Adultery Wife's Submission to husband's Enemy(updated 16/06/26)

[joyeity]

Bro, waiting for your nice update. Many days have passed. Please

[Hotgiri]

Awaiting for update bro

[Ayush01111]

UPDATE OF REVENGE PLEASE

[girrich9486]

Bro, waiting for your nice update. Many days have passed. Please

Thankyou

[girrich9486]

Awaiting for update bro

Sure I will update

[joyeity]

Waiting for your nice update

[xbiilove]

For believing vikram over husband, vikram should make her a prostitute

[jiljilrani]

Will she now turn against karthik for her new found love and help vikram destroy karthik

[Ayush01111]

Update

[Suresh@123]

Yes nice story. Pls continue...

[girrich9486]

Waiting for your nice update

Thank you

[girrich9486]

For believing vikram over husband, vikram should make her a prostitute

Thsnkyou

[girrich9486]

Will she now turn against karthik for her new found love and help vikram destroy karthik

Ya.. Thank you..

[girrich9486]

Update

Sure bro

[girrich9486]

Shailaja’s Betrayal Plan
Shailaja couldn’t sleep that night. Karthik came home after one hour, exactly as he said. He found her in the red Banarasi saree, no panty, waiting on the bed like an obedient wife. He didn’t speak much. He just pushed her face down, lifted the heavy silk, and fucked her ass hard and fast while calling her “Vikram’s leftover slut.” She screamed loud for him, came twice, but in her mind she kept seeing Vikram’s face.
The next morning, after Karthik left for office, she made her decision.
She opened a new number on a secondary SIM she had bought months ago for “office work.” Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Unknown Number: Karthik has clear videos of Navya. Hotel room. Face, saree, mangalsutra, him fucking her ass and cumming on her face. He plans to use them to destroy you on Friday. I don’t want more destruction. Meet me today 3 PM. Coffee shop near MG Road metro. Alone. Come in black shirt.
She sent it and immediately blocked the number from her main phone. Her heart was hammering. She was betraying her husband. But something inside her — dark, wet, hungry — needed Vikram safe. Needed him strong.
Vikram replied within ten minutes from a new number: I’ll be there.
At 2:50 p.m. Shailaja reached the small, quiet coffee shop. She wore a simple maroon salwar kameez — modest outside, but she had put on black lace bra and panty underneath. Her pussy was already damp with fear and excitement.
Vikram arrived at 3:02. Black shirt, dark jeans, sunglasses. He looked calm but his eyes burned when he saw her. They sat in a corner booth.
“Talk,” he said quietly.
Shailaja spoke fast, voice low. “Karthik is obsessed. He fucked Navya twice. He has videos — very clear. He wants to make you watch while he ruins her in front of you. Then he wants to make me watch too. I… I don’t want this war anymore. But he won’t listen.”
Vikram’s jaw tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”
Shailaja looked down at her coffee. Her thighs pressed together.
“Because… I still think about you,” she whispered. “The way you fucked me. The ice. Your cock. I hate it… but my body doesn’t. I need you to stop Karthik without destroying him completely. Please.”
Vikram was silent for a moment. Then a slow, dangerous smile appeared.
“You’re wet right now, aren’t you?”
Shailaja bit her lip and nodded once.
He leaned forward. “Prove your loyalty. Send me the videos Karthik has of Navya. Everything. Then I’ll reward you properly.”
Shailaja’s hands shook as she transferred the hidden folder from Karthik’s backup cloud link (she had secretly copied it weeks ago). She sent everything — 12 videos and 40 photos — to Vikram’s new number.
Vikram checked his phone. His eyes darkened with anger and lust.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now go to home. I will tell next plan.. " He told to shailaja and went silently..


Vikram sat in the dim light of his penthouse, whiskey glass in hand, staring at his phone. The message from the unknown number had come that afternoon. Then the files — 12 videos and dozens of photos. He had opened the first one with cold rage already burning in his chest.
It was his sister Navya.
His beautiful, married, innocent sister — on her knees in a hotel room, red kurti pushed up, black lace panties around her ankles. Karthik’s thick cock buried deep in her pussy from behind. Her face was turned toward the camera, eyes glassy with lust, mouth open in a long moan: “Karthik… fuck me harder… AHHH!”
Vikram’s grip tightened on the glass until it nearly cracked.




