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My Temporary Maidservant

By: Mnhb



When I got back from the village, after Sunita's sister's wedding, I had to fly out almost immediately to Chennai on work. Before I left, I spoke to Bahadur and Sunita and let them know that they could extend their break by another week if they chose; both of them were happy to do so.

On reaching the Chennai office, I realised it was a fruitless trip because the problem which brought me there had in fact been resolved without my presence. I stayed on a day anyway, and then flew to the Mumbai office for another day and got back to Delhi by the middle of the week. I took the first flight out on Thursday morning and got to Delhi around 10:00. In Bahadur's absence, the office had sent another car to pick me up. I had the driver take me directly to the office where I spent a couple of hours before heading home.

When I got to the apartment, the door was unlocked. Surprised, but not unduly worried, I pushed open the door and entered my house, feeling a welcome sense of relief and comfort in the familiar surroundings. I dragged my luggage into the spare bedroom before walking into the large bathroom to relieve myself and generally freshen up. I had grabbed a sandwich at the office and had no pressing matters to occupy me now that I was home. I was planning to take a warm shower and relax for the rest of the afternoon.

As I pushed the bathroom door open, it met a soft obstruction and rebounded on its hinges. I heard a scream from behind the door which caused me some alarm but I instinctively held the door steady as I peered around it into the bathroom. There was a girl with her hand clamped against her mouth, eyes wide open and startled as she looked at me. Not knowing who she was, I apologised and walked back though the master bedroom into the living room.

I reached for the cordless phone and hit the button for my office. I spoke to my assistant in a rushed and hurried manner, asking who the hell was in my house and why had the keys been given to some stranger, and whether she knew anything about it. She listened silently, letting me vet. Then, softly and with considerable deliberation, she told me that the landlady had informed the office of her intention to send her housemaid every other day to keep the apartment clean since neither I nor Sunita were in town. I felt rather foolish but still berated the secretary for not letting me know when I was at the office earlier. She apologised but reminded me that she had been out during my short two-hour visit.

Putting the phone down I turned to go back and apologise again to the housemaid for my behaviour. She was standing in the doorway between my bedroom and the living room, holding a broom in one hand and wiping her brow with the other, using a fold of her saree. I walked towards her rather gingerly, but stopped a good ten feet away. I couldn't quite tell what her age was but I would have guessed around 30. She had on a maroon coloured blouse and a patterned pink saree. Under the hem of her saree, I saw the scalloped edge of a petticoat the same colour as her blouse. 

"Tumara naam kya hai?" I asked. She whispered her reply which I couldn't hear and made a gesture with my hand cupping my ear towards her, signifying that I hadn't heard. "Anita", she said, and I smiled at her in an attempt to make her a little more comfortable. Another Anita, I thought. "Tum ghar ka safai ke liye aaye ho?" I asked, desperately trying to use what little Hindi I had mastered over the years.

Anita nodded her head and said "Jee, main naukrani hoon". I said sorry again, using the English word, and then turned around to walk out on to the terrace. "Aap kyon sorry bol rahe ho; aap ka koi galti nahin." I smiled back at her again but continued towards the plants on my terrace. It was still January and the weather was almost perfect today; cerulean blue sky, the sun radiated a comfortable warmth, and there was a touch of chill in the shade. Perfect afternoon. I got myself a beer and settled on the chaise lounge outside.

When I went back in to get another can of beer, I didn't see the maid so I assumed she had finished her work and left for the day. The rest of the afternoon went by without incident; for dinner I went out to the hotel which housed my office, and retired fairly early. The next day was a holiday for some reason, thus allowing all schools and offices a long 3-day weekend. 

I had woken up early and jogged to the nearby market to grab a street breakfast of omelette and bread, along with a steaming hot glass of tea; something I did occasionally on Sundays but hadn't for some time after Sunita's arrival. I walked back home by about 8 o'clock; the winter fog was beginning to lift as the early morning sun rays penetrated through the night chill. Stripping off the sweat soaked tracksuit, I wrapped a towel around my waist while I brushed my teeth and readied for a shave in the heated bathroom.

As I rinsed my mouth and wiped it with the hand towel hanging on a rack, I heard the door bell ring. Not sure whether I should go to the door with a towel around me, I decided to ignore the summons and see whether the visitor was going to be persistent. I wasn't expecting anyone this morning, and wasn't keen to meet anybody. Splashing my face with warm water, I extracted shaving gel on to my palm and began to evenly spread it cross my stubble. With the running water now turned off, I heard the door open - it had been locked - and I immediately realised it was probably the maidservant who was cleaning the house in Sunita's absence. What was her name, again?

Anita...I remembered. I decided to ignore her and let her go about her chores. I had almost completed shaving when the bathroom door behind me opened softly and I saw Anita's face in the mirror, peering in with hesitant trepidation. As soon as she saw me, she said "maaf karna, maalik" and began to pull the door shut again. I called out to her, "Anita" but she either didn't hear me or was too embarrassed to come back in. I wasn't wearing anything other than the towel wrapped around my middle. I called again, "Anita", not sure why I was doing so.

Using the warm water to clean the remaining streaks of lather from my face, I pictured the woman and realised that she was quite beautiful in a rustic way. I wasn't sure why, but her looks were so obviously from rural India. Was I stereotyping? Probably. But I saw her as an innocent village girl working her way through the dirty urban society; uneducated and hence reduced to working as a naukrani in Delhi's elite upper class homes.

I hadn't seen her in the mirror for more than four or five seconds, but I found myself recalling the picture. It was a pretty picture. She had a dark complexion, large eyes, fairly thick eyebrows, smooth skin on her face, and a sharp noticeable jawline. On the previous afternoon during our brief encounter, I had noticed a scar on her neck and had briefly wondered what had caused it. Was it a knife cut that had healed over time? Was it just an eruption, like a boil, than had burst and then healed without medication?

This morning, she was wearing the same clothes she had on the previous day: maroon coloured blouse and a pink saree. She walked around the house barefoot, her slippers neatly placed just beside the main entrance door. Her hair was jet black; it may have been oiled but didn't look sticky or gooey. Her ears were delicate, and although half covered by hair drawn over them, small golden ear studs punctured the lobes, and an even smaller one in her nose.

