Model Wife to Mleccha Ch. 03

Property or Person?

How did it come to this? My name is Jan Thomas, I am the very image of the perfect suburban wife and mother. I am just that, a wife of twenty plus years, mother of three beautiful university student daughters, high school teacher, Girl Guide leader, church volunteer. Oh, and desperate mleccha slut for my Hindu god Vivek. It should not be possible. I am a strong passionate woman, standing five seven, one hundred ninety pounds plus whatever I am fighting the battle to keep off, as my figure tends towards lush no matter how much a draconian exercise regimen that makes me think I am still in the army can do. My figure 48GG-40-46 means that gravity and breast feeding have both made inroads into the firmness of my breasts more than my self image is happy with, but the boys, and a disturbing number of girls in my classes seem to obsess over my curves enough that keeping them on topic consumes whatever time I saved by getting their attention in the first place.

I had your average marriage. My sex drive went up, and my constant war on my weight drove me to serious conditioning that only fuelled the fires of that hotter and hotter. My husband's drive cooled, as his body got softer and softer, and his interest in mine seemed to wither and die. I began to sunbathe naked on the school roof where no one could see me. I was so desperate for touch, that I began to touch myself as I did so. Vivek was the dark and broodingly handsome young IT teacher at the school. I knew, but somehow didn't think about, the fact he had the roof covered with webcams for his nature blog. He began to send me videos of me stripping and touching myself. He would give me instructions about what he would like to see. I felt, good, doing what he told me. Pleasing him.

I discovered that pleasing and obeying him was the single most important thing in my life. He became my Hindu god. My sole reason for living, not simply existing. I would do anything to please him. He was engaged to one of my favorite former students, Sitta. I was married. He set strong rules, so that we could play without breaking his oaths or stealing what was owed Sitta. Left out of it was any consideration of my husband, whom we both somehow naturally understood was no longer even a part owner of my body, or sexuality. After Vivek had been back to India for a wedding, I had grown so desperate for him that I didn't quite break the rules, but I bent them.

I did not touch his cock, nor he my pussy or breasts with his hand or cock. I did suck HIS nipples, and his asshole until he came for me, and I lapped it up like a dog in heat. Sitta had insisted on a laptop webcam to make sure we were following the rules, so she saw. I didn't know how she would take it, but I was now afraid I would lose even as much of Vivek as I had been allowed.

Sitta had been one of my special students. She was small, like a dark little song-bird. Raven black hair, dark skin, flashing eyes and a fetching gold ring in one nostril that drew your eyes every time she tossed her head to throw her wavy and unruly tresses over her shapely shoulders. She was lithe, with a tight little body, probably a B cup, and always moving, never still. She was a natural leader among the girls, opinionated and passionate, almost to a flaw. That she went on to success as a investment banker is not a surprise, she was gifted with ambition and a pride that made me think of her as a falcon, a tiny fierce insanely proud bird, forever preening and looking out at the world for something to strike. I had always had a soft spot for her, and given her a lot of help and extra attention, as she was one of those special students you will remember long after you retire, and whose success you will always use to stave off the depression from dealing with students who had potential they stubbornly refused to make anything at all out of, and ended as unnecessary failures.

Now Vivek had sent me a text, asking me if my husband was still out of town on his stupid sales convention. I responded yes, hoping he would have instructions of things I could do to please him by camera or video. What I got was a note in plain text.

Sitta is coming over. She is unhappy with your transgressions, and requires you accept proper punishment and offer her real signs that you are not a threat to our pending marriage. I suggest you make her happy, or we are done.

Done. No more Vivek.

No more of feeling my body come alive under his command, under his eyes. No more dreaming about his hands, his cock, his potent Hindu seed. Go back to being a perfect white wife, and let the mleccha slut die.

