Fantasy The Teacher Who Knelt to maid Son

[Batni123]

Radha started a dangerous game which she will lose to her student and he will be going to be her master forever story is having a great start..Show Nikhil a dominanting character.....slow seduction will be good...Make Radha regret her decision.....she started a serious game which she cannot end..... expecting the update soon....going to be one of the best story...

thanks for appreciation

[Batni123]

I will not extend this strory for months it will be long and will be completed by this sunday but I was waiting for more suggestions and comments. Unfortunately views are there but no intractions if you guys share ideas it would be great

[Batni123]

Chapter Seven: Day 6 – Saturday, 23 May 2020
(The day the queen put the crown back on)
Radha woke at 5:47 a.m.
She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling fan, feeling the ghost of yesterday’s nakedness on her skin.
Then she rose, showered in ice-cold water, and dressed like she was going to war.
Steel-grey cotton saree, starched until it could cut paper.
High-neck, long-sleeved blouse, every hook fastened, every pleat perfect.
Hair twisted into the tightest bun she had ever worn, held with six steel pins.
A thick line of sindoor, a large black bindi, no jewellery except the mangalsutra (worn like a warning sign).
She looked in the mirror and saw exactly what she needed the world to see today:
Mrs. Radha Mehta, Head of Mathematics, terror of St. Xavier’s, the woman who could make a boy cry with one raised eyebrow.
Yesterday had happened.
Today it would be buried under six inches of ice.
Nikhil rang the bell at 9:15 a.m. exactly (on time, terrified of being late).
Lakshmi opened the door, smiling.
Radha stood in the corridor like a statue, arms folded, ruler already in her hand.
“Living room. Now. Page 312. Probability.
You will solve every question. If I see one careless mark, you will write the entire chapter fifty times. Begin.”
Nikhil walked past her, head down, heart hammering.
He had spent the night replaying the panty moment in slow motion, coming twice just from memory, certain that today the game would continue.
Instead he got the old Radha Ma’am (colder, stricter, more terrifying than ever).
She stood behind his chair exactly as she had in college, ruler tapping against her palm.
Every time he hesitated, the ruler tapped the table beside his hand (sharp, threatening).
Every time his eyes flicked up to her face, she met them with an expression that could freeze blood.
No smile.
No secret glance.
No acknowledgement that yesterday he had seen her naked from the waist down.
Nothing.
At 11:30 a.m. Lakshmi brought tea.
Radha took the tray without a word, placed one cup in front of him, and said only:
“Drink. Then back to work.”
Their fingers did not brush.
Lunch was the same.
Lakshmi chattered.
Radha answered in single syllables.
Nikhil ate in silence, eyes on his plate, every bite tasting like ash.
Every time he accidentally looked at her, she stared back until he dropped his gaze.
By 4:00 p.m. he had solved three chapters without a single break.
His hand cramped.
His back ached.
His cock had been half-hard all day from proximity and terror, and now it felt like punishment.
At 5:45 p.m. Radha finally spoke more than five words.
“Pack your books. You’re done for the day.”
He stood, legs stiff.
He waited (half hoping, half dreading) for some sign, some whisper, some hint that yesterday had been real.
She gave him nothing.
She walked him to the door, opened it, and said in the exact same voice she had used since Class 5:
“Tomorrow is Sunday. Come at 10 a.m. sharp. Revision test. Three hours. No excuses.”
The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
Nikhil stood in the corridor outside, heart sinking.
The game was over.
She had changed her mind.
All the clothes, the panty, the open legs (it had been lockdown madness, and now she was ashamed).
His fantasies (the ones where she knelt, where she begged, where she let him do everything he had ever imagined) collapsed like a house of cards.
He walked home with his mother, head down, the weight of fourteen years of fear settling back on his shoulders.
Tomorrow would be just another tuition day.
The queen had put her armour back on, and the boy who had dared to dream was punished for it.
Inside the flat, Radha leaned against the closed door, eyes closed, breathing slow and deliberate.
She had been ice all day because she had to be.
Tomorrow the ice would melt.
Tomorrow, when Lakshmi left at 1:30 p.m.,
the armour would fall,
and the boy who thought the game was over
would discover it had only just begun.
She smiled (small, secret, dangerous) into the empty corridor.
Tomorrow he would learn that the strictest teacher in St. Xavier’s
had only been strict today
so that tomorrow’s surrender would taste even sweeter.

