful enough, you can get through it.

I entered the office and everyone from the cleaning staff to the secretaries to other counselors came to say hi. I had left very abruptly so this was the first chance they had to say goodbye properly. I think I managed those interactions competently. I could still see a couple of brows getting furrowed though. These were people who dealt with domestic issues and behavioral problems on a daily basis, as had I. I am sure I could tell a slightly drunk person, even if their breath smelled of mouthwash. Especially if their breath smelled of mouthwash. There is no reason for someone to have that minty fresh breath at 10 AM unless they are using it to mask some other smell. But no one said anything.

I was sitting in the personnel office filling out the exit forms. The clerk in charge of it either didn't notice or didn't care my mild inebriation. He told me what to do and returned to playing solitaire on his computer.

"There you are, Shikha! I heard you were in!"

I turned around and saw Dr. Nita, the head of the counselling team. She was Mrs. Khanna's boss, so my superboss. Unlike us counselors who had bachelors or masters degrees in psychology with training and experience, she was a full fledged psychiatrist, with a medical degree, a postgraduate degree, and a doctorate from Stanford, with twenty years of experience in the field. Licensed to practice psychiatry in India, UK, and USA. She was the one who had trained me and her recommendation letter had been pivotal in getting me into Stanford.

"Nita ma'am, hi!" I smiled, but felt a little nervous. She was too much of an expert to not read me. She bent down to hug me and I felt her sniff a little too.

"Boring paperwork, huh?" she said pointing at the forms with her eyes.

"It's not that bad." I shrugged. "I'll be done with this soon and then have my exit interview with Mrs. Khanna."

"That's what I came to tell you." she said, smiling. "Mrs. Khanna got called away for a meeting, so I will be doing your exit interview."

My heart sank.

"Oh....it's okay. You must be busy. I can come by later when...."

"Nonsense!" she cut me off. "I am never too busy for our staff, especially not a star counselor like you, headed to my alma mater Stanford. So when you're done here, just come on down to my office. I have an open schedule."

"Alright." I nodded.

Half an hour later, I knocked on the thick wooden door of her corner office nervously. In between, I had run to the restaurant next door and chugged a cold coffee to further suppress my inebriation.

"Shikha, please come in!" she opened the door and ushered me in, after a quick hug.

I had been to the office many times before, but it always intimidated me a little. Her degrees from AIIMS, Cambridge, and Stanford on the wall, next to lots of awards. A plush leather couch where she saw some patients, because she also worked as a psychiatrist. Antique furniture, paintings, a couple of busts of her intellectual idols, everything. She was one of my idols and role models.

I started walking towards the chair at her table, but she pointed me to the couch.

"Please sit here. It will be more comfortable." she said. I didn't know whether to read something into the fact that she was pointing me to the couch she usually sat patients in.

She took a seat in the armchair next to it and said,

"So...Shikha....I was going to offer you coffee, but from breath, I see you just had some."

"Yeah, was feeling a little drowsy." I smiled.

"Can I offer you something stronger, like tequila or whisky? I keep some in the office to entertain the VIP clients and donors." she said.

I just nervously laughed.

"Hahaha, no, it's fine. A bit early for it." I said.

Suddenly her face got very serious.

"Is it?"

I swallowed hard and just stared at her.

"Shikha, please don't insult my intelligence and my expertise. Nor your own."

"Nita....I don't..." although she was 50 years old, she always insisted everyone, from the peon to her subordinates, just call her Nita. No ma'am, no Dr. or Mrs whatever. Just Nita.

"You're drunk. At least you were drunk when you got here. A lot of the others noticed. And it's obvious to me." she sounded stern but also concerned.

"I...I am....well...." I switched to feeling offended. "If you must know, Nita, I did meet some friends for a mimosa brunch before I came here."

"Did you?"

"What are you implying?"

She sighed and sat back.

"Don't be that way, Shikha. You are too smart and too good of a counselor to know what you're doing is classic denial and evasion and turning the tables on me."

I stared at her defiantly. She met my gaze. I looked away.

"I thought this was supposed to be an exit interview about my job." I tried to change the subject.

She sighed again and opened a file.

"Okay, you want to talk about your job? Let's see. This Parvati case of yours. Which has just ended in....."

I cringed....I feared the worst....murder, abuse, something like that. I had betrayed Parvati by hacking into my boss' computer to get her relocation address and given it to her abusive husband.

"...it has ended in the first ever relocation reversal and rejection in our history."

"Excuse me?"

"This woman Parvati, came back to Delhi, and with her husband by her side, came here to talk to you and take back her complaints. We had to call in the security officer and do what she wanted. She is back home. With him, saying she wants to try to make things work. With a man both you and the cop on file, Inspector Dubey, describe as a psychopath."

"Oh! I had no idea!" I said, showing surprise, although inside, I was relieved she was okay.

Nita was staring at me, trying to read my expressions. Then she continued.

"Her official statement says that after relocation, she realized she had made a mistake. And so she contacted the husband. And he came to meet her. And they made up. And they want to give it another go."

"That is.....disappointing."

"I'm sure it is. I can see from the notes and from what I have heard that you worked really hard on this case."

"I did."

"Then what happened? Why do you think she recanted and returned him him?"

I looked at her and gave a small shrug.

"It happens....the cycle of abuse theory as Lenore..."

"Yes, yes, the cycle of abuse theory by Lenore Walker. I know all about it. Don't teach me social psychology, Shikha. I have learned more than you have forgotten." she angrily said.

I was taken aback by this outburst. I just sat there with my mouth open, my mind unable to race fast enough to come up with a palatable lie.

She looked a little embarrassed herself. She looked down at her notes for a few seconds. And then looked me at me.

"Shikha, please. Stop fighting me. Just tell me the truth. I know there is something you are hiding. You were one of our stars. I consider you a beloved protege. I wrote you a glowing recommendation for your PhD. I talked to folks at Stanford about you. You are destined for great things. This.....this makes no sense. You resign with immediate effect. Not even a notice period. You dodge our attempts to get you to come back in for so long. When you do show up, you are drunk in the morning. And this thing happens. Something is off. More importantly, something is wrong. Help me understand it. Just be honest."

"Nita....I.....I don't know..." I put my face in my hands and did my best not to cry.

She got up and joined me on the couch, putting her hands on my kurta. She rubbed the fabric a little, over my shoulder and then my back. I involuntarily took a sharp breath when her fingers rubbed a sore bruise. That made her pause.

"There is one more thing I was wondering about." she said. "It's a really hot day."

I raised my face and looked at her. She had trained me, so I knew where she was going with this.

"I have known you for many many years. You're not a prude when it comes to dressing. And you always favor comfort, I have noticed. When it is a really hot day, I see you in sleeveless kameezes or tops, capris, skirts. Never anything skimpy, but always comfortable. Today it is 42 celsius and you have come in wearing a full sleeve salwar kameez. And just now you....."

She trailed off and looked at me. My shoulders slumped.

I felt her hands slowly reach for my kameez and pull it up. I didn't resist. She pulled it up slowly and gasped when she was the bruises on my back and my stomach.

"I have seen enough." she said and dropped the fabric down.

She got up and paced a little. I just sat there like an errant student staring at my hands, my face red with shame. She spoke after a few seconds.

"Do you have any money in your purse?"

I was taken aback by that question. I looked up and nodded.

"Give me some. Anything. Even a one rupee coin."

I opened the purse, grabbed the first note I found and gave it to her.

"This 20 rupee note can be your first down-payment to hire me as your psycho-therapist. If you want me to serve in that capacity that is."

This was such a confusing development, that I looked at her with a genuinely baffled expression.

"Whatever we talk about in an exit interview can be reviewed by any senior management in the organization. But if you talk to me as a patient, well, I am licensed to practice psychiatry in multiple country, including USA where the patient privacy laws are way stricter than India. So I have to always adhere to them wherever I am. Whatever you tell me....."

".....is covered by doctor-patient confidentiality." I finished her thought, finally getting her point.

I nodded.

"I need a verbal confirmation, Shikha."

"Yes, Nita, I would like you to be my psycho-therapist. Please consider that 20 rupees as my first down-payment."

I exhaled and sat back. Honestly, I felt relieved. Whatever had happened, I had been unable to talk to anyone about it. That made things worse. Now I had a super-qualified and trusted psychiatrist that I could talk to. With the promise of confidentiality. As someone from the field myself, I should have done this on day one.

I was glad she pushed me into it. I opened my mouth and started to talk.

"Soon after I heard from Stanford, I went out to celebrate with some friends. Got a little drunk. I was trying to get inside my home when....."

And I told her the whole story.

----------

It was not easy, but I told her everything, in excruciatingly painful detail. I cried many times, she hugged and comforted me. I got a first hand look at how good of a therapist she was, because she said only the bare minimum things she needed to say and prodded me on. And kept reminding me, none of this was my fault.

Finally, I got to the most difficult part of my confession. How I hacked into Mrs. Khanna's email and got the address for Parvati in Jaipur and gave it to Lallan. her face hardened the most during this, but she just nodded through it. I then told her about my troubles coping with it all, my recent day drinking, and everything.

When I finished, we were both silent for while, me sobbing, and her hugging me.

"First of all, Shikha, I am so so very sorry you have had to go through this." she moved to her chair and started talking. "In our line of work, we do have to put up with such risks. I have had a few unsavory encounters with patients and spouses over the years. But nothing that comes even close."

I wiped my tears and nodded.

"This puts me in a difficult situation." she said. "You have admitted to betraying our confidence and telling the guy the address. That would be a fire-able offense. Maybe you knew that, which is why you resigned with immediate effect."

"I am so sorry." I said.

"I understand." she nodded sympathetically. "At the same time, Shikha, given the job you have been doing all these years, surely you know...."

"Yes, yes, I know!" I said a little too loudly. "I should go to the security officer, have him locked up. I know the theory and I know the logic. But he has all these pictures and videos."

"Shikha, we can work with the cops to do our best to confiscate it all. Even if he somehow manages to forward or post it, we have ways to take it down."

"I don't think so." I said in a flat voice. "I have seen enough instances of leaked revenge porn videos and MMS sex tapes. They never go away. Once it is out there, it is out there."

"Okay, okay, I see what you mean. I cannot imagine what you are going through. I can see your compulsions. I don't agree with your decision, but I see where you're coming from." she said. "Let me ask you this, though. What is your hopeful plan going forward? That he will just leave you alone and forget it?"

I looked at her and nodded, and then said,

"I know it's not ideal. But my hope is, now that he has his wife and daughters back, he will leave me alone. It's a slim hope, but the only hope I have. And then in a few months, I will be in the US, in Stanford, and we will be getting green cards and...."

[elite1392]

"And it won't matter anymore." she nodded. "You are counting on the innate decency of a proven psychopath rapist?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She sighed.

"Shikha, remember what we tell them?"

"You always have a choice." we said in chorus.

"I know. And I get the underlying point. In my case though...."

"Yes, in your case, it is difficult. You feel that way, sitting where you sit. But you are a qualified counselor who has worked with dozens of battered women. Now that you are one yourself..."

"No!" I spoke up.

"No?"

"Please, Nita! I am not a "battered woman" like those women. They stay in marriages, in relationships with those guys. I hate him! I loathe him!"

She just gave me a sad smile and said,

"You just told me you get drunk and masturbate re-living the..."

"That's different!" I almost yelled. I couldn't believe she was using that honest admission against me.

"How is it different?" she tenderly asked.

I sat back and sighed.

"I don't know. It just is."

Nita nodded, then made a few notes. Finally she spoke.

"Shikha, there is a lot more I would like to say. There is a lot to unpack here. But we might have shared information that is already a lot for one session. If we continue, you might get defensive and even emotionally exhausted."

I nodded. I knew the theory.

"Let's meet once a week from now on. As psychiatrist and patient. Do we have a deal?"

I nodded.

Nita got up and went to one of her cabinets on the side.

"Before you go....here is something for you." she said and walked toward me.

