Her brows furrowed as that dream melted away and cold metal of the floor her upper body was pressed too reminded her of her situation. Her eyes snappe... open and she struggled more urgently with a distressed whimper, she hadn’t been dreaming. Her asshole was still twitching from being abused and she could feel the heat of a complete stranger’s load sitting heavy in her bowels. The source of her pleasure as she slept was a vibrator incessantly humming between her folds. She yanked and. She never appeared in front of him without her ghungat — the veil covering her face. She never raised her face, never looked him in the eye and never found herself in any room alone with him. And so life returned to its routines. Thakur in particular enjoyed the routine of the weekly oil bath. It was an unwritten rule that only the women on the domestic staff would attend to him in the bath. It allowed him a closer look at the various women that worked in different parts of the Thakur. More

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