Indian Wife in the Prison of Spring Ch. 02

-

Dutt moved first, after his dick shrank to its regular size and slipped out of his latest conquest. He rolled off Mansi, who was glad about it. He weighed almost twice what she did, and his body had put pressure on her ribs. She had been staring in the mirror at their two faces. As Dutt's face turned, she turned her own. And then she felt tears streaming out of her eyes. Hiding her face in her arms, she started crying.

Dutt saw the finely sculpted naked body of his new whore lying there on her stomach as she sobbed. He could understand why she was crying. Until recently, she had been a conventional middle class housewife, who knew nothing beyond the narrow confines of her stilted life. And now she had just had presumably the best sex of her life with an old man who was not her husband. His instinctive comment had made her realize that she was basically just a whore.

Maybe, Dutt thought, it was time to drive that point home. Until now, he had been play-acting an elaborate ruse, as if she was some special flower that he was smitten by and wanted to nurture. The foreplay and the work it had taken to get her to this point had been challenging and fun. Dutt always relished breaking down defenses of women in a careful and deliberate way. But once this major milestone was crossed, he did not want to keep putting in more work. He wanted the women to dance to his tunes. After all, he paid them well enough.

Ah yes, the payment. Patting her naked ass slowly, he got off the bed. He went to the bathroom first to quickly wash up. When he came out, Mansi was in the same position, but had pulled a blanket on top of herself. He chuckled. As if hiding her nakedness now would change anything. He listened and realized that her sobbing was a lot less intense than before. He walked to the nightstand and pulled out a small pouch. Then with it in hand, he walked to the side of the bed that Mansi was facing towards.

"Hmm...let's see." he said.

Mansi heard that and looked up, wiping tears away. He had put his shorts back on. But looking at his mostly naked body still reminded her that this was the hefty old man she had just given herself up to and cheated on her husband with. She watched, with dazed eyes, as he pulled out a thick pink stack from the pouch. And started counting.

"You were great." he said. "This is for you."

His big hairy hands reached for her small soft ones and passed as small stack of bank notes in her hand. Mansi's heart sank as she looked at the stack of thousand rupee notes. Usually the cash transfers were done to the account online. This was the first time Dutt had actually handed her money. It further drove home the point that she was basically just a whore now. Which is exactly what Dutt wanted to do. She felt another bout of tears coming on but fought back. And then she found herself counting the notes. It was fifteen thousand rupees. Much more than usual.

As Dutt watched the young housewife count the money, he knew that the last stage of her transformation to a whore was complete. He started getting dressed.

"I have a meeting to attend in Dahisar. I can drop you home on the way." he calmly said.

Mansi nodded and with some effort, got off the bed. He watched her carefully put the money in her purse before going to the bathroom.

In the fancy bathroom, Mansi cleaned herself up, and then sitting on the toilet, cried a little more. What had she done? Why had she done that? She could not deny that whatever had happened, had happened with her explicit consent. It's not like the old man forced himself on her. And whatever had happened had given her a great deal of pleasure. She had multiple orgasms. And in the end, she had made a good amount of money. So why did she feel like such a horrible person. She wallowed in self-pity, crying some more.

"Mansi, everything okay?" Dutt knocked on the door after 20 minutes.

"Yes, I'll be out in a minute." she said.

Mansi felt conscious of being completely naked even after all that she had done. So she wrapped a towel around herself before leaving the bathroom. Dutt was fully dressed by then, right down to his tie. He admired the curvaceous figure of the young housewife wrapped in a towel. He smiled as she walked around, the room, collecting her garments.

"I...I need to get dressed." she said, hinting that he should leave her to it.

"So get dressed." Dutt shrugged, checking his phone.

Mansi knew that the old man was still looking at her even though he had his phone in his hand. She felt ashamed at him watching, but had no choice as she first slipped on her panties, then put her bra on. Then the blouse, and petticoat. And then finally the sari, which she remembered he had divested her of with such little effort.

While in the lift going down to the lobby, they stood next to each other in silence. A young couple got on halfway down there. Dutt, feeling the male instinct to show off his latest conquest, gently slapped Mansi's butt over her sari. She blushed and the couple chuckled, realizing that the immaculately dressed old man was either with a mistress or a whore.

