Tag: maid

It was 10.25 pm, Monday, and like the proverbial memorable night in a movie, it was dark and stormy. Thunder and lightning rattled in the distance and the sound of rain falling constantly was ever present at the windows. Meanwhile, as my parents slept soundly in their room, I tiptoed my way quietly towards the servants' quarters.You would think I would be terrified of Mondays and Thursdays. Those were the nights when I would report to my maid Rashida's room, where she would recount what I had done wrong during the last few days, and then punish me for it. By the time she was done, I was usually a blubbering mess with a sore bottom and an equally bruised ego. But I also looked forward to these nights. I was in a relationship – a strange one, and a one sided one, I admit – but a relationship nonetheless with my beloved. The nature of that relationship wasn't decided, yet, but for some reason, I felt like this was something that had been missing in my life all this time. I loved the

Rashida had been our family maid servant for a long time. Moving to Kolkata from a distant village, and coming from a very poor family, she was merely eighteen when she started to work at my family's place. From pictures of her that I saw later, the young Rashida was a beautiful village belle. She had a curvy figure, full sized breasts, and a beautiful radiant smile. Like many women from the poorer strata of society, she did not wear blouses at that time, so the picture simply showed the top part of her thin sari wrapping around her upper body, with her breasts prominent in the picture. Later on my mother had gotten Rashida to wear blouses around the house.I was fifteen years younger than her, which meant when she started working here at my parent's place I was merely a toddler of three. I was practically brought up by Rashida -- she used to care for me as my high flying parents were frequently away on social engagements. Rashida had seen me as a toddler and then a child, and I grew

பாகம்‌ - 8ரேஷ்மா வீட்டின் கார் வாசலில் நிற்க, குனா யாரென்று பார்க்க, காரில் உள்ளே டிரைவர் மட்டுமே இருந்தான். சிறிது நேரத்தில் கார் புறப்பட்டுச் சென்றுவிட்டது. யாரோ திரும்ப வீட்டுக்கு வந்திருக்கிறார்கள். அதனால் தான் காவ்யா தன்னை அவசரமாக விரட்டிவிட்டிருக்கிறாள் என்று நினைத்துக் கொண்டான். கமலாவை விட்டு வந்திருப்பது யாரென்று பார்க்கச் சொல்லலாம் என்று நினைத்தவனாக,

பாகம் 1வீட்டு வாசலில் குனாவின் அப்பா தங்கவேலு ஈஸிசேர் போட்டு அமர்ந்திருந்தார். தனியாகக் கட்டிடக் காண்ட்ராக்ட் செய்துகொண்டிருக்கும் நடுத்தரமான பிஸினஸ் ஆசாமி. எப்போதும் இரவு எட்டு மணிக்கு மேலே வீட்டுக்கு வரும் அப்பா, இன்றைக்கு ஏன் சீக்கிரம் வந்துவிட்டார் என்று யோசித்துக்கொண்டே, கிச்சனுக்குள் போனான். அம்மா காப்பி போட்டுக்கொண்டிருந்தாள்.அப்பாவின் தொழிலில் இடம்

My name is Fateh. I am a fifty-two-year-old poor Indian man who drives a rickshaw for a living.You may have read the stories involving my buxom wife Narges, our master Sarun, and I in the series "The Rickshaw Driver's Wife". Yes, I am that Rickshaw Driver, the cuckolded husband, and it is my wife Narges who is the eponymous Rickshaw Driver's Wife.Our master, the young Sarun, wrote the first three chapters of that series. If you haven't read his stories, I suggest you read those chapters before reading this. First of all, not only does he write much better than me, but he completely details how I, and my wife Narges, become his slaves, and how he ends up pretty much fucking my wife at will, in front of me, in my own house, in my own bed. I had a big debt, and Sarun is a very rich man. The moral of my life is that if you don't have the money, don't gamble. You will end up losing everything.Our master Sarun has ordered my wife and I to pen the next couple of chapters. As he explained it

It took me some time to track Narges down. Finally, I got the name of a village where she is supposedly staying now. Looking it up on the map, I realized it was about half a day's bus journey away and there was only one bus that went near that village. I would have to take the afternoon bus from Kolkata which would reach a nearby city in the evening. From the bus station there, I would have to be lucky to find a rickshaw to her village -- and hopefully her house. And if I was unlucky that she wasn't there anymore, well, then I would have to find some way back.One day, after tying up some business in Kolkata, I took the afternoon bus. It was a long and tiring ride, but finally we reached the city that was closest to Narges's village. All along I wondered how Narges would look like now. I was now thirty, so she would now be thirty two. Would she still be chubby and attractive and have a fantastic rack that I had loved to lick? Would she remember me, how she had caught me peeking at her

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