Date: Fri, 30 Sep 2011 11:04:22 +0200
From: Penelope Silversmith <penelope.silversmith@gmail.com>
Subject: Bindi Chapter II

Bindi -- Chapter II
By Penelope

Warning: If your under 18 or it is illegal to read this, then don't--go
elsewhere.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal
reading, pleasure, or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them
on your own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2011 Penelope, All rights reserved

Please mail to penelope.silversmith@gmail.com if you have any suggestions
or comments.

---

I led Bindi through the dirty crowded streets to the bungalow which I was
using. My house was located in a cantonment that had once been used to
house British non-commissioned officers, mostly bachelors. My house was
part of a gated compound with a guard, with a surrounding wall and
barrier. What passed for middle class living for the local people was a far
cry from Western standards. A double bed, a rattan settee and an electric
fan were all the furnishings the house contained. There was a cement
kitchen sink and some cupboards but no stove or fridge. I ate all my meals
outside the house either in restaurants or from street vendors. The windows
were shuttered against the heat, and the thick walls provided some
insulation against the 40 plus degree temperatures outside. Attached to the
building was a simple shed which contained a tap with a length of hose
attached, and next to it the ubiquitous porcelain hole in the ground with
two footrests which passed for a toilet in this part of the world. That was
my bathroom.

As we entered my house I immediately became conscious of Bindi's smell. It
was pretty ripe. She smelled of the street, of the garbage she picked
through and of her own unwashed body. Outside with all the other smells of
the street it was not noticeable but here in my house it was overwhelming.

'Right.' I thought. 'Clearly a cleaning is the first order of business.'

I beckoned her outside to what I called the bathroom, took the hose in my
hand, turned it on and handed her the soap. I began to tug at her clothes,
signalling to her that she should undress. She began to shake her head and
utter cries of protest. Clearly she did not want to strip. I felt I had to
assert my authority, so I repeated my gestures and she continued to
refuse. I folded my arms, put an exaggerated frown on my face and pointed
to the gate.

'Jao (go away)'. I told her firmly several times and turned my back on her
to walk back into the house.

My pantomime had an effect. I heard the faint rustle of her clothes coming
off and when I turned around she stood there naked with the pile of her
pathetic clothes at her feet. I had a clear view of her thin naked brown
body, her slim hips, flat belly and visible ribs. Her breasts were barely
noticeable, but her nipples were large by comparison and dark brown, nearly
black. Her legs were so thin that the space between her thighs afforded me
a clear view of the outlines of her hairless brown pussy. The plumpness of
young western girls I had known was entirely absent in her vulva, and I
could detect her inner lips peeking out between her folds.

I set aside my sexual interest for the moment and concentrated on cleaning
her. I directed the hose on her and used the stream of tepid water to
thoroughly soak her from head to toe. I then handed her the bar of soap,
she cleaned herself to my satisfaction. I fetched a bottle of shampoo and
began to tackle her hair. She did not appear to mind my touching her in
that way. It was a herculean task but I eventually got it to some semblance
of cleanliness. It was still matted and tangled, surely had not seen a comb
or brush for years. I had a horror of what bugs or disease still lay under
the tangle, but I left it for the time being.

I gave Bindi a towel to dry off with, and when she had done so, she reached
to put on her clothes. I stopped her decisively. With an exaggerated
gesture I threw them into the dirt of the garden, took her by the hand and
led her into the house. There I fetched her one my t-shirts and made her
put it on. It was a blue t-shirt with the caption: A Woman Without A Man Is
Like A Fish Without A Bicycle, with the appropriate cartoon of a fish
riding a bicycle on the front. A souvenir of my lesbian rights days in
University. Bindi seemed happy enough to wear the shirt; it was huge on her
small frame and came nearly to below her knees. I gave her a big smile and
signalled my approval. She saw this and gave me a big smile in return.  At
that moment whatever doubts I had began to melt away.

Supper was the next order of business. I left her alone in my house and
went about 100 metres up the road and purchased some curry and Nan bread. I
bought enough for four people. My instinct proved correct because when I
served the food, Bindi ate for three, and probably could have eaten for two
more. I was pleased. It was getting late and I wanted to sleep. I went to
brush my teeth. I had a spare toothbrush and gave it to her. She mimicked
my every move. I was not sure if she had ever used a toothbrush before but
she did a good job copying me. Next I applied some cream to my face, a
nightly ritual I found necessary in this climate.

