In the next few days, I found myself falling deeper and deeper into Jamal's net. He was different from the other men I had slept with. For them, the priority was sex. They were all crazy about my body, loved my big bobs my round bubble butt, and slender and shapely legs, and my pretty face. Jamal liked to have sex too. But for him, the main focus was humiliation and subjugation of a woman he considered to be a snooty high class bitch. I think he sensed that despite my submission to him, I still loathed him. And he wanted to punish me for that loathing by doing a lot of degrading things.
The day after we first established control over me, he came by kinda late. It's as if he knew I would be anticipating his arrival and he wanted to keep me guessing. His Bangali masons turned up for work at 8 am, and watched intently as I saw Vinay off to his car when he left. They craned their necks to see Vinay's car drive away and then looked at me with neutral expressions on their face.
I started wondering what they were thinking about me. Maybe thinking, look how lovingly she sees her husband off, pretending to be a pure decent lady. And yet when our boss comes by, she just lets him have his way with her. As I looked at them, shame overcame me and I blushed. As I turned to walk away, I realized that I was swaying my hips seductively, almost inviting them to watch. I was wearing a long robe over my usual sleeping clothes - tiny hosiery shorts and a t-shirt. I wondered if they were trying to imagine what I had under the robe.*
Once Vinay had left, I acted on Jamal's orders from the previous day - to keep all the windows open. The men kept working and glancing at me, watching me go from the living room to the kitchen, put away dishes from breakfast, and wash them. Their intense looks stirred something in me as well. I took off the robe. and kept doing my chores. I randomly walked out to water the plants, enjoying the attention as the men gaze at my shapely white legs, which were visible all the way from under my crotch. I noticed them adjust their lungis occasionally, probably struggling with erections they got from watching a slutty high class memsaab frolic around in tiny shorts.
Not wanting to appear too eager, I went back in. The hours were ticking by and more and more people were starting to walk past the house. I decided to change into something else. I went to the bedroom, which luckily was not on the side facing the street, and rummaged through my clothes. I had stripped down to my bra and panties and was trying to decide whether to dress for modesty or comfort when the bell rang. I thought of throwing on some clothes before answering it, but I knew it had to be Jamal. So what's the point. Still, I threw on the long robe over my underwear and answered the door. Instead of tying the sash, I just held the front together with one hand.
Sure enough, it was my latest tormentor. He smiled lecherously and wagged his tongue standing outside the door. The men were standing outside the gate trying to give the impression of not staring.
"Have you been waiting for good old Jamalji?" he asked.*
What could I say? Yes? No? That I was actually more excited by the presence of his lean Bangali workers than his domineering disgusting self? What good would that do? He'd probably whip my ass again for insolence.
"Hmmm." I said. And then on an impulse, released my grip on the robe.*
I had done it more for the laborers' benefit than for Jamal. Even from 40 feet away, I was sure they could see that the front of the robe was now open. They could see the middle part of my black bra, my cleavage, my smooth flat stomach, and the V of the front of my black panties. The contrast of the black against my white skin must have made it very apparent. I felt a stirring in my loins as their eyes widened when they watched.
Jamal though thought that the gesture had been aimed at him. And I was signaling my eagerness to have him.*
"Let's go in. You look like a tramp." he said, pushing past me and strolling inside.
I was very slow shutting the door, giving the men a prolonged look at my exposed body.*
Soon I had been led to the kitchen and pushed against the fridge, a few feet from the window. Jamal had chosen the location strategically so his men could have a decent look as their boss ravaged the young wife of another man. The previous day, maybe as he was testing waters, he had let me close the window. This time he flatly rejected a similar request. I didn't ask again. I was actually finding more kinky pleasure in their voyeurism than what Jamal was doing.
He kept my robe on but unhooked my bra and pushed it up, exposing my tits. I tried in vain to cover them, but Jamal kept moving my hand away. Now the men, albeit from a far distance, were getting a glimpse of the side of my naked boobs. I wondered what they thought about my boobs. Round and pendulous size D tits with erect nipples. Were they comparing my tits to the tits of their wives? Did they even have wives? The men looked young, in the early 20s. I was tickled by the possibility that I might be the first woman they had seen naked in the flesh.*
"You want to touch my cock don't you?" Jamal whispered, biting my ears in full view of the men.
"Yes, Jamalji." I said.
"Go ahead. You have my permission." he said as if doing me a favor.
His erection had been poking against my thigh anyway. I reached down and took it out. It felt warm.*
"Did your husband suspect anything?" he asked, still mauling my tits one by one.
"No." I said, running my fingers up and down his shaft.
"He really is a clueless innocent fellow isn't he?"
"Yes he is."
"Wonder what sins he committed to be punished with a harlot like you for a wife."
"Hmmm."
The men seemed to be taking turns watching me for a minute or two each as the others worked on the gravel. They knew the boss was showing off how a nubile young wife was his personal sex slave. But they also knew he was nasty enough to yell at them if the work faltered. They kept rubbing their crotches over their lungis and watching with amazed looks on their faces.
"Do you realize how much gratitude you owe people of this town to keep all this under wraps? In Mumbai, your husband would have found out within days."
"Yes, the people of this town are such saints." I couldn't resist sarcasm.
