Indian Social Worker and the Bully Ch. 01

"You did a great job today, Shikha."

"Thank you, Anil." I smiled. "What about the husband? Can you contact the truck company, find out where he is and get him arrested?"

Anil grimaced and paused.

"I'm sorry, Shikha. I know how much this case means to you. And so I have done all that I could. But it takes a lot of resources to carry out an arrest in another state. If it were up to me, I would have made it happen. But there's a whole machinery in place that has to move to make it happen. And frankly, a guy with an otherwise clean record, and wanted only for beating his wife doesn't rank high enough in the priority list."

"I understand." I said, feeling a little sad.

"But I have made arrangements to have him arrested as soon as he gets to Delhi. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you, Anil. I appreciate all your help."

There was a spring in my step for the next couple of days. Even my colleagues noticed it and a lot of them congratulated me as word of my extra efforts in the Parvati case spread. I got a letter from the relocation team saying that Parvati and her daughters had been put up in a small house and she had already found a job. It had no details about where she was, as per protocol, but it felt good to know that she was okay and away from her psychotic husband.

And then the following week, I got more great news.

"ANUP!! I GOT INTO STANFORD!!" I yelled as soon as he answered the phone.

"Whoa! Congratulations!!" he said in the middle of his meeting.

Stanford was my dream school, not only because it was the best social psychology department for my research interests, but also because it was in the San Francisco Bay area, where Anup's job was. In a little over eight months, I would be with my husband in San Francisco, getting a PhD at my dream school. Life could not get any better.

After talking to Anup, I whatsapp-ed all my close friends and cousins to break the news. They were delighted. And in a matter of minutes, plans had been made to celebrate this triumph. Dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by drinks at the hottest new pub in town.

"It's so foggy, yaar." one of the friends on our whatsapp group said.

"Fuck fog! It's not everyday that one of us gets into a dream university! We have to celebrate!" another friend said.

And celebrate we did. I dressed up nicely, something I rarely got to do in my day job. And my friends picked me up and whisked me away for a night of revelry. Rich foods, followed by a long sequence of toasts and tequila shots. I was happier than I had ever been. I only wished Anuj could've been there with me.

"Damn...in your colony it is...verrrrry froggy." a friend I was leaning against said.

"Froggy?" I asked and giggled. We were all quite drunk.

"Foggy...you know what I mean."

We giggled as the Uber slowed down in front of the house I was currently staying in.

"Okay Shikha...that's your stop." my friend Piyush said. "Should I door you to your drop?"

"Haha...it's okay." I said. "Door me to my drop? You sound more drunk than me. I'll manage. Thank you again, guys. Love you."

"Love you too, Shikha. Congratulations. Don't forget us when you become a hot shot Stanford grad!"

I got out of the car and found my balance on the high heels with some trouble. I was drunk but not pass-out drunk. I blinked as my eyes got used to the dark outdoors. It really was foggy, even by Delhi winter standards. From the gate, I couldn't even see the door of the house 50 feet away. I opened the gate of the house and walking with great concentration, made my way up the walkway. It seemed like a struggle to even reach the door. That's when my phone rang.

"Hi darling!" I said, slurring.

"Haha, you sound so drunk." Anup said.

"Well I am drrrrrunk." I giggled.

"Congrats again, honey. You wanna skype for a bit?" he asked.

"Hmm...I'd love to, but I am really tired and drunk. I think I am gonna just get inside the house, drop on the couch, and fall asleep."

"Okay. Send me a text when you wake up and we'll talk."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you too."

I disconnected the phone and walked up to the door. Standing against the door for support, I opened my purse. It took me a while to find the keys in my purse. My head was still swimming a little from the drinks. I tried to put the key in the lock but my shaking hand kept slipping.

That's when a figure stepped forward from the fog.

"Need some help, memsaab?"

"Wh-who?" The voice seemed vaguely familiar. Was it one of the neighbors? Or maybe the colony security guard?

"Don't you recognize me?" the man whispered menacingly.

I blinked and stared at the short wiry figure in front of me. Who was this man? He looked familiar.

"I am the man whose life you have ruined." he said angrily, and then moved swiftly to grab me.

