Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 10

My maids make me their personal maid and chore slave (continued) - Tarek

I would like to thank Ms. AT Khan for reviewing some of the story with me. - Tarek

*****

Let me start once again from the events of the following morning. I had just woken up with a sore bum - the result of last night's spankings. I was just about to head to my washroom when I remembered what had happened the night before.

"Oh, man." I thought. I recalled the helpless way I had been seated, naked, helpless, humiliated, on my maid Rashida's lap, my bum resting on her thighs, her hands fondling my manhood, stroking me and kneading my balls. I remembered my ardent desire to cum, but the desperate way I controlled myself, no doubt that reaching orgasm without permission would have serious consequences.

"A man would agree to anything in that situation to be permitted to cum." I was trying miserably to rationalize to myself as I realized what I had agreed to. It's amazing what a guy will acquiesce to when he's sitting naked on a woman's lap, and she is stroking his penis, and the guy is hoping she will let him ejaculate. I recalled all of Rashida's and Rubina's instructions - how I was to be their total slave for the next few days.

And how here was I, walking into my own kitchen wearing only a T-shirt. A T-shirt that barely went past my navel and my exposed butts tingled as I walked down the hall way, pausing just for a moment outside the kitchen door, before walking in.

Rubina heard me walk in and turned around.

"Ah, there you are baba. I was wondering if you would be on time, or we would have to discipline you for being late."

I was, of course, standing there in shock, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, looking at Shabina the vegetable lady with a dazed look. I had expected only Rubina or Rashida there. These maids have seen and punished me in the nude, so while I was conscious of my vulnerability and my state of undress, I wasn't expecting any one else to see me in my pitiful condition.

Of course, a real man would never have been in that condition to start with. A real man, as Rubina liked to occasionally remind me, would never let himself be whipped by his maids. She would often taunt in Bengali, "amake amaar mota mota pasa-e chabuk marto and raatre chodto", which roughly translated to "a real man would whip me across my bodacious buttocks and fuck me roughly at night".

And as the maids would repeat often, I wasn't a real man. I was their boy toy, their slave, or, as they lately often called me adorably, their 'kutti' (bitch).

"Cat got your tongue, kutti?" Rubina once again asked me, a little bit of anger creeping into her voice. I noticed Shabina had a somewhat bemused glance on her face. It was now clear she had been briefed on my situation, and was not totally surprised to see me like this. Shame, horror, acute panic were all the feelings that quickly ran rampant as I realized I was now exhibiting full frontal nudity to a lowly woman who was a mere vegetable delivery lady.

"I ... I ..." I stuttered, before composing myself. "Choto bua, can I go to the washroom?"

Rubina snapped her fingers.

"Not now!" She said. "First, come here, baba!"

Meekly, I walked over to stand in front of her, eyes cast down in shame.

"There, didn't I tell you!" Rubina spoke triumphantly to Shabina. "Your respected baba is just my mere slave, my bitch." She then turned to me. "Isn't that right, baba?"

"Ah ... y-yes, choto bua. I, er ..."

"Speak up!" Rubina ordered. "I asked you a question."

"Yes. choto bua." I spoke up. "I am your bitch, your slave."

It didn't help my pathetic situation that I had a hard on, having just woken up.

Rubina turned to Shabina. "Here is baba, our slave, as I was just telling you. Naked, and ready to submit and obey."

"I see it, yet I am not sure I believe it." Shabina exclaimed. "Do you really punish him as you said you do?"

Rubina laughed and replied, "Just watch."

She then turned to me.

"Baba, I am going to slap you. You will count and thank me, and ask to be slapped again."

"Yes, choto bua. Please slap me."

Rubina then raised her hand.

SLAP!

Her fingers made a thundering crack as my cheeks flushed a bright red.

"One. Thank you, choto bua." Almost by rote, I replied. "Please slap me again."

SLAP!

A warm, resounding smack resulted in spreading a warm stinging feeling on my other cheek.

"Two. Thank you, choto bua. Please slap me again."

"Wow." Was all Shabina said.

I stood there shamelessly as Rubina slapped me a few more times.

SLAP!

"Baba here has no self respect."

SLAP!

"A real man would never submit to this degradation."

SLAP!

"Baba is only fit enough to be a slave. A cuckold in training."