I was getting mildly aroused as my mind recollected the servant's various features. Standing as I was in front of the mirror, contemplating her, I felt a gentle erection begin to push against the towel and rub against the wash basin. I stared into my eyes reflected in the mirror, then strayed across my chest and biceps, I looked at my face and the hair on my head. But I couldn't get the girl out of my inner vision. I tried to recall the swell of her breasts, firm and round, encased snugly in the tight fitting blouse. But I wasn't sure if I had actually observed her or was just adding fantasy to my feelings.

And then the door opened again. I looked into the mirror and saw her standing there, framed in the doorway, the bright lights of the bathroom illuminating her face and front; her curves cast in deep shadow. And she was staring back at me. I wondered if she could see my slight hard-on tenting the towel, but figured it wasn't in her field of vision. "Tum bahut sundar ho", I said, not knowing how or why I uttered those words. She looked bashful and bent her neck, staring at her feet silently. I watched her reflection and let my eyes wander over her body, knowing that she was not looking at me now.

Yes, her breasts were perfectly shaped behind the brownish-red colour of her blouse. I couldn't see the outline of a brassiere and assumed she wasn't wearing one. The pallu of her saree was thrown across one shoulder and the end tucked into the waist. The blouse was a short one, with barely a centimetre below the underside of her breasts. She wore her saree a little lower than Sunita so that a large swathe of midriff was visible. Smooth dark skin that I now desperately wanted to touch.

I turned around to face her, no more concerned about the burgeoning erection tenting my towel. The dark crater of her puckered navel was centred on her naked belly. She still didn't look up, studiously contemplating her feet. I looked down and saw a ring around one of her toes, and an anklet around a very dainty ankle. "Tumhe nanga dekhna hai, mujhe", I said bravely. She looked up suddenly, and I saw a gleam in her eyes. Had I crossed the line? Was she angry? Would she raise a scene now? Maybe she would scream and go running out of the apartment. I lost my erection faster than I could have imagined.

But she just stood there, looking me in the eye without saying a word. She was about 5'3" tall, a whole head shorter than I was. I walked up to her, taking the few steps very slowly. She didn't move away from the door and there was no way I could walk through to my bedroom without touching her. I kept walking, turned sideways and tried to sidle past her through the door. But she just stood there, so I stopped and turned to face her. She turned as well, and we now stood facing each other, our backs against opposite door frames. The top of her head was level with the bottom of my chin as we stood there, still and unmoving, wondering what the next move was going to be.

I reached out and touched her face. Anita tilted her head and rubbed her cheek gently against my palm in a gesture that almost suggested she was going to purr like a cat. My fingers stroked her jaw as I traced a line from below one ear all the way to the other. They brushed past her lips and I felt a dewy wetness to the soft texture. I took a step forward and closed the gap between our bodies, my bare chest feeling the texture of her saree. I lowered my hand from her face and placed both of them on her waist, feeling the smoothness of her chocolate complexion.

There was so much skin for my palms to traverse: from the delicate curve of her waist to the swell of her hips before the saree encased the res of her. My fingers brushed past her navel as they went across the flatboard stomach; firm, without an iota of fat. Behind her, I felt the ridges of her spine run from under her blouse down the curve of her back before it disappeared into the saree and petticoat. All this while, she stayed almost completely steady; only her head was thrown back against the door jamb, her eyes tightly shut, her succulent lips parted and glistening, and a slight sweat breaking over her brow.

My erection was now getting obvious and I thought that the maidservant would certainly soon react; I only wondered what her reaction would be. But surely, she had let me already take considerable liberties. I brought one hand carefully to her front and kept feeling the skin of her midriff. Then, gradually I moved upwards and let my palm and fingers caress one swollen breast, feeling the relatively rough texture of her cotton blouse. Within seconds, I felt the hard protrusion of her erect nipple. I looked down to see the abutment pressing against the cloth and I took it between my fingertips and fondled it.

With my other hand I cupped her left breast and rubbed till I found her other nipple, equally hard and protuberant. Anita let out a gentle sigh as her head was thrown back further against the door. I leaned in closer to her and my cock pushed out horizontally against the towel, the hardness now pressing into her. Inadvertently, the two ends of the bath towel parted, although still knotted around my waist, and I knew my penis had worked its way out. I felt the free falling folds of her saree rub against my hardness as I pushed myself against her.

I took her left hand and drew it towards my erect phallus. At the same time I lowered my head and ran my mouth against her neck, suddenly feeling the smooth aberration of the scar against my lips. As I licked her neck, I felt her small hand take my rod and pull at it. She stroked me, pulling back the foreskin and letting the heated red helmet uncover itself. Her fist didn't encircle my manhood completely, but her grip was now firm. As she tugged, my hips began moving rhythmically forward and back, each thrust digging deeper into the folds of her saree.

I raised my hands to her blouse and my fingers found the hooks that held it together instead of buttons. I started to unsnap them and in my haste, I think I tore one apart. But I was now in a state of fervour, not knowing how exactly I had got there. I had now gone past the point of no return and I hoped fervently that the maid would not back down from here. Pulling apart the two flaps of her blouse, I started to push them off her shoulders but couldn't get them beyond her upper arms because she was not letting go of my cock which she now had firmly gripped in one hand.

Anita was not wearing a bra. Her breasts, now freed from the confines of her form fitting blouse, were firm. There was no sag. They stood unyielding and proud; my hands were only just able to cup them completely and the nipples rubbed hard against my palms. I lowered my head and sucked one nipple into my mouth, fingers playing with the other. The servant's moans were now a lot louder and her hand-job getting more furious with every passing moment.

As I sucked on her nipples, first one then the other, I kept wanting more but was never sure how fast I could go, fearing that she may change her mind. She was now mumbling in Hindi, words that I couldn't understand. "Nahin bhaiya, maalik, aur mat karo." Her nipples were exceedingly hard now; centred in large dark aureoles. Taut and almost black, they were now swollen with arousal; even her breasts seemed to have grown somewhat in size. Small pimple like bumps were raised on the dark halo around the nipples, now upright at almost half an inch in size.

