The Gora (Repost)

Jan 1, 2010
Inspired by the incredible 'Kelly the office nightmare' story I've managed to find a story I wrote some years ago called 'The Gora'. Here's the first few chapters....

The Gora pt1

It was my first day at the office. It had all seemed pleasant enough, a normal looking industrial unit a few miles from Town, import export business, it wasn't the best paid job in the world but the hours were good and it was near my bus route.
The first day at work I noticed straight away that I was the only white male in the office, nearly all the other staff were Indian women, this wasn't a problem for me, I had always admired Indian women for their beauty and achievements however, things got a little tedious as there was little English spoken in the office. This wasn't because they were straight from India, on the contrary most of them were quite western in appearance, boots, court shoes, business attire, no I assumed it was because of the nature of the import export business and its dealings with the subcontinent.
My week had been fairly uneventful, even boring, I was the office floater covering others jobs and any odds and ends that needed doing. On the Friday however, the changes began to happen. A colleague, Jatti, spilled her coffee right by the large window, I was on hand so grabbed a cloth and, on my hands & knees began to clean up the spill. Suddenly I heard a scream, looked up and saw most of the office running towards me, I found myself amidst a sea of boots and shoes all jostling for position at the window. Just as I was about to try and extricate myself I felt a sharp pain on my hand and looked down to see a pair of heels belonging to a pair of tan coloured boots pressing into my flesh, then a black kitten heeled court shoe began jumping up and down on my other hand before settling down to crush my hand flat.
The women were making so much noise that I had to take the pain as they wouldn't have heard me and I was slightly embarrassed and I have to say, slightly aroused. As I knelt amongst the sea of legs with my hands being vandalised by heels and soles I gathered that it was someone famous outside, probably paying a visit to the Asian photographic studios next door, the women were certainly very excited, so much so that they either didn't notice me or ignored me at their feet.
Just when I was beginning to wonder whether I should shout up in case I got branded a pervert I heard a sharp female voice. It sounded like Bally, my immediate boss. As she walked towards the window the girls cleared a space for her, giving my poor, painful hands some relief from the heel onslaught.

Gora pt 2

I was just about to start to get up and explain to my boss why I was kneeling amongst the feet of all these beautiful Indian women when I felt a sharp pressure on my back and then felt a huge weight bearing me down.
I looked up as best I could & couldn't believe what I was seeing, My boss, Balli had climbed on my back & now was standing on me shouting & cheering in Hindi with all the other girls. She was using me as a stool to get a better view out of the window! I knelt on the floor for what seemed like 20 minutes, totally bewildered and astonished by this turn of events, as my bosses' weight bore down on me, my legs going numb and my hands once more crushed by boot heels and shoe soles. My mind went blank and all I could feel was the sensation of being slowly crushed by women. As soon as it started, it ended. The staff returned to their desks, some treading on my hands in the process, a couple remaining to help my Boss dismount from my back.
I didn't dare look up as I was so embarrassed at how I'd just been used. I expected her to take at least some time to see if I was ok or even to just explain what had just happened but all she said was 'Back to Work Gora!' before turning on the heels of her knee length black boots and striding off towards her office. I picked myself up with some difficulty and was about to sidle off to the toilets without catching anyone’s eye when I heard one of the women say 'aren't you going to clean up that spill then?' I stared up at her but she had already finished talking to me and was getting ready for lunch. I got my cloth, got back down on my hands and knees and started to scrub at the coffee stain, now ground in by multiple pairs of boots and shoes.

The Gora pt3

5 o clock arrived without anything more eventful happening but my head was still in a whirl. I’d arrived back from lunch expecting comments or at least sniggers from the women but they all more or less ignored me, just talking amongst themselves in Hindi as usual.
I put on my coat and headed for the door, thankful for the weekend soon to come. I was so keen to leave the building that I nearly bumped straight into Bally, my Boss. ‘A word before you go’ she said, ushering me into her office. I entered and in my nervousness, bumped straight into her desk, knocking her travel bag flying and scattering most of the contents.
‘Stupid Gora’ she snapped, ‘pick those up’ but I was already down on my hands and knees scrabbling for her things. Suddenly her mobile rang, I heard her answer it and begin to talk in English and then I felt her weight upon my back as she proceeded to sit on me and carry on her conversation. Once again I didn’t know just how to react, but I thought being as she is my boss I’d better just go along with this for the meantime. She adjusted herself on my back, getting comfortable, carrying on talking as one of her knee length black boots settled it’s heel onto the top of my hand. She appeared to be talking to a Girl Friend; her words were now mostly Hindi with some English, interspersed with fits of laughter. I caught some random words, ‘It’s begun, under control, like putty, November 5th’, but I couldn’t make any sense out of them.
Instead I concentrated on her beautiful black boot, the way it hugged the shape of her leg, the power of the arched heel and the cruelty of the heel tip, worn down to the metal, now digging painfully into my hand.
I was so lost in my reverie that Bally surprised me when she got up off my back. ‘Come on Gora, pick those things up I said didn’t I?’ Yes Bally I said meekly picking up lip gloss and eyeliner. ‘Who gave you permission to use my first name Gora?’ she snarled. I said that all the other women did so I thought it would be alright. ‘No it is not, ‘alright’. My name is Miss Sahota, I expect to hear you calling it from now on, do you understand Gora?’ Yes Miss Sahota I muttered slowly rising to my feet and placing the bag back on her desk, hoping she wouldn’t noticed the unforeseen lump in my trousers. ‘Right, Get out and don’t forget you are in tomorrow, 8.30 sharp’
But it’s Saturday, I exclaimed, and I’m off to Manchester to watch Birmingham City away, I’ve already shelled out on tickets and everything.
‘You are required to work the occasional weekend at the company’s discretion and we need you in tomorrow’ she stated. But I have a lift sorted, It’s too late to cancel, I will…..’It’s your choice Gora, be here at 8.30 on the dot or find alternate employment.' With that she turned on her heels, picked up her bag and strode out. I watched her climb into her silver BMW 3 series, make another quick call then speed off into the weak late Autumn evening sun, I was gutted, I so wanted to go to the game but I knew deep down I would be standing on the steps of this building tomorrow morning
Jan 1, 2010
The Gora Part 4

8.30 Saturday arrived and found me waiting in the cold morning air outside the office doors for my boss, Bally to arrive. I’d got a lot of stick from the lads for not going to Manchester and I’d ended up the better part of £100 out of pocket to boot.
I had plenty of time to think about this as Bally didn’t arrive until 9.30, an hour late. By that time I was cold and fed up and was going to tell her exactly what I thought of her keeping me waiting. However she just stepped out of her BMW, sunglasses on her head, talking on her mobile in Hindi, & totally ignored me! Another Indian woman stepped out of the passenger side, I recognised her as a co-worker, Sabina, she was dressed in jeans and a black jacket with black stilettos just showing off a patch of her smooth foot.
She without a word, walked past me and opened up, shutting off the alarm then walked back to the car opening the boot. She motioned to me to walk over to her and handed me several large black bags to carry then walked over to Bally who was still talking on the phone.
Bally then clicked her fingers in my direction and they both started to walk up the stairs with me, carrying their bags, behind them.