SLAP!

"Baba." Rubina now grabbed hold of my left ear and twisted it sharply. "Why did you not say salaam to Shabina apa when you entered the kitchen?"

"I am so sorry, choto bua." I turned to face Shabina. Or I turned as much as I could, given that Rubina was still holding me by the ear. If you think you have ever been humiliated, think about me. I had a hard on, I was naked from waist down, I was just slapped and now being given a kaan dola (ear twist) by a maid who was of my age (actually slightly younger), and all of this was taking place in front of my vegetable lady.

"Salaams Shabina." I greeted her respectfully. "I ... ouch!"

I yelped as Rubina gave my ear a sharp pull.

"Call her apu." Rubina told me, continuing to tug my ear. "Shabina apu would do if there are others around, but she is apu to you."

She twisted my ear even more sharply and ordered, "NEVER call Shabina apa by name."

"Yes, choto bua. Apu." I acquiesced. 'Apu', or 'Apa' both meant sister in Bengali and was usually the term used to respectfully address a woman close to your age, but older.

"Salaams, Shabina apu." I repeated my greeting.

"And salaam to you to, baba." Shabina smirked and returned my greeting, as Rubina stopped punishing my ear.

"Baba." Rubina wasn't finished. "Show her your bangle."

I showed Shabina my right hand. She saw the mark of shame that Rubina had placed on me - her own bangle - signifying that I am not a real man and only fit to be a slave girl to my own maid servants. Rubina told Shabina how I reported to my maids for my weekly punishments and how, now, I was their total slave, ready to obey their slightest wish, and asking for permission for every single act.

I was naked, I had to pee, and I had a hard on. And my cheeks stung from her slaps. And to cap it all, Shabina was now smiling at my predicament. Two days ago, she was the deferential lower class vegetable lady who avoided eye contact with me out of respect. And here she was, taking in my humiliation with gusto.

Rubina now held my penis with her hand. She wrapped her fingers around my shaft and gently rubbed the tip of my manhood with her thumb, and then turned to Shabina.

"Have you ever seen a smaller penis than this?" She asked, making me squirm in shame. My disgrace was amplified as Shabina burst out laughing.

"Oh, no." Shabina replied, walking in closer, until both of them pressed against me. "I don't think it's even fit to be called a penis. It's a weenie."

Rubina let go of my member. Laughing, Shabina now took my member in her hand, gently kneading my balls, and stroking me softly, while watching my reaction.

"He won't cum in my hands, will he?" She asked Rubina.

"Oh, no." Rubina replied confidently. "We got him well trained. And if he does, baba knows what to expect."

Shabina continued to stroke me. My cock was now painfully throbbing, aware that it was being excited, but also full of pee.

"Is that as hard as you get?" Shabina asked me. This was a lady who used to stutter if I ever addressed her, and who never spoke to me unless I spoke to her first. And here she was, stroking me and asking me derogatively if I was completely hard.

"Yes, Sh... er, yes apu." I answered.

"Baba, let me tell you something." Shabina wrapped her fingers around my shaft and gently fondled me to and fro. "Do you know what your weenie is good for?"

I didn't know the answer, so I remained silent.

"It's only good for peeing, baba. It can never satisfy a real woman."

"I ... I ... yes, apu. You are right of course, apu."

"Say it." Rubina commanded, watching in amusement as Shabina moved on to caress my balls. "Say, 'I will never satisfy a real woman with my peepee.' Say it!"

"Yes, choto bua. I will never satisfy a real woman with my peepee."

"You will never be able to fuck your wife properly." Rubina told me. "She will never be satisfied with your weenie."

"Yes, choto bua." The words made me cringe with embarrassment. "I will never f... never gratify my wife properly."

"You will always be a cuckold, baba."

Shabina now let go of my cock, walked around to face me and crossed her arms.

"Is it true, as Rubina told me, that you were ogling me the other day when I was delivering my wares here? I heard you were staring at my ass when I was bending down to put down the packages?"

The question hit me like a thunderbolt out of the blue. l looked at her, in the futile hope that she was bluffing, or fishing for an answer, but one look at her steely eyes and I knew that she knew. Rashida, or more likely Rubina, had told her.

"Er, yes, apu. I am so sorry, apu."

