It’s the year 2184, Date 3rd October.
My first attempt to manipulate my wife had proved to be a disaster. She had become so aroused by my sexy overtures that she had banged me twice that night and it was a strap on second time. My body had been battered, my breasts had become so tender due to her bites and nails that I was not able to wear a bra next morning. My bums had been pinched so mercilessly that I was not able to sit comfortably. It was only the second time since our marriage that she had used a strap on and my ass was virtually on fire next day. I vowed that I shall never wear revealing clothes for her unless ofcourse she demanded it.
G had a 48 hours call day at her hospital today and she left early. I placed my forehead at her feet as she was leaving to ask for her blessings. She gave me a hand to getup, kissed me on the cheek, said sorry for last night rough handling and was gone in a flash. I kept waving my hand till her car was lost from the view. I folded my hands and said a silent prayer for her wellbeing and closed the door.
Since G was not coming back tonight, I decided to skip the sweeping of floor. I tookoff my saree and entered the bathroom. There I slowly removed all my clothes and started rubbing olive oil on my body. I remembered the home science teacher repeatedly stressing the use of olive oil for giving relief from pain on bruises and cuts and its healing power on the skin to avoid permanent marks. It was only after my marriage that I had really understood as to what he really meant by this.
Shekhar ji again called at noon to enquire if I had decided about the job. I told him that I had not been able to ask my wife and without her permission, it was unthinkable for me to even set foot outside my home. I told him that if my wife allowed me, I shall call him myself.
I wore an old T shirt of G and a Salwar as there was no one to watch me and decided to catchup on my sleep. I had already stopped taking breakfast as I was very fearful of gaining weight. I took a cup of green tea and laid down on our bed.
It was the first time since our marriage that I was not sleeping alongside G and I had thought that I was going to enjoy it. After all, there was no one to disturb my sleep by pushing her cold hand inside my bra. However, I was not able to sleep at all. After lying down for an hour, I decided to call G on phone and complained to her that I was having pain in my breasts and bums and requested her to send some medicines. She naughtily replied that whenever there is pain in her legs, I am there to press the
same and she will just return the favour. I blushed with shame and hung up.
Those two days, when G was not at home, I was virtually in despair. Nothing seemed right and I was irritable all the time. Both my elder brothers called me on phone and when I told them about my feelings, they teased me that I had become so much addicted to being banged by my wife that I was missing it. I just hoped that G was missing me too.
When G returned from hospital on 5th morning, she was dead tired. I was waiting for her in a yellow saree and came out as soon as her car entered the society gate. As I placed my forehead at her feet in full view of everyone in our society, she tiredly patted me on the head and went inside. I went to the kitchen to get coffee and snacks for her. As I returned, she had collapsed on the sofa and placed her feet on the stool. I gave her coffee and sat down on the floor near her.
I realised that she was having pain in her legs and slowly tookoff her shoes and socks. I cradled her right foot in my hands started massaging it. “Are you sure that you want to do it. My feet are stinking with sweat.” G asked me. I pretended not to have listened and continued my massage. I was using my knuckles to work on a particularly stubborn knot when G moaned and said “O my Goddess, why are you so good at this?” I said nothing but thanked my mother from my heart.
In 2184, home science was a compulsory subject for every boy from class 6th upwards and “how to serve your wife and press her legs” was a separate chapter in class 10th. In our home science diploma, all the boys were taught the various positions in which a househusband was supposed to press the legs of his wife. In spite of all these lessons, my mother had insisted that all her sons should learn this art from a professional massager since it was an essential skill for a man to have.
Today all those lessons were in my mind but I did something that I had never learnt anywhere. I kissed her great toe as she was relaxing with pleasure. “Hey, what are you doing?” she jerked. I immediately removed my lips and started massaging her calf. “No no, please go on. I like it.” She said. I slowly took her little toe in my mouth and let my tongue go to work on it. She was squirming with pleasure now but I held her foot and continued. I let go her toe and put my tongue between the space of great and second toe. She suddenly yelped with delight and pulled me on the sofa besides her. Within a few minutes, all my clothes were lying on the floor and my wife was lying on top of myself. The session had started but she was quiet gentle this time and kept me on the edge by pinching on the arms and slaps on my face only. She knew that my breasts must have still been quiet tender and did not pinch and bite them. Even when she pressed them at the time of her climax, it was clear to me that she was not using her full force. It was a wonderful feeling to know that my wife cares for me so much.
Afterwards, as we were still nude and relaxing, with my head resting on her chest, she suddenly said, “Monu darling, do you know that you could earn millions if you become a professional massager. You were outstanding today.” I knew that this was in a lighter vein but I got my opening. I said, “I can’t massage anyone with so much of love and devotion, my mistress. However, I can earn a few thousands by teaching sewing and knitting to young boys, if you permit me.” G became a little thoughtful as she lit a cigarette. “We don’t need money my love. I earn enough.” Said she. “I don’t want my husband to serve anyone other than myself. Its shameful for a female to allow her husband to work for someone else.”
I don’t know that what was it which burst inside me and I broke into tears. As G tried to console me, I kept sobbing and told her everything about the day when I could not pay 50 rupees to the boy who was selling green bangles on Teej festival. She listened to me sympathetically and it was clear that she was reaching a decision while she patted me on my bare back. “I am sorry darling” she said. “All said and done, I can’t alter my female ego and allow you to have a job but I have decided something for you. Shekhar jijaji had offered you ten thousand rupees for that job and today onwards, you shall get an allowance of same amount from me. No one is going to ask any question from you about what you do with this money.” I squealed with delight and melted in her arms. “However, this new job comes to you with certain restrictions and discipline. You shall have to massage me daily on my return from hospital” she smiled at me. “With pleasure my mistress” I replied. “And the job uniform shall be my favourite dress, that is the short red skirt and white sleeveless blouse” she completed her sentence.
My mouth gaped open as all colour drained from my face.