We reached Bally’s office and the both sat down facing me as I placed their bags on her desk. ‘Nice to see you made the right decision’ said Bally, ‘I’ve been here since half eight’ I moaned, ‘I do admire your enthusiasm but I clearly stated 9.30 when we spoke yesterday’ she said. I started to retort but she just turned to Sabina and began to talk in Hindi to her leaving me standing their listening but not understanding, save for the laughs which were frequent.
Eventually she turned to me and handed me the keys to her BMW. ‘Great’ I thought, I’ll actually get to drive her car, this Saturday working has obviously moved me up a level in her estimation….and then it came…’You will find a bucket and sponge in the cleaners cupboard, make sure it’s sparkling’ She then dismissed me with a wave of her hand ‘Hold on’ I said, ‘I thought I was here to work’ ‘Who do you work for?’ she replied, ‘er, you Miss Sahota’ I murmured, ‘Louder’ she said sharply, ‘You Miss Sahota’ I said, head bowed, ‘That’s right, ME, now go and be a good little Gora and do the job you’ve been told to do’ I turned and walked towards the stairs, ‘Gora, wait by the car when you have finished, I want to inspect your cleaning skills, and I hope for your sake they are better than your office skills’ with that they both burst out laughing as I trudged downstairs, my heart sinking, wondering just what I’d done to deserve this treatment.

To cut a long story short I finished washing her car and waited for about 20 minutes in the cold until I finally heard the click of stilettos coming down the stairs. However instead of Bally it was Sabina who appeared and walked purposefully towards me. I didn’t really know Sabina; I’d seen her around the office and had made her a cup of tea a few times but not much more. I couldn’t help but appreciate how good she looked as she walked around the car, bending down slightly to inspect the wheel rims. ‘Here’ she said curtly ‘this is not done’ pointing out a tiny patch of dirt I had missed with the point of her shoe, ‘and here, and here’ she continued, pointing again with the tip of her black stiletto. She was pointing at the underside of the bumper but I couldn’t see anything there. ‘Get down and look properly’ she said with an almost disinterested tone in her voice. I got right down on my knees, almost with my head on the floor to see for myself. Sabina stuck the point of her shoe inches from my face and Barked ‘There Gora, are you blind?’ To be honest the only mark there was the one she had just made with the tip of her shoe but I said I could see it anyway as I could sense she was losing patience with me. She then in one motion, wiped the tip of her shoe on my cheek , turned and began walking away, calling out ‘Do it again Gora, and make a good job of it this time’ as she began clicking her stilettoed way up the stairs.

I rubbed the dirt from my cheek and wondered what I should do, this was going too far, we had no union and there was no-one I could really speak to who I worked with. I resolved that I would clean the car again so as not to give Bally, (must remember it’s Miss Sahota) any reason to discipline me but that I would have it out with her and resign if necessary.

The Gora Part 5

I finished the car, there was no doubt it was absolutely sparkling clean now, put the bucket and sponge away and strode up the stairs. I walked into her office but it was empty. I heard voices coming from the main office and headed in there to find my Boss and Sabina gathered around my computer terminal.
Bally –I mean Miss Sahota looked up surprised, ‘Did I say you could come upstairs..No I didn’t, I just hope your work is finished and that’s why you are bothering me’ ‘I’ve had enough of this’ I said, ‘I want to be treated like a decent human being or I am leaving this firm right now’ I felt quite pleased with myself, I’d put it on the line, given it to them straight, they won’t treat me like dirt any more’
Miss Sahota looked furious, the only time I’d seen her look like that was when someone had pranged her beamer on the way in to work.
‘Come here you little shit’ she barked, take a look at your computer screen. I walked round a little afraid of her and looked at my screen. She and Sabina had opened up my browsing history from the past 2 weeks.

I looked down it and was shocked to see ‘mistress destiny’s femdom forum, High heel Heidi, foot fetish attitude, femdom city and even a scat site amongst many others. I was horrified and my face showed it going bright beetroot red. The thing is, I had been on a few of those sites at home, on my own pc, and I admit I found the sites a little interesting but I had NEVER been on them in works time. ‘How did those get there’ I spluttered, I’ve never seen those sites before in my life’ The trouble is it wasn’t true and this showed through on my face.
‘How else did these disgusting sites come to be in your history, more or less every day you perverted little creep’ said Miss Sahota clicking on a file marked ‘data schedules’.
‘More filth’ chimed in Sabina as instead of the number crunching spreadsheets I knew to be in that file, images of women in heels treading all over prostrate males splashed onto the screen in a slideshow of that had the end of my job written all over it.
Ms Sahota stopped the slideshow on one particular picture of an Indian businesswoman using a naked male to clean her shoes. ‘This will not be tolerated, get your things together and get out, you’re fired with immediate effect.'
‘Please, I know nothing about those sites, those images, someone must have used my pc while I was at lunch.’ I pleaded, ‘LEAVE’ barked Miss Sahota, ‘and don’t think this won’t be mentioned in your reference, I’ll be surprised if you can get a job as a toilet cleaner after this’ ‘He’d probably like that’ sneered Sabina, obviously enjoying every minute of this.

