Category: BDSM Stories

Indian Maid Spanks Me Ch. 05

by spankedboy©

Chapter 5 -- My Fifth Punishment From The Indian Maid

My maids make me their personal maid and chore slave -- Tarek.

I would like to thank Ms. AT Khan for reviewing the story and JonB1969 for editing it. - Tarek

"Tell me the truth, baba!" Rashida, my maid, held my left ear firmly in her right hand, giving it a painful twist. "Did you, or did you not, switch off the oven as I had ordered?"

"Bua, bua ... ow!" I yelped as she twisted my ear again, and my head swiveled at her pull. "I am sorry, I ..."

Rashida let go of my ear, and raised her right hand. I grimaced, for I knew what was coming.


"One!" I counted dutifully. "I am sorry, bua. I really am! Please punish me again."

Here was I, the twenty year old son of one of the most powerful businessman in Kolkata, and not only was I taking orders from my older, buxom, chubby and now very angry maid servant Rashida, but she was now slapping my cheeks and punishing me for failing to carry out her orders. And for some frightening reason, I kept feeling as if I was forgetting something else as well.


"Two! I am sorry, bua." I mumbled, as my face flushed a bright red, partly from my servant's slaps, partly from shame as she was slapping me in front of our other servant. "I am really very sorry."


"I don't like liars," Rashida announced, her face stoic. "I gave you ONE simple task. Turn off the oven in 8 minutes. If you forgot to do that, at least be a man and admit it. I would have slapped you once or twice and that would be it. But then you lied to me! Did you think we wouldn't find out?"


"Four! Bua," I tried to plead my case, as always using the respectful term 'bua' to address my maid. "I should not have lied. Please forgive me."


"You have never lied to me like this before, baba," Rashida admonished me in between her slaps.

"Yes, bua." I tried to have a very contrite look, but it wasn't going well. And then there was the nagging feeling that I was forgetting another order -- something the maids haven't figured out yet, but would soon will -- and for the life of me I could not remember what that order was!


"Baba, whenever I had asked you if you had done something wrong, you had always admitted it and taken your punishment. This is unacceptable."

"Yes, bua."


Nearby, our other maid Rubina stood by, silently watching my humiliation, with a sly grin on her face, as Rashida continued to slap me alternately on each cheek. Rubina had reason to be smug, of course. Whereas Rashida was much older (she practically raised me), Rubina was my age. In fact, she was younger than me by some months. A few years ago, she was just a mere maid from a poor Bengali family, happy at the chance for employment at a rich, Urdu-speaking, business family's house where the pay was great. She was a shy and demure girl who would tremble at my orders.

And now she wouldn't let go of a chance to strip me naked, put me across her lap and give me a beating with her slippers. Oh, how the chappals have turned! The fact that she was younger than me, and yet controlled me with full authority to punish me as she liked, no doubt added to her enjoyment at my chastisements.

Rashida, being the older maid, and employed with us for a long time, had a more mature, authoritative demeanor; maintaining a sense of gravitas around her, whereas Rubina was more spunky and spontaneous.


"I am so sorry, bua. I will never lie to you again, I promise! Please forgive me, bua!"


The slaps continued. Rashida was clearly angry that I had lied to her -- and this was true, I had never lied to her before like this -- and Rubina was observing me with a cruel grin on her face. Appearance wise, the two maids couldn't be more dissimilar. Rashida was heavier; she had a big chest (her blouses were always one size too small and struggled to contain her overflowing breasts), and she had a big bum as well. Once I had to accompany her to the market, and she took more than half the space on the two-seater rickshaw, and I had to squeeze into the remaining space. Rubina, on the other hand, was scrawny, thin, with a beautiful face that gave me a hard on whenever she wasn't spanking me. Of her thin stature, the only redeeming feature were her butt cheeks, which were amply proportioned.


"Twenty Two!" Amidst my pain, I maintained the count, knowing that missing a slap or two would result in further punishment. And along with the count, came my abject apology. "I am very sorry, bua. I should not have lied about switching it-"


"What were you doing, baba?" Rashida asked me.


"It was a very simple task, baba."

"Yes, bua."


"Wait 8 minutes, baba, and turn the oven off. That's all I said."

