Episode 28 : The Unexpected Visitor
After Chotu left, I felt very tired. Every muscle ached deliciously, reminding me of Chotu’s hungry hands, his eager mouth, and his relentless rhythm. I stretched slowly, feeling the soreness between my thighs, and a smile crept across my lips despite the weight settling in my chest.
I didn’t know when sleep claimed me. About two hours later, Bikram entered without knocking, a cup of tea in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming over my bare form with quiet satisfaction.
“You need to be ready for more adventure today. I have already bought and prepared chicken for you,” he said softly, handing me the tea. “Today is the last day. Tomorrow Rohan will arrive.”
I took a sip, the warmth spreading through me.
“I know, but my body needs some rest. When did you go to the market?”
“While you were asleep. I have kept the main door open so that you can continue to pursue your fantasy of being with Sunny or all his roommates. Yesterday, when you stopped in front of Sunny’s apartment, I knew what you wanted. But I was confused—did you want a single session with Sunny or a session with all his roommates?”
I smiled but didn’t reply.
“Bikram, I am angry with you for exposing me to Bineet yesterday night.”
“Don’t worry, Shelly. Everything is under control,” Bikram said.
“I think you have taken enough rest,” he continued, his fingers tracing my collarbone. “Shelly, I still need some money. Otherwise, I won’t be able to hand over what’s expected from the car rental earnings.”
“How much more do you need?”
Bikram’s eyes met mine, unblinking.
“I need a minimum of five thousand for three days.”
“Bikram, that’s too much.”
“One guy is ready to pay three thousand for an hour with you. That will solve our problem.”
I set the cup down, my stomach knotting.
“I’ve already done it with Chotu because I promised him, and he was eager to pay. Why don’t you solve your problem yourself this time?”
“Whatever the reason,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve already been a paid whore. And you like it too much.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my tongue. He was right. I had surrendered. I had allowed Chotu to use me, and I had felt that strange, intoxicating freedom in being owned. I couldn’t deny it anymore.
But at the same time, I couldn’t allow Bikram to take complete control of me.
“I already said I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I replied. “But who is he?”
“The security guard. Bineet,” Bikram said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “He agrees to keep silent, and he’ll pay three thousand for one hour with you.”
My heart lurched.
Bineet—the young guard whose eyes had lingered on me when I dried clothes on the balcony, whose gaze had burned into my skin when I stepped out half-naked. I remembered the way he looked at me, shy but hungry, like a boy seeing something forbidden.
“Bikram, he’s just a boy—”
“Old enough to want you. Old enough to pay.”
Bikram’s hand slid down my stomach, his fingers brushing my skin. I swallowed hard, my body responding despite my hesitation. The thought of those curious hands on me and his shy eyes drinking in my nakedness sent a shiver down my spine.
Although the proposal appealed to me, I had another plan in mind.
For the past two days, I had been with Bikram, but today was the last day. I needed some space and freedom. More importantly, I wanted to show Bikram that he was not in complete control of me.
“You’d better go and drive the car yourself. People may start to suspect something if you stay in this room with me for another day. They may even inform Rohan.”
I didn’t know whether his decision was driven by urgency or whether he was intentionally giving me some freedom.
“I am going now,” he said. “I’ll be back by four this evening. And while you’re alone, make sure you cheat on your husband while he’s out working.”
He gave me a knowing smile. He knew exactly what those words would do to me. In our strange little fantasy, Bikram had become my husband, and the idea of “cheating” on him was part of the game—a forbidden thought he deliberately planted in my mind.
“Also, take your wardrobe key,” he added before walking away.
I watched him leave and drive away from the window., but to my surprise, I saw him meet Bineet, who was not wearing his uniform. Bikram handed something to Bineet—probably money. Perhaps Bikram had already taken an advance for me.
I stood there silently, watching them disappear from view, wondering what exactly Bikram had planned for my final night.
As Bikram left, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Something about Bineet stirred a desire in me that I had never fully understood. Perhaps it was his youth, his nervousness, or simply the fact that he belonged to a world so different from mine. Men like him—security guards, watchmen, ordinary men I would normally barely notice—had begun to fascinate me.
And then there was Bikram's voice in my mind. He had made me understand the strange thrill of doing something forbidden, something that felt almost like cheating while my husband was away.
I knew it was dangerous to think this way. Yet that danger was precisely what made my heart beat faster.
I wasn't simply being carried along by circumstances anymore. A part of me wanted this—and admitting that to myself was both frightening and intoxicating.
Thirty minutes passed, I didn't realise when my fingers move to my pussy as I was feeling aroused again.
I rose slowly, my legs still shaky, and walked to the bathroom. The mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized—hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes dark with a hunger I couldn't name.
I showered quickly, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. When I stepped out, I dried myself but didn't reach for my clothes. Bikram's rule echoed in my mind: naked for all housework. And I had already started liking being naked.
I stood before the bedroom door, naked, my skin still damp, my hair dripping onto my shoulders.