In the car, as usual, Mansi was staring out the window when she heard the sounds of a zipper. She looked at Dutt who pulled his half erect dick out of his pants.

"What are you doing?" she asked, shocked.

"Can't you guess?" he derisively said.

"Here?"

"Relax. I am not going to fuck you here."

"Oh ok." she felt relieved.

"I just want a blowjob."

"What???"

"Even you can't be innocent enough to not know what that means." he said.

"I am sorry but I don't do that." Mansi decided to put her foot down. This was too much.

"There's a lot you didn't do before that you have already done." he said, grabbing her arm.

"Please Duttsahab!" she said in a sad voice.

"I will pay you extra if you want. Now open your mouth and come here." he sternly said.

This was so weird, disgusting, and unhygienic, Mansi thought a few moments later as the old man's thick dong was in her mouth. He did not undress her. But she was on her knees on the floor of the limo between his legs sucking his dick as he gave her detailed instructions on how to do it. Occasionally he would grab her head and push his dick deep inside. It would hit the back of her throat and make her gag or cough. But he kept going.

"We are almost there, sir."

Mansi didn't even realize when the driver had lowered the partition to say this. Surely he had seen her between his boss's legs. What would he think of her?

"Thanks. We are almost done here." Dutt said, grabbing Mansi's hair harder.

The partition closed again. Mansi felt a small sense of relief that at least the driver wasn't going to keep looking. The next few minutes were tumultuous as Dutt said,

"Don't pull back. Don't fight it, Mansi. Remember, I gave you oral. Yes, good girl."

...

"You have to swallow it, Mansi. This is a nice car. We don't want to mess it up."

...

"Here, have some coke. It will wash down the taste."

...

Getting out of the car, Mansi felt like running home. But there were so many people around, it would look weird. So she calmed herself down and walked slowly. Entered the building and started climbing the stairs. Just as she reached her floor, Deshmukh aunty was sitting on the stairs outside her house sorting dal.

"Back from work already?" she said.

"Hmmm." Mansi said, keeping her lips pressed together. She had rinsed her mouth with coke but could still smell the ejaculate herself.

Deshmukh aunty crinkled her nose and said,

"What is that smell?"

But by then, Mansi had already entered her apartment and shut the door. The distraught young housewife ran to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, she stood under it with all her clothes still on. She felt the water wash over her, and willed it to wash her sins away. She opened her mouth wide and let the shower water wash her mouth thoroughly. As she started taking her clothes on, she felt something under her blouse. It was the 5000 rupees Duttsahab had given her as extra remuneration for the blowjob. In the hurry to leave the car, she had just tucked it there instead of putting it in her purse. The currency notes were soaked.

She put them on the sink and then stood under the shower again, crying.

-

As time passed, Mansi got some control over herself. The guilt and shame subsided a little, although they stayed at the back of her mind. She had deposited the money in the bank account, which again started looking healthy. And as she masturbated regularly, she found herself thinking of everything that had happened. Everything that had given her so much pleasure.

A couple of days later, Mansi was home alone doing chores when a courier delivery guy showed up at her door. She was confused, because she hadn't ordered anything. maybe it was for Amar. He frequently got textbooks this way. But the small package was addressed to her. After signing for it, she curiously opened it. There was a small note with it.

- A small gift. The next time we meet, I would like you to wear this. love, ND

She unfolded the red garment and held it up. Was he insane? A "small" gift it truly was. It was smaller than even Pinky's dresses. There was no way she could wear this in public. She would look extremely trashy, like an item girl. She was tempted to throw it away. But knowing Dutt's tastes, it was probably expensive. She would just give it back to him the next time. But she did not want to risk Pinky finding it again. So she rolled it up and put it in her purse. Again, she noted how small and revealing a dress must be to so easily fit in a purse. Maybe he didn't mean for her to wear it in public, but only in his company.

