Model Wife to Mleccha Ch. 02

"Your top, give it to me" I gave it to him, and he bound my hands behind my back. I felt so natural, so helpless, and so very desirable as I stood topless, hands bound behind me as he sat on the edge of the bed, me standing between his legs, his hard cock pressing his shorts obscenely. He examined my 48G breasts, now fondling, then kissing, finally sucking my nipples. I moanedn, turning helplessly as his one hand held my bound two behind me. He looked at me sternly.

"You were a bad Mleccha and touched my Hindu lund. This is not your right. You have not earned it. It is understandable, you are only a mleccha slut, but you want to be a good mleccha slut don't you Jan? You want to be a worthy mlechha slut for me, don't you Jan? Perhaps even to be my own mleccha slut?" Vivek said. At each pause, he slapped one of my breasts firmly, spanking it like you spank a child. Each slap left a red mark, each pause long enough for him to appreciate the way my natural white breasts bounced when struck, and how the range of expression played across my face. Desire, fear, submission, HUNGER. He was testing me to see if I would accept being trained like an animal, like his property. He was testing it, and I was testing it with him.

Two things passed between our eyes as they locked and each slap came down, punishing but not damaging, discipline not brutality. Dominance not abuse. I felt desire wash over me from his eyes, hot and hungry, he wanted me, not just my body, but my mind, my soul, my desire, my hunger, my need/ He wanted and needed me to desire, worship, and fear him almost as much as I needed to desire, worship and obey him. Trust, oh how I felt trust flower between us, each slap on my breast I would see him weighing my reaction, moderating his force, playing my body like an instrument. Seeking to get the greatest and most pleasing reaction from it. I gave myself to his keeping as I could never give myself to my own. I trusted Vivek as I could never trust myself.

I let all control go. I was not in charge, I placed no limits on me. Vivek was master, and I was his mleccha slut. His married white slave. I was finally free, as long as he owned me.

Vivek stripped off my bottoms and ran his hands over my ass, pinching and slapping it lightly. Turning me to examine it thoroughly, he kissed each cheek, before taking my hair in his hand again and putting me over his lap like an errant child.

"Jan, you will be a good mleccha for me now won't you. You won't touch my cock until and unless Sitta or myself tells you that you can, do you understand?" His hand began to slap my ass, first one cheek then the other. After each slap, he would rub my ass cheek softly.

"Yes sir!" I swore to him "I will be a good mleccha slut for you!" I swore as he spanked my ass slowly as red as my hair. His hands lingering longer between each slap,

"Have you learned your lesson Jan? Do you want me to stop spanking you now?" Vivek asked, spanking me harder once on each cheek. I can't believe how easily the truth came out of me, but I was beyond caring, beyond shame. Submission had freed me from the lies and I would give him no less than the truth.

"Yes master, I have learned. No master, please do not stop spanking me if it pleases you!" I called him master and I meant it. I had never felt so much in control, so natural, so free. The control was not my own, the control was his, but the freedom it granted was mine. I would no more ask him to stop spanking me than I would ask him to stop desiring me, complimenting me, looking at me. I hungered for his touch, his passion, and in brutal honestly his OWNERSHIP with a purity and focus I had never found in marriage or religion.

I think the answer surprised him, but I felt his cock jump against my belly. That hard bar of teak pressed against me with an urgency that was commanded by my submission, a power I had discovered over him only by surrendering totally to him. He spanked me hard ten times, rubbing, cupping and caressing my ass, and back each time. Then his hands reached under to the hot wetness of my pussy. Sliding up and down my flowering petals, he dipped his finger inside my folds to sample my wetness, before bringing it up to his lips to taste.

"Were you a good girl Jan? Did you not cum at all while I was away?"

"Yes sir! I edged and edged but never came Vivek, I swear!" I was begging and humiliating myself before him, but the act of abasement before Vivek was suddenly not shameful, it was an offering, like a prayer before an altar. I was proud of my submission, proud of my obedience, proud of my need and helplessness before HIM, my hard Hindu master.

He grabbed me by the hair and turned me to face him, still over his lap. With his other hand he reached between my legs and began to finger my tight, long ignored pussy. I let myself revel in my helplessness. Always I had controlled my reactions, shame instilled by a strong Christian upbringing always branded a woman's sexual pleasure as being of the devil, and somehow shameful. I never felt comfortable with my body's desire and needs. It was no longer my body, it was Vivek's body, and the Hindu have no fear of sexuality. I let my body take me away as Vivek probed the need of my pussy with first one, then two fingers, as he worked me up to a panting need that had me unable to speak or think. That is when his fingers finally brushed my clit, dancing back and forth across my aching little nubbin like lightning. I came and bucked like a bronco.

We fell back across the bed, me on top of Vivek, my bound hands underneath me, pressed against his belly. One of his hands grabbed my throat, and the other worked my clit as he would not let me stop cumming. I came and came far beyond what I would or could ever allow myself. I came until the pleasure was painful, until I bit my tongue so hard it bled, until I thought I wet myself because I sprayed the bed and our thighs with my cum. His strong leg wrapped around my own and pinned my body as he literally blasted my mind from my body, showing me the masters touch. Teaching me what a mleccha was.