I felt sick knowing what she had said was right, I’d never get a decent job again with the reference Miss Sahota would write, there was nothing for it but to plead. I threw myself on my knees and begged to be allowed to stay, promising to work longer hours, with less breaks and harder than ever, I was in the middle of promising to clean Miss Sahota’s car every Saturday when I heard Sabina say ‘I suppose the Gora could be useful’ ‘Hmm, maybe you’re right Sabina, Gora, how much do you want this job?’ As much as was humanly possible I gushed sensing a slight glimmer of hope. ‘I want proof not words, insect, Sabina, do you think you could bear to have this disgusting creature touch your shoe? ‘eeeew, if I must Bally, but just the soles’
‘You heard her Gora, lick the dirt from Sabina soles just like in the pictures you sooo love, and if you lick well enough I may consider keeping you on’
Sabina placed her elegant black stilettos on a chair and leant back, both women watching me intently, I felt this big but what choice did I have, I’d idly imagined I might be a little excited if this ever happened to me, but now it was all I could feel was fear and humiliation. I licked for my very life, swallowing every last particle of dirt and dust from Sabina’s soles as the two women sat laughing and joking in Hindi.

‘ENOUGH’ barked Miss Sahota, ‘come here and sign this’ she said pointing at a manuscript on the desk. DON’T read, just sign by the crosses idiot’ she barked. I signed by every cross then Miss Sahota and Sabina each signed on various pages. ‘Do you know what that is Gora?’ teased Miss Sahota, ‘It’s your new contract, your previous role is now dissolved and you are now re-employed as from today on new pay and conditions’.
I could only kneel, mouth open in surprise as she carried on. ‘You are now on minimum wage, contracted to the maximum hours permissible under law with opt outs from your holiday entitlement, which you have so nicely signed over to Sabina here, opt outs from any pension, and from any bonuses. You have also signed my new disciplinary procedure which exists just for you and incurs you making up hours, and paying fines for all manner of indiscretions, such as not washing the staff cups up properly, failing to answer a phone after 2 rings and so on.
Your new role within the company is Staff Dogsbody, see, it says so here’ she smiled pointing to the contract. You will come in when I say and leave when I say and will continue to be my employee 24 hours a day. You will now do the job of the cleaner first thing every morning and last thing at night, you will work weekends at my, or if I don’t require you, any other staff members say so.
You will be at the beck and call of everyone working here and will carry out your instructions without any questioning or attitude.
If you fail to do as you’re told ever, you will be fired, and I will personally tell the brothers of all the women who work here that you were fired for sexual harassment of their sisters. I wouldn’t fancy your chances when that got out.’

‘Now Gora, get the mop and bucket and go and clean the ladies toilets’
I rose from my knees in a daze, and received a swift kick to the backside, ‘Move it lazy Gora,’ snapped Sabina, my soles will need cleaning again before I leave’ she said both of them bursting out laughing in the process.

I began cleaning the toilets, my mind refusing to make sense of my predicament, all I knew is I had a deep unsettling feeling that things had changed forever, and not for the better.

The Gora part 6
I finished cleaning the ladies toilets, almost on autopilot, trying to make sense of my new predicament. Was it worth staying with a job where I would be mistreated and taken advantage of, what about my life outside and my mates? I don’t know if I could face the looks and questioning I’d get when I told them I couldn’t be sure of meeting up on a weekend again.
On the other hand I had no reason to doubt that Miss Sahota meant exactly what she said, to leave now would mean poverty, possible homelessness and probably some severe beatings too, I didn’t want to leave this town, dammit, I’d just have to make a go of it, how bad could it be?

I finished up, washed out the mop and bucket and walked back to the office.
Miss Sahota and Sabina were in her office; I knocked on the door and waited.
There was no reply. After about 10 minutes I knocked again. The door opened, an arm reached out and I felt a hard slap around my face.
It was Sabina. ‘You will wait until the door is answered, it may take 1 minute, it may take 1 hour. Do you understand Gora?’
Yes I do I said trying to be meek. ‘Stop pulling a ridiculous face and follow me’ she said striding off.
I followed her to the women’s toilets; she strode in and sat down on a comfy chair. (One of a few in the women’s toilets which always seem to be so much more luxurious than the mens!)
‘Floors still wet’ she said looking straight at me, ‘you will be expected to dry it in future’ Yes, I’m sorry, I will…I began…’Call me Miss in future and shut up boy’ she said, lazily cutting across my speech.
‘Now I did say I wanted my soles cleaning again, get to it’
Yes miss I said kneeling before her, beginning to tongue lick the newly accumulated dirt from her elegant shoes. ‘EEEEEW that’s enough Gora, it’s just too disgusting, licking another person’s shoes, even for you.

This bathroom needs doing again, I want it done in an hour, is that clear Gora?’
I mumbled yes and got the mop and bucket out the store, and when I returned a whooping and laughing Sabina was turning all the taps on with the plugs in, stuffing toilet rolls down the toilets and flushing them until she was in hysterics and water was beginning to overflow everywhere.
‘I’ve always wanted to do that’ she said flushed and beaming.
NOW CLEAR THE FUCKING LOT UP!’ she shouted and whirled away leaving me to try and stem a tide of overflowing sinks and toilet water.

Ok, it’s not perfect but I’m still getting paid I thought as I scrambled to carry out her instructions, maybe I could get used to being talked to and treated this way, I’ve managed it so far.
Well, I cleaned up and dried up, it must have taken me about 2 hours but no-one came to check on me.
I walked back up to the office and found it all unlit and empty except for one lamp illuminating a solitary desk. Under it was a note.
‘Gora (your new name – get used to it) we have long since gone home. The office is locked and alarmed so you will be spending the rest of the weekend here. A copy of your new contract is on this desk…I suggest you study it well.
See you Monday – Miss Sahota - from now on THE most important thing in your pathetic life
Likes: bdb844lg
Jan 1, 2010
  1. The Gora Part 7

    I couldn’t leave, I had the rest of the tonight and Sunday stuck in this office so I decided to have a proper look at my ‘new’ contract.

    Page 2
    Hours per week – minimum 60 per week. I had also signed an opt out of the European working time directive and a form declaring that I was always available for unscheduled overtime when required including both weekdays and weekends at any location necessary.

    Page 4
    Your hours of work & duties;
    ‘You will commence work at 6.30am. You will be required to clean the office, all adjacent offices, toilets, coffee areas, stairwells, corridors and outside smoking areas and any other area as and when required.
    You will clean all floors and surfaces to a satisfactory standard.
    The penalties for not reaching this standard are explained in section IV of this contract’.

    ‘At 8.45 you will commence your duties as office Junior. These duties are changeable and will be posted on the office noticeboard but generally are to include; Tea & coffee making, general admin, filing, cleaning, errands, computer data entry, phone answering, fetching & carrying as required.’