I heard someone's voice from the living room, followed by the sound of the front door opening.
“Shelly Madam.”
Bikram had not closed the door. I had been just as foolish for not closing it myself.
My heart hammered as I stepped out in anticipation as early as possible, wearing only a cotton kurti which I found quickly, with no bra or panties underneath.
Bineet stood near the doorway. He was wearing his uniform, his cap clutched nervously in his hands. I had seen him from a distance before, but today he was very close. I observed him more carefully and realized he was young—maybe nineteen or twenty—with wide, earnest eyes that widened further when he saw me.
I stopped in the middle of the room, suddenly conscious of his gaze. The air between us thickened.
“Madam,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.
I looked at him. “Did Bikram take money from you?”
“He did,” Bineet replied. “But he returned it.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I wanted to warn you, Shelly Madam. Bikram is not a good man.”
I frowned.
“You know Rupam? He’s from the same area where I live. He had already told me about you. Bikram took ₹1,000 from me for the show involving you last night. You need to be careful with him. He may push you for more. And I know Bikram is blackmailing you.”
Suddenly, the whole game Bikram had been playing became clear to me. How had he found the courage to expose me in full view on the balcony? How had he been so confident that everything was under control? It had all been planned.
But I didn’t tell Bineet the truth about the blackmail. I had always been a willing participant in this strange game, even though I understood that Bikram was taking advantage of the situation.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said calmly. “I know how to handle Bikram. Why don't you just enjoy your time with me?”
Yet a strange doubt had begun to form in my mind. I pushed it aside. I knew how to deal with Bikram, and I also knew I could walk away from the game whenever I wanted.
I drew Bineet closer, and he understood what I wanted without another word. The conversation faded into the background as the intimacy between us took over.
For the moment, I decided not to think about Bikram, Rupam, or the warning I had just received.
“But, Madam…” Bineet seemed about to say something..
“Shh,” I said. “No names. Just enjoy.”
Bineet's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He stepped forward, his movements hesitant, like a boy approaching something sacred.
I didn't move. I let him explore.
I glanced at Bineet's uniform and smiled faintly.
“Why did you come here wearing your uniform?” I asked.
He looked slightly embarrassed. “I have to report for duty at 3 p.m. I might not get enough time to go back to my room and change.”
I nodded, understanding. “So you came straight here?”
“Yes, Madam.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I looked toward the bedroom. “You can make yourself comfortable.”
Bineet hesitated before stepping inside. I followed him, closed the door.
His nervousness returned. He looked away for a moment, then slowly met my eyes again "Can I... can I see you? All of you?"
I smiled as a strange tenderness rose in my chest "You already had."
“You don't have to be nervous,” I said softly.
“I've never been in a situation like this before,” he admitted.
I smiled. “Then stop thinking so much.”
He nodded, still visibly unsure, while I watched him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
I pulled him toward me. His hands found my waist, pulling the kurti up, baring my skin once more.
"Close the door properly," I whispered against his mouth. "And don't worry about Bikram. I'll handle him."
Bineet closed the bedroom door, and for a moment, we just stood there, breathing together. Then his hands found my shoulders, pressing me gently onto the bed.
He blushed, but his hands didn't stop,
Bineet's hands slid under the cotton, finding my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, working his way down. When he reached my stomach, he paused, looking up at me.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded, my heart pounding. "I'm sure."
He pulled the kurti over my head, leaving me naked beneath him. His uniform was rough against my skin as he pressed his body against mine. His hand slid between my legs, finding me wet and ready, and I moaned as his fingers explored me slowly.
"You're so responsive," he breathed. "So ready."
"Because I want this," I said, my hips rising to meet his hand. "I want you."
"I've dreamed of this," he whispered against my neck. "Of touching you. Of tasting you."
I stepped closer to Bineet and gently took hold of his uniform jacket.
“Let me,” I whispered.
I slipped the jacket from his shoulders and placed it neatly on the chair. Bineet stood quietly, watching me with nervous anticipation.
My fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, I opened them slowly and deliberately, then eased the shirt from his shoulders.
His body was lean, still carrying the softness of youth, his chest smooth, his hips narrow. His cock stood hard and eager, and I felt my mouth water as he crawled over me.
“You're still nervous,” I teased softly.
“A little,” he admitted.
He guided me back onto the bed, his fingers laced with mine, and I went willingly, my own hands working at his belt, his trousers, until we were both naked, skin to skin. His cock pressed against my thigh, thick and eager.
I looked into his eyes for a moment.
“Better?” I asked.
Bineet nodded, unable to hide his smile.
His hand reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against my waist.
His touch grew bolder, sliding up my ribs, cupping my breast. His thumb circled my nipple, and I heard his breath catch.
He stepped closer, his body inches from mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slid down my stomach, between my legs, and I gasped as his fingers found me wet and ready.
"You're so..." he started, but words failed him.
He kissed me then—clumsy, eager, his lips soft against mine. I opened for him, let his tongue find mine, tasted his youth and desperation. His hands roamed my body, exploring every curve, every hollow, as if memorizing me.