"Don't get sassy with me." he pinched my waist hard and I winced.
"Sorry."
"You should thank me for not telling your husband."
"Isn't that what I am doing right now?" I asked, jacking his dick off with my hand.
"Say it explicitly." he grabbed my hair and pulled it.
Sighing, I looked towards the men again. They could still see my naked boobs. I wondered if they would masturbate at the memory of my boobs later.
"Thank you, Jamalji." I said in a sincere voice.
"For what?"
"For not telling my husband that I sleep around with other men. That I like the attention of other men. I like playing with different kinds of cocks, young and old." I don't know why I suddenly started saying so much stuff.
Jamal chuckled. He notched it as another victory over me.
"Good girl." he licked my face. "Now your reward is, you get a nice fucking."
He slipped my panties down. Made me take off the robe, take off my bra, and then put the robe back on, but leave it open. The previous day he had fucked me in the kitchen leaning against the window sill. This time, he fucked me standing up pushed against the fridge and the counter. He moved me a little, so that his body hid mine. The men could see his fat hairy naked ass as his dick pistoned in and out of my cunt. They could see my bare left leg that he had held up by his side. And over his shoulder, they could see my face as I looked right into their eyes.
This time, I didn't close my eyes. I kept them open. I bit my lip as Jamal pounded my cunt hard, making the fridge shake. I opened my mouth into an O shape as the fucking intensified sending waves of pleasure through my entire being. I even smiled once in a while when one of the poor Bangali guys shifted uncomfortably. They all seemed shocked that they were getting to watch this real life porn like scene. I wondered why they kept such a respectful distance. Why they didn't come close and get a good look. Maybe take their cocks out and pleasure themselves.*
Jamal put both his hands on my ass and lifted me up a little. I wrapped both my legs around his waist. and my hands around his neck. He was now banging me suspended in the air, although with some support from the fridge and the counter. Having a big belly made it easier for him to hold me like that because it supported a lot of my weight. My robe hung limply over my ass. That unusual position and the thrill of being watched by three horny young men was enough to make me orgasm.
"Doesn't take much to get you flowing." Jamal happily noted.*
The men watched surprised at the range of expressions on my face, my often clenched eyes, my wide mouth, and my shivering limbs as I quaked through the orgasm. When I looked at them after that, they seemed like they had seen a ghost or an alien. I wondered if they even knew about the concept of a female orgasm.
Finally Jamal loosened his grip around my waist. I unwrapped my legs and was slid to the floor.
"Open your mouth." he ordered and I did as was told.
I looked up into his eyes past his hairy paunch. A steady stream of jizz landed in my mouth.*
"Swallow it."
I didn't really need that prodding. I had become quite an accomplished and habitual swallower in recent months.*
I thought now that the morning quickie was done, Jamal would go back to work. But he had other things on his mind first. He made me take him to the bedroom and show him my wardrobe.
"From now on, I pick your clothes. I like this idea of you being in just your undies when I arrive. No robe needed either. In fact take it off right now."
I stood there, naked watching the man twice my age rummage through my clothes to pick out my attire for the day. It was another way for him to exert his control over me.
"We want something sexy but not too trashy. I know you are basically a whore, but you don't need to walk around looking like one."
Eventually he chose a white top with a deep neck and a knee length wrap-around beige skirt. He also picked out underwear.*
"Ok, bathe quickly and then wear this." he said. "It's going to be a busy day today. But I want to be able to see you. So keep coming to the window. It will motivate the men as well."
I did as was told, parading around the house frequently. Even though the men had already seen my naked tits, they didn't mind staring at my cleavage in the low cut top either.*
This routine continued over the next few days. I was to answer the door in my underwear when he came. Like clockwork, the men would be standing at the gate, waiting for their morning dose of the voluptuous memsaab's bare flesh. The men would get a good look at me before going back to work. Jamal would then stride in for his morning fuck, always fucking me really rough, either bent over near the window or spread-eagled on the dining table, or standing against the fridge, or sometimes doggy style on the floor. He took great pleasure in exposing me to the men in various states of undress, sometimes displaying my dancing tits, at other times my bare back. But he never showed them anything too much below the waist.
"I don't want those men to get too greedy." he explained one day in the window as he turned me around after stripping my panties off. "They need to remember their place in society. Unwashed, uneducated peasants from Bangladesh need to remember that we are doing them a favor. They can't be encouraged into thinking that they really have a shot at a high class beauty like you. They don't deserve you. Let them be content with the whores in the red light area."
I said nothing, but wondered if Jamal saw the irony in what he was saying. By his logic, he, an old ugly working class man, didn't really deserve a young educated high class married woman like me either. But that didn't stop him from treating me like his fuck toy. His behavior didn't indicate that he thought me any different than those poor laborers who did his bidding. And it went beyond just sex. He kept trying to lord over me and show he was boss in many different ways.
I often felt like I was an adult model on display as he sometimes made me change my clothes several times a day. He'd start me off in something western like tank tops,skirts, shorts, cocktail dresses, summer dresses, and so on. Once he made me wear my business suit. Then around lunch he would lead me to the bedroom and get me to change into something Indian - usually a sari or a low cut and tight salwar kurta. The saris were to be worn as low on my hips as possible and when I was displayed in that state, I noticed that the laborers liked it the most. And the only blouses I was allowed to wear with the saris were sleeves and/or backless.*
"When you wear normal blouses, you look like a normal decent middle class woman. But we both know that is not true. You are a trashy slut, and you should look like a trashy slut." he had said.