    4.45pm until 6.30pm Cleaning duties. (As 6.30 until 8.45 duties)

    Breaks; 15 minutes morning, 15 minutes afternoon (paid) to be taken at the discretion of Miss Sahota.
    Lunch; 1 Hour. 12.00 until 1.00.
    You are now the nominated lunch provider for the office. This will involve you taking the lunch orders for all the office staff, fetching that order from various shops in time for the 12.45 office lunchbreak.
    Penalties for failing in this duty are detailed in section IV.
    This is a voluntary role.

    Minimum wage £5.35 per hour.

    Beneath that were another couple of sheets that I’d had to sign:


    Xmas/New Year fund - Towards for the office Xmas/New Year party, meal and night out (women only). Cost £25 per week. Membership to date - 1

    Holiday fund – Fund to enable female office staff to save towards their annual holidays. Cost £25 per week. Membership to date – 1

    Lunch Pot – Communal Lunch fund to pay for all the office staffs’ lunch on a daily basis. Cost £50 per week. Membership to date - 1

    Holiday Entitlements;

    25 days per year (paid)

    ‘You have chosen to donate your holiday entitlement to the staff holiday pool for the next 5 years. You will be expected to attend work during such times’.


    ‘You have chosen to place your pensionable earnings under full control of Miss N. Sahota commencing immediately’.

    I was screwed. Well and truly.
    Did I dare read on? What else did I have to do stuck in the office through the night. I flicked through several pages of legalese jargon ‘till I reached the section marked ‘Disciplinary Code’

    ‘The aforementioned Mr Insect (I know crap last name but it was all I had) agrees to the following code which will apply from this date on and to Mr Insect only.

    Lateness - £25 per minute fine
    Tardiness - £25 instant fine
    Failure of care when carrying out duties - £5 min, £50 max (As judged by any member of staff)
    Lack of respect shown to any staff member - £5 min, £50 max (As judged by any member of staff)
    Insubordination shown to any member of staff - £100 and immediate suspension.

    I couldn’t read another sentence, sentence being the apt word as that was what my life was becoming.
    It was time to sleep. I curled up as best I could under a desk, pulling a seat cushion onto the floor as a pillow and draping my coat over myself.
    I must have drifted off because when the noise of women laughing and shouting woke me the office clock said 2.30am.
    It took me a while to realise the noises were getting louder, the women were clattering up the office stairs!
    I started to sweat as I curled nervously into a ball under the desk and hoped not to be noticed.

  2. The Gora pt 8

    Thanks all for your kind words............

    I take up this story where I left it, my thoughts are in the first person ‘cos it still seems like it’s happening to me right now………………..

    Oh Christ, they are coming into the office, shit! I hope they don’t find me..I’ll curl up as much as I can but it’s a bloody small desk to be under….calm down else they’ll hear your heart beating out of your chest…..come on, keep it together insect……
    They came into the office, laughing, stumbling, pissed up and raucous, I didn’t recognise the voices but ….I couldn’t be sure. The lights went on…no, shit, I’ll be found…no, just the one set of lights, I was still in shadow and still…safe?

    The women walked down through the office, I watched as the stiletto heels of I think, 3 women walked past my desk then….A crash above me as my shelter moved at least a foot backwards as a laughing and cursing girl drunkenly sat on top. I’m exposed here, should I move..should I….her feet swung over and came down on the back of my hand. Surely this was it, I was discovered. I waited, not breathing until the pain in my chest became too much. They were laughing, chatting, smoking, but not noticing me. My luck was in.

    My luck then left me. The heel that had been resting lightly on the back of my hand rose up, then came down sharply, resting right on my head, millimetres from my eye. It was then joined by the other heel, pressing into my fleshy cheek with a force that almost caused me to cry out.
    I had to remain still, perfectly still…..
    The women were talking about men, relationships, who they fancied, who they had given more than a passing smile in the corridor, I recognised a few of the voices as some of my Indian office colleagues but others were new to me, sounding white, black, local? It was so hard to tell stuck under a desk with a heel in my cheek and another heel millimetres from my eye.

    All I could see was the blurred outline of the heel, black, slender, powerful, powerful enough to rob me of my sight if it moved, even slightly.
    I heard the woman sitting above me on the desk, she was getting emotional, talking about an ex who had done the dirty on her, getting more agitated and upset as she spoke. All at once the heel by my eye was gone, and the heel in my cheek dug in even more, then…..relief, she had crossed her legs, my face was free of heels, and I was still in my hidey hole.

    She lit a cigarette and smoked it in between sobs and coughs….she was drunk and upset, the ex boyfriend talk had bought it all back, so it was only natural her friends came and sat next to her to comfort her as only women can and do.
    This is where it got dodgy for me.

    Oh my god, there are more women sitting on the desk, it’s only small, jesus I think there’s 2 of them………A heel came down right in my eye just the same time as my breathing was cut off by a sole right on my windpipe, another shoe on my face and one on my forehead….I felt like a doormat with only minutes to live…………I couldn’t blink, all I could see was a distorted metal pin on the end of a scuffed, thin spike heel, my eyelid could not physically move, and I didn’t dare try too hard because in my frantic frame of mind I thought she would feel my eyelid against her heel and press down …press down destroying my eye…I was having trouble breathing, the heel above my eye seemed to be sinking, lowered, my face hurt like hell, then, out of my only eye WITHOUT a heel in it, I saw a bright orange light above me, flicking around like a speed crazed UFO. It suddenly dropped towards me and landed straight on my forehead…aaaaaaaaaaaagh!! It was a cigarette. A stiletto shoe sole, by now I had lost track of which stiletto symbol of pain was where, immediately loomed down and crushed the burning tip of the cigarette into my skin, ash scattered into my free eye, I couldn’t see, only feel the pain.

    I’m lying here, this is agony, they are resting their shoes on me and grinding their cigarettes out on me because they don’t know I’m here….to them I’m just a part of the floor, to me, this is unrelenting agony, please, please let them leave, let them get a cab and go home to bed, I deserve it, I’ve done my best to keep still and take what I’ve been given…..please let it end……….

    The stiletto heel jabbed itself into my eye and I let out a shriek, this is it I thought, humiliation, police on their way, oh the embarrassment………..