A full week passed as Mansi kept checking her phone to see if Dutt was summoning her. She felt very conflicted about her feelings. Did she want him to call her again just so she could make more money? Or was she craving more sex? And if it was about sex, what would he expect her to do next? She had felt revolted at the blowjob initially. But by the end of it, she found herself coming to terms with it. She even did some online searches to watch a few porn videos with blowjobs. In them, the women seemed to enjoy it a lot. Maybe she would too, eventually.

On Dutt's side, the delay in summoning her wasn't a tactic this time. He truly was busy with a lot of work. He longed to bang his latest conquest again. he was also keen on pushing her boundaries further. The car blowjob had been a whim. But if he planned carefully, he could lead her even more down the path and relish her body fully.

Mansi finally got a text the following week. She was overjoyed, because she was feeling horny. Even Amar hadn't tried to make love to her in recent days. She had been satisfying herself with her phone masturbation, but having gone all the way with Dutt, she craved the real thing more. With the small dress in her purse, dressed in a simple sari, she went downstairs at the designated time.

Once again, the car was empty. Once again, she was taken to a hotel. But this time, it wasn't Reena aunty's hotel. It was a different one and was in Bandra. Even posher. She stared at the decorations as she took the lift up to the room Dutt had texted her.

Mansi knocked on the door. An unfamiliar face opened the door.

"You must be Mansi." the face smiled.

"Yes."

"Please come in. Navin is on a call."

This experience was getting all too common for Mansi. She would knock on the door, and someone she didn't know would open and usher her in. She walked to the living area and sat down in her familiar old single love seat, with her purse in her hands. She saw Dutt on the phone across the room, talking busily. He absent-mindedly waved at her.

"Hot and humid, right?" the man asked as she wiped her sweat.

"Yes." she said politely, looking at him. He was an old man, roughly the same age as Duttsahab as far as she could tell. But he was short and wiry, with a thick head of hair. And he was dressed in jeans and a plain tshirt.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water, coke, juice,...whiskey?" he asked.

"Water is fine, thank you." she said.

The old man went to the fridge and fetched her a glass of water. As she drank it, he smiled, and looked at her.

"Navin will be done soon." he said. "My name is Bhaskar, by the way. You live in Mumbai?"

"Yes." she said.

"Terrible weather. Although I live in Delhi and our weather isn't a lot better. At least Mumbai doesn't have real winter." he laughed.

"That's one thing I don't miss about Meerut. The winter." she said.

"Oh, you are from Meerut? How nice."

And the small talk continued that way for a while. Weather, cities, some personal background, and so on, the way it would go for any two people meeting for the first time. Mansi was annoyed that Duttsahab had made her drop everything and rush over, but then he was busy on the phone while some random ugly old man was chatting with her. She was always polite and nice towards elders so she talked with Bhaskar for a while, occasionally glancing at Duttsahab. But as their conversation progressed, she felt a little awkward. Although Bhaskar had started off being very polite and formal, she got the feeling that he was staring at her a little to much.

Finally, Dutt's call ended. He walked over towards them.

"Hello, Mansi. I see you have met my old friend Bhaskar. He and I have been friends since our childhood." he said, sitting across from her.

"Yes, he told me." she nodded.

There was silence for a while. Bhaskar smiled at her and then at Dutt.

"I have to get going soon." Mansi said, hoping that it would be a hint that maybe Dutt should get rid of his friend so they could get on with what she was there for.

"What's the hurry?" Dutt calmly said. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, it's fine." she said trying to signal to him with a subtle facial gesture what she wanted.

"Why don't you change into that dress I sent you?" Dutt said, and she almost fell off the couch in shock.

"Now?" she said, now not even trying to hide the fact that she was hinting at Bhaskar's presence. She was surprised that he expected her to walk around in that short dress in front of his friend.

Dutt started laughing and said,

"Don't worry about Bhaskar. Like I said, he is an old friend. And besides, he knows about us. So no need to be coy."

Mansi was first shocked. Then angry. Then she looked at Bhaskar's smiling face and she felt embarrassed. What was wrong with Duttsahab, she wondered. He was going around telling people about their relationship? She had just spent almost half an hour making small talk with this man as if everything was on the up and up. And all along, he knew that she and Duttsahab had slept together? What the hell?