I brushed the tips of her nipples with my tongue, occasionally taking them between my teeth and biting down gently. My hands moved from her breasts to her neck and her face; they wandered ceaselessly across any bare skin I could find, never seeming to get enough. Now splayed across her back, I tried again to strip her of the blouse. This time she let go of my engorged member and let her arms drop to her sides. I pulled the blouse off her shoulders and down past her arms till she extracted her hands from the sleeves. Letting the garment drop on to the bathroom floor, I now held her tightly, pulling her hard against me. Her hands found my phallic mast hard and pressed against my belly; her fingers pulled at the hair around my crotch.

Sometime during these manipulations, my towel had unwound itself and lay pooled around both our feet. I was stark naked against her, her breasts flush against my chest. I lowered my hands down her back till they rested against her buttocks; firm and young as I clamped them and drew her towards myself. I massaged her arse through the folds of petticoat and saree as she pushed herself against my steely manhood, her hands both trying to grip my shaft. My mouth found hers and our lips mangled each others; my tongue slipping deftly into her mouth as it washed around her. I felt her tongue push against mine and thrust into my own mouth; sashaying around in a mind numbing storm.

My hands went lower till they were absolutely straight down her length; bending my body slightly I felt my palms almost touch her knees. I gripped her saree and started pulling it up as I straightened myself. "Nahin sahib. Maalik. Aur mat karo kuch. Yeh theek nahin hain, bhaiya." All I understood was bhaiya, brother, but ignored her pleas. As I pulled up her saree, and with it the petticoat, my knuckles ran along the taut smoothness of her legs. I pulled the clothing all the way up to her hips and then clasped her thighs as I let go the dress to fall over my hands. I felt her muscles and the back of her thighs; then raised my hands to grip her taut rump, the tips of my fingers pushing into the crevice between the two perfectly shaped fleshy parts of her body. She wore no underwear!

Suddenly, and quite without warning, she pulled away. As the door frame was behind her, she side-stepped and moved into my bedroom. As I wondered what exactly was happening, the servant bent her back and brought her face flush against my hot erect phallus. Holding it again in one tight fist, she opened her mouth and drew me into her. I felt the warm wetness of her mouth engulf the searing heat of my cock; for a moment I almost lost my balance because of a strange sense of vertigo. I looked down and saw the top of her head bobbing as she drew my stiffness in. She moved her head up and down the entire length in easy strokes, the fingers of one hand cupping my testicles as she gripped the base of my penis with the other.

I looked down at Anita, the hair on her head now slightly astray, her back completely bare. As she sucked on my penis, I tried to lower one hand under her and grip the swaying pendulum breasts. Not able to do that comfortably, I reached over her back and got a grip of her arse. As she kept moving, I began to draw her saree upwards, inch by inch with every mouth stroke of hers, my fingers pulled the cloth upwards till I had uncovered her rump. I ran the fingers of one hand into the crack between her buttocks and then recalled that she was not wearing any panties. No underwear beneath her petticoat.

That thought had the effect of further hardening my shaft if that was possible. I was now thrusting my pelvis and trying to push myself deeper into her mouth. I could feel the engorged tip touch the back of her throat as she loosened her facial muscles and let me pulverise her face. I felt a stirring deep within my insides, a roiling of the seas, an eruption in the making. But I was unable to slow the pace, not thinking that this might all end suddenly if I blow my load deep in her throat. Almost as though she knew, Anita pulled her mouth away from the ever stiffening rod and stood up straight again.

I lowered my head to take her nipple, in fact as much of her breast as possible, into my mouth. My body was extremely high strung at the moment and there was a viciousness beginning to take over. I had begun to sweat despite the fact that the room was not overly heated. Once again, this time with far less hesitation, I bent and grabbed the folds of her saree and pulled it all the way up to her belly. She was no more leaning against a door so I had to hold her to support her as well. I pushed a leg between hers and tried to part her legs. She seemed to understand and accept the fervent command because she parted her feet and stood as though waiting for me to enter her.

I bent my knees quite low, given how short she was compared to me, and let the tip of my erect upright cock push against the lips of her cunt. She was soaking wet and I easily slipped into her. The first four inches of my rampant manhood slid smoothly into her juicy entrance before she squealed what sounded like a desperate appeal to stop. Her eyes were shut tight, but her mouth was wide open and I pushed more gently now. Another inch went into her, then another. And with one final heave, I pushed my entire length deep into her pussy.


My Temporary Maidservant



She screamed. Her fingers clawed on the muscles of my shoulders as her vice-like grip dug into my flesh. She moaned. She asked for more. Her resistance was gone. I thrust into her, then withdrew like a sword from its sheath before driving in again. With a solid grip on her arse now, I began a rhythmic movement going deep inside her, then drawing myself almost out to the edge, then back in again. Finally, holding her by the haunches, I straightened up and lifted the maidservant off the ground. With my arms, I lifted her up and lowered her in a continuous fluid motion on to my cock. I penetrated her greatest depth, the ridges and veins of my phallus rubbing against the sides of her vaginal canal and stimulating her swollen glans.

Carrying her as she sat on my cock, I walked into my bedroom. Her arms were tight around my neck and I felt her teeth bite into the muscles above my clavicle. In fact, I was sure she had drawn blood but my body was in full control of my mind at that moment. In fact my body, in its over heated state, was effectively out of control.

I pulled the woman off my thickness and lowered her on to the bed. I then stripped her of her saree, meeting no resistance from her at all. I found where the folds had been tucked in and ripped them out, pulling and unwrapping the yards off her body. Then, yanking the draw string of her petticoat, I pulled it down past her hips and threw it into one corner of the room. She lay naked, her knees bent as the legs folded over the edge of the bed, her feet barely touching the cool marble surface of the floor. A thick triangular bush of pubic hair guarded the entrance to her vaginal cavity; her firm round breasts proudly stood over her chest, hardened nipples at the centre of near black aureoles.

I gripped my cock in a tight fist and stroked it as I stared down at the beautiful rustic wonder in front of me. I wanted to take her in every conceivable orifice. Her eyes were still shut, her lips still a mite parted. She raised her arms and folded them under her head. Her hair had come undone and the black luminescence was splayed across the bed-sheet under her head. Black hair bunched in her armpits, the sight of which had a surprisingly erotic effect on me. I kept stroking my penis as I stared down at her body.

