Indian Femdom Story: How My Desi Colleague Turned Me Into Her Devoted Servant and Ring on Her Finger

ndian Femdom Story: How My Desi Colleague Turned Me Into Her Devoted Servant and Ring on Her Finger

My name is Arjun, and I’m 28 years old now. I have a good education and live in Andheri, Mumbai. Currently, I work as a fashion model. I’m average height and weight, with fair skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. My features are calm and refined—if you saw me in real life, you’d think I’m one of those guys who looks respectable, clean-cut, and from a good family. There’s a masculine edge to my look that gives me presence and makes people take me seriously. But at the same time, my features have a bit of a foreign vibe; my skin is soft and fair, with a baby-face quality, especially when I smile. I’m always smiling and handsome—if I shaved off my mustache and beard and added just a touch of light makeup, I’d look exactly like a girl. And honestly, I’m lucky for that.

Even though I’m calm and level-headed, I’m sensitive and full of emotions—some innocent, some not so much. When it comes to sex, I’m open to everything and just go where my feelings take me. But in the end, I surrendered to my emotions and let them lead the way. Anyway, that’s me introducing myself. This is my story with Priya Madam, my colleague at work who turned me into a ring on her finger.

Part One: The Introduction

We worked together at a famous clothing brand store. She was a saleswoman, and I was a cashier. I had been there longer than her; she was new to me. Her section was right next to the cashier, so we were close by. There were plenty of times with no customers and nothing to do, so we’d sit together. At first, I didn’t notice her or see her in that way—I treated her like any other colleague. She didn’t have much presence either, since this was her first job after university. She wasn’t used to the place, the work, or dealing with coworkers, so she was quiet and just focused on finishing her tasks. She’d sit next to me in silence, and we’d exchange maybe a couple of words, that’s it.

We started eating breakfast and lunch together, and the conversations grew. We got used to each other a bit. Priya began to settle into the place and the people, acting more like herself and asserting her personality. And I started loving everything that emerged from her character—until I got attached to her and began feeling emotions toward her, thinking about her all the time. I noticed her sexy body and her strong personality.

I remember the first thing I noticed about her was her hands. Her hands were so fair, soft, and creamy. Sometimes she’d wear red nail polish and tattoos that made them look incredibly sexy. Have you ever seen a girl whose hands are that tempting? That’s Priya—everything about her is tempting. Her body is incredibly fair, curvy, and soft like they say “milky.” Her breasts are large, and she’s a bit taller than me. Her lips alone drive you crazy—plump and always pink. She’s strong in her build; even though it’s soft and creamy, her back is straight, and you feel like she’s got this commanding presence when she stands.

She’s younger than me, but she feels like a MILF. You don’t see her as just an ordinary girl or even a hot one like other hot girls—no, she’s a true female, tempting and mind-blowing. She takes care of herself, her clothes, and she imposes her personality on everyone, including our coworkers.

I didn’t want to tell her I was attracted to her for many reasons, so it was one-sided from me, and our interactions stayed normal without showing anything. One time, she was joking around with a young guy about her brother’s age—they were playfully hitting each other’s hands. His hand grabbed hers in the middle of the fun, and I got super jealous of him.

I wanted to joke like that and interact with her the same way, to hold those beautiful hands. So I joked with her using my hands and grabbed hers in the middle of it. But she didn’t accept that kind of treatment and messaged me after we left, telling me to treat her with boundaries or not deal with her at all. That’s natural because we’re the same age, and there should be sensitivity—it wouldn’t work for me to treat her like she treats the young kid she sees as a brother, the one I stupidly got jealous of.

I acted dumb and without thinking, got defensive, and distanced myself from her. I don’t know why I did that—maybe her tone on the phone when she scolded me hurt my pride a bit, or maybe I acted like girls do when they’re jealous of their boyfriend and pull away. But she saw it as me being petty, and we stopped talking—even no greetings. Yet, she got deeper into my head, and I loved her more.

One time, I was sitting with a colleague and told him how much I admired Priya and everything in my heart for her. I didn’t know the words would reach her—he told his girlfriend, who turned out to be Priya’s friend, and she passed it on. So she found out I was into her and started paying attention to me, noticing everything. She noticed the jealousy in my eyes when she interacted with someone, how much I missed talking to her, and my looks full of admiration and love—especially when she’d be absent for a couple of days and come back; I’d stare at her because I missed her. She saw my feelings for her, and I was exposed in front of her.

But she didn’t take any stance because she didn’t want me, even though there’s nothing wrong with me—nobody chooses who they love; it’s just feelings we have no control over. She sees me as just a guy who’s into her, like many who have fallen for her because she deserves it. Nobody deals with her without loving her—I’m not the first to fall in love with her.

I started thinking about her obsessively and feeling her more. It wasn’t just admiration anymore; I loved her, and my feelings showed. I wanted to talk to her but was careful, especially since she knew I was into her—it wouldn’t be easy to go back to normal interactions. But I didn’t plan it and spoke to her spontaneously.

