Fantasy Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart

[jaksa]

I need my devika

[Deepika2021]

What happened to Devika

[jaksa]

She's lost
Author taken her away without updating the story

[jaksa]

Looks like I'm the only one waiting for this story and author left the story due to less response
SAD!!!

[jaksa]

Guys atleast suggest me any other similar kind of stories where many men trying for one women!?
Atleast I shall move on from this story....

[xossissippi]

Guys atleast suggest me any other similar kind of stories where many men trying for one women!?
Atleast I shall move on from this story....

Give the author some time dear, he posts one huge update so probably takes time. In the mean time you can read " Ruby - the Wanton Flower " if you already read then apologize.

Both these stories are really good and explore the taboo concept of very hot and beautiful women exploring their kinky sides and where lot of people have plans for her ;)

[jaksa]

Give the author some time dear, he posts one huge update so probably takes time. In the mean time you can read " Ruby - the Wanton Flower " if you already read then apologize.

Both these stories are really good and explore the taboo concept of very hot and beautiful women exploring their kinky sides and where lot of people have plans for her ;)

Thanks for suggesting the story 
I have read this but not like this one 
Devika story is top notch

[exbiixossip2]

next update bro... with a i pics

[unknownperson]

Any update on this author???

[jaksa]

Any update on this author???

No response from author probably left the story 

[jaksa]

Story dropped?

[Thilka]

Author Give update

[prady12191]

[deleted]

[prady12191]

[prady12191]

Devika stepped into her empty apartment, the morning light streaming through the windows failing to dispel the heaviness settling in her chest. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, eyes closing as the weight of the previous night crashed down upon her consciousness.

Sex. Real sex.

Not the careful touching and intimate favors she'd rationalized away with Pathan in the lab. Not the mouth-to-mouth feeding and stolen kisses with Seenu. Not even the bold encounter where she'd pleasured Vishnu with her mouth in the boys' toilet. Those had been transgressions, certainly—boundary violations that would horrify the woman she'd been when she first arrived in Pune.

But last night was different.

Last night, she had crossed the final line.

Her legs carried her to the bedroom where she sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the mattress as memories flooded back with crystalline clarity. Dattu's weathered hands on her body. Vishnu's younger, more aggressive touch. The way they'd looked at her—not as a professor or even as a woman, but as their shared possession.

Wife. Mother.

The roles she'd played with disturbing ease.

Devika's hands trembled as she unwound her saree, the fabric sliding away to reveal skin marked with evidence of the night's activities. Faint bruises on her hips where fingers had gripped too hard. A love bite on her inner thigh that would need careful concealing. Her body told the story her mind struggled to process.

The first time she'd had sex since arriving in Pune. The first time she'd been with anyone except her cheating husband Rajeevan in years. And instead of it being a moment of careful deliberation or passionate romance, it had been crude and overwhelming—two men at once, father and son, in a cramped apartment that smelled of engine grease and desperation.

She walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower with mechanical precision. As steam began to fill the small space, her mind replayed the worst detail—the one that made her stomach clench with conflicting emotions.

Vishnu's fingers. Her ass.

Devika had never allowed Rajeevan to touch her there in all their years of marriage. It had been an unspoken boundary, a line she'd drawn without conscious thought. Yet last night, with whiskey clouding her judgment and pleasure overwhelming her defenses, she'd let Vishnu explore that most intimate place.

Let him? Or encouraged him?

The water cascaded over her body as she stepped under the spray, washing away the physical traces while the emotional aftermath clung stubbornly to her psyche. His fingers had pressed inside, testing her resistance, finding none. The sensation had been uncomfortable at first, then...

Then what?

Pleasure? Shame? Both?

She scrubbed at her skin with more force than necessary, angry at herself for not stopping him. Angry that some treacherous part of her body had responded to the invasion. Angry that even now, standing alone in her shower, the memory sent a confusing jolt of arousal through her core.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered to the tiles, her voice lost beneath the sound of running water.