The first clip opened.
Navya in the hotel room. Her red kurti was pushed up to her neck. Her fair, smooth belly and deep navel were exposed. The black lace bra was unhooked, her full, round breasts bouncing freely. Mangalsutra — the sacred symbol of her marriage — hung between those heaving tits, swinging with every thrust. Karthik was behind her, gripping her wide hips, slamming his thick cock into her pussy.
Navya’s face filled one corner of the screen — eyes half-closed in shameful pleasure, full lips parted, moaning loudly: “Karthik… oh god… your cock is so big… deeper… AHHH!”
Vikram’s jaw clenched. He took a long sip of whiskey, eyes locked on the monitor. He paused the video and zoomed in.
Navya’s breasts — perfect C-cups, dark nipples hard and erect — jiggled hypnotically with each powerful thrust from behind. The mangalsutra beads clicked against her skin. Her waist was narrow, flaring into wide, soft hips that Karthik was slapping red. Her expression was pure filthy ecstasy — eyebrows furrowed, mouth open in a continuous moan, tongue slightly out.
“Fuck…” Vikram muttered. His 10-inch cock twitched and started rising in his pants. He was angry — furious — but the sight of his own sister getting destroyed like this was disturbingly mesmerizing.
He played the next clip.
This one was Navya on her back, legs wrapped around Karthik’s waist. The camera was close — showing every detail. Her pussy lips stretched tight around Karthik’s thick shaft. Wet, obscene sounds filled the penthouse speakers. Her boobs bounced wildly up and down, jiggling in circles. Mangalsutra danced between them, sometimes sticking to her sweaty skin. Navya’s head was thrown back, screaming: “Yes… fuck me harder… ruin your enemy’s sister… AAAAAAHHHH! I’m cumming… on your cock… AHHH!”
Vikram leaned forward, eyes glued. He replayed this part three times. Slow motion. Her breasts looked so soft yet firm, nipples begging to be sucked. Her stomach flexed with every deep thrust, navel glistening with sweat. The way her thighs quivered when she came — squirting a little around his cock — made Vikram’s own cock fully hard. Ten thick, veined inches stood straight up, leaking pre-cum onto his lounge pants.
He poured another whiskey. The glass felt cool against his hot palm.
Clip after clip.
Navya riding Karthik — cowgirl position. Her ass cheeks spreading as she bounced, pussy swallowing his cock again and again. Boobs jiggling heavily. She held her own breasts, pinching nipples, moaning, “Karthik… your enemy’s sister is your slut now… AHHH! Look how my tits jump for you!”
Vikram watched it on loop. He was mesmerized. The anger mixed with dark arousal. His sister looked so damn hot — innocent face twisted in lust, married body betraying her completely. The mangalsutra made it filthier. Every time it swung and hit her bouncing breasts, Vikram felt a twisted throb in his cock.
He stroked himself slowly while watching the next one — the first anal.
Navya on all fours, face down, ass up. Karthik pushing in slowly. Her scream was raw: “No… too big… it hurts… AHHHH!” Then pleasure took over. She started pushing back. “Don’t stop… fuck my ass… AAAAAHHH!” Her boobs hung and swung like pendulums. Mangalsutra dangling. Sweat dripping from her forehead. Expression of pure broken ecstasy.
Vikram stroked his massive cock faster. Pre-cum dripped down the shaft. He replayed the moment Navya came in her ass — body shaking violently, screaming Karthik’s name.
He came hard the first time — thick ropes shooting across his own stomach while staring at his sister’s face in orgasm.
But he didn’t stop. He cleaned up, poured more whiskey, and kept watching. Again and again. All 12 videos. Dozens of photos. Close-ups of Navya’s cum-covered face, tongue out, mangalsutra sticky with semen. Her gaping pussy and ass after rough fucking. Her satisfied, guilty smile at the end of one clip.
Hours passed. Vikram was drunk, hard again, and coldly determined.
“That bastard trapped her,” he thought, eyes still on the frozen image of Navya’s jiggling breasts. “Built trust, seduced her loneliness, recorded everything. Now I have copies… but not the originals. He must have backups. Cloud. Pen drive. Hidden folders. I need every single file. Total control. Then Karthik becomes my puppet again. No power left. He will watch me fuck his wife every week while I own him.”
The plan crystallized.

