The Lord of the House

Chapter 7 - Reversal

Someone else inhabited Kriti the next morning, the self who used to be proficient at her job, the most independent version of herself. She finished putting up her hair, took her keycard, and slipped out down the hall to the executive lounge. She wanted to eat breakfast with the other business travelers to

normalize

her mind before the meeting she was to attend.

She had showered in the small hours after the Thakur had awakened her, lifted her legs onto his shoulders, and worked off the last of his blue pill with vigor approaching violence. He had gone immediately back to sleep, of course.

As she dressed, Kriti had no idea how this suit had slipped past the Thakur. Perhaps it had been its color, a vermilion that he could rarely resist. Maybe he had only seen the sleeveless dress, not realizing that it paired with a cunningly tailored jacket. In any event, it made her feel competent and strong, a boost that she'd need to go into this room with strangers on whom success of the family business expansion depended, strangers who didn't know that she had been reduced to a sex toy. She had to suspend her anxiety that the Thakur's exhibitionism and overblown sense of his own power might prompt him to reveal this.

She was careful not to linger after eating and went back to the suite. The Thakur was dressed and drinking tea in the living room. When he looked up, he appeared prepared to scold her but immediately, his expression changed to pleasure.

"Well, you should make an impression," he said, with some satisfaction. He set down the teacup.

"I went down the hall to get breakfast, I didn't want to disturb you too early."

He chuckled, "I was

quite

spent. But that has never stopped me from attending to business." He consulted his watch. "We should go."

Thankfully, he was all business as they went to the downstairs conference room. He introduced her to the attorneys (five men and one woman) as Kriti Rana, his daughter-in-law. Lowell and Sunil then joined on the large screen mounted at the end of the room.

The lead lawyer immediately acknowledged Kriti as one of the certification team members. Surprisingly, the Thakur interjected to say that she had authored the application at the request of Lowell's team. Apparently, he had reason to appear progressive in this meeting. Everyone turned to look at Lowell at that point, but he deferred back to Kriti to facilitate the meeting.

Kriti took them through the application, the current review status, and her areas of concern. While all of this could have taken place virtually, she recognized that the lawyers were paying attention to how she held up under questioning. The final certification review would take place in person at the factory. She soon hit her accustomed stride, enjoying the discussion because she was well-prepared. She took notes on any areas for additional study.

After an hour, they wrapped up this topic and the Thakur politely excused her and Lowell. She glanced at Sunil on her way out and smiled as warmly as she could given the setting. Once in the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief, realizing only then how anxious she had been. On a whim, she went to the third-floor café's garden seating and ordered an iced coffee. The air felt quite warm and humid but once she had hung her jacket on the back of the chair, she felt comfortable. There were a couple of other guests seated outside, most seemed to prefer the air conditioning. She stayed only thirty minutes or so and returned to the suite. She was hanging her jacket when she heard the main door. The Thakur soon appeared in the second bedroom doorway.

"The attorneys are pleased," he said. "So am I. Is it possible that I'm the only man to become aroused hearing a woman speak in depth about Product Class 2 standards? Or were there multiple hard cocks in the room?"

He had reduced all her hard work to an aphrodisiac. Kriti mentally brushed it off. She knew that even in a room of mostly men, only the Thakur and perhaps his son would have been thinking that way. What she brought to the table meant

money

to the others, not sex.

But the Thakur's buoyant mood gave her an idea. He liked subservience but perhaps he simply needed to encounter something different that satisfied him better. Not too different, but just enough to seem exotic compared to his typical fare. She tilted her head at him and said, "You only feel that way because of what we've shared lately. They haven't experienced it." She approached him and caught his hand on the way past, leading him to the office.

The imposing table that served as a desk had one large, upholstered chair without arms or wheels. She pulled it out to the side of the table. "Please sit, Thakur," she asked, demurely. She didn't elaborate. He looked at her skeptically. She counted on his ego to play along. When he sat, she knelt. She placed one of his hands on each of his thighs. Deliberately slowly, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped, then unbuttoned his white shirt at the bottom so that it could be more easily folded aside. By then, his cock had poked eagerly out. She took it in hand.