Panic filled me, the way it never had when my life was at risk. The yawning abyss of emptiness that was the world without Vivek opened up before me and I began to shake. It was no more than fifteen minutes from the text to hearing Sitta's tiny Mercedes pull up the long gravel driveway in front of my house. She honked her horn and opened her car door. I opened the door to our house, and saw Sitta standing, looking so imperious beside her car.

Her hair was the same lustrous fall of raven wing I was used to, but her makeup was perfect and gave her a glamour that suited a queen, a CEO, or movie star. Her blouse was probably worth more than my wardrobe, and her skirt was a doe soft leather that framed her shapely ass and thighs to perfection. Dark stockings drew your eyes down the curves of her shapely and never still legs as she tapped one toe in perfect open toed heels. She was pulled up with her car pointed at my picnic table, just in front of my house, beside our weeping willow tree. She looked angry as she sipped her latte and glared at me.

"I used to look up to you, Mrs Thomas. I used to admire you. A strong intelligent professional woman. I used to want to be like you. I had no idea that you were nothing but a little mleccha slut who can't keep her hands off other peoples husbands. I had no idea that you were such a desperate whore that you cannot be left running free or you will be sniffing after whatever strong Hindu man is closest, even if he belongs to someone else. I can't believe I used to be envious when I looked at you. You are not even a real person are you, just a desperate mleccha whore who cannot control her own urges. Is that right Jan? I can call you Jan right, I mean you HAD YOUR TONGUE UP MY FIANCEE'S ASS and licked his cum off the floor like a DOG!"

I flinched as she stepped in front of her car, framed between the headlights like an angry goddess. I had no defense. She was right, and I felt the shame of it, my betrayal of her, more than my betrayal of my own marriage vows. I tried to beg, tried to plead, tried to explain but she just glared at me. She walked forward and poured her latte over my blouse, I felt the burning, luckily it had been a long enough drive that it was cooler than her anger and stung rather than actually inflicted a serious burn on my breasts. She stared up into my eyes as she inflicted this punishment and saw my own widening and misting in tears with no signs of resistance. She stepped back and tugged her skirt up to mid thigh, exposing her stockings as thigh highs and pointing one beautiful foot in front of the other, one long shapely leg framed by my front porch lights and her headlights.

"If you ever want to speak to my husband to be again, you will kneel and kiss my feet."

I fell to my knees and crawled to her foot, she grabbed me by my long red hair and pulled me up to face her, she spat in my face and shouted at me.

"Not like that slut, like you were when you shamed me by using your slut tongue on my husband to be. You will kneel and kiss my feet naked, or you will never see his cock again"

Sitta was angry, and I knew my humiliation was both inevitable and deserved, so something inside me broke. I had been her mentor, her idol, and now she saw me as a threat that needed to be broken so she could feel safe with the man she loved. Clearly she took her pending marriage more seriously than my own slut nature treated my own, when confronted with a strong Hindu man,. I bean to strip.

Sitta's face changed as I did so, her anger was overcome with something like triumph. I felt like a pigeon before a preening falcon, just a large breasted meal for a beautiful and terrible predator to feast upon. She ordered me to stop, turn, and present myself as I undressed, making admiring noises before ordering me to continue. She began to speak almost casually as I began to kiss her feet, she moved my long red hair back over my shoulder so she could see (and as I later found out her dashcam could record) my face better as I kissed and sucked her toes in her open toed heels.

"You know, my brothers and I used to talk about you. Wondering how you looked under those prim little school teacher outfits. They used to jerk off thinking about you a lot. Would you be surprised to know that when I was in your class, I had a crush on you too. My proud intelligent and feminist teacher. I never had the nerve to admit I would have died for a kiss from you, and now here you are, licking my feet naked in your own driveway. I guess you were nothing but a mleccha slut all that time, and just needed to be taught your place. Isn't that right, my desperate little mleccha whore?"

As Sitta said the last she dragged me by the hair slowly from her foot to her knee, with me stroking her silky stockings and kissing my way up her dark and toned perfect leg. Looking down into my lust and shame filled eyes with her dark piercing fierce ones, she made me acknowledge in words what my deeds had already established.