He poured another whiskey and leaned back.
How did this happen? he thought.
Karthik had played it smart. Jogging park friendship. Gentle talks. Listening to Navya’s loneliness while her husband was abroad. Then the slow seduction — hotel, kisses, then rough fucking. He had recorded everything. Clear HD. Navya’s face, her wedding mangalsutra, her screams, her orgasms. Enough to destroy her marriage, her reputation, her life.
Vikram’s jaw clenched. “You trapped my sister like a cheap whore,” he muttered. “Now I will trap your wife… and make you watch her become my permanent slut.”
His revenge plan formed quickly, cold and perfect.
He would not rush. He would use Shailaja — who had already betrayed her husband by sending these files. She was the key. Weak for his cock. Guilty but addicted. He would reward her, bind her deeper, then use her to lure Karthik into a trap where he would lose everything.
Vikram smiled darkly. He would make Karthik feel the same humiliation — but ten times worse.


Shailaja was the key. She had already betrayed Karthik once by sending these files. She was weak for his cock. Addicted. Guilty but dripping. He would use her body, reward her, and make her steal the originals.
Vikram sent the message.



Vikram leaned back on the wide leather couch in his penthouse, the large monitor still frozen on the image of Navya’s breasts jiggling wildly as Karthik fucked her from behind. Her mangalsutra was swinging like a pendulum between those soft, bouncing tits, her face twisted in shameful ecstasy. His 10-inch cock was half-hard again just from the memory of the clips. The whiskey glass sat beside him, half empty.
He picked up his secret phone and typed a short message to Shailaja’s hidden number.
Vikram: Call me. Now.
He waited exactly thirty seconds. His phone rang. Shailaja’s name (saved as “Office Supply” on this burner) flashed on the screen.
He answered on the third ring, voice low, calm, and dripping with dark authority.
“Hello, my love… my personal slut.”
On the other end, Shailaja was in her bedroom. Karthik was still in the shower. She had locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed, heart hammering, thighs already pressing together. Just hearing his deep voice made her pussy clench.
“Vikram…” she whispered, voice shaky.
“I saw all the videos and photos you sent me,” he continued smoothly. “Every single one. My sister looks so fucking hot when she’s getting ruined, doesn’t she? Those big tits bouncing, that mangalsutra swinging while your husband pounds her married cunt and ass. Tell me honestly — did you copy those files… or did you send me the originals?”
Shailaja swallowed hard. Her nipples were stiff against her thin nightie. She bit her lip, speaking slowly, almost guiltily.
“I… I copied them, Vikram. Not the originals. Karthik still has the master files on his personal laptop and his second phone. I couldn’t find the passwords. I tried… but if I push too much he will suspect. I wanted to delete everything for you… but I couldn’t.”
Vikram let out a low, satisfied chuckle. His cock twitched fully hard now, tenting his lounge pants.
“Good girl,” he praised, voice like velvet over steel. “Very good girl. You’re learning fast how to betray your husband for me. Now listen carefully. Will you help me get all the original videos and pictures? Everything. I want total control.”
Shailaja’s breathing quickened. She could feel herself getting wet. The shame burned, but the thrill was stronger.
“Yes… sure,” she whispered. “I will help you, Vikram. I’ll find a way.”
There was a short silence. Then Vikram’s tone turned darker, more commanding.
“And will you help me ruin your husband completely… by letting me fuck you whenever I want? In front of him. On camera. Making you scream my name louder than you ever screamed his. Turning you into my permanent married whore.”
Shailaja went completely silent. Her free hand unconsciously slipped between her thighs, pressing against her damp panty. The conflict tore at her — Karthik’s face, their marriage, the life they built… versus the memory of Vikram’s thick cock stretching her, the ice on her clit, the way he made her cum until she cried.
“Tell me, my slut,” Vikram ordered, voice firm. “Say it clearly.”
She stayed quiet for almost ten seconds, breathing ragged. Finally, in a very small, trembling voice:
“Okay… But please don’t spoil him completely, Vikram. Don’t destroy his career or our life. He is still my husband…”
Vikram’s laugh was low and cruel.
“Shut up, my bitch. If you help me get those original files, I will fuck you senseless and give you more pleasure than your pathetic husband ever could. Ice in your cunt and ass, my cock in every hole, making you beg like the desperate whore you are. You already betrayed him once. Don’t act innocent now.”
Shailaja moaned softly into the phone despite herself. Her fingers had slipped inside her panty and were circling her swollen clit.
“Okay… I will do it, Vikram. I will do whatever you want. I will help you get the originals… and… I will let you fuck me in front of him if that’s what you need.”
Vikram groaned with satisfaction, stroking his massive cock slowly through his pants.
“Good girl. Such an obedient little slut. You’re already wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“Yes…” she admitted breathlessly. “I’m touching myself right now… thinking of your cock.”
“Keep touching. But don’t cum until I allow it,” he commanded.





