Number saved Mr. Writer. I sent some smiley to her.The day passed. Same night on the bed, I was checking the message. I saw her online. I checked her ...rofile picture. She was in short skirt and off the shoulder top. She was posing like a model. I messaged her. She replied back after 5 min. We had the conversation on different kinds of stuff. Soon we become friends. We often meet outside for coffee, sometimes a walk. Days were passing good, We become habitual of each other’s company.One Day, I. She didn’t listen and darted across the shared front lawn, crouching to get into Propappou’s garage with Troy.The sounds of internal combustion and wheels spitting up dirt came from behind Helen, and the knowledge of who that could only be gave her another burst of speed as she ran into the garage and Troy pulled the door down behind her.Helen leaned against the inside of the garage door and caught her breath, half-expecting him to punch through the two inches of reinforced wood and grab her. So the following Saturday I made my way to her home, strangely thrilled at the prospect being alone with that lovely woman. Her husband was abroad working in a gulf country, and she was living alone. Even at that time I didn’t realize that she was enacting an elaborate drama, solely for the purpose of getting me alone at her house with the intention of seducing me.The moment I entered her house, I was in for a ‘sexsational’ shock. I had always seen her dressed in a saree only, so imagine my. The other slaves seemed to constantly brainwash me and treat me as a complete female but my mind refused to believe them. Some small change was however there and that was what scared me. I seemed to enjoy putting on the make up and the sexy dresses. The feel of the light smooth skirts on my legs and the unrestricted movement that trousers don't provide usually left me quite excited.Some of this was noticed by Rohana, the head slave, who must have reported this to Princess Laila. The princess.