He went really crazy with delight when he came across a particularly skimpy blouse that was sleeveless and only had strings in the back. I had bought it for one of our anniversary parties, and it had made Vinay so horny that he had fucked me four times that night after the guests left. I had never imagined that it would end up serving the same purpose for Jamal, who made me wear it often, even if it didn't match with the sari.*
"What kind of a characterless harlot buys something like this?" he had sarcastically asked me when I first put that blouse on at his demand.
"I guess someone like me." I had learned that Jamal's rhetorical questions were not really rhetorical and I was expected to give subservient answers. When I had given sassy replies once or twice, he had promptly bent me over and whipped me with his belt. Although I had grown to enjoy the whippings, I was scared that if he got carried away, he might leave bruises that could reveal everything to Vinay.
"Why did you buy this? Tell me the truth." he asked.
"For an anniversary party."
"Hmmm....so even on the day celebrating your marriage, you wanted all the other men to see your bare flesh and get hard?"
"Yes. I got really turned on when all the men at the party saw my bare back and got horny." That really hadn't been the reason, but by now, Jamal had "trained" me well and I knew the responses he'd approve of.
"Did any of them fuck you on the side?"
"No."*
"Did you want them to?"
"No." There was a limit to how much I would lie for him. There was no way I was going to say to him that I wanted the males at the party, which included just relatives and good friends, to have sex with me.
"You're lying. I know what a slut you are." he had cackled.
Then there were the accessories. He had always shown his fetish for my mangalsutra and it progressed to even kinkier levels. He routinely wrapped the mangalsutra around his dick when he made me give him a blowjob. Sometimes he looped it and made me wear it around my forehead, the locket portion banging against my nose with every thrust of his dick inside my cunt. While rummaging through my closets, he had discovered that I had three other mangalsutras, and they all got defiled. One day he rolled one up and shoved it inside my cunt and ordered me to leave it in there all day. It felt really uncomfortable.
There was other jewelry like my earrings, necklaces, brooches, anklets, bangles, nose rings, toe rings, and even a gold belly chain that Vinay had bought me from the gulf. Jamal loved that belly chain. He once had me parade around him in just my bra and that belly chain and fucked me in front of a mirror, his fingers pulling the chain tight into my skin. Almost every piece of my jewelry got splashed with his cum as the days passed.
"What's with the sindoor?" Vinay asked me one Sunday. That was the only day he got off from work and spent at home. I was thankful that Jamal and his men also had that day off and my tormentor had the decency to stay away and give me a break from the humiliation.
I was taken aback by the question. He had been so busy with work that he had never noticed even the tiny clues around the house that something odd was going on, like how many of my clothes were always in the laundry basket, or why I always seemed so exhausted when he got back. But he had noticed the tiny box of sindoor.
"What do you mean?" was all I could come up with.
"Since when do you wear sindoor? I have never seen you wear it."
It was a valid question. Our community did not have the tradition of married women wearing sindoor in their hair. It was more of a North Indian thing. But that's probably why Jamal had insisted that I buy some and put it on when he was around. In addition to my mangalsutra, it was another symbol that reminded him that I was a married woman that he was using as his fuck toy. I would put some on when he came, and wash it off before Vinay got home.
"Just bought it on a whim. All the women here wear it." I said.
"That's weird. You have always been such a feminist and so critical of these patriarchal symbols. Strange to see you flirt with this sign of female subservience." Vinay smiled.
I wanly smiled back. If only you knew, my dear husband, how subservient your wife has been recently.
When Jamal returned on Monday, he seemed extra anxious to make up for the lost day. He was in a particularly sadistic and dominant mood that day. After the morning fuck he didn't leave but sat in front of the TV. I headed to take a bath but he ordered me to come to him.
"Get on all fours in front of me."*
I did as was told, naked except for my mangalsutra and the belly chain. Was he going to make me suck him off?
"Move a little that way."
And then he raised his feet and put them on my ass.*
"Good girl. I feel like raising my feet a little." he said.
There was a perfectly good ottoman he could have used. But in using me like that, naked on my hands and knees, just as a foot rest, was yet another way he wanted to humiliate me and show me that he was boss. He kept me like that for half an hour, before taking his feet off and making me suck his dick before letting me go.
How much lower was he going to make me sink, I wondered.
One morning, I was dressed in a robe with my underwear underneath, seeing Vinay off. The Bangali laborers were there working down the street, but Jamal had not turned up yet. At the gate, Vinay turned around, wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss. The workers paused in their work and stared, with looks of disdains on their faces and saying something to each other.
"Look at those guys staring." Vinay whispered. "People in this town are so old-fashioned. It's like they have never seen a man kiss his wife before."
"Ignore them." I said.
"Yeah, I will, but seriously, such blatant stares. It's like they are stripping you with their eyes." he sounded a little annoyed.
The last time Vinay got upset about unwanted attention from men in town, I had been made to pay. I really hoped he wouldn't do something stupid again. Luckily, he just got in his car and drove off.