Shabina reached out and held my chin with her hand. And then, very quickly, she moved her hand.

SLAP!

Shabina had slapped me!

"Why, baba? Why were you ogling my ass?"

SLAP!

"I ... I ..."

My mind was in a whirl. For the first time, a lady other than Rashida or Rubina had slapped me.

SLAP!

"I don't like being ogled by the likes of sissies like you."

SLAP!

"I am so sorry, apu. Please, please forgive me. It will never happen again."

SLAP!

"I am so sorry, apu. Please, slap me again."

Rubina now took over.

"Baba, turn around," Rubina commanded me. "Face the wall."

"Yes, choto bua."

My back to the women, they continued to discuss my case as if I wasn't even there.

"He has some gall, eyeing me up." Shabina told Rubina. "If only my boyfriend Rupok knew, he would beat baba up. Rupok is a real man, unlike baba here."

"Why don't you tell Rupok?" Rubina egged her.

Shabina shook her head. "I don't think it's worth it. Besides, it's not like baba's any threat. I just slapped him. I, a lowly woman who sells vegetables door to door, slapped him - the son of the most powerful businessman in the city. And what does he do? He cries for forgiveness, and yet his dick is erect, hoping to be slapped again!"

They laughed, as I listened on in awkward mortification.

"And did you see the size of the nunu? Boy, he is like a baby compared to my Rupok."

Nunu was the Bengali word for penis, and the two ladies continued to discuss the sizes of the cocks of various men from the help and other servants who apparently were all giants compared to me. Shabina giggled and said in addition to her boyfriend, she also had sex with our driver Sultan, and Rubina agreed that Sultan had one humongous dick.

"Sultan and I did it once, in the garden." Rubina confessed to Shabina. "I swear he was as big as this ..." She raised her hands apart for effect. "I couldn't feel the insides of my vagina for days."

"Wow." Shabina exclaimed. "I know Ramu's big too, have you ever had Ramu?" She was talking about the milkman. "He's hung like a horse. I tried taking him all in my mouth once, and he just oozed and oozed gallons of cum."

I was then called once again to turn around and stand in front of them.

"This is why," Rubina told me, as she reached out and grabbed hold of my now flaccid penis again. "You will never fuck us. You will serve us."

"Yes, choto bua." I squirmed as she squeezed my balls. "I am your servant. Your kutti. Your slave. Your toilet."

Rubina let go of my genitals and snapped her fingers, and in a trice I was prostrate on the floor, on my knees, my bum in the air, and my lips planting wet kisses on her toes. Then she hauled me up by the ear and turned me around to face Shabina.

"If I ever catch you ogling me again," My vegetable lady warned me, "You will get a much more severe beating from me. You are a weak girl boy with a bangle on your hand."

"Yes, apu."

Rubina then pulled my ear and turned me towards her, and slapped me a final few times (while I pathetically asked her for more). She then told me, "OK, we are done here. You now have my permission to go to the washroom to pee and freshen up."

"Yes, choto bua. Thank you, choto bua. Take care, apu. Thank you for punishing me, my mistresses."

I turned around to head for my washroom.

"Where do you think you are going?"

A sharp pull to my ear stopped me in my tracks. Rubina then gave me a painful ear twist for a few minutes, reprimanding me for heading towards my washroom.

"You are now a servant of the servants, a maid of the maids. Your place is now the maids' washroom."

"Yes, choto bua. I am sorry, choto bua."

My status as a maidservant of my housemaids was now solidified. I tamely headed to the maids' washroom. It was morning, I had yet to pee, and I had just run into only one of my maids - and already I had been spanked, slapped and my ears were red. The day was just beginning.

* * *

Rashida, our older maid, was brushing her teeth in the maids' washroom. I had to walk all the way across to the servants' quarters (I was of course quite familiar with the way since I had to take it often to go to Rashida's room for my punishments), before going all the way to the end of the hall. The maids' washroom had a peculiar stink to it - and it wasn't as clean or gleaming as the regular bathrooms in our house. The door was open, and I could hear the water run in the sink. I peered in and could see Rashida with a toothbrush in her hand.

She was just rinsing her mouth and spitting out into the sink. Oh, how I wish she would spit into my mouth! Little did I know soon this wish would also be true! As soon as that thought came into my head I shook my head in disgust. Why was I so enamored with Rashida?