"Oh, I approve," he sighed.

She began licking, flicking her tongue over him, punctuating with an occasional suck, teasing more than satisfying. He groaned and lifted his hips. But when he did that, she backed away and only returned when he remained still, rewarding him for not choking her by taking him deeper into her throat on her own. He groaned more loudly, to which she responded with harder hand strokes. "You've such a talent for cock sucking," he husked, struggling to be still. His hands left his thighs to reach behind her and unzip her dress to her midback. He stroked her shoulders as he bared them, then up the nape of her neck. It made her shiver. "You like that," he said, and repeated the movements.

Her ministrations to him were designed to make up for her own lack of readiness, but suddenly, she was warming and wetting in response to this unusually gentle touch. So much the better. Fluidly, she stood and gathered the slim, past-knee skirt high enough that she could straddle him in the armless chair. With one hand, she gripped the back of the chair and with the other, guided him into position. His hands settled firmly on her hips but despite his pressure, she determined the rate at which she slid down over him. Kriti took a calculated risk. "Ohhh," she moaned as though this were the best feeling.

"Ahhh," he murmured in response. When she had settled into his lap, he kissed the join of her neck and shoulder, grazed her skin with his teeth. "You're so wet for me."

"Yes," she agreed.

"Tell me louder what you are."

"I'm so wet for you." Hearing herself, inwardly, she cringed.

At that, he clutched her to him, knocking her off her feet. "I want to fuck you so hard."

"Your cock feels so good inside me, I need more, let me move," she said, willing to lie a little to stoke his ardor. The Thakur made an inarticulate noise that she took for agreement and softened his grip. Kriti got her feet back under her so she could move against him. Talking during sex didn't come naturally to her, but she could tell it was making him crazy by how he swelled inside her. "I didn't know this could feel this good," she added.

"I can show you so much," he groaned. "I didn't mind you hating me, but isn't this better?"

She held onto the chair back and rubbed against him in circles, driving him deeper in the bargain. It did feel good, no doubt. Having freedom of movement was so much better. "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed as if replying to his question.

"You dirty bitch," he murmured approvingly, "go ahead, fuck me with that sweet cunt."

She pushed the dress off one arm to give herself better range of motion. She arched back in pleasure as though unaware she was offering the freed breast to him. Immediately, he sucked the nipple into his mouth and kneaded the firm flesh with one hand. He had learned enough by now to flick her nipple with his tongue just so. It connected a pleasure circuit that woke up her G spot. She shifted to bouncing on him, using the back of the chair for leverage, causing him to strike just the right place inside while keeping pressure where she most needed it. His mouth was full, but she heard his rising pleasure.

Kriti tossed her head. "I'm fucking you," she dared to say, just to gauge his reaction. "Soon, I'm going to come on your amazing cock."

He whimpered and shuddered, almost losing it, but she took a chance and didn't stop, instead she shifted from bouncing to rocking. Having control meant that she could chase what felt best and it didn't take much longer, she cried out as her muscles clamped down with the first bolt of ecstasy. Her thighs squeezed tight on his hips as the pulses shook her. She was still shocking and moaning when he bolted up from the chair and bore her to the carpet. "Oh, fucking hell," he groaned as he thrust into her fast and rough, buried his face again in her breasts, sucking until he brought himself off so hard she thought he hurt himself.

Her pleasure had been real, the aftermath was calm and blissful. She stroked his hair as his heart raced against her, but she closed her eyes so that the chemical bath would associate itself with Sunil's face instead.

At length, the Thakur groaned. "I have to prepare for my next meeting."

"Eat something," she said, lazily, "it will help."

As he went to the front of the suite to follow her advice, she withdrew to the bathroom and changed to a robe, hanging the dress so as not to spoil the fine wool. As she sat for a cup of tea while the Thakur wolfed down food, she felt his essence slipping out of her and was glad for the waffled cotton.

When he had eaten, he looked up at her. His look of satisfaction turned to a half-smile. "From the first time I saw you with Sunil, I suspected you'd take to this. You're an apt pupil and

that

was inspired."

