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Author Topic: Accidental Joy ( FF, NC, Interr)  (Read 1354 times)
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Valley Vixin
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Married white professional woman with secrets


« on: March 20, 2018, 06:01:42 PM »

Accidental Joy

I won’t use my real name, not here.  Not for this.  You can call me Valley.

What you should know about me, I am a professional woman, a senior driving instructor, who trains not only new drivers, but instructors, and teaches defensive driving to corporate groups.  I am a 47 year old red head, all natural, 48GG-40-46, spread over five feet seven of curved and fit.  I dress conservatively, and to conceal because since I developed early and was shy, I have never found my body to be a source of pride, so much as embarrassment.  I was that good girl your mother always wanted, and my sexual horizons are my first boyfriend in college, and my husband.

Until today.

I was driving to the classroom to pick up materials for my next class.  The office has another instructor drop them, so I can just go to the classroom and pick them up, and not have to journey all the way to head office all the way into the city. The light turned red, and I pulled to as top.  I looked behind me and there was an East Indian woman talking on her cell phone in her BMW and I was afraid she was going to hit me.  I tapped my horn to get her attention, and she dropped her phone, looked down to get it, and hit my car in the rear bumper.

She was clearly at fault, but I wanted to make sure she was OK, so I got out and got ready to exchange information.  The woman who stepped out was not dressed for business, so much as she was dressed to be seen.  I swear, the cost of her silk saree could have bought my car, and the price of her manicure probably paid for the repairs to both.  The woman unfolding from the car made me stop my somewhat snippy demand for her licence and registration.  She was stunning.

Flowing out of the car like a goddess descending from the clouds, 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 when she turned those eyes on me.

A voice as rich and dark as her eyes rang from the Indian woman “You frumpy little cow.  You made me drop my phone, on my toe, and I think you broke it.  The toe, not the phone.  What have you got to say for yourself?”

I held out my licence and registration.

My own reply was professionally courteous “Ma’am, you were driving while talking on your cell phone, that is against the law.  You struck me from behind when I was stopped at a red light, that is against the law.  Your insurance will pay for the repairs, but I will need your insurance paperwork.  I am a driving instructor, and I can assure you, there is no reason to argue, just exchange our information and be on our separate ways” 

I was trying to be reasonable, but the angry beauty in front of me did not look reasonable, she looked like a falcon unsure of whether to scream and tear someone in half, or soar back to the heavens where she belongs.
Turing to look at me, her gaze was smouldering. Her voice rang now with challenge-

“You call that little bump a hit from behind? You have no idea what my husband Tarun will do to my behind when I tell him of this.  Then you would know when you have been hit from behind, and when you have been only tapped.”  She turned her rather curvy rump suggestively and glared at me.

I tried to be reasonable with her, offering assistance against what I thought she was saying.
 
“Spousal abuse is common in some communities, I know, but the police are there for you, and we have shelters if you need to get away”

  She cut me off, stepping forward and grabbing my long red hair.  My voice sounded in a mouse like squeak as she took me and walked me to my own car’s hood like a mamma cat with an unruly kitten.  Her voice dropped low, threatening, and very sensual

 “First you get me in trouble with this nonsense about the car, and then you wish to destroy my marriage by involving the police, and you go on to accuse my community of being abusive.  You racist self absorbed self righteous little slut.  You probably are so uptight you have no idea that a spanking can be as much a reward as punishment, and that a strong woman needs to be reminded periodically that her man is stronger yet.  In fact, I think your uptight little conservative ass needs a good spanking, and I need an apology.  Well my little red headed harlot, lets see about your education right now”

I put my hands on her wrist holding my hair, prepared to rotate and break her wrist and defend myself.  Things did not go as planned when instead of striking me, her hand cupped my ass cheek and her lips descended on mine for a kiss that started soft, and swelled into an insistent hungry exploration of my mouth that drove all thought from my head, and resulted in my hands falling loosely to the swell of her hips as she teased my tongue into dancing with hers, and her hands roamed my body seemingly at will.  Breaking the kiss with a giggle, she spun me around and looped a turn of her saree around my wrists behind my back, then leaned forward and undid my belt, sliding it down my pants to pool at my feet.

I started to protest, but she was having none of it.

Her voice now was dripping with honey and laughter

“Don’t be silly, who spanks through clothes?  Unruly wives and ungrateful children are spanked bare bottom.  Everyone knows that.  Oh my god, what is that you are wearing on your bottom.  Are those men’s underwear, or do they make something that hideous for women?  No, don’t answer, I think little enough of you already, if you tell me you want to wear these granny panties I will lose what little respect for you as a woman I still have”

Without further ado, she whipped them down to my feet, and slapped each calf once to spur me to step out of pants and panties. I was naked from the waist down at the intersection, and cars were slowing to watch as they passed, but no one was interfering.
Sounding now like a proud teacher with a slow student finally making progress her voice was a mix of wonder and exasperation.

