Masterfulhusband
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Princess or Whore
🕑 Added 2020-01-08 18:00:04 +0000 UTCInspired by a patron, this is a story of a raceplay fetish that I'm not fully familiar with so forgive any mistakes made (they're mine not theirs). Hope you enjoy this (rare for me) self contained story.
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Princess or Whore?
The cold air whipped through the Midway as Priya wrapped her coat tightly around herself to protect from the frigid wintry wind. She chastised herself, not for the first time, and her decision to pursue not one but two post graduate degrees in this god forsaken hell hole of Chicago. And on top of that she’d accepted the job offer they’d given her after she graduated. She never thought she’d miss the heat of New Delhi but when it was -7 celsius and a windchill of -15, you found yourself missing a lot of things. She should have left.
Priya’s hands were frigid because she’d stupidly forgotten her gloves in her office. Because of that, she was reduced to quickly walking across the park with her hands shoved in her pockets and her head tucked down as she tried to keep as much of her face behind her jacket collar as possible. She hated this place.
She hated it not just for the weather but also the faculty. It was awash with right leaning economists and law students. Part of that right leaning attitude was why they hired her, however. The University eschewed affirmative action policies but still had a need to show diversity in hiring. So an indian, female, highly qualified alumni was a perfect fit for them. It gave Priya comfort to know that she’d managed to pierce the white man’s academic boy’s club at the University. That had been 8 years ago and now she was a well regarded, tenured professor. She had students of all races who respected her and she’d helped to mint 37 PhDs in that time. While it wasn’t a competition amongst the professors, she’d be winning if it was. A fact she always tried to slip into conversations that got a little too competitive.
Priya rushed the last 100 yards to the warm safety of the corner coffee shop. Despite the relatively late hour, the place was incredibly busy. Some people liked hot chocolate. But not Priya. She had developed quite the love of coffee… or maybe addiction was a more apt description. She usually drank a cup after work and another mugful a couple hours before going to sleep. She loved the buzz she got from it and sometimes wished she could just where one of those stupid beer hats but filled with hot coffee during the day.
After ordering her drink, she grabbed her coffee and cupped it in her hands, sipping the scalding dark liquid in an attempt to fight off the chill in her bones. The seats were all taken. Nobody wanted to go outside without drinking their hot mana from heaven. A man in a dark black trenchcoat stood up from one of the tables leaving a seat open next to an elderly couple. Priya walked up and politely leaned over, “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.
“Oh… no, dear. Absolutely not,” the woman answered. Priya smiled, they seemed like a very nice couple. She sat down and started sipping at her coffee, avoiding eye contact with everyone as her mind drifted to her latest research project. She barely noticed when the older couple stood up and it took a gentle tap on her shoulder before she heard the question now being asked.
“Do you mind if I have a seat here?” came the voice. It was a deep, thrumming sound and she was so struck by the tone that she hardly noticed the british accent.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, looking up at the man who towered over her. He was in his mid 30s and well dressed. He had a long coat and a scarf around him with hints of snow still spotting along the right side of his coat. His small, golden glasses sparkled and the red and black short beard was well maintained. Priya couldn’t help but study him as something about his appearance clicked for her in a way she wasn’t used to. She shook her head and forced a smile at the man intruding on her precious coffee, “Of course. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, love,” he said and sat down. Priya bristled at the appellation but knew it was a cultural thing. He couldn’t know that it was overly familiar to the point of inappropriate. They sat in silence sipping their coffee for a moment before the man, once again, interrupted her academic thoughts. “It’s quite cold outside,” he said.
Priya shot him a look, “Yes. Quite,” she said, trying to indicate with her tone that she didn’t want to talk to him.
“I’m Ben? Ben Chilwerth… and you are?”
“Not interested,” Priya said and turned away.
“I was just trying to be friendly, Miss,” he said.
Priya ground her teeth then decided she simply couldn’t let this go, “It’s Ms and why do men always assume that they have the right to talk to women who obviously don’t want to talk to them?”
“I’m sorry,” he said looking not at all sorry but obviously trying to end the conversation regardless.
“And why did you think you were entitled to join me? I could have had someone with me. Or do you just assume because I’m Indian I’m alone?”
Ben was taken visibly aback. In a span of 30 seconds he’d been accused of being both sexist and racist having said only a few words to the woman. Nevertheless, he tried to rally and smiled back. “I noticed you sit down with that older couple that you weren’t with. I just assumed that was the etiquette here. Was I wrong?”
Priya started to say something and then shut her mouth realizing that her overreaction was being properly identified. She still wasn’t willing to let it be, however. “You’re welcome to sit here but you’re not entitled to my conversation.”
Ben smiled and nodded, “Fair enough but I don’t think anything I did indicated I was ‘entitled’ to it.”
“You talked to me unsolicited and unwanted,” Priya said and sipped her coffee.
“If nobody talked to anybody unsolicited then we’d far fewer conversations in the world,” Ben said and smiled back.
Priya paused, realizing again that she’d been in the wrong. Once again she changed tacs, “You have to appreciate how the fact that you’re British carries certain burdens when dealing with an Indian woman.”
Now Ben was confused and he furrowed his brow as he weighed his words. “I’m sorry… I don’t.”
“Colonialism? The occupation and exploitation of India? If you’re that ignorant of history I suppose I could forgive you but I don’t suspect you are,” Priya said, smiling at him as she felt like she finally scored some points.
“So… because my grandfather spent time in India I can’t talk to a beautiful Indian woman in a coffee shop?”
Priya felt her cheeks flush a little. 80% of that was because of the unexpected complement. 20% was because of the fleeting image of Ben Chilwerth in a starched white british dress uniform. “No… you just… should be expecting rejection.”
Ben laughed and Priya found herself liking the man’s mirthful chuckle in spite of herself. “As a man, I’m pretty much trained to expect rejection when I approach a woman.”
