It had been three weeks since I had been rear ended by Zara, the beautiful and oh so commanding Desi goddess who responded to my superior attitude by stripping me naked in the streets and giving me the spanking I deserved, and in the process discovering how many needs I had that she could fulfill.
Here I am, ready for my training. I shiver in anticipation. I stand only five seven, my weight is a constant battle as I am built to Ruben’s taste not current fashion, my long red hair, blue eyes and pale skin pass the muster for suburban royalty, but my 48GG-40-46 figure requires lots of hard work to keep lush not just round.
I am dressed in tight black yoga pants, and a tight yoga top, both stretched beyond decency. They were custom ordered for me by Zara. The top says Randee, and the pants say Angrejee Veshya, all with matching Hindi beneath them. The top says prostitute, and the bottoms say English Whore. It amuses Zara to make me wear these in public on the way to and from my training. She knows how shy and conservative I am, to be so publicly exposed as a proper married woman, and openly advertised as her plaything didn’t just make me humiliated, it made me almost insane with lust. The final article of clothing I was permitted was my collar, a pretty pink dog collar, also ordered off the internet, with stainless steel letters “Zara’s Pet”.
Zara’s home was not opulent, it was beyond that. She had a large dance studio where we worked out, and then played, adjacent to the sauna and hot tub where we would relax, and I would massage her and we would do each other’s hair. Every day I came here to work out, because Zara was determined to put me in the best shape of my life. She also made me dance for her, as sensually as I could, teasing me, taunting me, refusing to lay a finger on me or permit me to even kiss her pedicured toes until I had driven her so mad with desire she would pin me to the wall and ravage me.
I am a submissive, I have lived my life hiding my body, being the first girl to develop does not make you popular, it makes you a target for all the girls and boys to tease, so I have always been ashamed of my body, always hidden it. I was the good girl every mother wanted to have, but my body and my sex drive had needs of their own, needs I always supressed because I had no idea how to fulfill them, and lacked to courage to do it on my own. Zara is not training me out of my submissiveness, she is training me into it.
How can I describe her? She moved with a sort of supple sensuous grace that left me feeling like lumbering cow. Her saree looked formal from a distance, but closer in revealed a similar green leaf pattern bodice under the wrap, and much of her body, down to the swell of her generous hips was highlighted more than concealed. The gold and green fall of the saree called attention to the swell of her high firm breasts, just as the water like flow caused your eyes to follow the roll of those hips, the line of those long bronze legs, and wonder at the mystery just concealed between them. Looking up into her eyes, flashing like onyx beneath an odd gold chain of medallions affixed in her hair and hanging to her forehead, I saw a look of bored anger and contempt forming on a face that was exotic, beautiful, and fierce in the way of a falcon. Her lips were warm and sensuous, a lipstick of blood red matched the smoky eyeshadow to give her face a sort of opulent and open sexuality, coupled with the hauteur of a goddess slumming among mere mortals, gave her the power to stun a man at fifty paces, and it seems my own gender was not defense enough against her regard. She stood only five foot five, but her bearing was that of a queen, so I fond myself instinctively lowering myself around her to never look down at her. Her hair was black like a raven’s wing, long and straight, like a fall of midnight over skin the colour of a temple bronze. Her breasts were C cup, with dark sensitive nipples she had taught me to suck, and even to bite when she commanded me to. Her ass was like an apple, pert and round, it moved so expressively when she walked I swear she need never speak, simply walk, and you would know everything she needed you to.
In the last few weeks I have seen her wearing nothing but the sheerest silk scarf wrapped more as accent than dress around her rich form as she took me in all three holes with a golden strap on she called “Practice”, but wouldn’t say why. She didn’t tell me why to put in the blue gem butt plug and make sure I was very well lubed either, but I was hoping that if I danced well today Zara would take my ass again, holding my long red hair, so both of us could see us both in the long mirrors of the dance room as she takes me from behind again.
I arrived at the dance studio door as I have been trained to do. I entered, removing my street shoes and putting on black jazz shoes. I rang the bell to announce that I was here, and then went to the corner to strike my waiting pose, forth position. My right arm raised above my head, left on my hip, right sakarya escort leg crossed in front of left and turned out. Back slightly arched, chest out. I am well displayed forward, and at a single clap can turn through a slow turn to show my side profile and rear for inspection.
