Denny opened the door to his office. ‘Another Monday,’ he thought with pleasure, ‘another collection day.’
He was a very rich man who couldn’t ever get enough of money. A trader basically, dealing in commodities like rubber and coir, his main source of income was money-lending or what was known in his part of the world, ‘gold loans’ which meant lending against gold or jewellery. His customers were generally people not very well off, uneducated and rather intimidated at the thought of approaching banks for their needs. The rate of interest charged was exorbitant but Denny was known to never turn a needy person down and coupled with his jovial exterior and a syrupy tongue, managed to have a thriving business. Monday, his collection day, was special because he could literally see his wealth increase before his eyes. All transactions were in cash so no tax was ever paid. He was a real stickler for timely payments by clients and the penal interest charged was normally a sound deterrent against default. Occasionally if an errant borrower happened to be female and under fifty, he would waive the penalty in exchange for some minor sexual favours.
Denny was free with his money in entertaining his group of cronies, all in their early thirties and unmarried. Five of them would gather in his office every evening after six and they would either go to a bar or one of the clubs. Wilson, the dandy of the group, was always dressed impeccably and fancied himself as a ladies man. The group would watch an occasional blue film at Denny’s office late at night.
One weekend, during a the drinking session, Denny pulled Wilson aside.
‘Wil, try and get out of work on Monday morning and turn up at my office by around 11. You might get lucky,’ he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
‘What’s up Den?’ asked Wilson.
‘Come and see for yourself,’ was the cryptic reply.
Wilson was rather mystified by his friend’s odd behaviour.
However around 11 on Monday morning he walked into Denny’s office bursting with curiosity. Denny greeted him and asked him to sit in his cabin. Shortly there was a timid knock and a woman walked in hesitatingly. She appeared to be a rural type, of average height, dark and quite mediocre to look at, dressed in a cheap saree. Her hair was highly oiled in the usual rustic fashion and tied back tightly. There were traces of talcum powder on her countenance. She had obviously tried to spruce up her appearance for this meeting.
‘Sir,’ she addressed Denny diffidently.
‘Ah Sheeja, my dear lady. How are you,’ boomed Denny’s deep voice.
‘Sir,’ she stammered. ‘Forgive me. I will not be able to pay this month’s interest right now.’
‘What,’ hissed Denny, his face darkening. ‘Only three months ago you defaulted. I let you go lightly then but I’ll have to take serious action this time.’
Wilson could see that Denny’s wrath was an act but the poor woman was thoroughly intimidated. It appeared that she had taken a loan for sending her sister overseas to work. She had pawned some gold bangles without her husband’s knowledge and had hoped to pay and recover the ornaments quickly. She was obviously terrified of her husband’s reaction, which most likely would have been violent had he discovered her subterfuge. Like all married men on their island village, her husband’s favourite pastime included drinking away most of his hard earned money in the evening, after slogging on the mainland and on returning home in a drunken state, beating and forcibly having sex with his wife.
‘Denny Sir please,’ she faltered and continued, ‘if you could give me some more time…….,’ her voice trailed away.
‘No,’ he thundered, thumping his desk with violence. ‘Why don’t you tell your husband to help you?’
He waited for a moment as she remained silent and tearful.
‘There may be a way,’ he said softly. ‘But …. I don’t know. Maybe I’d better have a word with your husband.’
‘Please Denny Sir, I beg of you. I’ll definitely make it up next month.’
Denny did not reply, playing on the woman’s nerves.
‘Ok. Sheeja, there’s a way out. I’ll waive this month’s interest. Remember last time?’ he asked with a smirk, and continued, ‘this time it will be different my dear, very different. This time you will have to entertain my friend here,’ turning to Wilson who looked stupefied at the exchanges.
‘He is quite a handsome chap so you will not have a hard time,’ he said mockingly.
‘Well what’s your decision? We don’t have all day. Come on, make up your mind fast,’ said Denny impatiently.
She kept silent looking down at the floor.
‘I think we’ll take your silence to mean assent.’
He pulled Wilson aside and told him softly, ‘That door over there leads to a small room with a couch and a toilet. I use it occasionally to have a siesta in the afternoon among other things. I will leave the office now and send my old clerk away on some work. The office will be closed till evening so you can have your fill for the next few hours, dear boy. Don’t say I don’t look after my friends,’ he finished with a leer.