It was Lallan! Parvati's husband! He was standing right next to me, looking very angry, just as I was alone in front of my house drunk on a foggy night! My heart sank.

I tried to yell and call for help. But I couldn't.

Lallan pressed one hand firmly on my mouth muffling my sounds of protests and with the other pulled my hair really hard. My purse and phone dropped from my hands as I waved them trying to fight him off. If I were sober, I would have been able to. I am 5 ft 8 and have an average built. I was six inches taller than him and probably weighed more too. But with half a dozen drinks in my system, I wasn't exactly well coordinated. And although short and thin, he had a really strong grip. He kept muffling any sounds from my mouth and pushed me against the door even harder.

I tried to kick him, especially aiming for his crotch. But the high heels made me lose my footing and I almost fell down. He kept his grip on my hair and mouth and bent down as my legs gave way, all the while muttering obscenities,

"You arrogant two-faced bitch...you make my wife leave me because I drink and now you are traipsing around town getting drunk..."

Finally my flailing hands made an impact. My palm landed right on his face resulting in a loud resounding slap. He was stunned for a moment by how hard I slapped him. But then I saw rage flash in his eyes as he took his hand off my mouth and responded in kind. He slapped me very hard back-handed across my right cheek. The force of that slap made my face sting and brought even more tears to my eyes. I was stunned for a couple of seconds.

"HELP!! HELP!!" I shouted, taking advantage of my mouth now being open. Hopefully one of the neighbors would hear me. But he immediately put his hand on it again. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gagged me with it. I guessed I wasn't the first person he had gagged because he did it with expertise. Shoving the rolled up fabric into my mouth and then with two fingers, pushing it all the way in so it pressed down on my tongue and against my tonsils, cutting down the air supply to my mouth. I tried to dislodge the gag with my tongue, but to no avail. My nose was now the only source of oxygen.

He then grabbed both my hands by the wrists and held them behind my back. Squatting behind me, he reached towards the keys that had fallen on the ground when he lunged at me. Still struggling, I heard him put the key in the lock and turn it. Our combined weights against the door made it open instantly. He still had both my hands in a tight grip and using my wrists, he pulled me into the house. I had left the lights on, knowing I would be drunk getting home. I had no idea this would unwittingly make his vile task easier.

I heard the door slam shut behind us. I was flailing and kicking with my legs, but all it was making me do was rotate around on my butt helplessly.

"Stand up!" he whispered pulling my arms up painfully behind my back. My heels slipped a couple of times as I tried to get on my feet, not to obey him, but thinking that standing up, I might be able to fight him off. But I wasn't able to. Much of my motor skills were being expended in staying in balance on the heels. I still struggled hard, hoping to catch him off guard for even one second.

"Umggghhhh!" I groaned as he pulled me closer and punched me hard in the side. That made me lose my breath.

"Stop fighting or I will punch you in the chest and crack your ribs." he said, pushing me around. And then punched me again. Even as I was struggling for my own survival, I could not help but this of how he must have assaulted Parvati like this.

I was still trying to wrestle my arms free. It did not seem to be working.

"Nice big house you live in, you rich bitch. Living in these nice houses and then breaking up the homes of us poor people? Don't you have any shame?" he said angrily.

Suddenly I felt his grip on my wrists loosen. I swerved around and swung my hand to hit him. But he easily ducked out of the way. And then he balled his hand into a fist and punched me in my stomach hard. That made me double over in pain and brought more tears to my eyes. He grabbed one wrist again and started pulling me towards the seating area. Even as he dragged me, I landed a couple of kicks on his shins, but it didn't stop him.

"Move, you fat cow, unless you want to me turn you into a cripple!" he whispered ominously in my ear as I stumbled towards a couch. I was still trying to fight him off, but by now exhaustion from the struggle had crept in, adding to my already dulled motor controls because of all the drinks. My resistance was having very little effect on him. He finally dragged me towards the back of a couch and held me against it, the edge of the backrest digging sharply into my stomach. he pulled my wrists behind my back again. I was still trying to kick at him with whatever strength I had left, but by now he had figured out the angles to avoid them.

"I can smell how drunk you are, you whore." Lallan said a little breathlessly as he reached for the decorative throw resting on the top of the couch backrest. It rubbed against my stomach as he pulled it off. "And yet you are fighting like a feisty cat."