After what seemed like a fairly long time spent in just ogling her wild and captivating body, stroking myself continuously, I walked up to her and stood between her widely parted thighs and legs. Holding my raging tool in one hand, I lowered the other to the overgrown bush of pubic hair and stroked the undergrowth. Hidden below were the succulent folds of her nether lips; my fingers parted them, running a line through the sticky overflowing wetness till I felt the hardened tip of her clitoris. Her body convulsed at the first touch, bucked high into the air as the pink protuberance was grazed by my fingertip.

I stroked her clit for a while, watching her body throw from side to side. My fingers ran along the inside of her thighs and I saw fluids stream out of her hole, trickling along the soft skin and pooling on the sheets below. When I pushed a couple of fingers into her cunt, she tried to clamp her legs together but I was standing between them and felt the strength of her clasp. I bent down, kneeling on the cold floor and brought my face in line with her soggy wet hairy pussy. I could smell the sex emanating from her; a sweet-sour fragrance and I knew what the taste would be like.

Bending forward till my nose was amidst the deep undergrowth, my lips found the entrance to her grotto. I rubbed my lips against her wetness, keeping my mouth closed. I stroked her most sensitive erogenous areas with the hard bone of my chin, rubbing along the length of her cunt. Her screams were getting louder but it didn't register with me; I didn't really care who may hear them. Then I slipped my tongue out and tasted the uniqueness of this woman. A mix of fruit, both sweet and acidic, fragrant and volatile, perfumed and wild. I sucked her juices into my mouth, drew her lifeline into mine. As I sucked, I pushed a finger into her, gently rubbing. Her thighs gripped my head in place, never easing up, almost pulling me towards her. Then I felt her hands in my hair, gripping tight, pulling me down against her cunt. I drank.

She convulsed. Her body jerked upwards as her first orgasm tore threw her body. My head was in a vice as the smooth firmness of her inner thighs held me in place. Her fingers tore through my hair as her body fell back. Then again, her torso threw itself upwards, taking my face along with it, still clamped between her thighs. For a moment of crescendo, we stayed suspended in the air, her body lifting high off the bed with my head between her thighs, her hairy bush wet and soggy against my face. Till we crashed down on the bed again.

And a third time; once again my face flush against her pelvic region, my mouth open and sucking in the fountain of juices bursting out of her cunt, my hands desperately trying to grip her arse so I could anchor my existence to her dominance. Fluids poured out of her, gushing into trails that streaked down her flesh towards her arsehole, flowing from vagina to rectum before dribbling on to the soaked bed sheets. Holding her buttocks firmly, I slipped a finger into her anus as her body settled down from the crashing orgasms she had experienced.

She lay exhausted on my hand, barely realising that I had a finger inside her arsehole. I extracted it and stood up again. My cock was still hard but it had reached a state of engorgement where the hardness was almost permanent, at least for the foreseeable future. I stood up with my erection all too evident as I saw Anita return to a state of near normalcy. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and I knew what the day held in store. I saw the maid slip into a somnambulant state and decided to let it ride for a while.

Walking to my wardrobe, I pulled out a pair of jeans and slipped into them, pushing my still engorged penis under cover with some difficulty. Pulling on a vest and a jersey, I walked to the guest room and took a duvet from there and went to cover Anita with it. Let her sleep for a while, or for as long as she wanted. Or needed. I would handle my blue balls for the moment.

I walked out on to the terrace; the sun had banished the early morning fog so I pottered around with the plants for about half an hour before deciding I wanted to go and take a shower, my ablutions having been interrupted in the morning. When I walked towards my bedroom, I saw that the woman had left. The duvet was neatly folded on one end of the bed; there was no sign of her. I shrugged off my disappointment and proceeded with my shower.

Refreshed, I pulled on my jeans again, ignoring any underwear. I then worked at my desk for about an hour, finishing some work-related correspondence and some reading that I had been postponing for a number of days. I though of Sunita and missed her, wondering how she was and when she would return. I expected her to be back with Bahadur on Monday morning. It was now Friday.

It was nearing 12:00 noon but I wasn't particularly hungry so I pulled a can of beer out of the refrigerator and went back out on to the terrace. I thought of the maidservant as I sipped the chilled beverage, relaxing on the chaise outside. Visions of her dusky dark complexioned body floated in front of my eyes. I had this urge to photograph her, or maybe even film her. Wondering where my Canon camera or Sony video-cam were, I thought about how I would ask her whether she was willing to pose for me. Perhaps if I offered her some money, she may be willing. Still hoping that she might return, I walked into my bedroom in search of my photographic equipment.

I had used the video last about three months ago, and now found it discarded on the top shelf of my wardrobe. Taking it out of the case, I was surprised that the battery still had almost an 80% charge. I took it out on to the terrace garden and idly filmed some of the flowers and part of the skyline beyond. Nothing exciting; just fooling around with it.

I went in to get another beer from the fridge. While I was popping the can, I heard the front door open and saw the maidservant framed against the lit-up lobby outside. "Mai aun andar?" she asked if she could come inside. I nodded silently and walked out again, letting her know that I was somewhat miffed at the way she had disappeared earlier. She followed me to the terrace and stood somewhat embarrassed against the frame of the glass sliding doors. Head hung low, she absentmindedly stroked an ankle with the other leg, her fingers clasping and unclasping as she mumbled an explanation.

"Mujhe Vimla malkin ke ghar jana tha", saying she had gone to Mrs. Vimla Kapoor's residence - the lady who lived on a lower floor; the one who had helped me find my current apartment. I told her that she could have informed me, instead of having left without a word. "Sorry bhaiya, mujhe maaf kar do", she apologised. I looked up at her and she slowly raised her head to look me in the eyes; I let my glare linger for a while before allowing my facial features to relax, but I didn't smile. I still pretended to be angry so I turned away from her and sat down on the garden chair, facing out towards the skyline.

"Maaf kar do, please" I heard her whisper after a few minutes. Although I hadn't heard her bare feet move, she had walked up silently to where I sat and I could now hear the faint rustle of her saree right next to my ear. I relented after a minute and raised my arm towards her without looking up, my palm open and inviting her to clutch it. I felt her fingers delicately move into my hand which I clenched shut, gripping her by the wrist. Pulling her forward, I led her to come in front of me so I could see her face.