Next I got undressed, normally a pretty mechanical act. But I was conscious
of her eyes on me and I was certain of her curiosity. I unbuttoned the army
type shirt I wore. I find the large breast pockets in those kinds of shirts
very handy, as I did not normally carry any kind of purse or handbag. Then
with two hands I pulled up the lycra sports bra I normally wore. I prefer
to go braless and my breasts are small enough to get away with it, but at
that time in India it just wasn't done. It would invite unwanted attention
and undermine my authority. I took my time and let Bindi have a good view
of my breasts and the brown curly hair under my arms. I don't bother to
shave, partly because no one would notice and also in the hot humid climate
it was just one more place to invite a rash. I am quite proud of my boobs,
they were barely a B at that time, but still had the shape and firmness of
my youth. My nipples were large by comparison and got like little pencil
erasers when hard.

Still naked from the waist up I pulled off my jeans and underpants in one
motion. At that time, and today still, I wear half-sized comfortable cotton
undies, sometimes white and sometimes a pastel colour. Plain and
comfortable; anything more delicate or fancier would not last in the
climate or the frequent washings required. My bush was then not trimmed or
shaved, nor is it today. I am not that hairy now and I was less hairy then,
but I still had a mound of brown curls draping my crotch and vulva which
trailed down my crack and ringed my ass. On impulse and noticing Bindi's
eyes riveted on me I turned away from her and bent down naked to pick up my
jeans and undies. I gave her a clear view of my pussy and ass from the
rear.

I put on the long t-shirt I usually slept in, still noticing Bindi's eyes
on me unwavering. It occurred to me I must look terribly foreign and exotic
to her. Surely I was the first westerner she had laid eyes on and certainly
the first to see naked. She took a blanket from the bed and proceeded to
curl on the floor with it. I patted the bed and motioned her to join me on
it but she would not be persuaded. It was late and I was tired so I pulled
a sheet over me and went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to
pee and observed her small form curled on the floor illuminated by the
moonlight shining through the shutters. One leg was bent and the other
straight and her t-shirt had ridden up above her waist. Her thin dark naked
buttocks were visible and so was the fleshy crevice between her legs. I
felt a pang of arousal as the image was imprinted in my memory. I returned
to bed and dreamed of dark young female flesh.

The next morning I decided the first order of business was to find some
clothes for Bindi. I left her alone in the house and headed for the
market. I decided I didn't want her in a Sari or any traditional Indian
women's clothing, so I chose instead some long trousers, t-shirts and
flip-flops as well as some underwear I thought would fit her. Of course I
also picked up some food, which I gave her first and which she ate as if it
was her last meal. Then I gave her the clothes. Bindi said something I did
not understand, but put them on without a fuss. Thankfully they fit. While
she was changing I once again had the opportunity to see her naked. She was
so small and looked so innocent. Her body was very thin but well
proportioned. I could not keep my eyes off her small dark pussy. I thought
she noticed me staring and I blushed and looked away.

I took her with me to work. I knew they would have all heard what I had
done from their colleague, and I received some strange looks, but no one
said anything. I indicated Bindi should sit in a chair next to my desk, and
she took up residence there, not moving from it the whole time we were in
the office. Surely she had never been in an office before and she took in
everything that went on with those big brown eyes of hers.

Rahul was a young Indian Christian who was my second in command and the
person who generally translated my instructions to the others. I would not
call him a friend, but we got along pretty well. He knew nothing of my
preference for women, nor did I want him to know. I took him aside and told
him that I had decided to take care of Bindi. He nodded, probably thinking
I had some misplaced maternal instinct. He told me to be careful because
the street children could not be trusted. And he asked me kindly if there
was anything he could do to help. I thanked him and told him I would let
him know.

I was pretty busy for the rest of the day. While in the office Bindi just
sat there. Occasionally I paused to offer her some tea or ask if she needed
to use the toilet. I took her out for lunch to a nearby canteen, and again
she ate for two. After that I had to run some errands around town and used
a tri-shaw. This is was the most common form of transport in India at the
time. It is small motor scooter with two wheels on the back and a three
seat bench mounted on the rear chassis. Most also have a canvas or beaten
metal roof to keep off the rain. Bindi and I sat in the back of the
tri-shaw as it careened around the narrow streets of the town. Each turn
pushed us close together and I enjoyed the feel and of her small warm body
against mine.