It was a small gun. I gasped. She continued,

"I know, you hope he will stay away. But I fear he will be back. I wish I could call the cops and have him locked up for banging you. But I promised you confidentiality. So I can't do that anymore. Unless you change your mind. In the meantime, keep this. It might help."

I took the gun and held it in my hand.

"Do you know how to...." she started saying.

"Yes, my dad was in the army. I have fired many guns." I said.

I thanked her. We said our goodbyes. She made a final entreaty to just come clean to everyone, tell the cops, and have him locked up. I told her I couldn't do that. We made an appointment for the following week. And then I left.

I went home and reached straight for the half opened bottle. But I didn't drink. Talking to Nita made me feel a lot better. I wished I had done it earlier. I put the bottle down, and went to the living room. I turned the TV on and binge watched some comedies on Netflix.

Sober. --

The next couple of days, I felt a little bit better. I was still under a cloud of gloom, but I didn't feel compelled to spend every waking moment drunk. Neither did it mean I was completely fine. I still drank myself to sleep every night. I could spend the bright daylight hours sober, but the darkness of the night brought out the darkness in my mind, and I needed the booze to help me fall asleep.

The panic and fear receded somewhat though. The small gun that Nita had given me gave me a sense of protection, almost like a safety blanket. I kept it next to the door in case Lallan came knocking some time. And I always kept it in my purse when I went out in case he ambushed me.

I still kept hoping he would stay away. But somewhere, deep down, I knew he wouldn't.

And he didn't.

I was home one evening, sober, dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, reading some psychology papers when the doorbell rang. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. And I felt a chill of terror. It was him!

"Memsaab!" I saw his face come close to the outside of the peephole. "I can see your shadow. Please open the door!"

I was terrified. I reached for the gun on the table next to the door. And then said loudly as I looked at him through the peephole,

"Go away, Lallan! You got your wife back. Leave me alone!"

I saw him smile and nod.

"Yes, yes, I did. Thank you for that." he said loudly. "I am not here to do anything to you, I promise. I am not drunk. I am sober. I just want to talk to you and apologize."

"Apology accepted. Go away!" I shouted back.

I saw him sigh and smile. He then took out his phone, played with it, and then held it against the peephole. I could see a video of us fucking in the living room couch, me riding his cock naked without any indication that I was being coerced.

"I don't want to, but I could forward this to a hundred guys right now." he said.

I gulped and stared at how I looked, riding him and moaning.

"And pretty soon, your neighbors will notice the din and come asking." he said.

"Fine!" I yelled.

I took a deep breath, held the gun in my hand, with the safety off, and opened the door. He casually pushed it and walked in.

"Wow, what? Hahaha!" he saw my gun and laughed, not looking intimidated at all.

"Lallan!" I said in a determined voice. "I don't know what you have in mind, but I will ask you to behave."

He put his hands up and smiled. As I saw his short wiry frame, shorter than me, standing a few feet away, I still wondered how he had been able to force me the way he did.

"Okay."

"What do you want?"

"I just want to talk. I promise. I really promise." he said, still smiling. "The gun isn't necessary."

"Well, it makes me feel safe." I said as he closed the door.

His face got serious.

"Memsaab, as I promised, I have not forwarded the pics or videos to the whole world." he said. "But I know you are a rich and connected woman. So I have sent them, as insurance, to a couple of friends."

I kept the gun pointed at him as I processed what he was saying, and frowned. He continued talking.

"If anything happens to me, those friends of mine will send the videos to everyone, including news channels, with the title, Social Worker Fucks Slum Woman's Husband."

I still kept the gun on him and stared at him.

"Come on, relax. Can't you tell I am sober and not angry like last time? You held up your end of the bargain. You gave me Parvati's address. I won her back. We are happy again. Really genuinely happy. I can show you videos if you allow me."

I didn't say anything as he cautiously moved his phone, pulled up a couple of videos and held them in my face. It showed Lalllan and Parvati, hugging each other and looking very happy. Then another video of a small birthday celebration for one of the girls. Another video of all of them eating food at a small restaurant. The videos did paint the picture of a happy family.

"Please, just put the gun away and we can talk, like two adults. Believe it or not, I came to apologize." he said, taking a couple of steps towards me.

"I told you, I accept your apology. Now just...." I started saying, when he suddenly lunged at me and grabbed the gun.

He wrested it away from my hands easily and pushed me away. And now I saw the gun pointed at me.

"Hahaha, memsaab, do you think this is the first time I had a gun pointed at me?"

Shit shit shit, I berated myself silently. Dad always taught us, never let the target get within arms length. I had messed up on that, distracted by his babbling. Now I feared the worst as he had a gun pointed at me.

"Please memsaab, just listen to me." he said. "Sit on that couch over there."

Sad and defeated, I walked to the couch, and sat down. I expected Lallan to plonk himself next to me. But instead he sat on the floor, still holding the gun.

"Good. Please sit. Relax. Listen to me." he said.

I just glared at him angrily.

"Don't....come on....don't look at me like that!" he said, sounding hurt. "You make me feel like a bad person. I am not a bad guy, really. And certainly don't need any guns. Here, I will show you."

I watched as he deftly unclipped the bullet magazine and took it out. Then pulled the barrel back to dislodge the bullet in the chamber, and caught it in his palm, with a fluid rhythm that showed me he knew how to handle guns. He then put the gun, the magazine, and the bullet on the table behind him. And then turned around to face me. I was sitting on the couch, looking down at him.

"What do you want, Lallan?" I said, breathless and angry.

"I told you. I came to apologize. Make amends. Explain myself." he said, sounding sincere.

"Okay."

"Listen, memsaab. Please let me say my piece, and then you can tell me if I am wrong. Okay?"

"Okay."

"That night when I came here, I was drunk and I was angry. My family had been ripped apart from me. I knew you were just doing your job, helping Parvati, pointing her in the right direction. I know the way she describes me and everything, you think I am a monster. I am not a saint, but I am not monster. I love my wife, I love my daughters, and you took them away from me. So I got drunk. And furious. And I.....over-reacted."

"Over-reacted?" I said incredulously. This man was describing a bang and battering as just an over-reaction?

"I know, I know. It was....it was too much." he said, sounding sad. "You're a brain doctor, Parvati says. So maybe you understand. There is this strange.....darkness inside me. Angry overpowering darkness. It has always been there. Since I was a kid. It just....I just....I can't control it, memsaab. Seriously. I want to. The good side of me wants to. Mostly I am a good guy. I love my wife, I love my daughters. And I respect your wisdom and your intentions. You were right in your advice to Parvati. You and she made me see the error of my ways. I decided to change. I want to change."

"Then change!" I angrily said.

"I plan to change, memsaab. And I am already changing. You want to come home right now and talk to Parvati? You can! She will tell you I have changed. No more fights, no more beatings, no more.....well...honestly.....very little drinking." he smiled.

"Okay." I said, still a little thrown by how calm and reasonable he was being.

He looked at me smiled sadly, and then stared at the floor.

"I truly genuinely want to say sorry to you for that night. I was drunk. I was angry. I was emotional. I was under the influence of that darkness I said."

"Okay." In terms of psychology, I really tried to empathize with his confession, but I couldn't.

"You think I wanted to do all that? I mean, do you think the real normal Lallan, the happy loving guy wanted to do that? I didn't. I had to do that!"

This was too much. I angrily yelled,

"You had to bang me and beat me up????"

He seemed a little taken aback by my intensity for some reason. He stared at me for a second and then said,

"I know I have wronged you. Which is why I am here to apologize. I was just doing what I thought was necessary at that time to get my family back and keep my family together."

"Okay." I could see some logic in that, as twisted as it was.

Most of all, I was happy he was being quiet, rational, friendly, and non-violent. When he grabbed my gun, I feared the worst. Instead, he dismantled and put it away and was giving me a mea culpa. For the first time since that encounter started, I started feeling a little relieved.

"I am so sorry for all that I did. I want to tell you that. It's just this darkness inside me. Maybe you can treat me for it. It takes over. I can't control it."

"Yes, I know how hard that can be." My psychologist side took over. He was describing classic bipolar disorder syndrome.

"I am so sorry about it. It wasn't my intention to.....hurt you. I get no pleasure from it. My priority was my family, which means to me more than anything else."

"I understand." I nodded.

"So you see, it is all about keeping my family together and happy."

"Yes, I get it."

"So you forgive me?"

That was a tough question. Given whatever he had done, could I truly forgive him? But he was in my house, sitting by my feet, showing genuine contrition.

"Yes, fine, yes, I do. Happy?" I finally said.

"Thank you so much, memsaab." he said, actual tears in his eyes that he wiped away.

Lallan sat on the floor looking very sincere. I was feeling relieved that without the influence of alcohol, and with his family back together, he had come to his senses. I had not expected such an amicable end to our next encounter. But here we had it. Hopefully, we could move on, he could delete all the pics and videos on his phone and his friends' phones, and that would be the end of that.

Just as I was about to get up and show him out, he spoke again.

"There is.....one more thing I need your help with."

"What is that?"

"You know....the last time....I was drunk and in rage, but..." and he put a hand on my knee over my skirt, "it was still an amazing night."

"Lallan, please." I went red and gently moved his hand off my knee. "Let's not talk about that night again."

"But seriously...." he put his hand back, and this time gripped my knee firmly. "It was the best sex I have ever had. And I have banged a lot of women."

"Lallan...." I said, my voice rising a little. "Why are you..."

"Memsaab." he said, getting up on his knees like an eager lover, "You cannot expect me to believe you didn't enjoy it either. I was there, remember?"

"I did not enjoy it!" I said emphatically. Maybe a little too emphatically. He smiled. I tried again to move his hand away, but he did not let go.

"Your lips say one thing but I remember your body saying something else."

"Nonsense."

"The way you howled through those orgasms. The way you rode me. The way your crawled to the roof, horny. The way you locked your legs around my waist. The way your cunt..."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I yelled, tears flooding my eyes.

"The way your cunt muscles gripped my cock every time we fucked. Parvati never does that. None of my other bitches do that. It was special, memsaab!"

He put his second hand on my other knee and pushed my legs apart. I sat there in panic, dreading the bizarre turn this conversation was taking. Just when I thought he was apologetic and ready to move on. Classic bipolar behavior, a small part of my brain piped up.

"Your brain and your mouth and maybe even your heart say no. But that warm tight moist thing there." he motioned his eyes towards my crotch. "It was hungry. It was deprived. And it welcomed the satisfaction I provided. Be honest."

I started to get up and fight him off but he effortlessly pushed me back and my ass thumped back on the couch.

"Don't deny it, memsaab. I am sure your husband is a nice man. But obviously he doesn't satisfy your needs. Just like my wife is a great woman but she cannot satisfy my needs the way you did."

"YOU bangD ME, YOU ANIMAL!" I shouted in anger.

His response was to pout a little and nod.

"The first time that night, sure, I did bang you. I admit it. It was the anger and the darkness and the alcohol. You still came twice then, but yes, I did bang you." he said solemnly as if admitting to a minor infraction. "But the second time? The third, fourth, fifth, sixth times that night? That was just pure sex. After the first time, you had plenty of opportunities to run away. Or lock yourself in another room. Or even call the cops. But you didn't."

"Shut up!" I said. I did not want to admit that there was at least some truth to what he was saying.

"You were so....obedient. Be obedient again." he pushed my legs even farther apart, making my skirt slip a little.

"No!" I angrily replied.

"You are a head doctor. Diagnose yourself. Don't you think you liked what I do? And you want it again?"

"No!" I said shaking my head as my eyes teared up. "NO! NO!"

He was quiet for a few seconds and then said,

"Are you arguing with me or yourself?"

"Please leave, Lallan! Go back to your wife and leave me alone! I beg you!" I folded my hands.

"Because if I don't leave, you won't be able to resist my advances?"