The lights are low in the studio, but the flash in the mirror shows the door has opened, and I hear Zara’s laughter. My nipples are so hard right now that they ache. Zara keeps threatening to put bells on them when I dance, I am getting close to asking her to. I am blushing, so ready for her to train me as her personal sexual servant, her pretty white slave girl. I hear a second voice, low and sensual, like a jungle cat. It is Vivek! Her husband!! I freeze and do not know what to do.
Zara’s voice is like sensual honey flowing down my spine, washing all thoughts of anything but pleasing my Desi goddess, and igniting a fire in my loins.
“Vivek darling, it is your thirtieth birthday, and I have brought you a very special present. This is my slave Jan. Display your self slut!” Zara clapped imperiously, and obedient to my training, I turned slowly, showing off my overdeveloped chest, and the ass I have never been prouder of since Zara undertook my training.
As I turned, I saw Zara, she was staring adoringly at Vivek. I am used to seeing her as the angry goddess with the dark flashing eyes, punishing hands, and the golden goddess of pleasure, whose sensual smile and knowing eyes, and yet here she was, adorning Vivek’s arm like he was a visiting god, and she his adoring priestess.
Vivek took my left hand, and raised it to his lips for a kiss. I shivered at the lazy sensuality of it all. His eyes slowly took in my body, caressing my ass and chuckling at what it read. Turning my hand until the wedding and anniversary band sets caught the light, he turned to Zara and asked quietly.
“Your slave seems to have wedding rings, we do not steal other peoples property Zara, am I going to have to punish a disobedient wife?” His voice was like Zara’s only ten times as potent, flowing over my skin, burning down my nerves and lighting my brain on fire.
Zara simply sneered and stepped forward, she pulled my head around by my hair, and bent me back, leaving my heaving chest and exposed throat open, then she hissed like a cobra.
“This little slave was running around uncollared, unmastered, unused. The only time she has ever known what it is to be a proper and submissive woman is when I have mastered her. She has never been owned by a man, this is only part of what I give to you, my husband.” She said.
And then she kissed me. Hard at first, and then softer, knowing as much as I would like to surrender and pretend it is something she forces upon me, when she starts to withdraw I lean into her eagerly, my tongue darting into her mouth, my hands rushing to her raven hair to hold and kiss her. She lets me work myself into a frenzy and then puts first one, then the second arm behind my back, and whispers.
“Stay, do not move until I release you!”
I freeze in place, seeing the lust awakened in Vivek’s eyes as he looks upon both of us. Zara moves to the stereo and begins the dance music. I want to move, to dance for her, for him, for them, but am forbidden to move.
Zara is like flame, moving with an arrogant grace, her head rock steady as her body sways beneath her, arms and legs moving in graceful arcs that seemed random until you realized each kept her perfectly in balance and displayed her charms to maximum effect. Vivek unbuttoned his shirt and sat back on the stool to watch, picking up a tumbler he poured a few fingers of gin into it and sipped as Zara danced for him.
His hands toyed with my ass, and when I squirmed, he would slap it casually, but so much more powerfully than Zara did that my pussy was betraying me with such wetness he must notice by now. He finally asked Zara.
“Does your slave dance, or do her fake tits break if she bounces?” Vivek asked.
Zara clapped twice, and I ran to her side, my command to dance being given. I began to move with her as we had trained, but she was wild, aggressive, predatory, and I could do no more than dance my submission to her as we moved together, her hands on me, mine on her. She kissed me fiercely and then slapped my face. In the moment of shock, she pulled my top off and turned me around. I presented my ass to her and she spanked it as hard as she could three times, making my breasts dance, then she drew me against her body, nibbling on my ear. I melted back into her, my arm moving above and behind my head to hold her as she kissed my neck and let her hands play over my belly and breasts.
“Would I bring you a fake cow? No, if I give you a cow for your birthday Vivek, she is the finest pure white cow that could be had, ready for the great bull of India to mount”
Zara kissed her way down my back and stripped my yoga pants from me as she spun me to continue the dance, this time with my white body samsun escort naked, and hers clad only in thin saree with no undergarments. As we danced, this time she allowed me to undress her. She spun out of her saree and let me pull her back to close and kiss again, hands and breasts moving against each other as we did.
