Lassoed by Truth
I suppose I should start at the beginning. Of course, I didn’t know it what was beginning at all. You see, I am not the sort of person you expect to be making these sorts of movies. Not at all. But then again, it wasn’t my choice that I ended up here. I guess you could say it was my nature that lead me here, and that my own education is now under way. This is ironic, because I am a teacher, their teacher. The boys and girls who instruct me now, the ones who are making these movies. I am told that they will be able to afford college with no problem at all with the revenue of the movies they are making, so I am proud as their teacher that I am helping them achieve the higher education these bright young immigrants deserve. I never thought I would be helping them in this way. I am told the films are only being circulated for Hindi language groups right now, but if a copy of it ever got to the school, my career would be over. Why you ask. Ah.
I am Mrs Diana Rigg, History and Geography teacher at St Mary’s Preparatory School, and when Mr Lau retired, I took over as the sponsor of the Audio Visual club. It was a club which had been kept alive by Aaloka Bakshi, a bright eyed Hindu girl with the sort of drive that I found equal parts endearing and frightening. She was a young woman who was going places. She took a club that had been shut down from lack of resources and use and soon it had four Hindu boys, Vihaan, Arjun, Sai and Arnav (call my Navi). They began fundraising and working with, of all groups, some of the cheerleaders. Soon all of them were seen looking doe eyed at the intense Hindu AV club members about one project or another.
I had a separate social media file for my Cosplay, because as a teacher, there are strict rules about social media. If you are a man, you can get away with anything, but if you are a woman, no pictures that wouldn’t pass an 1800 puritan meeting were permitted. I had been a competitive basketball player in college, standing just over six feet, and still as active in the gym as when I was younger, I had rebounded from child birth by rediscovering the gym and was justifiably proud of a body that was as toned as in University. The boobs were better. Child number two had left my hair curly and my boobs no longer the DD that I knew and loved, but a rather more generous G. I was not “cut” or defined as I was in university, but a more generous set of curves that resisted diet, and didn’t seem to care how toned or fit I got, the padding stayed. My husband was happy, but I wasn’t.
It was Cosplay that got me back into loving my body. I used to love cosplay, and when my girls got into dance I got back into Cosplay because….well I was making costumes for their dance troupe, why not for myself. I treated myself to going to the conventions again, the meetings, the forums, and yes, the shows. I cosplayed Wonder Woman. I was very proud of my Cosplay, as when you are a bit of an Amazon, women’s fashion doesn’t exactly make you feel feminine. Shoe shopping makes you aware of the fact that women are not supposed to be as tall as you, and dress shopping lets you know that your shoulders are too broad and your boobs too big. The long legs and muscular ass make it impossible to be “proper” as skirts are short, tight, and pants cling and display whether you want to or not. It is also super expensive, as nothing is designed for you, everything must be altered or fit badly.
Cosplaying Wonder Woman made me feel strong, sexy, and COMFORTABLE with my new body. I shouldn’t have posted the pictures, and truthfully I didn’t. I did pose for many pictures at Victoria Comicon and Vancouver Fan Expo. Many of those who were in the Cosplay track knew me through my Cosplay profile and tagged me or posted my pictures to that timeline. I didn’t think anything of it, it was something I did far from home, under a different name. I was wrong. I was out of touch with modern technology, naive and quite repressed sexually, unprepared for Aaloka Bakshi and the confrontation to come.
My world was scheduled to unravel on October 7, 2019. It began innocently enough, with a request from Aaloka Bakshi for a meeting about an AV club project they needed my help with.
“Mrs Rigg” Aaloka Bakshi asked, sweeping her long raven hair behind her ear, highlighting the golden stud in her nose, and ring in her ear. “We are making a film for the Parvati Hindu Language channel, the one that you helped us form. I know we have been making films since school began, four so far have raised about twelve thousand dollars for our educational funds, but the latest one we signed a contract for requires something else, something we can’t get from the students here. It is something bigger than we have done before, a superhero movie and we need a very particular hero, or heroine”
Aaloka Bakshi was staring at me, her tawny liquid eyes should have been soft and warm as a doe, but their depths were whirlpools of dark intensity that made me feel naked and helpless. She was so driven, so focused, so passionate I envied her. I looked down at her, from almost a foot of height difference (even flats left me towering) and asked.
