Adultery A beautiful milf Nabila

[Khalid01]

Story is completely fictional and the names taken in the story are random.

Characters : 
Nabila : 38 years old
Imran : 18 years old, son of Nabila and Rafi
Rafi : 42 years old, husband of Nabila

Nabila getting groped in a crowded bus and the after events of that incident is the story all about.
Will be a short story.

[Khalid01]

Imran's heart pounded in his chest as the bus lurched forward, the diesel engine groaning in protest as it pulled away from the crowded Hyderabad bus stop. The air had the scent of sweat, spices, and exhaust fumes that seemed to cling to every surface. He looked over at his mother, Nabila, her fair skin standing out like a beacon amidst the sea of darker complexions. She was a few passengers ahead of him, her eyes fixed on the floor, her shoulders tense.


As the bus swayed through the congested streets, a burly man in a stained, once-white shirt stepped closer to her, his hands finding a place around her waist. Imran's stomach twisted into knots as the man leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, whispering something that made his mother's body stiffen. The man's movements grew bolder, his hips pushing against her in a sickening rhythm that mirrored the jolts of the bus's movement. Imran's fists clenched, his teeth grinding together as he watched, helpless.

He tried to navigate through the crush of bodies to reach her, but the aisle was packed, and each time he took a step, the squeezing mass pushed him back. His eyes darted around, searching for some kind of help, but the faces around him were a blur of indifference, oblivious to the violation playing out before their eyes. The man behind Nabila grew bolder, his grunts mingling with the cacophony of the bus's engine and the chatter of its passengers. Imran felt a rage boiling within him, a rage that was tempered only by the fear of what these men might do to his mother if he intervened.

The bus hit a pothole, and Nabila stumbled forward, her hand shooting out to grip the metal pole for balance. The man took advantage, his hand sliding up her side to cup her breast, squeezing it roughly. Imran's vision tunneled, and he could almost hear the crack of his knuckles against the man's face. But before he could act, the second man, who had been watching with a lecherous smile, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Hey, little boy," he sneered, his breath reeking of paan. "Your mama likes it rough, huh? Maybe you do too." His hand reached out to graze Imran's crotch, but the boy recoiled with a gasp, his eyes wide with horror. The man's leer grew wider, revealing a mouthful of stained teeth as he whispered, "You want a taste?"

Imran felt the heat of humiliation spread from his cheeks to the tip of his spine. His mother, his protector, was being molested right in front of him, and all he could do was stand there, trapped by the crush of bodies. He glanced around, desperation clawing at his chest, searching for any sign of a friendly face, someone who would help. But the other passengers remained steadfastly engrossed in their own lives, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the aisle.

The second man's hand hovered near Imran's crotch for a moment longer before retreating with a chuckle, the sound grating against his ears like nails on a chalkboard. The man stepped aside, giving Imran a clear view of his mother. Nabila's eyes met his for a brief second, and in them, he saw a mix of fear, anger, and something else – a silent plea for understanding. He realized then that she was putting on a brave face for his sake, enduring this ordeal to avoid any further trouble.

The first man finally stepped away, his eyes gleaming with a perverse satisfaction. Imran's gaze remained fixed on the bulge in his pants, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance. But before he could even begin to formulate a plan, the second man took his place, his grin turning predatory as he stepped closer to Nabila. He whispered something in her ear, his hands roaming over her curves, eliciting a soft moan of protest from her lips. Imran felt a cold fury coil around his heart, his mind screaming for someone to intervene.

He watched in horror as the second man's hand slipped down to cup her ass, his other hand reaching around to grope her chest. His mother's eyes squeezed shut, and she took a sharp intake of breath, but she remained eerily still, as if by freezing she could somehow make this nightmare vanish. The man's hand moved up and down in a rhythmic motion, mimicking the grinding of his hips. The words exchanged grew more explicit, their vulgarity piercing the air like a knife. Imran felt like he was drowning in a cesspool of despair.

The bus hit another bump, and the man's hand slipped under Nabila's saree, his fingers digging into her flesh. Imran could see the imprint of his mother's bra through the fabric, and his rage spiked. The men were getting bolder, their voices rising above the drone of the bus's engine. They talked about her as if she were an object, a plaything for their amusement. The passengers around them pretended not to hear, not to see, their averted gazes a silent testament to their complicity.

The second man's hand moved faster now, his thumb circling the peak of her breast as he whispered lewd suggestions into her ear. Nabila's face was a mask of stoicism, but her eyes searched the bus, silently pleading for rescue. Imran felt like he was watching a horror movie, unable to scream, unable to move. The man's other hand slid down the curve of her waist to her thigh, his grip tightening as he squeezed, his intentions clear.

The passengers around them remained unmoved, their eyes either glued to their phones or staring straight ahead. It was as if they had turned into statues, deaf to the disgusting sounds and blind to the blatant assault happening in their midst. Imran's helplessness morphed into a burning anger that threatened to consume him. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to scream, to fight, but the fear of making things worse for his mother held him back.

The man's hand moved higher up Nabila's thigh, his thumb brushing against the edge of her petticoat. Imran's breath caught in his throat, his heart thudding so loudly he was sure it would give him away. He watched, his eyes never leaving his mother's, as she bit her lip to stifle a cry, her eyes welling up with tears that she refused to let fall. Her chest heaved with each shallow breath she took, her body trembling slightly with each unwelcome touch.

The bus hit another pothole, sending a jolt through the floorboards and throwing Nabila's body against the man's. The impact made him groan, his grip on her tightening as he took the opportunity to press his erection against her. Imran's fists clenched so hard his nails broke the skin, leaving half-moons of pain in his palms. He tried to push through the wall of bodies, but the crush was too intense, his legs trembling with the effort.

Finally, the man behind Nabila stepped away, his chest heaving with satisfaction, the bulge in his pants unmistakable. As he moved back, Imran's eyes widened in horror as he saw the man's zipper was down, and his thick, dark cock was sticking out. He was still hard, glistening with sweat and precum, and he casually tucked it back into his pants as he stepped aside. The passengers around them shifted, as if finally acknowledging the scene, but no one said a word, no one offered a hand.

The second man took his place, his grin widening as he leaned in, whispering vile things into her ear. "Your boobs are so soft, baby," he murmured, his voice a vile hiss. "And your waist, so delicate. And that ass... I could just bury my face in it." His hands roamed freely over her body, squeezing and groping without hesitation.

Nabila's face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as the men's lewd comments filled the air. She felt violated, her dignity in tatters, but she held her tongue, knowing any reaction might only encourage them further. The man's calloused hands kneaded her flesh, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples through her blouse, making them harden despite the horror of the situation.

"Come with us to a lodge," the first one suggested, his voice a low, sleazy purr. "We'll show you real heaven, baby. You've never felt anything like this before." His breath was hot and moist on her neck, and she could feel the dampness of his excitement against her skin. "We'll take good care of you. Make you scream with pleasure."

Nabila's eyes grew wide with fear and disgust, but she didn't dare look up. The man's hand squeezed her breast, his thumb flicking over the erect nipple as if to demonstrate his promise. "Look how much we like you," the second one said, his own hand moving to caress the swollen head of his cock. "We'll make it worth your while, sweetheart."

Imran's mind raced, his thoughts a blur of anger and despair. He had to get her out of here, but how? His legs felt like lead, his body frozen with fear and rage. He tried to call out, but his voice was a strangled whisper, lost in the cacophony of the bus. The men's grins grew wider as they watched his struggle, their eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

As the bus jerked to a stop at the next station, Nabila's body seemed to come alive with a sudden urgency. She yanked her arm from the second man's grip and pushed her way through the indifferent crowd, her eyes fixed on the exit. Imran's heart leapt as he saw his chance. He followed, his eyes never leaving his mother's back, his own body moving on autopilot.


