Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 16

For some time, Rashida did not speak, but continued to painfully pinch and twist my ear.

"Baba." Rashida tugged my ear painfully. "I am a dominant female. I assert my power over you, despite being your maid and servant, because I want to be in control. Do you think you can handle that all your life? Your own wife, a lowly formerly house maid, slapping you, spanking you? Every day?"

"YES! Oh, my dear bua!" I answered. "You are born to be in charge, and I believe you have earned the right to be in charge of me. I will always be your slave, even as your husband. I benefit by your ... guidance ... and punishment, my dear bua. The way you ... instruct me ... intuitively I know that your inner strength and your inner wisdom is superior to that of any one I know. I will be glad to submit to a dominant female like you. I will make me better, not worse, to have a wife like that."

Rashida continued to hold me powerfully by my ear.

"Baba. For me personally, a relentless degree of strictness is paramount to how I dominate." She stated. "You know this. It is paramount in what I expect from slave, even if he is my husband. In addition to listening to me, you must also learn to listen to all women. I believe in women power and the authority of a female."

This was new to me, but I continued to listen. Rashida laying down conditions for being my wife was a good thing - it meant she was coming around to the idea of marrying me!

"As you know, stern rules and sound spankings are how I make my own dominance a reality." Rashida continued. "As I said, I believe in female authority not because I want a world of weaker men but because I want a world of stronger men who are ultimately guided by the wisdom and strength of an even stronger women, every day. I will be beating you every day. You will be listening to me, every day."

"Bua." Once again, I repeated. "I would follow you, and your orders, to the end of the earth. Any orders you give ... your wish will be my command."

"And yet, Baba, you still cannot get me a suitcase on time." Rashida spoke slowly as she twirled my ear. Then she repeated, "Listen carefully, baba. All that you are saying now is fine, but when it comes time, you will realize that you are a slave to this society, just like me. You will fuck me, and then discard me. And I will do nothing, because we both know our places in society, baba. Now, let's get up."

"Yes, bua."

Rashida stood up, and still holding on to my ear firmly, she hauled me to my feet by the ear. Her fingers were now slowly caressing that ear.

"Baba. You are now 22 ... or is it 23? 22 ... yes. Ready to live by yourself and be the head of a business in a city! But, here I am once again, year after year, day after day, giving you a kaan dola. One would have thought you should be ashamed of getting your ears pulled by your maid servants by now."

"I am sorry, bua."

Rashida let go of my now stinging ear and patted my cheeks.

"Go to your room. That's enough punishment for now, my love. I will see you in the morning."

My love!

She called me ... my love! Progress! Not only did she put out some conditions for marrying me, but she also called me "my love".

"Er ... Yes, bua."

That was last night. Let me come back to this morning, as my maid Rashida sat down on the floor in front of my mother, and I was peering, hiding, watching the whole scene.

As I said, even the maids respected these class structures, divisions, and traditions. Even if these same traditions discriminated against them. Right now, my older maid was seated on the floor of my mother's study out of respect for my mother's higher social stature, even as my mother remained seated on her chair. Just because she was the malkin - the boss.

Class structure personified.

"Rashida," My mother began. "I have been meaning to talk to you about ... about Tarek ... for a long while. I think the time has finally come."

As I heard my mother speak, I found my interest piqued. What did she mean "the has finally come".

"Ji aggey, memsaab." Rashida said, which basically meant 'yes, memsaab'.

I could see that my voluptuous maid was a bit puzzled too. What could my mother want to talk about with her?

"Do you remember, Rashida, when Tarek was in his final year in high school, his marks were not that good?" My mother was saying. "And how I often told you how worried I was!"

"Yes, memsaab, I remember."

"He was getting in trouble in every class, but it was his English teacher, I think ... who complained about him. All the time." My mother recollected. "Not only was he mixing with the wrong group, but passing lewd comments at the girls, and even that teacher."

"Yes, memsaab." Rashida nodded. "It was ... Ms. Geeta Patel, I believe."

Oh no! The rather infamous Ms. Geeta Patel, I thought. The one who ... started all of this. Well, you have to go to the first chapter of my story to know what I mean.