The practical concerns began to surface as she toweled herself dry. Tomorrow—today, actually, given the hour—she would have to walk into that college and face Vishnu. The same student who had fucked her, who had explored parts of her body she'd never offered to anyone, who had watched his own father take her with apparent satisfaction.

How did one make eye contact after that?

How did one discuss biology diagrams and cellular mitosis with someone who knew exactly what sounds you made when climaxing?

Devika dressed in fresh clothes, choosing a modest churidar instead of her usual saree. The cotton felt protective somehow, a barrier between her transformed body and the world's judgment. She made coffee but left it untouched on the counter, her stomach too unsettled to accept anything.

This has to be the first and last time.

The resolution formed clearly in her mind, spoken aloud to the empty kitchen as if saying it would make it true. "First and last. It won't happen again."

But even as the words left her lips, doubt crept in through the cracks of her certainty.

What if Vishnu demanded another encounter? What if Dattu called, his rough voice heavy with expectation? They held power now—the knowledge of what she'd done, what she'd allowed, what she'd enjoyed despite herself. Would they use that knowledge to coerce her? Threaten to tell Seenu, or worse, spread rumors throughout the college?

Her phone sat on the table, its screen dark and silent. No messages from either of them yet, but the day was young.

What if her body betrayed her again?

That question frightened her more than any external threat. Because the most disturbing truth wasn't that two men had seduced her—it was that she had surrendered willingly. Had responded with enthusiasm. Had discovered depths of desire she hadn't known existed within her supposedly proper, conservative self.

Devika paced the small living room, thoughts spiraling in dizzying circles. She needed perspective. Needed someone to help her make sense of what had happened and, more importantly, how to prevent it from happening again.

Saradha.

The name surfaced with inevitable certainty. The senior professor was the only person in Pune who knew even fragments of Devika's complicated entanglements. Saradha had been the one to first suggest embracing male attention rather than fighting it. Her advice had been questionable at best, often pushing Devika toward increasingly risky behavior.

But who else could she tell? Who else would listen without immediate condemnation?

Devika sank onto the sofa, exhaustion finally catching up with her sleepless night. Tomorrow—later today—she would find Saradha in the staff room. Would confess what had happened. Would ask for guidance even knowing the advice might be tainted with Saradha's own twisted perspectives.

She had no other choice.

As dawn light strengthened outside her windows, Devika closed her eyes and tried to summon the courage for whatever came next.

[prady12191]

Across town, the cramped apartment that smelled of engine grease and stale sweat held two men still floating in the aftermath of their shared conquest.

Dattu sprawled on the worn sofa, shirtless despite the morning chill, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he stared at the ceiling with a satisfied grin. Vishnu sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, nursing a glass of water, his expression more contemplative than celebratory.

"She's hot." Dattu broke the silence, exhaling smoke in a lazy stream. "Can't believe she actually allowed both of us."

Vishnu nodded slowly, fingers tracing patterns on the rim of his glass.

"And the way she played along." Dattu's voice dropped to something almost reverent. "Acting like my wife. Your mother." He laughed, harsh and delighted. "What kind of woman does that?"

"The desperate kind." Vishnu's response carried less triumph than observation. "The lonely kind."

Dattu waved his cigarette dismissively. "Don't care what kind. Just care that she did it." He shifted on the sofa, adjusting himself with crude satisfaction. "And that ass..."

Vishnu's eyes lit up at the mention, a slow smile spreading across his face. He brought his fingers to his lips, kissing them with deliberate sensuality before his tongue darted out to lick each digit individually.

"Can't believe she allowed me to finger her ass," he murmured, voice thick with the memory. "Tight. Virgin." Another lick. "She'd never let anyone touch her there before. I could tell."

"You corrupted the biology teacher's backside." Dattu grinned wickedly. "Your professor. How's that feel?"

"Powerful."

The single word hung between them, loaded with implications neither needed to articulate further.

Dattu stubbed out his cigarette with more force than necessary. "You know what the wonderful part was for me?"

Vishnu waited.

"She kissed me all the time. Like a lover." Dattu's weathered face softened momentarily, vulnerability flickering across his features before hardening again. "Not just during—before, after, in between. Like she wanted to."