I felt his grip on my wrists loosen but only momentarily. Before I could react and bring my arms forward, I felt the fabric being tightened around my wrists. It hurt as he knotted it really hard twice, and tied up my hands. I tried to move them but soon they were affixed against my lower back.

"Will you fucking stop this nonsense with your legs?" he said in an irritated tone of voice and kicked me really hard on my right knee. More tears sprang forth.

As the kick made me pause my struggles, he grabbed my hair and pushed my body forward. The roots of my hair hurt as he dragged my head forward and then down until my face was touching the seat of the couch. He put the other hand in the front of my thighs and pushed them up. Soon my left cheek was on the seat of the couch, my torso was resting against the front of the backrest and my hips were on the top of the backrest. My legs were in the air and I tried to put them back on the floor, but my weight towards the front made it difficult with my hands tied.

Soon I was motionless, slung over the couch backrest like a foldable piece of cardboard. All I could see was the side of the couch through my watery eyes. I had tried kicking my way out of that position, but it was futile.

Lallan let me go once he was sure I couldn't free myself from that position. It seemed like an eternity since his hands were not touching my body, although it had been just a couple of minutes. There was silence for a few moments, disturbed only by heavy breathing from the two of us. The way my face was turned, I couldn't see him. But I could smell his sweat. My tears soon formed a small pool under my cheek.

"Damn, that's one fine ass." he said and then I felt a hard spank land on my butt. It stung even through my skirt and my panties. "I am sure lots of dicks have gone up it, huh, you arrogant slut? Breaking up families while you whore around?" Another hard spank. I tried to shake my head in refusal.

"Oh, the bitch wants to say something?"

He moved to the side of the couch and lowered his face so we were looking into each other's eyes. He then slapped my upturned cheek lightly.

"I want to hear you speak too. So let's make a deal." With his left hand, he grabbed my left pinky resting against my lower back and pulled it back. "I will take the gag out. Just so we can have a civilized conversation. But you try to scream...and..." he pulled the pinky back even more making me wince in some pain, "...and I will snap your finger off and REALLY give you something to scream about. Understood?"

I nodded the best I could.

Lallan held my pinky between his left thumb and forefinger, stretched backwards and ready to snap. With his right hand, he pulled the handkerchief gagging my mouth. I inhaled loudly through my mouth, feeling a sense of relief. For a moment, I considered yelling for help, but I could feel the pressure of his fingers on my pinky. I knew he was demented enough to break it.

I decided instead to appeal to his conscience and sense of personal well-being.

"Lallan!" I said gasping for breath, "Have you gone mad? Let me go and stop all this before...OWWW"

He had pulled me finger to the very edge of snapping the bone, but just held back.

"Before what, you rich arrogant bitch? What do I have to lose? You have already taken away from me what I really care about - my family."

"Lallan, be reasonable. I didn't take anything from you. You are the one who mistreated your wife. I was only looking out for her. I was helping her!"

"Looking out for her? Helping her?" He brought his face right next to mine and hissed. "So that's how you do it? By breaking up a family?"

"Lallan, just...just untie me and we can talk about this." I said, trying to sound reasonable. "Let's talk about your problems before you do something you regret."

"Do something I regret? Oh that's rich!" he got up and moved out of my sight.

I struggled around to get myself off the couch, but it didn't work. I heard the sound of metallic clangs coming from the direction of the kitchen. Lallan was going through my utensils. A couple of minutes later, the sounds stopped. I heard his footsteps as he walked towards me again.

"You see this, bitch?" the blade of my sharpest kitchen knife was waved in front of my eyes. "Do I need to spell it out?"

I just whimpered in fear. Lallan poked at my neck with the tip of the knife, making it hurt without breaking the skin. The threat was enough to make me stop moving altogether. He then traced a circle moving the tip of the knife until it was behind my neck. And then there was a sound of a metallic rip as he cut the back of my top. He put the knife next to my face and then ripped my top behind my back until the rip went under my tied hands and all the way to the hemline. He picked up the knife again and swiftly sliced the sleeves too. Within seconds, my top was in pieces that he had pulled away.

Now only a bra covered my body from waist upwards.