"Yes, yes." My mother concurred. "Fancy, you, Rashida, are remembering the name after all these years."

"It was a rather surprising incident." Rashida recalled. "I remember you telling me in detail about it, memsaab."

"I could always share everything with you, Rashida." My mother looked at our maid fondly. "You were always an older sister to me, and not my maid."

And yet Rashida WAS the maid, and she WAS sitting on the floor, despite my mother's nice words.

"I am just happy to be of service, memsaab." Rashida replied demurely. "You and sahib and baba have always been kind to me. And my family."

"Yes, yes. You are like family, Rashida." My mother said. "Rashida, do you remember a particular complaint by ... by ... Ms. Geeta Patel? Quite scandalous too, it was."

Rashida took a deep breath and nodded.

"Baba had drawn a picture of her in a school notebook. Not very flattering ... but rather ... um ... vulgar." Rashida recollected. "It ... showed ... Ms. Patel as a ... prostitute ... and doing sexual acts. But it came to Ms. Patel's possession, and she was angry. I think she had called you to complain also. Even the school principal was involved."

"Yes, it was very awkward. I had to apologize profusely. It was so embarrassing! Such a filthy drawing - that sketch - he had made of her."

There was a little moment of silence before my mother continued.

"Rashida, do you remember me telling you that time ... that I was worried for Tarek's future."

"Yes, memsaab." Rashida replied. "I told you baba was just being a teenage boy, full of hormones."

I could make out that my maid was choosing her words very carefully. Rashida was smart ... I think she suddenly had an inkling of where my mother was going with this, so she wanted to play safe. I was also listening with rapt attention.

"But I was worried about him." My mother said. "He was hanging out with the wrong crowd ... and his marks were going down ... and he was making those filthy drawings."

"I remember you saying, memsaab," Rashida nodded. "He was not listening to you and was on the wrong track. You were worried about how he was turning out as a teenager."

"We, my husband and I, had always spoilt him." My mother confessed. "We had three daughters before Tarek. And even Tarek ... there is almost 15 years between him and Tania. A surprise child, really! When Tarek was ten, all his sisters were married. He practically grew up here as the only child ... and all of us spoilt him. I could never say no to him."

"Yes, memsaab," Rashida interjected. "Boys like Tarek need a strong woman to take him in hand and keep him in line. Usually the mother, or an aunt, has to do it."

Oh, so many times had Rashida told me this!

"I remember you telling me that ... same thing ... many times, as Tarek was growing up here." My mother said in a soft voice. "Boys like Tarek ... he needs a strong woman to take him in hand and keep him in line. You wanted me to be stricter with him. Punish him. I could never do it, Rashida."

Once again there was silence, before my mother spoke.

"You are quite fond of Tarek, aren't you, Rashida?" She asked.

"Of course, memsaab!" Rashia answered. "He practically grew up in my lap!"

Oh, how often I had been ordered to sit, naked, on her lap, after a thorough spanking!

"I always looked at you, Rashida, as Tarek's second mother." My mother said. "Rashida, you played an equal part bringing up him, even as I remained busy with my work, and his father with the business. We are older too ... when we had Tarek, so we depended on you more than ever. Today, if Tarek is successful, you have a major role to play, Rashida. I genuinely think you were more of a mother to him than I!"

"Oh, no, memsaab. Ki je bollen apni! What are you saying!" Rashida was modest. "I am just a mere old maid servant, memsaab. It is your big heart that you treat me like family. I know Tarek ... baba ... is affectionate of me and all, but growing up, I am just a maid, memsaab. I am someone who made his bed, tidied up his room, washed his clothes, cooked his food, and cleaned his toilet. You are his mother, memsaab."

"No, no, Rashida. You ARE family." My mother insisted. Then she looked straight at Rashida and said, quite firmly, "You are Tarek's second mother. You also know this, I know."

Once again, there was an awkward pause. And then my mother continued.

"That day, five years ago, when I had received a call from Ms. Patel about Tarek's behaviour in the class ... you said the same thing to me. Again. Do you remember?"

