“I thought I was hallucinating.” Bela glumly said. “That my guilt was making me imagine you were right there. So I closed my eyes.”
“And then he came inside you.” I said, the images burned in my brain. Bela had closed her eyes after staring at me, opened her mouth and started moaning. Riaz’s brown fingers clasped tightly, almost painfully around her boobs, and I saw her body start shaking rapidly in a telltale climax rhythm.
“Yes.” she said. “I am so sorry.”
And she started crying again. I sighed. It had taken almost an hour to stop her crying, bring her to normal and get her talking again.
After the young buck had shot his jizz into the condom inside my wife’s cunt, he leaned forward in satisfaction to kiss her. But he stopped with his lips half an inch from her face. Because that’s when he saw me. And unlike Bela, he didn’t think I was a hallucination.
“AAAAAHHHH!!” he shouted as his eyes went really wide in terror.
Bela winced at the shriek in her ears and opened her eyes.
“What???” she asked in an annoyed voice.
“SAHAB!! Oh shit oh shit oh shit!!”
That’s when Bela looked at me and realized I was actually there. Her mouth opened wide and she suddenly jerked back, her boobs squeezing back through the bars and she also let out a squeal.
“It’s okay!!” I loudly said and started walking towards the window.
But they had both disappeared.
I walked towards the front of the house. Just as I turned the corner, I saw Riaz run out pulling his underwear on and holding his pants in his hands.
“Wait!!” I shouted.
“AAAAAAHHH!!” he shouted again and clutching his pants, sprinted towards the main gate, jumped over it and started running at a rapid clip.
I was completely nonplussed by the situation. I had no idea what exactly I wanted to do. A part of me, the possessive male ego part, wanted to chase down and beat up the man who had just fucked my wife. But the kinky and depraved part of me recognized that he wasn’t to be blamed. He had made a move like a virile red blooded young man and it had worked. With my wife’s consent, he had gotten to fuck her.
Riaz looked back a couple of times to see if I was giving chase, but kept running even when he saw I wasn’t. He didn’t even stop to put his pants on. Luckily we lived in a remote area so there was no one around to see the strange sight of a young man sprinting in his underwear. I could see why he was terrified. He, a lowly tradesman, had just been caught fucking an upper class man’s wife. Obviously, he expected retribution.
I watched him until he all but disappeared from my sight and walked into the house. He had left all his tools and extra cables in the living room, along with his shirt.
“Bela!” I yelled out and walked to the bedroom assuming she would be there. But on the way, I noticed the bathroom door open and heard her wails. I walked in.
My shy wife…well not so shy anymore…was sitting naked on the floor under a running shower, her face in her hands, bawling her eyes out.
“I am sorry…I am so sorry…I am a horrible person…I am a dirty dirty woman…” she said between sobs as she heard me walk in.
“Bela…sweetheart…it’ll be okay.”
I put my phone and wallet on the sink and sat down next to her, and took her in my arms.
It was like she was having a nervous breakdown. It took half an hour to get her out of the bathroom. I still had a hard-on from watching the whole thing between her and Riaz and wanted to mount her right away. But clearly she was not in the right state of mind. Continuing to cry, she dried herself, got dressed, and then crashed on the bed for another session of weeping and hyperventilation.
I kept assuring her, it will be okay, I was not really angry, it’s all fine, in fact it’s my fault for engineering the situation, etc etc. But it didn’t seem like she heard me. Despite all the horizons she had recently crossed at my prodding, Bela remained at heart a traditional orthodox Indian woman. She was having a hard time coming to terms with the guilt of cheating on me.
Finally I had managed to get her talking. But one mention of him shooting his wad inside her and she was back to crying.
“You will divorce me now and my life will be ruined.” she wailed.
“This again! I told you, I am not going to divorce you. I am not blaming you. In fact if anything, it is my fault. I already told you, I hadn’t really gone anywhere.”
“You…you gave me a test…and I failed.” she whimpered.
“It was not a test. It was a silly horny impulse. Bela…honey…I made this happen.”
She was silent for a while. Then she spoke up.
“Why did you make it happen? Why didn’t you stop it?” she finally said in a level voice.