[Rocky@handsome]

Chapter Seven: Day 6 – Saturday, 23 May 2020
(The day the queen put the crown back on)
Radha woke at 5:47 a.m.
She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling fan, feeling the ghost of yesterday’s nakedness on her skin.
Then she rose, showered in ice-cold water, and dressed like she was going to war.
Steel-grey cotton saree, starched until it could cut paper.
High-neck, long-sleeved blouse, every hook fastened, every pleat perfect.
Hair twisted into the tightest bun she had ever worn, held with six steel pins.
A thick line of sindoor, a large black bindi, no jewellery except the mangalsutra (worn like a warning sign).
She looked in the mirror and saw exactly what she needed the world to see today:
Mrs. Radha Mehta, Head of Mathematics, terror of St. Xavier’s, the woman who could make a boy cry with one raised eyebrow.
Yesterday had happened.
Today it would be buried under six inches of ice.
Nikhil rang the bell at 9:15 a.m. exactly (on time, terrified of being late).
Lakshmi opened the door, smiling.
Radha stood in the corridor like a statue, arms folded, ruler already in her hand.
“Living room. Now. Page 312. Probability.
You will solve every question. If I see one careless mark, you will write the entire chapter fifty times. Begin.”
Nikhil walked past her, head down, heart hammering.
He had spent the night replaying the panty moment in slow motion, coming twice just from memory, certain that today the game would continue.
Instead he got the old Radha Ma’am (colder, stricter, more terrifying than ever).
She stood behind his chair exactly as she had in college, ruler tapping against her palm.
Every time he hesitated, the ruler tapped the table beside his hand (sharp, threatening).
Every time his eyes flicked up to her face, she met them with an expression that could freeze blood.
No smile.
No secret glance.
No acknowledgement that yesterday he had seen her naked from the waist down.
Nothing.
At 11:30 a.m. Lakshmi brought tea.
Radha took the tray without a word, placed one cup in front of him, and said only:
“Drink. Then back to work.”
Their fingers did not brush.
Lunch was the same.
Lakshmi chattered.
Radha answered in single syllables.
Nikhil ate in silence, eyes on his plate, every bite tasting like ash.
Every time he accidentally looked at her, she stared back until he dropped his gaze.
By 4:00 p.m. he had solved three chapters without a single break.
His hand cramped.
His back ached.
His cock had been half-hard all day from proximity and terror, and now it felt like punishment.
At 5:45 p.m. Radha finally spoke more than five words.
“Pack your books. You’re done for the day.”
He stood, legs stiff.
He waited (half hoping, half dreading) for some sign, some whisper, some hint that yesterday had been real.
She gave him nothing.
She walked him to the door, opened it, and said in the exact same voice she had used since Class 5:
“Tomorrow is Sunday. Come at 10 a.m. sharp. Revision test. Three hours. No excuses.”
The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
Nikhil stood in the corridor outside, heart sinking.
The game was over.
She had changed her mind.
All the clothes, the panty, the open legs (it had been lockdown madness, and now she was ashamed).
His fantasies (the ones where she knelt, where she begged, where she let him do everything he had ever imagined) collapsed like a house of cards.
He walked home with his mother, head down, the weight of fourteen years of fear settling back on his shoulders.
Tomorrow would be just another tuition day.
The queen had put her armour back on, and the boy who had dared to dream was punished for it.
Inside the flat, Radha leaned against the closed door, eyes closed, breathing slow and deliberate.
She had been ice all day because she had to be.
Tomorrow the ice would melt.
Tomorrow, when Lakshmi left at 1:30 p.m.,
the armour would fall,
and the boy who thought the game was over
would discover it had only just begun.
She smiled (small, secret, dangerous) into the empty corridor.
Tomorrow he would learn that the strictest teacher in St. Xavier’s
had only been strict today
so that tomorrow’s surrender would taste even sweeter.

"Incredible story plot!"❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I think it's high time Nikhil takes full control—dominant, confident, and in charge—making Radha crave and beg for his touch. But please, don’t turn it into BDSM; that would ruin the sensuality. He should give Radha the kind of pleasure she’s been deprived of all these years. Also, let Nikhil fulfill his fantasy of hearing Radha whisper,—
"I'm Nikhil's whore," in the privacy of their room.

Regards 

Rocky ❤️

[readersp]

awesome writing!!!