"Lallan...please..." I finally mustered the courage to speak again, although my voice was barely audible "...please let me go. I beg you."

He only uttered a derisive snort in response. He put the knife next to me again. Then I felt his teeth biting parts of my bare back all over as his body clung to mine.

"OUCH! That hurts!" I cried out in response to a particularly hard bite on my shoulder.

"It's supposed to hurt, you bitch!!" Lallan said and slapped my cheek hard.

For the next couple of minutes, Lallan continued to bite and slobber all over my back. His crotch was slowly humping my body and I could feel an erection forming in his pants as it thrashed against my thighs. I was just sobbing throughout. I had never been manhandled in my entire life. This was a completely new experience. Finally, i just gave up and lay there motionless except for my sobs and wheezes, praying that all this was just a nightmare.

After most of my back was covered with a sheen of his saliva, Lallan stood up. He picked up the knife again. I felt its cold blade against my lower back as he slid the tip into my skirt and pulled. The sharp edge sliced through the fabric easily and he pulled it all the way down, cutting my skirt down the back. The front of the skirt brushed against my thighs as he pulled it away and threw it on the floor.

I was now propped up on the backrest of my couch wearing just my bra and thong panties. I usually didn't like wearing thongs. But that night, I was wearing a nice tight skirt, so I thought a thong would be better to avoid panty lines. Little did I know that it would mean even more humiliation as this bully forced himself on me.

I closed my eyes and hoped against hope that somehow Lallan would change his mind and let me go. But that was not to be.

"Look at these undies!" Lallan said and ran his fingers over my bare butt cheeks visible because of my thong. "What is the point of even wearing them? There's hardly any fabric! Your whole ass is on display."

And then he spanked my ass a couple of times.

"Tell me, memsaab, what is the point of wearing these?"

I was in neither the mental state nor did I have the willingness to explain to him that thongs are worn under tight skirts to avoid panty lines. Not that he was expecting an answer from me anyway. He grabbed the back of my thong with one hand and pulled it down until it felt down from around my suspended ankles.

"Mmmmm...nice shapely round milky white ass!"

He stood still for a few seconds just admiring my naked ass. I shut my eyes even tighter, trying to fight off the image of what he must be seeing. I was now naked except for my bra, suspended over the back of the couch, at the mercy of this two bit bully. My legs were hanging in the air, parted in the thighs. I doubt I had ever been in a more humiliating position in my life.

"Let's take a look at that cunt!" Lallan said and threw the knife on the floor, making a clanging sound. Then he put the fingers of both his hands inside my butt crack and parted my butt cheeks.

I instinctively clenched.

He didn't like that. He started spanking the fleshiest parts of my ass cheeks hard and then planted a couple of hard slaps on my pussy. I was yelping in pain as he rained more slaps on my most delicate parts a few more times until I coaxed my body into not resisting anymore.

"That's better!" Lallan said and ran his coarse fingers all over my ass and my pussy. I was feeling humiliated at how he was violating me. The tears were still flowing and my mouth had settled on a sad whiny sob. Lallan finally tried to insert a finger inside my vagina.

"What the hell, slut? You're as dry as an old hag!"

As if to confirm, Lallan thrust his hips forward and his thick moist dick touched the inside of my thighs. With his hands, he positioned it to enter me, but it wouldn't go in. He tried to force it in and I wailed out in pain.

Lallan grabbed my hair and pulled me back. My feet finally touched the floor as my stomach slid off the couch. He turned me around to face him. I looked down into his bloodshot eyes. His face wore an expression of rage. He slapped me hard a couple more times and yelled,

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO DRY???"

Part of me wanted to scream out - of course I am dry, you sick son of a bitch. You are trying to rape me! But as he slapped me a few more times, all I could say was..

"I'm...I'm sorryyy..."

"You're not getting away with just a dry cunt!"

And Lallan pushed me to the floor. He made me lie down on my back, my tied arms between my back and my floor. He then pulled both my legs up by my ankles and with his right foot, pushed my shoulder until my ass was resting against the back of the couch. He then pushed my legs down so my knees were pressing against my shoulder and my feet were on the floor above my head. If I thought that earlier position was humiliating, this was even worse, my body twisted like a pretzel.