He then swiftly lunged forward, so his face was inches away from mine. He tried to kiss me. I turned my face away. He grabbed my face with his right hand and pulled me into a kiss. Tobacco stench filled my nostrils. I didn't return his kiss. He broke the kiss after a minute or so, gently biting my lips before that. And then he leaned back.

I looked at the skinny intense man, staring at me from a couple of feet away, with an oddly earnest expression on his face. He was managing to sound reasonable even as he did some really nasty things to me. A far cry from the angry drunken lout of that other night.

"Do you know why I used to cheat on Parvati? Because she didn't satisfy me. So I slept around with a lot of women. Do you know why I slapped her around? The darkness inside me wanted that. But after you.....I don't need to. You might not believe it, but since that night, I have been like a saint with Parvati. Because you gave me an outlet for my darkness. That's how I want you to help me. Keep doing it, please. For my marriage. And for your own pleasure."

"Please go away, Lallan! Don't make me do this!" I was almost crying by now.

"Please be my mistress, memsaab. I am not asking for much. Maybe once a month?"

I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hands. And then his eyes flashed with anger.

"SHIKHA!" he yelled, that old menacing tone suddenly returning to his voice. And then he continued in a low seething voice. "Must I always hurt you before you see sense? You couldn't fight me when I was drunk. Now I am stone cold sober. Do you want to get slapped around again? Is that why you're resisting me?"

I started crying. He snickered and licked my tears from my cheeks.

"Give in, memsaab. For your own sake." he whispered as he kissed my lips.

"Lallan!" I said in protest.

"I am a good man deep down, I promise.I just have this darkness that needs a release. In the past, sometimes I took it out on Parvati. She is frail and simple and doesn't enjoy it. She tries to understand and accommodate, but it gets too much for her."

I remembered the times Parvati told me, it wasn't straightforward. That time I saw her bruised and she said it wasn't him beating her per se, but just something sexual.

"You though....you, memsaab, are a tall well-built energetic woman. And you like this. And your husband is abroad. You need me. I need you. This solves everything. Please, try to understand. Don't make the darkness take over."

His hands let go of mine and moved to my thighs. He started rolling my skirt up. I put my hands on my face and continued crying.

After that, things seemed to happen both in rapid motion and slow motion. My mind was crying out in protest for the next few minutes. His fingers first entered my panties. He played with my clit. Then he started pushing his fingers into my pussy. His other hand started unbuttoning my top. My tits were pulled out of my bra. His rained kisses and bites on my nipples and my stomach as his fingers started lubricating my cunt.

There was a sense of inevitability to the proceedings. I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The primal animal in me did want him. My nerve endings and synapses cried out for him.

Before I knew it, he was inside me. His mouth was on mine. We were kissing passionately. His hands mauled my boobs. I don't remember when he took off my top and bra. I don't remember when my panties ended up on the floor. All I know is, I was lying on the couch, with only my rolled up skirt as clothing, as he fucked me with deep and firm strokes. And my body was liking it.

Soon my ankles were locked around his waist. And I was exerting my thigh muscles pulling him in as deep as I could. To fill a void in me that I could no longer deny existed.

When he withdrew his dick after 10 minutes and sat down on the couch next to me, I automatically sat up. Straddled him. Returned his cock where it belonged - inside me. And was riding him. Ten minutes later, in a replay of a moment I had seen on video from the previous night, he put his arms under my knees and started getting up. I wrapped my arms around his neck tight. And then my nearly naked body dangled from this torso as he fucked me hard. Even though he was shorter and skinnier than me, he held me up suspended. The room was filled with sounds of our skins mating. My naked ass traced an arc in the air swaying back and forth. My first orgasm of the night washed over me as I hollered and bit his shoulder. He chuckled with self-satisfaction.

[elite1392]

Ten minutes later, he put me down on the floor. I got on my hands and knees. Our bodies were in perfect harmony. I arched my back and thrust my ass out like an animal in heat. He got on his knees behind me and continued where he had left off, pounding me hard.

Then, maybe as a throwback to his rough approach last time, he placed his right foot on my head and pushed it to the floor. He hammered me like that for ten minutes bringing me to another orgasm before withdrawing. I looked back at him. He nodded and sat on the couch.

I crawled towards him. Sat on the floor with my ass on my heels. Opened my mouth. And hungrily gulped down the jizz he deposited. I swallowed it all, and went to the bathroom to pee and clean myself up.

When I came back to the living room, he demanded food. I stood in the kitchen, naked except for an apron as I cooked eggs. He sat on a chair by the dining table, naked, his dick resting in preparation for the next assault. He had helped himself to a big drink of Jack Daniels from the bar cabinet.

"I thought you gave up alcohol?" I said as I cooked.

"Not...not fully given up. Just controlling. So it doesn't....hurt......." his voice trailed off as he looked confused.

"Parvati?" I helpfully added.

"Yes, of course, Parvati."

Half an hour later. We had both finished the food. The 1 liter whiskey bottle was empty. He had finished three fourths of it. And forced me to chug the remaining quarter, neat, as I sat naked in his lap, except for the apron.

We hadn't spoken a word this whole time. I was staring at my plate, trying to come to terms with the ramifications of what was happening. The bizarre depraved agreement I had implicitly made. Why had I agreed to it? Did I even have a choice? Why did my cunt feel so warm and happy?

There was a metallic clang as I pondered these questions sitting on his lap. He had pushed his plate away and it had fallen on the ground. I looked at his face. There was rage and depravity in his eyes. Drunk Lallan re-surfaced. Eyes red. And irrational anger on his face.

He got up, staggering a little as he pushed me to the floor.

"You filthy slut!"

I was on all fours, my naked butt sticking in the air, and the apron hanging loose from my torso. I tried to stand up but he put his foot on my shoulder and pushed me down.

"You are my kutiyaa (bitch), I am your maalik. (master)" he laughed and spanked me hard.

I winced as he pulled me to my feet by my hair. He spat on my face. I struggled to stay on my feet as he dragged me to the bedroom pulling my hair.

What followed next was expected, now that he had alcohol in his system again.

"WHORE!" he yelled and slapped me. Tears sprang to my eyes. "Stand there!"

I stood in the corner. He untied my apron, rolled it up, and tried to shove it down my throat before throwing it to the ground.

"Raise your hands!"

I complied, standing there naked and sobbing, but also weirdly aroused. He went to the closet and got one of my husband's belts. He fastened it around my neck like a dog's leash. First came the slaps on my boobs until they were red. Then really hard bites on my nipple. Then three fingers were thrust up my cunt.

"Just as I thought. Wetter than a filthy kutiyaa's cunt!" he spat at me again. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes..." I whispered honestly.

Another slap.

"Speak up, bitch!"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes...........maalik." Master.

With three fingers still roughly shoved up my cunt, he grabbed my hair, pulled it, and brought his face close to mine.

"And who are you?"

"I am your filthy kutiyaa, maalik." Bitch.

"That's right!"

I was then ordered to turn around, bend over and put my hands on the wall. Then came the angry spanks on my ass. I counted. 64 on each cheek.

Then I was laid on the bed on my side, my legs folded up. Half a bottle of moisturizer was emptied on my ass. The anal assault began. I hated myself when I had three orgasms in the next fifteen minutes as he sodomized me while playing with my clit. Then it was my cunt's turn as I was made to ride him. And then fucked in the ass again doggy style until he deposited his seed inside it.

When I came back from the bathroom after a long time cleaning myself, he had opened a bottle of vodka. He pulled me on to his lap and shoved the bottle in my hand. We finished it in ten minutes.

The rest of the night was a blur again as my blood alcohol level crossed my tolerance. A dream and a nightmare. We fucked at least 3 more times that I can recall. I was slapped and spanked and spat on. The belt around my neck was tightened a few times almost to the point of choking me unconscious. And the orgasms I had probably numbered in the dozens. The more roughly he treated me, the harder I came. I hated it, but that's how it was.

I woke up to the sound of chirping birds. I opened my eyes. The sunlight stung. It took me a few moments again to realize where I was. Curled up naked on the roof of my own house, with an empty jute sack on top of me. There was a bowl of water next to me this time, like for an actual bitch. The other end of my belt leash was tied around a water pipe. I had no memory of how I ended up there. The last thing I remembered was being humped in front of the bathroom mirror at around 4 AM while he pulled on the belt.

I sat up. Untied the belt. The sun was high enough for it to be close to noon. Thankfully, Lallan had shown the mercy of putting me in a corner of the roof that couldn't be seen from the other houses around us. At least not directly. The tall buildings were a different matter. I stared at the balconies again and tried to make out if I could see any obvious viewers. I couldn't.

Once my eyes got used to the sunlight, I picked up the sack and held it in front of me to cover my nakedness. Peeked around the wall. Luckily the other roofs were still empty. I scampered through the door and started walking down the stairs. My ass hurt, my thighs hurt. My face hurt. My boobs hurt. But my cunt felt.....satisfied.

I walked downstairs gingerly in case he was still around. The house was empty.

There was a note on the kitchen table scrawled in Hindi.

"Next month."

--PART 2 ENDS--

[elite1392]

(PART-3)

I sat in Nita's office for another session, waiting for her to finish a team meeting. The regular sessions had helped at first, just by giving me an outlet to talk about what was happening. But lately, our chats with each other had gotten contentious. Nita seemed to be losing patience, maybe because she personally cared about me, and was disappointed that I wasn't following her advice.

I sat staring at the posters on the wall, which were the same as the ones that used to be in my office. Posters about self-respect, dignity, not taking abuse, relying on the machinery in place to help, pitfalls of enabling abusive behavior, etc. I once used them extensively when counseling women. Now I still could not get used to being on the other side of the table. Finally she walked in and saw me. Sighing, she closed the door behind her and took her seat, giving me a questioning look. I couldn't look her in the eye.

"You were with him again?"

I nodded. She took a pad and started making notes.

"It was supposed to be just once a month. Then it became once a week. And now multiple times a week?" she asked.

"Well, he says he is allowing me to go to the US and after that we won't meet for months at end, so he wants to make this time count."

"Allowing you to go? Oh lord, do you hear yourself talk? You now think you are beholden to him about how to live your life?" she sarcastically said.

"No. Of course not." I protested. "He does have it in his power to disrupt my life. Even more. He isn't doing that. He has been understanding about the situation. In general he has become more understanding."

"Understanding!" she scoffed. "I can see that at least there are no bruises on your face this time. So I assume he was gentle."

"He is never gentle." I said wanly. "He just left my face alone this time, that's all."

"So what did he do?"

"I'd rather not go into the details."

"Come on Shikha...you know how this works. You have to be honest and talk out loud about it or you won't be able to come to terms with it. Don't bottle it up." she said impatiently.

"Maybe in a little while? Please?" I said.

She tapped her pen on the pad for a few seconds staring at me.

"Shikha, look at me."

I did. The expression on her face was one of sadness and anger.

"Let's go to the security officer."

"This again!" I got angry. "You know very well why I cannot go to the security officer!"

"The pictures and videos?"

"Yes!!"

"How long are you going to keep fooling yourself with that excuse? This is textbook denial and hedging. There are ways to limit the damage from that. Besides, all the security officermen know you and respect you. They will work extra hard..."

"I have heard all this before." I snapped at her. "You don't get it. It's not that straightforward, Nita, it is..."

And I suddenly stopped mid-sentence. I had used the exact same words Parvati had used the first time we met and I was convincing her to go to the security officer. I bit my lips to fight back tears.

"Every woman in an abusive relationship thinks her case is special, and there is some reason or the other to keep taking the abuse."

"What do you mean relationship?" I angrily said. "It is not a damn relationship, Nita! The man bangd me and is now blackmailing me!"

"Shikha, stop being so blind. Of course it's a relationship, whether you like the idea or not."

"Nonsense!"

"How long has it been since that first night?"

"Four months."

"And since then, how many times have you and he spent time together like that?"

I stopped and counted.

"Ten times."

"And each time, approximately how many times do the two of you have sex?"