‘But hold on a minute Den. Hey man are you sure it’s ok? What happens if she ….’, his voice trailed off.
‘What happens if she what? Ha, ha ha,’ Denny threw back his head and laughed. ‘Come on man. Have a little spine. If she gets loaded, that’s her look out,’ he said coarsely. After all she’s married so there’s no hassle on that score. Say Willie, do you want it or not?’ he asked, sounding a touch testy. ‘I thought I was doing you a favour and here you are behaving like a wet rag.’
‘No no, Denny my dear friend. I do want it very much and am delighted that you asked me here today. I was only worried that she might kick up a fuss,’ Wilson hastened to explain.
‘She’ll make no fuss. Don’t you worry.’
Denny raised his voice to bring the apprehensive woman into the conversation, ‘Right then, I’m going out now for some work. You two have a chat. Don’t look so worried Sheeja my girl. Relax and have fun,’ he said with a derisive grin and went out.
Wilson woke up suddenly. The tiny room was in semi-darkness and rather oppressive with the smell of raw sex. He had his arms around the sleeping naked woman lying with her buttocks tight against his crotch. He was sapped of all energy, unable to even move for the moment.
‘Hell what a bomb!!’ he thought in wonderment, as he recalled the explosive hours of foreplay and repeated sex with this dowdy looking female. Her body had been like a parched desert absorbing every last droplet of fluid from his loins. He winced as he felt a dull ache in his utterly drained testicles. He had no recollection of ever being so completely satiated not even when he had slept with that painted up tart of a TV artiste who was well versed in her trade.
What dormant volcanic passions had he awoken he wondered, as he remembered how he had to threaten her initially, to disrobe. In a short while he had transformed his reluctant and unresponsive partner into a willing slave, ready to yield to his slightest wish as his expert tongue silkily caressed every nook and cranny of her body moistly. She had been totally naïve in sex despite having had a child. Her experience of sex had been a few painful moments on days that a drunken husband forced himself into her unwilling body.
He quietly lit a cigarette, inhaling the stimulating smoke and with deep satisfaction played back that fantastic session of foreplay and intercourse in his mind. He had truly surpassed himself, being totally uninhibited, secure in the knowledge that he was with a novice in sexual matters. He had taken his imagination to unknown heights letting his body and mind perform unrestrained. In the process he had surprised himself with his stamina and overpowering lust for this drab feminine form as he had taken the country Sheeja thrice in the space of five hours, driving into her with a rare energy and libido and riding her to the pinnacle of ecstasy several times. She had admitted shyly to him that this had never happened to her in her life. He could still feel the smell and taste of her secretions lingering in his nostrils and tongue.
‘Hell’, he thought. ‘I hope she will be able to carry herself properly when she takes the boat back to her island.’
The ring of the telephone interrupted his train of thoughts.
It was Denny wanting to know whether he could now get back to office.
“Willie boy how’s it going. You two finished your business? How was it?’
‘Pure gold Den! Just too marvellous to put into words. This will teach me never to look down upon these rustic types,’ he replied.
‘Hope you two haven’t stained my couch too badly’, said Denny with a laugh. “Put me to her. I just want to ask her how she feels.’
‘Sheeja my dear how was it,’ he asked teasingly.
She giggled softly.
‘I think I will have to charge you for the fun you’ve had. Anyway you’d better tidy up and get back home since it’s getting late,’ said Denny. “You can come some other time if you feel like more.’
As she left for the boat jetty, she knew that this was only the beginning of a new chapter in her life of drudgery. A chapter of forbidden pleasure, which she would keep returning to.
Denny was a small time businessman, trading in commodities but having a parallel stream of income from money-lending against gold or jewellery. These were given to ordinary semi-literate folk, overawed at the idea of approaching full fledged financial institutions. The rate of interest charged however, was exorbitant. Apart from a lucrative source of untaxed income (all transactions were in cash), it also provided him some fringe benefits by way of minor sexual favours from female clients who couldn’t meet the deadline for interest instalments.
