At the Bottom

For the next five years, Carrie toiled. Washing clothes in a dirty river. Washing latrines and sweeping streets. Feeding her children on barely any income.

She had two of them, another on the way. The first two were boys. One from an Indian male. One from a Paki male. The third was with a young 18 year old Paki male that currently occupied her bed. He didn't expect him to be permanent. They left after they got what they wanted, or she had a baby.

She was highly fluid. She wore the niqab, but she went to temple when she was with the Indian male, and she went to the mosque when she was with Paki men. But most men in her encampment were Pakistani, so she spent more time with them. She picked up enough language to be conversant in the bedroom with either Indian men or Pakistani men.

She made dinner for her two boys when Ayaan came home. He wordlessly took her to bed, pushing her onto all fours, her pregnant belly hanging low as he pulled her robe up over her round ass. He was already hard, rubbing his thick cock against her entrance. Her pussy always welcomed the one who had bred it, and soon he was fucking her for all he was worth, his hands roughly gripping her hips. He grunted after a half hour, his cock spitting its seed into her wanton sex. It was a shame, he thought. He deserved better than an untouchables life.