A Tryst with Tyranny Ch. 01

Maid servants.

Now why would any wife in her right mind leave them and the husband behind? Alone, at home, while they cavort away to do god knows what (probably shopping).

It is as if a wife wishes to test her husband; in all his flaws, or does it reflect rather on her ambiguous opinion of the lowly house-maid?

Ramlal had a dusky maid servant, all wrapped up in a saree. In her mid thirties, a mother of two and hard working; a bread earning, stolid member of society.

He has watched her through veiled eyes; scrubbing away at the floor, her ample behind rotating endlessly in seemingly hypnotic, yet profoundly erotic patterns. She had that kind of body that was ample and round, just bordering on the fence of plump, yet inciting desire none the less.

As I have mentioned before - 'a bread earner' and 'stolid member of society'. Add to that 'humble hardworking housewife'. And as you would imagine, Ramlal wanted to despoil her in ways unimaginable.

Now let's not get carried away. Such things never happen to Ramlal. For one, his wife is always around. He thought it beneath his stature to go chasing after the help. But he couldn't help thinking, that he owned her in some way. He did not think of her as a slave, but he earned the money that kept her family fed, and in return he felt that she owed him something back.

What it was however he could not put his finger on. At nights his hands clawed empty space, for a certain dusky figure, his mind filled with thoughts of illicit trysts that he knew could never be.

Now hold that thought. This is important and you will soon know why.

One quiet Sunday, when you could hear the leaves rustling in the wind outside, Ramlal was alone at home. His wife had bid him goodbye and had gone away to a party of females only. He was alone with his thoughts.

The door bell rang. He opened the door and was surprised to see Susheela (the maid) standing there.

"Hello Susheela," he said, in the native tongue.

"Hello sir," she answered hesitantly.

"Why are you here Susheela, on a Sunday?" Ramlal asked.

"Sir I am on leave tomorrow, so I wanted to finish up some work today. Is madam there?"

"No," he said," frowning," madam just left."

She hesitated again before replying - "Can I come in sir?"

"Of course, Susheela of course..."

He opened the door wide and invited her in. A faint stirring passed through him, as she brushed past the entrance. He was alone in the house with the naukar (servant). But being who he was he held such thoughts back.

If you watched her walk you would think that she was a proud matron, with her sashaying hips. But that was just the way the lower class walked. He had once thought that the sashaying of her hips was to his benefit.

Foolishness.

Time and maturity had taught him otherwise. But a part of him held on to his shrewd suspicions.

He followed her with his leery eyes, until that desirable behind disappeared into the kitchen. Sighing he retired to his room upstairs.

How he wished then that his life was one long porn movie. In the porn movie, he would have been eight inches into his servant by now. But reality cut through his sexual reverie, as it always does.

A while later, he was down stairs again, as he could not resist himself. He watched her work at the kitchen. Her smooth back and bare midriff caught his taut attention. He loved watching her when she didn't know she was being watched.

He would stand stock-still for long moments, staring at his fuckable servant, with aching desire.

If she were to turn then she would have seen Ramlal, in all his sexual repression. She would have seen the unrestrained desire in his eyes; she would have seen a hint of something else as well, a primal need to make his wants happen.

Alas, she did not. The servant could feel her master's eyes on her, as she had many times. But he would do nothing, she knew. It was his nature to control himself. A sly smile split her lips. She was going to use this.

She felt rather than saw her master turning away.

"Sir..." she ventured, and he turned to her.

A small bead of sweat, trailed down his temple as he turned. There was guilt in his eyes, mixed with shame, and a slowly ebbing desire. She would use all of these.

He knew he had been caught watching. His pulse quickened.

Susheela turned pleading, beseeching eyes on her master, yet smiling in her mind.

"Sir, I am ashamed to ask you this," said Susheela eyes furtively shifting to the floor.

"No, no, go ahead."

"Sir I am not able to pay my son's tuition fees in school and what my husband earns is not enough."

"Just ask madam, she will give you an advance." replied Ramlal in an off-handed way.

"Sir I have already taken money from madam."