She was overcome with embarrassment and shame, and rushed out of the living room, her cheeks red. Both men chuckled a little at her awkward state. That made her even more angry. In the bedroom she grabbed her forehead and pondered over the situation. Duttsahab was getting a little too cavalier. Didn't he realize how weird it would be for her to be introduced like that to someone like Bhaskar? What should she do? She should just leave, she decided.

That's when Dutt walked in. He saw his mistress/whore fuming on the bed and chuckled a little. She threw him an angry look.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asked, sitting next to her.

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG??" she pretty much lost it and exploded at him. "What's the matter with you? You're going around telling people about us? Why? Don't you know how horribly embarrassing it is for me? You said this would be a discreet relationship. And now this? And you ask what's wrong?"

She said her piece and started to angrily get up. He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her down.

"Don't touch me!" she said. "I am leaving."

"Just listen..." he started speaking but she cut him off.

"Don't try to talk your way out of this. You have gone too far." she said.

"SHUT UP!!" he yelled at her louder than he ever had. Louder than anyone ever had. And she shrank back in shock.

He stared at her with flaring eyes and continued.

"Don't forget your place, Mansi. Who do you think you are?"

"Duttsahab..." she said, shocked. No one had ever screamed at her like this.

"So what if Bhaskar knows? He is my friend. He lives in Delhi. He will never talk about it. Hell, there is no chance he knows anyone else you or your pathetic husband know. So why are you acting as if I have splashed this news on the front page of the Times of India?? Why???"

Mansi had never seen him this agitated. And this assertive. She found herself unable to say anything in response.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and made her turn towards him.

"Tell me, Mansi, why have you come here today?"

"I..." she simply said, not sure how to respond.

"Tell me!" he glared at her.

What was she suppose to say? To sleep with him? To make more money? Even with all the limits she had crossed, she couldn't say that.

"Because you asked me to come here." she finally whispered.

"Hmmm, good. You came here because I asked you to come here. And now you will do what I ask you to do. So stop throwing a tantrum, and behave. Put on the dress I bought for you, and come out. Soon!"

"Why are you doing this to me?" she meekly whispered.

"I am not doing anything to you, Mansi. We both know you will benefit from this. Financially and otherwise. So stop being so stupid. And put the fucking dress on."

He almost spat out the last words and stormed out.

It was a few minutes before Mansi's heart rate returned to normal. A small part of her wanted to storm out and leave. What could he do if she left? Nothing. But once again, she found that she was almost compelled to obey him. And it wasn't just the money. There was something more. A lot more. She honestly wanted all this.

Slowly she got up and unwrapped her sari. She stepped out of the thick roll of fabric around her ankles. Then she took off her petticoat and then her blouse. She looked at herself in the mirror, clad in just bra and panties. Sighing, she reached into her purse and took out the dress. If it could fit into her purse, how much of her would it cover? She looked at the slinky red garment. It was stretchable and she was petite, but surely he had gotten the size wrong?

A minute later, she had put the dress on. She looked at herself in the mirror again as if staring at a stranger. The dress fit perfectly. That saleswoman all those months back had gauged her size to the T. As she looked at herself, she wondered what effect she would have on Dutt and even more so, on Bhaskar. The red material was clinging to her tighter than a sock. The outlines of her bra and panties were poking through. Most of her legs were on display below the dress. And above it, several inches of her cleavage. The straps were so thin that her bra straps were visible. She looked like a tart.

Why did Duttsahab want her in front of her friend like this, she wondered? Unless...wait...did he plan to share her with him? How disgusting, she cringed.

Unnerved, she started pacing around the room dressed in the skimpy outfit. Was that Duttsahab's plan? Is that why Bhaskar was there? To join in? Why would he want that? This was too much. No, she could not even risk that. She should just change back into her sari and walk out. Then a part of her said...two men together. Duttsahab's childhood friend must be as talented as him. And both of them will be focused on pleasing you. Isn't that exciting? No no, it's horrible. I can't imagine something like that.

Mansi continued pacing and debating with herself for a while longer. Finally, Dutt got impatient.

"Mansi!! Get your ass out here!!" he yelled.

"Navin!" Bhaskar whispered. "Aren't you going too far?"

"Shhh!" Dutt responded. "Just be assertive."