Priya spoke before thinking, “I seriously doubt that with the way you…” Her words trailed off as she realized what she was about to say.
“I’m sorry… What were you about to say?” Ben asked, staring into her eyes.
Priya spoke slowly and carefully, “Well… you’re obviously an objectively attractive man so I suspect you don’t get instant rejections very often.”
“Different women have different tastes. But it’s nice to know what yours are,” he said and took a sip. Before Priya could respond, he continued, “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“No… No I haven’t,” she said and sipped her coffee. Ben simply smiled and nodded back and the two sat silently for a moment enjoying the warmth of their drinks. “Are you a professor here?”
“I am… International Economics,” he said.
“What are you studying?” she asked, intrigued in spite of herself.
“The degree to which World Bank efforts to help third world countries actually succeed.”
Priya smiled, “I think they’ve been a huge impact.”
Ben frowned slightly and Priya was surprised, “That’s the laymen’s opinion but it turns out the short term impact is muted by fairly rampant corruption while the long term opinion is actually a substantial decline in GDP.”
“So you’re saying that the rich countries should just keep their money and lord it over the rest of the world?”
“I don’t think I was saying that at all,” Ben said as he placed his hand on the table next to, but barely not touching, Priya’s hand. Priya started to flinch but fought the instinct. The two continued to argue with each of Priya’s arguments being casually rebutted by Ben. Priya realized that it wasn’t a fair fight, this was his area of expertise not hers so all she was doing was giving him easy strawmen to defeat. Eventually, Priya gave up and shifted the subject. She couldn’t bring herself to get up and leave yet. Every logical thought told her that this man was, at best, backwards thinking. And yet ever instinct in her body was saying something very different to her.
“I’d like to see you again, Ms…” he let the question hang in the air.
Priya simply smiled, “Sure. I’ll be sure to study up on you so that I’m better equipped to argue against your ridiculous position.”
Ben looked at her, eyeing her up and down for the first time. Up to this point, Priya had been acutely aware of his lack of any overt perverted intent but for an instant he let his guard down and the look he gave Priya made her shudder. “Fair enough,” Ben said, “But since you won’t tell me your name maybe you’ll do me a different favor?”
“I doubt it but it can’t hurt for you to ask,” she said dismissively.
“Let me choose the restaurant. I’ll pay or we can go dutch but there’s a little French restaurant I’d like to try. La Azur, you know it?”
It was Priya’s favorite restaurant and she smiled broadly, “It’s the restaurant I would have picked anyways,” she said with a smile.
“Excellent, then you HAVE to let me pay,” he declared as he stood up and left a tip large enough for both of them on the table. Priya started to say something but Ben was already starting to step into the bustling coffee shop. Suddenly he turned around and said, “Oh… you’d look particularly fetching in a red saree. Just some advice.”
Priya was speechless at the audacity that he had showed. Giving her advice on her clothing choice was so beyond the pale domineering that she really had no immediate response. Instead she sat there and watched as he drifted off and out into the cold, dark night.
Priya finished her coffee, still unsure of the torrent of emotions running through her and desperately trying to suppress the image of Ben Chilwerth towering over her in a crisp military uniform.
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The next night, Priya was extremely conflicted. She did have a red Saree and it did look very good on her. She was standing in front of the mirror wearing the rarely worn garment. She turned side to side and ran her fingers across the material. Her mother had worn these every day even after they came to America. Her father had insisted. Priya had had to wear them as a child but quickly phased them out of her wardrobe when she started high school. She had one of her only real fights with her father over the issue but she’d stood her ground which, ultimately, her father had respected. He’d raised her to be strong and if the price of that strength was a willfulness about traditional clothing than he was fine with that.
Nevertheless, Priya looked at herself and liked what she saw. She’d stopped wearing the garments because of what it said to onlookers. They made certain assumptions. But now that she was wearing one again she rationalized a different line of thought. “Nobody’s entitled to assume things about me because of what I wear. I shouldn’t be forced away from my cultural heritage because other people are bigoted.” Satisfied with that line of reasoning, she decided to wear the saree tonight. Not for Ben. But for her. Definitely for her.
She wrapped herself in a heavy overcoat and once again went out into the infernally cold air of Chicago. Despite the chill, Priya felt a heat within her. She was looking forward to this date. To seeing Ben again. To seeing Ben’s face when he saw her in the red cotton dress. She smiled to herself, already forgetting her self-declared reasoning for wearing the garment in the first place.
She arrived at the restaurant and was greeted warmly by the maitre’d, “Lovely to see you again, Ms. Patel,” he said as he took her coat. She saw his eyes widen momentarily at the unexpected garment but he kept his thoughts to himself which Priya appreciated. “Would you like your usual table?”
“No, Henry. I’m meeting a dinner date here…”
“Ahh… yes… Mr. Chilwerth arrived only a couple minutes earlier. He didn’t ask for you by name so I didn’t…”
“It’s fine, Henry. Thank you,” she said as the small man pointed towards Ben. She looked and saw him studying the menu, not yet aware of her arrival. She walked purposefully, acutely aware of the way the fabric moved across her skin. She felt surprisingly sensual dressed like this and the thought brought an unfamiliar turmoil to her stomach… and elsewhere.
Just as she approached, Ben looked up and smiled an almost sick grin. It wasn’t the look Priya had imagined. It wasn’t warm and in awe. It was knowing and arrogant. There was no surprise on his face. As if to prove her thought, he nodded slightly and said, “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” she asked.
“For wearing what I asked you to,” he said, staring at her. Gone was the kind, almost bumbling british professor from early in the night before. Now he was the person she’d glimpsed so briefly at the end. She felt hunted.
“I’m not wearing it for you. I’m trying to reconnect to my roots,” she said.
“Uh huh,” he said as his eyes scraped across her body. She could practically feel the phantom touch and she knew that her nipples were likely betraying her. The smile that tweaked the corners of her dinner partner’s lips confirmed it. “You know what I think?”
