A Letter from Old India Ch. 02bybattleaxe_babe©
This story is copyrighted ©, all rights reserved. If you wish to use it please contact the author.
Nagapatnam -- India, 17th July, 1702
I honestly hope this letter finds you well, please offer the best welcome to Mijnheer Abbott, our neighbor who has so kindly offered to deliver this letter to you as he was going to sail to my dear country.
From a wife to a husband I wish your rage has stormed away by now. Strong, spiteful words were written in your last letter. They were meant, as you said, to bring a high-born wife back to the honesty and decency she should have never left. Did I?
What is respectable? A life without pleasure means decency, or may it mean death? And how can one live a life that is dead already?
Is honesty the murder of pleasure and desire? Or it may be more honest to take pleasure in what life gives us, our bodies too?
Yesterday I went out for seeing a bit of this lovely country. Neela is my maid, a lovely young girl around the age of eighteen. She dresses in a white gown as all servants do and walks like a feather on the wooden floor. She is a good company, good at conversation and good at her chores. The Marquise surely picked the right girl to serve me, yet I like to treat the servants with more familiarity than she does.
This country is so warm and beautiful that exploring it without a local guide is like smelling a rose without being able to feel its scent, for this reason Neela often joins me into my promenades out of our residence.
The warm humid air embraces our bodies in a wet hug, sometimes with a light breeze from the ocean tickling drops of sweat on our foreheads. Indian women wear colored sarees fluttering in the breeze, no corsets but a small blouse; what a difference from our strict undergarments!
I can only imagine how fluidly those colored vests fall on the floor showing perfect ebony bodies, not like our laces and petticoats, leaving a caricature in fluffy cotton.
Yesterday we left home early morning; the air was still fresh enough to take a long stroll. Neela was with me, walking side by side. The Marquise advised me this habit of letting the servants out with me and allowing them to walk by my side, not a few steps behind me, was going to create some minor scandal through the good society. They are just blind, unhappy people craving for a satisfaction of any kind, so poor inside that they can only take it out on the servants!
We walked in front of our fort, from which the Official in charge controls all the trades, then headed to the Temple. It will sound strange, dear husband, how I love that temple. All the figures carved in the rock, attractive unknown gods entering into the most human activities.
Neela tells me tales of her gods from time to time. Each god has had a life, with passions and flaws; martyrdom is not their only value. Can you believe couples too are carved into statues, or painted on walls? As if our churches could ever host a husband taking his young wife. Our old society can only learn from these natives, and then we will see how valuable was the freedom we have lost for the sake of a strict etiquette.
In front of the temple there is a market, families mix with merchants, selling produce of their own gardens or goods just arrived from the land. Women in colored sarees happily mix in a swirl of colors and languages, tasting, touching and haggling over the price.
It is a sea of colors, sounds and scents, big sweaty merchants and women who use fragrant spices on their skin. There are so many unknown powders, fruits and roots peeping from baskets, attracting our attention. Smooth, firm mangoes their fibrous sweet pulp showing up bright yellow or red colored litchis with the pointy hard shell protecting the white pulp around the ebony seed; there is so much bounty to choose from.
As the sun was getting higher into the sky the pleasant breeze from the sea faded and I started to feel tired. Neela pointed me to a group of banyan trees making quite a shelter from the road. There I sat on the grass and watched the hummingbird flying in a frenzy around flowers. The long beak entering the flower, barely touching it, sipping the nectar then gracefully fly to the next flower.
Hummingbirds have nothing to hide, neither their shiny feather nor their making love to the flowers. They are a banquet for the senses to watch, sin would be hiding them.
As I was lost in my thought over the hummingbirds my mind returned to the Temple gods, the sculpted figures and their poses.
The image of those two gods standing with their legs entwined stood in my mind, how lucky was the goddess, engaged in an eternal kiss of stone she had hosted the divine cock for centuries. Other two gods were watching the scene, with a badly hidden interest. Maybe Neela could tell me if they all took part in that mythological orgy. Lucky gods, for they can have all it is forbidden to us.
Lost in those thoughts my hand had started wandering on my corset and started tickling a breast. Lifted my skirts, aided by the privacy given by the tree and bushes sheltering our private spot, and touched my most intimate parts to send a thrill through my body.
