“Bua, you told me to remain in my chair while you went out of the room.” I answered her, my ears stinging, both with pain and shame. “I disobeyed you. I am very sorry, bua, and I deserve whatever punishment you give me.”
“Ten slaps.” Rashida announced.
I grimaced. I was now going to be slapped by my maid servant.
“And listen carefully baba,” Rashida continued, “After each slap, you will count it, thank me, apologize for your mistake and ask for another slap. And if you miss…” Rashida made a slapping motion with her hand, “another extra slap! You don’t want extra slaps now, do you baba?”
“Yes, bua. I mean, no, bua. I mean, whatever you wish, bua. I am yours to be punished.”
“Good, baba. Now, show your left cheek.”
Grimacing, I stood as Rashida raised a hand and slowly rubbed it against my cheek, patting my face. She took her time, building my anticipation and fear. She then raised her hand. I waited, reading myself for a painful smack to my cheek.
SLAP!
It was sudden and quick. Even though I was waiting for it, Rashida moved fast. She slapped me hard — a loud smack that left a large red mark on my embarrassed face.
“One,” I remembered to count. “Thank you for slapping me, bua. I am very sorry I disobeyed you, I deserve to be slapped. Please slap me again.”
“Of course, baba.”
SLAP!
“Two. Thank you, bua. I deserve this for not listening to you. Please slap me again.”
SLAP!
“Three. Please slap me again, bua.”
“You forgot to thank me, Tarek. We will start again from one.”
SLAP!
“One! I am sorry, bua. Thank you for slapping me, bua. Please slap me again, bua.”
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
And so it continued. Ten slaps, each of which made me blush deeply. It was such a humiliation — to be slapped by your busty maid — the normally docile maid who usually takes your orders, gets your tea, and makes your bed — and here she was slapping my face, punishing me for masturbating. I wonder what anyone would say if they could see Rashida and me then.
As slap after slap rained on my face, I had to count, thank her for the slap, shamefully apologize for my mistake and then ask her meekly to slap me again.
“Ten. Thank you, bua. I deserve your punishment. Please slap me again.”
“Ten is quite enough, baba.” Rashida stopped, looking at me. I was bravely trying to hold back my tears or even squirm, even though my cheeks were burning with pain and shame. I had now been slapped by a maid, and I had even thanked her for it!
Rashida walked and sat down on my bed. She beckoned at me to come closer to her. My wiener was now hard, and Rashida could see the bulge in my underwear.
“Tell me,” Rashida commanded, placing a hand on my loins, and slowly caressing the bump in my underwear, “What were you masturbating to?”
“I … I …” I stammered. Rashida threateningly raised her hand, as if to slap me again, and I replied quickly.
“I was thinking about Mrs. Patel, my English teacher.” I told Rashida about Mrs. Patel’s short skirt and wind blowing it up. Rashida continued to lovingly touch my manhood through my underwear.