“What?” she said. She met his gaze at first but something about it overwhelmed her. It was like his gaze was piercing through her and looking into her soul in a way she wasn’t comfortable with. She unconsciously flicked her eyes down to the white linen of the table cloth. The thin white fabric would make a very erotic saree her mind told her.
“I think you have… issues… some might call them kinks.”
Something about the way Ben said the word ‘kinks’ made her uncomfortable and she had to fight the urge to squirm in her seat. He continued, never taking his eyes from hers, “I think you want… No, excuse me… I think you need to explore them. And I think you don’t want to explore them in a completely… shall we say? Safe way?”
Priya listened to the arrogance spew forth from the British man. She wanted to throw her napkin at him and storm off but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He captivated in a way that frightened her. “What do you mean… not safe?”
Ben looked hurt as he placed his hand over his heart and tisked slightly. “No no… nothing like that. My… no. My dear girl, I simply suggested that maybe an element of danger and risk were what you were seeking. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Priya squirmed as the images that flitted through her head came unbidden. Images from her youth. Images of acts that captured the hormonally flooded mind of her youth. Acts that she’d thought she’d moved past the obsession of. It was a moment before she realized that Ben had implied a question with his accusation. “You’re wrong,” she said with a bare whisper.
Ben smirked again but leaned back, “Well my apologies. I won’t dwell on it.” Suddenly the nice, relaxed man from the night before was back. Their dinner proceeded largely uneventfully. Priya was almost prepared for Ben to order for her. She got that vibe. But when she started to make it clear she was going to order for herself Ben took her completely off-guard. “Why don’t you order for me. This is your regular haunt so I suspect you know the very best options for a newcomer.”
Priya looked at him and then back at the waiter. Her confusion was momentary and she quickly rallied, ordering an expensive wine and her favorite meal.
“Oh? I rate a bottle of wine now?” Priya smiled at him sardonically and he pressed on, “But still not your name?”
She shook her head, “But I would like to talk about your theory that the World Bank hurts those they lend to.”
“Certainly. What would you like to know?” he said. Priya could sense the way he dropped instantly into professorial mode. She knew that she tended to do it as well and it was a nice connection to make with a man that she, superficially at least, seemed to have so little in common with.
The two of them discussed the issue and while Priya was much more versed in the subject matter, having spent several hours the night before familiarizing herself with the relevant theories, she realized very quickly that Ben’s argument wasn’t transparently fallacious like she’d hoped. It’s flaws, which she was still certain it had to have, were likely abstract and non-obvious. Nevertheless, Priya enjoyed the cut and thrust of arguing with a fellow academic and she didn’t even mind the mild mansplaining that Ben dropped into occasionally. After all, this was his field of expertise. He was entitled to explain a few things to a neophyte.
Before long, the dinner had been finished and so had the desert. They discussed their life stories. Priya’s family had historically been in the lowest caste in India and had moved to America to get away from the oppressive system. Being a Shudra, or laborer, had put them only one touch above the untouchables and allowed very little opportunity for them to get ahead in the highly structured social order of colonial India.
Conversely, Ben’s great-grandfather had been a provincial governor in India for a time. He’d married a royal woman and earned the title of maharaja and Viceroy as a result. Their children had all been educated back in England, as was customary at the time. Ben’s grandfather met a nice girl at Oxford and never returned to India. Priya could see the faint hint of Indian ancestry now that she looked and it made Ben Chilwerth and even more attractive specimen as far as she was concerned.
Priya suddenly became very self-conscious again as she realized she didn’t know how to end the date because she didn’t know how she wanted the date to end.
“Maybe we can share a cab ride home?” he asked.
“I assume you meant share a cab ride to our respective homes?” she retorted.
“If that’s what you want, then of course.” The predatory look was back and Priya realized in a startling moment of self-awareness, that she liked it. Bumbling professorial Ben Chilwerth was likeable. But Ben Chilwerth the cocky hunter was… intriguing. He stood up and offered her hand which Priya took without thinking. When he placed his hand gently on the small of her back, she froze for a brief moment. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it lower or not. But his hand never sank lower as they walked out. He leaned forward to open the door and she caught a whiff of his scent. It was a simple mix of aftershave and soap which she found refreshing. She liked a clean man. Ben quickly waved down a cab and they stepped into it to get out of the chill air. The night wasn’t nearly as miserable as the one before but it was still unpleasant for anyone who was caught outside for too long. As they bundled into the cab, Ben fell in next to her. Just a little closer than was appropriate. Their legs touched and his hand found her knee. She watched as his strong hand and thick thumb rubbed gently at the fabric covering her legs.
Priya looked at him. Their faces were inches apart and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. Priya knew he could feel her own in return. “What do you want?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“I know how things are these days in America. You have to ask me.”
Priya studied him. Her emotions were so conflicted. There were aspects of this man that she loathed but others that she loved. The intoxicating mix of love and hate was a recipe for disaster and she knew it. But she couldn’t stop herself, “Kiss me.” The voice that came out of her mouth was far deeper and sensual than she intended but Ben didn’t dwell on it. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. His lips lingering against hers slightly. She opened her mouth to his and traced his lips gently with her tongue before he pulled away leaving her surprised. She blinked at him before diving forward and kissing him more fully. The two made out in the cab. Priya’s hands tracing the muscles on his back and arms while his gently stroked along her hips and legs. She kept feeling him dance close to the hem of the red saree, teasing her skin before pulling away.
“Stop,” she said.
“Stop what? Teasing or touching?” he asked before kissing her again, this time keeping his hands studiously free of her. Instead his right arm was pressed against the door on her side and she somehow felt more trapped then when he was touching her.
“Stop… stop teasing me?” she asked, uncertain herself if she knew what she wanted.
“You have to tell me what you want,” he said again, this time kissing down her neck as she floundered with her own emotions.