His lips found my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, each kiss slow and reverent. He took his time, tasting every inch of my skin, as if he wanted to remember this forever. His fingers traced patterns on my thighs, teasing but never rushing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my stomach. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
"Thank you, Bineet, for the compliment,” I said, and reached down, guiding his face lower, and he understood. His tongue found my clit, soft at first, then more confident as my moans encouraged him. He lapped at me like a man starved, his fingers sliding inside me, curling just right.
"Bineet," I gasped, my hips rising to meet his mouth.
He looked up, his eyes dark with pleasure, and smiled against my skin.
I lay back on the bed as Bineet's lips traced a slow path down my body, his kisses lingering on my skin as though he were memorizing every inch. His hands slid over my hips, gentle and exploring, and I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his touch.
But his words still echoed in my mind. Bikram is not a good man. He may even push you for more.
I opened my eyes and looked at him—at his earnest face hovering over my stomach, at the way his fingers trembled slightly as they traced my thighs. He was young, so young, and he had come here to warn me. Not to claim me, not to use me. To warn me.
"Bineet," I said softly, and he paused, looking up at me.
"Madam?"
I reached down, my fingers brushing his cheek.
He paused, his jaw tightening. "I know he's blackmailing you. You don't have to pretend with me."
The words hung in the air between us. I could have told him the truth—that I was a willing participant, that I craved the control, that Bikram had awakened something in me that I couldn't un-awaken. But looking into his earnest eyes, I found I couldn't.
Instead, I stayed silent.
He took my silence as confirmation. His hand squeezed mine gently. "I'm not here to judge you, Madam. I'm here to tell you that you don't have to keep doing this. Bikram has connections with some very dangerous people, so you’d better be careful around him."
"Bineet," I interrupted, my voice soft but firm. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. But you don't understand everything."
He shook his head, a stubborn set to his jaw. "Then explain it to me."
I looked at him—his young face, his hopeful eyes, the way his body still pressed against mine, half-hard and wanting. He had come to save me, and I was about to break his heart.
"Bineet, all the time, I willingly participated. I wanted it. I wanted to be seen, to be wanted. Bikram gives me that. He gives me what I crave."
Bineet's face shifted, confusion replacing concern. "You mean... you choose this?"
"Yes."
He stared at me for a long moment, his hand still resting on my hip. Then, slowly, a different kind of understanding dawned in his eyes.
"So you're a willing whore," he said, not cruelly, but as a simple statement of fact.
I met his gaze. "If that's what you want to call it."
The silence stretched between us.
Bineet exhaled slowly. "Then why did I come here?" he asked, more to himself than to me.
"Maybe to warn me. Maybe to see me again." I reached up, my fingers brushing his cheek. "Maybe both."
He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them, they were different—hungrier, more determined.
“If you choose this,” he said slowly, “I still want you to be careful with Bikram.”
"Then what about Rupam?" I asked him.
"“I'm not going to say Rupam is a good boy. Neither am I" Bineet said. "But I can assure you that Rupam will never do anything to harm you."
I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his. This kiss was different—not clumsy or eager, but deliberate. A decision. He responded instantly, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands exploring my body with renewed purpose.
"I want you," I whispered against his mouth. "I need you."
He kissed me deeper, his body pressing me into the mattress. His hand slid between my legs, finding me wet and ready, and I moaned as his fingers explored me slowly, reverently.
"Then let me worship you," he breathed. "Let me show you what it means to be wanted by someone who sees you—not just your body."
He kissed me slowly, deliberately, his tongue exploring my mouth with a reverence that made me shiver. His hands roamed my curves—my waist, the swell of my hips, the damp heat between my thighs. He took his time, worshiping every inch of me, his fingers teasing and building a slow, tender heat.
"You're so beautiful," he breathed against my collarbone. "I want to remember every part of you."
He kissed down my neck, my chest, and my stomach, his lips leaving a trail of fire. When he reached my thighs, he paused, looking up at me with those earnest eyes.
I pleaded, my breath hitching. “Please, don’t stop.”
He smiled and lowered his head again., his tongue finding my clit, and I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair. He was gentle this time, exploring, learning, then more insistent as my moans guided him. I arched against his mouth, the pleasure building, slow and deep, like waves lapping at the shore.
But I didn't want to come yet. I pulled him up, his lips finding mine again, tasting myself on his tongue.
"Not yet," I whispered. "I want you inside me, bring the condom from the table and put it on."
He positioned himself over me, his cock pressing against my entrance, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He entered me slowly, inch by inch, his eyes locked on mine, his breath ragged.
"Madam," he groaned, his forehead resting against mine.
"Shh," I said, my hips rising to meet him. "Just feel."
We moved together, slowly at first, then faster, our bodies finding a rhythm that was both urgent and tender. His hands cupped my breasts, his mouth found mine, and I let myself sink into the moment—not as Bikram's pawn, but as a woman making her own choice.
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