The Sri Lankan Refugee (femdom, inter, humil) Pushpa stood in front of the wardrobe mirror looking at her naked body and sighed sadly. She was in her mid-forties now and her once slim body was now growing plump, a fact which was accentuated by her short height. Her breasts were large and heavy, her stomach round and her thighs grew thicker every year just as her ass grew larger and rounder. Her limbs too betrayed her increasing weight. Even her long beautiful black hair was now tinged with grey and her pretty face was growing rounder. Pushpa sighed again. She felt so old, so ugly, so unwanted, the fact reinforced every time she stepped out of the squalid bedsit that was now her home and heard the cutting remarks from British people about her dark complexion. Even her fellow South Asians looked down on her dark Tamil skin. Tears ran down Pushpa's face. She felt sure she was destined to remain alone and uncared for in this cruel foreign land. Sure she would never again taste the cock she loved so much even though she hated the way men used her and treated her a servant rather than an equal. Pushpa's anger flared again. Yes, she hated men except for the pleasure they could give her. She especially hated white men, white men like those who sneered at her in the street, like those who had abused her when she had been a young servant girl in an expatriate household back in Sri Lanka. She had often dreamed, as she had told Neela the young Indian lawyer who had successfully arranged her acceptance as a refugee from the war, of being a rich lady with servants attending her every whim. Those servants would all be white men, men she would humiliate and debase, whom she would teach to respect her and other South Asians, whom she would use as toys for her pleasure. Pushpa was becoming quite wet as she fantasised, her hand masturbating her pussy but she soon swung back to reality. This dirty little bedsit was her future now. She would live and die alone here, her destiny unfulfilled. There was a knock at the door. Hastily Pushpa dressed in shorts and T-shirt and opened the door. It was Neela, slim, attractive, as usual smartly dressed in a dark business suit. "I have been thinking a lot about that fantasy you described to me." said Neela after she had seated herself. "Would you really like to have a white man for your personal slave?" Pushpa blushed. "There is no use talking about the impossible I am too old and ugly for such thoughts." Neela laughed. "My dear you are still very beautiful, believe me.. Anyway, looks are unimportant. What is really important is that you truly desire to own a white man." "If only I could." mused Pushpa. "But you can." said Neela "Come with me now and I will give you everything you dreamed of. Of course if you would rather wait here..." Pushpa, in a sudden moment of decision, leaped to her feet. She did not take time to change but followed Neela out to her car. Neela did not speak during the journey to the club, preferring to keep everything a surprise. They parked outside and she led a bewildered Pushpa inside. Pushpa thought she had entered a dream world as she followed Neela into the dimly lit club. The club was full of scantily clad men and women of all colours but it was clear that the women were in charge. Many were dressed in leather costumes but a significant number were dressed conventionally like Neela. The men, however, were universally clad in simple cock pouches and leather collars attached to slender chains which were held by the women. The male waiters wore a similar costume. The men were engaged in a number of activities while the women smoked and drank and chatted to each other, ignoring the men for the most part. Pushpa saw men licking the shoes of women, massaging their feet, sucking their toes, licking their legs, licking up drinks which were kindly spilt on the floor for them by their Mistresses. She saw two women standing together while men on their knees licked both their asses, she saw women using men as chairs or footstools, she even saw men lapping at their Mistresses pussies in the darker corners of the room. Pushpa felt hotter than she had ever felt before. She had never dreamed men might really submit to women like this. What particularly thrilled her was seeing several white men on their knees before Asian and Black women and seeing young men bent low before women who were both older and larger than her. Suddenly she felt hope renew inside her. Perhaps Neela really would make her dream come true. She followed her beautiful young companion to the rear of the club where a white man was tethered to the bar. Neela sat down on a bar stool near the man and motioned Pushpa to join her. Pushpa sat down beside the man, his white, near naked body now almost touching her. As soon as she sat the man knelt down head lowered, as if he felt it would be disrespectful to look at her. Pushpa liked this sign of submissiveness which she had often had to adopt in her homeland. "This piece of white trash," said Neela, not even glancing at the man "is well known for his desire to serve South Asian women. According to his previous owner who has now grown bored with him he is 34 yrs old, an executive with a comfortable home. He is well trained in all domestic service, cleaning, cooking, washing, gardening and is able to serve at functions for your friends. Sexually he has no desire but to please his Mistress. He will perform any act no matter how degrading but is particularly suitable for ass, foot and breast worship. He is trained to obey any command instantly and will answer to any name you give him. He will not speak or think without permission." She paused and noticed Pushpa's intense, lustful stare at the white slave kneeling beside her. She smiled. "If you accept you will be officially employed as his live-in housekeeper. This is necessary because of your immigration status. In reality you will be the Mistress of the house and he will be your houseboy to be treated as you see fit. His earnings will be entirely at your disposal. even if you decide to take a lover he will remain your slave to be used and abused as you desire, a toy for your pleasure. If you wish you may introduce him as such to your friends." She turned to Pushpa. "Well, is this what you want." Pushpa smiled. "Look up dog." she commanded He looked up into her face, a face that seemed to him beautiful beyond compare. "Describe my body slave." she ordered "It is the body of a Goddess." replied the slave with sincerity, as his eyes drank in her large, tantalising breasts clearly outlined under her T-shirt. "My ass is not too big?" inquired Pushpa, standing it and presenting it to his face. It is wondrous." replied the slave. Pushpa slowly slid down her shorts to expose her ass cheeks. "Kiss it." she snapped. The minute she felt his lips and his tongue on her ass, felt his fervent kisses, she knew the slave was hers and she almost came with excitement, her imagination racing with ideas on how she would use him. She saw a woman cry angrily at a slave who had spilt her drink and strike him with a short whip. She looked inquiringly at Neela who smiled and nodded. "Yes my dear Pushpa. If you have to punish him you are free to do so. I am sure you will always find some fault with his work." Pushpa felt happy, very happy. Her dream had come true. Less than an hour ago she had been alone and living in a dirty bedsit. Now she owned a man, a white man, a younger man who would be her houseslave and her sex slave. A man she could treat as so many men had treated he, a man she could punish and vent her frustrations on as she desired, a man who saw in her body the body of a Goddess, a man who would give her his home and his wealth in order that he might be allowed to worship her. Yes, she was very happy. "I will take the dog." she smiled. She moved into my home the same evening.