"Maybe she did."

"Women don't want mechanics." Dattu's voice turned bitter. "Especially not educated Kerala professors. They want doctors, engineers, Dubai businessmen."

"Her Dubai businessman's fucking other women." Vishnu pointed out. "She came to us. Stayed the whole night."

Dattu's grin returned, predatory and confident. "And I fucked her till I was satisfied. Till she was satisfied." He stood, pacing the small room with restless energy. "Can't wait to take her ass next time."

Vishnu's head snapped up. "Next time?"

"What, you think once is enough?" Dattu turned, eyes blazing with renewed hunger. "I need her all day like that. Every day." He moved toward the bedroom where the sheets still bore evidence of their activities. "Need her tomorrow also."

"Tomorrow?" Vishnu set down his glass, standing to face his father. "Don't hurry."

"Why the hell not? She already gave us everything—"

"She might not feel comfortable coming back to us if we keep rushing." Vishnu's tone carried a warning edge, the street-smart calculation that had gotten them this far. "Need to give her time."

Dattu scowled. "Time for what? To change her mind?"

"Time to convince herself she wants this." Vishnu stepped closer, lowering his voice as if Devika might overhear from kilometers away. "Right now she's probably drowning in guilt. Calling herself names. Swearing it was a mistake."

"So?"

"So if we push too hard, she'll run. Report us maybe. Or just disappear back to Kerala." Vishnu's eyes narrowed. "We approach slowly. Win her trust."

"I don't want her trust. I want her body."

"You want her body repeatedly." Vishnu corrected. "Which means playing the long game." He moved to the window, looking out at the dusty street below. "She already crossed the biggest line. Had sex with both of us. Let me explore her ass. Played wife and mother."

"Exactly. So why wait—"

"Because guilt is fragile." Vishnu turned back. "Push too hard and it turns to anger. Self-preservation." He tapped his temple. "But let her sit with it a few days? Let her remember how good it felt? How desired we made her feel?"

Dattu's frustration showed in every line of his weathered face, in the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"She'll come back on her own," Vishnu continued. "Curious. Hungry for more. And when she does, we'll have her completely."

"You're too careful."

"And you're too impatient." Vishnu's voice hardened. "Which one of us planned this whole thing? Got her here in the first place?"

The reminder stung, Dattu's jaw working as he fought against his own base instincts.

"Stay calm," Vishnu ordered, the dynamic between them shifting subtly—son instructing father. "Let her breathe. Process. In a few days, we contact her. Gentle. Concerned maybe. Ask how she's doing."

"And if she doesn't respond?"

"She will." Vishnu's confidence bordered on certainty. "Because for all her guilt, she's also been starving for years. We fed that hunger." He smiled, cold and calculating. "People who've been starving don't forget where the food is."

[prady12191]

The next morning, Devika wrapped her cotton saree with mechanical precision, the fabric settling against her body with familiar weight. She chose a traditional dbang—pallu pinned securely, pleats crisp and modest—as if the conservative style could somehow erase the previous night's transgressions.

But as she moved through her apartment, gathering her teaching materials, she felt it.

The phantom sensation of Vishnu's fingers. There. Inside her. Exploring territory she'd never offered to anyone, not even her husband of years. The memory made her pause mid-step, books clutched against her chest, breath catching in her throat.

"Stop," she whispered to the empty room. "Just stop thinking about it."

The auto-rickshaw ride to college passed in a blur of self-recrimination and conflicting physical sensations. Every bump in the road sent awareness rippling through her body, reminding her how thoroughly she'd been taken. How completely she'd surrendered.

By the time she reached the biology department, Devika had constructed a fragile wall of professional composure. This was just another day. Another lecture. She would walk into that classroom, teach mitosis and meiosis, and absolutely not think about the student in the back row who had—

No. Not thinking about it.

The lecture hall felt smaller somehow as she entered, the familiar rows of desks suddenly intimate and claustrophobic. Students shuffled papers and opened notebooks, their faces showing the typical blend of boredom and mild curiosity that greeted Monday morning classes.