One day, I went to eat breakfast and asked her, “Priya, should I get you breakfast with me?” since we used to eat together before. She gave me this weird look, full of arrogance, like she was saying, “You petty guy, why are you talking to me again?” She said, “I’ll see and get back to you.” Later, she came back and said, “No, I don’t want any.”

I got really upset and took it sensitively—a girl who knows I love her, and I’m trying to open a door with her, and she rejects me like that. What does that mean? Is she playing hard to get, or does she have an issue with me thinking I was petty when I distanced myself, or does she really not want me and it doesn’t matter to her if I come or go?

I said I’d try again and push more, determined to talk to her any way. She had a cold, so I went to check on her and said, “Priya, should I get you something from the pharmacy?” And with the same reaction as the first time, she said, “I’m not sure, I’ll see and get back to you.” A bit later, I went back, and she said, “No, I don’t want any.”

That’s the second time she rejected me. I thought, forget about her, and decided to move on for real. But despite everything, the first time I saw her again, without thinking, I went to her with a voice full of submission and weakness, like I was begging her to interact with me, and said, “Should I get you lunch with me?” She looked me up and down with a look full of control and power, and with a smile and flirt, she said, “I’ll see and tell you,” and again said no.

That’s the third time she did that to me. Now I understood—she doesn’t just answer right away and say no to reject me. No, she flirts first, builds my anticipation, makes me wait for the response, and in the end, calls me over smiling, and I go happy like we’re about to talk and interact, then she acts petty and says no.

This isn’t an easy girl; she’s playing with me. I was embarrassed to talk to her again—I looked so desperate. I didn’t talk to her for real, but my looks betrayed me. I kept giving her glances like I was seeing the moon in front of me and dying to talk to her—looks full of submission and longing.

Every morning I saw her, I’d greet her and stand a bit, hoping after she returns the greeting, she’d talk to me a little and open the door, but it didn’t happen. I’d try to act cute in front of her with the girls and guys, hoping conversation would lead to something, but she ignored me completely.

I started finding excuses to help her at work and be near her, grabbing any chance to talk to her. I thought I was doing all this slyly, the moves not obvious, and maintaining my dignity. But she understood everything, and my looks gave me away because one day I was talking to her friend and hoped she’d help, telling her I wanted to talk to Priya and I was dying for her. She said she knew, and Priya tells her about my moves, and told me word for word, “Forget about her; she doesn’t want you.”

Against my will, I couldn’t stop and get her out of my head. I started asking about her when she was absent and trying to get her news, and her friends would tell her every time, “Arjun came and asked about you.”

Now everything’s out in the open—this isn’t just a guy admiring her; this is a guy obsessed, chasing after a girl and going crazy for her. And she does things that drive me insane. She sees me coming in, turns her back to me—and I can’t describe how beautiful her back is, the pants she wears that shape her so perfectly. I’d stare literally until she turns again, our eyes meet, and I’d pretend I wasn’t looking, and she’d laugh at me. One time, she had sunflower seeds and was sharing with the girls. I was standing there, and she said, “Take some.” She put some in both her hands, and I opened both mine. She lowered hers onto mine so the seeds wouldn’t fall, her hands sticking to mine as she dropped them one by one, hand on hand.

Those hands I was obsessed with touched me, and I stared into her eyes, so turned on I shivered, and the seeds fell from me. She laughed hard—a laugh full of sluttiness and control, the laugh of an experienced woman with a pathetic guy.

She does moves that drive me crazy, and when I go to talk to her, she rejects me. Now I’m cooked and tired.

One time, I saw her and didn’t greet her like usual or pay attention to her. She greeted me, smiled, and said, “In a bit, I’ll call you to go buy me something.” I said, “Okay.” She teased the way I said “okay” and laughed, saying, “Good boy, go now.”

I was surprised and sat thinking, what is Priya planning? You’re not wanting me or leaving me alone, and the first time we talk like that, you order me like I’m your servant. She’s planning to play ball with me.

I kept waiting, so turned on and missing her calling me and hearing anything from her, but she ignored me, unfortunately. I couldn’t hold myself, forgot my pride and everything, went to her like a servant, and asked, “You said you wanted something from the kiosk—what do you want? I’m at your service.”

She laughed out loud—a real slutty laugh—and said, “You know, I forgot about you and what I wanted from you. The day is over; I don’t need anything.” I said, “Priya, I’m at your service anytime.”

That’s when things in our personalities started showing. It showed I’m weak and can’t control my emotions, that I love her madly to the point of ignoring my pride for her. It showed I’m a pushover and accept a woman bossing me around like that. It showed I’m such a cuck in front of her, that her simple moves light me up and drive me crazy.

It also showed she’s strong and controlling, doesn’t want me but loves playing with men and toying with them. She’s not straightforward—a slut who loves bossing, being petty, making the guy in front of her feel inferior. She loves the men around her; she loves tempting and turning them on. I fell for a scorpion, and if I keep going after her like this, it won’t end well—she’ll destroy me.