“Good! Ask me that. Ask me that instead of blaming yourself completely.” I said.
“Okay, well, I am asking you.”
I paused and thought a little.
“I don’t know the complete answer, Bela. It’s not like I actively wanted someone else to…” I almost said fuck but saw her quiver and didn’t want to risk setting her off, “…be with you like that. It was an impulse, a kinky thought. Just like all those times out in the open. or what we have been doing with Shyam. Initially, I thought it was just me who was a pervert and you were playing along just to obey me. But then you told me the Chandan story. Which tells me, you are perverted as well.”
“Perverted. You’re right. My mother said I was a characterless slut.” she sulked.
“I mean perverted in a good way. I obviously like such adventures, Bela. And it seems like you like them too.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Now…don’t cry…stay calm…answer my question honestly…you enjoyed that sex with Riaz, didn’t you?”
She blushed and averted her eyes. And then nodded.
“I will be honest. I didn’t find it as objectionable as I would have. When I started the ball rolling, I just wanted to see how far you will go. If I wanted, I could have stopped it any time. I didn’t. I kept watching.”
She looked at me quietly.
“Is that what you want? To see me have sex with other men?”
“I don’t know, Bela. I myself don’t know all the answers. I need to think.” I honestly said. “What about you? I mean…I only started this because initially, I saw that you enjoyed showing off for Riaz.”
“Yes, but you were home.”
“I saw what happened later, after he took his shirt off. Don’t wince…he has a good young body. You felt attracted. You acted on an impulse. Nothing wrong with that.”
“It was still wrong.” And she started crying again.
“Listen darling, maybe it’s best we take a break from this topic. This is getting us nowhere. Just calm down. Make me some chai.”
She nodded as she wiped her eyes, and got up.
The rest of the day went pretty much like that. I occasionally tried to bring up the topic. But Bela was too much of an emotional mess to have a serious discussion. And would start crying. So I dropped the topic altogether. As long as I didn’t mention it, Bela was happy pretending nothing was untoward. She went back to being the dutiful homely housewife. I decided my wife is not the talkative type on this issue. As I had seen before, talking about it or making her aware of it just makes her clam up. So maybe best to play it cool for a while.
For the next few days, things improved but just a little. Bela was still randomly sobbing, but the frequency had reduces a lot. Thankfully, in bed, she was as excitable as ever before, so that part of my life was unaffected. But her orthodox values would take some time to deal with. She had gone back to wearing a sari all day again, and her clothes in recent days had been an indication of her mood. So even the reduction of the crying, I took as a positive sign.
I examined my own feelings. And I realized that even though I had felt pangs of jealousy and regret right at the moment Bela crossed that final line with Riaz, looking back, I only felt turned on by what had happened. I thought about that scene many times at night and throughout the day, seeing her boobs shake outside the window bars, how those dark fingers of the worker looked against her creamy white skin, how she was crying out for him to bang him harder. It definitely made me horny.
At the same time, my practical side was a little shaken at what had happened. Strip away the eroticism from the whole episode, and what had happened was, a common random worker that my wife had known barely 24 hours, had been able to seduce her very easily. Thankfully, she had remembered to use a condom, so there was no danger of disease or pregnancy. The guy had gotten scared and run away, and never shown his face again. And he had not taken any pictures or videos of what had happened. So there was no long term problem that we had to deal with. It could be just treated as a one-night stand or rather a one-afternoon stand.
If things had to be pushed, I would have to be more careful going forward. But move forward, I somehow had to.
Finally it seemed like Bela was almost back to normal, which means her sobbing was down to just a couple of times a day. And didn’t last beyond a minute or two.
I decided to roll the dice. I had to draw her out of her shell. In the past, when she wavered or hesitated, she had done things in her “obedience” to me. Initially it had seemed like the whole obedience thing was purely her orthodox upbringing and small town values, which means that the husband is king of the house. But as I thought more, I realized that at least in the sexual domain, it also gave her an excuse to justify her actions to herself. To get over the shame or the guilt. So whatever she was truly comfortable doing, but felt guilty about, she could be convinced to do using obedience as the excuse.