He raised an eyebrow at this, and was blatantly ignored by the servant.

A moment of silence.

"Sir if you can just help me this once."

"'Once'? This would be the second time wouldn't it?"

Susheela looked up once more with imploring eyes.

"Madam has already told me not to give you any more money." replied Ramlal firmly.

She did not expect this tact from Ramlal.

She was wringing her hands now, desperation, apparently, making her chew on her lips. He felt a small pang of pity for the poor creature.

"Please don't repeat this Susheela," he said, handing over a crisp note.

"Thank you sir, thank you so much. Please sir, you also please don't tell madam sir." she said.

Touching the note reverently to her forehead and making a small bow, the result of which had her breasts spilling forward in her blouse, her mangalsutra (marriage necklace) angling forward seductively, from where it nestled in the crevice between her ample mounds.

Ramlal's body trembled. He wanted to take her right then and there. If he wanted to he was sure she would have no choice. But again caution won over passion.

Ramlal sent away his servant, and even as he watched her figure grow smaller with the distance, he regretted not having taken action. After all had she not just offered herself? Or were his sexually saturated thoughts mistakenly translating her every movement as some form of sexual invitation?

But the moment had passed and the master did not think on it.

A few weeks passed, and on a similar Sunday, Ramlal again found Susheela standing at his door. He grunted his surprise. True to his word he had said nothing to his wife, about his little loan.

The one thing found resolute in the lower caste is stupidity. Mix that with a little bit of greed and desperation, and you have it all laid out. There was this ever present need to somehow get the better of your betters.

Susheela felt in her uneducated mind that she had done just that. She had managed to wring some money from, Ramlal by playing the sad house-maid, who was down on her luck. She had cleverly (in her mind) manipulated her master, showing just a little bit of skin, a small smile, a flash of belly, all completely innocuous of course.

A mans desire never left him, and it took a woman to know this with certainty. She would make use of that again.

Let us understand Susheela here, she was an honest woman, a faithful wife, and a loving mother. Emboldened by her success, she innocently took too many steps forward too fast.

She fatally underestimated her master's tumult of emotions.

Here was Susheela, at her master's place with the same excuse as last time. Her timing was impeccable. His wife had just left.

Just like last time.

The same reason followed - she was on leave the next day so could she just, work today?

At the end, there was the same beseeching for money. Even the same reason! The only things that changed were her sexual innuendos.

A cold anger was spreading its tendrils through Ramlal's senses. Anger rarely brings clarity, but in Ramlal's case it did, as now the anger dispelled his desire and he thought with his brain instead of his cock.

The odd confluence of events did not escape him.

Did this woman take him for a fool? Did she really think her foolish idea would work? She obviously knew he was interested in fucking her. That much he had gleaned from her subservient bows, her pleading doe like eyes, her hinting gestures.

What further stoked his ire was the sudden realization, that she in all probability did not really desire him sexually. She was just using him to get her money.

All this was to distract and entice him. She was making adequate use of his pity. She was banking on the fact that he would never harm her or use her in some untoward way.

Beware woman. Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing.

'Ware the terrible anger of a patient man.

A slow plan was brewing in his head, unbidden. Cold justice would prevail.

As he handed her another note of money, she bowed once again. So she did not witness the carnal, baleful regard of her master's eyes.

She did not realize that by taking what he had given her, she had just handed over her body and soul to her master.

As she excited the house, his eyes fastened with frightening acuity on her swinging hips all the way to gate. He would soon control everything, even the way those hips swayed and when and how they swayed, and to whom they swayed! Such would be the extent of his retribution.

Believe it or not, these events happened yet again. But this time Ramlal was prepared. Instead of waiting for her to make her request, he handed her the money initially. If Susheela registered surprise at this she did not show it. Needless to say, again the wife was conveniently missing.

Suspicions should have spread through her thoughts like wild fire. But we tend to relax with victory and with each victory grow more placid, so it was with Susheela. She continued her work in the kitchen blissfully unaware that a trap had already been sprung around her.

She was interrupted in the midst of her work.