  3. The Gora part 9

    WHAT THE FUCK!!! I was hauled to my feet amidst screams and shouts then pressed hard against the desk by a woman with an angry tear stained face and another woman, startled and angry in equal measures.
    ‘What the fuck are you doing down there you little bastard’ ….’Were you listening to everything we said?’ interrupted the tearstained woman’ No……WACK she slapped me round the face, and then WACK again. I was seeing stars when I heard a familiar voice, ‘wait, he works here, he’s the office dogsbody’
    The women backed off me and I slumped to my knees. I recognised the woman, she worked on the desk to my left, by the window, Sarita was it? Maybe, well at least she knows who I am I thought.
    ‘Well what’s he doing here, spying then?’ clamoured the other girls….’Look, I can explain I began..’QUIET! You don’t speak unless we say so’
    ‘He’s Miss Sahotas little pet, she’s training him to be the office fetchboy, a little white Gora to do what we tell him to’.
    She carried on outlining my new situation to her by now enraptured audience, I have to admit my mouth was hanging open too, hearing her tell total strangers that I was nothing more than an indentured servant, less than human, to be treated with absolute disdain and disregard brought home my new situation in full. I felt queasy and light headed, total lack of control over my life for the first time ever….’CRAWL HERE BOY’ Sarita shouted interrupting my thoughts..I crawled towards her, my face reddening as I felt the eyes of unknown women staring down at me.

    Sarita placed her self in a swivel office chair and stared down at me. ‘Louise, you finished with that cigarette?...give it here then’
    ‘Keep your eyes on my shoes Gora’ she murmured as she began to swirl the cigarette round my face, going closer at every swing. I did as I was told, focusing on her black, patent leather heels, mud spattered toes, arching into a 3 inch heel that had traces of grass and more mud up the side. I tried to focus on her dark nylon stockings encompassing her slender but powerful ankle but the cigarette was getting dangerously close.
    It dropped to the floor, swift and final, like a shooting star. Sarita leant over it and slowly, and I have to say, even from the corner of my eye, very erotically, slowly let loose a long ribbon of drool that fell and missed the glowing cigarette end by millimetres. ‘Let me try’ piped up Louise ‘and me’ and suddenly there was saliva flying from many giggling mouths, some of it even hitting the cigarette.
    ‘You, Boy, this floor is filthy, Miss Sahota would kill you if she saw that, lick it up there’s a good doggy.’ I heard some gasps of ‘noo’ ‘he wouldn’t’ then Sarita barked ‘wait’ then lowered the sole of her shoe on to the now saliva covered cigarette and ground it into the floor. As she raised her now soiled sole she lifted my chin with the tip of her shoe until my eyes met hers. She stared, hard and deep into my eyes, grinned malevolently and said, ‘Get down there and lick the floor where you belong Fido’ I hunched down and started to lick up all the spit and gunk, tasting of defeat and humiliation, a taste I would need to get used to.
    ‘Don’t forget the cigarette’ came the cry as I slurped the foul tasting butt into my mouth and swallowed hard. ‘Now the sole of my shoe spitboy’ Sarita lifted her sole to my face and I began licking. The women started laughing and joking, calling me a twat, a wanker and much more, it was obvious I had sunk right down in their estimation..floor level would sum it up. ‘Get used to this Gora’ laughed Sarita as she kicked me square in the face, this is the first day of the rest of your life now’.

  4. The Gora Pt 10

    Sarinas shoes suddenly disappeared from my face giving me some relief from my ‘ordeal’. ‘Actually I have something to admit to you all, you know this worm here’ she said kicking me in the head, ‘well I knew he was going to be here, Ranjit (Miss Sahota to you and I) is my aunt, she told me about her ‘arrangement’ with her new little pet’.

    The girls went silent for a minute and then began haranguing Sarina with ‘I can’t believe you knew he was here’ and ‘why didn’t you tell us’.
    These quickly turned into talk of how badly they could treat me now it was ‘sanctioned’ ‘he’s legally here isn’t he? We could run him over if we wanted to’, I heard a very drunk girl slurring. Believe me when I heard Sarina say ‘It’s getting late and I’m ready to call it a day, spitboy or no spitboy I was very relieved, I was starting to fear for my life for a while there.

    The girls gathered their belongings and headed towards the door, each grinding their shoes into my body as a goodbye present. ‘Bye worm’, see you later fuckface’
    The doors closed and it became silent.
    I curled up best I could to try and lick my wounds, my face and body aching from the girl’s attentions.

    Then I heard a noise, heels clicking up the stairs, no it couldn’t be, then the door opened…..I heard the noise of fingers clicking, ‘here doggy doggy’ It was Sarina. ‘GET HERE NOW ‘she shouted and I needed no further encouragement. I crawled towards her leather heels not daring to look up.
    ‘Follow me on your knees Gora’ she barked as she started towards the stair case. I followed as best I could but she had been waiting a few minutes by the time I reached the bottom, I knelt in front of her tapping foot. Suddenly she took one step forwards and placed both heels on the top of my hands, then leaning back, she cast her full weight onto her heels. Pain shot through me lie a bolt, it felt like her heels would penetrate my hand, all this time she was chuckling to herself. Then she clicked her fingers and walked towards the exit. ‘Car park now’ I did as I was told.

    She set the alarm then walked (me still on my knees following) round to the far side of the car park, an alcove not visible from the street or the rest of the car park. ‘Stand up’ she ordered, I did as she said finding it difficult to stand upright after all this time. ‘Look up’ she demanded and as I did this she kicked me squarely in the balls. I double up in pain as she walked towards a large black Nissan 4x4 laughing loudly. She started the engine and drove it towards me, stopping only as the front wheels nearly reached my quivering leg. ‘You, Gora, are going to have the privilege of driving an Indian Princess to her mansion, so stop lying around like the slug you are and get in and drive, I’m way over the limit’.