Indeed, I was wet and my breasts were strictly closed under the corset, begging for freedom. Neela was laying on her side, her quiet dark eyes staring what I was doing. I asked her to help me with the corset, definitely too strict for that heat and sat up enough to let her access the laces on my back.
You could never imagine, my dear Husband, what the dear Neela did. I felt her breath on my neck and her soft lips kissing it. I turned surprised and caught her cheeky smile. She said "If Madam will allow ..." and did not finish the sentence, for I had allowed her already by returning the smile.
My corset came off and her thin fingers closed in a cup around my breast; what a vision! Her ebony fingers on my pale white skin, her mouth on my neck, kissing and arousing inch by inch as she was undressing me.
Her tongue nibbled and tickled one nipple, then moved on the other, with a twirling motion she bought me close to ecstasy, once, twice, she did it over and over leaving me panting for more after each time. In my eyes I could only see the pointy hibiscus flowers, carefully attended by hummingbirds, just as my breasts.
Her hands moved as feathers on my body, removing garments and leaving my pale skin exposed to the warm exotic air. I sat up and helped her undress; her full breasts were hanging free under her white cotton dress, and the big nipples were pointing to my mouth just as if they were calling for attention. When I got closer to suck one I felt the scent of spices, of almond and turmeric the local women use on their skin, mace, or cinnamon maybe. They were a drug to the senses, penetrating my nostrils and my mind, attracting my lips to fondle that ebony skin.
Neela's dress fell on the grass and my lips approached her crotch, what a pleasure. A smell of freshly caught fish mixing with cinnamon and other spices, my dear Husband, what a pleasure we are forbidden. Neela laid on the grass spreading her legs, showing her secrets, you should have seen those lips, darker than the rest of her skin, slightly wrinkled, soft and juicy under my tongue. The warm moist center in the middle, dark pink and wet of a white humor, inviting my tongue to probe deeply, then move up to the pinhead over it.
She called me to straddle her face so she could, "return the favor Madam is doing to her," I did not waste time and moved as she directed me.
Two of my fingers plunged deep into her opening, her hips moved to meet my hand, the palm grinding on the little needle tip. What a contrast were my pale fingers against her tanned skin, how inviting was that opening, I dipped my tongue in it.
I tasted her juices, moved my tongue inside and felt more of them dripping in my mouth.
Neela reacted arching her back and moaning softly, that excited me so much I sealed my lips around her cunt, explored and sucked with passion. Any time I would push my tongue in Neela moaned; I wanted her moans to never stop so I didn't leave her flower until her legs trapped my head in place on her groin.
She was holding me between her strong tanned thighs, grabbing my hair with a hand so my tongue couldn't leave her groin. It was like convulsions shook her, so close to reaching her final pleasure. My fingers, my face, they were all coated in her juices and I was feeling so hot and wet myself.
She came like a wave, grabbing my head so strong I thought she could pull it off. My fingers inside her cunt felt her inner muscles throbbing, then every muscle of her body contracted and she let out one final loud moan before collapsing, panting heavily, just as if a demon, or a god, had just possessed her.
I stood back a little and feasted on the view of her naked body, smooth colored skin. My own body was reclaiming attention and my pussy was now dropping juices all over my thighs, so my hand slipped under my garments and started rubbing my most intimate place.
Standing on my knees I opened my legs as wide as my unacceptable clothing would allow me and dipped three fingers into my pussy, used them to furiously fuck my own cunt, as if they could be the most amazing tool of a man. I reached my own pleasure quickly, for I was already far on that path.
The scents, the sight, all came to my senses and pleasure took a hold of me, rushing, gushing and owning my body as if the same demon that owned Neela had moved into my body. I collapsed near my trusted maid and must have needed some time to regain consciousness.
I must tell you, my dear Husband. The pleasures of this world have always been forbidden to us, but no more! A life with no pleasure I will have no more.
Mijnheer Abbott will deliver this letter into your safe hands but our home country and its silent rules will see me no more. The time of six months the doctor had prescribed me that dark day in Rotterdam is up, but the Sereniteit will sail back home without me.
The few coppers I had sent you from my last adventure were returned. I once again enclose them into this last letter, in the hope you will use them as a payment for my services, as a loyal yet not pleasure-deaf wife, when you will take your pleasure from me. Otherwise may they just be a help to the distant memory of a once well-known person.