“How can I help, I am your sponsor so feel I should do what I can. Did you need help with costuming, because I do have some skill there?”
Aaloka Bakshi rolled her eyes and slid her Ipad across my desk to me. On it were pictures of my Cosplay. The ones the clever fellows at the conventions loved to circulate, the ones showing the most skin or cleavage, the ones where I looked, honestly, better than when I was in college. She flipped through them, flicking across the screen to change them.
I opened my mouth to object. She rolled her eyes again, clearly tired with the protests and not willing to wait to hear them before dismissing them.
“Yes yes, no one at school can know about this, its your job, what would people think? Hello! Hindu language production, the entire AV club knows about this, I mean facial recognition software is such old hat you should know every Hindu and Mandarin speaker in this school already has an extensive album of you. You’ve got a body like Parvati, yet the look like some sort of death pale vision of Kali in this Wonder Woman. We need a Wonder Woman, who do you think can play it? Me?” Aaloka Bakshi said, gesturing at all five foot three of her, and stomped her little gold sandaled foot in impatience.
“No one who isn’t a Hindi speaker is going to see it, at least until we get our Mandarin translation working, do you really think anyone in this white-bread Bible thumping down is bothering to learn any little brown people languages?” Aaloka stated coldly. I blushed and looked down in embarrassment. One of the reasons I undertook the AV club patronage was the rather open racism of the school administration and board towards the minorities of Asian, Indian and Native ancestry.
I agreed, and when she smiled at me, I felt the blush right down to my chest. Her eyes softened and those pouting lips curved in a smile of approval that for some reason I reacted to like a sip of really good scotch or brandy.
The script was fairly cheesy. What I was given was the outline. There were white slavers kidnapping cheerleaders, and Wonder Woman was to stop them.
They had borrowed the starter pistol from Mr Tan, the track coach. I was to pose reflecting them from my steel vambraces like the comics or movies. They assured me they could put in the flash of deflecting bullets in after production.
I was to bind the two thugs, then the super villain would come and make their speech. I was to be given an ear bug, which would provide me a real time translation of the spoken Hindi. I would reply in English, and later be taught how to say the Hindi for my lines to make sure my own voice was constant throughout. Two of the cheerleaders would be the victims, Courtney and Anna, twin blondes more renowned in the school for their immense beauty and sense of entitlement than cooperative nature as their father was VP of a local investment firm, and their mother was Crown Attorney for the region.
I took my time and did my makeup as I did for the convention. Makeup for film or stage is different from conventional makeup, due to the intensity of the light that is on you. Darker and bolder makeup was required, especially when you are as pale as I am. I was excited, this was not quite forbidden, but a grey area. Aaloka Bakshi assuring me that all the Indian and Chinese students already circulated pictures of me in Cosplay had made me feel an odd sort of forbidden excitement. I mean, all those smiling dark eyes were not seeing me in proper school clothing, but in the bold and revealing Wonder Woman cosplay, not the prim and proper public self, but the secret bold sexy self I only showed at conventions, among strangers.
I climbed onto the basketball timekeepers tower above the gym floor, the lights set up turned the gym into something far brighter than the noon sun. Vihaan, and Arjun dragged a cutely screaming Courney and Anna, in cheerleader outfits, although from the bouncing of their overdone struggles, clearly without sports bra as they bounced visibly beneath their cheerleader tunics. Those tarts. They really knew better than to dress that way, it was not quite obscene but in this light the white of their cheerleader tunics displayed their charms to a degree their parents would kill me for.
The dialogue was bad. Taking you sluts to serve in dockside brothels where Indian sailors could enjoy their blonde bodies in shifts by the dozens. That was my queue. I jumped down from the high chair, the gym floor echoing as I stuck the classic superhero landing, and struck my pose as Wonder Woman.
I towered over both the boys and the cheerleaders, they responded to my landing by moving in classic bad martial arts movie attacks. I really was stronger than either of them, and in short order hand them bound back to back, the cheerleaders positioned to either side bouncing like they missed their pom poms and cheering inanely.
Cue the villain. This time, Aaloka Bakshi stalked in in a green and gold Sari. She was covered in henna tatoos on her arms, and her perfect feet bound in golden sandals. She had gold at wrists, neck and even a golden chain woven like a circlet into her glossy black tresses. She moved like a dancer, so smooth and gracious a ballerina or tea ceremony master would weep. Beside her loomed Sai and Arnav.