[Batni123]

"Incredible story plot!"❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I think it's high time Nikhil takes full control—dominant, confident, and in charge—making Radha crave and beg for his touch. But please, don’t turn it into BDSM; that would ruin the sensuality. He should give Radha the kind of pleasure she’s been deprived of all these years. Also, let Nikhil fulfill his fantasy of hearing Radha whisper,—
"I'm Nikhil's whore," in the privacy of their room.

Regards 

Rocky ❤️

that's the plan bro. bsdm is not my type deep emotional humiliation will be there. but both will enjoy. but power transition will be gradual as this is something Nikhil would have never thought he have his sexual fantasies but he will be fullfilling it with Radha he never imagined.

[Batni123]

awesome writing!!!

Thanks for appreciation

[Batni123]

Interlude: The Night After Day 6
Saturday, 23 May 2020 – 10:52 p.m. to 4:19 a.m.

Nikhil’s room was a small, stuffy box at the end of the service balcony, separated from the main flat by a thin plywood door that never quite closed right.
The air smelled of his mother’s cooking and the faint, lingering dampness of Mumbai’s endless monsoon season, even though the rains had stopped months ago.
He lay on his thin cotton mattress, shirtless in the heat, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other hand clenched into a fist against his stomach.

The day had been a slow, deliberate torture.

Radha Ma’am had been worse than ever.
Not just strict—cruel, in that quiet way she had always been best at.
The ruler tapping like a countdown to execution.
The voice that could turn a boy’s blood to ice.
The eyes that met his only to look through him, as if yesterday had been a fever dream she had already forgotten.

He had waited all day for a sign.
A glance that lingered too long.
A word whispered when Lakshmi turned her back.
Something to say, *It’s still real. The panty, the legs open, the way I let you look—it wasn’t a mistake.*

Nothing.

By 5:45 p.m., when she had dismissed him with “Pack your books. You’re done,” he had felt the last thread snap.

It’s over.

She regretted it.
The moment the panty hit the floor, shame had flooded her.
Today was her way of erasing it, of rebuilding the wall between teacher and student before it crumbled completely.

Tomorrow’s revision test would be the final nail.
Three hours of her sitting across from him, ruler in hand, voice like frost, eyes saying *Forget it ever happened.*

His chest ached with something sharper than disappointment—humiliation, the kind that burned slow and deep.
He had dared to believe, for one stupid afternoon, that the woman who had terrorised him for fourteen years wanted him to see her naked.
Wanted him to look between her legs and not look away.

And now?
Now he was just the same frightened boy who used to stand outside the staff room holding his ears.

He rolled onto his side, pressed his face into the pillow, and let the tears come hot and silent.

*Stupid. So stupid.*
*She’s thirty-six, married, a teacher. You’re nineteen, her student, the maid’s son. It was lockdown boredom. That’s all.*

The fantasies that had kept him up for two nights (her on her knees, her mouth open, whispering his name) twisted into something ugly.

Now he imagined her tomorrow:
Looking at him with pity.
Saying, *Yesterday was a mistake. It never happened.*

He curled tighter, the ache in his chest spreading to his throat.

Across the thin wall, in the master bedroom, Radha sat cross-legged on the edge of the king-size bed, the sheet pulled up to her waist like a shield.
The room smelled of jasmine incense and the faint, metallic tang of her own anxiety.

She had been ice all day because she had to be.

But now, alone in the dark, the mask cracked.

She hugged her knees to her chest, rested her forehead against them, and let the truth spill out in whispers.

*What am I doing?*

Yesterday she had crossed a line she could never uncross.
The panty on the floor.
The way his eyes had widened, hungry and terrified at once.
The way her body had throbbed under that gaze, freer than it had felt in years.

She had wanted it.
Wanted the humiliation of being naked in front of the boy she had ruled with fear.
Wanted to see if he would dare to take what she offered.

But today, seeing the hope flicker in his eyes only to stamp it out herself, she had felt something new: guilt.

He was so young.
Nineteen, yes, but still the boy who used to tremble when she raised her voice.
Still the boy whose mother scrubbed her floors.

What if tomorrow he froze?
What if the power she had handed him was too heavy, and he dropped it like a hot coal?

Or worse: what if he took it, and it changed everything forever?

She lifted her head, stared at the shadowed wall where her husband’s photo hung (smiling in his navy uniform, oblivious).

There was no turning back.

But she could control the pace.

She decided, there in the quiet, that tomorrow she would test him first.

Casual.
Natural.