Devika set her materials on the desk, adjusting her saree with hands that trembled slightly. When she finally raised her eyes to scan the room, her gaze snagged immediately on Vishnu.

Last row. Left side. Watching her with an expression that made her stomach clench.

His eyes held hunger, yes—that predatory gleam she'd seen before. But something else lurked there too. Recognition. Possession. A knowing smile that said I've been inside you. I know exactly what you sound like when you come.

Devika's fingers tightened on the chalk.

"Today we'll continue our discussion of cellular reproduction," she began, voice steadier than she'd expected. "Please turn to chapter twelve in your textbooks."

She taught. Explained diagrams. Answered questions about chromosome division and genetic variation. Through it all, she felt Vishnu's stare like a physical touch, sliding along her exposed waist where her saree sat, tracing the curves he'd explored with both hands and mouth just hours ago.

She ignored him.

Didn't meet his eyes. Didn't acknowledge the intensity of his focus. Pretended he was just another student among many, unremarkable and forgettable.

Vishnu's smile faded gradually, replaced by confusion. He shifted in his seat, clearly thrown by her distance. Yesterday she'd played his mother, kissed him with desperate passion, allowed him to violate her most private places. Today she wouldn't even look at him.

But he didn't react. Didn't call out or make a scene. Vishnu understood women well enough to recognize the guilt phase—the morning-after retreat that often followed bold choices made in darkness and desire.

He could wait.

Pathan, seated nearby, simply watched Devika's curves with his usual crude appreciation, oblivious to the charged silence between his friend and their teacher.

The class ended eventually. Students filed out in their typical chaos of scbanging chairs and shuffled papers. Devika busied herself erasing the board, back turned deliberately as Vishnu lingered near the door for several long seconds before finally leaving.

Only when the room emptied completely did she allow herself to breathe.



The staff room felt like sanctuary during lunch hour—or would have, if not for the conversation she needed to have.

Saradha sat at her usual spot near the window, eating homemade dosa from a steel tiffin container. She looked up as Devika approached, eyebrows raising slightly at whatever expression showed on Devika's face.

"Saradha..." Devika hesitated, lowering her voice despite the relative privacy. "Do you have time? I need to talk."

"Of course." Saradha set aside her food, attention sharpening. "What happened?"

Devika sank into the adjacent chair, fingers twisting in her saree's pallu. How did one even begin this confession?

"I had sex," she said finally, the words emerging barely above a whisper.

Saradha blinked. "What?"

"Real sex. The first time since coming to Pune."

"With Seenu?" Saradha leaned forward, eyes widening. "You finally—"

"No." Devika shook her head quickly. "Not Seenu."

"Then who?" Saradha's voice dropped to match Devika's hushed tone, curiosity blazing across her features.

Devika's throat worked silently for several seconds. She forced herself to meet Saradha's eyes. "Vishnu."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with shock.

"Vishnu?" Saradha repeated, as if testing the name for accuracy. "Your student Vishnu? Pathan's friend?"

"Yes."

"But... I told you to seduce them, Devika. Tease them. Keep them hungry but controlled." Saradha's expression shifted from shock to something approaching alarm. "Not to actually—"

"I know what you said." Devika's voice carried a sharp edge. "I always wanted to follow your advice. Seduce men, keep them under control, never lose power. But that night..." She trailed off, shame coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't control it. I allowed Vishnu to take me."

Saradha stared, clearly struggling to process this information. The careful manipulation she'd been coaching Devika toward had apparently exploded into something far messier.

"There's more," Devika continued, each word feeling like pulling teeth.

"More?"

"Not only Vishnu. There was another man."

Saradha's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Who?"

"Dattu."

The name hung in the air like an accusation.

"Dattu?" Saradha repeated blankly. "I don't know any Dattu at the college—"

"He's not at the college. He's..." Devika felt moisture prickling behind her eyes, threatening to spill over. "He's a mechanic. Old. And he's Vishnu's father."

The shock on Saradha's face deepened to something approaching horror. "Wait. You're telling me you had sex with a student and his father? An old mechanic?"

Devika nodded miserably.

"At the same time?"