“Touch me,” she whispered. She heard the cab driver chuckle and started to say something but Ben’s hand slipping up the inside of her saree made her instantly forget what she was about to say. His fingers expertly traced along the inside of her leg and he could feel the radiant heat from her core on his hand. He squeezed the soft flesh of her upper thigh, allowing the edge of his right hand to press against her steaming pussy. The contact was electric as the satin panties she wore provided the flimsiest of barriers between him and her. She gasped as the action created the barest of friction on her clit.
“What do you say?” Ben asked her as he let the edge of his hand brush her again. Just barely grazing across her engorged nub.
“Huh?” she asked, looking at him and shivering at the gaze he returned. In the restaurant and last night, she’d seen a hint of the hunter that Ben Chilwerth was. Now she could see what he kept so well hidden. She felt trapped, dominated and wholly overwhelmed.
“What do you say when someone does something nice for you?”
“Thank you?” she asked, uncertain what he was getting at.
“Good girl,” he said and kissed the nape of her neck while allowing his hand to more forcefully apply pressure to her already soaked panties and desperate clit.
She gasped and managed another, “Thank you,” as he touched her more aggressively. “More… please more.”
Ben smiled and worked his fingers expertly. He slid the soft fabric aside and caressed the wet gash it had valiantly protected. “More?” he asked.
Priya wasn’t thinking clearly. The fear and arousal were completely intertwined. All she could do was spread her legs and grab his wrist. The nonverbal cue was obvious but Ben resisted. Her weak pull wasn’t strong enough and his arm was almost as unyielding as an iron bar. She whimpered and looked at him. She could see what he wanted, “Please?” she squeaked.
“Please what, raajakumaaree?”
She groaned at the use of the word. It pushed a button deep inside of her. “Princess?” she asked and was rewarded with a finger sliding along her moist opening. “Does that make you raajakumaar?” she asked using the word for ‘Prince’.
“No,” he said as he scraped his finger up along her swollen clit. She gasped as he whispered, “You will address me as maharaja. Now tell me what you want, raajakumaaree.”
Priya swooned. She instantly pictured a colonial white man sitting atop an Indian throne. She pictured herself kneeling at his feet, begging for… “Finger me if it pleases you, maharaja.”
His thick finger slipped inside of her. It met no resistance or friction. She moaned out, not even noticing the cabby adjusting the rear view mirror as she shook in the arms of the British invader. He moved inside of her, stirring her passions more and more powerfully. The edge of his thumb strummed her clit, threatening to cause her to boil over at any moment. For the first time, she reached out and felt for Ben’s cock. It was hard, thick and long and just the feel of it as it twitched at her touch caused her to groan.
“Do you want that, princess?”
“Yes…” she said, hips thrusting against his hand.
“Do you want to cum, raajakumaaree?”
“Yes, please… maharaja.”
“If you beg to suck me off and do a good job, I might allow you to orgasm.”
“Please… please let this lowly shudra please you oh powerful one.” Priya was completely into the game at this point. Ben’s left hand gripped her hair tightly and his right hand pulled out from her sopping cunt. She simpered pitifully at the unpleasant empty sensation she was left with but didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he deftly unzipped his fly and shoved her gaping mouth down to his thick white cock. Priya didn’t suck cock. She would never do it. It was degrading and disgusting and dehumanizing.
The cock filled her mouth and it thrilled her in strange and unexpected ways. She started bobbing enthusiastically (if inexpertly) on the thick white shaft. She didn’t care who saw. She didn’t care about much other than pleasing her lord’s cock and earning her own orgasm. She was only dimly aware when Ben told the cabbie, “Circle the block a couple more times.” She stroked the shaft slightly, trying to gauge the quiet sounds that Ben made. It took her awhile but she finally found a rhythm that he was enjoying… or at least his thrusting hips seemed to indicate. One… Two… Three more thrusts down her throat and suddenly his hand pulled her away from him. She watched in mesmerized awe as his strong right hand gripped the shaft and gave it a couple firm pulls. Suddenly he groaned and shot thick strands of cum across Priya’s upturned face. The first hot rope landed on her left cheek and startled her but she couldn’t stop staring into his eyes as he shot several more strings up and down her face and in her hair.
He pulled her up by her hair roughly, a feeling that she’d have hated 48 hours ago but she found intoxicatingly possessive at the moment. Then he whispered, “I’m done with you raajakumaaree. You will go to your little apartment and think of me but you are not to cum without my permission. Understand?”
“But… you promised,” she whined. She hated the pitiful tone of her voice but she couldn’t stop it from coming out. She sounded like the most entitled little brat but she was so turned on she couldn’t think straight. Didn’t he understand that she needed to cum? That she’d earned that orgasm?
“No… I said you might. And I’ve decided you won’t until I’m fully satisfied. Now don’t argue. Go,” he said. The last word had a harsh finality to it. The cab came to a halt in front of her apartment building. He got out and held the door open for her, showing for a moment the nice Ben Chilwerth. He gave her an almost chaste kiss on her right cheek before patting her ass lightly and climbing back in the cab. She stumbled inside, still bursting with arousal. Her doorman gave her a funny look as she walked past. The cold Chicago wind carried in Ben’s voice with one last little taunt, “Good night, Princess.”
She caught her breath as she stood in the elevator. Then the metal doors closed. They’d been polished to an almost mirror sheen and the look of the woman that met Priya’s gaze almost broke her completely. The smeared mascara and lipstick. The cum drying on her cheek and in her wrecked hair. She stared at her, alternating between fascination, horror and arousal before she started chuckling a tearful laugh as the emotions swept over her. Priya went to bed, unsure of her own emotions. She never even considered cumming.
