Model Wife To Mleccha Ch 02

Step by Step Submission

This is a continuation of Model Wife to Mleccha, and readers would benefit from having read that. It is a complete story on its own. Please be respectful in the comments or I will disable them.

My name is Jan Thomas, I was once the model of the good wife, but since meeting Vivek, I was on a journey to become a good Mleccha instead.

It had become normal, this most abnormal of things. Here I was, good redheaded wife, mother, and teacher, starting my day by going up to the roof, undressing for Vivek's webcams and sunbathing. Discovering the cameras were there and he was watching had followed the first time I caught myself almost masturbating out of sexual frustration. Vivek, that beautiful dark Hindu man, our IT support teacher, didn't just give me permission, but ORDERED me to do so. Now I went each day to perform for his cameras. It slipped into more. He would come to the roof and direct me. How can I explain, to do what he said gave me intense pleasure. To be driven to the edge, then ordered not to cum made me almost helpless, but when finally given permission my body just about came apart I orgasmed so strongly. Vivek was engaged to Sitta, and would not lay a finger on me. He was going to be a good husband; a better one than I had because he could please me more than any love I have had without even touching me.

Vivek and I did lunch together in the cafeteria every day. It was a natural progression I didn't even notice happening. I would be floating on a cloud of relaxation and pleasure from Vivek's direction, and never had I been allowed to give him anything in return. I was raised to always give a gift for a gift, so I felt so deeply in Vivek's debt that I began to look for any way to make even a little of that debt up. I needed to please him even a tiny bit as much as he pleased me. I began by cleaning up his tray and dishes, then I just seemed natural that I let him sit down and I went to fetch both of our foods for us. Soon I was baking things for him at home and bringing them in. Soon I was bringing things to his classroom, and for his students as well.

His students and mine began to wonder what it was about Vivek that had me waiting on him hand and foot, me being married and him being engaged. The girls in the classes all understood. Vivek was a dark, well dressed Hindu man. Soft spoken and lithely muscular. He had a rich voice and easy laugh. He wore his hair a touch long, and was always tossing his head to take that one stray lock out of his eyes, His eyes were, as the bulk of the female staff and students will attest, quite dreamy. Dark, deep and very expressive. For me, the thing that I obsessed about were his lips. Dark and so very expressive, sensuous. I dreamed of their touch more than I dreamed of sex with any lover I have ever had. He had become the whole of my fantasy life, and the whole of my sexual life. Without laying a finger on me, he had claimed me more completely than I could have dreamed was possible.

You would think that I would be the one being chased. I stand a very toned five foot seven, long red hair, pale skin only lightly freckled, bright blue eyes (behind glasses since I turned 40), and a 48GG-40-46 figure that was as fit as when I was twenty and in the army, even if gravity and three daughters had left the breasts both heavier and droopier than I liked. I had half the male students, and a few female, and most of the male staff looking at me all the time, but I had zero interest in cheating on my husband. Only, as the years past, my husbands sex drive died, and mine only got stronger. Channeling my sexual frustration into exercise only bought me time and worsened the scope of the problem as my body was fully awake and aware of its needs, and I had no channel to release them. Until Vivek. Oh Vivek, you tapped something in me that I cannot control, but because I understand that you can, I feel so safe in exploring it.

My visions of security in our new normal died at the beginning of February. I was serving Vivek some apple pie that I had baked at home (the cafeteria's desert selections were somewhat sad) after our butter chicken, when he broke the news to me.

"Listen Jan," Vivek said, touching my wrist gently, and catching my bright blue eyes in his deep brown pools "I have a wedding to go to in India. I will be gone two weeks. I do not know how much internet connection I will have there, but I will be thinking about you even if we won't have a chance to talk."

I collapsed like a string cut puppet onto the chair. I felt my skin go pale, my eyes fill with tears and a deep howling abyss of fear well up before me. I was a strong independent woman damn it! I was a teacher, a veteran, a mother, I didn't need a man not my husband simply to stay sane! Did I? I began to shake, my body reacting like an addict in withdrawal as the sick feeling built in me that perhaps I did NEED Vivek the way my body needed water, food, even air. Tears began to fall, hot and ugly as I wept silently.

