SLAP!
Vidya had mentioned she wanted to go shopping the last couple of days, but I had put it off, saying I was tired from work and made some excuse. I now felt somewhat bad about not taking her shopping the evening before, but I told myself that this is why. I wanted Wasim to punish her. He could do to her what I would never be able to do. Plus this served her right for keeping this a secret.
SLAP!
“Stand up, memsaab.” Wasim ordered.
Meekly Vidya complied, staring at him in a sullen fashion. Then, as Feroz stood beside Wasim, Vidya cast her gaze down. She seemed embarrassed at being slapped by Wasim in front of Feroz.
Even Feroz appeared fidgety, but he would go along with whatever Wasim would do.
“Feroz.” Wasim ordered. “Strip the bitch. Leave only the panties on.”
“Yes, Wasim bhai.”
“After all, our memsaab has to have some izzat — some respect.” He sniggered at his own joke. “Even though hum wo izzat lootne walai hain!”
Feroz stood up and walked right up to her and placed his hand on her. He grabbed the pallu of the saree and started to strip her. I watched as this lower class guard stripped my wife nearly naked, until she stood in front of both men dressed in only a thin black panty. He big breasts were perky and her nipples erect — even though she didn’t want it, this humiliation was turning her on! As Feroz went back to stand beside Wasim, Vidya stared back at them in a defiant fashion.
“Look how proud and cocky she is.” Wasim commented to Feroz. “Despite being just slapped by me. This is a result of her upbringing. She thinks she is better than us. We have to show her, don’t we, Feroz?”
“Yes, Wasim bhai.”
Wasim turned back to my wife.
“Get down on the floor.” He ordered. “On all fours. Like a bitch. Wave your big butt in the air.”
Vidya gave him a dirty look, before Wasim’s raised hand and the threat of another slap caused her to rush to comply. She got down on the floor, on all fours, on her haunches, with her head down and her buttocks protruding in the air. I could see that the thin panty was disappearing between her the globules of her large buttocks. Even in such a debasing position, she still had an arrogant look on her face. I was proud of her.
“It is time, memsaab,” Wasim stood next to his prize — my wife — and told her rather ominously, “It is time, memsaab, that you learnt that women in India are no different from cattle. Your husband has given you a lot of leeway and you think you are equal to us men.”
“That’s a rather chauvinistic view.” Vidya murmured, even while staying in her humiliating position. “This is India and here we are the same.”
Wasim laughed, and then reached down and patted her on her derriere.
“Memsaab. You are nothing more to me than a cow or a dog I can purchase from the village fair.”
I could see that slowly Wasim was unbuckling his belt and pulling it out of his jeans.
“Tell me one thing, memsaab, let’s say you have a cow. And this cow is not following orders. What do you do?”
“Er …” Vidya, who has never dealt with any farm animal in her life, was clueless. “I don’t know. I guess you have to train it?”