On one unforgettable occasion, he managed to coerce a rustic woman, Sheeja, into having sexual intercourse with his dandified crony Wilson. The episode was memorable for both Wilson and the sexually naïve (despite being married) Sheeja. The incident also proved to be a turning point in Sheeja’s life as she started meeting Wilson occasionally, to have sex.
Wilson turned up at Denny’s office one day, around noon.
‘Den, I have an idea for a new channel of business. It’s completely different from your current line,’ he said.
‘You know Wil, this certainly is a coincidence. I have been thinking about expanding my business, maybe venturing into new areas,’ replied Denny.
‘Look why don’t we go out, have a couple of beers and talk this over lunch?’ Wilson suggested.
Over chilled beer and a delicious ethnic lunch of fish curry and rice, Wilson explained the nucleus of an idea sprouting in his head. The plan was to send Sheeja to train as a beautician. Once she finished training, a beauty parlour could be set up in an upmarket locality in town. Women in their part of the world, were coming out of their traditional way of life, wanting to improve their appearance and look more fashionable. The explosion of cable television and new-age films showing well groomed starlets in sexy attire, was having a major impact on the female audience. They discussed the new idea for sometime and decided to send Sheeja immediately for training, as a start.
Within a year a new beauty parlour opened up in one of the posh residential localities in town. The opening was conducted with a lot of fanfare and a popular cine starlet was flown in for the inauguration. Denny and Wilson remained in the background leaving Sheeja, who had transformed from a drab rustic woman into a competent, smart beautician with a natural flair for the work, to run the operation. Her drunken husband was by then in awe of this sophisticated (by his standards) creature who had suddenly undergone a bewildering metamorphosis to become a colourful butterfly from a mere caterpillar and who was bringing in more money than he could ever dream of. She had stopped this disgusting husband of hers from approaching her physically, getting her sexual appetite amply satisfied by Wilson. In a short span of six months, ‘Soft Skin’ became one of the most popular beauty parlours in the city.
Denny was quite happy with the way things were going but as always he was scheming up ways to make even more money. During one of his meetings with Wilson, he brought up a thoroughly unscrupulous idea to make a lot of money.
‘I have a new scheme to expand our business and hit the jackpot,’ he told Wilson. ‘But’, he continued, ‘it has a fair element of risk and involves getting Sheeja to play a crucial part.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem. She eats out of my hand these days,’ Wilson winked confidently.
‘Eats out of something else I would say,’ said Denny vulgarly. ‘And quite often too.’
‘Anyway, back to business Willy. I am thinking of including some specialized services for a very select, well-heeled clientele.’
Wilson was confused. ‘But we are already catering to well off women. We even have a few socialites among our customers. Are you thinking of opening another branch?’ he wanted to know.
‘That can come later. No, I am thinking of another very, very special line. There are a few extremely rich businessmen who are on the lookout for sex but with very discreet, ‘non professional’ ladies.’
‘But that’s getting into the brothel business,’ protested Wilson.
‘Listen to me carefully, my friend, without interrupting. My idea is to use each woman in an exclusive – that is, only once and, only for a single sex session with a client. This will provide a small, carefully chosen clientele, a unique classy service of exceptional variety.’
Denny was a member of several exclusive clubs and had close connections with immensely rich businessman.
Wilson was astounded and could not resist interrupting.
‘But how will you manage to have a constant supply of such women?’ he stammered.
‘Ah! There, my dear friend, you come to the nub of the scheme. Our talent pool of one timers will be married women from the middle class,’ remarked Denny calmly. ‘That way we get the services free.’
‘How will you get such ladies for the purpose,’ gasped Wilson.
‘That’s where our beauty parlour customers will come in. We will have an annexe where special beauty treatments would be done. I am planning to take the building behind the existing parlour on rent as well. That building faces a small side street. I will put the board of my business there, ostensibly a branch office, for our male clients to come in. That is the easy part. The difficult part is to get a lady willing to have sex with the client. For that, we will have to use a bit of treachery. Sheeja plays a vital role in that part of the operation,’ he stated with a sinister chuckle.