I heard her voice in my ear, the liquid Hindi falling from her live voice sounded seductive and menacing, she brandished the starter pistol like a cobra flaring its hood. Full of menace, but her words in my ear were strange, and confusing.
“You are so strong, so proud, so clueless. You have no idea why you are here, why any of you are here. You are drawn here to be taught what you are, who you are, and yet you want to resist. See how you resist the violence your kind understand so easily” Aaloka Bakshi’s voice in my ear sounded as she struck a pose with the starter pistol and I matched with my guarding vambraces. She fired a shot, and I mimed blocking it with a karate hard block.
Aaloka Bakshi’s voice sounded in my ear again, so soft, making my body tremble as the words caressed me. “See how helpless you are to the attack on your need, your desire, your true nature”
Sai threw a kick and I blocked it by reflex, then Arnav slapped my ass with a hard spank. I cried out and turned. Sai slapped my other cheek when I did. Then Aaloka Bakshi struck another pose and fired a second shot. I blocked it, her voice continued to sound.
“So strong against violence, no outside force can match you, but you do not command yourself. Each smack on your ass reminds you of your need. Your need to submit, to serve, to be used. An object to serve the lust of your dark eyed masters and mistress” Aaloka Bakshi’s voice disturbed me. Two more kicks were thrown, and mechanically I blocked them, two more spanks were delivered to my ass, and I felt the blush, my hardening nipples, dampening panties. What was going on.
Aaloka Bakshi voice drew my attention to what was going on in the foreground. “Look at the girls you were trying to save, the pampered children of privilege, the rich the beautiful, so proud that they sneer at even the rich good looking boys who try to win their hands, look what they are doing now. Look at them in the place they choose for themselves” Her voice made me look and I gasped.
Courtney and Anna were in their cheerleader skirts, but their tops were gone. Bare breasted, they knelt before the bound Vihaan and Arjun. Long pink tongues traced the undersides of long dark cocks. Huge Hindu cocks thicker and longer than her husbands. Hooded with foreskins so unlike circumsized western men, they looked primitive, powerful and potent, and the blonde twins worshipped them with the devotion of priestesses or slaves.
I felt the hands of Sai and Arnav rubbing my ass, caressing my neck, causing me to lean forward. They continued to spank me, first one, then the other. In between they nibbled at my neck, my ears.
Aaloka Bakshi’s voice sounded in my ears, soft, sensual irresistible. “Don’t you know pornography is illegal to make in India, but everyone uses VPN to watch it anyway. We run your internet, so you can bet we master our own. Your AV club allows us to make high quality product and fiancé our higher education. Your people rig the system so we can’t win, aren’t welcome in the member only clubs that offer the full ride scholarships. That is OK, because we understand what you are. You pretend to be frigid, pretend to be proper, but it just means you cannot master your sexuality, your needs. You cannot be masters of it, so you are its SLAVES” She whispered in my earpiece, and I moaned.
Standing in front of me now, she took the “magic lasso” off my hip and looped it around me. Striking a villainess pose she stared up at me, those dark disturbing eyes burned as they poured into mine. Her voice rang now first in Hindi, then English.
“The lasso compels truth, do you wish to resist us, or serve us. Do you wish to strike my cheek? “ Aaloka Bakshi turned and offered her cheek to my hand. Turning to face me again, she extended her henna painted toes in those golden sandals, she pointed her foot.
“Or do you wish to kneel and kiss my foot, kneel and beg to be used by the hard Hindu cocks of my men, and if you are very lucky, serve to satisfy those urges I have, and cannot yield to until I have married like a proper Hindu maiden”
The hands were rubbing my ass, but no pressure was being put on me. I heard a cry, and there was Anna on her hands and knees, her long blonde hair in Vihaan’s fist as he sunk his hard cock into her, bending her back in a bow as he impaled her. Twin sister Courtney could not talk, her tongue wrestling with Arjun’s as he held her in mid air and bounced her pale body up and down on his hard Hindu cock.