“Bela, sit, we need to talk.” I sternly said one morning before going to work.
She meekly sat down. She was wearing a very simple blue sari and a traditional blouse and of course the mangalsutra.
“Now listen…you know I am your husband. I know best, right?”
“Yes, ji.” she said looking down at the table, and sub-consciously fingered her mangalsutra.
“So as your husband, I am telling you, the sobbing, crying and all, stops now. And I mean NOW!” I raised my voice.
She looked into my eyes surprised, then lowered her eyes again.
“As you say, ji.”
“What happened happened. Thinking back, I enjoyed watching it. That should be enough.”
“As you say, ji.” she said.
“Also, I am now telling you…not asking you, but telling you, that Shyam will be coming to dinner tonight. And every night until his family moves here.”
She paused for a second and I felt her ears go red, maybe at the recollection of what had happened the last time Shyam had come for dinner.
“Whatever you say, ji.”
“Good.” I got up, kissed her, and left.
At work I cornered Shyam alone when I got the chance. It had been a couple of weeks since that night when he had fingered Bela and she had given him a handjob. Both of them had subsequently been embarrassed by it and never spoken about it. Even though he lived next door, he had never come over after that on his own. At work, Shyam stuck only and only to work related matters.
“Listen Shyam, you are coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Oh…it’s okay, sir. I can get a tiffin from the village. I don’t want bhabhiji to feel any…inconvenience.”
“Shyam, I am your boss. I am telling you that you will be dining at our place. That means you will be dining at our place. That’s final.”
“Ok sir.” he gulped.
The rest of the day Shyam seemed nervous and kept stealing glances at me. Finally, work got done.
“Honey, Shyam and I are on our way.” I called Bela.
“Okay, ji.” Bela said. “Listen…”
“Are you going to do it again?” she softly asked.
“What you used to do.”
“What did I used to do?”
I knew exactly what she meant, of course. Exposing her, stripping her naked, fingering her, and all that.
But I wanted Bela to explicitly say it.
“You know what I mean.” she said and even over the phone I could sense she was blushing.
“Do you not want me to?”
“As you said in the morning, you are my husband. Whatever you want goes.” she said sincerely.
“I don’t know. I might probably do it again if I feel like it. Unless you don’t want me to.” I gave her a way out. If she really didn’t want those adventures resumed, now was the chance for her to say it.
She was silent for a while.
“Bela?” I asked.
“Get onions on the way. We are almost out.”
“Okay. And Bela, enough with the sari. Wear something nice.”
“What do you want to wear, ji? I will wear whatever you want.” she said.
I gave it some thought. I was tempted to tell her, be naked. This was the first time in a while that we would be resuming these games. I didn’t want to push her too much and cause her to go back into a shell. So maybe I should ease her in.
“You know that dark green polo shirt? Wear that.” It was one of the first western clothes I had bought for her. And initially I didn’t know her size too well, so this one was snug, and her boobs pushed against it very prominently. That would be a nice balance, I thought.
“Ok…so your wish is that I wear that dark green polo shirt?” she asked.
“Yeah…do you have a problem with it?”
“No, as you wish, ji.” she said. I detected a slight hint of resentment in her answer.
As Shyam and I drove home, I decided to hit pause on the game. I had wanted things to return to a naughty clip and was hoping a night with our old buddy Shyam might be a good way to ease her into things. But from the way she had answered that last question, and how she was now adding “ji” to almost every sentence, it seemed like passive aggressive behavior. Obviously, Bela was feeling uncomfortable, but was too obedient or bitter to flatly say no.
This is what I was thinking as we got home and rang the doorbell. Pause on the game, re-assess the situation in a few days. For today, just normal socializing, a couple of drinks and dinner.
So you could have knocked me down with a feather when the door opened.
There stood Bela wearing that dark green polo shirt I had asked her to wear. It fit her torso perfectly, which is what I loved. Her boobs were perfectly wrapped in it like skin tight leotards. And her nipples were poking against the fabric. Which meant she wasn’t wearing a bra.