She would ask about Ludo over breakfast, when Lakshmi was in the kitchen.
“Still playing board games to pass the time?”
Watch his eyes.
See if the spark was there, or if today’s ice had doused it.

If he looked away, if he stammered “No, Ma’am,” then she would let it die.
Let the panty moment be the end, a secret shame she would carry alone.

But if his eyes lit up (if he swallowed hard and whispered “Yes”), then she would know.

Then, when Lakshmi left at 1:30, she would walk in wearing only the navy saree, nothing underneath.
Stand in the doorway.
Let it fall just enough to remind him.

And then… she would wait.

Let him decide if he wanted to touch, to lead, to take.

She was the teacher who had knelt in her mind a thousand times already.
She could wait one more day to see if the student would dare to rule.

She lay back, pulled the sheet over her, and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she would check the waters.

Tomorrow she would know if the boy who had once feared her
was ready to own her.

Or if the game had ended before it truly began.

The night stretched on, hot and uncertain.

Two people, ten metres apart, both wide awake, both terrified of the same question:

What happens when the door closes tomorrow… and the pretending finally ends?

Nikhil whispered into his pillow one last time, voice breaking:

*It’s over. She’s done with me.*

Radha whispered into the dark, voice steady but small:

*Tomorrow, baby. Show me if you want it too.*

Neither knew the other was awake.

Neither knew how wrong they were.

[JohnS112]

Chapter Seven: Day 6 – Saturday, 23 May 2020
(The day the queen put the crown back on)
Radha woke at 5:47 a.m.
She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling fan, feeling the ghost of yesterday’s nakedness on her skin.
Then she rose, showered in ice-cold water, and dressed like she was going to war.
Steel-grey cotton saree, starched until it could cut paper.
High-neck, long-sleeved blouse, every hook fastened, every pleat perfect.
Hair twisted into the tightest bun she had ever worn, held with six steel pins.
A thick line of sindoor, a large black bindi, no jewellery except the mangalsutra (worn like a warning sign).
She looked in the mirror and saw exactly what she needed the world to see today:
Mrs. Radha Mehta, Head of Mathematics, terror of St. Xavier’s, the woman who could make a boy cry with one raised eyebrow.
Yesterday had happened.
Today it would be buried under six inches of ice.
Nikhil rang the bell at 9:15 a.m. exactly (on time, terrified of being late).
Lakshmi opened the door, smiling.
Radha stood in the corridor like a statue, arms folded, ruler already in her hand.
“Living room. Now. Page 312. Probability.
You will solve every question. If I see one careless mark, you will write the entire chapter fifty times. Begin.”
Nikhil walked past her, head down, heart hammering.
He had spent the night replaying the panty moment in slow motion, coming twice just from memory, certain that today the game would continue.
Instead he got the old Radha Ma’am (colder, stricter, more terrifying than ever).
She stood behind his chair exactly as she had in college, ruler tapping against her palm.
Every time he hesitated, the ruler tapped the table beside his hand (sharp, threatening).
Every time his eyes flicked up to her face, she met them with an expression that could freeze blood.
No smile.
No secret glance.
No acknowledgement that yesterday he had seen her naked from the waist down.
Nothing.
At 11:30 a.m. Lakshmi brought tea.
Radha took the tray without a word, placed one cup in front of him, and said only:
“Drink. Then back to work.”
Their fingers did not brush.
Lunch was the same.
Lakshmi chattered.
Radha answered in single syllables.
Nikhil ate in silence, eyes on his plate, every bite tasting like ash.
Every time he accidentally looked at her, she stared back until he dropped his gaze.
By 4:00 p.m. he had solved three chapters without a single break.
His hand cramped.
His back ached.
His cock had been half-hard all day from proximity and terror, and now it felt like punishment.
At 5:45 p.m. Radha finally spoke more than five words.
“Pack your books. You’re done for the day.”
He stood, legs stiff.
He waited (half hoping, half dreading) for some sign, some whisper, some hint that yesterday had been real.
She gave him nothing.
She walked him to the door, opened it, and said in the exact same voice she had used since Class 5:
“Tomorrow is Sunday. Come at 10 a.m. sharp. Revision test. Three hours. No excuses.”
The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
Nikhil stood in the corridor outside, heart sinking.
The game was over.
She had changed her mind.
All the clothes, the panty, the open legs (it had been lockdown madness, and now she was ashamed).
His fantasies (the ones where she knelt, where she begged, where she let him do everything he had ever imagined) collapsed like a house of cards.
He walked home with his mother, head down, the weight of fourteen years of fear settling back on his shoulders.
Tomorrow would be just another tuition day.
The queen had put her armour back on, and the boy who had dared to dream was punished for it.
Inside the flat, Radha leaned against the closed door, eyes closed, breathing slow and deliberate.
She had been ice all day because she had to be.
Tomorrow the ice would melt.
Tomorrow, when Lakshmi left at 1:30 p.m.,
the armour would fall,
and the boy who thought the game was over
would discover it had only just begun.
She smiled (small, secret, dangerous) into the empty corridor.
Tomorrow he would learn that the strictest teacher in St. Xavier’s
had only been strict today
so that tomorrow’s surrender would taste even sweeter.