I looked at Aaloka Bakshi and she took pity on my confusion. She pointed down to her delicate light brown foot, and I fell to my knees, then belly as I pressed my lips to her foot. My tiara brushing the trail of her Saree as I kissed her foot. I could feel Sai and Arnav unfastening my chest armour, and when Aaloka Bakshi tugged on my lasso, I came to my knees between Sai and Arnav’s hard cocks and let them proceed to spank my face with their cocks as they spanked my tits with hard hands. I was shaking with lust as I teased my tongue beneath my student’s foreskin to taste my first Hindu cock, and knew it would not be my last.
I was placed on hands and knees between them as I opened my mouth to gasp as Sai pushed a much thicker head than any penis I had previously experienced into my needy and soaking pussy. I opened my mouth to whimper and felt Arnav feed me his hard cock, and felt my heavy breasts flop as I felt the driving power of the boys drive me between them.
I was taller, stronger, older, their teacher, but I was helpless, enslaved and conquered by those boys, those hard Hindu cocks, and the proud boys, no, the young men who showed me who was the master and who the slave. I came before Sai had worked all of his cock into me, and felt Aaloka Bakshi pull my hair back from my face, instructing Arnav to make sure my face was always visible. After all, conquest so total has to be seen to be believed.
I felt Sai explode inside me, unprotected and my pussy clamped down on him as I orgasmed so powerfully my arms collapsed and I fell off Arnav’s cock. I felt Sai put his foot on the side of my face, and he emptied his balls into my white womb as he pressed my face into he gym floor as my body totally submitted to his master.
Arnav laughed, picked me up by my hair and put me on my knees in front of him. He took control of my head and began to thrust more powerfully into me. I gagged, my makeup running as tears filled my eyes as I choked, but I grasped his thigh with my right, and felt my wedding ring in my left as I cupped his heavy dark balls in my other hand. I have never felt that need to please a man as I felt right now. I was his to use, an object, not a person, and all my worth derived from his cum, his pleasure. I was consumed, almost mad with need.
I felt Arnav’s cock swell even further, his breathing become ragged, and balls tense. I wanted his cum, I wanted to feel it fill me inside as I was filled in my womb, but Arnav wanted to show me who was boss. He pulled my head off his cock by my hair, and begging like a baby bird for a worm I whimpered mouth open and tongue extended as he stroked his hard cock until he exploded all over my face, my breasts, my hair, and my Wonder Woman tiara.
I guess I was a sight, because soon Vihaan and Arjun replaced him, stroking their hard cocks until they bathed me, hair to breasts. I was allowed at last to suck them clean, to taste for myself the wonderful salty potent seed that I would now desire for the rest of my life. Anna and Courtney pressed themselves against me, licking the sperm off my lips, my cheeks, my breasts as Aaloka Bakshi laughed in the background.
I had time to think about what happened as we all cleaned off. I was aware that this could destroy my professional life, my family life. But. But. I have never ever been so fulfilled. I have never wanted anything so much as to please Aaloka Bakshi, never felt my body respond to anything the way I responded to those boy’s hands, mouths, and oh my god, cocks.
I sat at my desk. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Aaloka Bakshi slid across from me on my desk, looking down on me in the chair. She handed me a clip board and smiled at me. “This is a standard models release. You sign everywhere I have highlighted, and initial by the x and the film distribution will be legal. If its not, the only places we could distribute it would be those dodgy porn sites here in North America where anyone could see it.
I blushed and cast my eyes down. I signed the papers. I had no choice.
Aaloka Bakshi delicate hand cupped my chin and turned my face up so my ice blue eyes were facing her deep dark sensual ones. Her voice was so soft, it slid right through me like a fine whiskey, filling me with heat, comfort, and blissful surrender. “Hey, I really liked what I saw from you out there. I think you are going to be a natural. You really can help make sure all of us in the club get the education we deserve. I may have leaders in our local community who want to meet you as well, people whose help can make a real difference to our students. You know that kind of devotion would really impress me, would make me really feel I could trust you and open to you”
The offer was clear, if I allowed her to decide who and how to perform sexually, she might, just might let me serve her sexually as well. I didn’t even think I was bisexual before today, and now I am going to let her turn me into a porn star, or prostitute just to make her smile.
Like Anna and Courtney, I had encountered something so far beyond my experience that my pride and independence meant nothing. I had encounted Hindu love, and for the chance of her kiss, or her smile, I would be her most devoted slave. My student, my…owner. My love. My Hindu goddess, and the dark potent gods with their hard Hindu cocks who taught me my place.