"Four or five times."

"How long has it been since Anup came back to help with wrapping up things for the move to California?"

"Two weeks."

"And how often have you and your husband had sex in the two weeks?"

I stayed silent and glared at her. She knew it was an unfair question. It's not like I did not want to do it. I just could not willy-nilly have sex with Anup with all the tell-tale bruises on my body. It had to only be at night, in the darkness. Fortunately, Anup had always favored turning the lights off before sex at night. Besides, he was busy with work in addition to all the moving chores, so most nights, he had come home late and tired.

"Face it, Shikha. You and Lallan have an abusive relationship. By not going to the security officer, and by not telling your husband or anyone else except me, you are tacitly agreeing to be his mistress. It might have started off as just a forcible encounter and blackmailing. But now that Anup is in Delhi, you and Lallan are still spending time together behind his back. That is infidelity. That is a relationship."

I knew on some level that she was right. But I was not yet ready to accept it.

"This time he did not drink because of his daughter's birthday party. He gets the most violent and cruel when he is drunk. So this time, although there was a lot of the usual...you know, spanking, biting, and so on, it wasn't like brutally bad."

"Do you hear yourself? Again, textbook battered woman in denial. You are seeking relief in small mercies."

I sighed and shook my head. Everything she was saying is what I would have said if I were in her position. And yet, I could not accept it.

"I was going to ask you about the party. I heard from Salma that you were there."

Salma was the new case worker hired in my place and assigned to the Parvati case. Since Parvati had recanted her complaints and got back with her husband, her job was to keep tabs on their family life, make sure things were indeed normal like Parvati claimed. So she had been invited to the birthday party in their slum. She and I exchanged a few pleasantries, but mostly, we stayed away from each other. I could sense there was curiosity and suspicion in her gaze.

"Did she...does she...I mean..."

"Does she suspect there is something going on between you and that family going beyond just being a friendly ex-case-worker?"

"Yeah."

"She didn't explicitly say it to me." Nita said. "But she was a little surprised that you were there at the party. How did you end up there, by the way?"

"Lallan insisted." I shrugged. "He said he wanted me to see first hand the results of my "help" in dealing with his darkness. And how it had improved his family life."

"Wasn't Parvati surprised to see you there?"

"She was. Also, she was happy to see me. That led to an...odd encounter too."

"Tell me about it". Nita sat back as I narrated

-----

The party was being held in an open area in the corner of the slums. There were a bunch of kids, some neighbors and family friends and also relatives of the couple. There was a table with simple snacks like potato chips, samosas, chocolates, tea, soft drinks. A few balloons, as much as the family could afford. And a few simple gifts the other kids had brought.

The men and women were sitting and socializing separately. I had a short awkward conversation with Salma, who was clearly feeling as out of place as I was. After that, she put her bluetooth on and moved to a side, talking with someone.

I had no idea who else to talk to. The other women were nice and respectful, like slum women would be to a memsaab, asking frequently if I wanted more food or drinks. Lallan was circulating among the men, some of whom kept stealing glances at me. A couple of them would snicker or wink when they looked at me. I assumed these were his close friends who knew who I was to Lallan. I suddenly realized they might even have the pictures and videos on their phones, and it made me blush.

"Thank you for coming, Shikha memsaab." Parvati appeared by my side.

"It's a pleasure to be here, Parvati. So...things are going well with Lallan?"

"Yes. Going...going well." she said half-heartedly. I instinctively raised my eyebrows and she looked away pursing her lips.

"That's good to hear." I said, not wanting to really pull at that thread. But Parvati wanted to, apparently.

"Memsaab...I never got to apologize to you. So let me say, I am very sorry. You went through all that trouble to help me out, get us put up in Jaipur, get that job, and so on. But when Lallan showed up..." she stopped. "After I called him of course. It just seemed...you know...family is family after all. These are his daughters. And he is really good with them like I said. And he is working full time. He raised extra money to throw this party that we could never have afforded until he started working. I am sorry if I disappointed you."

"No need to apologize, Parvati. It's your life. As long as you are happy and your daughters are happy, that's all that matters." saying to myself in my mind, you have no idea of the price I am paying for your happiness.

"Can I...talk to you...here by the side?" she said in a low voice.

I was reluctant to talk more than we needed to, but I went with her.

"Memsaab...can't you be my case worker again? Salma memsaab is nice, but somehow...I felt more comfortable with you."

"I don't work there anymore, Parvati. I quit. I am going to America."

"I know. I know. But maybe just temporarily."

"Sorry, that't not how it works."

"It's just that...well...things are much better with Lallan. No more beatings or drunken fights. But still...something is off."

"What do you mean?"

"I think...I think he is cheating on me with someone." she said and looked right into my eyes.

For a second, I was taken aback and terrified that she was accusing me. That she knew. She had found out.

"Oh..with...with whom?" I asked.

"I don't know. I mean...he has never been faithful anyway. He went to whores even before. And now, with his job taking him on long trips, I can understand if he does. I don't care about whores. All these men do that." she said pointed towards the men, where Lallan was standing watching us talk.

"Then?"

"Something seems different. Like...he is with someone in particular. Someone who is giving him things that...he used to get from me." she said bitterly.

"Well, you should talk to Salma about it."

"It's not the same rapport as with you." she pleaded. "I can't be as open. For example...I feel embarrassed saying this...there were certain things he did to me..in bed...that I initially didn't like, but then, got used to."

"Oh." With a pit in my stomach, I said.

"You won't understand. It's like some rough stuff. Not that I want him to be extra violent or abusive. But within limits...oh god I feel so embarrassed." she blushed.

I didn't say anything. What could I say, even though I knew exactly what she was saying.

"Nowadays he is nice and gentle. But...too gentle. And just his general behavior. The way he just disappears for hours sometimes even when he is in the city. It all just seems...suspicious."

That's when Lallan came walking towards us, so Parvati stopped talking and smiled.

"Memsaab, thank you for coming." he said in an exceedingly polite way that seemed very out of place from our normal interactions.

"Happy to be here." I said.

"You told me to remind you when it was 7 o' clock? You said you had some other function to attend?" he said.

"Oh right. Yes. Thank you." I caught the hint. "I should get going."

"I will drop you to a taxi." he said.

"Thanks for having me, Parvati." I said. And then walked away with Lallan, as Salma waved goodbye while still on the phone.

------

I took a deep breath and sat back as Nita looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"So...how does that interaction with Parvati make you feel? Now that you have found out that your supposed self-sacrifice is also encroaching on their sex life?"

"Horrible, but what can I do about it?"

"A lot! Again, you were the one telling options in situations like these. Now you are basically the mistress of one of your case's husbands!"

"I am not his mistress!" I yelled. "I am his victim!"

"I don't need to tell you what a thin line separates those two!" Nita yelled back. "Accept it. You are his mistress. He is your lover."

"No."

"You are married to your husband. He is married to his wife. Like she has guessed, this is not some random whoring around that she could condone. She senses intuitively, there is another woman. Imagine how devastated she will be when she finds out YOU are that other woman."

"She won't find out."

"Still, you just stood there and listened quietly while she told you her husband is cheating on her, while you are the one enabling that cheating."

"I am not enabling it. I am helping contain it."

"And what about Anup? Are you being fair to him? You clearly have some sort of an abusive co-dependent and sexual connection with that Lallan fellow. How can you continue the charade of having a happy married life? At least leave Anup and spare him the humiliation and disrespect."

"I love Anup!" I got up and yelled. "He is my life! He is the love of my life! I am not disrespecting him. I am making the best of a bad situation. A situation that will get easier in a couple of months."

"Sit down." Nita sternly said.

"No! Your job is to help me cope with what is happening. You are making me feel even more worthless and guilty than I already do every minute of the day."

"Why do you feel worthless and guilty if you aren't doing anything wrong?"

"I didn't say I am not doing anything wrong. I am. But I don't have a choice."

Nita sat back and sighed.

"Let's get back to this later. For now, sit down and tell me what happened next. He took you away from the party, supposedly to drop you to a taxi?"

I breathed heavily for a while glaring at her, tempted to walk out. But then I sat down.

"He led me through the narrow bylanes of the slums, as you said, supposedly to drop me to a taxi. There were people milling around, so he didn't say anything to me. But then he took a couple of turns that were going away from the main road, and I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the night wasn't over. We finally reached a relatively empty part of the slums and then he suddenly stopped in front of a hunt and pushed me inside."

"Did you resist him in any way or at least show your reluctance?"

"No. What would have been the point?" I shrugged. "The hut was empty and musty and covered in cobwebs. He closed the door and said, this will have to be quick. As he unzipped his pants and pushed me to my knees, I asked him, didn't he want to know what Parvati and I were talking about. He shrugged and said, he didn't care, and that I should suck his dick instead of talking. Holding his dick in my hand, I looked up at him and said, she suspects you of having an affair. And she misses the rough stuff. He looked a little surprised and then started laughing. Said it was hilarious that his wife was sharing her suspicions with me of all people, who was a worthless slut aching for being slapped around and buggered."

"A boorish way to put it, but an accurate one." Nita interjected. I ignored her and continued.

"He then slapped me, not very hard, and said, you like this don't you? I glared at him. He asked me to stop talking nonsense, take my clothes off, and start sucking his dick, because he needed to get back to the party. As I stripped, he got on his knees. Which meant that once I got naked, I had to be on all fours in front of him and suck his dick. He took his belt and whipped my ass with it for a couple of minutes as I sucked him to a hard erection. He also reached under my torso and squeezed and pinched my boobs a few times. As he did that, he said a couple of times how he was being a lot more gentle, because my husband was around, and he didn't want to leave too many scars for him to see. So as I said earlier, he wasn't exactly gentle, but a lot less violent than other times."

"Which was a good thing, you think?" Nita asked.

"Of course." I said.

"Are you sure?"

"What are you implying?"

"I am just asking if you truly liked the fact that he was less violent than usual." Nita said. "As we have talked in the past few months, I get the feeling you somehow...like the violence. Maybe sexually. It's not unheard of. A lot of people derive pleasure from intense pain in sado-masochist sex. But i think it's beyond just the sex for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you also like getting beaten up because you sub-consciously think of it as a well-deserved punishment for what you are doing. Having an adulterous relationship that you have started to derive pleasure from. Maybe gotten addicted to. The hard blows, the bruises, the intense pain...it helps you alleviate your guilt and your self-loathing. Because even though Parvati and Anup don't know, at least somehow you are getting punished."

I looked at Nita quietly, unsure of how to respond. This analysis did seem to make sense. But for me to accept that I actually wanted that abuse was even more demeaning than wanting it.

"Anyway, continue. I am guessing he penetrated you soon, and there was more abuse involved."

"Yes. He mounted me, fucked me hard, spanking my ass, pulling my hair, putting his fingers in the sides of my mouth and pulling. The usual stuff really."

"And you did not cum this time, did you?"

I was surprised at the question. It was almost prescient.

"No, I didn't!" I said. "I thought it was because it was all so hurried and rushed. But now...I don't know..."

"Maybe this time you did not cum because he didn't beat you up or slap you around as he usually does?"

I put my face in my hands.

"Have you been having orgasms the few times that you have had sex with Anup since he returned?"

"Well...when he goes down on me and uses his tongue, yes. But during sex, no."

"Has he noticed the difference?"

"No, because...I never had vaginal orgasms with him anyway. Or anyone else but Lallan."

"And you said Lallan isn't particularly big down there?"

"No."

"Hmmm."

We were both quiet as the analytical parts of our brains computed all this together. It's not something that had never occurred to me. I had just pushed it away when I thought about it. But here it was, all laid bare in a psychologist's office.

"So...continue."

"There isn't much more. He humped me like that, from behind, with moderate abuse, for about ten minutes. Then he made me turn around again and fucked my mouth, and ejaculated inside."

"You swallowed, of course?"

"Yes. He insists on it." I said. "Well, then we got dressed. I took a taxi home and he went back to the party."

