Women Worshipper




Author's note :

This story is purely fictional. Any resemblances, blah blah blah. And this is
only a sample story! :)

Please mail me your feedback to : iworshipwomen@gmail.com

Thanks!!

The Story :

He waited. He was afraid. Soon she would come in. And then it would begin all
over again. How he wished he had been away, back at work, licking corporate
ass, working overtime. But deepdown, he knew, he would've never made it. He
would've cried thinking about her.

Now, he was going to cry. For sure, he waited , listening in the quiet of the
house, waiting for the screech of tires to announce her arrival, waiting for
his maidservant Bhavna to open the door to her mistress and she would come in.
She would have her tea and come upstairs. He cringed at the thought of what
she might do to him today. Forgetting an anniversary isn't laughing matter, is
it?

Strangely amidst all that fear, he knew he wanted to be here. His manhood,
whatever little of it was left, showed signs of happiness. Where was his manly
pride he wondered. Soon he heard footsteps and in entered Bhavna. He looked
up, surprised.

"Madam wants to see you down stairs immediately." Thats it. Curt and rude.
Servants these days! He shook his head disbelievingly. He motioned to her to
leave. Grabbed a hand towel to wipe the sweat off his face and neck and now
growing chill hands.. He put the towel down and started to walk downstairs
into the parlor where she would be reading a magazing and having a cigarette.

He walked in. "Hello sweety. How was your day?". A hint of nervousness? No.
More than a hint.

"Make a drink." was her answer. He walked to the bar and poured a little
scotch into a glass. She liked it neat. He placed the glass in front of her on
a table. She blew smoke into his face as he bent lower. On purpose. He was
sure of it. He coughed.

"What did you do all day? " Her turn to ask. He was about to reply but she cut
him off.

"Nothing but get back from work early to see the game didnt you? a football
match isn't it? you remember all this, and yet, you forgot our anniversary
last week"

"Honey, its been a week, im sorry, can we drop it now" , a little fear
creeping into his voice. She turned around. An icy stare. All that beauty, all
that coldness. He was weak. She knew it. Another minute of this and he would
break.

She called to Bhavna to get something into the room. The teenage servant girl
entered the room carrying a ruler. He recognized it. It was his wife's ruler.
The one she used to make her drawings. All her architecture. He froze. Surely,
she wouldnt hit him in front of his servant. He covered his bottoms
remembering the fateful evening of their anniversary. The thought horrified
him. He looked around the posh room, the beautiful chandeliers, the glass
cases, everythintg seemed to spin around him. Her study, the parlor, it was
all hers. He should've never married her, he thought bitterly, fearfully.

She laughed, "Don't worry sweety. I'm not going to hurt you."

He relaxed his shoulders breathing a little.

"Bhavna, take off his clothes."

One command. Just one order. How chilling. He gasped, open - mouthed at his
wife and then the servant girl. She was hardly 16! he was almost 30!

"What nonsense is this! " He cried indignantly.

His wife replied calmly, "Its either this or the whipping you'll get in the
bedroom. You choose. I can hurt more, easily." Too stunned to reply, he stared
open mouthed. "Co-operate. You know you will obey me anyway."

His look of disbelief went beyond description as he saw Bhavna advancing
towards him without a hint of confusion, or disgust or shyness. In fact, her
fingers worked on his shirt buttons before he realised she was smiling at him.
Helpless, more mentally than physically, he watched almost in a trance as his
shirt came off. Then his pressed trousers.

He stood, in his underpants, looking like a fool in front of a gorgeous woman
he's married less than a year ago. That brilliant black hair over her cheeks,
looking every bit the Goddess he'd wanted all his life. Ironically, she did
turn out to be quite the goddess.

"Bend over."

His legs grew rubbery. And he couldn't bend. A strong pair of hands forced him
down. he'd never imagined a teenage girl could use so much force. At a gesture
from her mistress, she yanked his underwear slowly. Down it went around his
thigh. His humiliation cannot be described. He knew what was coming. Not one
blow had fallen but he was already wet in his eyes. The tear drops were
forming and rolling slowly downward his cheeks onto the floor. One swing of
the ruler and he jerked forward in pain and shock.

He raised his eyes too see an amused smile on his wife's face. She then had
her drink.