    I did as she said and pretty soon we had reached her house, a nice detached property in a secluded leafy suburb. If I had thought my luck was changing I was in for a shock.
    ‘OUT’ she commanded and I got out and on autopilot sank to my knees. She proceeded to open her large double garage doors and drive her 4x4 inside. I crawled in after her and was just in time to see her slender and elegant frame climb down from the car.
    She looked at me and clicked her fingers, was I too low now for her even to speak to me? She reached the front of the car and I crawled round to her feet, my head between her heels and the tyres. ‘Put you head there’ she ordered pointing at the front driver’s side tyre. ‘You can’t be serious’ I exclaimed, a sharp kick in the mouth assuring me that she was. I rested my head against the tyre as she proceeded to make sure my face was against the tread, my head on its side so I could almost kiss the rubber. Then she did something that really scared me. She got into her 4x4 and started the engine.
    This was it I thought, death by face squashing, I never imagined it would finish like this. She revved the engine, enjoying the massive power she had over me then started inching the car forwards. I felt it first on my nose, and as that slowly flattened down to nothing under the huge weight of the vehicles tyre my cheek and mouth started to be sucked under and crushed into the concrete garage floor.
    Then it stopped.
    I heard Sarina get out and heard her walking towards me. Never have I been so glad to see a pair of high heels.
    ‘You still alive then? Have a good nights sleep flatface and I’ll see you in the morning’ With that she turned the lights out, walked out and shut the connecting door leaving me in the pitch black with the front tyre of her 4x4 crushing down onto my face. On the one hand I was grateful she hadn’t killed me but on the other…well she did seem to be a psycho and I was trapped here with her.
    The pain ground down into my face, I couldn’t move but at least I could breathe. I wasn’t counting on any sleep tonight
Likes: bdb844lg
Jan 1, 2010
The Gora Pt 11

I don’t think I got much sleep that night, I fact I know I didn’t, half my face trapped under Her 4 x 4 front tyre, freezing cold and in pain. It was a long, long night.
Morning arrived, the part of the garage that my eyes in my now swollen face could make out had got light, I studied the cobwebs and the drain as hard as I could just to prevent myself from screaming out loud. As much as I was in pain, I was scared of Sarina more.
I eventually heard the sound I had been dreading and longing for, the clicking of Her heels getting louder. The door opened and I heard the heels step onto the garage floor. At last I thought, release from Her torture. Instead I heard the car alarm beep off and the door open and shut as she climbed into her car. The engine started…surely not..she can’t have forgotten about me down here…My heart was racing, if she drives forward I’m a dead man, my face, my head, already more compressed by her weight in the vehicle, swollen from a night under her tyre was about to be crushed without her even noticing.

The 4 x 4 revved its engine and drove back, its tyre peeling away from my face.
Through the throbbing in my ears I barely heard Sarina get out and walk towards me, I could hardly see through my tears of sheer relief as she lifted my head up by my hair and inspected the damage she had done.
“Gora, get cleaned up, and get some food. I’ll be back in about 3 hours, You’ll be needed then so be ready on your knees at the front door understand?”
“Yes Miss Sarina, thank you Miss Sarina” I slobbered, so grateful for her small mercies.
She left without a second glance, garage door shutting behind her. I made my way into the kitchen, there was a bowl with cereal already in and milk beside it. I devoured it ravenously then ran a hot bath.
As I lay soaking, still in pain but basking in this unexpected luxury I began to think that maybe Sarina had had her fun and would go easy on me now, hell even let me go…what was that about needing me later, maybe when…...I drifted off into a deep deep sleep, dead to the world.

SMACK!! I awoke with a start, it was….before I had chance to think she slapped me again..”up, up Gora bitch, lazy Gora bitch got work to do NOW!!” she slapped me again as I struggled to get out of the slippery bath.
“KNEES” she commanded, as I did as I was told she lifted my head up with the tip of her boot, “God you ARE ugly, were you always like that or did Sarina do it running you over? Never mind we’ve, or should I say You’ve got work to do. NOW FOLLOW” I crawled after her, naked and still groggy from my sleep. I couldn’t have been in the bath that long as the water was still luke warm, wasn’t I sposed to wait by the door, and who was this girl? She looked and sounded about 18 – 19, what did she want me to do?

I crawled after her, concentrating on her knee high black leather boots, observing how her dark grey trousers were tucked into the top of her boots, how shapely her legs were as she walked in front of me, and noting the ingrained dust and dirt on her rising and falling soles and 2” heels.
By the time she opened the French windows and stepped through into the garden I had a full blown erection.

Just at that point she chose to look round. Stopping sharply she muttered something in Hindu . it sounded like a curse..she strode straight over to me, her face a mask of anger. The kicks reigned in, I tried to curl into a ball but her boots got past my fragile defences, I felt like a dog being beaten by its owner.
The beating stopped as suddenly as it had started and without a word she clicked her fingers and began to stride forward. I followed as best I could, no more erection but plenty of fresh bruises.

She stopped and motioned me onto my knees. There was a huge white marquee with tables round the edge and some large rubber matting in the centre.
“Right Gora, Sarina is at the wedding so I have to miss out and sort the family slave out, typical. There’s a spade over there, roll up the matting and dig a hole slightly bigger than yourself, kinda like a grave” she started chuckling at this last remark although It sent shivers down my spine. Did they intend to kill me? And since when did I become the family slave?
“Before you do that shitface, I want a little reward for all my troubles so follow me. I followed her to a table and chairs and kneeled as she sat down.
“Ok you white piece of Gora shit, lick the mud off my boots, it’s all you’re good for isn’t it…..ISN’T IT?” “Yes Mistress” I gabbled as I began to lick and half chew the clumps of mud that had accumulated on her boot soles during her walk across the garden. It was a mark of how much I had sunk that I was now eating mud from boots that had not long earlier kicked me to a pulp, boots that were worn on the feet of a beautiful teenager who I didn’t even know, had never even seen before, but whom apparently had a share in ownership of me.

I lapped and sucked until I had got all the mud off and had made inroads into the ground in grime and grit in the tread of her sole.
With one swift movement she drew her boot back and without looking at my work shoved her heel into my mouth, gouging a deep cut and chipping a tooth in the process. “Clean it you moron, you really are a shit slave, Sarina’s too lenient on you, if I had you full time you’d really know about it, you’d never see the light of day again, in fact I’d work you till you dropped, I’d hire you out too, my friends..anyone who’d pay.” As I sucked and chewed the encrusted dirt and mud from her heels she continued to muse to herself all the ways she would use & abuse me. “Shit, we’ve gotta get moving..up shitface, get digging”
I rolled up the mats, got the spade and began to dig at the spot she pointed at.
She sat down, lit a cigarette and made several phone calls as I dug what could be my own grave.
She was very beautiful I thought whilst I dug, the classic Indian black hair, flawless features, dark intense eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. A superb figure, Indian women were natures Goddesses, it felt almost natural to bow down and defer to them, they also had a cruel arrogant streak that showed in their handling of me, their slave, but it somehow made their control over me seem even more normal, as if I was born to serve Indian women, and they were destined to own me.
“yeah, he’s about done, don’t worry, he’ll be ready for the guests…..” this snippet of Her phone conversation snapped me out of my thoughts. The rest was in Hindu which I couldn’t understand but I Knew she was coming towards me.