"Hmmm...I would love to talk more about this but I have a meeting with one of the trustees." Nita said. "But think about everything I have said, Shikha. It is time you start accepting certain truths about who you have become and what kind of a situation you are in."

-------

I got up to leave. Nita also got up and gave me a tender hug.

"I will think about what you have said. I don't agree with a lot of it, but I know you mean well and I value your expertise." I said.

"Yes. And maybe try broaching this subject with Lallan too. When are you meeting him next? In a few days I am sure."

"No...it will be a couple of weeks. He is going on a long haul trip to the South. He said that's one reason he wanted yet another go after the party. For the road." I said.

"Oh! Well that's good news!" Nita genuinely smiled. "Maybe those two weeks away will give you the time and distance you need to face facts. And make you come terms with your abusive relationship with him, now that he isn't banging his agenda into you every few days."

I nodded.

"And please, try to reconnect with Anup. You say you love him. I believe you. Spend as much time with him as you can. Make love often. Try to rekindle whatever it was you two had in the early days."

"Yes, Nita." And I left.

Nita was right, although somehow I could not admit it to her or even myself that day. But as I thought more and more about it, the clearer it became. Things between Lallan and me had indeed gone beyond just the blackmail and non-consent stage. I was now effectively in a full-fledged relationship with him. He was like my secret second husband and I was like his secret second wife. It was an abusive relationship, but one I was hooked to. Just like the dozens of women I had counseled over the years.

[elite1392]

This point was really driven home to me, not in a couple of days but a couple of weeks that I got away from Lallan.

Almost two weeks later, I was standing in the driveway of the Hyatt in Ahmedabad, clutching my small travel bag and purse, and looking towards the road. I was nervous and my heart was pounding. A loud internal voice kept berating me for being there, but I kept trying to ignore it.

"You sure you don't want me to call you a taxi, madam?" the doorman wandered over and asked again.

"Yes I am sure. I am just waiting for someone like I said." I was dressed in a black formal skirt suit with a blue blouse underneath, looking very much like any business traveler at the Hyatt.

I had downed a couple of stiff whiskeys at the hotel bar before stepping out at the designated time. I was feeling just a mild buzz, but it had been necessary to calm my nerves. Even after all that I had done with Lallan over the last few months, tonight was risk-taking at a whole different level.

"Are you staying here, madam or just here for the conference?" he asked again. It was close to midnight, and there weren't too many people around, so I guess he was just making polite chit-chat.

"Conference." I said.

"Which one? The Medical one or the Banking one?" he asked.

"Medical." I said, wishing he would go away.

"So you are a doctor, huh?" he asked and I nodded. "I hope my daughter grows up to become a doctor. She is does very well at college."

"That's nice."

"In fact she says..." he started talking when there was a loud whistle from the road at the end of the driveway.

We both looked in that direction, and I saw Lallan standing there waving at me. He had the top two buttons of his shirt open and was sporting a thick beard. The doorman looked at him and then at me as I pulled the purse over my shoulder and started walking.

"That's my driver." I nonchalantly said, in case the doorman was wondering why a high class woman in a formal skirt suit was walking towards a visibly lower class man.

"Oh ok." he nodded, but he had a look of suspicion on his face. Lallan looked too scruffy to be a driver for someone like me.

I sprinted a little down the driveway and towards Lallan. I held out my bag towards him and he just stared at it.

"What am I, your coolie, you cunt?" he said in a low voice.

"The doorman is watching. I told him you're my driver." I whispered.

He looked at the doorman and then reluctantly took the bag. Then he turned around and started walking. I followed him.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The truck is parked just down the road." he said. "I didn't know if they would let a truck pull into the front entrance of your precious five star hotel."

"Truck???" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, truck, you stupid bitch. Have you forgotten what I work as?" he growled.

"But on the phone you said..."

"I know what I said. Change of plans." he said, handed the bag back to me, and started walking faster.

With the heels, it took some effort to keep up. But I managed.

"So your thing is done...what did you say...conference? What is that?" he asked.

"It's just an event where people in the same line of work meet and discuss ideas."

"Hmmm...sounds like a rich people thing. Is that why you are dressed like an English memsaab?" he said, eyeing my clothes.

"Yes."

"I have riped a lot of clothes off your body, but never this. It will be a nice change." he said and started laughing.

Finally we turned around the corner and sure enough, there was a truck waiting there. It was one of those old trucks, with an orange chassis and rickety back carriage covered in tarp. I saw a middle aged man sitting behind the wheel, who nodded at Lallan, and then looked intently at me.

"Lallan!" I said in a worried voice ad he jumped up to the passenger side and opened the door.

"Climb in." he said, giving me his hand.

"But...I...you said we would be in a lodge..."

"Like I said, change of plans. I want you to meet my friends. Climb in." he said again.

"Lallan...I'm not sure I want to do this." I said with some urgency in my voice.

Lallan nodded and climbed down. My heart started beating a little faster. He had that stern look on his face.

"Memsaab." he said with fake syrupy sweetness. "Are you saying you are worried getting into a truck in the middle of the night in Ahmedabad?"

I didn't say anything, because I knew it wasn't a genuine question.

"Would you like to just go back to the hotel and spend the night there alone? Please, by all means, do that."

I looked down at my feet, knowing better than to argue or talk back.

"Of course, we made this detour to Ahmedabad for you. So if you chicken out now, I am going to have to take this nice expensive suit of yours as compensation. You can walk back to the hotel, naked, in the middle of the night."

I sighed, knowing as I always had, that resistance was futile. And his threat wasn't empty. I took my heels off, hung them against my purse, and climbed on the ramp holding his hand.

Lallan grabbed my ass over my skirt as he pushed me into the truck cabin. He muttered he'd missed that.

That dimly lit cabin was like a whole different world of its own. I realized that although I had seen millions of such trucks throughout my life, I had never peeked inside one of them, much less sit in one.

"This is Munaf Bhai. He owns and drives the truck, so he is my boss I guess." Lallan pushed me on a barely cushioned seat and said.

I just nodded at the middle aged chubby man staring at me intently. He nodded back. And then he said,

"You look nice with clothes on too."

Laughter filled the small cabin. I instantly went deep red and looked away. He had said it in such a flat matter-of-fact way, like he was complimenting my shoes or something. The comment implied that he was one of the guys Lallan had shared the pictures and maybe even the videos with. Lallan was laughing hard, slapping my knee in amusement instead of his own. Munaf was chuckling. And I heard laughter coming from behind me too.

So I looked back. There was a young burly man of about 20, sitting on a bench behind us, laughing it up. In the dim light, I could not make out his face very clearly.

"This is Tony. The other driver." Lallan said. Tony kept laughing and then he squirmed a little.

I heard a soft cough, but it wasn't from either of the three men.

"Oh...and that down there is Kanta."

I leaned over the back of the seat and was shocked to see a stocky young woman, buck naked, squatting on the floor and sucking Tony's dick. With the dick still in her mouth, she turned her wide-open eyes towards me. We stared into each others eyes for a few seconds, two women, strangers to each other, finding ourselves in this dingy truck cabin.

I looked away as the truck started moving. The men finally stopped laughing, although there was still the occasional chuckle. I felt Lallan's hands on my chest and he squeezed my boobs.

"We were just wondering who has bigger tits, you or Kanta. From the pictures, it seems like you. But Tony insists it's her." he said casually.

"Lallan." I whispered. "Kanta...is she...who is...I mean is she here..."

"What?" he asked, stroking my ass over my skirt with his other hand.

"Is she here of her own will?" I asked. The counselor psychologist in me was wondering if this woman had been forced or kidnapped or something. She did seem to be sucking the dick intently, but the look in her eyes wasn't exactly one of joy.

"As much as you are here of your own will." Lallan said and snickered.

I stared at him trying to figure out what exactly that meant. I knew how I had ended up here. What was her story? Suddenly, the lights were turned off and the cabin went dark. Only the street light filtered in.

"Lallan...there are usually cops on this road." Munaf said in a tense voice.

"Oh right!" Lallan said.

And I suddenly felt his hand on my head and my body was pushed away from him and low, until it was leaving against Munaf's side.

"You understand, memsaab." Lallan said. "If cops see a woman in a truck like this, obviously they are going to stop us and ask why. So you need to stay down. That's why we have Kanta in the back and down on the floor."

Munaf's shirt reeked of body odor. I tried to breathe through my mouth.

"Don't worry, we will be stopping soon, memsaab. Until then, remember, this is Munaf bhai's truck. He is our host. While you're down there, why don't you follow Kanta's lead and thank him for his hospitality and the very nice compliment he paid you."

I saw Munaf take one hand off the wheel and unzip his pants. An erect thick dick poked out. It was clear what was expected of me but I still looked back at Lallan with a pleading expression. He just smiled and then his hand started pulling my skirt up. Tony leaned forward as my upper thighs and panties were revealed.

"Oh man...look at that ass!"

Lallan raised his left hand high and landed a stinging hard spank on my butt over my panties. I squealed.

"Suck his dick, memsaab."

I winced and looked at the erect dick in front of me and slid a bit forward. There was no point in arguing or fighting back. This was the situation I found myself in. All alone, in a truck with three horny working class men and a naked woman. I was a long way away from home, from my husband, my social circle. And the night did not look like it was going to get any less humiliating.

Opening my mouth wide, I reminded myself, that this one was not entirely or even partly on Lallan. Me finding myself here in this situation, was all my fault. And I thought about all the impulsive stupid decisions and lies that had ended up with me sideways on a truck seat, about to give a blowjob to a stranger.

--

I had done my best to follow Nita's advice to take the two weeks without Lallan as an opportunity to think things through and also reconnect with Anup. It worked, as much as it could.

Anup is a loving, caring, and insightful man who knows me better than anyone else. From the moment he had landed and come home, he could sense something was off. He didn't know what exactly it was. But he could sense something was wrong. He had asked me, first subtly and then directly, what was going on. I had tried my best to wave off his concerns, saying it was nothing. or that I was just nervous about leaving my old life behind and starting a new one in a new country. or that I was intimidated about the quality of fellow students and professors at Stanford. He would nod, but I could see he was not entirely convinced.

Thankfully, his work kept him super busy. Returning for a short stint meant a lot of meetings and presentations with the offshore team in the office. So it wasn't like he was home all day. We went out for dinners, drinks, met our friends and family, and had sex with increasing regularity. Lallan had been mercifully less intense with his beatings and plus Anup usually liked turning the lights off during sex. So there were no visual clues for him about what I had been through.

The Lallan-less days ticked on, one by one. It almost seemed like a return to our old life. With one change. We were now having sex every night, often two or three times a night. It felt very comforting and reassuring, but there was still a lot of chaos and self-doubt in my mind.

One evening, I was at home, watching some brainless Hindi comedy movie, when Anup walked in.

"Hi honey, I'm home." he said.

"Oh hey!" I got up and smiled at my loving perfect husband. "Would you like me to join me for some whiskey-soda?"

He saw the glass in my hand, gave me half a smile and nodded. He took his shoes off, put his bag in the bedroom and joined me on the couch. I handed him his glass. He looked at the bottle that was on the table and close to half empty.

"Thanks." he said.

I leaned in and kissed him passionately. He kissed me back. We made out for a few seconds and then I sat back.

"How was your day at work?" I asked.

"Not bad. Not bad." he said casually. "Looks like you started early today."

He pointed towards the bottle.

"Oh just a couple of hours ago." I shrugged and smiled. "To get nice and liquored for my hunk."

We kissed again. I unbuttoned his shirt partly and rubbed his chest. He put his arm around me.

"That bottle was full when I left." he said.

I froze and then sat up. And stare at him.

"What are you saying, Anup?"

"Nothing." he got defensive. Then he frowned. "Okay...don't get upset Shikha...but you have been drinking a lot these past few weeks."

"Since when do you have a problem with your wife drinking? Are you like one of those men who..." I said, miffed.

