Date: Tue, 27 Sep 2011 12:01:29 +0200 From: Penelope Silversmith Subject: Story 'Bindi' Part 1 for lesbian adult youth archive. Bindi -- Chapter I 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. --- Buying a dress for my sweet little Bindi almost resulted in my being fired from my first job with the Charity. The occasion was the dedication of a new orphanage for girls the Missionary Group had partly funded. A number of dignitaries were present including the Canadian Ambassador to India. I had prepared the only dress I owned for the ceremony and I had chosen for Bindi a schoolgirl uniform especially for the occasion. At home I rushed to prepare myself for the ceremony, styling my hair, putting on a touch of makeup, and getting the creases our of my own dress. I tossed the new uniform to Bindi, and instructed her to put it on quickly. When I was done getting myself ready, I noticed her standing there, in the dress, white knee socks on her dark brown legs, and her hair nicely combed and parted. She looked so sweet and beautiful, and I told her so. With a mischievous smile on her face she used both hands to lift the skirt up, showing me she was not wearing any underpants. Her brown little pussy with its plump lips and the crease visible between her thin legs stopped me in my tracks. Without thinking I lifted her onto the dresser and buried my face in the little girls' sex. My tongue slipped between her folds and I tasted the sweet essence of her which was by now so familiar to me. One thing led to another and we were soon lost in a passionate encounter between an adult European woman and a pre-pubescent dark-skinned Indian girl. When our passion for each other was temporarily satisfied, I realized we were very late and our carefully prepared dresses were now stained and wrinkled. There was nothing to be done about it but get dressed, wrinkles and all, and hurry to the school where ceremony was to take place. Luckily the Ambassador was late too, and no one noticed me arrive with Bindi. But it was a close call and I resolved to be more careful in future. Here is the story which led up to the events that occurred that day. When I was a newly minted foreign aid worker one of my first overseas assignments was to the city of Trivandrum in the State of Kerala in India. I was only 22 and responsible for the entire Aid Project of a group of Canadian churches. I found myself in charge of ten people in this out of the way place. It was hot, dirty, the people were mostly dishonest and the work relentless. This was before the days of internet and my only communication with head office was by letter which took a fortnight, and the occasional overseas call. The only benefits were I had no one locally to answer to and in my own world I was a Goddess. I confess I was young enough to let it go to my head. Fortune smiles on fools and I managed to get away with it -- but I am getting ahead of my story. I found myself in this job because although I was trained as a teacher, I was caught having sex with one of my young female students. She was barely 13, and although I avoided prosecution it was very strongly suggested I get as far away as possible and never to show my face in the town or even the country again. A cousin felt sorry for me and introduced me to the Church Aid organisation which, after some training, send me to India. So began my career in Foreign Aid, which has continued to this day. I should describe myself - I am medium height by Canadian standards -- which made me taller than most I worked with in Trivandrum -- slim build and short brown hair. I am not really pretty but I have a straight prominent nose which gives my face character. Many men and also women have found me attractive. I have no interest in the former, and as you might guess my taste for the latter runs to the younger variety. One of the main roles of our charity was to distribute powdered milk (Canadian-made) and biscuits to the street children of the city. Every day in the afternoon, my staff and I would set up a big cauldron of milk and the street children would line up to receive a cup. If they drank the milk -- it tasted pretty awful -- the children would be rewarded with a biscuit. The homeless street children were an even mixture of boys and girls, skinny, dirty, and dressed in rags. They were mostly lower cast Untouchables who had been abandoned by their parents to whom had befallen some accident or simply had not the means to feed another mouth. I am sure many escaped unspeakable situations: child labour or child prostitution. Almost all were pre-pubescent. I had a pretty good idea that once these children reached a certain age the boys would drift into petty crime and the girls into prostitution. I made it a point to supervise the milk and cookie detail myself. It really broke my heart at first to come into contact with these children who were so utterly without hope in their lives. After the first couple of days I noticed one young girl who seemed quieter and less rambunctious than the others. We used to feed over a hundred every day before our daily ration ran out. I don't know why I noticed this girl in particular. Perhaps it was the way she kept looking at me with her big brown eyes. I began to favour this little girl, making sure she was at the head of the line and even giving her second helpings if it were possible to do so with being too obvious. I was breaking all the rules, but they were my own. She must have been 10 or 11 but looked at least three years younger owing to malnutrition. She was very dark brown, had skinny legs and arms, and wore a dirty shapeless dress. Her teeth gave away her age though, they were large, white and clearly adult. She was barefoot and her feet and legs were indescribably filthy. It was her hair which was truly frightening; it was black, turning to dirty gray and matted. It reached the middle of her back and was tied somewhere near the end to keep it out of the way. I had learned some words of Malayalam, the local language. One day I noticed the girl was hanging around after all the milk and biscuits had been given out. I tried out some of my rudimentary language skills on her. I was pleased to see she responded shyly. I was able to teach her my name: Penny, which she pronounced as Peenee. She told me her name which was something unpronounceable, so I shortened it to Bindi and she seemed to respond to that. I could not understand much more of what she said so I asked one our local employees, a woman, to interpret for us. The woman was middle aged and dressed in what to my eyes was a fairly expensive looking Sari. She was slightly plump, light skin for an Indian and her long black hair was tied tightly in a bun behind her head. The contrast between her and the ragged street urchin could not have been greater. The woman was understandably quite reluctant; feeding these lower caste urchins was one thing. Actually getting to know one was another. But I was the boss, and young enough to use it to my advantage. I asserted my authority and the woman began a dialogue with my urchin. Thus I discovered she was indeed 11 as I had guessed. Bindi had actually been living on the street with her mother, begging. That is until her mother got sick and died a few weeks before. Bindi was alone now and running with a gang of girls and boys her own age. After translating this story for me the woman employee said it was very sad and that the girl had a very uncertain future. She said it would not be long before she would likely be abducted and forced into prostitution. I was a bit annoyed at her fatalistic attitude and I think this is what prompted me to do what I did next. I instructed my female employee to ask Bindi if she would like to work for me. I told her I needed an assistant. As I mentioned earlier I was young and impulsive. My motivations were partly altruistic, but I can confess that my sexual interest in young girls played a part in my offer. The woman balked at my request and began to argue with me, stating what I had in mind was wholly inappropriate and completely unsuitable. We argued for a bit and I put my foot down. 'Tell her what I told you. And tell her I will pay her one rupee per day. She will be in my care and I will provide food and shelter.' I said to the astonished woman. She translated my offer. The effect on Bindi was transforming. A bright smile lit up her face, she fell to her knees and put her arms around my legs and looked like she was about to kiss my feet. I motioned her to stand up and asked the woman to translate one more thing for me. 'Tell her she must obey me and follow my instructions. If she does not she will be on the street again.' This was duly translated and the woman seemed to feel a little better about what I was proposing. I learned Bindi had no possessions other than what she carried so I motioned her to follow me to my quarters. To be continued...