The temperature was in the high 30s and very humid. In no time at all I was
soaked with my perspiration. Bindi seemed unaffected by the heat, only a
small row of moisture on her upper lip gave any indication of the
temperature. Wherever we went she stayed very close to me, once or twice
even taking me by the hand when it was possible we would lose each other in
a crowd. We looked an odd couple, me tall and blonde, her short and
dark. Eventually my errands were finished, I stopped briefly at the office
and we went for supper. Even though it was dark the night was sweltering
hot. We sat in an open air restaurant eating our curry dishes on benches
covered in plastic table cloths. Around us the noise of the city continued,
cars and Tri-shaws driving by, beggars stopping to implore us for
food. Even at night the sights and sounds of India never ceased.

During dinner I began teaching Bindi rudimentary English. I began with
words for familiar objects like man, woman, food, knives, forks and so
on. She was a clever girl and a quick learner. I believe any reluctance she
may have had initially disappeared, and she began to trust me. Of course it
could be expected as I was the first person to show her kindness and
affection since her mother died. Bindi also opened up and smiled a lot
more, her smile was a wonder to behold; she was all teeth and her dark
black eyebrows would knit together over her large brown eyes.

When we returned to my house I was seriously hot and sticky. Almost as soon
as I got in the door I had stripped off my clothes and headed out to the
bathroom. There I used the hose to cover myself with the lukewarm water and
wash off the sweat and grime of the day. I washed my hair too, using
shampoo I had brought from abroad. Feeling a lot cleaner and even fresh I
walked into the house naked holding a towel. In my absence Bindi had
cleaned the house and changed into the t-shirt I had given her the night
before. While my clothes lay in a pile on the floor hers were neatly folded
on the dresser. I was pleased and direct in my praise. I took the little
girl in my arms and gave her a hug telling her how good she had been. I had
forgotten I was naked and could not help notice the warmth of her small
body on my naked skin.

Taking things a step further I bent over and kissed her on the mouth
lightly. She did not respond but she did not pull away either. I noticed
her hair was still a knotted dishevelled mess and it had bothered me all
day. I attempted to sign and pantomime that we had to fix this, and
grabbing a brush, shampoo and conditioner I took her out to the shower to
see if I could put it in order. I lifted off her t-shirt and admired her
nubile naked body again. This time I attacked her hair first with the
shampoo and conditioner and then with the brush. An hour later I was still
frustrated, there appeared to be no way to tame her unruly tangles and
years of ground in dirt.

I had an idea -- if I could not untangle it perhaps I could cut it. I found
the sharp scissors I used to trim my own hair and tried to make her
understand I was going to cut hers. I think had I tried this the day before
she would have rebelled. But we had built up enough trust that even though
I knew she was not happy about it, she did not try to stop me. I should
mention that I had observed not a single Indian woman or girl I had met had
anything but nearly waist-length black tresses. So I set to work and it
took nearly an hour. By the time I had finished her straight black hair
came to just below her ears in a fringe about the same length all
around. In fact I had given her nearly the same hairstyle I wore myself.

We were both naked as I did this, partly because I took Bindi in and out of
the shower to wet her hair and clean off the cut-off locks, and partly
because I wanted her to get used to us being naked together. It was not so
much that I was consciously attempting to seduce her. Rather for me it was
an experience that I was willing to push to see how far I could go, and I
was hoping nature would take its course. When I showed her the final result
in the mirror and made happy noises to her she seemed pleased. I kissed her
again gently and told her how beautiful she looked. She did not understand
the words but I was able to get the idea across.

By this time it was late and I was ready for bed. I lay down in it without
putting on my nightshirt and beckoned for Bindi to join me. This time she
came and jumped into bed next to me, like a little girl would. This was the
first time I had seen her act in such a childlike way. I took her in my
arms and pulled her close to me. My body pale against her dark skin, my
hard nipples pushing their way into her chest. I held her close to me and
stroked her hair and back. Her face nuzzled into the crook of her neck and
I could feel her warm breath against me. I used my fingers to gently
explore her back, her buttocks and her legs.

Within a short time her breath changed and I sensed she had fallen asleep
in my arms. Still holding her close I reached down and slipped my finger
between my legs, bisecting the full growth of soft curly hair on my pubis,
and using it to flick the hard bud of my clitoris. Careful not to waken
Bindi I used my finger to circle and stroke my clit. The feel of her small
body next to mine and her sweet scent, a combination of soap, spices and
young girl aroused me very strongly. A familiar tension began to build in
my pelvis and I was soon moaning softly as I brought myself to a climax. I
could feel the juices from within me had released and produced a slippery
slickness between my legs. It was a very good orgasm, and blissfully
unaware of it little Bindi lay in my arms, deep in untroubled sleep.

To be continued...