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The next week was a real challenge for Priya’s self control. She went back and forth between wanting to give herself an orgasm and not wanting to give in. Sometimes she’d convince herself that Ben was a dominating psychopath who really thought he could own her orgasms. Other times she was certain that he was manipulating her into getting herself off to prove she had no self-control. The emotional whipsaw was only made worse by his harassing texts. Well… it would have been harassing if she didn’t encourage them.
Ben: I had a great night last night. Thank you, raajakumaaree ;)
Priya: Don’t call me that. It’s practically racist.
Ben: That’s not what your opinion was last night.
Priya: I was lost in the moment.
Ben: I know… did you obey me when you got home?
Priya: None of your business
Ben: It’s definitely my business, princess
Priya: Don’t call me that either
Ben: Why not?
Priya: It’s demeaning. Teasing.
Ben: So? Do you not like it?
Priya: No
Ben: That’s it? No? You didn’t say “No” last night
Priya: I should have
Ben: No you shouldn’t have. You’d be regretting it today.
Priya: Maybe
Ben: Definitely.
Ben: What are you wearing?
Priya: Why?
Ben: Send me a picture
Priya: No
Ben: Yes
Priya looked at the message. Because of their mutually hectic schedules, the conversation was slow, occurring over three days. Three days without an orgasm. Why? Who was this man? Why was she acting like this with him? She should have gone to University Human Resources. But she knew she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had to get help. At least that’s what she told herself. The selfie she took told a different story. Actually, the five selfies she took in trying to find the most attractive picture told the real story. Her body wanted Ben Chilwerth and she didn’t know how to fight the urge. She couldn’t get the image of herself kneeling in front of him out of her head. It was consuming her. Which is probably why the picture she settled on was from above as she knelt on the floor of her office. Immediately after sending it, he responded.
Ben: Very nice. And in the proper position of submission.
Priya: Fuck you
Ben: An offer?
Priya: You wish
Ben: Are you wearing little satin panties again?
Priya: None of your business
Ben: Send me a picture, raajakumaaree
Priya didn’t protest this time. She knew she wasn’t going to win the fight. She’d never done anything like this but it was the end of the fourth day and her fingers were twitching from all of the unintentional edging she kept doing. She would tease herself then remind herself that he wanted her to cum and she’d stop. Then she’d chastise her stupid self-rationalization and start again only to find another reason not to cum. The cycle repeated multiple times every night until she was starting to look almost as frazzled as she felt. She pulled her skirt up and snapped a picture. She was immediately rewarded with a response from Ben. It showed a huge, hard cock. He’d sent her a dick pic. And his next text
Ben: Is this what you wanted?
Yes. Oh god yes.
Priya: No
Ben: Uhhuh… come to my apartment tonight. 7pm, raajakumaaree.
Priya put her phone in her purse and took a sip of water with shaking hands. Was she going to go to his apartment tonight? Hell no. She wasn’t a plaything. She didn’t do booty calls. Fuck him.
At 6:55, she was standing in front of his door wearing the same red saree that she’d worn on their first date. The date that had ended with her most embarrassing walk of shame of all time. The date that she had continuously relived in her mind as she strummed herself to countless denied orgasms.
The door opened when she knocked and he was standing there looking cocky and arrogant. He was wearing a pair of thin, linen slacks and no shirt. “Like what you see, raajakumaaree?”
“No,” she said but her gaping mouth and almost imperceptible nod told the real truth. Ben’s muscles looked hard and worn. They looked like they were earned working in fields, not a gym. There were little scars all over. Little injuries from years of real world exertion. Priya felt herself get even more aroused.
“Uhhuh,” he said to her. “So what’s it going to be?”
“What?”
“What do you want from me, princess?”
“Want? Nothing. I want you to stop harassing me. Just leave me alone,” she said.
“Seriously? You send me pictures of your underwear. You dress up like I ask you and show up when I tell you. And you do it to get me to leave you alone?” Ben shook his head as he said this. His body leaned against the doorframe gently and she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. “I don’t think so.”
Priya managed, “Well… I do… I don’t want to be a part of your games.”
“Then why haven’t you made yourself cum this week?”
“Who says I haven’t?” Priya protested.
“Your ridiculous nervousness. I’ve never seen anyone so nervous.”
“Look… Ben…”
“maharaja, remember,” Ben said in a condescending tone.
“Fine… maharaja,” she said, not wanting to make a big production of it. “This is all just too much. I’m not going to lie to you. I enjoyed the other night. But…”
“So you enjoyed the other night?” Ben said interrupting her. He stepped out of his door just enough to encroach upon her space. She stood her ground and looked up at him.
“Yes,” came her soft reply.
“You enjoyed being fingerfucked in a cab and then getting my cum all over your pretty face?”
She nodded very slightly, “Yes… but…”
He interrupted her again, “I was wrong. You’re no rajaakumaaree. You’re a phoohad. A slut,” he said the words with such venom that Priya actually winced.
“I am not,” she protested but Ben just shook his head.
“Yes you are. We both know it. Okay… here’s the problem, phoohad. You’re wearing too much clothing for a lowly veshya like you. Don’t you agree?”
“What? I may have acted a little… wantonly… but I’m no whore!” for the first time her voice raised a bit in her own defense. Then she glanced around nervously at the empty hallway before continuing, “That’s enough. I’m done here. I’m done with you.”
“Enjoy fantasizing about this big, thick, white cock veshya. Feel free to cum if you really want to. But when you come back, make sure you’re wearing something more appropriate to your station.” The door closed behind him before she could even respond. The whole conversation had played out completely differently than she’d imagined. In her more lucid moments, she’d pictured herself standing up to him. Maybe even getting him to apologize for his loutish behavior. In her more depraved moments it had ended with her riding astride him or… if she was honest, bent over a piece of furniture and fucked into bliss. She’d never considered a simple rejection by him.
--
The next week was even harder than the last. Ben didn’t text her at all. He didn’t call. She had enough self-control and pride left that she didn’t barrage him with messages. She wasn’t going to be that girl who texted, “Why didn’t you text me back?”