Vivek's hand cupped my chin and turned me to face him. His voice was stern now, commanding. Knifing through my grief and panic like an axe through a sapling, his voice stilled my fear and fired my blood at the same time with an almost magical caress of sound.

"Are you mine, Jan? Are you my little Mleccha slut? Will you be mine even if I am not present to see you? Will you obey me when I cannot see that you do so? Will you please me by doing as I say, simply because it brings me joy that you do so?" Vivek's words washed not over me, but through me. Deep into my body and blood, into my mind, into my soul. There it was, spoken. The thing we had been dancing around for months now. I had been aware of how much I needed to please him, of how much I was starving for what he gave me, almost without effort on his part. We had never done anything irrevocable like expressing it out loud, but we had been both aware of how deep and how natural our path down my submission to him we had walked, without so much as a kiss.

There it was. In the old days, oaths were sacred. Your soul was in your breath, and when you gave your word, your bound yourself body and soul to the words you spoke. Before lawyers, before paper contracts, we understood that offering your word and pledging yourself was a sacred thing, a true thing. Is that what I wanted to do? I was married to my husband of twenty years, had three beautiful daughters and a life with him, yet he could not give me what I needed. I was not being offered marriage, i was not being offered even a partner or a lover. I was offered the chance to pledge myself to be his Mleccha, a plaything for this beautiful Hindu man, this fiance of another woman,. Become his property, even though I would get only those scraps of his affection he deigned to share, and his beautiful Sitta did not require.

On the face of it, it wasn't a choice at all. You did not ask the air for better terms; you could not give up breathing.

I answered before my nerve broke. "Please Vivek, may I be your mleccha slut? I will do whatever you ask. For as long as you will have me, I will be yours however and whenever you wish. I only ask the chance to serve you"

My heart was hammering in my chest, and my tongue was clumsy in a mouth suddenly dry as the deserts of Qatar. I was shaking physically, terrified of rejection, terrified of what I had just said, and oh my yes, more sexually aroused than on my wedding night. Vivek raised his thumb from my chin and brushed my lips with it.

"Good girl," Vivek said it the way you would address a toddler who had done what she was told, or a puppy that sat on command. I groaned in sexual ecstasy at his approval and captured the tip of his thumb in my mouth to suck lightly before he withdrew it, chuckling at my temerity.

"I will expect videos of you every day, I want you to show my how much you miss me." He was smiling and relaxed. Then his voice went hard and cold as old iron. "Jan, this is important. You will NOT CUM, until I am here to watch you. Even if you have sex with your husband, you will not cum until I am there to give you permission and to see it with my own eyes" His eyes burned into me and oh, oh how I caught fire. I would be edging for him every night, tortured in body as I was tortured in spirit for two weeks until his return.

I answered him, eyes downcast. "Yes sir, Yes Vivek. I will be a good girl and edge for you every night. I will edge for you in the shower every morning, I will edge for your cameras on the roof every day, even if it raise, and I will record myself for you every night."

Vivek smiled at me, then his lips gave a little twitch, that quirky grin he always got before delivering a really bad pun or really good news. He drummed the table with his fingers as if thinking something over, cocked his head slightly as if considering me for a long pregnant moment, then finally nodded as if he had made a decision. "Jan, if you are a good girl, you can help me with the planetarium sleepover when i return. We are taking a class to the HR McMillan planetarium in Vancouver, and will need a few female teachers to come along and help supervise. If you are a good girl, you can make the trip and we can spend the nights together. IF YOU CAN BE GOOD" His last words were stern, but his eyebrows wiggled to make it playfully so.

My heart was in my throat at the idea of spending multiple nights with Vivek, and I was willing to agree to anything.

"Anything sir, I will be a good girl. Tell me what I must do!" After a two week desert of not cumming at all, the idea of night after night alone with Vivek was enough to make me promise anything at all! That is when Vivek turned my world upside down, again.

"Sitta has some rules that must be followed when we are together on this sleepover, if you are good" Vivek said simply. I was shocked. Sitta, his beautiful Hindu fiance was a former student of mine, a very bright and confident young lady who now worked investments at the local bank. She knew about us! I was shocked.