Her eyes were glistening and a single streak dribbled out of each eye where the teardrops had run. I still held one hand of hers but she raised the other one to her face, wiping away the wetness from her face. I stared at her for a while and then smiled gently, letting her know that all was forgiven and she should stop crying. I then said that there was a video camera lying on top of the fridge where I had placed it when extracting a beer; "jao! le ke ao" I instructed her to bring it for me.

She came back and handed the gadget to me; I pulled out the viewing screen and pointed the lens towards the flowers, playing with the zoom and wide-angle, testing the lighting, shooting a minute of mindless shots. Anita was looking at me curiously; she seemed to know it was a camera but the quizzical look on her face suggested that she wasn't too familiar with the item. "Bhideo camera hai?" she asked, and I confirmed that yes, it was a video camera. "Aao, dekho", I asked her to come and take a look.

She came around and stood behind me as I sat in the chair, the camera pointed out towards the rest of the terrace. She leaned over the backrest and brought her face very close to mine, peering at the screen that framed the scene in front. I pointed at the single button for shooting film and said "isko dabane sey, movie ban ta hai". By pressing this button, you can film a movie - saying that I pressed the shoot button and panned across the terrace, then moved to capture the distant skyline. Having filmed about 30 seconds of that, I pressed the button again to stop the process and told her "Phir se dabao aur picture band ho ja ta hai".

I then turned my head to look at her face barely an inch away from me; she angled her head and our lips were almost touching. I made no move whatsoever; instead I asked her if she wanted to shoot anything. She took the camera very gently from my hand and pointed it at my face; then moved backwards presumably so as to capture a wider angle. I noticed her finger depress the shoot button; she held the camera very steadily for about 10 seconds before walking back further and lifting the camera towards the flowers. After another 5 seconds or so, she started walking towards the front of the terrace but kept the lens pointed at my face. I smiled, then waved at her, picked up my beer and took a sip; just trying to give her some animation.

After a minute or so, she started back towards me and I saw her press the button to stop filming. She had learnt very swiftly. When she handed the gadget to me, I asked her to come around and look at the screen again. I quickly rewound to find the clip she had made and played it back for her. She was overjoyed at this; she giggled first, then laughter rang out - a delectable sound of glee. I looked at her face and saw how happy she was at the result of her first film. Flinging her arms around me in a sudden show of affection, she kissed me on the cheek. But then, as though she had suddenly realised that this display of familiarity may not be reciprocated, she stood upright and apologised.

Once again, head hung low, she moved away from me and stood about 10 feet away, expecting some form of reprobation. Instead, I pointed the camera at her and started filming. When she realised what i was doing, she turned away and said "nahin malik, mera picture mat lo". I asked her why and she said she was too bashful; "sharminda" was the word she used.

I kept the camera pointed at her till she turned to face me, giving up her objection quite quickly. In fact in less than a couple of minutes she took to the lens like a fish to water, a little shy perhaps but willing. I realised how much the camera loved her; she looked very appealing on the tiny screen and I wondered if I could brave my way into asking for more. "Pallu ko thoda side mey karo", I gestured, asking her to push the pallu of her saree to the side instead of it covering her entire front. She didn't react to my request, so I repeated it.

Anita seemed a little uncomfortable suddenly but I kept staring at her, appealing with my eyes that she push the fabric aside. Then, very slowly, she raised a hand to the pallu and pushed it sideways so that it rose from her hip and then curved around the swell of her firm breast. This resulted in my now being able to see a lot more of her flat abdomen, the deep ring of her navel, and the swollen breasts encased in the form-fitting blouse. And most exciting, the deep cleavage between her breasts. I used the zoom function on the camera to capture these close up, before moving up to her face.

Although I was concentrating on capturing this rustic beauty on film, I was also aware of my penis shifting as it uncurled towards a less dormant state. Not wearing any underwear, the friction between rough denim and rising erection was doing nothing to calm me down. I looked at the maid and ventured "blouse ko thoda khol do", wondering if she would comply and open up her blouse. "Nahin!" she exclaimed. "Koi dekh lega". With some hope I thought her only concern was that someone from a neighbouring terrace, or somewhere, may see her. So I said, "koi nahin dekh sakta"; nobody can see, and I gestured waving one hand in a long sweeping arc suggesting that there were no houses overlooking us. But she didn't seem convinced.

"Anita, achcha thoda sa hatao saree ko, zyada nahin", I appealed, willing her to shift the cloth a little bit only. Very tentatively and gingerly, she took the edge of the saree border and shifted it about six inches to her side so that it revealed the swell of one breast but not the other. I saw only a hint of the crevice between her boobs and my eyes lingered on what little skin I could see of her neck and chest. The blouse was fairly low cut but not vulgarly deep; there was also only about an inch-wide of fabric below the moulded breast, patterned as a border similar to the edge of her sleeves and neckline.

I smiled at her, trying to stop her from being overly self conscious; she smiled back at me coyly, a tentative parting of her lips. I put the camera down on the ground next to me and beckoned her towards me. She walked forward slowly and came and stood on front. I parted my thighs, took both her hands in mine and drew her closer. As I sat upright, her breasts were in front of my face and I breathed against them, wrapping my arms around her torso. I felt her raise her hands and place them on my head, her fingers toying with the dark long black curls of my hair.

I looked up at her and saw a gleam in her brown eyes; her jaws were slack and relaxed. I raised my hands to her midriff and felt the smooth texture of her taut skin; almost immediately I felt a shiver run through her and my fingers actually sensed the goose pimples that had burst momentarily over her body. Raising one hand to her saree, I drew it completely to the side so that it draped from over her right shoulder diagonally across to the left side of her body, disappearing around her hips. Her cleavage was now an inch from my face, deep and dark, vanishing into the neckline of her blouse. I pushed my face forward and kissed her chest, letting the tip of my tongue run delicately along the cleavage.

Her fingers gripped my hair tighter and imperceptibly pulled me closer to her body. The warmth of her cleavage contrasted with the coolness of the smooth rounded surface of her breasts against my cheeks. With my nose and mouth buried between her twin globes, I let my hands wander down her shank and legs till my fingers felt her bare feet. "Bhaiya, yeh kya kar rahe ho? Mere paon mat chuo!", She stepped away very suddenly and looked down at my face with some consternation, having reacted quite vehemently to the fact that I had touched her feet. I knew this was the proverbial caste system, or maybe the gender bias, which forbade a higher class person from touching the feet of someone lower down the social ladder. And certainly, a man touching the feet of a younger woman was anathema.