But that didn’t stop her from sending one quick message.
Priya: Should we talk?
There was no response. She checked everyday. Truthfully, she checked three times a day. Nothing.
And so it was that she tried to go about her regular days. And, for the most part, she managed that. At least until the night came. At night, she’d finger herself in her bed, imagining increasingly lewd, depraved images. She’d stare at the picture of his cock that she’d been sent and give herself orgasm after orgasm. She imagined that cock back in her mouth. Or filling her tight cunt. The orgasms were always amazing but somehow empty. She knew what she really wanted.
And so it was she found herself standing outside Ben’s door. This time she wasn’t wearing the beautiful red saree. She wasn’t wearing her trademark slacks and blouse that she taught in. Instead, she was wearing an almost sheer black saree that highlighted her very womanly figure. The swell of her breasts was clearly visible and the barest hint of nipple was there if the light was bright enough. The saree was short too. Shorter than any skirt that Priya owned. It came up eight or nine inches above her knee. She’d also found a pair of thigh high boots with five inch heels. She’d spent nearly an hour in front of the mirror making herself look progressively trashier. If he wanted her to look like a whore than so be it. That’s what she was going to do. She’d given up the pretense. She knew she needed him.
“Come in,” he called when she knocked on his door. It was Friday night. He didn’t know she was coming. How could he? Priya opened the door and walked in. His apartment was not what she’d expected. It was warm and inviting with old wooden furniture and soft pillows. So unlike the modern apartments of other professors. She didn’t see Ben as she glanced around. One wall was adorned with several Indian heirlooms and several pictures. One in particular drew her to it. The picture was of a tall, strong white man and his Indian family. She knew it was Ben’s greatgrandfather. The resemblance was unmistakeable. He was standing there with his arm on the shoulder of his wife who was seated in front of him. She was smiling happily at the camera. A smile that you couldn’t fake. A smile that said, “I’m happy beyond all reason.”
Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn, two strong hands gripped her arms above her elbows and hot breath was in her ear, “I knew you’d come back to me, slut.”
Priya shivered, “How?”
“I could tell from the first time we met. I knew what you needed.”
Priya could barely bring herself to speak, “And what’s that?”
Suddenly the hands moved from her elbows to her breasts. They mauled and squeezed at her and she couldn’t help but move her hips, shoving her ass back against her molestors raging cock. “I know what you need, cunt. I want to hear you say it.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered in ecstasy as the rough hands squeezed her through the thin black fabric. His right hand dug into her flesh painfully while his left pinched and pulled on her nipple causing her involuntary moan to fill the apartment.
“Yes you do. What’s the first thing that comes to mind for you, rajaakumaaree?”
“I can’t,” she said, still holding back. The image was etched in her mind. Her kneeling at Ben’s feet. Supplicating herself completely before him. Ben’s right hand slid down to the high hem of her dress and pulled it up roughly. She gasped as she now was bare before him. “Please…” she begged as his fingers traced along her gushing gunt. They both knew how aroused she was. There were no more games.
“No underwear… my my… you did dress like an obedient little veshya. Tell me what you’ve been imagining every night, bitch?” The words were harsh and commanding. Priya gasped as Ben continued to manhandle her from behind. She didn’t fight her body’s natural reactions, simply gave in to the wanton impulses as she danced to the lead of her partner.
“Kneeling…,” she said and was rewarded with those perfect fingers piercing into her core. She cried out in pleasure.
“See what happens when you admit what you want, slut?”
“Oh God… I want… I want,” she said but could barely speak the words. She was filled with shame and lust and it nearly paralyzed her. Ben pulled his fingers out from her and she whined pitifully. She felt the pressure of his hands on her shoulders as she knelt before him. “I want you to… to dominate me, maharaja,” she said as she looked up at him. She saw his sock then for the first time. The thick, long, white shaft was everything that the picture had promised and more. She wanted it. She needed it. Something primal inside of her called out for it.
“If only your students could see you now, slut,” Ben said with a chuckle. Priya felt the fear well up inside of her. He wouldn’t? Ben looked at her as if reading her before saying, “Don’t worry. I’m keeping you to myself, slut. Nobody but I will know what you really are.”
“Thank you, maharaja,” she said as she leaned forward, bowing her head to the floor in submission.
“But you have to say it. What are you?”
“A rajaakumaaree,” she said.
Ben laughed and suddenly she felt a smack on her ass, “Not tonight. Try again.” Out of the corner of her eye, Priya saw a long leather belt dangling beside her. Her ass cheek was warm with the sensation of the lash.
“A phoohad,” she said.
Another slap, this time harder which somehow made her more aroused not less. “A slut? Yes… definitely that. What else my little slut?”
“A veshney, “she said and was rewarded with another strike across her ass. This time even harder than the last. She let out a little sound that was half yelp and half moan.
“Definitely a whore. I mean, just look at you,” he said. He smacked at her ass a couple more times, enjoying the wiggling she did each time. “Do you like this, slut? Do you want more?”
“Yes, maharaja… I… I like it?”
“So not just a slut… a pain slut then?”
“Yes, maharaja… a dard phoohad… Please whip my ass harder, maharaja.”
Ben smiled to himself, surprised at this little development. He’d intended just to give her nice little ass a playful spanking. He’d never expected this particular side of her to come out. He rewarded her humiliating request with several more strikes, each one harder than the last until she cried out. “Please… no more, maharaja. Your dirty little pain slut thanks you.”
Ben knelt down and pulled her chin up. Her watery eyes flicked back and forth between his as he held his gaze. She looked beautiful but she was only halfway broken and he knew the wanted to completely own her. In every way. He kissed her tenderly and she allowed herself to simply lean into him. She didn’t rub him with her hands or implore him to more action with sounds or motions. She simply sank into him and enjoyed the surprisingly tender kiss.