I stood at the gate looking at the men. They were staring at me without any pretense now. Where was the need for the pretense anyway? I could also see barely concealed disgust on their faces. In their minds, I was probably a conniving nympho who acted all pristine and loving towards her husband. But when the husband was away at work, earning a living, I was a willing sex slave for their boss. If they felt disgust towards me, it was understandable.
In some ways, it was true. But I really didn't think of myself as Jamal's sex slave. Once his "reign" had started, the only way for me to deal with all the ignominy was to tell myself that even if he acted like he owned, my ass, it was only because I took pleasure in it. I had recently begun to understand the depths of my own depravity and in my mind, Jamal was just an enabler who was in the right place at the right time.*
Jamal also had an odd psyche. Even though he frequently kept reminding me how I was just a worthless characterless slut who would open her legs for any man who tried, he didn't seem to like it if I showed any signs of enjoying myself.*
Once he was fucking me doggy style on top of the dining table. The men were standing across the compound wall watching. Jamal, still intent on enforcing some limits in what he showed the men, had me topless, but had made me keep a skirt on. So the skirt hid my ass and pussy as his erect dick pummeled me. I had my hands on the table, grimacing and grunting as Jamal banged me hard and fast with his hand on my waist grabbing the belly chain, like he usually did. I was feeling particularly randy that day.*
I looked up and out the window towards the men, making eye contact. They were fidgeting and watching, and I saw the mixture of disgust and lust in their eyes. I smiled. One of them smiled back. Such nice lean guys, getting teased on a daily basis. They probably got blue balls with all the teasing. I felt a little bad for them. So to give them a tiny reward, I took one hand off the table and moved it to my side. Slowly, I pulled at my skirt. It moved up my ass, exposing my pulsating round white cheeks to the men for the first time. Their eyes grew big as they saw how big and round my butt was. How the skin on my hips shivered with each stroke. How hard Jamal was ramming me.
That sent a big surge of pleasure through my entire beings. Suddenly I felt like I was a performer, putting on a show to entertain those poor men. Having pulled my skirt all the way up to my waist, I felt so turned on that I started ramming my ass back into Jamal's waist, feeling his big tummy rub against my skin. He was fucking me and now I was fucking him back, in a delirious state of arousal with the audience getting to see something new. I even tightened my cunt muscles around his dick, something I never really did with him.
"What the fuck?" Jamal suddenly noticed what was happening. I had moved my hand back to the table, and he probably had his eyes closed so he didn't realize that I was the one showing my ass to the men gladly. He pulled my skirt back. But I was still staring into the men's eyes and in a different zone. I kept pounding my ass back into his hips.
Jamal seemed annoyed at this change. Usually I was a passive player, not responding because I was disgusted by his very existence. But now I was enthusiastically fucking him back, staring at his underlings, acting like I actually had agency in this whole situation. He did not like that. He also seemed annoyed at the fact that my actions had made him start cumming faster than usual.
He pulled my hair hard making it hurt and started pounding me through his orgasm, as I started having one too. I even laughed a little as the men stared at my swaying naked tits and were smiling.
I knew that the sadistic man would not let this go unpunished. When he finished dumping his seed into my cunt, he slid off the table and closed the window.
"Off the table." he growled, and I obeyed.
I stood there, staring into his eyes defiantly as seething rage was visible on his face. He was trying to decide how to punish me. Then he smiled sadistically.
"Stay here." he said, and pulled up his pants.
Cracking the window open a little, I watched as he walked out of the house and strode towards the men purposefully. I saw him yelling at them for a few seconds while they cowered. Then he walked towards the tempo which had their equipment. When he walked back in the house, he was carrying a roll of jute string. I stared at it, wondering what he had in mind.
"You're getting too big for your panties." he scolded me. "You need to be taught a lesson."
He started unrolling the string and said,
"Put your bra back on, and take off your skirt."
I did as was told.
"Sit!" he pointed to a chair.
I saw no point in resisting as I sat in the chair, naked except for my bra and the belly chain and of course, my mangasutra. He used the string to tie my hands behind the chair really tight. The rough fibers dug into my wrist. Then he ran the string through the belly chain and fastened my waist to the chair. Then, spreading my legs apart, he tied my ankles to the back legs of the chair, making my thighs ache. Out came his smelly old handkerchief and my mouth was gagged tight. And then I was surprised when he went a step further, blindfolding me with a kitchen rag.*
"You fucking bitch, you think you are so smart. I will teach you a lesson."
With my eyes completely shut, my mouth gagged, and my limbs tied so securely to the chair, I felt like a prisoner. I guessed this was my punishment. To be bound painfully tight for a long time. I didn't really mind. I had started reading a lot about BDSM sinc this dalliance with Jamal started and I intended to defy him by deriving pleasure from whatever he inflicted on me.
But I had underestimated how sadistic that asshole was. As I was wondering why he had made me put the bra back on instead of tying me up naked, I soon got an answer to that question.
I heard the fridge door open. And a few seconds later, his wet fingers pulled the right cup of bra.
"unkkkkkkk." was the only semi-guttural sound I could make as I felt 3 cold cubes of ice being inserted into the bra cup. I tried to struggle, but there was no way for me to even move. He then did the same to my other bra cup.