I got up silently and walked back into the house without saying a word to the naukrani. I knew she was not to blame, but this decadent and archaic mindset that pervaded the social ethos of this great country often got under my skin. For a moment after entering the dark interiors of the apartment, I was blinded as my eyes adjusted from the brightly lit exterior. I tried to forget the recent episode outside; walked to the fridge and took out some stuff to make myself a sandwich. Cheese, ham, lettuce, bread, pickles ... and another can of beer. Standing at the kitchen counter, I hurriedly ate my sandwich and washed it down with most of the Heineken.

After rinsing the plate, and putting back the ingredients into the refrigerator, I turned around to see that the servant girl had once again come into the living room from the terrace. She had brought the camera inside with her and was placing it gently on a side table. Then she drew the sliding doors together and pulled the curtains shut. A table lamp in one corner had been left on all morning, and was now the sole source of light in the room. She had pulled the drape of her saree back over her torso, and now stood silently and demurely in the dimly lit room, not having moved an inch.

I wasn't certain what to do next so I just stared her; she was looking down fixedly towards the floor and I felt a strange tension building up around us. As my eyes adjusted fully to the new luminescence, I once again observed the fine and beautiful features of the girl in front; the sharp jawline and the dainty neck, the swell of her boobs and the narrow waist, and the saree cascading down her hips to her feet below. Memories of the morning came into my head and I felt the familiar stirring in my groin.

Gulping down another swig of the beer, I placed the can on the counter top and walked around it and on to where Anita stood. Gripping her wrist, I pulled her along as she wordlessly followed me to the housekeeper's room. Fleetingly, I thought of Sunita, my housekeeper who was on a short vacation in her village. Pushing open the door to her room, I saw the neatness with which it was always maintained. On a side table stood some toiletries like creams and other unguents, a set of bangles, and a notebook. The curtains were slightly parted so there was some natural light streaming in.




My Temporary Maidservant



The temporary maidservant followed me into the room obediently, not a trace of resistance from her side. Although this wasn't a large room, and with the bed occupying a substantial amount of space there was still enough space to be comfortable in. I dragged Anita rather severely, pulling her first towards me and then pushing her roughly against a wall. She stood with her back to the wall but still seemed to be looking down at her feet.

I wasn't feeling gentle towards her at all, so I did not touch her hair or her face. Instead, I grabbed the drape of her saree and yanked it hard; her body jerked when the edge that was tucked in to the waist tore loose. Throwing the pallu aside for the moment, I grabbed Anita's blouse-encased firm breasts and mangled them in my palms, feeling the nipples harden almost immediately behind the fabric. I wondered if that was an involuntary reaction or whether she was sexually aroused ... and had been all this while. As I rubbed my palms against her boobs, I also realised how tightly and snugly enclosed they were in the perfectly fitted shape of the blouse.

In the faint light I could actually see the protuberant shape of her nipples, centred in the wonderful roundness of her knockers; unable to resist, I lowered my head and drew one of them into my mouth. Holding the small hardness between my front teeth, I bit down slowly till I felt her body arc upwards probably in pain but also with some brutal pleasure. With the tip of my tongue I wet the cotton fabric on and around the nipple so that the cloth remained almost a mere figment of the imagination. With the thumb and forefinger of my left hand I pinched her other nipple equally harshly. The girl remained compliant, the only movement coming from the severe bent of her body as her breasts and abdomen curved away from the hard wall behind while her feet stayed rooted against it.

Standing back momentarily, I stared down at her with my hands pinning her shoulders against the wall. I shoved my pelvis forward and jammed her buttocks against the wall as well. Then I took both her breasts in my hands and manhandled them till I saw tears well out of her eyes. Her nipples were still hard as I started undoing the clasps that held her blouse in place. When I had opened three of the four hasps that fastened her garment, I pushed one hand down the blouse and scooped out one large breast so that it was freed of the clothing and stood proudly bare. Grabbing the firm contour of flesh in one hand, I continued to mangle her one tit roughly. Once again lowering my head, I sucked the nipple into my mouth and lashed it with my tongue.

Stepping back again, I put my hand into her blouse and pulled out the other luscious breast so that they were now both outside her dress with only one clasp holding the lapels of her blouse together. That had the effect of propping up her proud boobs although they were so firm, they didn't need a prop. I took them both in my hands and mashed them together, squeezing hard; I actually wanted her to feel some pain but was unaware of any logical reason. There was a heat being generated in my body on account of a deep anger mixing with torrid lust; it was like a venom flowing in my bloodstream.

Grabbing both her orbs in one large palm, I used the other hand to pull her saree up along the silken smoothness of her dark skinned legs and thighs. Grabbing the firmness of her thigh, I gripped it in a vice-like hold as I pushed my body hard against her. Her saree and underlying petticoat were now bunched in multiple folds around her abdomen, and my body pressing against her held them in place. I lowered both my hands down to her thighs and stroked them forcefully, seizing the unyielding flesh in my grip, stoking along her shank.

Still in my jeans, my cock was hard and upright, the thickness ridging its length across the denim cover. I pushed the bulge against her as I took one hand towards the inside of her thigh and pinched sharply; her body convulsed and jerked forward, her lips parted as a small scream of pain emanated from her mouth. My hand strayed to the inside of her other thigh and I pinched there as well; this time she howled out loud but that didn't dissipate the raging madness which was overtaking me now.

As my hands ran along the insides of her legs, I could feel wisps of coarse pubic hair graze the back of my palm. I cupped the thick hairy undergrowth and marvelled at the density that shrouded her genital area, guarding the entrance to her vagina. My fingers travelled through the forest of hair and I could feel the sopping wetness that seemed to have engulfed the region. Plying my fingers at the edges of her cunt, i pressed hard against and around the parted lips till I felt her clitoris fully exposed and swollen. Rubbing the knob not too gently, I felt Anita's body shudder against mine in small seismic judders as she gasped for breath in staccato heaves.