The men watched her retreat, their smiles never wavering, as if they had all the time in the world to claim their next victim. But as the bus doors opened, Nabila's legs carried her out into the blistering heat of the Mumbai afternoon, her saree fluttering around her like a flag of defiance. Imran stumbled after her, the fresh air outside slapping him in the face like a wet towel, jolting him back to reality.
Imran noticed some thick liquid sticking to her saree at the ass crack, he knows what it was, Nabila took out a handkerchief and wiped it off while she was still in walk.

Once they were a safe distance from the bus, Imran's voice broke the silence, trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Mom, why didn't you say anything? Why did you let them...?" His question trailed off, his throat thick with emotion.

Nabila turned to him, her eyes red-rimmed and her face a picture of stoic endurance. She took a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "Beta, I didn't want to make it worse," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You know how they can be, these animals. I thought if I just... bore it, they'd eventually leave me alone."

Imran stared at her, his young mind struggling to comprehend the depth of her sacrifice. "But, Mom, why didn't you fight back?" he choked out. "They had no right to do that to you!"

Nabila's eyes searched his, filled with a sadness that seemed to have grown roots in her very soul. "These men, beta, they have no fear of consequences. They are like wild animals," she said softly. "If I had resisted, it would have only made it worse for us both." She took a deep breath, her chest still heaving with the effort of holding back her sobs. "And as for shame, they have none. They do this because they think they can get away with it. Because women like me, standing alone, are easy targets."

Imran felt his anger boil over. "But, Mom, we can't just let them get away with it!" He clenched his fists so tightly, his knuckles cracked.

Nabila took his trembling hands in hers, her touch surprisingly firm. "Imran, listen to me," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "God is always watching. Those men, they will get their punishment. It might not be today or tomorrow, but they will. For every wrong they do, every tear they force from a woman's eye, they are digging their own graves deeper in hell."

Her words brought little comfort to the seething rage within Imran, but he knew she was right. The world was not a place where justice was always swift or visible. He took a deep breath, trying to push down the bile rising in his throat. They began to walk away from the bus stop, the cacophony of the city swelling around them once more. His mother's steps were unsteady, but she walked with her head held high, her posture a silent rejection of the degradation she had just endured.

"Imran," she began, her voice still trembling slightly, "you must promise me something." She stopped, turning to face him, her eyes boring into his soul. "You cannot tell anyone about what happened on that bus. Not your friends, not even your father."

Imran's eyes widened in shock. "But, why, Mom?" he protested. "They need to be reported!"

Nabila squeezed his hands tighter. "No, beta," she said firmly. "This is the world we live in. Sometimes, the best we can do is protect ourselves and move on. If we tell, it will only bring more trouble. People will talk, they will judge us, and it could even be dangerous. We must be strong and keep this between us."

Imran nodded reluctantly, understanding the gravity of the situation. They walked in silence, the only sound the clack of Nabila's sandals against the hot pavement. The sun beat down on them, unforgiving, as if in punishment for the indignity they had suffered. His mother's usually vibrant spirit seemed to have dimmed, leaving a shadow of the woman he knew. He felt a fierce protectiveness swell within him, a need to shield her from the harshness of the world.

[Khalid01]

The next day, Imran met his two friends, Aamir and Ali, at their usual hangout spot – a small tea stall tucked between a fruit market and a tailor's shop. They were both 18, like him, and had known each other since they were kids. As they sipped on sweet, milky chai, Aamir noticed the dark circles under Imran's eyes. "What happened, yaar?" he asked, his concern genuine. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
 
Imran took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as he held his cup. He hadn't slept much the previous night, haunted by the events on the bus. He  felt like he can’t hold it anymore and let it out "It's Mom," he began, his voice low. "Those... those two animals on the bus..."
 
Aamir's and Ali's expressions grew serious as they leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued. "What happened?" Ali asked, his eyes narrowing with concern.
 
Imran took a sip of his tea, trying to gather the words to explain the unspeakable. "Mom... she was molested on the bus yesterday." His voice was tight, each syllable forced through clenched teeth.
 
Aamir and Ali's eyes widened, but it was Gopi, the oldest of the trio, who spoke first. His deep, rumbling voice was filled with anger. "What? Did you do anything?"
 
Imran nodded solemnly, his eyes dark with remembered rage. "I wanted to, but it was so crowded, and Mom... she just stood there." He paused, his voice cracking with the weight of his secret. "But I know who they were. I see them around the neighborhood sometimes."
 
Gopi's expression grew thunderous, his eyes glinting with a promise of violence. "Give me their names," he demanded. "I'll take care of it."
 
Imran felt a flicker of hope. Gopi was strong, fearless. He had a reputation in their neighborhood for dealing with troublemakers. If anyone could get justice for his mother, it was him. He rattled off the descriptions of the two men, his voice shaking with anger.
 
"I'll need to talk to your mom," Gopi said, his jaw clenched. "We have to be sure before we do anything."
 
Imran nodded, his heart racing at the thought of reliving the traumatic event with his mother. But he knew Gopi was right. They needed to be certain of the facts before they could act. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll take you to her."
 
As they approached Imran's home, Aamir and Ali exchanged knowing glances. They had noticed how Gopi's gaze often lingered on Nabila whenever they saw her in the neighborhood, the hunger in his eyes barely concealed. They knew he had a crush on her, but they had never dared to voice their suspicions to Imran. Now, as they followed Gopi into Imran’s house where Nabila was  sitting on a sofa in the hall, her eyes red and swollen from crying, they couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.
 
Imran's mother looked up at the sudden intrusion, her expression a mix of surprise and anger. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice trembling. Imran stepped forward, his own anger at the men on the bus momentarily forgotten. "Mom, these are my friends. They want to help."
 
Nabila's gaze flickered from Imran to Gopi, then back again. "Help with what?" she asked, her voice sharp.
 
Imran took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction. "Mom, I told them what happened on the bus," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper.
 
Nabila's eyes flashed with fury as she shot to her feet, her hand slapping the table with a resounding crack. "How dare you?" she hissed, her voice quivering with barely restrained rage. "You promised, Imran!"
 
Imran took a step back, his eyes wide with shock. "Mom, I-I just wanted to... to make it right," he stuttered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt. "They said they could help. They won't tell anyone else, I promise."
 
But Nabila's anger was a living thing, a storm that had been brewing since the moment she had stepped off that bus. "You had no right!" she spat, her voice rising. "It's none of their business! You've made a fool out of me, out of us! What will people say?" Her hands trembled as she clutched her saree, her eyes flashing with betrayal.
 
Gopi stepped forward, his expression a mix of regret and determination. "Aunty, please," he began, his voice gentle despite his towering frame. "We're just trying to help. Those bastards don't deserve to walk the streets." He took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "We won't tell anyone, I swear. But we can't let them get away with this."
 
Nabila's eyes searched his, the anger slowly dissipating into despair. "What can you do?" she whispered, her voice brittle. "The world is full of monsters like them. They'll just find another victim."
 
Gopi stepped closer, his eyes intense. "I know a cop," he said firmly. "A good one. He'll listen to us. If you can identify those men, we can file a complaint. Maybe it won't bring you the peace you deserve, but it'll keep them from doing this to another woman."
 
Nabila's shoulders slumped, the weight of the world on her. She knew the risks of speaking out, the whispers that would follow. But the fire in her son's eyes and the promise in Gopi's voice gave her a flicker of hope. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Alright," she murmured. "But we must be careful."
 