And then laughed maniacally as I shook as much as possible, feeling the deadly cold ice pressed against my nipples and my breasts. This really was not something I could derive pleasure out of.
The day after we first established control over me, he came by kinda late. It's as if he knew I would be anticipating his arrival and he wanted to keep me guessing. His Bangali masons turned up for work at 8 am, and watched intently as I saw Vinay off to his car when he left. They craned their necks to see Vinay's car drive away and then looked at me with neutral expressions on their face.
I started wondering what they were thinking about me. Maybe thinking, look how lovingly she sees her husband off, pretending to be a pure decent lady. And yet when our boss comes by, she just lets him have his way with her. As I looked at them, shame overcame me and I blushed. As I turned to walk away, I realized that I was swaying my hips seductively, almost inviting them to watch. I was wearing a long robe over my usual sleeping clothes - tiny hosiery shorts and a t-shirt. I wondered if they were trying to imagine what I had under the robe.*
Once Vinay had left, I acted on Jamal's orders from the previous day - to keep all the windows open. The men kept working and glancing at me, watching me go from the living room to the kitchen, put away dishes from breakfast, and wash them. Their intense looks stirred something in me as well. I took off the robe. and kept doing my chores. I randomly walked out to water the plants, enjoying the attention as the men gaze at my shapely white legs, which were visible all the way from under my crotch. I noticed them adjust their lungis occasionally, probably struggling with erections they got from watching a slutty high class memsaab frolic around in tiny shorts.
Not wanting to appear too eager, I went back in. The hours were ticking by and more and more people were starting to walk past the house. I decided to change into something else. I went to the bedroom, which luckily was not on the side facing the street, and rummaged through my clothes. I had stripped down to my bra and panties and was trying to decide whether to dress for modesty or comfort when the bell rang. I thought of throwing on some clothes before answering it, but I knew it had to be Jamal. So what's the point. Still, I threw on the long robe over my underwear and answered the door. Instead of tying the sash, I just held the front together with one hand.
Sure enough, it was my latest tormentor. He smiled lecherously and wagged his tongue standing outside the door. The men were standing outside the gate trying to give the impression of not staring.
"Have you been waiting for good old Jamalji?" he asked.*
What could I say? Yes? No? That I was actually more excited by the presence of his lean Bangali workers than his domineering disgusting self? What good would that do? He'd probably whip my ass again for insolence.
"Hmmm." I said. And then on an impulse, released my grip on the robe.*
I had done it more for the laborers' benefit than for Jamal. Even from 40 feet away, I was sure they could see that the front of the robe was now open. They could see the middle part of my black bra, my cleavage, my smooth flat stomach, and the V of the front of my black panties. The contrast of the black against my white skin must have made it very apparent. I felt a stirring in my loins as their eyes widened when they watched.
Jamal though thought that the gesture had been aimed at him. And I was signaling my eagerness to have him.*
"Let's go in. You look like a tramp." he said, pushing past me and strolling inside.
I was very slow shutting the door, giving the men a prolonged look at my exposed body.*
Soon I had been led to the kitchen and pushed against the fridge, a few feet from the window. Jamal had chosen the location strategically so his men could have a decent look as their boss ravaged the young wife of another man. The previous day, maybe as he was testing waters, he had let me close the window. This time he flatly rejected a similar request. I didn't ask again. I was actually finding more kinky pleasure in their voyeurism than what Jamal was doing.
He kept my robe on but unhooked my bra and pushed it up, exposing my tits. I tried in vain to cover them, but Jamal kept moving my hand away. Now the men, albeit from a far distance, were getting a glimpse of the side of my naked boobs. I wondered what they thought about my boobs. Round and pendulous size D tits with erect nipples. Were they comparing my tits to the tits of their wives? Did they even have wives? The men looked young, in the early 20s. I was tickled by the possibility that I might be the first woman they had seen naked in the flesh.*
"You want to touch my cock don't you?" Jamal whispered, biting my ears in full view of the men.
"Yes, Jamalji." I said.
"Go ahead. You have my permission." he said as if doing me a favor.
His erection had been poking against my thigh anyway. I reached down and took it out. It felt warm.*
"Did your husband suspect anything?" he asked, still mauling my tits one by one.
"No." I said, running my fingers up and down his shaft.
"He really is a clueless innocent fellow isn't he?"
"Yes he is."
"Wonder what sins he committed to be punished with a harlot like you for a wife."
"Hmmm."
The men seemed to be taking turns watching me for a minute or two each as the others worked on the gravel. They knew the boss was showing off how a nubile young wife was his personal sex slave. But they also knew he was nasty enough to yell at them if the work faltered. They kept rubbing their crotches over their lungis and watching with amazed looks on their faces.
"Do you realize how much gratitude you owe people of this town to keep all this under wraps? In Mumbai, your husband would have found out within days."
"Yes, the people of this town are such saints." I couldn't resist sarcasm.
"Don't get sassy with me." he pinched my waist hard and I winced.
"Sorry."
"You should thank me for not telling your husband."
"Isn't that what I am doing right now?" I asked, jacking his dick off with my hand.
"Say it explicitly." he grabbed my hair and pulled it.