I wrapped my left arm around her buttocks and slid three fingers deep inside her cunt, twisting them inside like a slow drill oscillating in the mucous wetness. Bending my fingers upwards I searched for the soft spot that would spiral her into a drowning orgasm, my thumb still pushing and rubbing the elongated clit. I pushed my fingers harder now, slipping almost my entire hand inside her as my fist pulverised her. With my other hand, I found the puckered entrance of her anus and slipped a finger inside, drawing her fluids in to lubricate the arsehole.

Her breathing ratcheted up, her body began to convulse uncontrollably as she thrust her torso forward; her arms were around my neck drawing me hard against her body. And in a cataclysmic supernova burst, she screamed as one of her legs bent and curled around my hips and my fist dug deep into her wide open cunt. Streaks of honey liquid trailed along my wrist as well as down the inside of her thigh as the rustic Indian beauty climaxed like she probably never had before. In spurts, her body thrust outwards as the fingers of both my hands stayed inside her vaginal and anal orifices. And then gradually, she stopped her spasmodic movements with one final shiver and slid down the wall to the ground.

Small sounds kept emanating from her mouth; somewhere between a gasp and a kitten-like mewling, whimpering like a broken girl. I gave her a few minutes to gather herself together as I walked out of the room to get a drink. Spying the half empty beer can on the kitchen counter I took a sip and tasted the insipid liquid, realising that I had spent a fair bit of time with the maid this afternoon. I opened the refrigerator and took out another can as well as a small bottle of water. Popping the can, I took a deep thirst swig and backed back to the room with both the bottle and the can.

When I entered the room I saw the maidservant sitting against the wall on the floor, her head bent down and resting on her arms that were crossed on her pulled up knees. I screwed off the cap from the water bottle and rapped it against her arms. She looked up but nodded a silent refusal and lowered her head down again on her arms. Screwing the cap back on, I dropped the plastic bottle to the ground; it bounced slightly next to her haunches, then lay on its side. Unaware that I had capped the bottle, she looked suddenly at it, thinking perhaps water was now spilling out. In the dim light she was unable to see clearly so she moved a hand down to the floor and realised it was still dry.

As soon as I saw her stir, I reached down and grabbed one of her wrists in my hands and pulled her up, forcing her to stand against the wall facing me. She had not put on her blouse, but the drape of her saree covered her breasts. I held her by placing my hands on her hips and bend a knee up towards her crotch, thus forcing her thighs and legs apart. Pushing my abdomen against her, I raised my hands and took her wholesome boobs in my hands, mashing them like I had dome before. Her nipples were erect and hard against my palms as I rubbed across them; her face was now tiled upwards so I pressed my lips against hers as my tongue probed deep into her mouth.

Anita wrapped her arms around my neck as we kissed, but I was still feeling the hot madness gradually overpowering me. I squeezed her breasts for another minute, getting a perverse pleasure from inflicting this additional pain on her body. She gasped as I pinched her nipples, trying to draw away from me but I had one hand around her neck and the other clamped on her buttocks; she was unable to pull away even by an inch. The crack between her buttocks was deep even through the fabric of her saree and petticoat as the tips of my fingers invaded the crevice.

Like previously, I now used both hands to pull up the long skirt-like folds of her saree and undergarment so that her legs and thighs were bare against the roughness of my denims and the bulge inside. I pushed the covered bulge against her, somewhere above her crotch and below her navel. My hands scraped up the muscled shanks of her thighs before I turned them in towards her hairy pussy. Pushing two fingers into her warm wet cunt, I rammed them in and out of her in a rough speedy masturbatory movement. Her head tilted back against the wall as her torso and breasts thrust forward along with her abdomen.

The long draped pallu of her saree slid off her shoulders to reveal the full nakedness of her bosom as my fingers ground into her soaking wet cunt. My manhood was hard as a rock and the thickness pressed painfully against the confines of my jeans. I needed to fuck this maidservant so desperately, I could feel the blood beginning to boil in my veins now.

Extracting my fingers from her juicy vagina, I pulled her pubic hair in thick punches, causing more pain than I had intended. The woman screamed loudly and I saw tears once again well out of her eyes. Her saree had dropped somewhat in front but was prevented from doing so at the back because my hands were clamped around her arse. Her buttocks were taut and firm like an athlete's and my grip on them was vice-like. I found the entrance to her anus and pushed a fingertip inside; this resulted in another gasp from Anita as her body bend forwards to meet the swelling in my pants.

I pushed the finger in deeper, withdrawing it again to wet its length in the juices that were pouring out of her vagina, then slipped it into her hole again. I kept pushing it in and out till I had it completely inside. Every few strokes, I would extricate my finger, lubricate it with her pussy juices and then shove it inside again. I then extended the intensity of the insertion by using two fingers; the maid suddenly drew in her breath, held it for a second and then cried out. With two fingers in her arsehole and one hand gripping her bum firmly, I pulled her in towards me. Finding her mouth, I planted my lips on hers and shoved my tongue in just as fiercely; occasionally pausing to bite her lower lip in a sadistically hard move.

After a while, I seized her from the back of her neck and pulled her forward in a sudden move. Walking towards the bed in the middle of the room, I drew her viciously and forced her to bend down and place her hands on the bed. Getting behind her, I pulled up her saree from the rear and gathered the folds over her back. Her beautiful firm arse jutted backwards as she leaned over the bed on her outstretched hands. I unbuttoned my jeans, pulled down the fly and pushed the trousers down to my ankles.

Taking my raging cock in my hand, I stroked it for a few seconds before pushing it between her thighs so that the length of the ramrod hardness made a thick line through her dense foliage. I moved my hips forward and back, feeling her coarse pubic hair envelop the length of my penis as it slithered through the undergrowth.

Placing my hands on her buttocks, I parted her cheeks so that I could see her anal orifice in the dim light. I took the fingers of one hand and dug them deep into her cunt, drawing out the thick viscous fluids and then pushed the fingers into her arsehole. I twisted two fingers roughly inside while my cock continued to rub along the outside of her pussy, her juices now fully covering the length of my staff.