Gopi nodded solemnly, a plan forming in his mind. As they stepped out of the house, he couldn't help the smug laugh that bubbled up within him. He had been waiting for an opportunity to get closer to Nabila for so long, and now fate had handed it to him on a silver platter. The thought of playing the hero, the protector, filled him with a thrill that was dangerously close to lust. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't deny the desire to be her savior, to have her look at him with something other than the polite indifference she usually reserved for the neighborhood boys.
 
They decided to go to the local security officer station the following day. Nabila, her resolve bolstered by her son's unshakable faith in Gopi, agreed to go along. As they waited in the stifling heat, surrounded by the dull murmur of other people's woes, Imran couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and anxiety.
 
The cop, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and a weary expression, took down their statement with a surprising lack of judgment. He promised them that he would do his best to find the men, his pen moving swiftly over the pad of paper as Nabila recounted the incident, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. Imran felt a flicker of hope – maybe, just maybe, they could bring those monsters to justice.
 
As they left the station, the air outside seemed cleaner, the sun's rays less harsh. Nabila looked at them with newfound determination, her shoulders squared. "We've done our part," she said, her voice firm. "Now, let's go home and forget this ever happened."
 
Imran and his friends nodded, but Gopi's mind was racing. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. He had to make sure those men paid for their crimes. Over the next few days, he kept a vigilant watch around the neighborhood, his eyes scanning every face that passed by, hoping to spot the two men. His obsession grew, fueled by a need to avenge Nabila's honor and perhaps to claim some of it for himself.
 
One evening, as he was heading home from the tea stall, he saw them – the same two men leaning against a wall, smoking cigarettes and laughing. Imran confirmed it was them. Gopi’s heart pounded in his chest, and without a second thought, he approached them, his friends trailing behind. "You remember him?"(showing Imran) Gopi growled, his fists clenched at his sides. "You remember what you did to my aunt?"
 
The two men looked up, their expressions shifting from amusement to surprise and then to hostility. "What's your problem, kid?" the one with the scar on his cheek sneered, taking a step closer.
 
Gopi didn't flinch. "You know what my problem is," he spat back. "You're the animals who molested my aunt on the bus."
 
The scar-faced man's smug grin grew wider, showing a set of rotting teeth. "Oh, so you're the little hero, huh?" He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Gopi's face. "You think you can do anything about it?"
 
But Gopi had had enough. His muscles coiled like a spring, and before the man could react, he swung a punch that connected with a satisfying crunch against the side of his jaw. The man staggered back, surprise morphing into rage, but Gopi was already on him. His fists flew in a blur, landing one after the other with a ferocity that sent the man reeling into his friend. The second man tried to interfere, but Gopi was too quick. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the wall, his forearm pressing hard against his throat. "You think you can get away with this?" Gopi snarled, the veins in his neck bulging. "You think you can just touch anyone you want?"
 
The first man, still recovering from the initial assault, lunged at Gopi. Imran stepped in, driven by a primal instinct to protect his mother's honor. He threw a wild punch that glanced off the man's cheek, stunning him momentarily. The two friends, Aamir and Ali, weren't far behind. They had seen enough of this kind of behavior in their neighborhood and weren't about to let it go unchallenged. Together, the four of them descended upon the two men like a pack of wolves, their fists and feet landing with a symphony of painful thuds and cracks.
 
The street grew tense as people stopped to watch the unfolding spectacle, a few cheering on the youths. The men, caught off guard, tried to fight back, but they were no match for the fury of the boys. Imran's heart raced as he threw punches, each one fueled by the memory of his mother's suffering. The crowd grew, and soon, the men realized they were outnumbered and outmatched. They stumbled away, their clothes torn and faces bruised, cursing and spitting as they retreated.
 
Breathless and shaking, Imran watched them go, his chest heaving with anger and adrenaline. Gopi turned to him, a feral grin on his face. "You did good, yaar," he said, clapping him on the back. "They won't mess with anyone's mom again."
 
But the victory was hollow. The sight of his mother's abusers, bruised and beaten, didn't fill Imran with the satisfaction he had hoped. Instead, he felt a cold dread creeping up his spine. "What have we done?" he murmured. "We can't just... beat them and let it go. They'll come back. They'll want revenge."
 
Gopi's grin faded, the gravity of the situation finally setting in. "You're right," he said, his voice sober. "We need to be smarter." He glanced around, ensuring no one from the crowd had recognized them. "We need to teach them a lesson they won't forget."
 
The very next day, as Imran and Nabila stepped out of their house on their way to market, they were met with a chilling sight. The two men they had reported to the security officer were leaning against the autorickshaw parked outside, smirks on their faces. Nabila's eyes widened in fear, but before she could react, they grabbed Imran, yanking him into the waiting vehicle and sped away. She screamed, the sound echoing through the narrow alleyways, but by the time the neighbors rushed out, the autorickshaw had disappeared.
 
Her heart racing, Nabila called Gopi and her husband Rafi, recounting the horror in a trembling voice. They immediately sprang into action, searching the neighborhood and alerting the local authorities. But it wasn't until later that evening, when the sun had dipped below the horizon, that she received a chilling phone call. It was one of the men, his voice a sneer over the static-filled line. "If you want to see your son alive, come alone to the old mechanic's shop on the outskirts of the city. Don't tell anyone. If we see even a hint of the security officer, we'll slice him up like a piece of meat."
 
The room spun around Nabila, and she had to sit down to keep from collapsing. Her fear was a living, breathing entity in the room with her, wrapping its cold, clammy hands around her throat. She was torn between rage at the men who had done this to her and anger at her son for getting himself into this mess. How could he have been so reckless, so foolish?
 
"What have you done?" she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She knew the dangers of speaking out, the risks they had taken. But she had allowed herself to hope that with Gopi's help, they could have brought those animals to justice without retribution. Now, it seemed that hope had been shattered into a million pieces, leaving only a path of pain and fear in its wake.
 
Her legs trembled as she approached the old mechanic's shop, the setting sun casting long shadows across the cracked concrete. The metal sign above the doorway creaked in the wind, a mournful sound that seemed to echo her own dread. The place was a relic of a bygone era, abandoned and forsaken, the perfect lair for men with no conscience.
 
The door groaned as she pushed it open, the sound piercing the silence of the deserted area. The smell of grease and dust hit her nose, a stark reminder of the world's cruel indifference. Inside, the light was dim, the only source a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. She saw Imran immediately, a stark silhouette against the grimy backdrop. His arms and legs were bound tightly with ropes, his mouth sealed shut with a piece of silver tape. His eyes, wide with terror, found hers, and in that moment, she knew she had to be strong, for both of them.
 
The two men sat on a wooden bench, a makeshift table in front of them with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a crumpled pack of playing cards. They looked up from their game, grinning like hyenas who had just spotted a weak gazelle. One of them, the one with the scar, leered at her, his eyes raking over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "Ah, the beauty has arrived," he sneered. "Your son's been a idiot, hasn't he?"
 
The other man, the one who had groped her on the bus first, stepped forward. He was clean-shaven and better dressed than his companion, but his eyes were cold and dead. "I'm Vijay," he said, his voice low and menacing. "This is my partner, Raju." He gestured to the scar-faced man, who gave a mocking bow. "You've been a busy woman, reporting us to the cops and all."

[Khalid01]

The other man, the one who had groped her on the bus first, stepped forward. He was clean-shaven and better dressed than his companion, but his eyes were cold and dead. "I'm Vijay," he said, his voice low and menacing. "This is my partner, Raju." He gestured to the scar-faced man, who gave a mocking bow. "You've been a busy woman, reporting us to the cops and all."
 no, you had to go and bring the law into it." His eyes narrowed, his scar whitening against his flushed skin. "But now, you're going to pay for what your son did to us."

Nabila's heart pounded in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "What do you want?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Imran's terrified gaze.