But it wasn’t her not wearing her bra that had surprised me. Not only was she not wearing a bra, but she was not wearing anything other than the shirt I had asked her to wear.
Yes! That was it. Below the waist, she was completely naked. Not just that, she had obviously just shaved her pubic hair, but this time, she had left a thin line of hair or a landing strip on.
“Your bag?” she asked casually. I wordlessly handed her the bag.
“Hmmm…yes.” I handed it over and looked at Shyam, who was staring at her with a poker face. There was nothing here he hadn’t seen before, but I don’t think he expected it to restart instantly.
That dinner was a welcome development for me, because it meant Bela had at least somewhat gone back to normal. Not only was she okay appearing and walking around bottom-less in front of our friendly guest, but there was also a slight spring in her step, showing that she enjoyed it. Shyam seemed less tense too, because he knew that things were okay. He obviously did not know what had happened with Riaz, so for him, the long break in invitations seemed to result from the little action he and my wife had enjoyed together in full sight of me.
For that night, I decided to take a wait and watch approach. I didn’t take off Bela’s shirt, nor did anything with her. Shyam and I had a few drinks as we admired Bela’s naked butt and well groomed pussy, talked about work, and other matters. I wanted to see if, like last time, Bela would take the lead in doing something with Shyam. But she did not. She was like she used to be in the early days of the game, a willing but passive participant.
Shyam went back to his place after dinner. And Bela and I fucked like bunnies right after.
“Did you enjoy our dinner tonight, Bela?” I asked after sex.
“If you enjoyed it, that’s what is important to me, ji.” she said flatly.
Yet again, an indication that she was totally committing herself to this submissive role. I am sure her own kinky and exhibitionist side was thrilled with the return to dinners with Shyam. But she was couching it in the garb of total obedience.
Over the next few nights, I decided to test out the different boundaries and internal rules of this new total obedience approach. The next evening when I called to tell her we were on her way, she asked me what she should wear. I told her, wear whatever you like, totally your choice.
Shyam must have been a little puzzled when we walked in and she was in a proper sari. To him, it must have seemed like a step backward. The dinner that night was completely respectable. The next evening, a similar call, and her similar question.
“Shyam, what would you like Bela to be wearing tonight?” I asked.
“My wife…Bela…what should she wear tonight?”
He swallowed nervously.
“Why are you asking me, sir?”
“Just want to know your preference.”
“Whatever you and bhabhiji like, sir.”
“But still, if you had to choose.”
He stared at his feet for a few seconds.
“Something…western and …comfortable.” the implication in the comfortable was obvious.
I repeated the message to Bela. She said okay.
That night she opened the door in a t-shirt and track-pants, as if telling us silently, this is what she considered comfortable.
The following evening, same call, same question. I was prepared to test the other side of things.
“Nothing.” I said.
“As you wish, ji.” she quietly said.
And Shyam gulped when she opened the door wearing just her mangalsutra and nothing else. She stayed naked all night, without giving any indication of discomfort.
I am sure Shyam was confused by all these mixed messages, but he was too polite and too intimidated to say or do anything. One day my hot young wife would be fully dressed, another day totally naked. Must have seemed random to him.
One thing I did notice though. That the two nights she had been fully dressed, she had also been relatively passive in bed. And the two nights when she was fully or nearly naked, she was clearly more aroused, came more often, and was much more vocal.
After these few nights of running controlled tests, I was ready for my next major experiment.
The bosses back at head office in Delhi had been asking me to come in whenever there was some lull in activity and make a report on the progress of our new plant. That lull was now about to approach. I thought this work related trip would give me an opportunity to also test something that I had been wondering about for a long time.
The reason Shyam was such a convenient choice for our games was how docile and decent he was. He had almost never made any kind of a move in face of tremendous provocations from me and once from Bela. Bela herself, always docile, had gone into an extra self-enforced level of docility and obedience. Although she had made some moves on her own that one night when she got fingered by Shyam, and then later when she got fucked by that random Riaz fellow, since then, she had become a completely pliant plaything. I had been the only aggressor driving things.
“I thought I was hallucinating.” Bela glumly said. “That my guilt was making me imagine you were right there. So I closed my eyes.”