As Denny elaborated his plan further, Wilson felt a chill down his spine. This was playing with fire. There had been a hue and cry of late when several sex scandals had been unearthed, some of them involving powerful politicians. If there was ever a fuss, he could imagine the dire consequences. At the same time he couldn’t but admire his friend’s ruthless ingenuity. The potential rewards were enormous.
Sheeja was to assess customers visiting the beauty parlour. After finding out their background, she was to identify potential victims. The focus would be on fairly attractive women in their late twenties to the mid-thirties, married, preferably childless, husbands away, preferably out of the city or country. The more high profile and influential ones would be weeded out.
From normal beauty parlour small talk, the conversation would be skilfully turned to slightly risqué territory like film gossip, local sex scandals and such other seamy subjects. The degree of interest shown in this kind of talk would determine the rating of a potential victim – higher the interest, higher the rating.
Next, Sheeja would have to set about cultivating the customer, making her feel privileged in subtle ways. In a matter of a few weeks she would suggest a session of specialized beauty treatment in the annexe. Once the woman came in for the specialized treatment, she would be given a welcome herbal drink which would contain a pinch of ‘Andruku’. This was a little known herbal concoction produced in the Arhangay province of Myanmar which had miraculous properties of inducing high libido in women for a few hours with just a pinch. But since it was extremely deleterious to health if used regularly (would impair the kidneys), it was banned in most countries. Denny, with his trading contacts would get this smuggled into the country.
The woman would start feeling the effects of the potion very soon. At this point, Sheeja could start the treatment, which would be in the nude. The woman would be told that this was essential to be truly effective. Once in the nude, vibrators and other stimulators would start being used to excite the victim further. A hidden movie camera would surreptitiously film this nude session. A massage and wash would round off the so called treatment. They would then wait to see if these selected victims would again come for the special treatment.
Those who asked for a second session, would be noted carefully with some kind of discreet check on their background. The second session beginning with the drink, would involve more intimate things like a finger masturbation given by Sheeja and would also be filmed. This stage would be set for the tricky phase of the plan that of coercing the woman to have sex. The woman would be threatened with exposure of the nude pictures and coaxed into submission.
The final stage would then begin. It was agreed by both Denny and his friend that the sex sessions should only be during the day, which they felt was safer, preferably between 9 and 5. The fee planned to be charged was two hundred thousand Rupees (close to 5000 US Dollars) per session. The Annexe would have a suite, luxuriously furnished with all comforts fit for the exceptionally wealthy. Denny would then carefully select his list of potential customers and begin activation.. The woman victim would be asked to arrive in the morning around 9 to await the male client and the session could start with a deadline of 5 pm. Food and drinks would be provided on demand.
Six months later the plan was put to operation.
The Sting — The Devil’s Workshop
(Sameera Ali’s narrative)
I have always considered myself a very average person. A woman with averagely good looks, slightly plump with a fair (for an Indian) complexion. Born of a respectable, middle class Muslim family, I had a comfortable upbringing and a moderately good education. I took a degree in liberal arts and toyed with the idea of working but my family had other plans. I was married off to a well off man working in the Middle East.
My husband was a quiet person, conservative and serious. He did not take me to the Gulf since he did not have a family permit. He would however come on leave once in two years for a couple of months. I did not like the idea of staying with my in-laws in their small village so we took a small flat on rent in the city. By the time I was thirty, being childless, I had got used to living alone most of the time and managed to have a small circle of friends. My earlier ideas of working fizzled out as I had grown quite lazy. I enjoyed the easy going pace of late mornings, eating when I felt like, shopping, watching movies at the theatre often, TV programmes and regular kitty parties with my friends. In short, an idyllic life though slightly dull.
The bombshell dropped shortly before my thirtieth birthday shattering the routine monotony. A swanky beauty parlour had opened up in our part of town recently. I tried the place and found the service and quality good. It was run by a very pleasant woman called Sheeja. She had another side to her which I discovered too late.
After I had been using the place for a couple of months, Sheeja invited me to try a new beauty treatment and massage next door in their annexe. On entering the place, which was superbly equipped and furnished, she gave me a welcome herbal drink, which she said was good for the skin. The drink seemed a trifle insipid but I found a glow spreading inside me. She started the massage and treatment using tiny special vibrators. It was delightful and I had never felt more sexually aroused in my life earlier. She continued the treatment, slowly taking off my salwar and undergarments which she explained was necessary. It was a lovely treatment and I emerged from the parlour, glowing and the juices flowing. Sheeja cautioned me to be discreet about this since she wanted to only invite privileged customers for this special treatment. I was flattered that she considered me one.