"Yes, bua."


"Now, baba, we have to mix the dough and start all over again."

"I am so sorry, bua."


"That's two hours wasted."

"Yes, bua. It's all my fault." I wailed. "Please punish me more."


"I will, baba."


"Now tell me, baba, exactly why-"


"-would you forget-"


"-to turn the oven off, baba?"


Finally, Rubina volunteered the answer.

"Rashida apa, I know why baba forgot. He was too busy ogling Shabina apa." Rubina used the respectful term 'apa' (older sister) when addressing an older woman, or when talking about an older woman.


You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Rashida's steely eyes bore into mine, and I kept my eyes cast down in shame and fear. My silence validated Rubina's answer. For a second, I forgot my punishments, or the fact that I was forgetting another of Rashida's orders that I couldn't recall, or the count of how many slaps I had received so far from my shapely maid. All I could now think of was that Rashida was now going to be very, very, very angry. Not only had I failed to do what she asked, AND lied about it, but I was guilty of ogling another woman -- another one of the help.

Shabina was our local vegetable lady. My mom was having a huge party that evening (which is why my parents were out this morning, getting some final shopping done, leaving the mundane kitchen tasks to the help), and she had ordered some vegetables. Shabina was the lady who would walk with her cart and deliver fresh vegetables to each house in our locality every day. This morning, as I was watching the oven, she had come into the kitchen with her merchandise. Since I was already in the kitchen, I stood there to supervise her -- and when she bent over to place the items into the refrigerator, presenting her ample, fleshy buttocks, I was busy ogling her. If you hadn't noticed already, I have a thing for women with big behinds. And this has often gotten my behind into a lot of trouble.

Shabina was a firm old lady, but probably no older than forty. For a mature lady, she had a pretty face, with cheeks begging to be squeezed, while her lips were pouty and thick. She was of average height and built, but boy did she have a plump behind! It was tough to say where her waist ended and her hips began. Like many of these working poor ladies, she wore a thin sari, without enough material to completely wrap around her body, leaving her ample fleshy waist and navel completely exposed. I also tried to peer down her blouse as she moved her wares, and I could see Shabina did not wear a bra as well.

With my dad's rising political star, and my mom's charitable work, and me being in prime fitness and shape, and the vice-captain of our university cricket team, I could have had any girl in the city. And here I was, being miserably punished by my maid servants for failing a task because I was too busy ogling the poor vegetable lady.

"Pull down his pajamas," Rashida ordered, and Rubina was of course too happy to comply. In a trice, my pajamas were at my ankles. Following Rashida's orders, I of course had nothing underneath. I wore no underwear, ever, because, in Rashida's words, "I want you to be spankable and ready to be punished wherever you are and whenever I want." So there I was, standing in the kitchen in just my t-shirt, my bare bum exposed to my maids -- one of whom had a stoic look on her face, and the other was suppressing giggles at my discomfort.

Rashida then stripped off my t-shirt, so I was completely in the nude, and led me painfully by the ear to an old wooden chair that was propped against the kitchen wall.

"Climb up on the chair, baba, facing the wall, and kneel on the chair," Rashida ordered.

"Yes, bua."

I did as she asked, facing the wall, my knees on the chair, my hands spread apart and braced against the wall. I knew that if I moved or squirmed, I risked falling out of that rickety chair.

"Stay here in this position until I decide your punishment, baba."

"Yes, bua."

Rashida pressed the back of my head firmly until my cheeks were flat against the wall. Then she pressed my buttocks hard so my dick was now grinding against the back of the chair.

"Hold this position, baba."

"Yes, bua."

Even though she was using the affectionate term 'baba' for me, I knew that soon she would be paddling my ass and be anything but affectionate. All those slaps, I thought wryly, were just a precursor. Vaguely, I tried to recall if there was some other instruction of hers I was forgetting.

Rashida gave her orders, starting to get busy. "Rubina!"

"Yes, apa?"

"Start preparing the dough. This cake isn't going to make itself."

"Yes, apa."

Behind Rubina's compliant reply, I could detect a hint of anger. I knew that Rashida would delegate those tasks to her, since she, Rashida, was, after all, the older maid and therefore the head of the domestic help, but I also knew Rubina would punish me later for this additional work.