When they finally broke their kiss, he moved his lips to her ear and whispered. His voice was low and menacing and Priya’s heart raced but his words were what truly made her gush. “What is the most degrading, humiliating act that you can give me, princess?”
“Maharaja…?” she said quietly, “I’m not… I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
“What do you want me to say and I’ll say it?” she begged. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please… I… I’ll do whatever you want… Please… fuck me… please… I need it so badly, Ben.”
The belt lashed against her ass hard, “Maharaja, you dumb cunt.”
She nodded, “Yes… maharaja. I’m so sorry… please. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
Ben smiled and looked at her, “I know you will. But what I want is for you to beg for something that you’ve sworn you’d never do. Something abjectly humiliating that proves to me that you’re truly ready to be used by me in whatever way I want.”
The image that went through Priya’s mind was instant. She knew what it was. Ben saw the moment of recognition that she quickly tried to hide. “What is it, slut? What do you hate that you want to beg me to do?”
“Please, maharaja… anything. I swear.”
“Prove it,” Ben said, lashing at her ass again and causing her to squirm.
“I… I can’t,” she said and another lash struck her caramel butt.
Ben stood up, “You disappoint me, veshney. Maybe you’re not really the whore I thought you were. Get out.”
Priya started to sob. She was so close she just wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to be completely weak. “Please!” she wailed out. If she hadn’t had tears in her eyes, she might have seen the brief moment of empathy that went across Ben’s face.
“Feel free to come back when you’re ready to be a better whore,” he said.
The word clicked in Priya’s head and she realized what she needed to do. She crawled over to him, never breaking eye contact. “I am a whore… a veshney, maharaja. A cheap, trashy little whore who will do anything for money.” She spun around in front of him and turned her ass towards him. “A great man like you should only pay for the best things in life. The most beautiful women. The most submissive sluts. The most skilled whores,” she said. She reached back and spread her ass cheeks wide for him, “And the tightest of holes.”
Ben’s eyes widened as he realized what she was asking.
“Please, maharaja. My cheap slut ass is only worth twenty dollars but it is yours to fuck. Please…,” she paused trying to form the words and failing for a moment. “Please fuck my brown ass, maharaja. Fuck it hard, fast and brutally. It is a virgin hole I’ve saved for you, my glorious white maharaja.”
Ben looked at the woman splayed before him and smiled. Without a word, he walked away leaving Priya face down on the rug with her hands still holding her ass open as she waited. It felt like an eternity as she sat there. She was aware of the coarse fabric against her nipples. The cool draft from the overhead fan that wicked across her bare back. The quiet hum of the bedroom television as it played music she couldn’t quite makeout. Her only movement was to turn her head to the side to look at that family picture of Ben’s great grandfather. Colonel Chilwerth and his unnamed Indian wife. She looked so happy.
Priya was so lost in the woman’s smile of joy that she didn’t notice Ben’s return. Not until she felt the cool drip of liquid on her ass followed quickly by a finger invading her. “So you want your virgin ass fucked by my cock, veshya?”
“Yes, maharaja. Please pound me without mercy or care. Teach me what I’m good for,” she said. Her voice quivered and she quietly added, “Break me.”
Her reward was the man’s cockhead placed at the entrance to her ass. She gripped her cheeks harder and spread them just a little further as he leaned into her. The pressure to invade her caught her by surprise. Her teeth clenched inadvertently as her whole body tensed. Ben’s voice cut through everything as he whispered, “Relax, raajakumaaree.”
She willed herself to relax her muscles and he slipped inside her. It wasn’t painful but it wasn’t particularly pleasant. Not at first. The sense of fullness was strange and as he continued to slide his thick shaft into her, her ass burned with a shocking heat. But then he pulled out and the transition from shaft to cock head took her breath away. It felt amazing. “Oh yes, mighty maharaja. Thank you,” she whimpered.
Ben’s voice demanded, “Where is my cock, slut?”
“In my ass. My formerly virgin ass.”
“And it’s never even been in your cunt has it?”
“No, maharaja.”
“Say it, veshya,” he demanded as he continued to move in and out of her with shallow thrusts causing her to shake and twitch.
“No, maharaja. It’s never been in my cunt. Only my ass. Your ass, maharaja. Your perfect, fat white cock has only invaded my tight Indian ass, maharaja.” Tears were streaming down her face. Tears of joy and humiliation and joyful humiliation. She was experiencing sensations and emotions she’d never even been aware of and loving every bit of it.
“What kind of girl begs for an ass fuck as her first fuck?” Ben said giving her some long hard thrusts that took her breath away.
It took a moment to recover before she answered, “A cheap whore, maharaja. A dirty, pitiful, broken streetwalker.”
“And you still haven’t even told me your name, raajakumaaree,” he said as he returned to short little thrusts.
“I’m just a low caste Veshya, maharaja. You don’t need to know any more than that.”
Suddenly a twenty dollar bill lay beside her face. She started to say something but just then Ben’s voice said, “That’s right, bitch,” and his cock began pummeling her. Everything she’d experienced up to that point paled in comparison to this. The constant sliding in and out. The change of sensation from full to empty and back so rapidly that she could barely keep track. “Little fucking anal slut,” he growled at her as his hands gripped her hair and forcefully wrenched her up. He was doing exactly what she begged for. Fucking her without mercy or remorse. She loved it.
“Yes… yes… yes… fuck yes… fuck that ass!” she screamed, not caring who heard or what they might think of her. Her ass was on fire both from the fucking and the spanking and it was surprisingly pleasant. No. Not just pleasant. Glorious. She loved it.
“Play with yourself, veshya,” he said and Priya gratefully started rubbing her clit. The combination of sensations took her to new heights and it was almost like her mind was switched off in that moment.