The following week I telephoned Sheeja and fixed up another such treatment. I was again given the herbal drink which set my senses afire. I had to undress completely before Sheeja started. She was a superb in her work and towards the end I was surprised to find her fingers caressing and massaging my pubic region before sliding into my vagina. However the pleasure was such that I did not protest. In fact I enjoyed the masturbation thoroughly. When I got back home however, I was wondering whether it was right and safe. ‘Anyway this is the last such special treatment,’ I thought.
A week later, I received a small package by messenger. Wondering who it was from and what it contained, I opened it to find a video CD and a note from Sheeja. It asked me to view the CD and then telephone her. As I put the CD into the player and started playing it, my knees began to wobble and the ceiling appeared to spin. The damn woman had filmed my special beauty treatment sessions. I watched in horror as my naked body shamelessly writhed in pleasure to the buzz of vibrators and the finger masturbation. The treacherous woman had even recorded my voice.
I sat and thought for a while wondering what the payoff would be. Finally with no way out, I called her. She was sweet and syrupy. The secret was safe, they didn’t want any money blah blah. I cut her short and asked what she wanted. Her tone hardened and she bluntly came to the point. They (she and her partners) wanted me to go to the Annexe and entertain an important male client (she stressed the word important) the next day. I was to go, dressed attractively, in the morning and remain till around 5 pm. She kept promising that this was just a one time favour they wanted.
I was stunned by this demand of hers. On the verge of tears, I begged her not to do this but she refused to listen to my entreaties. She seemed to take a vicarious delight in the situation. (Much later I learnt that she was also a married woman, blackmailed into sex and then revelling in it, she joined the people who had ensnared her . She probably felt a perverse thrill in degrading another woman down to her fallen level.)
As I continued with my protests, she threatened to expose the film to the tabloids and sleaze websites. I had to finally agree. She kept repeating that this was a one time demand, and in assurance, mentioned that they need not give such a promise if they didn’t intend keeping it, with the power they had over me. She advised me to take a sleeping pill when I went to bed at night as they wanted me to feel fresh in the morning. She also warned me against taking any birth control medicine because the herbal drink would react negatively and cause bleeding in the uterus.
I took stock of the situation but could see no escape. My reactions were those of horror, panic and guilt. When I went in for a bath in the evening, I looked at my nude body critically in the mirror. Looking back at me was a moderately attractive woman with full, firm breasts and a slightly heavy waist. A clean picture untouched by any depravity whatsoever. I cursed myself again and again for allowing my lazy mind and body to fall prey to that She-Devil. The promise of a one time demand was the only thing that seemed genuine and I tried to comfort myself with this small crumb. Finally at night, I took a sleeping pill as ordered.
The next morning, I turned up with much trepidation at the Annexe or the Devil’s Workshop as I had by then begun to call it mentally. Sheeja whisked me inside and ushered me into a room where I hadn’t been before. It was a luxuriously appointed bedroom with a king sized bed and was right out of the movies. She quickly explained in very blunt terms that I had to sexually entertain the person she had mentioned about earlier and that any non co-operation on my part would lead to extreme reprisals. She pointed to a glass on a bedside table which contained the accursed herbal drink, which I refused. She gave a knowing smirk and asked me to suit myself and stepped out to welcome their guest. I could hardly breathe out of fear.
The door opened abruptly and in walked a flashily dressed man. In his late forties probably, he was dark skinned and rather heavily built, a slightly pock marked fleshy face with coarse features. He had ‘nouveau riche’ written all over, with his heavy gold bracelet, Rolex watch and silk shirt. Though probably greying, he had dyed his hair jet black. Much later I learnt that he was a prominent sea-food exporter. I could get the whiff of expensive after-shave mingling with smell of cigarette. He was the epitome of the type I despised and ridiculed in private with my friends.