Vijay's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with malice. "What we want," he began, his voice a vile caress, "is a little entertainment." He took a swig from the bottle, his throat working greedily. "You see, your son and his friends thought they could play heroes. Now, we need to show them who the real bosses are." He gestured to Imran with the bottle, the liquid sloshing around inside. "Your boy's been a real handful, but we've got plans for him."

Nabila's stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice a thread of sound.

Vijay leaned back, his smile twisting into something darker. "We want a show," he said, gesturing to his friend. "We want you to beg us to fuck you, like the whore you are. And if you're convincing enough, maybe we'll let the boy go."

Raju sneered, taking a step closer. "A beautiful woman like you must have done it a hundred times before," he leered, his breath hot on Nabila's face. "You just need to drop that saree pallu, show us those tits, and beg like the bitch you are."

Nabila's eyes burned with humiliation, but she knew she had to keep her wits about her. "Alright," she whispered, her voice hoarse with fear. "But promise me you'll let him go."

Vijay and Raju exchanged a knowing smirk, their eyes gleaming with victory. "Oh, we'll let him go," Vijay assured her. "But first, the show."

Nabila's hands trembled as she unpinned her saree pallu, allowing it to fall to the ground. Her heart felt like it was in a vice, her mind racing for a way out of this hellish scenario. She knew she had to play along if she wanted to save Imran. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the men, her eyes cast down in feigned submission.

"Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I'll do anything."

Vijay's gaze dropped to her chest, where her breasts strained against the fabric of her blouse. "That's the spirit," he leered, taking another swig from the bottle. "But why don't you make it more... entertaining?" He gestured with the bottle, the amber liquid sloshing around. "Give us a little show, will you?"

Nabila's stomach lurched, but she knew she had to keep her son safe. With trembling hands, she reached up and unhooked the top button of her blouse, the fabric gapping slightly to reveal the swell of her breasts. "Please," she whispered, her voice a mere breath. "Just let him go."

Vijay's leer grew wider as he took another swig from the bottle. "That's better," he said, his eyes never leaving her chest. "But why don't you give us a little show first?" He gestured with the bottle, the amber liquid casting shadows on the dirty floor. "Shake those tits for us. Show us what we're getting before we decide on your boy's fate."

Nabila's eyes filled with rage, but she knew she had to play along. She took a deep breath and began to sway her torso slightly, her breasts moving in time with the motion. The men's eyes were glued to her, their smirks growing more and more predatory with each passing second. "Is that good enough?" she spat through gritted teeth.

Raju's eyes lit up with excitement as he watched her. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her breasts over her blouse, his grip painfully tight. He gave them a hard squeeze, his eyes never leaving hers. "Not good enough," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Dance for us, bitch. Make them shake like you're begging for it." He slapped her across the face, the sound echoing in the empty shop.

Nabila's cheek stung, but she bit back a scream, refusing to give them the satisfaction. Instead, she began to move more vigorously, her breasts jiggling with each step. The rage within her grew with every lecherous stare, every sickening groan of pleasure from the men. Imran's eyes were filled with horror, his body straining against his bindings. He wished he could look away, but he couldn't. He had to make sure his mother was okay.

Vijay's grin grew wider, his eyes never leaving Nabila's chest. "Not bad," he said, his voice a slurry mess. "But let's see that ass of yours. Turn around and give us a little dance."

Nabila's jaw clenched, but she knew she had to keep playing their twisted game. She slowly turned, her eyes on Imran, silently pleading for strength. His own gaze was filled with a mix of fear and anger, and she drew from it what little power she had left. She began to sway her hips slightly, the fabric of her saree whispering against her skin. Her movements were calculated, designed to keep the men's eyes on her and away from any potential escape plan.

"Look at that," Raju said, licking his lips. "Such a fine ass on a white-skinned bitch."

Vijay nodded in agreement, his eyes glazed over with lust. "It's like a ripe mango waiting to be picked," he leered, reaching out to grope her.

Nabila stepped back, feigning a giggle. "You like it?" she asked, her voice shaky. "Why don't I give you a better view?" With a flick of her wrists, she began to sway her hips in a slow, deliberate circle, her eyes never leaving the men's faces. They leaned forward, their breaths quickening in anticipation. "But you have to promise to be good boys and not touch," she teased, a hint of steel in her voice.

Vijay and Raju nodded eagerly, their eyes locked on her swaying hips. "We promise," Vijay said, his voice thick with lust. "We'll just watch."

Nabila took a deep breath, her heart racing. She knew she had to keep them entranced, to buy more time. With a dramatic flair, she began to unravel her saree, the fabric sliding off her hips in a slow, seductive dance. She stepped out of it, revealing her simple cotton petticoat. The men's eyes followed the movement, their breaths coming in harsh pants. "Look at those cheeks," Raju murmured, his hand reaching out as if to touch her.

With a smirk, Nabila stepped back, just out of reach. "You want a better view?" she asked, her voice a taunt. "Then maybe I should give you one." Without waiting for their reply, she grabbed the waist of her petticoat and began to lift it, inch by inch. The fabric billowed around her, revealing the curve of her calf, the smoothness of her thighs. The men leaned forward, hungry for more, their eyes never leaving her body.

"Faster," Vijay urged, his hand tightening around the whiskey bottle. "We don't have all night."

Nabila's heart raced as she complied, her movements growing more deliberate. She could feel their eyes on her like a thousand hot pokers, searing her skin. Her petticoat slid up, revealing more of her thighs, and she knew she had to keep going. With a swift motion, she hiked it up to her waist, the fabric clinging to her hips. She turned around, her back to the men, and bent over slightly, her ass on full display. Imran's eyes widened, a silent scream trapped behind the tape.

"That's it," Vijay rumbled, his voice thick with lust. "Now, spread those cheeks for us."

Nabila's stomach churned, but she knew she had to keep playing along. With trembling hands, she reached behind her and began to tug at the strings of her petticoat. The fabric loosened, and she stepped out of it, her heart racing. She could feel the cold air on her bare skin, the only barrier between her and the men's leering gazes her thin cotton blouse and panty.

Raju's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, his tongue flicking over his lips. "That's it," he said, his voice a hungry growl. "Now, spread those cheeks for us. Let us see what you've got hidden back there."

Nabila gritted her teeth and did as she was told, feeling their eyes bore into her like a thousand needles. She could feel their excitement, their lust, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smugness off their faces. She reached behind her and spread her cheeks apart, the fabric of her panty stretching taut.

Vijay was the first to move, his hand coming down on her ass with a resounding smack that echoed through the garage. The impact was surprising, and she stifled a yelp, her eyes watering from the pain. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Again," he ordered, his hand coming down a second time.

Her skin burned where he had hit her, and she knew she had to keep going. She braced herself as Vijay's hand came down again, and again, each smack leaving a handprint on her milky white skin, turning it a fiery red. She could feel the heat radiating from the marks, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had settled in her bones.

The sound of skin on skin was punctuated by their lewd comments, their laughter grating against her dignity. With every blow, she imagined it was their faces she was slapping, their eyes she was blinding with her fury. But she couldn't let them see her anger, not yet. Not until she had a plan.

Her thoughts raced as she felt their eyes roam over her exposed flesh, her body trembling with revulsion and fear. The handprints grew darker, the pain a constant reminder of their power over her. But she was determined not to break, not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her resolve grew stronger with every smack, her mind sharpening, searching for a way out of this nightmare.

It was then that Raju, his eyes glazed over with desire, lunged forward. He grabbed her hips, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. Nabila's body stiffened as she felt his tongue snake out, tracing the line of her ass crack before coming to rest on her cheek. He kissed her, his wet, sloppy kisses a violation that made her want to scream. She could taste the sourness of his desire, the stale alcohol on his breath. Her stomach churned as he licked her, his rough tongue a blunt instrument against her sensitive skin.