"Oh come on!" he interrupted me. "You know I don't mean it like that."

"Then how do you mean it?"

"Honey, you know I like my drink and I like sharing drinks with you. We have explored so many different brands and liquors together over the years." he said.

"So what's your problem?" I said angrily. Even then, the rational analyst part of me was saying, you know he has a point, and you are being extra defensive.

"You're drunk almost every night when I get home, Shikha!" he said, raising his voice a little. "Not just one or two drinks. you are at least 4-5 drinks down. Every night. When we go out with friends, you down your drinks so fast, no one else can keep up. You're slurring every night. That's not you!"

"Well, I'm not the one who puked all over the Bedis' couch and then passed out in front of everyone!" I said, and immediately felt bad for bringing it up.

I could see he was annoyed.

"Shikha, that was five years ago. I got carried away. Drank too much. Puked, made a fool of myself. I am still ashamed of it. And since then, I have never come close to repeating anything like that." he said.

"I know. I'm sorry." I said.

"Sorry if I'm out of line, Shikha. But...this is unusual. Remember we used to talk about how all that huge collection can't be finished by the time we leave. I come back and find most of the bottles I collected are gone. And you have bought a bunch of new ones. It's like you have been downing an entire bottle a day. You're drunk every night."

"Not too drunk for you to fuck every night!" I said, again regretting it as soon as I said it.

He looked really hurt and confused at that statement. And just looked away. I could see his eyes get a little moist. I felt horrible. Maybe he needed a little reassurance.

"Okay fine. Maybe I have been over-indulging a bit. A lot. More than ever before. But come on, Anup, I am on my first ever break in years. I quit my job. I am moving to a new country. I am..."

"Yes, you are nervous about the PhD, the life there...I have heard all that before."

"Don't fucking cut me off and condescend to me!" I snapped.

He was taken aback. I was not one to display flashes of temper.

"Sorry." he said, sulking, and sat back.

I also sat back, wondering what to say next. In all honesty, I knew he was right. I was drinking too much. I was not myself. He knew me better than anyone. He could tell. I could be honest with him. He would be angry, but would understand. Maybe he would help me deal with everything.

Call it fate's cruel sense of humor, but that was the exact moment my phone started ringing. I recognized the number, although I had never saved it. It was my second husband. Calling just as I was in the middle of a raw argument with my first husband. Lallan had not called since that night of his daughter's birthday party. He had left for his long haul trip the very next day. This was the first time since then that he was calling.

"Sorry sweetie, I have to take this. Work stuff." I said, getting up.

"Ok." he nodded, looking at the TV, still sulking.

I walked to the bedroom, closed the door and locked it. And then answered the phone.

"What took you so long, cunt?" Lallan's voice boomed through.

"Sorry, I was busy." I said.

"Getting fucked, no doubt."

"No." I said.

"If I was there right now, I would be fucking you hard hard hard, you slut. But I am here in Baroda instead." he sounded a little drunk.

"Oh ok."

"Whores don't have your body or your stamina, you know, memsaab?" I always found it weird how he kept alternating between cunt, slut, and memsaab. Maybe the mentions of memsaab were necessary to fed his ego and remind him that he had a high class wife as his bitch.

"I see."

"Does your husband make you wail during orgasms the way I do?"

I usually just ignored his questions about my husband. And he usually didn't push me too much. But this time, I surprised myself by answering,

"No, he doesn't."

"I knew it! No one can satisfy you like I can!"

I cringed and felt like crying. It was true. I was not his victim. I was his mistress.

"I wish I wasn't here in Baroda tonight. I really want you tonight. I can't wait to be back. I will be back in 4 days. And then bang you like the bitch you are, memsaab. How is Delhi?"

This is when I made that impulsive and stupid mistake. I say it was a mistake. And I can justify it saying I was drunk and angry at my husband. But I knew there was something deeper at play. Even after having sex with Anup every night since Lallan left, and liking that sex as it happened, I said what I said next. A complete lie.

"I am...not in Delhi." I said.

And then I rushed to my computer in the bedroom and opened up a travel booking site.

"Where are you then?"

I typed a couple of things. It took a few seconds to get the results.

"Hey cunt, I asked you something!"

"Sorry...I am in Ahmedabad." I said. "For a work conference."

There was silence on the line for a few seconds.

"Ahmedabad?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes." I said.

"Is your husband with you?"

"No." I said, hating myself for this elaborate and needy stunt.

He was silent for a while and I could hear some muffled conversations in the background. Finally he spoke,

"Listen, cunt. I am just a couple of hours away. We were going to drive to Indore next, but if you're in Ahmedabad, I need to come there." he said.

"But Lallan...I am not sure if..." I had become such an accomplished liar that I knew that I needed to put up at least a pretense of reluctance.

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Don't forget who you're talking to."

"Sorry."

"Where is this conference thing in Ahmedabad?"

"Oh...umm...the Hyatt." I had no idea if there even was a Hyatt in Ahmedabad. But it seemed like a safe enough bet.

"Okay. One second."

There were a few muffled conversations again. And then he was back on the line.

"So...here's what is going to happen. I will be coming to Ahmedabad. I will take you to a lodge or something and we will spend the night together. And make up for these past two weeks. Be outside the Hyatt at 1130."

"Lallan please...what you are asking is so..."

"Cunt, don't you know by now what I can do to you? Just because I have been nice to you recently, you think you can raise your voice to me?"

"Okay...okay...sorry." I said.

"1130. Outside the Hyatt. Got it?"

"Yes."

He hung up.

As the conversation had been happening, I had been booking an air ticket online simultaneously. Done with that, I tok a deep breath, felt another bout of guilt and self-loathing, and walked out.

Anup was sitting on the couch watching TV. He looked at me.

"Sorry Anup...I have to fly to Ahmedabad immediately."

"What? Why?" he was surprised.

"It's about one of the cases I was counseling last year. It has a crucial court hearing early tomorrow in Ahmedabad." I said, hoping I sounded believable.

"What's wrong? Why do you have to go?" he got up, sounding worried.

"Honey, you know I can't discuss my cases with you. Confidentiality clauses." I said, walking back into the bedroom and pulling out a travel bag.

He followed me, saying,

[elite1392]

"I know. I know." and was silent for a few seconds. "Listen...I am sorry about earlier."

"No, it's fine." I said, stuffing a few clothes into the bag. "We will talk about it later."

"I'll drop you to the airport." he said.

"I'll just call an Uber." I said. "You've had a long day. And I'll be back in a day or two."

"Oh okay."

Anup helped me pack. He was actually helping me pack as I took an impulsive trip to see Lallan. I hated what I had become. But I couldn't help it. I needed Lallan. I needed him right away.

On the way to the airport, I looked up the address to the Hyatt Ahmedabad. I was still a little under the influence of alcohol, so to dissuade any questions or suspicions, I changed into the skirt suit before boarding the flight. If there is one thing everyone in the Indian service industry respects, it is formal clothing.

When I landed in Ahmedabad and took a cab to the Hyatt, there was still an hour left before Lallan's specified time. As I stepped into the hotel, I suddenly felt the ful weight of what I had done. I had lied to my husband and lied to Lallan to engineer this hook-up in the middle of the night in a random city.

I had a couple of drinks at the bar before stepping out at 1130 and waited for my tormentor, my lover, my second husband.

And that's how I had ended up with this strange man's dick in my mouth in a moving truck as Lallan rained spanks on my half-exposed ass.

--END OF THE STORY--

[pastispresent]

Thanks for sharing these stories with us @elite1392

[foogy]

LOL , this is not the end .. there is a post after this as well

[elite1392]

Thanks for sharing these stories with us @elite1392

My pleasure @pastispresent

[Khiladi007]

Nice story.. but ends so early

[KasunMadhawa]

Nice story

[sri7869]

Good story

[KKANE403]

The is still some part left in story

[KKANE403]