At that moment, I was upset with myself for what I was doing, but when I’m alone and remember those situations, I get so turned on.

I forgot to mention that often I imagine myself as a bottom, under a man who breaks me, destroys me, humiliates my manhood, and treats me like a slutty girl. I love that type of stories and movies and get turned on by them.

And the idea that a woman treats me like the man in that scenario turns me on even more.

Supposedly, the girl is weak, delicate, and cute, and the male is the one controlling her, making her do what he wants. He tells her when to go out, what to wear, who to talk to, and when he mounts her on the bed, she screams under him. When he’s done fucking her, she lies on the chest of the man who satisfied and destroyed her, happy and content.

Supposedly, he’s the one who rejects her, plays hard to get, talks to other girls, and she goes crazy with jealousy.

Supposedly, she’s the one loving him one-sidedly, thinking about him obsessively, dying to talk to him.

Supposedly, she’s the one wearing tight clothes to tempt him so he loves her, and her finger is wax for him.

I often feel that girl’s feeling and get turned on inside from that delicacy, submission, and weakness.

And the idea that a girl controls me and mounts me like that turns me on more.

It makes me feel how weak I am, how much of a cuck, how turned on.

Priya doesn’t want me as a boyfriend or man.

Priya is happy I’m chasing her, and if I continue this path, she’ll mount me and make me a ring on her finger.

She’ll exploit me and make me her servant, and she seems to love that.

I never expected to be in this situation for real.

Priya made me boil, anticipate, turn me on, and die for her—I’m ready to do anything for her.

My feelings for her changed. I don’t think of her normally with love and admiration like before. Now I love her strength and pettiness. I love when she tempts me and I can’t reach her, when I chase her and she rejects me, then pulls me back.

I don’t go ask her what to eat or get for her to open a conversation anymore—no, I do it because I want to and desire to serve her for real. Now I wish and get turned on by the idea that she asks me to get her something, and I run to bring it to her.

I feel like she’s a queen and I’m her servant.

And at that time, she was just playing and having fun.

Until one day, I went like every day to pay attention to her and said, “Priya, do you want me to get you something while I’m at the kiosk?” She got angry at me because she was upset about something, probably fighting with customers.

Anyway, she snapped at me and said, “Get out of my face! You have no blood, damn these men.”

At that moment, completely spontaneously without thinking, I said, “Priya, I know you don’t love me and won’t love me, and I don’t want anything from you except to let me serve you and carry you on my head.

I adore the ground you walk on, Priya. I wish to carry you in my eyes and be in your life in any way, even as siblings. Priya, I adore you—have mercy on me. I’m tired of you. I want to be your servant, Priya. What’s wrong if you order me? I’ll lick the ground you walk on.”

I couldn’t believe myself saying that. I said it looking into her eyes, coming from deep feeling. She looked at me, let me say everything, her anger suddenly turned, and she laughed a slutty laugh I’ll never forget—the laugh of a strong woman who just brought a man under her feet. I snapped back to myself, got embarrassed, left her, and walked away.

I went home and got so turned on thinking about it—a guy standing in front of a girl his age saying he’ll lick the ground she walks on. Oh man, the situation.

Is it possible I said that to her, and what will she do, what will she tell her friends?

You know when a guy picks up a girl at work and tells his colleagues?

Every time the girl passes by them, they tease her and say, like, “There’s so-and-so’s slut.”

Is it possible I’ll be like that, out in the open, and Priya’s friends when they see me say, “There’s Priya’s servant,” “The guy chasing Priya,” “Priya’s cuck.”

I’m not talking to a girl I like on Facebook—no, we’re at work. Priya could do things to me and exploit me in ways I can’t imagine, especially since I discovered she’s wild and not straightforward.

She seems like a real slut, and I fell for a scorpion—I don’t know how she’ll deal with me.

Inside me, there’s intense arousal and desire, ready for anything Priya says, to the point if she came in front of people and said, “Bend down and kiss my foot,” I’d do it.

And it seems the coming days will all be like that—how will we interact?!

Will we go out, have fun, she sends me nudes, we do phone sex, groping behind the desk?

No, this isn’t a normal relationship—this is a guy loving a slutty girl who’s rejecting him and heating him up until he told her he wants to serve her. How will she deal with me?

I keep thinking about her reaction—even if she’s a normal girl without sadistic tendencies, just being wild and not straightforward, any girl like her in her place would exploit the situation and not refuse a man wanting to be her pushover.

At the very least, she’ll boss me around, make me spend on her, show off in front of her friends. There are many things she could do, and it’s not far-fetched for a strong slut like her to be a queen, even if not in the way we see in stories and sadistic tendencies, but surely she’s living the queen role in her life. I imagine she won’t let me go—now I’ve fallen and cooked. The day ended, I went home, waiting for Priya’s reaction tomorrow.