Imran's eyes were wide with horror, his body straining against the ropes that bound him. He watched as his mother's dignity was stripped away piece by piece, his mind racing with a desperate need to do something, anything, to stop this. But he was powerless, a silent witness to her degradation.

Raju's breath grew heavier, his eyes never leaving Nabila's exposed ass. He leaned in closer, his nose pressing against the fabric of her panties. With a sickening sniff, he inhaled deeply, a look of perverse pleasure crossing his face. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You smell so sweet, like a freshly plucked flower."

Nabila's skin crawled with disgust, but she kept her composure, her eyes locked on the flickering light above. She knew she had to keep them distracted, to keep playing along. "Do you like it?" she asked, her voice a mockery of a tease. "Would you like a closer look?"

Raju's grin grew even wider, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Oh, yes," he murmured, his hand reaching for the waistband of her panties. "Let's see what you've got hidden in there."

Nabila's stomach churned as she felt his fingers tug at the fabric, the roughness of his skin against her sending waves of nausea through her. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay still as he pulled the elastic aside, exposing her to the cold, dank air of the garage. The fabric of her panties was wet with his saliva, sticking to her skin like a second skin.

Raju leaned in even closer, his nose buried in her cleft as he took a long, deep sniff. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he groaned with pleasure. "So sweet," he murmured, his voice barely coherent. "Like a freshly picked mango."

Vijay, unable to resist the temptation any longer, wrenched Nabila's cheeks apart, forcing her to stand still. "My turn," he grunted, his eyes narrowed with lust. He leaned in, his nose only inches from her exposed anus. The room was thick with the smell of her fear and the men's desire, a toxic mix that made her stomach turn. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the horror of the moment.

Raju chuckled, his hand releasing her panties. He stepped back, giving his partner space to indulge in his sick desires. Vijay took a deep, exaggerated sniff, his nostrils flaring. "It's true," he murmured, his voice a sick imitation of wonder. "You do smell like heaven."

Nabila felt Vijay's hot breath against her skin as he leaned in closer. She could feel his gaze on her, his eyes feasting on the most intimate part of her that no man should ever see, let alone touch. Her face burned with humiliation, but she held still, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Go ahead," Raju said, his voice thick with lust. "Take a good sniff. She's all yours." He stepped back, his eyes never leaving Nabila's exposed ass, his hand idly stroking his crotch.

Vijay didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his breath hot and sour against Nabila's skin. She could feel his nose poking between her cheeks, his breath warm and moist as it caressed the most intimate part of her. Her body tensed with revulsion, but she forced herself to stay still, to keep playing their twisted game.

"Mmm," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural sound that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "So sweet, so ripe." His tongue snaked out, and she felt it brush against her anus, a violation that sent a bolt of pure terror through her. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Let me taste," Raju said, his voice thick with lust. Vijay chuckled and pulled back, giving him space. Nabila felt the cold air of the garage kiss her exposed skin as the second man stepped forward, his eyes glued to the small, tight hole between her cheeks.

Raju leaned in, his nose mere millimeters from her ass. His breath was hot and sour, making her skin crawl. "So pretty," he murmured, his gaze never leaving her. "So small and pink." He licked his lips, his hand reaching down to adjust the bulge in his pants. "Let's see how it tastes."

Vijay chuckled, his eyes glittering with malice. "Hold on," he said, his hand coming up to stop Raju. "Let me have a sniff first." He leaned in, his nose pressing against her skin. Nabila's body stiffened, bile rising in her throat. She could feel him inhale deeply, his breath hot and wet against her most private part. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice a twisted caress. "It's like a bouquet of roses, isn't it?"

The men's sick games were reaching a new level of depravity, but Nabila knew she couldn't break, not yet. She had to find a way to get Imran out of this alive. With every ounce of strength she had, she forced herself to play along, her voice a trembling whisper. "Is it good?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Do you like it?"

Raju's hand shot out, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her back against him. He pressed his erection into her back, his breath hot and heavy against her ear. "You like this, don't you?" he growled. "You like being our little plaything."

Nabila's mind raced, her fear for Imran overpowering the disgust she felt for the men. She had to find a way to escape. "Yes," she whispered, her voice shaking with fear. "I like it."

Vijay's grin grew wider, his eyes never leaving her face. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He gestured to the old, grease-stained bench nearby. "Lie down," he ordered. "We want to make sure you're comfortable for the next part of the show."

Nabila's legs felt like jelly as she moved to the bench pulling back her slipped panty to it’s place, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. She knew she had to keep them entranced, to keep playing their twisted game. With trembling hands, she lay down, her body trembling with fear and revulsion.

[Khalid01]

Vijay's eyes gleamed with excitement as he stepped forward, his hand reaching for her thigh. He pushed her legs apart, exposing her to their leering gazes once more. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste the damp fabric of her panties. Nabila bit back a scream, her body tensing with each touch.


With a grunt of pleasure, Raju stepped aside, giving his friend full access to her body. Vijay wasted no time, his tongue sliding beneath the fabric to explore the soft folds of her sex. Nabila's body jerked, a muffled whimper escaping her as she felt his rough tongue against her clit. The sensation was foreign, a mix of revulsion and a strange, unwelcome arousal that made her feel even more disgusted with herself.

Her eyes searched for Imran, but he had squeezed his eyes shut, his body taut with tension. She could see the pain etched on his face, the way his jaw was clenched, and she felt a stab of guilt. She had to keep playing along, had to find a way out of this for both of them. She took a deep, shaky breath and forced her body to relax, to accept the unwanted attentions of the men.

Vijay's tongue grew more insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin around her anus before he moved back to her pussy. The fabric of her panties was wet with his saliva, sticking to her skin like a second skin. Nabila bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out as he worked his tongue in a slow, torturous rhythm. His hands gripped her thighs, holding them apart as if she would dare to close them.

With a grin, he stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your turn," he said, gesturing to the bench. "Make sure she's ready for us."

Nabila's body was trembling, but she knew she had to keep playing along. She laid down on the cold, greasy metal, the fear and revulsion threatening to overwhelm her. Vijay's hand reached up to caress her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice a sick parody of comfort. "We'll make it good for you."

With a grin, he stepped aside, and Raju took his place between her legs. He leaned down, his tongue sliding up her inner thigh, teasing her. Nabila felt bile rise in her throat, but she forced herself to lay still, to let the man have his sick pleasure. His breath was hot against her skin, and she could feel his excitement as his tongue reached the edge of her panties. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and ripped them away, leaving her exposed to the cold air and their leering eyes.

Vijay stepped up to the bench, his gaze locked on her face. He leaned over, his hands reaching for her breasts. He squeezed them, his rough thumbs circling her nipples until they stood erect. Nabila's breath caught in her throat as she felt his hot breath against her neck. She knew what was coming, knew she had to endure it. For Imran.

With a wicked grin, Vijay bent his head, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth. He bit down gently, the sensation sending a jolt of fear through her body. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking against the tight peak. She could feel him smiling against her, enjoying her helplessness. Nabila's eyes squeezed shut as she willed herself not to react, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her.

Meanwhile, Raju had positioned himself between her legs, his breath hot and wet against her exposed pussy. She felt his tongue snake out, tracing the line of her slit. Her body tensed, but she forced herself to lie still, her mind racing. Vijay's teeth scbangd against her nipple, the pain a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue. She could feel the wetness of her own arousal, a traitorous response to the fear that coursed through her veins.

Raju's tongue grew bolder, pushing into her, tasting her fear and desire. He lapped at her clit, his movements growing more insistent. Nabila's body began to respond, a low moan escaping her despite her efforts to remain silent. The men chuckled, their grunts of pleasure egging her on. She felt a hand slide down her stomach, pushing her blouse up to expose her breasts fully.