Sighing, I looked towards the men again. They could still see my naked boobs. I wondered if they would masturbate at the memory of my boobs later.
"Thank you, Jamalji." I said in a sincere voice.
"For what?"
"For not telling my husband that I sleep around with other men. That I like the attention of other men. I like playing with different kinds of cocks, young and old." I don't know why I suddenly started saying so much stuff.
Jamal chuckled. He notched it as another victory over me.
"Good girl." he licked my face. "Now your reward is, you get a nice fucking."
He slipped my panties down. Made me take off the robe, take off my bra, and then put the robe back on, but leave it open. The previous day he had fucked me in the kitchen leaning against the window sill. This time, he fucked me standing up pushed against the fridge and the counter. He moved me a little, so that his body hid mine. The men could see his fat hairy naked ass as his dick pistoned in and out of my cunt. They could see my bare left leg that he had held up by his side. And over his shoulder, they could see my face as I looked right into their eyes.
This time, I didn't close my eyes. I kept them open. I bit my lip as Jamal pounded my cunt hard, making the fridge shake. I opened my mouth into an O shape as the fucking intensified sending waves of pleasure through my entire being. I even smiled once in a while when one of the poor Bangali guys shifted uncomfortably. They all seemed shocked that they were getting to watch this real life porn like scene. I wondered why they kept such a respectful distance. Why they didn't come close and get a good look. Maybe take their cocks out and pleasure themselves.*
Jamal put both his hands on my ass and lifted me up a little. I wrapped both my legs around his waist. and my hands around his neck. He was now banging me suspended in the air, although with some support from the fridge and the counter. Having a big belly made it easier for him to hold me like that because it supported a lot of my weight. My robe hung limply over my ass. That unusual position and the thrill of being watched by three horny young men was enough to make me orgasm.
"Doesn't take much to get you flowing." Jamal happily noted.*
The men watched surprised at the range of expressions on my face, my often clenched eyes, my wide mouth, and my shivering limbs as I quaked through the orgasm. When I looked at them after that, they seemed like they had seen a ghost or an alien. I wondered if they even knew about the concept of a female orgasm.
Finally Jamal loosened his grip around my waist. I unwrapped my legs and was slid to the floor.
"Open your mouth." he ordered and I did as was told.
I looked up into his eyes past his hairy paunch. A steady stream of jizz landed in my mouth.*
"Swallow it."
I didn't really need that prodding. I had become quite an accomplished and habitual swallower in recent months.*
I thought now that the morning quickie was done, Jamal would go back to work. But he had other things on his mind first. He made me take him to the bedroom and show him my wardrobe.
"From now on, I pick your clothes. I like this idea of you being in just your undies when I arrive. No robe needed either. In fact take it off right now."
I stood there, naked watching the man twice my age rummage through my clothes to pick out my attire for the day. It was another way for him to exert his control over me.
"We want something sexy but not too trashy. I know you are basically a whore, but you don't need to walk around looking like one."
Eventually he chose a white top with a deep neck and a knee length wrap-around beige skirt. He also picked out underwear.*
"Ok, bathe quickly and then wear this." he said. "It's going to be a busy day today. But I want to be able to see you. So keep coming to the window. It will motivate the men as well."
I did as was told, parading around the house frequently. Even though the men had already seen my naked tits, they didn't mind staring at my cleavage in the low cut top either.*
This routine continued over the next few days. I was to answer the door in my underwear when he came. Like clockwork, the men would be standing at the gate, waiting for their morning dose of the voluptuous memsaab's bare flesh. The men would get a good look at me before going back to work. Jamal would then stride in for his morning fuck, always fucking me really rough, either bent over near the window or spread-eagled on the dining table, or standing against the fridge, or sometimes doggy style on the floor. He took great pleasure in exposing me to the men in various states of undress, sometimes displaying my dancing tits, at other times my bare back. But he never showed them anything too much below the waist.
"I don't want those men to get too greedy." he explained one day in the window as he turned me around after stripping my panties off. "They need to remember their place in society. Unwashed, uneducated peasants from Bangladesh need to remember that we are doing them a favor. They can't be encouraged into thinking that they really have a shot at a high class beauty like you. They don't deserve you. Let them be content with the whores in the red light area."
I said nothing, but wondered if Jamal saw the irony in what he was saying. By his logic, he, an old ugly working class man, didn't really deserve a young educated high class married woman like me either. But that didn't stop him from treating me like his fuck toy. His behavior didn't indicate that he thought me any different than those poor laborers who did his bidding. And it went beyond just sex. He kept trying to lord over me and show he was boss in many different ways.
I often felt like I was an adult model on display as he sometimes made me change my clothes several times a day. He'd start me off in something western like tank tops,skirts, shorts, cocktail dresses, summer dresses, and so on. Once he made me wear my business suit. Then around lunch he would lead me to the bedroom and get me to change into something Indian - usually a sari or a low cut and tight salwar kurta. The saris were to be worn as low on my hips as possible and when I was displayed in that state, I noticed that the laborers liked it the most. And the only blouses I was allowed to wear with the saris were sleeves and/or backless.*
"When you wear normal blouses, you look like a normal decent middle class woman. But we both know that is not true. You are a trashy slut, and you should look like a trashy slut." he had said.
