Nitya sighed with anticipation. She was in her home, dreaming about the events about the past month. It had changed her for good. For the better or for worse, time would tell. But she was infatuated with the situation, and couldn't step away, however dangerous it could get.
30 days earlier
Nitya was a married woman. 30 years old. And stunningly beautiful. Married 2 years ago, she had a reasonably happy marriage, although devoid of much sexual pleasure, and had given up coaxing her husband into a more sexually appealing lifestyle. Being a housewife, this was undoubtedly harder, as her frustration built up over the months since her marriage to Sidharth, and she had no outlets to release it.
And what a pity that was. She had been blessed with a beautiful frame, and had been gifted with abundant curves on every part of her body a longing man set his eyes on. Her torso was exceptionally busty, unable to cover the fact her tits were at least a 34DD, and they jutted out proudly, displaying no hints of sagging yet. Her areolae were exceptionally big, like little pebbles even when they were soft, although they had never been aroused to full attention. Yet. Her breasts gave way to a petite navel, but abundant hips, succulent in their curves, curving down into her vagina, which she tried to keep freshly trimmed for the weather, and her bronze legs traveled down for miles, ending in her petite manicured feet.
Her only entertainment was phone calls with her friends, and conversations with her family, as she hunted to get a job and back into the working lifestyle.
In the midst of all this, she was struggling to find sexual release, and hadn't discovered the pleasures of masturbation yet, often frowning upon its practice.
This was all until they had hired Nishant. The new cleaning worker. With Sidharth at work all day, every time he would be in the house would be alone with Nitya, and this gave him quite some time alone with the gorgeous wife.
He was extroverted, polite to a fault, and charismatic. All at once. And he was young. Very young, at just 21, he seemed miles ahead of men his age in terms of maturity, much to Nitya's puzzlement. She always treated servants with respect, but had to admit she was slightly enamored with Nishant. He was excellent at starting and maintaining conversations as he cleaned, and very quickly became a source of entertainment to her, regaling her with stories about his humble beginnings, and the tales that came with it. At the same time, he was never openly suggestive, complimenting her every now and then, never openly expressing his lust for her, disguising it with subtle hints, instead opting to play it slowly.
But this was normal behavior for him. Nishant was a serial womanizer. He may have been from a lower economic background, but he had learnt the art of seduction quite early in his life, and used it devastatingly to attract women far outside his league, letting his personality do the talking.
After all, he had specific needs. Specific demands of a peculiar nature. He had grown to indulge in acts of dominance, and was increasingly attracted to the act of being the dominant in his recent sexual conquests.
And Nitya presented a unique opportunity to him. It was clear to him she had seldom experienced pleasure in her life. Maybe never. And that was perfect for him. He was going to show her exactly what she was missing, and that he would be the solution to that.
She was someone he could fully mold to service his desires.
It started by gaining her trust. From the second he joined, he made it clear he was not interested in her, a clear contradiction to the usual behavior from these types of men she usually encountered. He already had her curiosity before. And now he had her attention. The demure wife had fallen into his web, and he could begin.
And he did. Over the next days and weeks, he steadily started holding direct eye contact with her, locking eyes with an intensity she had never seen before. This caused her to blush when he started doing it. And that was the first sign of her nature. Submissive. But not entirely. While she blushed, she steadily held his gaze, in an act of defiance. This excited Nishant immensely. She had a fighting spirit. And she would find extraordinary pleasure when he broke the boundaries of her limits. He was a masochist, and there was nothing he liked more than a fight.
And so he laid the trap over the next few weeks. The subtle hints at her beauty were no longer disguised, laced with mischief. She began looking forward to his daily visits, and became enraptured with him. The more she fell for him, the further he moved away from her, creating a longing so unbearable she didn't know what was causing her to act so wanton. For someone miles below her in the social and economic ladder. She was a respectable wife of a hotshot engineer, and here he was, the local ruffian, who was up to no good, seducing high class women all the livelong day.
He made his move one fruitful afternoon. As he was walking by the kitchen, he saw her cleaning some dishes by the sink. Setting his mop down, he moved behind her, and in a loud breath, whiffed her neck, right by her ears, the sound unmistakable.
She was shocked, the plate slipping out of her hand, and she immediately whipped around, outraged by what he had just done.