For some time, I just remained in my position. The sounds of the maids being busy in the kitchen filled the air. Rashida chopped some vegetables, Rubina started to work on the cake and they were busy with their tasks. A couple of sly mocking comments at the naked man amidst them would be thrown around occasionally, followed by laughter. I was a source of amusement for my maid servants. Not only was I in the nude, kneeling in humiliation, and humbly awaiting my punishment, but I was fit to be ignored until they had completed their mundane chores. My clothes lay in a heap on the kitchen floor.

My respite was broken by the swooshing sound of a cane. Rashida had gone to her room, chosen a cane, and was testing it against the palm of her big hand as she re-entered the kitchen. Ever since the women from my domestic help have started to punish me, Rashida has built up a good collection of implements in her room to spank me with. My chubby maid now walked until she was just behind me, and poked my right ass cheek with the tip of the cane.

"Ah .... Owwwww!" I could not help but howl, making Rubina laugh out loud.

"You will get forty strokes on your bum with the cane." Rashida announced. "Baba, I will do twenty, and Rubina will then cane you twenty times. Is that understood?"

"Yes, bua." What else could I say? "I am yours to be punished, bua."

"As usual, you will count, thank me, apologize and ask for another one every time." Rashida instructed. "But you should know this by now, shouldn't you?"

"Yes, bua."


Rashida struck me hard and fast. She would alternate on each cheek, sometimes striking the fleshy part of my bum, sometimes just below, on my legs, and sometimes right in the middle of the crack of my ass, leaving a stinging blow every time. After each stroke, I would count, thank her, apologize to her humbly, and beg for her forgiveness. And then I would submissively ask her to punish me one more time. Barely would I be finished before she would hit me again.

"T-t-twenty!" I cried aloud, amidst my tears. "T-t-thank you bua. Please, please do f-f-forgive my lie, I am so sorry. Please hit me again!"

"It's now Rubina's turn to cane you," Rashida told me. "Repeat your apology to her."

"Yes, bua. Choto bua," I turned my head and now addressed Rubina, using the reverent term 'bua' and adding 'choto' to it, which meant "younger". "Please do forgive me lying, choto bua, and please punish me for it."

Rubina impatiently tapped the cane against my bum.

"You idiot, let's get this over with." She told me to face the wall again. "I have so much more to do now, baba, thanks to your incompetence, you nincompoop!"

"Yes, choto bua. I am so sorry, choto bua. Please punish me, choto bua."

I braced myself for what I knew would be a hard punishment. When Rashida punished me, she was doing it because I deserved it. I had done something wrong, and needed to be corrected for it. Rashida was the loving matronly lady and I the errant schoolboy. She punished me strictly on a disciplinary basis, and in her view, she was doing it for my own good.

Rubina, on the other hand, really enjoyed physically beating me. She just needed an excuse to put me over her knees or pull down my pants and spank me. It put me, the son of owner of the house she worked in, and her employer, and someone older than her, in a humiliating position under her authority, and she loved it. Rubina was a true sadist, and her spankings were often tough and ruthless. And now she had a cane in her hand.


The cane came down hard on my now very red bum.

"Twenty one!" I counted. "Thank you for-"

"You should have started counted from 'ONE' again." Rubina harrumphed. "This stroke will not count."

"Oh, choto bua, I thought I-"


"Are you ..."


"... questioning my ..."


"... authority?"

"No, choto bua. Absolutely not, choto bua. My mistake, choto bua. Please forgive me, choto bua. I will start from 'one' again. I do apologize, choto bua. Please punish me, choto bua."

If you haven't realized it by now, I was terrified of my choto bua's punishments.

"Five extra strokes for your insolence!" Rubina decided. "And all those strokes will not count. Start counting again, baba."

"Yes, choto bua. I am sorry, choto bua."

No doubt, had I started the count from one, Rubina would have said I should have continued from twenty one. This was just an excuse to punish me more. Desperately I looked at Rashida for help, but she pointedly ignored me. Clearly, she approved of the younger maid's actions.