She inspected my work, touching the edge of the me shaped hole with the toe of Her freshly cleaned boot. “That will have to do, get me that bubble wrap over by the tables now” She kicked me as I began to move, nearly sending me sprawling…”MOVE IT we don’t have long”
I stumbled back with arms full of bubble wrap, making 2 trips in all.
“Lie down in your hole like a fuckin worm” she commanded, giggling at her ‘joke’. I lay down and for the next ten minutes she nudged me into position, guiding me with her pointed boot toe. “Perfect, now DO NOT MOVE worm”
She began to shove bubble wrap into all the gaps by my head, between my legs, by my feet until I was a very secure fit in this hole of mine. It wasn’t until she sneered “bye bye, have fun, see you in ooh...about 6 hours” that it dawned on me what was happening. I was in a grave size hole, but only a couple of feet deep. As I was lying now, I was more or less level with the grass floor under the marquee, the bubble wrap had levelled off all the gaps in the whole leaving me as part of the floor! I panicked as Her face disappeared and the black rubber mat rolled over me leaving just total blackness.
I was to be part of the ground at an Indian Wedding reception, how could anyone think of such cruelties, it had to be Sarina. I prayed that I would last the day, and that I wasn’t part of the dance floor

The Gora Pt 12

I awoke some time later feeling somewhat strange, a dull throbbing sensation took over my chest whilst my vision seemed dull and patchy....It was then that the realisation that I was buried in the ground, part of the floor dawned over me. For a brief second I started to struggle, to buck and tear at the covering above before a sharp pain exploded on my chest. It was then I realised the pressure on my chest was caused by the weight of someone standing on me, and the sharp pain meant they had felt me move and had stomped down on me as a warning. I looked up trying to see who was standing on me but could only see the outline of a shapely black leather ankle boot and nothing more. The weight on my chest shifted and changed then I heard a sharp whispering: ‘STAY FUCKIN STILL YOU PATHETIC GORA, IF ANY OF OUR GUESTS REALISE YOU ARE UNDER OUR FEET I WILL PERSONALLY TURN YOU INTO A WORTHLESS FAKIR DESTINED TO DIE ON THE STREETS....’ It was Sarina, it had to be, no one else had that same cutting, authoritive tone. I lay there , not daring to move as she stood on me, full weight, I could feel her spikes pressing into my flesh, her weight bore down into me pressing me further into the soil, luckily for me the covering & bubble wrap gave me some protection but how long would it last?
The voices grew louder and the music started but for a while I felt nothing, just the occasional footstep over me, but as the day wore on the giggles got louder until one particular song (I heard the name Chote Chote Bhayon shouted gleefully) announced the mass arrival of dancing feet above me. The pressure on me was huge, I looked up and cold only see glimpses of twirling ankles, flashes of toes before those feet pounded down above me and into me. My face was getting mashed, especially the bridge of my nose and my lips, then the pain shifted to my stomach, then it was everywhere....god, could I survive this? However it was to get worse, much worse. The dancers had been barefoot but now they were wearing their shoes and boots, each with deadly heels which stabbed and crushed and penetrated right through the covering above me into my very flesh until I was sure I could stand no more. I remember thinking Sarina must want me dead and has got her friends to stomp me to death, just before I passed out into welcome oblivion.................
My oblivion wasn’t to last long however as liquid splashed over my face and bought me round again. It was the teenage girl who had placed me in this pit under the carpet to be a human floor. ‘OK’ she shouted then I heard the music start playing again. Just as I started to recognise the tune I noticed the young Mistress slipping on some extremely spikey heeled ankle boots which were soon joined by two more pairs of shoes, one pair very pointy and looking like crocodile skin, the other animal print. Just as they stepped onto me I heard the words
‘I wanna hold em' like they do in texas, please
fold em', let em' hit me, raise it, baby stay with me (I love it)’
It was Lady Gaga – Poker Face and the 3 girls were now stepping all over my prostrate body dancing to the tune. It was agony for me but they didn’t care, they were even singing along to the song oblivious to my suffering under their heels. My skin was getting pretty mashed up now as the girls were a little worse for wear & were not watching where they put their feet, their heels dug directly into my skin leaving deep red weals , a mark of their utter & total dominance over me.
Then the chorus came, you know, the Poker Face bit, but to my horror instead of singing that they all sung together, ‘poke his face’ and proceeded d to stab me in my face with their heels. One of her friends, tall & stunning and really enjoying herself stood on my face for the rest of the song, dancing & singing, the pain was intense but I knew better than to expect any mercy – I was just their Gora toy, a plaything for them to amuse themselves with.
The track finally finished, the girls stepped off me and gratefully I sank back into the darkness...

