Indian Femdom Story Ch. 06

When Sundar had freshly sent his 3-month "taking care" proposal and then the link to the interview with a UK dominatrix, Vaishnavi and I had browsed the Internet voraciously with a view to better understand contemporary masochism so that we got a clearer picture of what we were getting into. We eventually broke it down into three aspects: humiliation, financial domination, and physical pain.

And while making Sundar's task list last evening, Vaishnavi realized that while Sundar would have ample opportunity to demonstrate (and to a degree already had) his proclivity for humiliation and findom, his ability to handle physical pain for us was yet untested. After putting in some ten minutes of thought, I had come up with the "Five minutes for Akshata" idea.

Our lunches arrived and with it came the all-too-familiar butterflies behind my navel. Sundar placed the two platefuls of delicious food on the charpuoy and left us to hurry back with glasses of water. He placed them close to the plates, knelt some distance away, and looked up at me on the sofa. Then, in a clear reference to the last pending task, he said to me, "I can give you far more than just 5 minutes, Miss."

That did it for me. Those words and his sweet, sweat-stained face looking up at me -- it was too much! Guilt came gushing out and I forgot all about being a dominatrix. Every cell inside me wanted to take Sundar in my arms and comfort him and tell him this was all a mistake and we didn't want a single Rupee of his. I flew out of the sofa, ignoring Vaishnavi's shrill "No, Akshata!", and was almost on top of Sundar, ready to pick him up off the floor in my arms, when his face did something I would remember for years and years afterwards. The purest disgust showed on his face. He looked at me like I was a leper that had showed up at his wedding.

In a fraction of a second, he recovered his poise and put the mask of subservience back on, but he had done irreparable damage to my opinion of him. As Vaishnavi dragged me slowly back to my seat, I wondered why Sundar couldn't understand that I was the only one in this home who would genuinely care what happened to him in these 3 months. And his attitude was to put his sexual gratification above my feelings for him. Vaishnavi's words from this morning floated back into my mind, as if on cue, "He doesn't want your concern, he doesn't want your love, Akshu. Please get that in your head!"

So be it, I determined. What was it that he had said: "I can give you far more than just 5 minutes"? I was going to take him up on that offer.

"Come here, Sundar," I said, pointing to the floor directly in front of my single-person sofa. He quickly obeyed. Maybe he realized the gravity of what he had just done and was eager to make amends. Whatever it was, I didn't care and I was fully supportive of Vaishnavi and Namrata's brand of female domination right now.

"To be accepted as our SLAVE," I stressed on the word, as it was the first time I was using it for him, "you have to show you are good with handling humiliation from us, can keep up with our financial demands, and can handle physical pain. You've done okay with the first two, but now it is time for pain." The widening of the eyes and the shaky Adam's apple was a delight to my eyes. I continued, "Initially, we had planned for 5 minutes, but in your wisdom you've increased it to 10 minutes. Since I'm in such a good mood, I will allow it. This is what you have to do."

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Namrata had entered the hall, Sundar's phone in hand. It was just past 2 PM. I continued to Sundar, "Lie on your belly on the floor; now place the back of your hands on the floor, palms facing the ceiling." Sundar promptly obeyed. His upturned palms were inches away from the two front legs of the sofa I was sitting on.

I got up from my seat and, on cue, the key to his chastity device clinked gently against the anklet. Gauging from the small shiver that ran down his body, I surmised that he had gotten an inkling of what "Five minutes for Akshata" actually meant.

"Now lift the sofa's front legs and place them on your palms. I usually take a full 10 minutes to finish my lunch..."

This time, his whole body shook. Our floor was not carpeted; it was tiled and provided no give. Although our single-person sofas were comfortably cushioned, they were no-nonsense affairs with no extra wood, which meant that each of the 4 legs tapered to less than an inch in diameter at the points they touched the tiled floor. He knew how painful it was going to be to bear my weight through those two merciless wooden legs, so he did not immediately obey my command to put his palms under them. Then, after a few seconds, his head steadied as he looked at the tiny key on my left ankle. He seemed to draw strength from it. He drew strength from his having sacrificed all his power. Masochists's minds worked in strange ways. But I was losing patience.

"Do it now or never come here again, sicko. Can't you suffer for me for just 10 minutes? I thought you wanted this for 3 months!"

He looked up at me one last time and kissed my left foot tenderly. He then drew a kerchief from a trouser pocket, balled it up, and stuffed it into his mouth before putting the front legs of the sofa on his palms in one smooth motion.

Without waiting on ceremony, I picked up my lunch, glad that it was still warm to the touch, and plonked back on my sofa. I unhurriedly adjusted myself on the seat and folded my legs under me in Padmasana, the lotus position -- I always ate in the lotus position, something I had picked up when I was a child. I didn't mind the gravy aloo-gobi, but the paneer bhurji and dal fry were favourites of mine. I wondered whether my ex-Manager below me knew this about me. I picked up the thin slice of lemon he'd placed on the side of the plate and spiked my bhajis with a few drops.

One of the three rotis on my plate was gone when the first muffled wail could be heard from below. It didn't sound human, but the anguish was plain to all 3 of us. I ignored it, much to the admiration of Vaishnavi. Namrata had joined us and we were discussing when Ayushi and Komal would be back home. Namrata was saying she had been to the kitchen and that it looked brand new. We were all eager to know Ayushi's opinion.

By the end of another minute, Sundar's body had begun shaking uncontrollably. I still ignored him. I was in no mood to let up.

Once the second roti was gone, I was thirsty. Sundar was in quite a state by then. The muffled wails and deep-throated moans were one thing, but the shaking now resembled epileptic convulsions and they looked involuntary. I wondered whether he was still capable of obeying me.

"Silence," I said softly, "and stop moving." His obedience was absolute. All sounds and movements stopped dead, except maybe where the wooden legs of the sofa were digging into his flesh, where I still saw some shivering. I exchanged a look with Vaishnavi, winked, and mouthed, "watch this."

I got up off my seat (making Sundar think that the 10 minutes were up), grabbed the glass of water from the charpuoy, and this time jumped heavily back on to the sofa. All three of us girls heard something crack and then break, which was followed by the longest and most painful bellow of pain we had ever heard. At the absolute height of this painful muffled cry, a mere second before he lost consciousness, we heard the three words that we would come to love and cherish over the next few years:

"THANK YOU, MISS!!"