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We’d been two years living in Calcutta when my life changed forever.
My husband, Peter, was a high-tech hired gun who’d been brought in by a powerful new Indian computer conglomerate to straighten out the problems that often came to companies that grew too fast. Pete had just finished up grad school at MIT and his skills had started to come in great demand. The company was flying us out first class and had found us an incredibly luxurious home in a fashionable part of Calcutta and they’d already hired us a cook, a maid, and a yard man!
In Boston, I was supporting the two of us on my lowly boutique shop-girl’s salary while Peter went through school and we could barely afford rent and food, forget about the “luxe” life. The idea of being a lady of leisure surrounded by an attentive staff was the stuff dreams were made of and I was packed and ready to go as soon as the offer was made. I promptly tossed all my heavy winter things and went out to purchase the new, summery dresses and high heeled sandals that flattered my very tall, willowy frame, making sure that they were sexy in a way one couldn’t possibly be in a staid city like Boston. I stopped by an extremely pricey French lingerie shop and spent some serious money on new ultra-hot spicy new bras and thong bikini panties in the hopes that the sultry Calcutta weather and our new financial freedom would put the heat back into our rather cool marriage.
My hopes were soon dashed after the first few days in Calcutta when it became apparent that all Pete’s energies would be devoted to making his career and that I would be left to fill my days with the sort of activities a wealthy “ex-pat” housewife would be expected to do. I soon developed the routine of gym in the morning, massage after my workout, lunch at one of the many clubs for ex-pat wives on Calcutta, followed by a nap after lunch. I would arise from my nap, consult with the staff about household management, then I usually had dinner alone while I waited for Peter to return, tired and cranky from work. This, in turn, made me increasingly bored and cranky with the staff and soon enough, the cook and the maid were becoming nervous and apprehensive whenever I would afyon escort spend the day at home.
The cook was an older Sikh woman who cooked delicious vegetarian meals, She was quiet and watchful and would nod a greeting as I entered and exited the home. She spoke very little, avoided me if she could, and left promptly at 7:00 each evening after the dinner was served, leaving the young Hindu maid to clean up. She was rough and abrasive with the young girl and I’d found her once or twice slapping her around for some supposed infraction. I tried to interfere but Peter prevented me, saying it was none of my affair and that if both were performing well I was to say and do nothing. I did notice, though, that the older woman aimed most of her slaps at the girls breasts and ass and she was quite brutal. The girl, Chitra, seemed to offer no resistance and in fact, often would smile in a softly mysterious way while she was being slapped around by the old Sikh bitch. I was, I confess, a little intrigued by the way Chitra often seemed to provoke the older woman into beating her. She would back talk and sass the old bitch in her language, then stand there while the cook would administer those angry blows.
Finally, after a couple of years, I could keep quiet no longer. The beatings were becoming more frequent and with increasing brutality. The old Sikh would be pinching and twisting Chitra’s nipples under her sari while slapping her in her tender areas and Chitra was actually starting to laugh during the punishment. I stormed into the kitchen and lambasted the old Sikh bitch who promptly left the house, angrily cursing and swearing.
I turned to the now crying young maid and asked her what was going on. Even though she was crying, she reassured me that I wasn’t to worry as “That old cow loves me. She will return, I guarantee it” and then she lamented that she would miss her if she didn’t return. I was by now utterly baffled and retreated to my suite with a glass of wine to wonder over what I had seen.
Within a few minutes, the young Chitra knocked on my door and asked if she could come in. AS she stood before me with her eyes downcast, she afyon escort bayan proceeded to whisper softly that she had indeed been a very, very bad girl and that the cook had been right to beat her. She went on to say that the old woman had frequently caught Chitra dressing and playing with herself in the Mistress’s sexy lingerie and that in spite of it, she continued to wear them when ever she could. Chitra felt that she really did need to be punished for her trespass and wanted to make sure that I knew that I was the mistress and Chitra the servant.
I was shocked and kept silent, taking in the supplication of the beautiful young girl and wondering at the strange feeling I was getting. I realized with some degree of shock that I was starting to become a little bit wet and that in fact, I was dying to slap a little sense into that nubile young ass. In fact, I was starting to crave it. My shock continued as Chitra slowly raised the hem of her sari, as she was turning her back to me, and proceeded to bend over and present her proud, firm, young ass to me.
“Miss”, she whispered, “It will help if you use that oil over there before you spank me”
Slowly, almost in shock, I poured the scented oil over her perfectly round cheeks making sure to get some into that stunning peach cleft, and I carefully placed her over my knees, her head down and her feet dangling. Her sari was up over her head and her little shirt was also pushed up over her breasts. She was moaning and squirming a little as I lifted my hand to give her ass a resounding smack! as hard as I could. As I slapped I could feel my own pussy flooding with moisture so I raised my hand again and proceeded to give that nubile little body the spanking of her life. As I spanked my own arousal was becoming too much for me to handle and I found myself moaning along with Chitra as my hand pounded. Chitra’s hands had found her way to her own tits and she was twisting and pinching them as I spanked until I heard her keenly wailing while bucking her ass and hips, grinding them into my lap, spreading her legs and cheeks with her hands so I could slap her pussy and bum-hole. God, how I spanked escort afyon and slapped that perfect little peach until it was a red as an apple and her bucking and thrusting crescendoed into hysteria. She wailed one more time and pitched herself onto the carpet where her hands and fingers brought herself off as she rubbed her clit and finger-fucked her vagina. She soon spent herself and collapsed into a sweaty, wet heap on the carpet, thanking me profusely and kissing my feet.
The realization of what had happened in that last few minutes stunned and shocked me. I stared at the moist spot on my dress where the girl had lain and I watched in wonder and amazement as the girl softly started sucking and licking at my toes. She carefully, softly, gently nibbled and sucked on each little digit until she had worked her way through the feet and started up my leg. She was moaning to herself and almost humming as she licked and nibbled, moist, succulent, pink lips and tongue kissing my calves, knees, thighs, until she was sucking and licking the inside of my drenched, quivering thighs.
With one hand, she unbuttoned my sheer summer dress, exposing my large tits with their huge pink aureoles and rock hard nipples, while, with the other, she pushed aside my thong panties, hiking my skirt over my hips. She left me looking wantonly and whorishly exposed as she leaned back a little, and gazed with devoted, doe-eyes at my naked pussy . When she was satisfied with her work, she leaned into my exposed pussy and started kissing and licking, using her fingers to separate my lips and to force her finger into my wet, creamy vagina while she licked with increasing intensity my stiff, aching clit. I spread my legs as far as I could and started thrusting my cunt forward into her mouth as she sucked and licked, feverishly finger fucking my creamy hole. I was grinding my teeth, feeling like a powerful, Goddess-whore while the maid focused every ounce of her being on my satisfaction. Within a very short time, I was screaming and bucking like an animal, thrusting my hips forward as I came, gushing, into her busy little mouth as she swallowed every ounce of it while moaning and fingering her own pussy.
I lay back against the chair, panting and waiting for the orgasm to subside as I angrily pushed the slutty little servant girl away. I slapped her once across the face while she whispered, “Thank you, Mistress” as I looked up to see my husband, Peter, entering the room, pulling his fly down…
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