He didn’t waste much time over pleasantries and after seeking my name in his rasping voice, moved swiftly into action. He enfolded me in a suffocating embrace and crushed his abrasive black lips on mine. I felt nauseated with the stink of cigarette, which I have always detested. I quickly made up my mind. If there was anyway I was going to survive the next few hours without becoming a mental wreck, I had to have that damned drink. I somehow managed to tell him that I needed the drink. He thought it was milk since the drink had a milky appearance. While he waited impatiently, I drained the glass. Sure enough as soon as the last drop went down my throat, I felt a warm glow over my breasts and pubis.
He wasted no time as he started kissing me hard again, his rough tongue opening my lips and entwining with mine, caressing my teeth, going to every corner of my mouth, his saliva mingling with mine. I had misjudged him. He certainly knew his business, in his own rather uncultured way with probably plenty of experience in pleasuring women. After kissing me for a length of time, he started to unbutton my blouse, at the same time taking off his shirt and then his trousers. Though throbbing with desire thanks to the drink and the prolonged deep kiss, I shivered at the sight of his throbbing penis as he peeled off his underwear. It sprang out from a thick bush of hair, dark, with the bulging, pinkish knob brushing the foreskin to the sides. Two large coal-blacks bags, full of its venomous ammunition, hung from its sides. It was like a wild beast, jumping out from some undergrowth, baring its fangs angrily before falling on its prey and tearing it to shreds.
My husband has a normal penis and I had imagined most males to be similar. But his was just a tame lapdog compared to this dangerous looking bull-mastiff. It was not so much the length but the girth, the mottled veins and the big egg-like pink head that made me tremble. This one would definitely rip my vagina to shreds, I felt certain, even though I was moist inside. He could not conceal his glee when my heavy firm breasts bobbed out of the bra, giving a wolfish leer, revealing nicotine stained teeth. The sight of my plump breasts with its light pink nipples and bushy pubis made his organ, slightly bent in shape, pulse, with the bulb taking a redder hue.
He made me lie down and open my legs as he dipped his head to my opening below. I had never before had oral sex and this really shocked me. I am not able to describe the next few minutes as his mouth and tongue played in my vagina like a maestro on a piano in a concert. I could hear myself squealing with pleasure. He moved to my breasts and his rough mouth was busy like a starved convict at a seven course dinner. His teeth and tongue worked on my plum like nipples as if he was eating lichi fruit. It was brutal though I did not feel the pain then. My breasts and nipples felt as if they were being mauled by a bear – with a difference – it was delightfully painful.
The monster of a penis was then held up to my face –a deadly loaded gun – to be greased before the action. I could get the slightly pungent male smell from it I had never sucked my husband and this was a unique initiation. I took it inexpertly in my mouth almost gagging when he thrust it deeper. Gradually he prodded me to suck and use my tongue on his bulb. He then pulled it away and asked me to part my legs to position himself in the classic posture of intercourse. The brutish member was carefully put on my vagina as he tried to move the bulb inside.
It just would not go in though he increased the pressure. I felt panicky. He said I was too tight even with my juices and enquired whether I had not had sex for a long time. My low-toned affirmative delighted him and he grunted and spat a large glob of slimy saliva onto his fingers which he rubbed into my vagina. Again positioning his straining animal, he parted my vulva as much as possible with his fingers pushing his member in simultaneously. Removing his hands and lying heavily on my body, he clamped his mouth on mine and the bestial organ surged angrily inside. A wave of pain hit me but I could not scream, with his tongue ferociously working in my mouth. I could sense a rip as my vagina stretched to its limited and gave way. Later I found traces of blood down there.
He was inside me now trying to burrow deeper. He placed his hands on my buttocks which had been kneaded to pulp earlier, and drew me closer pushing inexorably deeper. When he could go no more, he stopped and suddenly drew back. I arched my back at the shock of the reverse movement and he ripped inside again and again and again. I could hear the soft sounds of the springs in the mattress and our bodies, as his mouth sucked on mine with a squishy hiss as if he wanted to drain all the saliva while his member would replenish fluids from below.