"What do you want, baba?" She gently asked me. I told her I had to pee and then freshen up, and choto bua had said I was to use this washroom.

"She's right, of course." Rashida was rinsing her mouth again. "So you just have to pee now, baba? You don't need to do No. 2? You don't need to go potty?"

"No, bua." There I was, naked from the waist down, with a hard on, and cheeks fresh from being slapped by the younger maid as well as a vegetable lady, and here I was discussing my bathroom needs with my older maid. "I just need to pee."

"Come on in, then."

"Oh..." I paused. "But, bua, you are still ..." I left my sentence trailing.

"That's OK." Rashida smiled at me. "You just have to pee, right. Come on in."

Seeing me still rooted to the spot, Rashida added a little anger in her next statement.

"That wasn't a suggestion, baba. That was an order. You are a dog, a bitch. And dogs don't get any privacy."

"Of course, bua. I am your kutti."

I didn't know it then, but my failure to obey this command of hers immediately was my first mistake of the day, for which I would be punished later that night.

I walked over to the commode and sat down. Rashida was now brushing her hair with an old hairbrush. She was fully dressed, of course, and looked very motherly, as always. Her long hair was flowing loose and reached her hips, her sari was worn around her big body, and left her big waist and navel exposed, and the pallu was clipped to the top of her shoulder. Her blouse struggled to contain her humongous melons. Rashida, my maid, my mistress, stopped brushing her hair and looked at me.

"Pee." She ordered.

I began to urinate. Like the trained dog that I was, I complied with her order. It had been some time since I had woken up, and my bladder had been near bursting. The urine hit the inner walls of the commode with a vengeance.

I cannot tell you how good it felt to relieve myself in front of Rashida. Gone were any notions of decency or shame I once had. It is an enormous sense of liberation, yes, liberation, that you can pee in front of another person, a woman to whom you have willingly surrendered yourself to. Other than a T-shirt, I was naked, urinating, completely vulnerable; yet I felt a sense of comfort, a security that can only be felt when you submit yourself completely to your beloved. Rashida had me at her mercy and yet I trusted her. I would do anything for her. When she told me to take a piss, I didn't even hesitate. Out came the golden shower, and out went my masculinity. I was her bitch.

At that moment, the only thing I could feel was how completely I was under her power, and how I loved it. I loved the fact that she was making all decisions for me, and I didn't have to think. It was, as I said, liberating. I love Rashida, and in my heart I had already given her my taan (body), maan (spirit), and dhaan (wealth).

When I was done, I cleaned myself with some water and tissue. Rashida had by this time stepped away from the sink and was drying her hands on a towel. I then realized my own toothbrush was in my washroom.

"Bua," I told her deferentially. "My toothbrush is in my own washroom. Should I use one of yours?"

Note that I didn't ask for permission to use one of theirs. I asked if the idea of me brushing my teeth with their toothbrushes was actually acceptable. You see, I was a mere slave, and these were my goddesses, so maybe I shouldn't even be thinking of using their toothbrushes.

"Yes, go ahead." Rashida lovingly replied. "You will be using our toothbrushes from now."

I looked at the toothbrushes on the sink. They were kind of old, with the bristles now no longer firm. One was red, the other was blue.

"Bua," I again turned to Rashida. "Which one is yours? May I be permitted to use yours?"

I saw Rashida smile. She then leaned into the sink, opened the faucet and cupped her hands. Taking a handful of water, she swished it around inside her mouth. Bending a finger, she beckoned me to come closer and stand in front of her.

Then she spit out the water into my face. I stood there, basking in ecstasy as the water, mixed with her saliva, hit my face. She repeated the action thrice, drenching me.

"Take off your t-shirt." She ordered. I complied. I was now fully naked. Rashida threw the T-shirt into one corner of the washroom, along with other dirty clothes.

Then she snapped her fingers.

For the second time that morning I was on my knees, prostrate with my bare naked bum in the air. My hands were on the wet slimy floor of the maids' washroom, my face was at my maid's feet, and I was kissing Rashida's toes and ankles. I remained in that abject posture, planting wet and slimy kisses on her feet, until Rashida told me to raise my head, but remain kneeling.