I passed out for a few seconds. As my body went shuddering and limp, no longer actively bucking against him, his hands rolled us over and he pulled me back against his body, spooning. My naked ass pressed against his hard bulge, still in his shorts. He made soothing noises like you would use to gentle a horse or puppy as he petted my hair and kissed my ears. He whispered, "Good girl Jan, good girl" and that is how I fell asleep.

Having had three daughters, there have been one or two side effects that don't make the "What to expect when you are expecting" books. The first is my boobs stayed G cup after my middle daughter, and the second was my bladder never let me sleep through the night.

I slipped out to the bathroom and took care of my nightly interruption. I found myself looking in the mirror. I looked different. My face was relaxed and glowing. My shoulders were lower, showing an utter lack of tension, I felt the singing along my nerves; while I was physically tired, I was so deeply at peace.

I held my hands in front of me. I looked down at my wedding ring, I looked at the hands that had won everything I had through hard work and pure will. Looking into my reflection. I raised the hand in front of me, ring to the mirror and reached for my outrage, my guilt, my shame. I looked at the mirror and looked for the model white wife I was raised to be. I saw a shadow of the me I remembered, but it was only a shadow cast over something far more real, more potent, more alive than that shadow had ever been.

Pulling my hands behind my back, thrusting my chest, with the red hand prints of my Hindu master on my breasts, the bite marks. I threw back my head and whispered "Mleccha slut."

A bashful smile crossed my face. This was me. This was the real me. I slipped back into bed with Vivek and snuggled up to him. I began to kiss down his chest. He stirred in his sleep and gathered me to him. I pressed my face to his strong dark chest and kissed my way to his nipple, then I began to suck upon it as he did upon mine. I ran my hands over his chest and toyed with his other nipple. Moving from nipple to nipple as my own breasts dragged across his stirring Hindu cock, I felt him harden as I sucked upon his nipples with a growing urgency. He came awake and stroked my hair softly.

I kissed down his belly until I was darting my tongue inside his belly button, digging out some fluff and spitting it out, only to dive back in and burrow, sucking and probing. Vivek's hard Hindu cock was hot and hard beneath my chin now, but I was forbidden to touch it.

I reached under his hip and dragged his shorts down over his bum as I held his waistband in my teeth. His cock struck my nose as I pulled his shorts down, but I didn't count that as cheating. I kissed my way down his thighs until he spread his legs and let me kiss first his right nut, and then his left.

I worked my tongue over his ball sack before opening my mouth wide to suck his balls into my mouth. I hummed as I held them in my mouth and I heard him calling my name.

"Jan, Jan, oh you hot mleccha slut." Vivek muttered. "You know you aren't allowed my Hindu cock little girl, no matter how you need it"

He was stroking it now, his hand made it look even more impressive, as it was nearly as thick as his wrist and even his larger hand found it a shaft of some length. The hood of his foreskin reminded me of a cobra's hood, awaiting the moment it strikes to inject its venom. While the king cobra's kiss brings death, the heavy Hindu balls in my mouth and that teak spear in Vivek's hands brings life. I yearned to have that life explode in my white womb, but it was forbidden me.

I sucked on his balls and caressed his ass in my hands as I saw his plumb dark head emerge from his shaft, glowing with precum as my tongue and mouth worshipped at this altar of Hindu magnificence. He was going to be a far better husband to Sitta that I was a wife, as he finally rolled onto all fours face down to pull his balls and cock away from me.

I was like a mongoose once the cobra has been sighted, for I would not give up, could not give up The blood of my own warrior ancestors demanded that I take what I desired, what I needed, even as my new found submission demanded I obey my commands. I did both.

As Vivek turned away, I gripped his strong dark ass cheeks with both hands and spread them. As I had done with his belly button, so I did with his darker back door. I sucked his asshole with my lips pressed against it, sucking and licking like it was the last candy on earth. I heard his breath catch, and growled like a she wolf as I thrust my chin deep into his muscular ass crack. My long pink tongue was thinner and lighter than Viveks broad tongue that had given me such pleasure, but mine was long and agile, and pressed in shrinking circles into his dark puckered hole.

First forming it as a spear, I drove it inside Vivek's ass. I heard his breath catch and felt him begin to work his cock in ernest. I drooled like a rottweiler as I worked my tongue into his tight back passage, first circling to relax, then darting deep to probe. I forced my tongue into his ass as his fingers had driven into me, and as I burned to feel his cock do to me.

I gasped and gulped as I licked and sucked, probed and pillaged. He strove to escape by crawling farther up the bed, but like a mongoose, I was not going to let this king of cobras escape before it struck. I followed him, cupping his heavy balls and gripping his tight ass cheek as I drove my long pink tongue into his virgin hole.

With a growl that would suit a leopard or tiger more than a man, Vivek rolled off the bed and dragged me down to kneel at his feet. His hard cock in his fist, he ordered me to put my hands down as he jerked his cock at my face.

Blue eyes looking up into his dark majestic Hindu face, I opened my mouth like a baby bird and his Kingly cobra spat its life giving venom all over my unworthy self. Hot salty cum burst upon my tongue, my neck, chest and first one, then the other breast.

I knelt at his feet, covered in his cum, hands on my thighs, baptized as his mleccha slut.

"Good girl, Jan. A true mleccha slut" Master Vivek said, and no more beautiful words have I ever heard.