She lowered her eyes. "I worry that I'm becoming

improper

."

He chuckled and raised an instructing finger. "Remember what I told you before, Bahu. Know that pleasing me is your higher calling. Your desire serves me. Never feel shame for it. My head is clear. I will have a very successful afternoon as a result."

She sipped her tea. It was best not to say anything further.

When he rose to leave, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "In a bit, I will send someone to the lobby to escort you should you want to see some of the city and have lunch outside the hotel. You will have a massage here in the room at 4. A car will pick you up in the circle at 6:30. Be elegantly dressed."

***

In the lobby, Kriti saw a woman dressed in a blazer with the hotel logo walking toward her from across the lobby. At the suggestion of Anabel - her escort - they took a car and lunched at Masque, a half hour south, which allowed Kriti to see more of the downtown along the way. At her request, they stopped on the way back at Maharashtra Nature Park, she particularly wanted to see the Butterfly Garden. They made one more stop at a shop Kriti had found online.

They arrived back at the hotel in time for her to shower before the massage. The therapist arrived promptly at 4.

After completing her entire back, including legs, arms, neck and head, the therapist helped her turn over. She massaged her belly and then each of her hands. This nearly put Kriti to sleep. Then, she worked on each foot. Kriti sighed, feeling knots dissolve, some mental ones too. The therapist ran her thumbs along each thigh in the channels between large muscles, softly and then more firmly. This was almost painful at first, but the discomfort eased. At this point, Kriti did fall asleep.

The therapist woke her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder.

"Mrs. Rana, our massage is complete. Don't get up until you feel ready. Thank you for allowing me to attend to you."

Kriti thanked the woman effusively. She felt both rested and energized. She listened to some music while showering and considering the impending evening. The Thakur's standard practice would be to have done something to cause her to let down her guard (a luxurious massage, for example) and later, surprise her (unpleasantly) to demonstrate control. Expecting something unexpected was wise.

Standing before the closet, she debated whether to select one of the long, showy evening gowns from the Thakur's preselection, or the purchase she had made today. To do the latter would be an open challenge. She might incur wrath and punishment. Or not. In any case, she would know.

The driver helped Kriti exit the car in front of a mansion lit with exterior spotlights in a bold fuchsia hue. Set seemingly far back on a tree-lined private drive, it was difficult to believe that the house was still in Mumbai proper. Music faintly wafted from an inner courtyard. The Thakur stood at the top of the entry stairs. He started to descend to offer her an arm but froze, staring at her. As she made her way carefully on her own toward him, a long time since she had climbed stairs in heels, Kriti silently reminded herself to be brave, she had done this on purpose.

With her own money, she had purchased the expensive Tom Ford dress, velvet in a color quite like the morning's suit but richer because of the fabric, strapless, with a plunging front rising to architectural peaks just below her collarbones. Although just covering her knees, the dress showed the inner curves of her breasts and fit closely to her waist and hips in a decidedly Western manner. She wore her hair loose and straight, the weight of it swinging as she moved. Her eyes were dramatically made up, her lips bore a neutral shimmer. A simple gold wrist cuff, gold earrings, and a heavy gold collar-style choker completed a highly polished look. She had followed his instructions to dress in an elegant manner but interpreted it in her own way. No one could mistake her for anyone but an important woman with means.

She stopped on the step just below the Thakur and smiled up at him. "Thank you for a splendid massage," she said to him, "I've never had the benefit of such an accomplished practitioner."

He nodded once. His jaw had set in an unfamiliar manner.

Kriti couldn't discern whether he was angry. If he mentioned that she had gone outside his clothing choices, it would be an admission of sorts that he had lost control. Simply ignoring it might diminish its importance, however, ignoring was not his way.

"You look

spectacular

," he said in an artificially mild tone. "Come, I must show you around."

He took her elbow to escort her indoors. Stepping through the door into the air conditioning, they entered a casino in full swing with blackjack, poker, baccarat, and roulette tables. The crowd was a mixture of locals and foreigners, all dressed to impress.