Turning me to face her, with my back to Vivek, Zara stepped back and pointed to her perfect pained toes, and without a thought, I dropped to my hands and knees, pressed my cheek to her sandal as trained and began kissing her feet.
The blue gem butt plug caught the light and Vivek hissed, causing Zara to laugh.
“That is right my darling man, my tiger, my prince, there are only two things I can’t and won’t do for you. This white slut has been training for weeks to take your hard golden cock up her tight white ass, and she has never in her whole life been taken by a strong Hindu man, a loving husband who knows his wife must be taught her place and kept in it through the power of his mighty lund, his great Indian cock.”
Vivek snarled and advanced on me. I was shocked at how quickly he went from lounging and relaxed to leaping predator, so I froze like any lesser species when the tiger struck.
He drove his fingers into my pussy, and found me soaking wet. He pulled my plug from out of my ass with a soft pop, and with a snarl worked two fingers fresh from my pussy into my ass. I began to whimper and push back into his hand as Zara had trained me.
“Your little slave seems to want my cock up her ass, are you sure her husband won’t mind?” Vivek asked cheerfully as he worked a third finger into me.
Zara was naked and glorious before me, she stepped to her husband and kissed him full and hard, tongues dancing as he pulled her naked form against him, fingers still drilling my asshole.
“Her ass is the first of two presents my slave has to offer you Vivek, my beloved” Zara spoke with such love, almost reverence. I was moved, honored even. She was using me as her white whore, her slave, she was giving my ass as her present to a husband she had denied the opportunity to fuck her own delicate ass.
Vivek let Zara pull his cock out and begin to suck him as he alternately smacked my ass and fingered my ass and pussy. When he was hard as stone, and could take no more he commanded Zara.
“Put me in your white slave’s ass.”
He was a Hindu god, she his priestess, and I was the white sacrifice she offered him.
His head was soft, hot, spongy, but the shaft behind was a bar of iron. Slowly he pushed against the lube that Zara poured over his cock head, and my poor sphincter yielded. I felt him pass my tight ring, and felt it bind on his shaft, drawing him deeper.
He was not like Zara with her random and jerky thrusts with the strap on. He pushed in slowly, revelling in opening my ass inch by inch. Pulling back and stroking deeper. He felt me pushing back, unable to breathe because he was so thick, but wanting, no, needing him to take my ass, to show me what it feels like to be owned by a husband.
“She really is a natural white slave, isn’t she?” Vivek asked.
“She was born to be my slave Vivek, and I offer her ass as the second most precious gift this birthday.” Zara said, this time with pure and glowing love.
I felt so much love flowing between them as they kissed above my head that I reached out and began to kiss my way towards her dark mound, modestly trimmed unlike my own shaved bare whore pussy with tiny tuft of red hair at the top.
Vivek growled as he kissed his beautiful wife, reaching down to pull my hair and wrap it like a scarlet rope around his wrist. He pulled me until my back arched, and began to thrust harder into my asshole.
Each thrust drove the breath from me, and set a shock of electricity playing over my muscles and destroying my brain. I was going to cum right now, and Zara could see it. She slapped my face again, and told me “maastar ke baad sah, whores cum after masters slut.”
She pulled my face down into her pussy to distract me, and it worked. Each time Vivek drove his hard brown cock into my yielding white ass, I drove my tongue into his wife’s pussy, or sucked her clit like the last candy on earth. Zara began to rock on my face, humping it as she talked to her husband non-stop.
“Do you like her white ass Vivek? You like fucking her married white ass? I will let you fuck it whenever you want, maybe even let you share it with your brothers; the way they always wanted you to share me. Her ass and mouth you can share.”
That was enough to set of Vivek, he came with a roar like an enraged bull, his cock swelling like a cobra extending its hood. I felt the hot blast of cum hit my rectum like bolts of liquid lightning. I came so hardI screamed into Zara’s pussy. Zara crawled to Vivek’s side and pulled him out of me. She then grabbed me by the hair and told me to suck our master clean. I sucked his cock as Zara kissed up his belly sucked his nipples, urfa escort nibbled at his neck before kissing him strongly as I sucked his cock, tasting the mixture of his cum, and the familiar tang of lube and my own ass.
Zara drew me off the ground, and opened the door to their home, the first time I had ever been inside the home proper, the living area.