Rubina caned me hard and fast. Her ferocious strikes left me gasping for breath amidst my tears and screams, and no doubt my behind was now a bright shade of tomato red. I missed the count a few times, and every time Rubina added five penalty strokes. Hell hath no fury like a maid servant with a cane in her hand crossed. By the time Rubina was done, I was a blubbering mess.

"Stand down from the chair and come here!" Rashida ordered. Barely able to walk now, I stood facing her. More than anything, I fervently wanted to rub my sore buttom, but I knew that would prolong my punishment. As I stood there, Rashida cupped my balls in her right hand.

"Next time, you lie to me ..." Rashida tightened her squeeze on my testicles, and I sharply drew in my breath. "Your balls will be on the line. Do you understand me, baba?"

"Y-y-yes, bua. I am very sorry, bua. I will never lie to you again." I was really scared they would beat me on my balls. So far, my testicles had been left alone.

The maids told me to go to a corner, face the wall and bend over. I remained in that position, naked, butt up in the air, while they went about their tasks. The cold air blowing through the kitchen shot a thousand volts through my body every time there was a breeze across my behind, and I was ardently hoping that was the end of my punishment. Finally, Rashida walked over and examined my derriere -- and the result of their handiwork. She squeezed and pinched my butt cheeks, and gently spread it apart to see my asshole, giving me more jolting pain. When she was satisfied, Rashida told me to kiss her feet, pick up my clothes, and get out.

The party that night was a success. I of course, could not sit down (for obvious reasons!) and whenever someone brushed against me, I could feel the pain, and had to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.

* * *

Later that night, as I lay in the bed, I again tried to think of what was that other instruction I was forgetting. After trying hard in vain to recall, I then reflected on the caning I had received.

My maids have been punishing me for two years now. It all started when I was eighteen, and Rashida had caught me masturbating, and rather than have her report me to my parents, I decided to accept her punishment. And that was how I found myself to be in the situation I was in now. Pretty soon, Rashida was spanking me on a regular basis. Unknown to me then, but immediately recognized by Rashida when she spanked me for the very first time, I had a submissive streak in me, and I found the idea -- of placing myself at the mercy of large, dominating woman who would beat me as she wished -- highly erotic. Slowly and surely, Rashida increased the range and severity of my punishments, and then, sometime later, she initiated Rubina into the whole affair. Gradually, and unknown to my parents, the maids compounded their domination over me to such an extent that I would now obey anything they said, any time.

The maids had time scheduled every week for what Rashida called my "maintenance spanking". Even if I had done nothing wrong, and that was never the case, I was to submit to them and present my bare bum for a hiding. It emphasized the fact that they ruled me, and my body, and I was their deferential serf, destined to obey their slightest wish.

Every Monday and Thursday, sharply at 10.30 pm, long after my parents had retired for the night (they went to bed every night at 9pm), I would report to my mistress Rashida's room, in the servants' quarters. Monday and Thursday were marked as my 'punishment' nights.

Many a times, Rubina would go over the line when disciplining me. Once, while I was kissing her feet, she kicked out. Another time, while caning me as I stood silently bearing her hidings, she hit the lower part of my legs, below the knee. Yet another time, when I was being slapped, Rubina hit the same cheek, again and again, instead of alternating on each side of my face.

During these occasions, more often than not, Rashida would rein her in, correct her, and soothe me. Today, in the kitchen, she had made no such move. Clearly, my lying had offended Rashida so terribly that she felt Rubina could do what she wanted to me. I resolved never to lie to Rashida again. The punishment for whatever I would do wrong was clearly less than being punished for lying, especially if Rashida let Rubina loose on me.

Suddenly, the door to my room opened.

I, of course, never locked my door. Rashida had strict instructions for me that the door to my room should always be open, so the maids were free to walk in on me any time they wanted. As she said, "a dog doesn't lock its kennel". I would be changing my clothes, or studying, or sleeping, it didn't matter. And of course, a few times they had walked in while I was masturbating to pornography. Rubina seemed to have a particular knack of knowing when I was doing the deed, and that meant I would soon be over her knees. At least with Rashida, if she was punishing me for masturbating, she would have mercy on me at the end of my spanking, and put a condom on my penis and stroke me until I came.

Category: BDSM Stories