Ben pounded her for several minutes like that before he flung her face back down on the ground and gripped her hips. He slammed into her with five or six hard, forceful thrusts before growling out and flooding her with his cum. A tiny little thought whisked through Priya’s frayed mind. What a waste of sperm. That thought and one last little spasm from Ben combined to make her start cumming. She strummed her cunt as she had her first orgasm while being fucked in the ass and she knew without a doubt it wouldn’t be her last. She came hard, screaming a mindless shriek of pure pleasure as she collapsed on the rug a completely spent woman. It was the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had. Truthfully, it was almost too powerful. Too intense. She wondered whether she would want that every time. Ben fell down beside her and she studied his face. His jaw. His cheeks. His eyes and ears. Maybe...
The two new lovers got cleaned up. Priya was surprised at how Ben was able to go back and forth between cocky, dominating Ben to affable, professorial Ben. It was two sides of the same coin, she realized. Both sides were always there and she genuinely liked them both but for VERY different reasons. Later that night Ben made her beg for more orgasms. Made her beg for more whippings. Made her beg for more depravity. He enjoyed making her beg which was good for her because she loved begging. When he finally fucked her cunt, she’d begged him wordlessly by spreading her legs as wide as possible. Then he’d made her beg for her to smack him and he’d reddened her tits and even smacked her cheeks which really inflamed his lusts. She could see his eyes change and something overtook her. When she spontaneously begged, “Please, for another twenty dollars you can spit on your cheap veshya, oh mighty maharaja,” he’d smiled that sick, cocky smile before doing it and bringing them both to an almost immediate orgasm.
When she left in the morning, her entire body was sore. Every muscle was spent. Every bit of skin felt raw from at least one slap and usually many more. She walked on unstead legs to the elevator and down to the cab he’d called for her. She didn’t care who saw her or what they thought. She was happier than she’d ever been.
In the cold light of the next day, her thoughts were more mixed. More scattered. The things she’d done. The things she’d begged to have done to her. They were antithetical to what she thought. Did that mean they were wrong? Or did that mean that her beliefs had been wrong. Or, perhaps, incomplete? Despite the emotional turmoil, she showed back up at his apartment the next night. They hadn’t made plans but she just assumed. Obviously he had as well because there was a note on the door that said simply, “Come in, Veshya.” He knew she’d be back. Was she willing to repeat the last night? What if he wanted even more humiliation and debasement? Was she ready for that?
She wore the same sheer black saree as the night before though this time she’d tied it to be even more revealing. Her breasts were thoroughly well displayed and the wrap ended only an inch or so below her ass. She felt alive with passion and fueled by primal lust and that gave her the courage to open the door and walk into the apartment once again.
She heard the shower running in the background and looked around the apartment for the second time. Unsurprisingly, she returned to the picture of Ben’s great-grandfather and his beautiful, happy bride.
In front of them were 8 kids. Three boys and five girls. All of them looked just as happy as the woman. Priya studied them. The man’s formal military garb contrasted with the woman’s traditional Indian clothing. His hand rested on her shoulder possessively and her hand was placed gently on top of it. As if she was silently asking him to never let her go. She stared at the picture, imagining what life they had. Were they really as happy as they seemed?
“My grandfather told me that they were very happy,” came Ben’s voice from behind her. Answering the question as if he was reading her mind.
“They look it, I admit.”
“You look beautiful,” Ben said. Priya still didn’t turn around. She was too lost in the details of the faces and the happiness of the woman in front of her.
“I look like a common whore,” she said. There was only a hint of venom in the words. It was simply a fact. Spoken objectively and honestly.
“A beautiful veshya but certainly not common.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because you want me to.”
“No I don’t,” she said.
“Lying to your maharaja is bad. Lying to yourself is worse, slut.”
Priya shuddered at the words. The image of herself kneeling in front of Ben flared once again in her head. She turned and there he stood, staring at her. He was completely naked. The thin black hair on his chest matched by the small tuft of hair around his cock. The cock she’d been imagining being conquered by every night for two weeks. She momentarily reexperienced the night before. The forceful fucking of all of her wholes. The conquest that she’d not only allowed but craved. He asked, “What do you want? Do you want to be raajakumaaree? Or veshya?”
“I want to be Priya,” she said simply.
Ben smiled and whispered, “Priya,” for the first time. He walked forward and kissed her. Her lips met his and they both groaned. Hers were slick and sticky from the lipstick. His were full and moist. They danced together, finding their way quickly before their tongues reached out to escalate the kiss. They stayed like that for a moment, sharing an intimate moment without words or thought. Simply enjoying the feel of each other.
When they finally pulled apart, she was practically panting. “Priya,” he said, enjoying the sound of her name on his mouth. “Tell me what you imagine. Tell me what you want.”
Priya didn’t think and didn’t pause. She dropped to her knees and looked up at him. “I want to worship your glorious white cock, my maharaja. I want to be your raajakumaaree when you want it and I want you to make me your veshya whenever the mood strikes you. It’s for you to decide, oh mighty king.”
Ben smiled down at Priya who returned his look with hope shining in her eyes. “So I decide?”
She nodded.
“And what if I want you to be a beautiful proper princess at all times?”
“Then I will make myself the most elegant woman that has ever been. A proud, strong, beautiful woman for you to hold on your arm.”
“And what if I want you to be a cheap whore for the rest of your life?”
Priya shuddered but met his gaze unflinchingly, “Then I will deny you nothing and allow you free use of my body. All my holes. No act will be too depraved or humiliating for a street whore like I will be for you, my maharaja.”
Ben smiled, “I think there’s a balance somewhere between that. Does that sound nice… Priya?”
Priya nodded and said nothing. Her smile spoke volumes, however.
“Let’s go in the bedroom and see if we can’t find that balance.”
“That would make me very happy, maharaja.”
“Oh… and Priya… I think crawling into the bedroom would be most appropriate given what you’re wearing don’t you agree?”
She smiled and put her hands on the floor in front of her, “Yes, maharaja.”
It took them awhile… but they definitely found a balance that made them both very happy.