Ramlal watched her for a moment savoring her. There's is nothing in this world that tastes sweeter than forbidden fruit. And Ramlal was going to taste of its sweet nectar, suckle in the sweet juices, of this ripe dusky fruit.

He entered the kitchen, soundlessly closing the door behind him.

"Susheela," he said pleasantly.

She turned slowly, a bead of sweat running down her back, the kitchen being pleasantly warm.

"Sir," she said her look half respectful and half curious. Of course, she was curious. She had already gotten her money from him. So what did he want with her?

She was going to find out.

"Susheela, about the money," said Ramlal.

"Sir?"

"The money Susheela, the money."

"The money sir?" she replied dumbly, a questing look on her face.

"Yes, the money."

"I have lent you three thousand rupees in the last three months, have I not?"

"Yes sir."

"You have not paid me back."

Abject silence.

Her eyes searched the door behind him, and found it unusually locked. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. But no, why, master Ramlal must have locked the door so no one could overhear their conversation, it was for her benefit after all. Though she knew she had tricked him, the master was a benign man and he was on her side. This way, she calmed herself.

"Gods it's hot in here," muttered Ramlal.

"Come," he said gently leading Susheela by the arm a little away from the cooking stove, into a small room adjacent to it.

By his grip she knew he was not angry with her, but he had never touched her before and this gave her pause.

When she faced him again she saw nothing untoward in his features. She became calm.

This was exactly what Ramlal wanted and she was playing right into his hands.

He said nothing for many heartbeats, simply content to stand there and look at her, like a master looking upon an errant student. He also gave her the one look over, from head to toe, his eyes staring at her as if seeing through her clothes. Her faint disquiet returned.

She shifted uncomfortably from his intense scrutiny.

With sudden certainty, she realized the game was up. She had played her hand too much and the master has realized. She would have to improvise. She would have to calm his wounded ego.

Suddenly she dropped to her knees, and kowtowed before him. Her head was at his feet.

"Please sir...please sir... I am sorry sir." the quaver in her voice was rather genuine.

Sobs were wracking through her body. Tears flowed copiously to anoint Ramlal's feet. She was begging him like he was some kind of god.

Ramlal found to his surprise that he really liked the feeling of being in absolute control.

He gently grasped her under her armpits and pulled her up. She was now on her knees and her palms clasped and folded in front of her, in some silent prayer.

She was inches before him and Ramlal advanced forward till he could feel her breath on him.

"Susheela open your eyes," he said.

But she did not. Her eyes were squeezed shut and tears were poring down anyways. She could feel her master close to her. Too close.

He advanced closer.

"Look at me Susheela, look at Me." he said with a voice of command.

She did, through tear streaked eyes.

"You don't have to pay be back with money," he said amicably.

"Then how sir?" in-between sobs.

You must understand this question. The innocent and foolish servant still believed that Ramlal was punishing her in some childish way. But this particular punishment was to be anything but childish.

He placed both his hands on her shoulders; leaned down with tender weight, as if offering some blessing, feeling the rough etched patterns of her cheap blouse imprint on his palms.

"There are other ways to pay me back Susheela," he said agreeably.

At this her eyes sprang open. Terror warred with confusion on her borderline beautiful features.

He smiled and gently pushed her head towards his crotch, driving away all silly doubts from Susheela's mind as to what her dear master intended.

Aghast she pulled away, her hands pushing away his advancing thighs. She looked around desperately, but all avenues of escape, alas were barred.

But Ramlal had been expecting this; this reluctance, this resistance. A chaste wife, servant or otherwise is after all not easy to strong arm into an illicitly pleasurable situation.

"Now lets be reasonable Susheela, you have used the money I have given you yes? I can find out where and how. I will bring this matter before the local panchayat (village) leader, and you and your family; husband included will become indebted to me. I will take over your house and your land. Then you will have less than what you have now."

Interminable sobs followed. Ramlal found to his perverse pleasure that he was delighting in this. He had never been in this particular position of power before.

"But it doesn't have to be that way Susheela," he said lovingly patting her on her head, as he would a pet dog.

" You can pay me here and I will forget about what I have lent you."