"Yes Sitta, I am a mleccha slut, and need to be taught my place" I confessed, kissing and caressing her knee as she raised her skirt further to show her stocking tops and the silky dark thighs above them. Her hand was stroking my hair in a way that was both possessive and sensual and I could feel my body responding to her, both as her beauty, and her clear dominance demanded. I did not think of myself as lesbian, or even bisexual, but there was no question that those flashing Hindu eyes made my body blush and respond with frank and desperate sexual hunger the way that no while male lover had, and no woman ever suggested.

She gave me a little push with her foot, and told me to cut a willow switch for her to punish for trespassing with her man. There was a hatchet stuck into the stump that I used for chopping firewood for our stove, and I used that to hack off a willow switch about the thickness of my thumb at the base. I had never been struck with one, so didn't know if this was going to hurt a little or a lot. I just knew that obeying and pleasing Sitta was suddenly the most important thing in my life. When I gave it to her, she had me stand beneath the tree, and bound my hands with my belt above my head. Standing naked before her, I had room to move my legs, and even move from side to side as the branch I was bound to was really flexible. I was about to find out the limits of that as Sitta started in on me.

CRACIK

The first shot across my ass was like a dozen times the burn of the latte, A line of white fire slashed across my ass cheeks, and I yelped helplessly.

Sitta was in a rage. "Keep your hands off other peoples husbands. Dirty white slut. Filthy whore. You have no right to take what is mine. I thought you were a teacher, I thought you were a friend. You were nothing but a dirty whore, nothing but a mleccha slut. You don't deserve a husband, you need an OWNER, like a dog to be leashed so it doesn't tresspass just because it is in heat and lacks the discipline to control itself."

With each line, the willow switch would paint a new line of scarlet along my pale white skin as she wrote her rage and my shame for the world to see.

I spun and danced, trying to get away from the willow switch, but Sitta followed me. She seemed to enjoy making me turn and dance.

She stepped close and kissed me, hard.

She was so tiny, so fierce, so intense. She wasn't like a woman anymore, she was a goddess, and angry goddess out to punish a lesser being for her transgressions. When her mouth took mine, her tongue thrusting into mine, I felt my body press into hers. I felt my leg wrap around her as she pressed herself into me. Her hands roamed my ass, long nails scraping at my wounds, making me whimper into her mouth. She dug her fingers into my ass cheeks and I felt myself start to grind myself against her thigh. One hand went up to my hair and dragged my head back. I arched helplessly as I hung, and she looked down at my breasts as my back arching presented them to her.

She slapped one, then the other, then cupped them and pinched the nipple as it rose in embarrassing fullness to her touch. She spoke almost absently as she alternately slapped and fondled them.

"You know, half the girls swore these were fake, but I always thought they were real. I envied you your breasts you know. I know Vivek loves mine, but I have seen the way he looks at yours, how much we both get turned on when you play with them. I should hate you for it" Sitta broke off as her mouth suddenly darted down to claim my left breast, sucking my nipple into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. I couldn't help it, I moaned and begged her.

"Please Sitta, kiss my nipples, bite them, slap them, please, they are yours, YOURS!" I begged her as she sucked my nipples and her fingers darted down to my pussy, and drove home cruelly, one long finger proving that I was wet and open as any mleccha slut. She kissed up to my neck and sucked on it, leaving a deep hickey as she worked her fingers into my pussy until I began to desperately hump her hand as she laughingly would withdraw it just a little and make me strain at my bonds to get a little more of her.

"Beg for it slut!" Sitta said as she edged me mercilessly.

I abandoned my pride with shocking swiftness.

"Please Sitta, whip me, use me, spit on me, just please Sitta, please, please touch me. I will do anything you ask, just please don't stop touching me!" I begged as I strove to thrust my sex harder into her hand as she withdrew until she was barely brushing me.