Another nod.

"Devika..." Saradha sat back in her chair, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "I can't believe this. You—the proper Kerala professor—slept with both of them?"

"Please don't—" Devika's voice cracked. "Don't say it like that."

But Saradha's mind was clearly racing, putting pieces together. "Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning."

Devika drew a shaky breath. "Vishnu stopped coming to class for several days. When I checked on him, he said his father wouldn't allow him to continue college. Dattu—his father—had started drinking heavily again after his wife's death. He wanted Vishnu to quit studies and get a job."

Saradha listened silently, her lunch forgotten.

"I went to talk to Dattu. To convince him to let Vishnu return." Devika's fingers twisted harder in the saree fabric. "He was grief-stricken, drowning in alcohol and memories. I made a deal—I'd visit him on weekends to help with his drinking if he allowed Vishnu to continue his education."

"You visited this old mechanic?" Saradha's tone held disbelief. "Alone?"

"Yes. A few times. Just to talk, serve him tea. I thought I was helping."

"And then?"

"Then Vishnu called. Said it was Dattu's birthday, asked me to come celebrate." Devika's voice dropped lower. "When I arrived, there was no party. No guests. Just the two of them."

Understanding dawned in Saradha's eyes.

"I knew why they'd called me," Devika admitted. "I'm not stupid. But with all the fighting with Rajeevan, with his cheating... I wanted company. Someone who made me feel desired instead of disposable."

"So you stayed."

"I stayed."

The confession settled between them like a stone.

Saradha shook her head slowly. "Lucky Pune guys. Getting a young, educated Malayali woman like you."

"Don't mock me," Devika protested weakly.

"I'm not mocking. I'm amazed." Saradha's expression shifted to something more complex—disapproval mixed with grudging admiration. "Did you like it? The moment itself?"

Heat flooded Devika's face. "I... yes. But afterward, the guilt—"

"Because of your husband?"

"Because of my husband. My family. Everything I was raised to believe."

Saradha's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Stop thinking about that cheating bastard in Dubai. He's fucking other women while you sit here drowning in guilt. You're free now, Devika. Free to do whatever you want."

The words hit harder than expected, forcing a small smile through Devika's distress.

"I still can't believe it," Saradha murmured. "A wealthy, educated Kerala woman sleeping with both a student and his mechanic father. It's like something from those trashy novels."

"Please don't say it like that—"

"Did you like Dattu?" The question cut through Devika's protest.

Devika blinked, thrown by the shift. "What?"

"I mean when you slept with him. How was it?"

"I'm shy to tell—"

"Tell me anyway."

Devika's throat worked silently. "He's old. His skin is wrinkled, belly soft with age. But his..." She struggled with the word.

"What?"

"His dick." The crude term felt foreign on her tongue. "It's strong. Big. Tight inside me."

Saradha's eyebrows shot up.

The conversation was simulating Devika in ways she hadn't expected. She'd come seeking advice to escape this situation, but talking about it openly made everything feel more real and somehow more arousing.

"Bigger than your husband?" Saradha pressed.

Devika laughed despite herself—a sharp, bitter sound. "I thought Rajeevan was big. Until I felt Dattu inside me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt like a virgin again. He filled me completely."

Both women laughed then, the sound carrying an edge of hysteria.

"Did you suck their dicks?" Saradha asked, shameless in her curiosity.

Devika nodded, cheeks burning.

"Both of them are lucky," Saradha breathed. "Feeling your tongue on their precum-filled cocks."

The explicit language should have shocked Devika. Instead, she felt her body responding with treacherous heat.

"Saradha..." She hesitated. "Have you ever experienced anal sex?"

Saradha shook her head. "Never. Only seen it in adult movies. Why—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Did they take your ass too?"

"No," Devika said quickly. Then, after a pause: "But Vishnu fingered me there. First one finger. Then two. Then three."

The shock on Saradha's face was almost comical.

"You let him explore your ass?" Saradha's voice rose slightly before she remembered to keep quiet. "Devika, don't you understand what they're doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're training you." Saradha leaned forward urgently. "Preparing you for anal sex. They won't leave you alone until they've taken that virginity too."