"Sir... my husband sir, I am married sir, I cannot." sobbed Susheela

"You should have thought of that before you so cleverly seduced and asked me for money."

That quieted her and she considered. She had landed herself in this, she had excited her master and now he would extract his pound of her flesh (the thought sickened her).

"No one has to know Susheela, your words," he said again pressing her face into his crotch. The resistance of before was slowly fading and he was able to push her head slowly in-between his thighs as her will withered in his onslaught.

He held Susheela there; face buried in his crotch, sighing, rubbing the back of her head, enjoying himself beyond all measure.

Susheela's eyes were still closed, and he took this opportunity to undo his dhoti (he did not want her to scream).

As he stood like a king before the kneeling, crying maid, whose cursory reluctance was fast vanishing in the face of insurmountable odds, he felt an odd disquiet. This was not him. He had never done this before. Her he was besmirching the honor of some poor housemaid, all because he was angry, all because he could.

Perhaps he had done enough; she had learnt her lesson after all. She would never dare try to play games with him.

But he had wanted her for so long, now she was his to do with as he liked.

Ramlal was a business man and he could not let such an opportunity go to waste.

The forces of erection had gathered in his cock, and his undergarments were being showed aside. He ground her against him and felt himself hardening further.

He released her from his malistic grip, undid his underwear and watched it drop around his feet. He slithered free of his bindings and was unleashed.

Now he stepped close enough to Susheela that the tip of his penis scraped across her forehead, brushing past a few drops of sweat in the process.

Susheela's eyes were tightly closed as if not seeing would free her from everything that was about to commence.

Ramlal guided his penis till the thick mushroom head rested on her eyelids; first the one then the other. Then he laid the entire length and girth of his erection across her face and moved it back and forth over her nose mouth and cheeks.

Susheela could smell her master's cock caressing her face; she could smell the musky odor, as the elongated organ explored her face.

Tears spilled from her and onto the exploring cock, as shame consumed her. She had not been with anyone but her husband. And he was unimaginative enough that what she was undergoing now had never happened with her beloved.

Finally she could feel the penis hovering beside her lips. This was the thing she had dreaded the most, a thing she had known would come.

Susheela shook her head violently and refused. She tried to pull back, but a god-like grip grasped and wrenched the hair on the back of her head.

"Susheela..." a voice whispered faintly in her ear." Open your mouth Susheela or you know what will happen. You don't have a choice."

"You have to repay me fully or I will have to visit you again, the next time it will be in your own home".

This got her attention.

Extremely reluctant and drained of all hope she opened her mouth and he slid himself in.

Ramlal could feel the warm moist wetness of her lips brushing against the body of his cock, as he entered and subsequently pumped her mouth. He angled his meat sideways till he could see the bulge of his dick against her cheek.

He sighed laying the weight of his cock on the soft bed of her tongue. Ramlal could explore his every fantasy know, this woman was now nothing less than his slave existing for the sole purpose of sating his every desire. He could do things to her he never could with his wife.

He had a fetish with brushing. Don't ask why, that's why they are called fetishes; there's no reason for them!

Ramlal forced Susheela to grind her front teeth together, and used his manhood like a toothbrush.

He was enjoying himself but suddenly realized the stark absence of any participation from Susheela. This irritated him.

"Susheela," he commanded, "open your eyes".

"Sir... please sir..."

"Susheela..." he warned.

Closing her eyes had been her only protection so far, her thin flimsy veil against all that was Ramlal. Now he wanted to take even that away! Susheela realized she had made Ramlal into a monster!

Hesitantly and with great effort her eyelids fluttered open.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the warm, wet, glistening cock. She had tasted, smelled, felt, but seeing was believing, after all.

The massive girth towered in front of her face, like Babel's tower, a bastion of hardness and solidity, blue tinged veins coruscating in the faint light.

She was surprised she had been able take THAT into her mouth. Well it had been forced into her after all. That had somehow made it easier.

"I want to feel you Susheela, I want you to make me harder," crooned Ramlal, "and remember that it is because of you and for people like you that this," he swatted his hardened dick" exists."