Oh man...she is good." Munaf inhaled as I pressed my tongue against his thick dick in my mouth. It stank and it had brambly pubic hair around it, but the filthiness of the situation was turning me on instead of disgusting me. Which made me feel disgusted about myself and the decisions I had taken to get here. I sucked at the dick hungrily, with my index finger and thumb grasping tightly at the base of the shaft.
Lallan had meanwhile rolled my formal skirt all the way up. The customary hard spanks were being delivered on my ass cheeks. I was wearing boyshorts style black lace panties. Lallan had pushed the fabric into my ass crack and my round exposed ass shone in the dim street light filtering through the truck's windows.
"Where did you learn to suck dick like this, memsaab?" Munaf said, fondling my boobs over my top between changing gears as he drove the truck.
"I had to teach her. Earlier she used to be like no Lallan darling please I don't like it. She didn't know what was good for her."
Although I had never once called him darling, he had indeed gotten me into giving blowjobs. I used to really hate it. It was one of my turn-offs for most of my life. But Lallan had bent me to his will in more ways than one. My husband liked that change in me though, now that I had started sucking his dick too. He had been very surprised the first night when he was back and I slithered down in bed and took his dong in my mouth. After years of dating and marriage, it was the first time I had initiated a blowjob. Thankfully, he was delighted rather than suspicious.
"She is a kinky slut this one." Lallan pinching my butt hard. "She pretends to be all pure and noble and breaks up people's marriages. But as the night proceeds, you will see what else she has learned from me. She can get really adventurous. We just need to give her some booze."
"I can smell alcohol on her breath already." Munaf said.
"Yeah, she loves to drink. And then telling wives to leave their husbands for drinking. Such a bitch. Here, memsaab, have some."
A bottle of hooch was pushed towards me. I took a few big swigs of a strong fruity tasting alcoholic liquid and felt it sear my throat as it went down. During this, I still kept jacking off the truck owner's dick with my other hand.
I could see Munaf's face looking down at mine for a while, in his lap, and worried he wasn't looking at the road. Sure enough there was a loud honk from an oncoming vehicle and he jerked the truck to avoid a collision. His dick slipped out of my mouth. That shaking made the bottle splash some drink over my clothes and his lap.
"Fuck!" he said and I felt the truck slowing down.
"Careful, Munaf bhai." Lallan said.
"Sorry, this curvy memsaab's gorgeous face in my lap, her lips around my dick, looking into my eyes, drinking hooch...it was too much distraction. You really have bagged quite the item, Lallan."
The looking into into his eyes was another of Lallan's teachings. He loved having eye contact during blowjobs, as if to remind us both of who we were and what we were doing.
"That lane looks dark and empty. Maybe it's time for a break." Tony said from behind, where the naked stocky Kanta was still sucking his dick making gagging sounds.
"Hmmmm." Munaf said grabbing at my hooch stained chest. I started putting my mouth over his dick again when he pulled me up by the hair.
I looked into his eyes again.
"Enough with the mouth for now. Sit up." he said and I did as was told.
We were still on the outskirts of Ahmedabad, but this was a dark lane for sure. Street lights weren't on. No other drivers and no cops around, I guess they were okay having my head visible through the windshield. Soon it was more than just my head.
As Munaf slowly pulled the truck at the far end of the lane, Lallan took the bottle away from my hand and was rapidly stripping me in the crowded cabin. My skirt was pulled off with my panties and I heard Tony sigh and chuckle looking at my shaved pussy. Even Kanta was staring with some admiration. My jacket and top were off too and soon I was just in a bra. The truck had stopped by now. I expected Lallan to pull me onto his dick soon. But today, he seemed more keen on showing me off. And sharing my perversions with the others.
"You have the honor of getting her fully naked, Munaf Bhai." Lallan magnanimously said, spanking my round ass a couple of times.
The chubby man looked at me hungrily.
"Get in the back." he said.
I obeyed. It's not like I had much of a choice. But more than that, I did want this. I wanted his thick circumcised dick inside me. Regular vanilla sex with Anup had been nice but had not been able to fully satisfy the way I wanted. Lallan truly had broken something inside my head. Wearing just my bra, I put one leg over the truck's front seat. I could feel the cheap rexine edge of the backrest dig into at my pussy and even that tiny bit of pressure sent a thrill through me. I really was like an animal in heat.
"She's a tall one, isn't she?" Munaf said as one of my feet lightly hit his cheek while I climbed over to the back.
The back portion of the truck cab was small and dark. Tony and Kanta both reached over and fondled my ass as I slid all the way down. They both moved to other side of the bench, she still naked and on her knees. Then Munaf's chubby middle aged body clumsily clambered over the back seat. He stood on his knees on the floor between me and the other woman. He squeezed Kanta's heaving breasts. Then he felt mine over the bra.
"Hard to say whose are bigger."
His hand went behind my back and fumbled with the bra for a few seconds before unhooking it, as if he wasn't used to doing this too often. With the bra falling off, I too was now fully naked like Kanta. I was sitting on my ass nude, surrounded by these people that I barely knew. And yet I didn't feel the slightest need to hide my nakedness. Munaf put one hand on each of our tits and started groping and squeezing like a doctor checking for lumps. Even this ugly fat man's rough touch was making me horny.
"Both have beautiful big tits." he started giving his judgment. "Kanta's might be a little bigger. But memsaab's are more firm. Her nipples are slightly smaller but I like that pink color more than Kanta's dark brown."
Tony next to him and Lallan behind me on the front seat started laughing as Kanta and I both blushed. In even the most extreme situations, there is no limit to male arrogance and female modesty.
"Anyway, enough chit-chat." Munaf said.
No words were said for a while. The back of the cabin was a tiny space, barely 6 feet wide and maybe 3 feet deep, with a curving roof. It was soon full of just awkward movements and bodies hitting bodies and the occasional sigh as Kanta and I stared at each other solemnly. Munaf put one hand on my ass and another on my upper arm to pull me into a doggy position, 45 degrees to the bench, and my elbows resting on it. My long legs, even folded, just barely fit in that space. Kanta mirrored this on her own. She probably had been fucked in the truck before, she seemed more comfortable than me even in the cramped space. Although she was much shorter than I was. Both our torsos formed a V in front of the the bench, with our heads almost touching to make the vertex.
The burly Tony got behind her ass. As Munaf did the same, I looked at Tony's dick, knowing it would be inside me eventually. It was longer than average but thin, a contrast from Munaf's shorter than average but thick stump. I realized that of all three of them, Lallan had the most forgettable dick and the most petite physique and yet he was the one who had orchestrated this perverted gathering by sheer force. When Tony took his shirt off, he revealed a big muscular and hairy chest.
"Look at her checking out the goods." I heard Lallan chuckle from the front seat. I blushed and looked away.
I felt Munaf's hands on my waist, pushing me down to arch my back. I closed my eyes.
"On three...one two..."
I felt the thick helmet head of his dick pushing against my cunt lips.
"Three!" Munaf said.
He shoved his dick inside in one swift motion. Even though I had seen it up close and taken it in my mouth, I was still surprised by how thick it felt inside me. I was wet, but still, not used to the girth.
"Oh...fffuck." I moaned as the dick hit my insides and my head hit Kanta's who had also been penetrated simultaneously.
Munaf started fucking me at a rapid pace instantly. There was no build-up of any kind. He was just pounding me hard like a rutting animal, making my tits swing and hit the wooden bench. I opened my eyes and saw that Tony was going slower with Kanta. But her big tits were also hitting the bench, just a few inches from mine. And of course our heads kept bumping in that tiny space.
Then there were a few bright flashes and I looked back. Of course Lallan was in the middle of the front seat, taking pictures with his phone.
"Oh man, what a sight this is. If we were to turn this into a porn film, we could be rich." he said, with his usual arrogant laugh.
"Unhhh!!" I groaned as Munaf started pounding me even harder. It was the thickest dick I had ever experienced and I was feeling discomfort and pleasure in equal measure. Instinctively, one of my hands reached over and grasped at Kanta's. She was also moaning although not as loudly. Her hand responded and our fingers were interlocked tightly. And just like that a bond of sorts was formed between me and this woman, as we held and braced each other getting fucked side by side in the back of a truck at some random spot in Gujarat. Munaf noticed.
"Looks like...these two women...are becoming...friends." he said breathing heavily as his dick kept ramming my cunt hard.
"Memsaab has a way to bond with maids." Lallan snickered and then he turned on the light in the cabin.
Kanta and I looked into each others eyes, our mouths open and moaning loudly. I could see from her expressions and her body language that she was in a similar position as me. Her mind was not happy to be there but her body was glad she was. Lallan had been right that in terms of free will, she was there just the way I was there.
"This light isn't too good for a video." Lallan grumbled holding his phone up and showing us all the grainy footage he had just captured. Even in that bad resolution, the scene looked so insanely perverted and also erotic.
"You can try in the morning again." Tony said, still fucking Kanta in deep luxurious strokes.
By this stage I had admitted to myself that the pictures and videos didn't matter, so I didn't feel anything about him capturing this foursome either. As Neeta had said correctly during the therapy sessions, it wasn't really about the pictures and videos. And even if it was, he had enough of them anyway. The truth was, I had changed, and had fallen into a destructive spiral of sexual abuse, which I had somehow started enjoying. I was no different than Parvati or Kanta here, no matter how educated and qualified and self-righteous and self-piteous I decided to be. Even in the middle of that intense rapid fucking by a complete stranger's thick dick, it was like an epiphany.
"Hrmmhrmmm." I heard Munaf make a guttural sound and felt his dick thick throb a little inside me.
"Bhai, not inside." Lallan said. "Don't want the cunt all sloppy and messed up."
"Of course." he nodded.
The chubby middle aged man moved with surprising speed as he took his dick out and pulled me into an uncomfortable kneeling position. I opened my mouth thinking he wanted that. But instead the thick dick shot a big load all over my face. It was a lot of cum. He splashed my forehead, eyes, cheeks, lips, hair, and some landed on my boobs.
"I love these kinds of pictures of her that you showed me. Her face all happy and well fucked with jizz all over it." Munaf said. "Don't wipe it off yet."
Munaf bent down and posed with his face next to mine and holding up a victory sign. Lallan took a bunch of pictures as keepsakes. A permanent reminder of me naked on my knees, face covered with the cum of a man I had barely met an hour before, in the back of a truck.
I wasn't expecting a break or a respite, but was still surprised at how quickly the configuration of our sweaty naked bodies changed. Clambering over me, Munaf went back to the front seat. Tony took his dick out of Kanta and slid over behind me as Lallan climbed into the back. Soon Tony's tall swarthy body was behind my tall curvy one and his longish dick was inside me, reminding me of how it felt with my husband.
Soon Kanta and I were forming that V again, cum dripping from my face to the seat. Lallan made Kanta lick the drops from the seat as he fucked her. He watched with a proud look on his face as the swarthy Tony slowly and skillfully fucked me in deep and meaningful strokes. It wasn't the one-pace pounding that Munaf had given me, although I had liked it. But the handsome and well-built Tony was clearly a more experienced and more knowledgeable lover. Within a couple of minutes of his fucking, I could sense that I was going to cum soon. He varied his pace masterfully, shifting between deep rapid thrusts and slower strokes. His hands were also doing more than just spank my ass or squeeze my tits. Tony kept one hand under my body all the time playing with my clit.
Lallan's short wiry body meanwhile was banging against the stocky Kanta's with his usual intensity and rhythm. As she and I locked hands again, with our eyes and mouths wide open and moaning in rhythm, it was clear to us both that we were about to cum. Maybe at the same time. Munaf was now at the middle of the front seat, recording all this on his camera and taking a few pictures in between.
And sure enough, it happened. I gripped Kanta's fingers tightly as the orgasm from Tony's talented fucking hit me. And maybe it was a coincidence or just seeing me in that state that pushed her over the edge just a couple of seconds later. The two men proudly kept banging us as the two of us moaned and shook and screamed through simultaneous orgasms.
"That was amazing! Both sluts came at once!" Munaf said, phone still pointed at us, as Kanta and I recovered from our orgasms.
Before either of us could think or say anything, the two guys withdrew their dicks. Knowing the drill, we both faced them. But both dicks were in my face and the sperm from both Tony and Lallan hit me again. Kanta's face escaped the mess.
"Hahahaha!" all three men were laughing as my face was caked in their ejaculates while I sat naked on the floor of the truck cabin. Kanta was sitting next to us breathing hard.
There was another photo session. Tony with my cum-covered face. Then Lallan and Tony together on their knees with their dicks bracketing my cum-covered face. Then Kanta licking my cum-covered face. Then Kanta and my big boobs next to each other. And so on. The three men kept laughing and exchanging high fives as the two of us pliantly took whatever poses they wanted and submitted to more electronic records of our depravity being created.
Soon they realized that they were falling behind in terms of their deadline and the truck got moving again. The three men sat in the front fully dressed. And the two of us, naked on all fours, were told to crawl around naked in that tiny back space "cleaning" the jizz from the floor and bench. In that tiny space, our asses hanging in the air, Kanta and I crawled around, bumping into each other. Munaf kept driving but occasionally looked back. The other two kept looking at us and taking pictures even in the dim cabin light though, reaching over to pinch or fondle our naked bodies.
"Shit! security officer checkpost!" Munaf said as I felt the truck slowing down. The cabin light was quickly turned off and it was all dark again.
"You two, go in the back now! And stay quiet!" Lallan said, a rare worried edge to his voice.
I was confused for a few seconds. We were already in the back. What did he mean? But Kanta clearly knew her way around the truck because I saw her big dusky ass swing as she crawled past the bench and to the back wall of the cabin. And then she opened a small slotted window that I had not noticed before. It must have been 2 feet by 2 feet, if that. Kanta put her arms and head through it and started crawling across. Her dark asshole and cunt flashed right in front of my face and I looked away out of courtesy. It was a tight fit for her stocky body but she managed to go through.
"Go go go, you cunt!" Lallan growled.