Awesome …amazing plot…please continue…

[Batni123]

guys finally the battle ground is is ready exchange of power.... not only Radha I also want to know weather u guys want to know further or not

[Rocky@handsome]

guys finally the battle ground is is ready exchange of power....  not only Radha I also want to know weather u guys want to know further or not

Please continue!! Don't break the rhythm Bro!! 

❤️

[Batni123]

Please continue!! Don't break the rhythm Bro!! 

❤️

I will....

[Batni123]

expecting huge response till tonight

[readersp]

Amazingly written!!! Please continue!!!

[Kore shivkant]

Contine the good work Batni.....don't stop....... Make Nikhil her owner....and it is good to see the updates regularly......continue the story as long as possible...... Humiliate Radha and make Nikhil to take his revenge without second thoughts.....make Nikhil play with her mangalsutra......

[Kore shivkant]

expecting huge response till tonight

Your story is going great and it will be the one of the stories of this site......continue your story...... expecting a update tonight   .....no need to worry you will surely get a huge response

[Batni123]

be ready guys update is on the way
two update will be there. so please get ready with your personal satisfaction stuff.
one more thing any older ladies if reading this please DM me for guidance in future course of action.

[Batni123]

### The Queen Who Knelt
Chapter Eight: Day 7 – Sunday, 24 May 2020
**The Last Game (Part One: The Bet)**

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the dining room like a reluctant witness, casting long, lazy shadows across the teak table where so much had already been lost. It was 8:45 a.m., and the flat hummed with the ordinary sounds of Sunday: Lakshmi clattering pots in the kitchen, the distant call of a koel from the neem tree outside, the faint whir of the ceiling fan struggling against the Mumbai heat that had already begun to thicken the air.

Radha Mehta sat at the head of the table in a simple cream cotton saree, the fabric light but dbangd with the precision of someone who knew how to command a room without saying a word. Her hair was in its usual severe bun, a single strand escaping to curl against her temple like a secret she hadn't decided to keep yet. The mangalsutra rested against her collarbone, a quiet reminder of the life she had built—and the one she was about to risk dismantling.

Nikhil sat to her right, his notebook open but untouched, a half-eaten idli on his plate. He had arrived at 9:00 a.m. sharp, his face pale under the fluorescent light, eyes darting to her and away like a moth afraid of the flame. The events of Friday lingered between them like smoke: the panty folded neatly on the table, the way her thighs had parted just enough to let him see, the electric silence that had followed. He had spent Saturday convinced it was over, a fever dream crushed by her ice. Now, sitting here with Lakshmi's cheerful humming in the background, he felt the hope flicker back to life—fragile, desperate, impossible.

Radha sipped her filter coffee, black and bitter, and set the cup down with a soft clink that made him jump. Her voice was steel wrapped in silk, the same tone that had once silenced an entire class of rowdy boys.

"Nikhil," she said, eyes fixed on her plate as if discussing the weather, "today is revision day. Test from 9:30 a.m. sharp until 12:30 p.m. No breaks. No questions. Every chapter from probability to integration. If you score below ninety percent, you will rewrite the entire module by hand. Understood?"

Nikhil's fork froze midway to his mouth. The idli dropped back onto his plate with a wet smack. His stomach twisted, the old fear rising like bile—the fear of disappointing her, of the ruler's sharp crack against his knuckles, of standing outside the staff room while his classmates snickered. He could feel his pulse in his throat, his hands starting to sweat against the tablecloth. *She's back,* he thought, panic blooming. *The game's over. Yesterday was a mistake. She's punishing me for even thinking it was real.*

"Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes dropped to his plate, the half-eaten idli blurring as his vision swam. He shivered, a full-body tremor he couldn't hide, the chair creaking under him.