Taking a step back, I drew out my penis from between her thighs and it sprang up hard and firm, almost parallel to my abdomen. Reaching across to the bedside table where some jars of cream lay, I picked one up at random and opened the cap. Digging three fingers into the container, I scooped up almost half the contents and replaced the jar on the table, with the lid loosely on. Then pulling aside one ass-cheek with a hand, I began applying the unguent with the other on her arsehole. Pushing inside, I spread the lubrication around the entrance and about half an inch deep.

The maid felt the insertion and tried to turn her head backwards to see, but then gave herself up to the warm sensation of my fingers slipping into her aperture. Having completed applying the cream in her, I once again ran the length of my throbbing cock along the edge of her pussy.

Then without any warning or attempt at teasing my way in, I placed the red hot tip of my rod in front of her anus, grabbed her buttocks and spread them apart with the thumbs of each hand inside her hole. Pushing some of the lubricating jelly into her orifice, I removed my thumbs and replaced them with the searing tip of my phallus and pushed in till the helmeted crown was inside. The servant did not react untowardly, perhaps not realising the nature of this sudden penetration.

But then I began pushing myself into her, and the solid girth of my cock began to rip open her hole in a way she had never experienced before. As it seared its way in gradually, she howled out in pain trying to turn her neck and head backwards to face me, while simultaneously her body tried to get away from the invasion of her virginal arsehole. My hands had an implacable hold on her hips, drawing her hard against me as I relentlessly pushed my phallus deeper into her. "Malik, yeh kya kar rahe ho tum? Bhaiya please aise mat karo; bahut dard ho raha hai", she screamed asking what on earth I was doing and lamenting the unbearable pain of this penetration.

When I had all eight inches of my steely thickness inside, I paused, letting her get used to the sensation. As I stood still for almost a minute, I felt her body relax and her muscles loosened up, allowing her to accomodate the foreign presence in her anus. She stirred but this time not to get away; I actually felt her adjusting her body as if to allow my thickness a more comfortable positioning inside her. Her face was now against the bedcover and her buttocks raised to just the right level where my penetration required no more than for me to thrust forward.

Then, continuing to hold her hips in a firm grip, I began to fuck her arse. I pulled out about six inches of the stiffness, then rammed myself back in. As I continued to pulverise her, my body pushed in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Her saree was now bunched high on her back and her firm breasts hung pendulously but without any sag. Her nipples kept grazing the bedcover made of cotton and as I reached forward over her to take them in my hands, I thought that the nipples were possibly as hard as my cock. They felt solid and large as I pinched them between my thumb and forefingers.

Again holding her hips I continued thrusting and impaling her anus as her body now moved synchronously with mine. I felt her fingers rake my testicles as she reached under her body and touched them as they slapped against her thighs every time I rammed forward. I slid one hand down between her legs and to her underside where I felt the forested entrance to her grotto. It was like an overgrown soggy marsh, her continuously flowing juices having swept through every strand of pubic hair.

I used my fingers to run along the sides of her labia, feeling the slimy smoothness of her vaginal opening. I found her clitoris completely exposed and almost as hard as her nipples. Rubbing hard on her clit with one hand, pinching a nipple with the other, and thrusting my solidness into her arse, I fucked this woman till her gasps turned into squeals. Then her squeals turned into cries of unintelligible phrases uttered in her local language that I could not fathom. But I was way past caring whether she was appealing to me or urging me on.

Deep down in my groin I felt the stirring of my own fluids, my balls seemed to be rumbling in readiness as my manhood got thicker inside Anita's body. Once again gripping her haunches, I stabbed into her anus with my rock-hard penis, pushing harder in an attempt to penetrate deeper. My balls kept slapping the back of her thighs as I pulled her roughly against me every time I thrust in. The roiling of my own juices was getting more severe as I felt the turbulence begin at the base of my cock.

I know my phallus had grown thicker because I could hear the naukrani crying in pain again; perhaps the lubricant had lost its effectiveness. "Bhaiya, aur mat karo. Aur nahin leh sakte hum"; please stop, I can't take it any more, she cried. But I was oblivious to her pleas as she tried to scramble away from the invasive force of my burning rod. My hands had a solid grip on her, not allowing her even an inch of freedom; I held her hips in a cruel vice-like grip as I continued to debase the woman howling in pain. In fact, with a sadistic streak that I had never possessed before, my lust and passion grew with every effort she made to escape this continuous torment.

And then, like a volcano that had been shaken out of a century long slumber, I erupted my molten flow into her in hot bursts that ejected into her butthole. The amount of semen that had built up in me since the morning had not found release despite the fact that I had neared the edge of ejaculation at least twice earlier in the day. But now, all the pent up frustration mingled with a strange anger fuelled the massive explosion of hot cum that burst deep inside her back hole.

I continued thrusting forcefully into the maid, and with every forward plunge another load of semen steamed into her. "Aaaaiiiiiiii, Malik! Bhaiya, ahh, ahh, ooo...", exclamations that I didn't really hear because my entire body seemed to be completely engaged with my own orgiastic ejection. I bent forward an grabbed her breasts in both my hands and pulled her torso up off the bed so that she was on her knees. Her back was now almost against my chest as I clamped her breasts from behind and drew her backwards; she was kneeling on the edge of the bed and my thickness drove straight up into her as the last two jets of ejaculate shot into her anus.

Still clamping her chest against me as I stood by the end of the bed, I held still with my cock impaling her. After a full minute I felt my body begin to relax and the stiffness in my manhood begin to dissipate. But the fever in me was still raging; I still wanted more. But when I removed my grip from around her, she fell forward on to the bed with not enough strength in her to remain in her kneeling position. I looked down at her; her hair wild and undone was splayed across the bed-sheet, her back was bare as she lay on her stomach, her saree was still bunched around her waist and her buttocks still proud and naked.

I moved back, reaching for the can of beer on the side table and quenched my thirst with a gulp of tepid Heineken. The maid parted her legs and I saw streams of my seminal liquid begin to ooze out of her arsehole, dribbling down the crack of her buttocks and soaking the bed linen below. I felt the weight of my penis and knew that although some of the hardness had gone, I was not done yet. So I walked to the side of the bed and let my cock hang against the woman's face. She didn't stir. I tried to coax her, not too gently, by gripping her upper arm and yanking it, trying to get her to turn sideways from her belly-flop position.