Vijay's mouth moved away from her nipple, leaving it tingling and sensitive. He leaned back to watch as his friend ravaged her, his own erection straining against his pants. "Look how much she likes it," he taunted, his hand tracing the line of her hip.

Raju's tongue danced over her clit, flicking and swirling in a relentless pattern that had Nabila's hips rising off the bench. Her body was on fire, a maelstrom of fear and unwanted arousal. She could feel the wetness spreading, her pussy growing slicker with each pass of his tongue. Her mind was a tumult of emotions: anger, disgust, and a desperate need to survive this ordeal.

Vijay's hand left her hip to join his friend's mouth, his rough fingers parting her folds as they both feasted on her. Nabila's eyes rolled back in her head, a whimper escaping her as she felt Vijay's hot breath against her other nipple. He took it into his mouth, suckling hard as she arched her back. The pleasure was a stark contrast to the horror, and she hated herself for feeling it. Yet, she knew she had to keep playing along, to keep the men distracted.

Raju's tongue grew more demanding, sliding into her pussy, curling up to hit that spot that made her legs tremble. She bit down hard on her lip, her body responding despite her mind screaming in protest. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place as he licked and sucked, exploring every inch of her. Nabila's breath came in short, sharp gasps as the pressure grew, her hips bucking against his mouth.

Vijay's teeth grazed her other nipple, his tongue swirling around it before moving down to kiss the soft skin of her stomach. His hand reached down to caress her pussy, his rough fingers sliding through her wetness. He groaned with satisfaction, his erection straining against his pants. "Your turn," he murmured to Raju, his voice thick with lust.

Raju's mouth left her pussy with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to her skin. He grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "My favorite part," he said, his voice guttural. He leaned down, his mouth finding Nabila's clit once more. His tongue was like a whip, flicking and teasing, making her squirm under his touch.

Vijay stepped aside, his own excitement palpable. He unzipped his pants, his erection springing free. It was thick and veiny, a stark contrast to the cold metal bench beneath Nabila's back. He stepped closer, his cock brushing against her thigh as he took his place at her side.

With a smirk, he leaned down and took over from where Raju had left off, his tongue delving into her pussy with a fervor that made her body jerk. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he feasted on her. Nabila's eyes squeezed shut, her body betraying her with each flick of his tongue. She felt his other hand slide up to her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple hard. The pain was a sharp reminder of her situation, but she couldn't help the moan that slipped out.

Raju took the opportunity to slide his own hand into the mix, his rough fingers teasing her clit as Vijay's tongue plunged in and out of her. The sensation was overwhelming, a whirlwind of disgust and a perverse, traitorous pleasure. She could feel the heat building inside her, a pressure that she desperately wanted to deny.

Imran's eyes were wide with horror, his body trembling as he watched the men violate his mother. He had to do something, but the ropes held him tight, cutting into his wrists and ankles, leaving him helpless.

Raju's hand left her throbbing clit, and she felt him stand up. Vijay's tongue was relentless, pushing deeper into her pussy, the pleasure overwhelming her fear. She knew she had to keep them satisfied, to find a way out of this. With a grin, Raju got naked holding his dick, and it stood tall, thick and menacing. "Open wide," he sneered, pushing the head of his erection against her mouth.

Nabila's eyes shot open, staring up at him with a mix of revulsion and resignation. She knew what was coming, and she had to play along. She parted her lips, letting him slide his cock in. It was hot and hard, the taste of his lust coating her tongue. He began to thrust, his movements rough and demanding. She could feel the veins pulsing, the heat of him against her face.

Her eyes watered as she took him deeper, her throat tightening around his shaft. The sounds of Vijay's slurping and her own muffled moans filled the garage, a cacophony of degradation. She could feel the orgasm building, her body responding against her will to the men's assault. The sensation was like a storm, a whirlwind of fear and disgust that she couldn't escape.

Raju's hand was a vice around her head, pushing her down onto his cock as he grunted in pleasure. Nabila's cheeks hollowed with each bob, her eyes never leaving his as she choked down his length. His other hand was tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat as he thrust into her mouth. Vijay's tongue never ceased its torture, delving into her pussy, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Her eyes watered and she gagged around the thick intrusion, her throat tightening around the unyielding shaft. Yet, she could feel the pressure building, a crescendo of sensation that she didn't want but couldn't ignore. Vijay's tongue was a maelstrom inside her, swirling and lapping, bringing forth a wave of pleasure she despised herself for feeling.

Raju's hand tightened in her hair, pulling harder, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust deeper. She could see the triumph in them, the sick pleasure he took in her degradation. He was in complete control, her mouth a mere receptacle for his lust. Nabila's eyes never left his, her silent screams echoing in the garage as she took him in, inch by inch.

The pressure grew, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. She could feel it building, the orgasm that she hadn't wanted but now couldn't fight. Vijay's tongue was relentless, working in tandem with Raju's cock, pushing her closer and closer to the precipice. Her breath grew ragged, her throat burning with the effort of not choking, her body betraying her with every twitch and quiver.

And then it hit her, a wave of pleasure that crashed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath, making her body spasm. Nabila's eyes rolled back in her head, a keening sound escaping her mouth around Raju's cock. Her pussy clenched around Vijay's tongue, her hips bucking against his mouth as she rode the crest of the wave.

Raju's eyes went wide, his grip on her hair tightening as he felt the vibrations of her orgasm against his cock. "Fuck," he breathed, his eyes glazing over with lust. "Your mouth feels so good when you come." He pushed harder, his hips snapping into her face as he took her over the edge again and again.

Nabila could feel the wetness on her face, a mix of her own saliva and tears, as she fought not to gag. The taste of him was bitter in her mouth, the smell of his lust overpowering the garage's usual scent of oil and gasoline. Vijay's hands left her thighs, his cock now pressing against her slick pussy. She could feel the tip of him, thick and blunt, as he rubbed it up and down her slit, trying to find the right angle.

"Look how much she loves it," Vijay said, his voice a low growl as he watched her face contort around Raju's cock. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him, his eyes glittering with excitement. "You're going to take both of us, aren't you?"

Raju's grip tightened in Nabila's hair, pulling her head back further, the angle of his cock in her mouth changing, making her gag. He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Fuck yeah, she loves it," he grunted, his eyes locked on her watering gaze. "Feels like heaven, doesn't it?"

Vijay positioned himself between her legs, his cock slick with her juices as he lined himself up with her pussy. He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with malicious excitement. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Nabila nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She felt his tip press against her, the bluntness of him making her wince despite the pleasure that had just ravaged her body. With a grin, Vijay pushed in, the head of his cock breaching her tight entrance. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he savored the feeling of her around him.

"Fuck, you're tight," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He pulled back slightly, the head of his cock dragging against her swollen clit before plunging back in, a little deeper this time. Nabila's eyes watered as he began to thrust in earnest, his movements slow and deliberate, relishing the feel of her.

Each push was a battle, her body resisting the intrusion, clenching around him like a fist. He groaned with pleasure, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her struggle. "So tight," he repeated, his voice a guttural whisper. "You're going to feel so good around us."

Vijay's cock slammed into her, the force of it making her body jolt on the bench. Her legs were splayed wide, her pussy open and vulnerable to his relentless assault. He was merciless, his hips snapping into her with a fervor that left no room for anything but pain and pleasure. Nabila's mouth was full, Raju's cock still deep in her throat, his grip on her head never loosening.

The men were in sync now, their movements a dance of depravity. Vijay's strokes grew quicker, his cock disappearing inside her only to be met by the wet slap of his body against her ass. Each time he pulled out, he'd drag the length of him through her folds, the tip brushing against her clit before plunging back in. Nabila's mouth was a prison for Raju's cock, her cheeks hollowed as she struggled to breathe around his girth.