Radha's gaze flicked to him for the briefest second—long enough to see the fear etched in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him from falling. Inside, her heart clenched. *Good,* she thought, the word tasting like ash. *He's still afraid. That means he cares enough to be afraid.* But the sight of him shrinking back twisted something deep in her chest. She had spent fourteen years building that fear, and now it was both her weapon and her chain. *One more hour of this,* she told herself. *Just until the test is done. Let him think it's over. Let him stew. Then... then I'll see if he's brave enough to want more.*

Lakshmi bustled in with fresh chutney, oblivious to the tension coiling around the table like smoke. "Beta, eat properly. Test ke liye dimag sharp rakhna padta hai." She ruffled Nikhil's hair affectionately, her calloused fingers lingering a moment too long, as if sensing the storm in his eyes.

Radha nodded curtly. "Clear the table in five minutes. Nikhil, your paper is ready."

The next three hours passed in a haze of ink and dread.

Nikhil sat at the dining table under the merciless glare of the tubelight, pen scratching across the question paper like a condemned man signing his confession. Radha sat opposite him, ruler in hand, eyes scanning every line he wrote. Lakshmi moved through the flat like a ghost—sweeping the balcony, chopping vegetables in the kitchen, hanging wet laundry on the line outside—her presence a constant, suffocating reminder that there was no escape, no privacy, no way to ask if yesterday had been real.

Nikhil's mind was a war zone.
*Why is she doing this?* The questions blurred on the page. *Did I imagine the panty? The way she sat with her legs open? The way she looked at me like she was waiting?* His hand shook on the pen, leaving a smudge on the integration problem. Radha's ruler tapped once—sharp, warning. He flinched, erasing frantically. *She's punishing me. For staring. For wanting. It's over. God, it's over.* Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto the paper. He glanced up once, met her eyes—cold, unyielding—and looked away, stomach churning. *Please, Ma'am. Say something. Anything.*

Radha watched him from across the table, her face a mask of indifference, but inside she was a storm of calculation and longing. *He's breaking,* she thought, the ruler heavy in her hand. *Good. Let him break a little. Let him feel the fear I felt when I slid that panty down yesterday.* Her thighs pressed together under the table, the memory of his gaze still burning between them. *But not too much. If I push too hard, he'll shatter completely and run.* Lakshmi's footsteps padded past the door, carrying a basket of laundry, and Radha's pulse spiked. She forced her breathing even, focused on Nikhil's hunched shoulders. *He's interested. I saw it in his eyes at breakfast. The way he shivered wasn't just fear—it was hope. Tomorrow, when she's gone... I'll test it. The Ludo board. If he says yes, we resume. If he says no... it's over.* The thought made her chest ache, but she held the line. *Patience. One more hour.*

At 12:30 p.m., the clock on the wall chimed softly, and Radha collected his paper without a word. Nikhil sat frozen, hands folded in his lap, waiting for the verdict—the score that would either crush him or confirm the end.

Lakshmi was in the kitchen, the sound of running water and clinking plates a distant hum.

Radha took the paper to the sofa, sat with her back straight, and marked it in red ink, line by line. The silence stretched, broken only by the scratch of her pen and Nikhil's shallow breaths. He stared at his hands, knuckles white, mind screaming: *Ninety percent. Please let it be ninety percent. Don't let her have a reason to hate me more.*

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen.

Radha set the pen down, looked at the total at the bottom: 96%.

A small, genuine smile tugged at her lips—the first crack in the ice all day.

She looked up at him, voice softening just a fraction, like sunlight breaking through clouds.

"Nikhil."

He flinched, eyes snapping to hers.

"You scored ninety-six percent. Excellent."

The word hung in the air. Nikhil blinked, the praise landing like a lifeline in a storm. His shoulders sagged, a shaky breath escaping. *She said excellent. Like she used to, before... before.* Relief flooded him, warm and dizzying, but it was chased by the old fear: *But what now? Is that it?*

Radha leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, low enough that Lakshmi's kitchen noises would drown it out.

"You did well. What do you want in return? A day off? Extra marks on your next test?"

Nikhil's mouth opened, closed. His mind raced—*A day off? Extra marks?*—but the words stuck. He wanted to say *You. Yesterday. Please, Ma'am, don't let it be over.* But the fear clamped down, turning it to ash in his throat.

Before he could force a sound out, Radha's eyes held his, steady and knowing. She leaned in a fraction more, the saree rustling softly.