Vivek clearly was prepared for my shock, and chuckled over my fear reaction and patted my hand to dismiss my fears.

"Oh Sitta quite enjoys your videos for me, we watch them together. She only has a few rules for the sleepover. You are not permitted to lay a hand on my penis, nor are you permitted to take it in your mouth, pussy or ass. I am to set up my webcam so she can check you are being good because she thinks you are quite the needy little mleccha slut and will not naturally be able to control yourself if left alone with my off leash"

The image of me on a leash for him, or Sitta suddenly blazed across my brain like a religious revelation and quite derailed my train of thought. I almost missed what he said next.

"Sitta is a very modern Hindu woman, and quite progressive. She is at least as intense and possessive as when she was your student, but she always had a bit of a thing for you so she is quite OK with keeping you as a mleccha, as long as you don't forget your place and jeprodize your own marriage or interfere with our pending one. Prove you can be obedient to her limits as you are obedient to my commands, and there is no reason for us to have to end this at all"

That is how we left it. He went to India with Sitta for a family wedding, and I was left to think about everything he said. Sitta knew about me from the beginning. I was not her rival, I was more of a pet she was giving her permission to take in, so long as I could be trained to not make a mess of their and my lives, like a new puppy on the carpet. I should have been insulted. I reached for my outrage, and found instead that image of me, straining to reach Vivek's long thick Hindu cock, and being held back by the leash held in Sitta's henna tattoed and perfectly manicured hand. Edging was not a problem.

I edged for the cameras as I promised, but I ended each session by thanking Sitta for allowing me to serve as mleccha for Vivek, and promised never to do anything to hurt her. Submitting to both of them seemed not only natural, but seemed to go a long way towards allying my guilt. My infidelity to my husband remained, but my desire to please Vivek was so strong that all thoughts of anything but him seemed unreal, or at least, unimportant.

I was super motivated to throw myself into organizing the HR McMillan field trip. By the time Vivek got back, every permission slip, heath form, kit list, confirmation and payment was in. Meals and itineraries were set and double checked and the other teachers were content to coast and let my zeal to do all the work to make this field trip a success carry the rest of them along for the ride. If they only knew how much this meant to me, they would have me up front pulling the bus to save the gas. Vivek was at his best, and so was I. He had come back from his trip to the wedding in India relaxed and full of humour, I was back in full cheerleader mode, and the kids were excited by the trip to the big city and planetarium enough to make the long trip an adventure rather than the ordeal that long busrides in winter time can be. It was loud, cheerful, full of random singing, and had me on low key simmer as Vivek kept looking at me and smiling, which had me after weeks of edging several times a day about ready to jump on his lap in front of the whole class.

The teachers all had their own rooms booked, we were stationed by the stairs with the kids filling the rest of the floor, and I was doing my best to play it cool while we got everyone settled in. I knew the rules that Vivek had agreed to for Sitta, and I was hoping his will power was better than mine, because mine was a frayed thread that couldn't restrain a sleepy kitten. I had brought my usual pj's for these trips, but under were my blue sports bra and panty set. I knew that given the chance, I would be out of the pj's as soon as we could reasonably sure the kids were done having issues for at least five minutes. It was almost ten before we had the kids down to a dull roar in their own rooms, and I was sure no one would notice if I slipped out of mine. I put on my pj's and snuck across the hall to Vivek's room. I booked the rooms, so I put Vivek and I on either side of one stairwell, and the two other teachers on either side of the other; both to frame the kids, and so Vivek and I could have as much privacy as possible.

I knocked on his door, my keycard in my pj pocket. He opened the door, took one look at my Girl Guide pajamas and grinned with that wide white smile that seemed to make his dark eyes sparkle. I did a half turn to either side, raising an arm and thrusting out a hip to show off my curves in the pj's, which are about as sexy as a hijab or 1800's church wear. His smile was all it took for me to no longer feel ridiculous. When he extended his dark Hindu hand, I placed my own white one within it and he lead me into the room. Stopping me before the mirror, the turned me slowly, examining me like a new purchase. I felt my nipples growing almost painfully erect and it was all I could do to keep from whimpering as his long slow, and very obviously enjoyable examination of me continued.