 “Look at that, you are trainable!  You have quite a nice arse, but a lousy attitude.  Proper training can fix that you see.”

She sounded so reasonable, but here I was stripped half naked in the street!!  I opened my mouth to shout at her, but I think she anticipated my outrage and was waiting when I turned to yell at her. She popped my panties into my mouth like a gag and laughed.

 “See, there is a use for them.  I wouldn’t even slow down my talking if you jammed my thong in my mouth. Even your big mouth can’t handle these ugly things”

Before I could think about spitting them out, the spanking began.  How can I describe it?  She cupped my throat in her hand to bend me back, then alternated hard vicious slaps to my ass that rocked my body, with full ass caresses that grazed my mound and little puckered hole.  She began to chuckle low when she caught me trying to move against her hand during the caresses. Flinching from the anticipated pain was a mistake, for in pushing myself farther up the car hood, I exposed my pussy to her fingers when she probed my sex. She stopped and licked her finger clean of what she grazed between my legs when she discovered how hot and wet my married white pussy had become. 

Her voice now held simple uncomplicated delight “A proper slut spanking requires full display, and your big cow udders are still covered.  We can’t have that.” 

She said.  Reaching forward, she tore open my blouse, buttons flying everywhere.  With an odd economy of motion, she popped the clasp on my bra and pulled it over my breasts, cupping them both fiercely and grinding me against the car hood as she mimed humping me.  She kissed my neck as her hands cupped my breasts and pinched the nipples, lifting my heavy breasts by the nipples until I whimpered and begged through the gag.  Laughing, she pushed me forward again over my car hood.

Now my 48GG breasts were bare, and my pale pink nipples revealed as fully erect.  Grabbing my hair, she pulled me back to keep my upright, and began to spank me again.  Each blow making my breasts bounce, and drawing honking and hollering from the male, and even some of the teenage female drivers as they watched the Indian goddess spanking my ass as red as my blushing face.  My gag had fallen out, and as the spanking continued, she would alternate slaps and sliding fingers, both into my sex, and then later, into my virgin ass, using my own juices as lubrication.  Soon she was making me beg, and choose which hole she would toy with between slaps, and making me beg her to continue, rather than leave me hanging. 

Fingers driving into my pussy as she called me her little English randee, her porcelain slut, she drove me to the edge of orgasm, and then left me hanging.  She whispered in my ear that I needed to ask before I was allowed to cum.  I shook my head. I would not!  She began now to probe my ass, rather than my needy dripping pussy and the edge of my release hovered just beyond me as she began to pound me slower, then with increasing speed and savagery.  If anything, the denial forced my body far past any release I had ever allowed myself without going over the edge.  She laughed as I whimpered and moaned.  Finally I began to speak, to beg honestly, and she would not listen, would not listen until I was shouting at the top of my lungs!

“PLEASE may your little English randee cum?  Please ma’am I am begging you!”

 I was screaming at the top of my lungs, I could hear her laughing, and hear the honking of the men in the passing cars, enjoying the show.  I no longer cared.  I no longer cared about anything except being let over the edge; to cum.  I accepted that I needed permission to do so, and would do whatever it took to get it.  Laughing, she finally granted permission, and it was like releasing a bowstring, my body simply snapped directly into a spasm that bent me in half, face down against the hood, feet coming right off the ground.  It was only her hand in my hair that kept me from falling off the car, and to the pavement.  I have never cum that powerfully in my life.  With a flick of her wrists, she unwound the saree from my crossed wrists and freed my arms.

Her voice was imperious, a disappointed goddess addressing ungrateful worshipers

“There now, you have your spanking, and your reward, but where it the kiss for my pain?  You made me drop my phone on my toe, what are you going to do about it?” 

She asked haughty and cold as any falcon looking at prey. She extended one delicate, sandal clad foot, and pointed to the big toe.  She had her camera in her hand now, as I crawled to her feet, bent my head down and kissed her toe, before taking it into my mouth and sucking it like a little cock.  I kissed and caressed her foot, all the way to her delicate bronze ankle.  Beginning to draw the saree up her beautiful legs, her laughter took on a low, deeply stirring hunger. 

Rich Hindi accent teasing now, she teased me

“Is that all you want to kiss better, my little English randee?  Do you maybe want to kiss my chut better?” 