'What the hell do you think you're doing Nishant? What the fuck was that? Don't you have any manners? I'm going to call my husband right now!', she exclaimed, demanding an explanation from him.
He did the exact opposite. Plastering a smile on his face, he leaned back, and smirked.
'We both know that's not going to happen. We also know I'm the route to realizing your desires', he continued in a low octave.
And he leaned right back in. Moving some of her hair behind her neck, he moved his mouth to her ear, and whispered. 'Take the plunge with me, and see the heights I'll take you to.'
He proceeded to make his most daring move yet. Planting a light kiss on her nape, he pulled back, waiting for her response. However, his lips lingered for a second longer, and he felt it immediately. The slight tilt of her head backwards. She had just exalted in the sensation, giving in to his ministrations, and he caught it.
Moving back and away from her, he went back to pick up his mop, leaving her dazed, her eyes glassy with confusion. What lay beneath them was lust and longing, and she had just given it away.
Picking up a piece of paper and a pen from the table next to him, he scribbled a note on it, and looked back at her gorgeous face, winked, and made his way out of the apartment.
Nitya was stunned into inaction. It took her 2 full minutes to regain her bearings, accepting what had just happened. What was striking was that she didn't feel repulsed at what just happened. She was aroused. Intrigued. Her loins wet.
Walking over excitedly, she read the contents of the note with bated breath. It was certainly intriguing and erotic.
'I know you want to let loose, we both know it. But sometimes, the path to letting loose is to give up control, and just be taken for a ride. Meet me 2 hours from now, and bring an extra outfit with you.Until then, I will dream of your luscious curves. See you soon.'
She exhaled a long held breath. It was 1 in the afternoon, so there was quite some time before her husband got home. His directions couldn't be clearer. Their meaning though, was not. What was he going to do to her? It was clear he wanted her complete submission to his whims, but what they were, she had no idea. She had to admit to herself that whatever they were, they would be extreme and peculiar for someone like her, a married woman who had barely consummated her marriage.
Yet, approximately an hour later, she had left her apartment with a bag that nestled the extra outfit he asked her to bring. No, ordered her to.
From their previous conversations, she knew where he lived, and heard it was not a very well-to-do area, and was well aware of the stares she would get from the 'uncouth' men, many of whom used to openly leer at her at the local weekend markets. In order to prepare, she wore a modest Indian clothing piece, the
salwar kameez
, and draped a dupatta over her heavy chest, trying her best to hide her fleshy boobs, and wore sandals that covered her toes, trying not to expose any skin.
Draping her sunglasses, she got out of the taxi she had hailed right to his house, and stepped out, her gaze fixed on the badly cobbled street, right in front of the decrepit building where he lived.
Surprisingly, the typical leering looks of the men mulling around the complex weren't visible. Instead, knowing smirks plastered their faces. Some looks of disgust and jealousy too. None of them understood Nishant's ways, and the only reason they allowed him to continue with his conquests is that he, sometimes, shared his spoils of war. And so they looked on, as she hurriedly entered the building in shame, her eyes downcast.
Finally in front of his door, she didn't even see a bell, and knocked a few times. Hearing movement inside, she waited, and was met in a few seconds with his young face, a beaming smile on his mouth.
'Nitya! You came! How nice of you, please come in!' He exclaimed with happiness, fully knowing that she would turn up, but decided to give her this small win.
Blushing, she quickly made her way inside, not wanting to be seen by anyone on the floor.
Now in the apartment with him, she waited at the entrance, unsure of what to do. After all, she was here purely by her impulse, and hadn't paused to think of what would happen now.
But she needn't have worried. Nishant seemed to know what he was doing.
Taking her hands, he led her to a couch, and sat both of them down, looking straight into her eyes, making her uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. She looked away, and examined the state of the room.
Surprisingly, it was kept neat, and although the walls and floors were in despicable condition, the items themselves were lined neatly, and kept reasonably clean. What drew her attention was the door behind them on the couch. He had deliberately left it open, and she blushed, noticing the floor bed smack in the center, although the sides of the rooms were blocked by the small size of the door. It was clear what the room was used for, although it contained much more than she expected, understanding that he probably didn't have the money for a proper bed.
And yet, the cheap and dirty nature of the situation aroused her. It was the classic case of a high class woman, falling for a man below her, enjoying the pleasures he was going to inflict on her. And unknown to her, the many dimensions of pain too.