Vikram tossed the phone aside and leaned back on the couch, still slowly stroking his rock-hard 10-inch cock. The penthouse was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. On the monitor, Navya’s frozen image stared back at him — her face in mid-scream, tits bouncing, mangalsutra shining with sweat as Karthik fucked her.
He replayed the phone conversation in his head, smiling darkly.
“She’s completely mine now,” he thought. “She will betray her own husband step by step. First the copies, then the originals. Once I have every single video and photo in my hands, Karthik loses all power. No more threats. No more revenge from his side. He becomes my puppet.”
Vikram closed his eyes and imagined the future.
He would make Shailaja seduce Karthik into opening the laptop, note every password. Or drug his drink one night and copy everything while he slept. Once the originals were in Vikram’s possession, he would delete every backup remotely. Then the real revenge would begin.
He would call Karthik to the penthouse one final time. Force him to watch as Vikram stripped Shailaja in the red Banarasi saree, pushed ice cubes deep into her pussy and ass, and fucked her mercilessly on the same bed. He would make Shailaja look straight into her husband’s eyes and scream:
“Your cock is nothing compared to Vikram’s… I helped him steal all your videos of Navya because I need his thick cock more… I’m his slut now… AAAAAAHHHH!”
Vikram stroked himself faster, pre-cum leaking over his fist.
He would make Navya watch too — perhaps even join, turning her anger into lust, making Karthik lick her pussy while Vikram bred Shailaja.
After that, permanent control. Weekly calls. Shailaja coming to him whenever he wanted — sometimes making Karthik drop her off and wait in the car like a driver while Vikram fucked her for hours with ice, plugs, and rough anal. Karthik would be forced to thank him every time.
Vikram groaned as he imagined Shailaja riding him cowgirl style, her heavy breasts bouncing exactly like Navya’s in the videos, mangalsutra swinging, screaming his name while Karthik knelt beside the bed watching helplessly.
His hand moved faster. The fantasy built.
He would record new videos — Shailaja admitting everything on camera. Then keep all the leverage: Navya’s originals + new ones of Shailaja. Total domination.
Vikram came hard — thick, powerful ropes shooting across his chest and stomach while he growled Shailaja’s name.
He lay there panting, staring at the ceiling with a cold, satisfied smile.
“You trapped my sister, Karthik. Now I will trap your wife… body, mind, and soul. She will help me destroy your power, then spread her legs for me every week while you watch. Once I have those original files, the game ends. And I win completely.”
He cleaned himself, poured another whiskey, and opened the videos of Navya again. This time he watched them with fresh hunger — planning every detail of how he would use Shailaja to bring her own husband to his knees.
Meanwhile, in their apartment, Shailaja lay on the bed, flushed and aching. Karthik came out of the shower, smiling at her.
“You look hot tonight,” he said, climbing over her.
Shailaja smiled weakly and opened her legs for her husband. But in her mind, she was already in the parking lot tomorrow, wearing the red saree, ready to moan Vikram’s name and promise to betray the man currently kissing her neck.
The war had a new, very willing soldier on Vikram’s side.
And the pleasure she would receive for her betrayal was going to be worth every bit of guilt.



To be continues

[oxy.raj]

Poor Karthik... He will get betrayed again for trusting his wife blantly... Could he dugest humiliation?

[joyeity]

Mind-blowing update. Thanks a lot

[Rakul1985]

Good one. None of them wants to loose. It will be 4some

[Ayush01111]

Bro need full revenge mode on from both side and let kartik win every thing when vikram think he won every thing

[Thalaidhoni]

Having known she had already betrayed him. Now revenge taken
why karthik would continue to live with this slut