I don’t remember how long it went on, this vicious battering of primeval lust. All I can remember is the feeling of indescribable lust, agony and rapture which I can never hope to experience again, as my body shattered into orgasm after orgasm. I could feel him crushing me remorselessly as if trying to fuse me to his body as his fiery penis splattered its thick seed into my womb and my vaginal muscles pulling the beast, deeply sucking in the semen by instinct, taking his penis into depths hitherto unknown. I wondered in a fleeting moment of rational thought whether his seed would germinate.
It was with a different mix of confusing emotions that I left the place at 6 in the evening
after he literally chewed and spat me out thrice, my debasement complete as he conquered every inch of my body and spirit. Sheeja gave me a sadistic smile of triumph as I walked out gingerly, nursing my ravaged but replete body.
‘We will not bother you again Madam but you can come back whenever you feel like,’ was her parting dart.
The body and mind had been scarred forever, changed from the demure unmarked housewife of that morning.
I felt certain that my body now was the breeding ground of a dreadful seedling.
Samira’s Narrative ……
After my grotesquely blissful encounter at Sheeja’s beauty parlour, I was both mentally and physically in a depressed state. For a few weeks I lay low, avoiding my friends, feigning illness.
To my horror, I missed my periods. What I had feared had happened. A pregnancy test confirmed the fact. In a quandary, I weighed my options. I could, of course have an abortion done secretly and nobody would be the wiser. On the other hand, I had always desired a child. It was by now obvious that my husband was impotent and would not be able to give me a child. If I had to retain this child, I would have to keep my husband in the dark and play my cards with cunning. Unfortunately, he was only due back after seven months.
I flew to the Middle East to spend a few days with my husband, citing loneliness. I managed to coax my husband to have sex with me though I must confess it was thoroughly unsatisfying after my recent experience. I have always felt that he was a trifle undersexed.
The important thing however was that I had now covered my tracks. A few days after my return, I announced that I had conceived. In due course, I gave birth to a baby boy who looked nothing like both my husband and me, which of course was not surprising. I was busy during those early months enjoying the pleasures of motherhood.
Physically I had filled out a lot more which of course happens after childbirth. However, by the time the baby was six months old, I started feeling restless. Try as I might, I could not but admit to myself that I had been altered forever by that dreadful beast-man. I had mixed feelings about him.
There were times when I could have cheerfully stabbed him to death. But generally, the very thought of him made me feel moist inside and an aching desire to be taken by him again. One evening the feeling threatened to almost choke me – it was unbearable. I was desperate to submit myself to him in every possible way.
I paid a visit to ‘Soft Skin’ the very next day. Sheeja greeted me with an oily smile and led me to a quiet corner, gushing all over me. She had come to know from someone that I had delivered a baby so she congratulated me and told me in an undertone that I ought to give her a treat for her help in getting me pregnant. I blushed and kept silent.
She then asked me whether I was ready for another session. I replied in the affirmative but told her that it would have to be with the same man. She told me to wait for a week while she fixed it up.
Early next week, she called me and told me that the person was away for a few days but if I was keen, she had another male partner. I was disappointed and told her that I would rather wait for him to get back. I could not believe at my own craving for having sexual intercourse with that uncouth man, at whom I would have not given a second glance under normal circumstances.
A few days later Sheeja called me and told me that the session with him had been fixed up for the following Tuesday (which was four days hence). Over the weekend I left my child with my in-laws at their village saying I needed a break for a couple of days. I could hardly wait for Tuesday, when I would further be dragged into the mire.
I reached the Annexe a little before nine trembling with desire and nervousness . Sheeja took me into the bedroom and gave me a glass of the herbal drink ‘Andruku’. This time I needed no prompting as I eagerly gulped it down. Sheeja went out winking at me and shortly thereafter, he walked in – the father of my illegitimate child, the man who had debased me completely.
The sight of him made me feel weak all over and I was embarrassingly wet inside. Again, there were no preliminaries as he enfolded me in a tight embrace and kissed me hard. I was his willing plaything this time, returning his kiss with ardour. He fumbled with my dress trying to quickly undress my upper portion to get at my breasts.
I helped him, smiling secretly to myself thinking of the wonderful surprise he was about to receive. My breasts (unlike our last encounter) was heavy with milk as I was nursing my baby. And it plentiful, unlike so many of my friends who complained of not secreting enough when they were nursing. I couldn’t wait for this sex subjugator of mine to start drinking the elixir welling in my swollen bosom. In his ferocity to get at them, he ripped my bra aside.