Rashida looked at my mother, paused and then nodded.

"Boys like Tarek usually need a strong woman to take him in hand and keep him in line." Rashida repeated her line. "Usually the mother, or an aunt, has to do it. Memsaab, you needed to hold him firmly by the ear and give him a good talking to. Keep punishing him often, in humiliating fashion, until he would have mended his ways."

"Yes, yes." My mother smiled. "But I was never able to do it, Rashida. I was too soft. And I never punished him. But ... I remember ... Which is why when you told me again to be firm with him, I said ... I can't Rashida. Maybe you can be the firmness he needs."

There was a bit of a pause after this.

"Do you remember, saying, Rashida ..." My mother was trying to recollect, "Memsaab, if Tarek's mother or one of his aunts are not doing it, perhaps I should do it."

Once more a silence, before Rashida replied, "Yes, memsaab. I did say that. But you know, memsaab ... I was just speaking out loud."

My mother smiled.

"Rashida." She said. "I knew I could never be strict with my son. But something remarkable happened after that day."

Rashida remained silent, so my mother continued.

"Tarek was getting insolent when that incident happened." She spoke. "All of a sudden, he was no longer arrogant or brash, but respectful. It was a drastic change. I noticed it but didn't say anything. He started to pay more attention to his studies, and his marks improved ... all in his final year of school, before starting university. I know that you because of you, Rashida."

"Oh, no, memsaab. Not me, definitely."

"Oh, don't be modest, Rashida. You have ... somehow ... kept my son in line, even where I couldn't. That day, after the teacher had called me, and I had talked to you, I was worried. But soon, Tarek was doing well at school, and he was becoming a very respectful boy to his teachers. Even the same teacher had said so at the end of the year. I knew right then, that you had something to do with it. You MUST HAVE ... punished ... him. Taken him in hand, as you often wanted me to do. I knew you must have done it, but I kept quiet."

Rashida didn't reply immediately. I felt she was weighing up exactly what to say. I was now deathly scared at what my mother was implying. I thought ... all this time ... all these years ... what went on between me and Rashida ... no one else knew, other than the maids. And here was my mother, putting two and two together.

"I remember ... even when he was in university ... whenever I felt Tarek was on the wrong track, I would talk to you." My mother continued. "And whenever I talked to you, soon the problem would be fixed. Like initially when I knew he was ... he was ... playing with himself ... all the time."

My jaw dropped. I thought I had kept my masturbation during my high school years a secret. Looks like my mother knew! Not only that ... she had complained to Rashida about it!

"I knew that boys grow up and do it." My mother said. "I always told Tarek's father to have a talk with him ... but he never did. Tarek was in his room ... all the time after coming home from school, and then he would go for a shower. I hinted to you about it. But soon, I knew he wasn't ... playing ... masturbating ... any more ... as often."

As I overheard this exchange, my thoughts went back to an incident five years ago. Rashida had just started to punish me ... it must have been just about after a month of her regularly starting to discipline me.

I was in the kitchen, standing with my face to the wall. Rashida had unbuckled my pants, so there were on the floor around my ankles. Rashida had gently stroked me before beginning her punishment.

If anyone had walked into the kitchen, what a sight would have greeted them! I, the master of the house, standing against the wall, butt naked, and my maid Rashida was fondling my testicles. Rashida had then started to punish me, spanking me with a spatula.

WHAP!

WHAP!

As she hit me, she also began to scold me. As I counted each hit, and thanked her, and asked her to hit me again, Rashida had responded, ""With pleasure, baba. It looks like you will need a lot more over the years to properly rectify your behavior, Tarek."

As she hit me again and again, she had continued, "What was regrettable, baba, was that no one ever punished you while growing up. You have become a spoiled young man, and now it's up to me to properly train you into a polite, humble gentleman who respects women. An aunt, or your mother, should have done this a long time ago, baba. Now it has fallen to your lowly maid servant to guide you and teach you, Tarek."

Later on, she had sat down on a stool in the kitchen, and I had gone over her lap for a hand spanking.

SPANK!

SPANK!

As she was spanking me, Rashida continued to scold me.