"No." Devika shook her head firmly. "It won't happen again."

"You don't know these Pune men like I do." Saradha's expression turned grim. "They won't stop until they've made you their regular fucking partner. And next time..." She paused for emphasis. "Next time they'll try to double penetrate you."

"Double penetrate?" Devika's voice came out strangled.

"One in your pussy, one in your ass. At the same time."

The image sent a confusing jolt through Devika's body—part horror, part unwanted arousal.

"Do you want to enjoy them again?" Saradha asked bluntly.

"Strict no," Devika insisted. "Absolutely not."

Movement in the hallway caught Saradha's attention. Her gaze shifted to the staff room entrance where Vishnu passed slowly, his eyes finding Devika through the open door. The hunger in his expression was unmistakable.

"There goes your loving son," Saradha murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "The one who explored his mother's ass so thoroughly."

"Stop it!" Devika hissed, swatting at Saradha's arm. "This is your fault anyway, always pushing me to—"

"My fault?" Saradha interrupted. "I told you to tease, not fuck!"

"You told me to embrace male attention. To use my body as power."

"Not to spread your legs for every man who looked at you twice!"

They glared at each other for a heated moment before the absurdity hit them both. Devika felt laughter bubbling up despite everything—bitter, half-hysterical laughter that spilled out in quiet gasps.

"This is impossible," she whispered. "All of it."

"You created this mess," Saradha pointed out. "Now you have to deal with it."

"How? How do I deal with this?"

Saradha's expression softened slightly. "Stay away from them. Both of them. Don't go back to that apartment, don't respond to calls or messages. Eventually they'll understand you're serious."

"And if they don't?"

"Then you'll have to make harder choices." Saradha's voice turned grave. "Report them maybe. Or leave Pune entirely."

The thought of leaving made Devika's chest tighten with unexpected resistance. Despite everything—the harassment, the guilt, the impossible complications—Pune had become something to her. A place where she could be someone other than the neglected wife waiting for scraps of attention from Dubai.

"I can't leave," she said quietly.

"Then you need to be stronger than you've been." Saradha reached across the space between them, squeezing Devika's hand briefly. "No more weakness. No more allowing men to seduce you with a few compliments."

Devika nodded, though doubt gnawed at her resolve.

Through the staff room window, she could see students milling about the courtyard. Vishnu stood among them, talking with Pathan, his eyes occasionally drifting toward the building where Devika sat.

Watching. Waiting.

Remembering.

"I should get back to work," Devika murmured, pulling her hand away from Saradha's grasp.

"Be careful," Saradha warned. "These men won't forget what you gave them so easily. They'll push for more."

"I know."

But as Devika gathered her things and prepared to face the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable truth lodged in her chest like a splinter:

Part of her wanted them to push.

Part of her wanted to surrender again.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

[prady12191]

[sadlura]

So darn erotic and beautiful. Thank you

[prady12191]

Devika left the staff room with her mind churning, a tempest of guilt and confusion that made her steps unsteady. The memory of her conversation with Saradha followed her like a shadow—each explicit question, each shameful confession hung in the air around her. She clutched her teaching materials closer to her chest as if they might shield her from the consequences of her actions.

She had barely rounded the corner when she heard footsteps quickening behind her.

"Professor Devika."

The voice sent an electric current through her body. She didn't need to turn to know who it belonged to.

Vishnu.

Her shoulders tensed as she continued walking, pretending not to hear him. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would take the hint and leave her alone. But the footsteps grew closer, more insistent.

"Professor, please. Just a moment."

Devika stopped but didn't turn around. Students and faculty passed them in the corridor, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between teacher and student. She couldn't create a scene here.

"I need to go to my next class," she said quietly.

Vishnu moved around to face her, his expression a carefully crafted mask of concern. But his eyes—those eyes held the same hunger she'd seen in the lecture hall earlier. Possession. Knowledge. Desire.

"It will only take a minute," he pleaded, voice pitched low enough that passing colleagues couldn't hear. "Please."