"This sort of gambling isn't permitted in Mumbai, so there are no official casinos, only the racetrack," said the Thakur. "A friend of mine from the club creates these events once a month. Someone volunteers their home and he curates. It isn't illegal to

attend

." The Thakur accepted a glass of champagne and handed it to her. He reached for a whisky for himself.

She politely listened to a tutorial from him on poker, as though she had never played, and then she nearly cleaned the table out in two hands. Studiously, she lost the third hand but had only bet a portion of her winnings. She asked the Thakur to show her some of the other games. As they left the table, he chuckled quietly. "Well done," he said.

Kriti started to realize that people were staring at her--men in particular. She looked around more carefully. There were women here wearing considerably less than she was. There were more beautiful women present. She had, apparently, struck a strong note.

Kriti stood next to the Thakur while he played at baccarat when a man in a tuxedo approached her. He was so almost-beautiful as to suggest

film star

but she couldn't place him.

He leaned in to be heard, but not too close as to seem presumptuous. "Madame, please excuse me., I will attempt English in case we might have the language in common. I'm Rajikant."

His English sounded far better than an attempt. "That is for the best. I don't speak Marati," she replied, "but English is preferable. My name is Kriti." He smelled amazing.

"Kriti," he repeated with a smile. "It is an interesting party, no?"

"I had no idea such evenings existed," she replied. "I don't really gamble but it is wonderful for people-watching."

"It is." His smile was warm all the way through his dark eyes. "You are here with someone?" He touched his thumb to his third finger, indicating that he had seen her ring.

She held her breath and nodded toward the Thakur at her side, knowing that he was paying acute attention despite seeming absorbed in the hand.

"Ah, of course," the man said with ill-concealed surprise, probably regarding their age difference. "I mean no offence. One wishes no regrets in life, and I could not pass by without inquiring." His warmth had not diminished.

"No offence taken," she said with a smile. "I appreciate the compliment." At school and at work she had always attracted attention, often unwelcome. It felt like a long time, however, that she had been sequestered, and he had been not at all predatory. That quickly, she felt aroused in the way of a distant glow. It was something she had felt before in the presence of choices not pursued.

"A pleasure to meet you, Kriti." He clinked his glass to hers and stepped away.

Unsurprisingly, the Thakur lost his hand to the Banker. He returned his full attention to Kriti as he drew her away from the table. "Your intention seems to have come to fruition."

She cocked her head at him.

He stroked her uncovered hair as they walked. "There are many sophisticated people here--some not... but disregarding those--you move among them all with ease. You wanted to show me that they would see you. As one of them."

Judiciously, she sipped. The champagne was lovely. "A man of your power shouldn't be seen among the elite with someone who seems... cowed. Or wide-eyed."

Something flickered in his eyes that seemed almost like

respect

. That would be too much to ask of someone accustomed to regarding women as toys. But he understood how she reflected upon him tonight. He actually craved it, whether or not he was aware. He stepped closer, free hand caressing her upper arm. As he pressed a kiss just in front of her ear, he brushed against her enough for her to know that he was hard.

There was an opportunity here. Kriti tilted her head to prolong the kiss and squeezed his forearm. Her pulse raced as she considered options. She took his hand and began winding past the tables, chatting about how beautiful the house was and that they should sneak a better look. Down a long hallway, she turned to the left toward the pool behind the house. There were people everywhere but most of them had clustered either at the tables and indoor bar, or the pool and outdoor bar. Leading to the doors going outside, there was a large bathroom, then a series of small frosted-glass doors. She tried a handle and found it unlocked. As she suspected, it opened to a small changing room with shelves of towels, a bench before a narrow ledge serving as a place to set cosmetics, and a fluffy rug. She shut and locked the door behind them. Turning toward the Thakur, she set her glass on the far end of the ledge. Keeping her eyes downcast, she said, "I... I find that I don't want to wait until later."

"Nor should you," he husked and then kissed her mouth. He was rough, as always, but he was at least inclined to mimic her tongue movements rather than nearly choke her as he used to.

Kriti unzipped him, leaving his trousers buttoned underneath the cummerbund. As she moved cloth out of the way, his cock fairly sprang out. She leaned one hand back on the ledge, testing it, and found it strong enough to help brace her.