When I awoke I could hardly move. My skin was torn and scraped with bloody heel marks all over, my muscles screamed in agony when I tried to move them. It was all I could do to lift my head.
‘It’s awake’ a female voice casually announced then I felt myself being grabbed by the hair and a cup of water was thrust to my mouth. ‘Drink Gora’ the voice said, and I did, gratefully.
The next few days were spent slipping in an out of consciousness before I was fully able to take in my surroundings. I was in a cold dank room with concrete walls and floor. On the far corner of the wall, low down, a chain was affixed, a heavy solid chain that connected to the dog collar around my neck. I was chained up on the floor like a dog, then I noticed the two bowls, one was half full of dirty water whilst the other had some brown foul smelling mush inside, and on the side of each bowl was written ‘Fido’.
It was hours before I heard the click clack of stilettos coming nearer, I braced myself as the door opened and light spilled into the room and there, standing in the doorway was the imposing figure of Sarina. ‘Aaagh, my little gora doggie is awake is he? Well that’s good news because I have a little treat for you’ She walked over to where I was lying on the cold floor and jerked the chain, forcing me to my knees. ‘ When I or any other of your owners walk into the room YOU WILL KNEEL AND KISS OUR SHOES, DO YOU UNDERSTAND GORA?’ ‘ye-es Mistress’ I croaked and began to reign feeble kisses down on her shiny black court shoes. ‘ENOUGH!’ she commanded, ‘you really do make me feel physically sick at times’ ‘Now, your treat, here’. She opened the bag she was carrying and bought out a packet which recognised as containing a Marks & Spencer French salad and brie sandwich. ‘ Pay attention doggie’, she said, ‘I had these sandwiches for lunch but didn’t eat all of them so I thought you would like what’s left’.
My heart leapt with anticipation, I hadn’t had any decent food for what seemed like a week and now here was Sarita offering me one of M&S’s finest! Maybe she felt guilty for what she had put me through. What she pulled out of the packet was a couple of tatty half eaten sandwiches. OK, I though, a bit scrappy but still ok. ‘I dropped these on the floor at lunchtime so couldn’t eat them but then I thought to myself my doggie here would like them’ she said with a cruel smile playing on her lips. She held the tattered sandwiches tantalisingly close to my face before dropping them on the floor just in front of me. ‘EAT!’ she commanded. I tried to obey but she held the chain firm so I couldn’t go anywhere. ‘Well doggie obviously doesn’t want them then’ she crooned. ‘No, please, please let me have them superior Goddess, I’ll do anything you say... please’ A look of playful menace inhabited her beautiful features, ‘Beg doggie, get on your knees and beg’ I did as she ordered, got on my knees and started to beg like a dog for scraps. ‘Now bark gora doggie, bark for your dinner’ she commanded. I barked, wroof, wroof, wap wap wap, I even made little pleading dog like noises, anything for that food. She broke off small bits of sandwiches and threw them at my head, when I managed to catch a couple in my mouth she clapped and cheered. Then she dropped the remaining sandwich on the floor and told me to eat up like ‘the dog you are – no hands’.
I crouched down & was about to nibble the sandwich with my mouth when her shoe came down right in front of me and began crushing the sandwich to a pulp on the floor in front of me, by the time she had finished it was a pulped up mush such to the bottom of her shoe. ‘You think white gora trash like you gets to eat what I eat? Think again shit for brains and start licking that mess of the sole of my shoe’. I licked and swallowed down the grit filled mess, taking the dirt from the bottom of her shoe into my mouth with the pulped sandwich. ‘Well Fido, that your dinner for today, that’s where pathetic white slave doggies get to eat from now on, from the sole of their owners shoes’ With a parting kick to my head she turned on her heels and walked out, shutting the door and leaving me in darkness again.
Jan 1, 2010
The Gora Pt 13

I don’t know how long I was kept in my concrete cell but it seemed liked weeks. All my days followed a similar pattern; I was kept chained to the wall, naked with just a dog bowl of dirty water for company. A couple of times a day (or night – I had no idea) Sarina or on occasion, Miss Sahota herself would enter the room, heels clicking on the concrete floor. What would follow would be what I can best describe in Miss Sahota’s words; ‘behaviour reconditioning through extreme stimuli’. In other words I was tortured until I in some way pleased my owners – and it was strange, but I really did think of them as my owners now. My food would be crushed and trampled into the dirty floor where I had to lap it up along with the grit & dust, then lick the rest from their boots or shoes – I grew quite acquainted with my owner’s footwear over that time. I was doused with buckets of cold water, slapped, kicked & beaten whilst all the time being made to repeat the same sentences over & over again:
‘Who owns you? - ‘You do Miss’
What are you? - I am property Miss
‘What am I? - You are the superior owner Miss
Why am I superior? - Because you are an Indian women & Goddess Miss
Why are you inferior? - Because I am an inferior white gora slave Miss
This continued in the same vein whilst my owners were standing over me, then after they had left a slideshow with no sound played on one of the walls intermittently – always showing pictures of Indian women in positions of great authority & status such as Princesses & Bollywood stars, followed by pictured of filthy stinking white male decrepids, living in the gutter and begging for scraps or being shotdown like vermin.

I was stirred by the usual click of heels on the concrete floor and then the firm yank on my chain bought me back to the land of the living. To my surprise a strange woman was in the room, she looked like Sarina only younger and taller.
‘UP!’ she barked. I got on to my knees, head bowed, feeling the pain of dozens of beating in my muscles & bones.
‘Lick my boot soles clean shithead’ she ordered & I rushed to obey, almost slobbering on her soles in my enthusiasm for the task.
‘What am I?’ she demanded, ‘you are a superior Indian owner Miss'
‘What are you’ she sneered, ‘I am a worthless white male Miss
‘And,’ she calmly continued, ‘why is that gora? ‘White males are naturally inferior & are the property of the Indian owners Miss.’ I answered with hesitation or thought.
‘Very good, very good gora’ she chuckled seeming pleased with herself. ‘Now put your head there and look up at me & DO NOT MOVE’ she ordered pointing to the floor by the door.
I did as I was told just in time as she had marched over towards the door & without looking bought first one boot up to bear directly on my face then with only the smallest hesitation placed all her weight on that boot as she bought the other up next to it to stand directly on my upturned face. The pain was incredible, her slim, sharp boot heels were digging right into my cheeks while her boot soles were crushing down on mouth & the other side of my face. Even then I couldn’t help admiring the way her slender boot heels met in the arch of her boot and curved down towards the front of her boot which was out of my, by now distorting vision.
I heard her speaking, was it to me? No she was on her mobile, she was actually standing on my face in order to make a call, I should have been shocked but it felt well, right somehow, I even felt a small warm glow of contentment & pride...Had I found my reason for living? She was speaking in English so I caught some conversation, she was standing on my face because the reception was poor down here i this concrete prison and the extra height my face provided her made all the difference........'The gora slave,' er me I guess, was 'now ready & willing,'.
That was the last of her words I caught before the humming in my ears made it too difficult to hear her superior voice so I concentrated on keeping my head as still as possible so as not to disturb her obviously important phone call.

She stepped down from her platform, issued a curt ‘on all fours dog’ which I struggled to do since I was very groggy, then she started to kick me viciously in the abdomen & head with a strength that took me by surprise, all the time filming this on her mobile and calling me a ‘white dog’ and a ‘Shiteating gora’ amongst others. The funny thing is they no longer felt like insults, they were praise and again that warm glow appeared as I lost consciousness under a reign of kicks & blows, by now not an unfamiliar way for me to go to sleep after a hard day.
When next I came round this time I was not in the concrete cell, but somewhere more familiar, back in the ladies lavatories in the office
Jan 1, 2010
That's the story in its entirety.
I've sent a link to this page to the beautiful, powerful Diva Goddess who originally inspired, in fact commanded me to write this story... I hope you read it again.....