I swore to be her slave, her slut, her whore, and each time I did she would twist my nipples, slap my ass, or finger me to the edge and leave me hanging.

Finally she released my hands from where they were bound to the tree and I fell to my knees before her. She went to the picnic table and sat down. She spread those perfect legs, and I could see that above the thigh highs she wore nothing beneath her skirt but a forest of tight black hair framing her delicate sex.

"You like my husband-to-be's cum so much, you might want to sample it from where it belongs, my pussy. There are only two things I envy about you, filthy mleccha whore. You have beautiful breasts, and you can conceive. My doctors tell me that I can't carry children successfully, but you can. If you want my husband-to-be's cock so badly, here is how you will earn it. I will NOT LET some red headed mleccha whore come between me and my husband-to-be. If you want to be with him, you will do so only as my property. You will be my slave. You will be my little white cow, and you will carry the baby that I can't"

Sitta slapped me as I had crawled between her legs and kissed my way up to her knees again.

Sitta spoke in a low and husky voice, need as deep as my own trembling in it, showing a vulnerability that somehow compelled me more than her earlier anger.

"If you want to feel my husband's cock, you will only get to fee lit in you when MY baby is growing inside you. If you want to feel my husband to be bless your slut mouth, you will use it to serve me every day. If you wish to feel my husband in your tight little asshole, you will offer that ass to my father, and my brothers when I tell you to so they know that you are no threat to me, you are no rival of mine, you are my slave, my property. If you want to feel my Vivek's hard Hindu cock fill you like you have never been filled before, you will offer your womb to our baby, to carry our child, to nurse our pure bred Hindu sons and daughters on those huge white udders. Then you may share him with me, as my slave"

There it was. What did I want to be? Person or property? Good and faithful white wife never knowing or feeling what it is to be loved by a hard Hindu cock and beautiful Desi goddess, or to become my favorite student's property. A breeding cow, a sex toy, a slave. Just a mleccha slut her whole family will know and be able to use at their whim, just for the chance to feel Vivek's cock in me, and to worship at the altar of Sitta's pussy.

It was no choice at all.

"Please Sitta, please let me carry your children, please let me be your property. I promise, I will be the best mleccha slut for you!"

Her cry of pleasure as I dove at last between her legs and tasted her pussy for the first time was as proud and fierce as any falcons. I tasted Vivek's cum inside her, as they had fucked before she came at the idea of them both owning me as their willing slave. I had no idea how much I would be turned on by driving my tongue into Sitta's pussy, or letting my tongue explore the dark folds of her labia, suck the nub of her clit into my mouth as she unbuttoned her blouse to expose her small firm breasts to me for the first time. I ate her until she came and kept lapping and sucking until she pulled me away by force, unable to take how sensitive I was making her.

Oh how she kissed me then. Tasting her cum on my lips, she took my mouth like a storm and my mind went away as her passion took me. Dragging my head down to her breasts, she let me suck one, then the other of her perfect breasts and hard dark little nipples as she mercilessly edged me again and again, finally letting me cum so hard I collapsed on the driveway in a heap.

Using one perfect foot in a delicate heel, she forced me to my belly before her.

Placing one foot on my neck, she ground my face into the pavement of my own driveway as she stared down at me.

"Are you a person, or are you my property?" Sitta asked.

"I am your property, Mistress Sitta" I answered her, in simple and pure honesty.

I felt her foot leave my neck, and as it passed my face, I caught it in my hands and pressed it to my cheek.

"I love you Mistress Sitta!" I told her. She laughed.

"I might yet grow fond of you as well, my little mleccha slut." Sitta laughed as she swayed into her Mercedes and drove home to her Vivek.

I guess I would be using maternity leave again this year, because I owed Sitta and Vivek a baby of their own, if I was going to earn my chance at feeling his perfect Hindu cock for myself.