And I too was climbing through that tiny square in the back of the truck cabin. Wondering how my own asshole and cunt must have been clearly visible to the men. But I doubt they were watching. They seemed clearly worried. When I landed with a thud into the back deck of the truck, Kanta reached over and closed the small door. And then she sat on her ass naked, her legs folded, with her palm over her mouth. She seemed to know what she was doing. So I did the same.
Even in the darkness, I could make out that we were surrounded by boxes and crates piled up all around us. Except for a short space that we were occupying, the rest of the space seemed packed. This was such an unfamiliar situation, I had no idea what to do or say other than follow Kanta's lead. But I could overhear what the men were saying.
"Just like the last time, remember? Potato chips and other snacks. You know the boxes they will check." Munaf said tensely as the truck was close to stopping.
"Will your memsaab keep her mouth shut?" Tony said.
"Don't worry about her. She is my bitch. Besides, she doesn't know anything." Lallan said trying to sound his usual arrogant self, but I could sense the tension in his voice. I did not know what he meant by my not knowing anything.
There was silence for a while as the truck stopped completely. Then I heard a door open.
"Salam, sir." Munaf's voice.
"License, insurance, permit, invoice." a security officerman's voice, presumably said.
There was silence for a while again. There was some ambient light coming through the holes in the tarp surrounding us. I saw Kanta curled up and really terrified. I didn't understand why.
"Kanta why are..." I started whispering.
"SHHHHHH!!" she said harshly, sounding like she was on the verge of crying.
I stayed silent. There were some more conversations about the permit, invoice etc. Then the cop's voice said,
"Okay, one of you get down and open the back."
"It's just potato chips and..."
"I said OPEN IT!!" the cop yelled.
"Okay sir."
As I heard footsteps walk to the back, you can imagine what was going through my head. These men were terrified about what would happen if the cops found two naked women in the back of their trucks. This was my "out" if I wanted. I could scream, tell them I had been kidnapped and bangd. And it would all go away.
But as the back of truck was opened with a rusty whiny sound and the back tarp was pulled up, I said nothing. Some more light filtered through the gaps in the boxes. I stayed silent, pushed against the cold metallic side of the truck.
"It's like I said..." I heard Tony's voice say.
"Quiet!" the cop growled.
I heard a few footsteps heavily get into the back of the truck. There was a sound of some boxes and crates being opened. And the plastic rustling of packets. Some more boxes and crates were opened. The whole time I knew that I was just a few feet away from my possible salvation. Sure, I was naked and my face still had cum residue on it. But these were security officermen. I had years of experience dealing with security officermen. I knew security officermen. All I had to do was stand up and scream.
But I stayed curled up with my palm on my mouth.
"Okay. This looks fine. Potato chips and snacks." the cop finally said, sounding bored.
The footsteps receded. The back of the truck was closed. It was dark again. There were muffled sounds of conversation on the outside, but I could not make out what was said. When I felt like we were "safe", I whispered,
"Kanta, what was that all about?"
No response.
"Kanta?"
I crawled over to her. She was in a fetal position, fast asleep. She looked so tired. I felt bad for her. Who knew how long she had been the fucktoy for these three men.
That's when I heard the doors of the truck slam shut and it started moving.
"That was close, Munaf bhai." Lallan said. "The guy was just a couple of boxes away."
"It's okay now." Munaf said. "The cops don't go beyond a few boxes unless they suspect something."
"I was terrified we would get caught." Tony said.
"We were playing it a bit risky for sure." Munaf said. "Lallan, I appreciate getting to fuck those women. But we need to be careful. Sex is great and trust me, fucking a gorgeous memsaab like that is a dream come true. But we need to be more careful."
"Yes, Bhai." Lallan sounded strangely deferential.
"From now on, no more fucking or playing while driving. Only when we are off-road. Get it?"
The other two just hmmed. They were quiet for a while. Kanta was fast asleep and in fact snoring. I heard the slot door being opened. I too curled up and started simulating snoring noises. I sensed a head peer through the gap.
"Both of them are asleep." I heard Tony's voice say.
"We did fuck the daylights out of them." Lallan said and snickered.
And the three men started laughing. Tony's head disappeared. And the three men laughed for a little while more.
"I will feel safer when we are out of Gujarat," Munaf finally said. "Too many fucking cops in Gujarat. Rajasthan is better that way."
The truck picked up speed and kept going. I could hear the three men discuss my body, my cunt, my mouth, my sexual appetite, and so on. But I wasn't really paying attention to that. I was confused and intrigued by what had happened.
Initially, I had assumed that the men were terrified about getting caught with two naked women in their truck. But one thing struck me as odd. Lallan saying the cop was just a couple of boxes away. When in fact the cop was several rows away from us. He would have had to wade through the entire packed truck to find us, unless one of us screamed. Munaf saying earlier, remember, just potato chips and stuff. And the cop had found potato chips. So...what was I missing? He had also said I didn't know anything. What did I not know?
I got on all fours very slowly and crawled naked to the nearest crate. It was nailed shut, but some plastic stuff was bulging out of the slats in the crate. I poked at it. It was something powdery. Definitely not potato chips or snacks. I crawled to the next crate and poked through the slats. Same stuff. Soft and powdery. I checked a couple of more crates and felt the same thing. Is this what they were afraid the cops would discover? What was going on here exactly? I moved to another crate and found that the plastic packet with the soft powdery stuff had a small hole in it. I dipped a finger in and tasted it. And I felt a slight jolt in my brain.
An hour or so later, I was half-asleep as I felt the truck slowing down. I sat up. The truck stopped.
"I will show you what that cunt memsaab is capable of." I heard Lallan say.
The slot door opened soon.
"Shikha madam!! Get the fuck up!" I heard Lallan lustily say. It sounded like he had been drinking now that the truck had presumably left the city..
I opened my eyes and looked him. He gestured with his fingers to come out through the tiny slot. And I did. As I squeezed my naked body through the small space into the front, I saw Tony and Munaf staring hungrily at me from the front seat.
I was led down the truck. The men got down behind me, each of them groping my ass and tits. We were in a dark empty field a couple of hundred feet from the highway. The moon had just risen and that was the only light.
I stare back at the three men eyeing me hungrily, wondering if Kanta was going to be dragged down next. But it turned out I was only star of this particular session under the stars. Lallan had a bottle of hooch in his hand that he took a big swig out of and then he handed it to Tony. Lallan's hand then went to his waist. I knew what was coming. The belt slid out with a swishing sound.
"Come here." he said in that manic voice.
I had stopped pretending to dread it or hate it. He slapped me hard with his palm and then the back of his hand on my cheeks with full force. Sure to leave bruises. The two men, despite having seen the videos, seemed a little taken aback by the force with which their lowly colleague was manhandling a memsaab.
Even through the tears that involuntarily sprang up in my eyes, I looked at Lallan who made a gesture at the side of the truck. I knew what it meant. I could read his gestures and desires better than those of my husband. I bent in the waist grabbing the edge of the truck carriage. And I arched my waist just the way he like making my big creamy ass stick out under the moonlight.
"See this." Lallan said to the others.
SPLAT! SPLAT!
Two hard strokes of the belt landed on my ass. I cried out with pain but also arousal. Six more strokes landed in rapid succession with the other two men staring and also nervously chuckling.
"Check her cunt."
Munaf approached me and stuck his fingers inside me.
"Really wet! Wetter than before! She does like it." he said amazed.
"You try."
Munaf took the belt. And started whipping my ass too. But he didn't have the same power or intensity as Lallan, clearly holding back. He was enjoying this rare opportunity but he was clearly still wasn't the sadistic psychopath that Lallan was. It was the same with Tony Then Lallan closed out the whipping session with a dozen hard blows.
Delirious from pain and arousal, I was dragged to a grassy patch. Lallan first put the bottle of hooch to my mouth and held it until I had emptied the bottle.
"The booze helps loosen her asshole." Lallan said very matter-of-factly.
Munaf was on the ground with his pants off. I staggered even the 3 steps, almost losing balance, without any prompting. I slumped on top of him with my knees on either side of his waist. The men laughed with wicket delight as reached down with my hand and guided the thick dong into my cunt and started slowly riding him. He put his palms on my ass and squeezed. I winced because his fingers cause pains on the welts left by Lallan's belt.
"Tony. Try her ass. Spit on it a few times." I vaguely heard Lallan say. The booze was starting to course through my already battered system.
I only barely registered Tony's presence behind me. But I did feel his spit hit my ass and his fingers rubbing it. And then, even as Munaf's dick was sending pleasure waves around my cunt, I felt Tony's dick invade my asshole. And that first ever double penetration instantly sent me over the edge...
--------------
"Stop! Stop!" Nita said raising her voice.
I looked up at her disturbed face. I had been staring at my palms while narrating everything.
"I understand the need for you to get this all out. But I have my limits too." Nita shuddered. "I don't think I can take this level of detail anymore."
"Okay." I said, meekly nodding and involuntarily rubbing my ass along the couch as I remembered how it had felt to be entered by two dicks.
"Just give me the broad summary for today." she said tenderly. "We can cover the details in the next sessions."
"Well, I was about to say that I don't remember much detail after that orgasm, because my blood alcohol level crossed my tolerance soon." I shrugged.
"Okay good. Go on."
"The three men fucke..." I stopped mid-sentence to curb my instinct to give her all the lurid details. "...went at me for about an hour or so at least. Together. Separately. There was more beating and spanking and whipping. I don't remember most of it. Just short flashes. I don't even remember who carried me back to the truck. I woke up in the middle of the night with snores all around me."
"And the truck was still moving?"
"No, it seemed like they were all too tired or drunk for anyone to drive. They were all passed out in the cabin, the truck still by the side of the road."
"And that's when you thought of the exit plan? With Dubey's help?"
"No, I had thought of it much before while exploring the crates. This is when I was able to get my phone and all their phones easily. They had been recording and photographing everything they did with me so they were out there in plain sight, next to their passed out slumped bodies. I..."
--------------
I had been struggling with a lot of conflicting feelings that night. Self-loathing for lying to my husband and even to Lallan because I had been missing his sado-masochistic brand of sex that was the only thing that could now satisfy me. The unexpected thrill of being fucked by two more low class boors. Being in orgies and three-ways and four-ways. The pleasure of finally having multiple satisfying orgasms throughout the night, after two unsatisfying weeks with my husband. But most of all, the rational realization that I really was in a co-dependent abusive relationship that was getting out of hand.
I had always had the option of calling in my contacts in the security officer to end the whole saga at any time. My only worry had been all those pictures and videos circulating around the internet and destroying my life even more if Lallan came good on his threats. As much as part of me had wanted it to end, I was not willing to put myself in the direct line of fire. But now I had an indirect way.
After waiting a few minutes to make sure everyone was really completely passed out, I first checked my GPS location on the phone. And then typed a long text message to my old friend Inspector Anil Dubey. I waited an agonizing five minutes until he responded.
- I am on it, Shikha. Hang tight.
I slowly gathered the phones and my purse and slid through the gap into the bed of the truck. I made a slight thump as I landed, but luckily the men kept sleeping. And then I just waited.
I didn't have to wait too long. In just fifteen minutes, there was a loud noise of a couple of security officer sirens and the screeches of tires braking. It shows how much the three men had drunk when gang-banging me that even this loud din did not wake them up.
"Three men passed out. A lot of hooch bottles, Hey, wake up." I heard a male voice say after opening the door. And then I heard a couple of slaps.
"They seem really out of it." the voice continued. "Check in the back. That's where the heroine headed for Punjab is according Delhi's source. And take the lady officer. There might be two kidnapped women."
It's all simple really. Once I discovered that these men were smuggling drugs under the guise of transporting potato chips and snacks, there was no need for me to be in the direct line of fire. Being caught red-handed with the drugs would be enough to put them away. I just needed to share the location of the truck, give a few details of my situation to Anil and count on my goodwill and his discretion to take care of the rest.
I heard the back of the truck open as Lallan, Munaf, and Tony, still passed out, were dragged down from the front cabin. Two sets of footsteps walked through the truck.
"Chips...chips...chips...powder!" a male voice said as the footsteps approached me.
I closed my eyes partially and curled up as a few creates were moved and a face peered through them. He looked surprised at my bruised naked body and then spotted Kanta to.
"Vaishali, you're on. The kidnapped women are here. Naked!"
A female officer approached me and I opened my eyes tiredly. She shone a flashlight and saw the bruises and welts all over my body. I sat up. The commotion had woken up Kanta too who looked petrified.
"It'll be okay, Kanta." I whispered to her as the female officer radioed her colleagues.
------------
"So Dubey came through." Nita said.
"Yes, in quick time. Kanta and I were dressed and taken to a van and given water and some first aid. All the cops were gentle and helpful. Anil had contacted a close friend from his IPS days and made the arrangements I asked him to."
"So you were kept out of the official report."
"Yes. Kanta too. She was sent back to her home. I was put on a train to Delhi. The quantity of drugs in the truck was enough to put the three men away for a while. I could see the junior cops weren't happy with it and were aching to take our statements and search our belongings. But Anil's friend was calling the shots and we were saved the public record of our humiliation and infidelity."
"Hmmmm." Nita said and looked at her clock behind me. It had already been a two hour session.
"That is it I guess." I shrugged and sat back, wincing a little as it made the bruise on my back feel sore.
"It is certainly an acceptable enough end to one part of your saga, Shikha." Nita said. "But what about..."
"I know what you're going to ask. What about Anup? My marriage is over. I can't go back to him. I have too much guilt and my entire mental make-up when it comes to morality as well as sex has been rearranged."
"How did he take it?"
"Angry. Disappointed. Hurt." I slumped forward again. "Obviously I am not going to Stanford either. I cannot in good conscience do it anymore."
"So...what are you going to do next?" Nita asked in a tender voice.
I looked at her, suppressing tears.
"I don't know." I honestly replied.
THE END

[abcturbine]

Good....
The story has potential.....
Some talented writer should take it from here....