Devika glanced at her watch, a convenient excuse to avoid his gaze. "Make it quick."

He gestured toward an empty classroom nearby. Devika hesitated—entering a private space with him seemed dangerously unwise—but the alternative was having this conversation in the corridor where anyone might overhear.

With reluctance weighing each step, she entered the empty room. Vishnu followed, leaving the door partially open—a small courtesy that did little to ease her anxiety.

"Is something wrong?" he asked immediately, his tone solicitous.

"No. Why would there be?"

Vishnu shifted his weight, feigning uncertainty that didn't match the calculation in his eyes. "You seem... different today."

"I have work to do." Devika edged toward the door. "If that's all—"

"Why are you avoiding me?" The question was direct, his voice dropping to something intimate and familiar—the voice he'd used while inside her.

"I'm not avoiding anyone."

"You wouldn't even look at me during class."

Devika felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I was teaching, Vishnu. I don't stare at individual students."

His hand moved suddenly, reaching behind her. Before she could step away, his palm cupped her ass, fingers pressing with deliberate knowledge.

"Is it paining inside?" he whispered.

Shock froze her for a heartbeat before outrage surged through her veins. Devika slapped his hand away, her voice a harsh whisper as she glanced anxiously at the partially open door.

"How dare you touch me like that! This is a college, not a—" She cut herself off, unwilling to name what had happened between them.

Vishnu raised his hands in surrender, though his eyes remained unapologetic. "Sorry, sorry. I was just concerned." His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "Next time I'll be gentler. In a couple of days, the pain will fade away completely."

His words carried an intimate knowledge of her body that made Devika's stomach clench with conflicted emotion.

"Then next time," he continued, "you won't feel any pain at all."

"There won't be a next time," Devika said firmly, finding strength in Saradha's earlier advice. "Don't expect that from me again."

Something flickered across Vishnu's features—disappointment, perhaps, or calculation. It passed quickly, replaced by a careful neutrality.

"Fine," he said with a small shrug. "But did you enjoy that night? With me and my father?"

"I need to go." Devika moved toward the door. "This isn't appropriate to discuss here."

"Please." His hand caught her wrist, not forceful but insistent. "Just tell me—did you enjoy yourself?"

The raw hunger in his question made her pause. There was something almost vulnerable beneath his boldness, a need for validation that pierced through her defenses.

"Yes," she admitted finally, voice barely audible. "I enjoyed it. I hope you both did as well. That's enough—we all enjoyed ourselves mutually." She pulled her wrist free from his grasp. "Now let's stop this."

A smile spread across Vishnu's face, satisfaction and triumph mingled in equal measure. "I'm happy to hear that." He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Dattu can't forget the way you kissed him. Like a real lover. The way you fucked—"

"Enough!" Devika hissed, glancing anxiously toward the door. "This is completely inappropriate."

"Sorry," Vishnu said, though his expression held no remorse. "I just wanted you to know how much it meant to him."

Devika didn't reply. Couldn't form words through the storm of emotions cascading through her chest. With a final warning glare, she turned and walked away, feeling Vishnu's eyes follow her every step.

In the empty classroom, Vishnu watched her retreating figure, savoring the sway of her hips beneath the modest dbang of her saree. The fabric couldn't hide what he now knew lay beneath—curves he had explored with both hands and mouth, territory he had claimed with his fingers.

A low moan escaped his throat, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear.

She had enjoyed it. She had admitted it aloud.

That admission was all he needed—the confirmation that despite her protests, despite her resolve to end things, part of her had been awakened. That part wouldn't easily return to slumber.

Devika's path down the corridor was a battlefield of emotions. Each step took effort, each breath seemed insufficient for the panic rising in her chest. Vishnu's words echoed in her mind, bringing unwanted images with them. Dattu remembering her kisses. Both men recounting her pleasure, her surrender.

She ducked into the women's bathroom, grateful to find it empty. Bracing herself against the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The same face looked back at her—the same eyes, nose, lips—yet something fundamental had changed. The woman who had first arrived in Pune would never recognize this version of herself.

What had she become? What was she becoming?