"Or... would you like to resume the Ludo game? Where we left off?"

The world tilted.

Nikhil's face ignited. The flush started at his collar and raced up to his ears, his eyes widening like a dam breaking. *She said it. She said Ludo. She remembers. It's not over.* Relief crashed through him, hot and dizzying, his heart slamming so hard he was sure she could hear it. A glow spread across his features—the boyish, desperate hope he had buried under Saturday's ice. His lips parted, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corners.

Radha watched it happen, the tension in her chest uncoiling like a spring. *There it is,* she thought, a wave of quiet triumph washing over her. *He's interested. He wants it.* The sight of his face lighting up—vulnerable, eager, alive—made her own pulse quicken. *Good. He's ready. Or at least, he's willing to try.* She kept her expression neutral, but inside, the plan solidified: *When Lakshmi leaves, the board comes out. Slow. Let him set the rules this time. See how far he dares to go.*

Nikhil didn't hesitate. The words tumbled out in a rush, voice cracking but steady with need.

"Yes, Ma'am. Please."

Radha's smile deepened, just a fraction—enough to make his breath catch. She leaned back, folding her hands in her lap, the picture of composed authority.

"We'll start when Lakshmi leaves. At one-thirty. Be ready."

Lakshmi called from the kitchen then, "Didi, lunch tayyar hai!" and the moment shattered like glass.

The hours until 1:30 p.m. dragged like chains.

Nikhil sat in the living room, pretending to revise, but his mind was a whirlwind. *It's happening. Again. The game. The clothes. Her.* His hands shook as he turned pages he wasn't reading, the memory of her panty on the table burning behind his eyes. *What if she stops at the blouse this time? What if she lets me touch?* The uncertainty gnawed at him, fear and excitement twisting into a knot in his gut.

Radha moved through the flat like a ghost in her own home, helping Lakshmi with lunch, folding laundry, her thoughts a careful calculus. *He's eager. That's good. But he's still frightened—I saw it in his eyes at breakfast.* She glanced at him once from the kitchen doorway, saw the way he hunched over the book, shoulders tense. *Let him stew a little longer. When she leaves, I'll remind him. The board. The pile. Then the rules. Slow. Let him win the first one. See if he dares to take the blouse off me himself.* The thought sent a shiver down her spine, equal parts dread and thrill. *No turning back now. Either he steps up, or I pull the plug. But God, I hope he steps up.*

At 1:25 p.m., Lakshmi wiped her hands on her sari, slung her bag over her shoulder, and kissed Radha's cheek. "Didi, one hour, pakka. Sharma aunty ka flat pehle, phir Gupta ji ka."

"Go," Radha said, voice warm for Lakshmi, but her eyes flicked to Nikhil. "We'll be fine."

The door clicked shut. The chain slid home.

The flat fell into a silence so thick it pressed against the walls.

Radha turned to Nikhil, who had risen from the sofa, eyes wide, breathing shallow.

"Set the board," she said, voice even, as if discussing homework. "And take off whatever you've lost. I'll be right back."

Nikhil's hands trembled as he opened the cupboard, pulled out the dusty Ludo box, and carried it to the dining table. The pile from Friday still sat there, untouched—her saree, petticoat, panty on top like a crown. His briefs were the only thing he had left, and he hesitated, glancing toward the bedroom door. *She's coming back. In what? Nothing?* He stripped down to the grey cotton, the fabric tenting immediately, and sat, heart pounding.

In the bedroom, Radha stood before the full-length mirror, breath coming in short bursts. She had planned this. The same sleeveless cream blouse from Friday, no bra underneath—the fabric thin enough to hint at her nipples if she moved just right. She dbangd the navy saree loosely around her hips (no petticoat, no panty), the pallu thrown over one shoulder. The pile of yesterday's losses—saree, petticoat, panty—sat on the chair like evidence she was about to bury.

She gathered them in her arms, the white panty soft against her skin, and walked back to the living room.

Nikhil's eyes locked on her as she entered, the board half-set, his briefs straining. *She's in the blouse again. The saree. But the pile... she's bringing the pile.* Relief flooded him, hot and dizzying. *The game's resuming. Finally. It's real.*

Radha placed the pile on the table beside the board, the panty landing on top with a soft thud. She sat opposite him, the saree rustling against her bare skin underneath.

Nikhil's throat worked. "Ma'am... the rules?"