Her Indian accented voice left me guessing what randee meant, but pretty sure what chut meant, and pretty sure I wanted to kiss her pussy. I began to kiss my way up her legs, her thighs and into the golden valley between them.  She spread her legs, and offered me access to her garden of earthly delights.  Dark and hairy, her pussy was exotic and responsive. I began to explore her, running tongue along the outside of each lip of her labia, before beginning to suck on them gently.  Her taste was divine, and soon my control was fading and I was lapping at her “chut” like a starving dog.  Looking up into her laughing eyes, I saw she was filming me naked on my knees eating her pussy, and I didn’t care.  All I cared about was pleasing her.

She was trimmed, that is her pubic area was shaped. It was perhaps the single most beautiful sight I have seen, other than that of my newborn daughters when they were first given to me.  I caught my breath in wonderWith one hand she let me know when it was time, and drew my face to her clit, and I began to lick and suck it.  I know it is hard for my to cum when my husband does not keep a rhythm when he eats me, so I strove to build a rhythm and then increase the speed as her cries became more urgent.  Taking her clit into my mouth and flicking my tongue across it, I was rewarded when she dropped her phone a second time, and this time because both her hands were on my head, driving me inside her as she came.  Her screams gave way to sighs, and ended in a sort of happy giggle.  She patted my head, and began to adjust her clothes from their frenzied disarray. As she adjusted her saree to something resembling modesty, I picked up her phone and tried to hand it to her.  Her voice sang out, a relaxed happiness filling it with warmth.

“Put in your number and name slut, then I will have you come over and arrange for our mechanic to fix your car.  I don’t want to go through insurance.  Oh, you may want to wear something that slides off in a hurry, there is a good chance if Tarun is angry with you that he will want to spank you too, and if he does, he won’t be as gentle to your clothes as I was”

I got my clothes back on, and was unsure what to do now.  I was assaulted, or seduced. I wasn’t’ sure.  I was humiliated, or maybe I was redeemed.  I was so confused.  Right up until she grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, and kissed me hard, long, and deep.  Hugging me tight, she whispered quietly in my ear with such loving kindness that it washed over me like sunlight, blasting away all my doubts and fears.

“Oh my pretty little Valley, I am Zara.  Tarun and I are going to so enjoy you, and you will at last learn how to enjoy yourself”

I may have been publicly used and humiliated, spanked and used, but I had just had the most profound sexual experience of my life, and was promised that it was only the beginning.  I would not be reporting this accident.  I would call Zara, and ask for instructions.  Memory of that final kiss would allow me no other choice.


Logged

I am the conservative good girl I was raised to be.  I am the submissive slut I was born to be.  The gap between them is where this all comes from.
twistedspike
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« Reply #1 on: March 22, 2018, 08:37:07 PM »

 and soon my control was fading and I was lapping at her “chut” like a starving dog.  Looking up into her laughing eyes, I saw she was filming me naked on my knees eating her pussy, and I didn’t care.  All I cared about was pleasing her."

 Very sweet tale, would love to hear the rest. thank you for sharing.
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Valley Vixin
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Married white professional woman with secrets


« Reply #2 on: August 26, 2019, 09:28:14 PM »

Chapter 2: Deliberate Joy

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 Hidi 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 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 sensualness 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 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 Viveks 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, 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 of 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.

“Yes Master!”  I said kissing his nipple, then sucking it.  Zara sucked his other nipple until Vivek grabbed us both by the hair, kissed first his wife, then me, then brought us together to kiss for him, large white breasts and medium golden ones brushing as we kissed.

“This is the best birthday ever I think”  Vivek said, fondling each of our breasts as his wife and his white slave kissed for his amusement.


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I am the conservative good girl I was raised to be.  I am the submissive slut I was born to be.  The gap between them is where this all comes from.
Sweetums
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« Reply #3 on: March 21, 2020, 06:54:14 AM »

Great story. Great premise as usual. Very well written.

I would like to hear more about Valley's slave training at the hands of Zara, especially regarding "practice."

More story! I hope it takes a long, long time to impregnate Valley. I want to read about her husband's reaction, which could add all sorts of crazy twists to Valley's humiliation and submission. Ooh, Valley is 47 years old. I want Vivek and Zara to force Valley to kidnap and hold in her house a teenage fuck slave for Vivek to anonymously breed, perhaps more than one. Healthier children that way, plus more plot twists.

Sweetie, we got you driving lessons for your eighteenth birthday! Say hello to your new driving instructor Valley!
« Last Edit: March 21, 2020, 07:01:52 AM by Sweetums » Logged
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