He went really crazy with delight when he came across a particularly skimpy blouse that was sleeveless and only had strings in the back. I had bought it for one of our anniversary parties, and it had made Vinay so horny that he had fucked me four times that night after the guests left. I had never imagined that it would end up serving the same purpose for Jamal, who made me wear it often, even if it didn't match with the sari.*
"What kind of a characterless harlot buys something like this?" he had sarcastically asked me when I first put that blouse on at his demand.
"I guess someone like me." I had learned that Jamal's rhetorical questions were not really rhetorical and I was expected to give subservient answers. When I had given sassy replies once or twice, he had promptly bent me over and whipped me with his belt. Although I had grown to enjoy the whippings, I was scared that if he got carried away, he might leave bruises that could reveal everything to Vinay.
"Why did you buy this? Tell me the truth." he asked.
"For an anniversary party."
"Hmmm....so even on the day celebrating your marriage, you wanted all the other men to see your bare flesh and get hard?"
"Yes. I got really turned on when all the men at the party saw my bare back and got horny." That really hadn't been the reason, but by now, Jamal had "trained" me well and I knew the responses he'd approve of.
"Did any of them fuck you on the side?"
"No."*
"Did you want them to?"
"No." There was a limit to how much I would lie for him. There was no way I was going to say to him that I wanted the males at the party, which included just relatives and good friends, to have sex with me.
"You're lying. I know what a slut you are." he had cackled.
Then there were the accessories. He had always shown his fetish for my mangalsutra and it progressed to even kinkier levels. He routinely wrapped the mangalsutra around his dick when he made me give him a blowjob. Sometimes he looped it and made me wear it around my forehead, the locket portion banging against my nose with every thrust of his dick inside my cunt. While rummaging through my closets, he had discovered that I had three other mangalsutras, and they all got defiled. One day he rolled one up and shoved it inside my cunt and ordered me to leave it in there all day. It felt really uncomfortable.
There was other jewelry like my earrings, necklaces, brooches, anklets, bangles, nose rings, toe rings, and even a gold belly chain that Vinay had bought me from the gulf. Jamal loved that belly chain. He once had me parade around him in just my bra and that belly chain and fucked me in front of a mirror, his fingers pulling the chain tight into my skin. Almost every piece of my jewelry got splashed with his cum as the days passed.
"What's with the sindoor?" Vinay asked me one Sunday. That was the only day he got off from work and spent at home. I was thankful that Jamal and his men also had that day off and my tormentor had the decency to stay away and give me a break from the humiliation.
I was taken aback by the question. He had been so busy with work that he had never noticed even the tiny clues around the house that something odd was going on, like how many of my clothes were always in the laundry basket, or why I always seemed so exhausted when he got back. But he had noticed the tiny box of sindoor.
"What do you mean?" was all I could come up with.
"Since when do you wear sindoor? I have never seen you wear it."
It was a valid question. Our community did not have the tradition of married women wearing sindoor in their hair. It was more of a North Indian thing. But that's probably why Jamal had insisted that I buy some and put it on when he was around. In addition to my mangalsutra, it was another symbol that reminded him that I was a married woman that he was using as his fuck toy. I would put some on when he came, and wash it off before Vinay got home.
"Just bought it on a whim. All the women here wear it." I said.
"That's weird. You have always been such a feminist and so critical of these patriarchal symbols. Strange to see you flirt with this sign of female subservience." Vinay smiled.
I wanly smiled back. If only you knew, my dear husband, how subservient your wife has been recently.
When Jamal returned on Monday, he seemed extra anxious to make up for the lost day. He was in a particularly sadistic and dominant mood that day. After the morning fuck he didn't leave but sat in front of the TV. I headed to take a bath but he ordered me to come to him.
"Get on all fours in front of me."*
I did as was told, naked except for my mangalsutra and the belly chain. Was he going to make me suck him off?
"Move a little that way."
And then he raised his feet and put them on my ass.*
"Good girl. I feel like raising my feet a little." he said.
There was a perfectly good ottoman he could have used. But in using me like that, naked on my hands and knees, just as a foot rest, was yet another way he wanted to humiliate me and show me that he was boss. He kept me like that for half an hour, before taking his feet off and making me suck his dick before letting me go.
How much lower was he going to make me sink, I wondered.
One morning, I was dressed in a robe with my underwear underneath, seeing Vinay off. The Bangali laborers were there working down the street, but Jamal had not turned up yet. At the gate, Vinay turned around, wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss. The workers paused in their work and stared, with looks of disdains on their faces and saying something to each other.
"Look at those guys staring." Vinay whispered. "People in this town are so old-fashioned. It's like they have never seen a man kiss his wife before."
"Ignore them." I said.
"Yeah, I will, but seriously, such blatant stares. It's like they are stripping you with their eyes." he sounded a little annoyed.
The last time Vinay got upset about unwanted attention from men in town, I had been made to pay. I really hoped he wouldn't do something stupid again. Luckily, he just got in his car and drove off.