Grabbing at my left breast fiercely, making me wince in pain, his mouth roughly fastened on the nipple, sucking at it savagely. His eyes widened with amazement as the liquid squirted into his mouth. Totally aroused by my milk now, he attacked with his tongue and teeth taking turns on the nipples. It was an amazing feeling as I held his head tightly egging him on, almost wanting him to swallow my beasts (if it were at all possible). He drained my breasts soon, making guttural sounds in his throat as he bit and drank his fill.
Long after my milk ran out, he kept butting and sucking trying desperately to get some more like a calf at a cow’s udders. I had to finally pull him away forcefully, pleading, as I feared that he would chew them to ribbons.
He moved away impatiently signalling me to disrobe fully. Equally eager to give myself to his animal lust, I hurriedly undressed. In his grating voice he asked me whether I recently had a baby. When I blushingly revealed the truth, he was stunned and then … more turned on than ever, probably at the though of having sired an illegitimate child.
By the time I had taken off my rather damp panties, he was out of his clothes as well, his bulky beast straining at the lease, eager to unload the venom from its huge hanging sacs.
Making me sit on the bed, he knelt in front of my parted thighs and opened my vulva with his tongue. The next few minutes were indescribable as his tongue, lips and teeth played havoc with my G spot. He kept on and on, occasionally raising his mouth to kiss me and fondle my breasts.
Moaning and writhing as waves of pleasure overtook me, I slowly started feeling that my bladder was filling. As his tongue and fingers continued their ministrations the urge deepened and finally, like a dam bursting, it happened. It was definitely not urine which spurted as it was colourless. Later I learnt from him that it was my ejaculation. As it jetted out splashing on his face, he covered my vagina with his lips savouring the sex juice. All the pleasures experienced by me hitherto seemed insignificant when compared to the sensation I experienced then.
Wet with my love elixir, he moved his mouth to mine and kissed me passionately. I could hardly breath, so filled with the urge was I, as his tongue made love to mine frenziedly. I fell onto the bed on my back, dragging him on top of me as I grasped his brute, urging it closer, to drive into my wet and desperate sheath.
My lover, understanding my predicament, decided to waste no more time as he allowed my hand to place him at my entrance. His mouth, teeth and tongue continued to work furiously on mine as he penetrated me with one steady, long thrust. This time I was not as tight as I was when he had violated me brutally during our past (ripping my sheath making me bleed).
Childbirth and the intensity of my lust helped me accommodate his thickset monster with just a touch of difficulty. However I felt breathless as he impaled me. As he lay still savouring my soft feel, I wriggled gently wanting him to start his heavy thrusts. He reached his hands and savagely clutched my buttocks and ignoring my involuntary shriek started his hammer blows, each inward thrust taking him right to my core.
The softness of my body and the bed partially cushioned the pulverizing thrusts but even so, the cot groaned in protest. As for me, I thought that I would be a paralysed wreck after his onslaught ended. But it was pure bliss. No words can describe those ecstatic moments of complete subjugation to the controller’s desires. I was just a humble receptacle (in a state of mindless pleasure) to receive the master’s droppings.
My breath kept coming in short whimpering gasps in rhythm to his stroke, whenever he removed his mouth from mine. Harder and harder, deeper and deeper until I was sure that my uterus would be a battered wreck. Then, suddenly with his brute plunged in at maximum depth, he stopped and crushed me to him with his hands, in a suffocating bear hug.
His potent, life creating, creamy fluid targeted my womb like short bursts from a machine gun, generating spasms of climax in me like a person having a fit, the intensity of which almost knocking me out senseless. As he rested on (a thoroughly sated) me, for the first time during our sessions of sex, he began enquiring about me and my background.
It was late in the evening by the time we emerged from the love chamber. He dropped me home, curious to see the child fathered by him.
In a few months, he set me up in a nearby town – a sort of second home for him. We have three children out of our liaison. He has bought me a flat and has settled a decent amount for the family upkeep and visits us at least once a month. And funnily enough, I have no regrets whatsoever for all that has happened.