Radha met his eyes, her voice calm but laced with something deeper, something that made his stomach flip.

"As we both are left with only one clothing, we will play two games. In the first, the loser takes off their last piece. Then, if they lose again..." She paused, letting the words hang, watching his face for the flicker of understanding. "The winner owns the loser for the next seven days—alone time only, when Lakshmi is not here. Winner gives orders. Loser obeys without question. Safe word is still 'red'. If I win, you remain my frightened student for one more week. If you win... I become yours completely for seven days. Agreed?"

The room seemed to shrink. Nikhil's mind blanked for a heartbeat, the words sinking in like stones in water. *Owns. Orders. Seven days. Hers completely.* His face flushed, but for the first time, his voice came out steady, almost strong.

"Agreed, Ma'am."

Radha rolled first. A three.

The game unfolded in tense, deliberate moves. Nikhil's hands shook on the dice, but his eyes never left her face. *She's serious. The blouse. Then... everything.* Radha played carefully, but a bad roll sent her token home too early.

She lost the first game.

Silence.

Radha stood slowly, fingers going to the hooks of the cream blouse. One by one, they came undone—the sound like tiny gunshots in the quiet room. The fabric parted, revealing her heavy breasts, nipples already stiff in the air-conditioned chill. She shrugged it off, folded it neatly, and placed it on the pile.

Now she sat opposite him completely naked, the mangalsutra resting between her breasts like a brand. Her skin flushed under his gaze, but she held her chin high, legs crossed under the table, the saree long gone.

Nikhil's breath caught, his briefs tenting painfully. *She's naked. Completely. And she lost the first one. If I win the second... she said it. Owns her. For seven days.* The thought made his head spin, fear and desire crashing like waves. *But what if I lose? Back to student. Frightened. Nothing.* He rolled, heart in his throat.

Radha played well this time—calculated, almost aggressive—but a string of bad luck sent her tokens scattering. Nikhil's last green token slid home.

He won the second game.

The silence was deafening.

Radha sat back, her naked breasts rising and falling with each breath, the mangalsutra catching the light. Her face was a mask of composure, but inside, her pulse thundered. *I lost. Both. He owns me now. Seven days.* The thought sent a shiver through her, equal parts terror and thrill. *He's looking at me like he can't believe it. Good. Let him feel the power. But will he take it? Or will he freeze, like the boy I made him?*

Nikhil stared, frozen, the board forgotten. His mind was a storm: *I won. She's naked. She said it—owns her. Orders. For seven days.* Panic clawed at him—heart slamming, mouth dry, instinct screaming to look away because this was wrong, a teacher, naked, waiting. *This isn't real. Pinch yourself.* He did, hard on his thigh under the table. The pain was sharp. She was still there, still naked, still looking at him with those eyes that had once made him cry. Guilt flooded in—*She's married. My teacher and a wife. I'm the maid's son. Hell for this.* But the desire drowned it, blood rushing south, his briefs too tight, the sight of her breasts, the dark patch between her legs, the wetness he could almost smell short-circuiting everything. *If I do nothing, she'll think I'm weak. Useless. The game ends forever.* Terror of disappointing her hit hardest—the same fear from fourteen years of her ruler.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. He was a trembling statue: eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly open, breath shallow, hands gripping the table edge, flush racing from chest to ears.

Finally, his voice cracked out, barely audible, trembling like a leaf in wind:

"M-Ma'am... are... are you sure?"

The words hung, fragile as glass.

Radha's breath caught, her naked skin prickling under his gaze. *There it is,* she thought, heart pounding. *The fear. The doubt. He's still the boy I broke.* But underneath the terror in his voice was something new—hunger, raw and real. *He's asking because he wants to believe it. Good. That's the crack.* The silence stretched another beat, her breasts heaving with the weight of it all. *This is the moment. No armour. No turning back. Show him.* She leaned forward slightly, voice soft but certain, eyes locking on his.

"I'm sure, Sir."

The word *Sir* landed like a spark on dry tinder.

Nikhil's world tilted. The power shifted—not with a roar, but with a whisper. The boy who had flinched at her voice for fourteen years now held the woman who had made him flinch, naked and waiting, calling him by a title that made his cock throb and his hands shake.

The game was over.

The surrender had begun.

[readersp]

Simply superb!!! Just wow!!!

[Rocky@handsome]

Wow!! Amazing!! It's getting more and more interesting!! You are just rocking!!! Keep Coming Bro!!
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️