I stood at the gate looking at the men. They were staring at me without any pretense now. Where was the need for the pretense anyway? I could also see barely concealed disgust on their faces. In their minds, I was probably a conniving nympho who acted all pristine and loving towards her husband. But when the husband was away at work, earning a living, I was a willing sex slave for their boss. If they felt disgust towards me, it was understandable.
In some ways, it was true. But I really didn't think of myself as Jamal's sex slave. Once his "reign" had started, the only way for me to deal with all the ignominy was to tell myself that even if he acted like he owned, my ass, it was only because I took pleasure in it. I had recently begun to understand the depths of my own depravity and in my mind, Jamal was just an enabler who was in the right place at the right time.*
Jamal also had an odd psyche. Even though he frequently kept reminding me how I was just a worthless characterless slut who would open her legs for any man who tried, he didn't seem to like it if I showed any signs of enjoying myself.*
Once he was fucking me doggy style on top of the dining table. The men were standing across the compound wall watching. Jamal, still intent on enforcing some limits in what he showed the men, had me topless, but had made me keep a skirt on. So the skirt hid my ass and pussy as his erect dick pummeled me. I had my hands on the table, grimacing and grunting as Jamal banged me hard and fast with his hand on my waist grabbing the belly chain, like he usually did. I was feeling particularly randy that day.*
I looked up and out the window towards the men, making eye contact. They were fidgeting and watching, and I saw the mixture of disgust and lust in their eyes. I smiled. One of them smiled back. Such nice lean guys, getting teased on a daily basis. They probably got blue balls with all the teasing. I felt a little bad for them. So to give them a tiny reward, I took one hand off the table and moved it to my side. Slowly, I pulled at my skirt. It moved up my ass, exposing my pulsating round white cheeks to the men for the first time. Their eyes grew big as they saw how big and round my butt was. How the skin on my hips shivered with each stroke. How hard Jamal was ramming me.
That sent a big surge of pleasure through my entire beings. Suddenly I felt like I was a performer, putting on a show to entertain those poor men. Having pulled my skirt all the way up to my waist, I felt so turned on that I started ramming my ass back into Jamal's waist, feeling his big tummy rub against my skin. He was fucking me and now I was fucking him back, in a delirious state of arousal with the audience getting to see something new. I even tightened my cunt muscles around his dick, something I never really did with him.
"What the fuck?" Jamal suddenly noticed what was happening. I had moved my hand back to the table, and he probably had his eyes closed so he didn't realize that I was the one showing my ass to the men gladly. He pulled my skirt back. But I was still staring into the men's eyes and in a different zone. I kept pounding my ass back into his hips.
Jamal seemed annoyed at this change. Usually I was a passive player, not responding because I was disgusted by his very existence. But now I was enthusiastically fucking him back, staring at his underlings, acting like I actually had agency in this whole situation. He did not like that. He also seemed annoyed at the fact that my actions had made him start cumming faster than usual.
He pulled my hair hard making it hurt and started pounding me through his orgasm, as I started having one too. I even laughed a little as the men stared at my swaying naked tits and were smiling.
I knew that the sadistic man would not let this go unpunished. When he finished dumping his seed into my cunt, he slid off the table and closed the window.
"Off the table." he growled, and I obeyed.
I stood there, staring into his eyes defiantly as seething rage was visible on his face. He was trying to decide how to punish me. Then he smiled sadistically.
"Stay here." he said, and pulled up his pants.
Cracking the window open a little, I watched as he walked out of the house and strode towards the men purposefully. I saw him yelling at them for a few seconds while they cowered. Then he walked towards the tempo which had their equipment. When he walked back in the house, he was carrying a roll of jute string. I stared at it, wondering what he had in mind.
"You're getting too big for your panties." he scolded me. "You need to be taught a lesson."
He started unrolling the string and said,
"Put your bra back on, and take off your skirt."
I did as was told.
"Sit!" he pointed to a chair.
I saw no point in resisting as I sat in the chair, naked except for my bra and the belly chain and of course, my mangasutra. He used the string to tie my hands behind the chair really tight. The rough fibers dug into my wrist. Then he ran the string through the belly chain and fastened my waist to the chair. Then, spreading my legs apart, he tied my ankles to the back legs of the chair, making my thighs ache. Out came his smelly old handkerchief and my mouth was gagged tight. And then I was surprised when he went a step further, blindfolding me with a kitchen rag.*
"You fucking bitch, you think you are so smart. I will teach you a lesson."
With my eyes completely shut, my mouth gagged, and my limbs tied so securely to the chair, I felt like a prisoner. I guessed this was my punishment. To be bound painfully tight for a long time. I didn't really mind. I had started reading a lot about BDSM sinc this dalliance with Jamal started and I intended to defy him by deriving pleasure from whatever he inflicted on me.
But I had underestimated how sadistic that asshole was. As I was wondering why he had made me put the bra back on instead of tying me up naked, I soon got an answer to that question.
I heard the fridge door open. And a few seconds later, his wet fingers pulled the right cup of bra.
"unkkkkkkk." was the only semi-guttural sound I could make as I felt 3 cold cubes of ice being inserted into the bra cup. I tried to struggle, but there was no way for me to even move. He then did the same to my other bra cup.
And then laughed maniacally as I shook as much as possible, feeling the deadly cold ice pressed against my nipples and my breasts. This really was not something I could derive pleasure out of.