"I was quite fond of you, Tarek." She had said. "You practically grew up in front of me. And I wanted you to be a good boy. That is why now I have to discipline you."

Rashida was clear that she was punishing me for my own betterment, and not as part of some sexual game.

"I am spanking you because I want to teach and lead you to be a better person." She told me, even as I lay naked on her lap, getting a thrashing from her. "It is about focusing your mind. And it is about making you into a stronger man."

"Yes, bua."

And so ... it had continued. It had come to the point that I was allowing my maid servant to punish me as and how she willed. I also recalled her instructing me about masturbation.

"Baba." Rashida had told me. "I know you ... boys ... have to masturbate. It's a disgusting habit. You will do it only with my permission, baba. And I want you to clean up your mess properly. It's disgusting, and I don't want to see a stain on the bed sheet or chair or anywhere."

"Yes, bua."

"And my permission for you to cum," Rashida had said, "Has to be earned with good behaviour, Tarek."

That was around the time when she had started the practice of me reporting to her twice a week at night, Mondays, and Thursdays, for my punishment.

That night, that first Thursday night, Rashida had led me, naked, by the ear, from my room to hers. And then once in her room, she had slapped me again and again until I had tears running down my cheeks.

"Please don't slap me anymore, bua, please don't," I had begged. "Please bua, I'll be a good little boy from now on. I will not masturbate without asking you, bua."

"I put limits on your masturbation for your own good, Tarek. And yet you continue to defy me!"

Later on, after my punishment was done, Rashida had sat down on the bed, and then had made me sit, naked, on her lap, where she quizzed me on my masturbation habits even as she played with my testicles. First, she had asked me how often I masturbated.

"Usually, I play with myself about once or twice every day, bua!"

"You should be ashamed of yourself, baba." Rashida had scolded me. "There are two adult female maid servants in the house, baba, and a boy your age, playing with himself in full view! We have to do something about that, baba."

Even now when I think about it, I blush a bright shade of red. It is so humiliating to be in my maid's room, naked, on her lap. being scolded by her for masturbating and having a hardon while that scolding was taking place! And since Rashida had my penis and testicles in her hand, she could clearly feel my manhood throbbing with everything that she was saying to me.

"We need to tone your masturbation down." She had told me. "You will now masturbate once a week, after I punish you, and once I have given you permission."

"Er ... yes, bua." I had agreed, obviously.

"And later on, we will keep increasing the time between your releases."

I realized now, as I listened to my mother speak to Rashida after all these years, that Rashida had started to regulate my masturbation from that time, and my mother had noticed it.

Somehow.

"He was always so tardy." My mother was speaking. "Now, he is always so punctual with everything I say! He was always such a dirty boy, and now he is so clean and neat. Even ... he used to be a little chubby ... but now ... he is fit and handsome and athletic. I realize, Rashida, whenever I had a problem with him, I used to complain to you. And then ... somehow ... magically, I should say, I would find Tarek's behaviour rectified."

Rashida smartly kept quiet, letting my mother speak. I was also listening with complete concentration. I was wondering exactly what my mother knew, and what she wanted to find out, and what Rashida would tell her.

"Do you remember the time he did very poorly on his mathematics exam in the university." My mother said. "His next semester results were extraordinary. I know it was all due to you, Rashida."

"Memsaab." Rashida finally spoke. "I wouldn't say it is all due to me. And I won't call myself a second mother, memsaab. I am just a maid, who is doing her duty for her baba. I love baba, memsaab, and whatever I do, is for his good."

There. Rashida finally acknowledged to my mother what my mother had been hinting. Now it was known to my mother that Rashida HAD taken an interest in "keeping me in line". She was "doing her duty".

My mother smiled.

"Today," My mother commented with some pride in her voice, "My son graduated magna-cum-laude and top of his class. His career is set - he can help his father with his business. If he had wanted to go anywhere for higher studies, he would be accepted at all major American universities. And a big part of this is because of you, Rashida."

Again, there was a bit of a pause, before again Rashida commenting, "Memsaab. If you say so. I am just a maid in this house, and I know my place."