“Lets adjourn to the bedroom for your big present Vivek my love.” Zara laughed as she led me, her perfect ass wiggling saucily, towards their distant bedroom.
On the bed, Zara and I lay on opposite sides of Vivek, each kissing him, then each other. Offering him a white breast, a golden one, then each tasting the others in front of him. Vivek was growing hard again, and this time he growled and rolled me onto my back. He kissed me for the first time like a husband, like a master. His kiss lit my body on fire. Owning not only me, but all my thoughts, my dreams, my hopes, opening new possibilities of joy, submission, and true deep ownership.
He kissed his way down my neck, biting to leave hickeys across my pale pink skin, leaving his marks. When he got to my tits, he sucked and kneaded them until I was almost cumming, then bit firmly on my nipple to pull me back from the edge.
I turned to Zara and we kissed again, hard as Vivek kissed his way down my belly to my waiting and eager sex.
Zara whispered to me “This is what you have been missing, a real man, a real Hindu husband who will teach you your place, show you how it feels to be loved until you cannot think, speak, or breathe, where you exist only as an instrument for him to make the music of ecstasy for the gods themselves to hear. Don’t you need this in your life?” She asked.
Vivek was circling my clit with his tongue as his fingers curled inside my pussy to caress my g-spot. He sucked upon the hood, teased around my clit, but no matter how I bucked and writhed against his face, he never sucked my clit into his mouth, just grazed it lightly with his tongue. It was driving me insane.
“Yes, god yes Zara, I need this, I need Vivek!” I begged her, loudly
Zara grabbed my nipples and started to tug them, like she does to keep me on edge and not let me cum. She hissed louder.
“He is my husband, MINE! You are my slave MINE! Do you understand slut?” She hissed, twisting my nipples and making me arch my back.
“YES MISTRESS, YOURS!” I screamed as Vivek took my clit in his mouth to suck, flicking his tongue across it lightly even as his fingers sawed into my needy pussy. I was burning, dying, but not being allowed to die.
Zara confessed what she had never told me before, even when she heard me confess that I loved her, she withheld this secret shame, this secret truth from me.
“I cannot have children, do you hear me SLAVE? I cannot give my perfect Vivek children, and you, you great white cow, had to have your husband gelded because you become pregnant so easily, those great white udders of yours filled with milk for strong sons and beautiful daughters. Won’t you give that to Vivek slave, won’t you give him your fertile white womb, bring forth strong Hindu sons and graceful Hindu daughters for your Master and Mistress?” Zara whispered, fingers stroking, caressing my breasts as I felt my orgasm overtaking me.
“YES, oh god yes, VIVEK PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR HARD HINDU COCK!” I screamed as I came. Each wave burst in me like a body blow, and I gasped out “Give me your seed, give me your baby, I will give you babies MASTER!” I begged as I came, broken and needy.
Vivek was transformed, a bull indeed, he pulled my legs up above my head to expose my married white sex and held my ankles in his left hand. His right he used to press his hard brown cock into my needy pink slit and with a grunt push into me.
This was unlike how he took my ass, there was no gentleness, no restraint, he fucked me so hard he drove me into the bed, his balls slapping my ass as he pounded me like a cheap whore, as indeed I was for them. I rode the edge past orgasm, where the intensity was so strong I would have stopped him if I could, but he was a storm, and like a boat on the storm tossed sea, I rode the shattering wave orgasm again and again as he fucked me savagely.
Zara had her hands at the join of us, rubbing my clit, cupping his ass encouraging him to drive her slave harder. All the time she was talking.
“You are going to be my great white cow, my breeding cow. I will have pretty daughter to come after me, strong sons for Vivek to teach, and I will drink my milk from your breast, as will Vivek. Our white slave, our breeding cow”
Vivek came with a roar that ended in a series of grunts as aftershocks rocked my body again and again. I could feel my pussy filled with potent Indian sperm. Vivek rolled off of me and clutched both of us to him.
He brushed the long red hair from my face and turned my face up to look at him. He said very quietly.
“This is truly your will, slave? You will carry my children for Zara and I to raise, you will nurse them on your own breasts as you did your children. You will be a part of our family, as you are a part of your husbands? This is your will?” The compassion in his eyes, the need, the vulnerability are what made it impossible to say no.