Gorey Chucho ka doodh (white cow milk)
It was that time of the month. Aunt Flow was visiting. There are a whole lot of commercials that talk about having a happy period, a whole lot of books from women talking about the miracle of the red tent. The truth is, I feel like crap. I cramp, nothing fits, I feel tired, I smell, my hoo-hah is a tender unwelcoming and uncooperative place, and I get clumsy. Maybe this is miraculous to someone, but I find it about as much fun as midterms, but graduation will not be until somewhere in my fifties.
My name is Michaela Glasgo, a Petroleum Engineering grad student at UBC, and right now I am getting my period therapy from Vivek, my boss at Ashlil Vishar. My boss, my Sahib, my lover. I was working my nerve up to call him something else, which is hard because my period therapy from Vivek is pretty intense.
The nipple clamps were painful and the chain on them was weighted with little bells that tinkled to match the great cowbell at my collar every time Vivek spanked my ass. My ass was as read as my cheeks, and in between spanks, he would slide a finger, then two into my tight little asshole.