Raju watched her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks, the desperate, muffled sounds she made around his shaft. He felt his orgasm building, his balls tightening with each thrust into her willing mouth. "Oh, yeah," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're going to make me cum."

Nabila's eyes grew wide as he pulled out, his cock shiny with her spit and saliva. She knew what was coming, had felt the hot spurts of his release in her mouth before. She braced herself, her jaw already sore from the abuse. His hand was a blur, jerking his cock rapidly. He leaned over her, his breath hot against her face as he painted her cheeks with his semen. It landed with wet splats, the sticky warmth of it making her stomach churn.

The first shot went straight into her eye, the shock of it making her flinch. The next few spurts hit her nose and mouth, the bitter taste of his cum coating her tongue. She choked, her throat closing up as she tried to breathe. Vijay's cock was still buried deep inside her, his movements never stopping as he watched his friend's climax. "Swallow," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust.

Nabila did as she was told, the thick ropes of cum sliding down her throat. It was a struggle, but she managed, her body jerking with the effort. She could feel the warmth of it spreading through her, mixing with the saliva and her own juices. It was a perverse kind of intimacy, a sharing of bodily fluids that she never wanted but had no power to stop.

As Vijay's cock slammed into her, she couldn't help but glance at the monstrous organ that had just been in her mouth. Raju's dick was a terrifying sight, longer and thicker than her husband's, with a foreskin that made it look like an angry snake poised to strike. The comparison was involuntary, a fleeting thought that made her stomach turn. Her mind reeled at the thought of her gentle, loving husband, his circumcised penis a stark contrast to the beasts that now violated her.

Her eyes snapped back to Vijay, his own erection a blur of motion between her legs. He grunted with pleasure, his eyes never leaving hers as he drove deeper. Nabila's mind raced, trying to find something, anything, to focus on other than the pain and humiliation. She thought of her husband's tender touch, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his gentle kisses that made her feel loved and cherished.

But Vijay was relentless, his cock pounding into her with a ferocity that made her forget everything else. The walls of her pussy clenched around him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her body. She felt her moans grow louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he hit that spot inside her that she'd always liked. Despite the horror of the situation, she couldn't deny the sensation, her body's traitorous response to his violent intrusion.

With each thrust, her hips rose to meet his, her body moving with a mind of its own, craving the release he was bringing her closer to. His hands gripped her waist, his nails digging in as he drove deeper, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the garage. The pain of his nails and the stretch of her pussy around his cock mixed with the pleasure, a toxic cocktail that had her arching off the bench.

Imran watched in horror, unable to look away as his mother's body responded to the relentless assault. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open in silent cries of pleasure, her body a canvas of ecstasy painted by the very men who had brought them to this hell. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger, unable to reconcile the mother he knew with the woman being taken by these monsters.

Nabila was lost in the tumult of sensations, her mind a haze of pleasure and pain. Vijay's cock filled her completely, stretching her to her limits as he hammered into her with unbridled lust. Her body arched off the bench with each thrust, her back bowing in a silent plea for more, even as tears of anguish streamed down her face. Her breasts bounced with the rhythm, her nipples hardened pebbles that seemed to ache for attention.

Vijay's eyes were locked on hers, the triumph in them making her stomach churn even as her pussy clenched around him. He knew she was close, could feel it in the way her body tightened around him, the way her cries grew more desperate. His hips snapped against hers, the sound echoing in the garage as he claimed her completely. "You like it, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a low growl. "You like being our little slut."

Nabila's eyes snapped open, the anger in them briefly overriding the lust. She wanted to spit the words back in his face, to tell him that she hated every second of this, that she was only doing this to save her son. But the need for air was too strong, and all she could do was nod, her body betraying her once more as she took Raju's cock back into her mouth.

Vijay's grin grew wider, his strokes becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. Nabila felt the pressure building within her, a mix of horror and pleasure that she had no control over. Her body was responding, her pussy tightening around him, her hips bucking up to meet each thrust. She knew it was only a matter of time before she broke, before she gave them the satisfaction of seeing her shatter completely.

Her eyes never left Vijay's as she felt the tension coil tighter and tighter. His eyes were like twin pools of blackness, the only emotion in them was the desire to claim her, to mark her as theirs. And as much as she hated it, she knew she was going to give him what he wanted. Her orgasm was a scream that was never heard, a silent plea for mercy that went unheard in the garage's darkness.

Her body trembled as Vijay reached his own peak, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself into her. The warmth of his semen filled her, the sensation of his release sending a final shudder through her body. She felt him pull out, the emptiness of her pussy a stark contrast to the fullness of her mouth, still filled with Raju's cock.

With a smug smile, Raju stepped aside, allowing Vijay to collapse onto the bench beside her, his eyes closing as he basked in the afterglow of his conquest. Nabila felt a mix of relief and dread as she looked at the man who had just used her body so brutally. He was panting, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His cock lay limp against his thigh, a testament to the violence of his climax.

But the nightmare wasn't over yet. With a wicked grin, Raju took Vijay's place between her legs, his own erection bobbing with excitement. He didn't bother with pretense, simply lining himself up with her dripping pussy and thrusting in without warning. Nabila's body was already stretched to the brink, the feel of Vijay's semen trickling out of her adding a layer of humiliation to the pain of Raju's entry.

He was even more forceful than Vijay, his hips slamming into her with a brutality that made her teeth clatter together. She felt the full weight of his body, his cock a steel rod inside her, filling her so completely that she thought she might split in two. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of pain through her, her pussy clenching around him in a futile attempt to push him out.

Yet, amidst the horror, there was a flicker of something else. An unwelcome warmth that began to spread from her core, a sensation that grew with each plunge of his hips. It was as though her body had switched tracks, betraying her once again. Her breath hitched in her throat, not from fear, but from the unbidden pleasure that was unfurling deep within her.

Raju's cock was thick and unyielding, filling her up in a way that sent shivers of delight through her body despite her desperate situation. Her inner walls clenched around him, almost as if beseeching for more, and she could feel her body start to respond to his brutal rhythm. The anger and disgust were still there, but now, they were undercurrents to the surprising waves of pleasure that crashed over her.

He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer to him, his strokes deep and punishing. Nabila's eyes widened with every thrust, her mouth forming a silent 'Oh' that grew louder with each passing moment. She could feel her orgasm approaching, the pressure building like a dam about to burst. And then, with a final, powerful slam of his hips, she did scream, the sound echoing through the garage, a mix of pleasure and pain that seemed to shake the very foundations of the grimy, metal walls.

Raju's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he watched her body convulse around his cock. He knew he had her now, knew that she was his to do with as he pleased. His strokes grew more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he chased his own release. Nabila's screams grew more desperate, her body moving with an urgency that seemed almost feral. Her nails dug into the bench, her back arching as she met his every thrust with a wantonness that sent fire through his veins.

The smell of sex and sweat filled the air, the scent of her arousal an intoxicating perfume that made him even harder. He could feel the tightness of her pussy, the way she was clenching around him, her body begging for his release. He leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a brutal kiss that tasted of cum and despair. Her body was trembling beneath him, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pushed back against him, her hips matching his rhythm.

The dance of their bodies grew more frantic, the slap of skin on skin the only sound in the garage. Nabila's moans were muffled by his mouth, her teeth digging into his lip as she rode the wave of pleasure that seemed to consume her. The taste of blood only made him more aggressive, his hips moving faster, his cock plunging deeper. He felt his balls tighten, the warmth of his cum building in his balls, ready to explode.

Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, her inner muscles contracting in time with her moans. He could feel her orgasm approaching, the tremors in her body growing stronger with each thrust. His eyes never left hers, the hunger in them driving him closer to the edge. "You're going to cum for me," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "You're going to show me how much you love being fucked."

Nabila's eyes were wild, a mix of fear, anger, and a burgeoning pleasure that she couldn't ignore. She hated herself for it, hated that she was responding to this monster, but her body had a will of its own. With a final, desperate push, she felt the dam burst, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado. Her scream was muffled by his hand, but he felt it, the way her pussy tightened around him, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

Raju's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his own release crash over him, his cock spurting deep inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth of her cunt gripping him like a vice, her muscles rippling around him as she came. He roared, his hips bucking as he emptied himself into her, filling her with his seed. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a high that made him feel like a king, a god.

Nabila's body was a symphony of sensation, her orgasm a crescendo that seemed to go on forever. Each pulse of his cock sent another wave of pleasure through her, making her spasm around him. Her eyes were screwed shut, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to keep from screaming out his name. It was a mix of ecstasy and horror, her body responding to his brutal touch despite the fear and disgust that raged within her.

And then, without warning, the door to the garage flew open, the harsh light from the outside world spilling in. Imran's three friends, Aamir, Ali, and Gopi, stood there, their faces a mix of shock and rage. The men had come looking for them, driven by a mix of loyalty and concern for their friend's safety. They had no idea what they would find, but the sight before them was beyond their worst nightmares.

Raju and Vijay, caught in the act, scrambled to pull their clothes back on, their eyes wide with terror as they realized their depraved actions had been discovered. The boys' eyes were glued to Nabila, her body exposed and trembling on the bench, the aftermath of the men's assault written all over her. The room was thick with the scent of sex and fear, the air heavy with the unspoken truth of what had just transpired.

Imran's friends, Aamir, Ali, and Gopi, stood frozen in the doorway, their fists clenched in anger at the sight before them. They had come looking for their friend and his mother, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that something was amiss. They had no idea they would walk into a scene so monstrous, so utterly degrading. The reality of it was a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the dark world that lurked just beneath the surface of their city.

Nabila lay on the bench, her body a map of the violation she'd endured, her dignity shattered like the broken glass scattered on the floor. Her eyes met theirs, a silent plea for help that seemed to echo through the garage. They took in the horror in an instant, the stark nakedness of her body, the semen that stained her face and breasts, the way she lay there, vulnerable and broken. The rage that filled them was a living, breathing entity, a roar that demanded justice for their friend and his mother.

With a speed that belied their shock, Aamir, Ali, and Gopi charged forward, their fists raised. The men, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, scurried away like rats, desperately trying to cover their nakedness as they fled. They didn't bother to grab their clothes, their only thought to escape the wrath that was about to be unleashed. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the room with only the sound of their retreating footsteps and Nabila's ragged breaths.

Gopi's eyes never left Nabila, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never seen such raw pain and humiliation in a person's eyes, not even in the movies he'd watched in secret. His own attraction to her felt like a lead weight in his stomach, a sickening reminder of his own failures. With trembling hands, he gathered her discarded clothes, his eyes never meeting hers. He knew he couldn't let her see the rage and guilt that roiled within him, not now. He approached her slowly, placing the clothes gently beside her on the bench.

Her eyes remained closed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the horror she'd just endured. Gopi's heart broke a little more with each shallow breath she took. He wanted to wrap her in a blanket of protection, to wipe away the tears and the evidence of the men's depravity, but all he could do was offer her the dignity of covering herself. His hands hovered over her, unsure of what to do, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance and regret.

With a gentle touch that belied the storm raging inside him, Gopi placed the clothes beside Nabila, his eyes never leaving her face. He wished he could take away her pain, erase the last hour from existence. But all he had was the simple act of offering her modesty. He stepped back, giving her space to recover, his own body feeling heavy with the weight of his inaction.

Aamir and Ali, their expressions a mix of fury and disgust, turned to Imran, their eyes on the ropes that bound him. They moved swiftly, their hands sure as they worked to untangle the knots. The anger that coursed through their veins made them silent, their movements efficient. They knew that words would come later, that right now, action was what was needed.

As Nabila's eyes fluttered open, she took in the scene before her. The men were gone, but the evidence of their assault remained, sticky and vile on her skin. A strange mix of emotions warred within her. The disgust she felt for what they had done to her was undeniable, a thick bile that rose in her throat. But there was also something else, a confusing coil of pleasure that twisted through her belly like a serpent. Despite herself, her body had responded to their brutal touch, had climaxed around their cocks. It was a betrayal she couldn't fathom, a treachery that made her feel as dirty as the floor beneath her.

Her mind reeled as she tried to piece together the moments leading up to this. The pleasure had been like a siren's call, luring her into a dark and twisted place she never wanted to visit again. But even as she felt the disgust, there was a part of her that craved it, that reveled in the illicit thrill of being taken so thoroughly. It was a secret she would carry with her, a dirty little pleasure that she knew she could never confess to anyone, not even herself.

Nabila quickly dressed, her trembling hands fumbling with the fabric as she covered herself. There was no force from the men to cause any injuries on her body, which was evident she had not put up a fight. She felt a strange mix of relief and guilt at this. Relief that she could still move, that she was not beaten or broken, but guilt for the part of her that had enjoyed their touch. She knew she had done what she had to do to protect Imran, but the thought of what they had taken from her was almost too much to bear.

Gopi's eyes remained cast down, his cheeks flaming as he tried not to look at her. He had seen Nabila naked before, in the safety of his own imagination, but never like this. The reality of her violation was a stark contrast to the fantasies he had once indulged in. Those thoughts now felt like a betrayal, a dirty stain on his mind that he could never scrub clean. He had lusted after her, yes, but never wanted to see her in such a state of degradation. The sight of her, used and abused, brought him to his knees, not with lust, but with regret and self-loathing.

He wished he could take back every lewd thought he had ever had about her, replace them with memories of her smiling, her eyes alight with joy. The Nabila he knew was a woman of strength and dignity, not this broken shell of a person who lay trembling before him. His heart ached for her, for the pain she had suffered, and for the pain he knew she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

Gopi's mind raced with images of what they had done to her, the way they had used her body for their own sick pleasure. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to find those men, to make them feel a fraction of what she had felt, to make them understand the depth of their depravity. But he knew that would not bring her back, would not erase the memories that now haunted her.

As Nabila's eyes searched their faces, Gopi felt the weight of her silent question, the unspoken plea for them not to judge her. And so, he spoke for them all. "We won't tell anyone, Aunty. We promise." Aamir and Ali nodded in silent agreement, their own guilt a heavy burden. They had been too slow, too careless, and now their friend's mother was paying the price for their inaction. They had failed her, and that was a debt they could never repay.

The air in the garage was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of a secret that would bind them together forever. They knew that if they spoke of what had happened here, it would only bring more pain to Nabila, more scrutiny and judgment from a world that was all too eager to cast blame. And so, they made a pact, a sacred vow of silence that would hold them together through the dark days ahead.

Days turned into weeks, and Nabila worked tirelessly to put the pieces of her shattered life back together. She threw herself into her work, her smile a mask that never quite reached her eyes. But with each passing day, the mask grew a little more convincing, the cracks a little less visible. Imran watched her, his heart heavy with the burden of what he had seen, the burden of knowing that no matter how much he wished he could, he couldn't take away the pain she carried.

The three friends, Aamir, Ali, and Gopi, were a constant presence in their lives. They had seen Nabila at her most vulnerable, and that had changed their relationship forever. They became protectors, confidants, and in a way, the sons she never had. They were there for her when Imran couldn't be, their friendship a balm to her soul. They never mentioned that day in the garage, their silent support a testament to their loyalty and the depth of their feelings.