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Subject: Story Repost: The Sri Lankan Refugee (femdom, inter, humil)
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Pushpa stood in front of the wardrobe mirror looking at her naked body and
sighed sadly. She was in her mid-forties now and her once slim body was
now growing plump, a fact which was accentuated by her short height. Her
breasts were large and heavy, her stomach round and her thighs grew
thicker every year just as her ass grew larger and rounder. Her limbs too
betrayed her increasing weight. Even her long beautiful black hair was now
tinged with grey and her pretty face was growing rounder.

Pushpa sighed again. She felt so old, so ugly, so unwanted, the fact
reinforced every time she stepped out of the squalid bedsit that was now
her home and heard the cutting remarks from British people about her dark
complexion. Even her fellow South Asians looked down on her dark Tamil
skin.

Tears ran down Pushpa's face. She felt sure she was destined to remain
alone and uncared for in this cruel foreign land. Sure she would never
again taste the cock she loved so much even though she hated the way men
used her and treated her a servant rather than an equal. Pushpa's anger
flared again. Yes, she hated men except for the pleasure they could give
her. She especially hated white men, white men like those who sneered at
her in the street, like those who had abused her when she had been a young
servant girl in an expatriate household back in Sri Lanka. She had often
dreamed, as she had told Neela the young Indian lawyer who had
successfully arranged her acceptance as a refugee from the war, of being a
rich lady with servants attending her every whim. Those servants would all
be white men, men she would humiliate and debase, whom she would teach to
respect her and other South Asians, whom she would use as toys for her
pleasure.

Pushpa was becoming quite wet as she fantasised, her hand masturbating her
pussy but she soon swung back to reality. This dirty little bedsit was her
 future now. She would live and die alone here, her destiny unfulfilled.
There was a knock at the door. Hastily Pushpa dressed in shorts and
T-shirt and opened the door. It was Neela, slim, attractive, as usual
smartly dressed in a dark business suit.

"I have been thinking a lot about that fantasy you described to me." said
Neela after she had seated herself. "Would you really like to have a white
man for your personal slave?"

Pushpa blushed. "There is no use talking about the impossible I am too old
and ugly for such thoughts."

Neela laughed. "My dear you are still very beautiful, believe me.. Anyway,
looks are unimportant. What is really important is that you truly desire
to own a white man."

"If only I could." mused Pushpa.

"But you can." said Neela "Come with me now and I will give you everything
you dreamed of. Of course if you would rather wait here..."

Pushpa, in a sudden moment of decision, leaped to her feet. She did not
take time to change but followed Neela out to her car.

Neela did not speak during the journey to the club, preferring to keep
everything a surprise. They parked outside and she led a bewildered Pushpa
inside.

Pushpa thought she had entered a dream world as she followed Neela into
the dimly lit club. The club was full of scantily clad men and women of
all colours but it was clear that the women were in charge. Many were
dressed in leather costumes but a significant number were dressed
conventionally like Neela. The men, however, were universally clad in
simple cock pouches and leather collars attached to slender chains which
were held by the women. The male waiters wore a similar costume.

The men were engaged in a number of activities while the women smoked and
drank and chatted to each other, ignoring the men for the most part.
Pushpa saw men licking the shoes of women, massaging their feet, sucking
their toes, licking their legs, licking up drinks which were kindly spilt
on the floor for them by their Mistresses. She saw two women standing
together while men on their knees licked both their asses, she saw women
using men as chairs or footstools, she even saw men lapping at their
Mistresses pussies in the darker corners of the room.

Pushpa felt hotter than she had ever felt before. She had never dreamed
men might really submit to women like this. What particularly thrilled her
was seeing several white men on their knees before Asian and Black women
and seeing young men bent low before women who were both older and larger
than her. Suddenly she felt hope renew inside her. Perhaps Neela really
would make her dream come true.

She followed her beautiful young companion to the rear of the club where a
 white man was tethered to the bar.

Neela sat down on a bar stool near the man and motioned Pushpa to join
her. Pushpa sat down beside the man, his white, near naked body now almost
touching her. As soon as she sat the man knelt down head lowered, as if he
felt it would be disrespectful to look at her. Pushpa liked this sign of
submissiveness which she had often had to adopt in her homeland.

"This piece of white trash," said Neela, not even glancing at the man "is
well known for his desire to serve South Asian women. According to his
previous owner who has now grown bored with him he is 34 yrs old, an
executive with a comfortable home. He is well trained in all domestic
service, cleaning, cooking, washing, gardening and is able to serve at
functions for your friends. Sexually he has no desire but to please his
Mistress. He will perform any act no matter how degrading but is
particularly suitable for ass, foot and breast worship. He is trained to
obey any command instantly and will answer to any name you give him. He
will not speak or think without permission."

She paused and noticed Pushpa's intense, lustful stare at the white slave
kneeling beside her. She smiled.

"If you accept you will be officially employed as his live-in housekeeper.
This is necessary because of your immigration status. In reality you will
be the Mistress of the house and he will be your houseboy to be treated as
you see fit. His earnings will be entirely at your disposal. even if you
decide to take a lover he will remain your slave to be used and abused as
you desire, a toy for your pleasure. If you wish you may introduce him as
such to your friends."

She turned to Pushpa. "Well, is this what you want."

Pushpa smiled. "Look up dog." she commanded

He looked up into her face, a face that seemed to him beautiful beyond
compare.

"Describe my body slave." she ordered

"It is the body of a Goddess." replied the slave with sincerity, as his
eyes drank in her large, tantalising breasts clearly outlined under her
T-shirt.

"My ass is not too big?" inquired Pushpa, standing it and presenting it to
 his face.

It is wondrous." replied the slave.

Pushpa slowly slid down her shorts to expose her ass cheeks.

"Kiss it." she snapped.

The minute she felt his lips and his tongue on her ass, felt his fervent
kisses, she knew the slave was hers and she almost came with excitement,
her imagination racing with ideas on how she would use him. She saw a
woman cry angrily at a slave who had spilt her drink and strike him with a
short whip. She looked inquiringly at Neela who smiled and nodded.

"Yes my dear Pushpa. If you have to punish him you are free to do so. I am
sure you will always find some fault with his work."

Pushpa felt happy, very happy. Her dream had come true. Less than an
hour ago she had been alone and living in a dirty bedsit. Now she owned a
man, a white man, a younger man who would be her houseslave and her sex
slave. A man she could treat as so many men had treated he, a man she
could punish and vent her frustrations on as she desired, a man who saw in
her body the body of a Goddess, a man who would give her his home and his
wealth in order that he might be allowed to worship her. Yes, she was very
happy.

"I will take the dog." she smiled.

She moved into my home the same evening.

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