I could hear a conversation and some whispers. Probably my wife was asking for permission to use the washroom to freshen herself up. No doubt she wanted to look properly presentable to my boss. I marveled at how quickly my haughty wife was becoming accustomed to her role as the latest slave girl of my boss’s harem. She never asked me permission for anything!
I heard some laughter, and then a loud smack. I grimaced — I could very well imagine what happened. My wife must have turned around to head to the washroom, and my boss, unable to contain himself at the sight of my wife’s bubble butt in a barely-there thong, smacked her on her ass. Vidya’s behind must have quivered at the slap, and she must have a red handprint on her butt. I could imagine her smiling flirtatiously as my boss smacked her bum again, and again, before she disappeared into the toilet. I could imagine my boss Mr. Sarun flexing his arms, walking over to the bed and sitting down, awaiting his latest prize filly — my wife’s — arrival.
I waited for some time, and then I heard a door open. It must have been the washroom, and my wife was emerging. I heard a wolf whistle — Mr. Sarun’s — admiring the sight of my now must-be-naked wife. I could imagine Vidya marching, somewhat haughtily, somewhat self-consciously, trying to cup her boobs in one hand and cover her lady parts down there with the other. Her hair must be falling lusciously to her shoulders as she walked to the bed.
“Look at you, saali!” I heard him exclaim. “You fill out properly in the nice places, babe!”
I heard a couple of smacks to her bum again, and then … silence.
“Damn!” I heard him say. He must have been groping Vidya now, first squeezing her tits, then probably asking her to turn around so he can examine her butt. He was likely patting her butt, and then rubbing his hands all over her tummy, before pinching a nipple.
“Are these real?” I could hear him ask that to my wife, who would just nod and grin as Mr. Sarun continued to suck on her areole.
“What size are they again, Vidya?”
“Um … 28DD I think, Sirjee?”
“Damn! They are much larger than 28DD, Vidya. DD is cup size, which is essentially how round the breasts are, 38 is what they measure with a tape around the chest. 28 is tiny. You are much, much, much larger, Vidya. What fucking breasts you have — they are giant melons!”
“Er, thank you Sirjee.”
“Your husband is one lucky bastard, babe. Too bad he’s such a pussy. You need a real cock in your choot.”
“Er … yes, Sirjee.”
Then there was more silence which I could only image was them both kissing. Vidya was a great kisser, no doubt flicking her tongue expertly at my boss’s mouth, and I could hear her moans and ahhs and oohs come through the door.
“You have a big ass too, Vidya. Let’s see your gaand, stand up, now crouch down. Good. I like a raandi who knows how to listen and obey her master.”
I could hear some smacks and more oohs and aahs as Mr. Sarun was no doubt groping (and spanking) her buttocks. He would have her twerk, and as her butt cheeks jiggled as she twirled, he would kiss and squeeze Vidya there, followed by a spank. I myself was never allowed to spank Vidya, but everyone from Gaurav to Ramu to Wasim to Balachandra to Feroz (and now Mr. Sarun) had spanked her. I felt a huge sense of shame and inadequacy. Here was my beloved wife being spanked on her buttocks by another man on the other side of the door, and all I could do was try to listen in, and try not to get caught in the act.