Vivek touched a key on his laptop and then pointed to the two other webcams set up. He smiled at me and gave my hand a squeeze.

"Jan," He said, his voice so full of warmth that I suddenly felt very overdressed in my pj's "why don't you start by thanking Sitta for letting you share even a little of me, and remind her what a good girl you are about following the rules, and doing what you are told"

Oh if Sitta could have felt the rush to my loins when Vivek said that, she never would have let me aloe with her fiance. I would do anything Vivek said, I would do anything or anyone he told me to. Weeks of constant edging at his command had taken what was left of my willpower and transformed it into nothing but a roaring furnace of need restrained not by any will or morality of my own, but solely by HIS will. That soft Hindu voice was my law, my god, my truth, and his body was my only paradise. Only two layers of cloth away, i would have sworn anything to be allowed to lie with him. I made a curtsy straight out of my old ballet training to the laptop and Sitta and promised to be a good girl, and thanking her for letting me be with her strong Hindu fiance.

For the first time he kissed me. It was slow and soft, his hand curved around my neck and drew me to him. My body pressed against him, soft breasts and hard nipples against his firm and broad chest. He began the kiss so softly it was like listening to a single raindrop fall. It was a raindrop that unleashed the monsoon for soon I was pressed against him, my right leg wrapped around his thigh as I cupped my hands around his strong shoulders underneath his T shirt and pulled him into me. I felt myself humping his leg, my hungry womanhood rubbing against his bare thigh and the growing hard Hindu cock in his loose cotton shorts. My tongue pressed into his mouth, dancing around his in urgent need. His response unmade my mind. His strong fingers bound in my hair, locking my head in place. His tongue, tasting slightly of the gin he had been sipping when I came in, thrust into my mouth as I dreamed of him thrusting into my married white pussy. His thick tongue raped my mouth and I sucked on it, caressing it in mute supplication as he made himself free to explore my depths. His hand cupped my breast, kneading it through my pj's and sports bra, the long hard nipple catching his rough hands as he made me understand why I had been given such large white breasts; it was so they could be in Vivek's dark Hindu hands to enjoy. I whimpered into his mouth.

I knew I wasn't allowed to, but the feeling of his hard cock, so much larger and HOTTER than my husbands, pressing against my belly, grinding against my sex, drove all ability to control myself out of my head, and I dropped my hand down between us to grasp his hard cock. I felt my wedding ring catch at his shorts fabric as I closed my hand on his cock and I just about passed out. In my hand was the great mystery that I was to be denied, the treasure of India I could worship but not hold. I shuddered as I felt the slight touch of his cock blast through my senses like a shot of ice cold vodka after a long hot and terrible day of work.

Vivek's hand in my long red hair pulled me back, revealing my hand wrapped around his cock.

"Jan, Jan, Jan." Vivek laughed sadly. "My poor desperate mleccha slut, you just can't restrain yourself this close to a hard Hindu cock can you?" He asked me, laughing, but his eyes were hard and demanding answer.

"No sir." I told him. "I am sorry, but I can't restrain myself, I can't control my need when you are this close!" I am sorry Vivek, I am sorry Sitta!" I turned to beg my former student's forgiveness for touching her fiancee's cock. I had failed them both, and embarrassed myself.

Vivek's smile became hungry, and he said something that touched all the dark fantasies about him that had been born during my enforced abstinence. His eyes became predatory, and I felt like a little white rabbit pinned in the gaze of the king cobra.

"If you cannot restrain yourself, I will have to restrain you. If you cannot discipline yourself, I will have to discipline you!" Vivek said sternly, and I hoped Sitta would not see how wet my panties were becoming as Vivek let the mantle of master slip as naturally over his Hindu shoulders as I felt the invisible collar of slave choke any words of protest off in my throat unspoken. I nodded, blushing furiously, but trembling in the anticipation I never experienced on my wedding night.

Vivek TORE my pj top off, the buttons flying everywhere. A display of raw power so at odds with his normal soft spoken appearance that I could feel my womb awakening to the truth of a potency it desired but had never known so close to it. He looked at my blue sports bra and commanded me.