02-09-2024, 01:10 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-09-2024, 06:31 AM by ZareenK. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Update 7
The door swung open, and there she was, Tarannum, standing before him in a sheer nightie that left nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to her curves, the transparency revealing the smooth, hairless mound between her legs. Her eyes were glassy with drink, her lips painted a dark shade of red that matched the stiletto sandals she wore. The heels had to be at least four inches high, making her tower over him in a way that was both terrifying and exciting.
The smell of whiskey wafted from her, mixing with the scent of her heavy perfume. She took a drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing in the dim light of the hallway. "You're late," she slurred, her voice a sweet, poisonous whisper. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter, the click of her sandals echoing through the house.
The living room was a stark contrast to her attire, the walls adorned with IsIamic art depicting the holy city of Mecca and verses from the Quran written in elegant Arabic script. The sight of her in such a state, surrounded by these sacred symbols, made Ajay's stomach churn. Yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was a vision of beauty and depravity, a siren in a sea of virtue.
Tarannum took another drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dimly lit room. She sauntered over to the couch, her hips swaying with a drunken grace that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Her sandals clicked with each step, the sound echoing off the walls like the tick of a time bomb.
Ajay followed her, his eyes drawn to the way her nightie clung to her body, revealing every curve and shadow. The contrast between the holy images on the walls and the depraved scene unfolding before him was stark, a jolting reminder of the woman he had trusted. The sight of her bare feet in those towering sandals, the delicate arch of her foot, made his stomach twist in a knot of fear and arousal.
Tarannum's slurred voice was like a caress, a velvet-covered blade that slid through his defenses. She patted the couch next to her, the cigarette dangling from her fingers, the ash dangerously close to her nightie. "Come, sit," she said, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. The alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, but it had also sharpened her predatory instincts. The half bottle of Royal-Stag whiskey on the coffee table was a testament to her evening's indulgence.
Ajay sat down, his eyes drawn to the religious art on the walls, the holy city of Mecca staring back at him in silent judgment. He felt the heat of her body, the warmth of her skin through the flimsy fabric of the nightie. Her sandals clicked against the marble floor as she shifted, the heels sinking slightly with each movement. The sight of her bare, hairless legs was both alluring and repulsive, a stark contrast to the sacred verses that surrounded them.
Her slurred voice was a symphony of sweetness and malice, each word a velvet-wrapped thorn that pierced his resolve. "You know, Ajay," she began, her eyes glinting with a cruel light, "you're the only one who knows what a dirty little secret I have." She took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a lover's embrace. "But you're going to keep it, aren't you?"
Tarannum's bare, hairless legs stretched out before him, the sandals accentuating their sleekness. The sight was almost mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the roughness of the act she had committed the night before. Her smooth skin seemed to glow in the dim light, a beacon of sin in a world that demanded purity. Ajay felt his heart hammer in his chest, his body responding to her in ways he didn't want to admit.
Her hand reached out, the tips of her fingers tracing a line from his knee to his thigh, sending a shiver up his spine. "You're so obedient," she purred, her voice a blend of sweetness and malice. "I like that in a boy." Her hand moved higher, her fingers dancing over the fabric of his pants. Despite his fear, he felt himself harden, the betrayal of his body a silent protest to the horror of his situation.
Tarannum noticed, her smile widening. "Looks like someone's enjoying themselves," she said, her eyes glinting with a predatory light. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Don't worry, my little toy," she whispered. "You'll get used to it." Her hand closed around him, squeezing tightly, and Ajay bit back a gasp.
The room was well lit, the soft glow of the pendant lights revealing every detail of her flawless, hairless skin. Her smoothness was almost alien, a stark contrast to the roughness of his own body. He knew he should push her away, should scream for help, but the fear of her retribution kept his voice trapped in his throat. He sat there, trembling, as she continued to stroke him, her movements sure and confident.
Tarannum had always had a taste for the forbidden, and Ajay was her latest conquest. Despite her many encounters with men and women, there was something about the power she held over this young, innocent boy that thrilled her beyond words. Her eyes glinted with a sadistic pleasure as she watched his fear mingle with the beginnings of arousal. Her voice was sweet, the words a gentle caress that made his stomach turn. "You're mine now, Ajay," she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. "My little toy to play with whenever I wish."
Tarannum's hand slid higher up Ajay's thigh, her grip tightening around his erection. He could feel the heat of her breath on his neck, her whispers a mix of sweet promises and dark threats. "Let's go to my room," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down his spine. Ajay followed her on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, his eyes on the sway of her hips and the click of her sandals as they echoed through the hallway. Tarannum stumbled quite a bit, the whiskey having a firm grip on her senses as she teetered in her four-inch heels, her balance compromised but her desire unwavering.
The hallway was lined with family portraits and awards she had received over the years. The irony of her actions in such a personal space was not lost on Ajay. He followed her into the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest, as she swayed down the corridor with the grace of a drunk gazelle leading him holding his hand. The room was well-appointed, a testament to her wealth, with a king-sized bed in the center, adorned with silk sheets and plush pillows. The scent of her perfume was thick in the air, a cloying mix of jasmine and musk that seemed to cling to every surface. The thick curtains were drawn to keep neighbors at bay, and the room was brightly lit, showcasing every inch of her opulent lifestyle.
Her sandals clicked against the polished hardwood floor, the sound a grim reminder of his fate. She released his hand and stumbled to the bed, her movements deliberate and exaggerated as she climbed onto the mattress. Ajay felt his knees wobble as she beckoned him closer, her eyes glazed with desire. She reached for the sash of her nightie, her full breasts spilling out as the fabric parted. Her skin was soft and pale, a stark contrast to the dark areolae and erect nipples that begged for attention.
"Take off your shirt," she slurred, her voice thick with need. Ajay's hands trembled as he obeyed, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched as she ran her fingers over her own breasts, her movements slow and sensual. His own body responded despite his fear, his erection pressing painfully against his pants.
With a smug smile, she reached out and unbuckled his belt, her eyes never leaving his. "You want this," she murmured, her hand sliding down to grip him firmly. Ajay flinched, his eyes squeezing shut as she began to stroke him through the fabric. "Look at me," she ordered, her voice harsher now. He opened his eyes, the humiliation and desire warring on his face as she stroked him.
Tarannum's hand moved deftly, pulling his pants down to expose his erection. He was young and uncut, his cock standing at attention despite the fear that clouded his eyes. She licked her lips, her gaze hungry as she took in the sight of him. She continued to stroke him, her grip firm and sure, watching as he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. "Take off the rest," she ordered, her voice thick with desire. Ajay complied, his body moving on autopilot as he stepped out of his pants and underwear.
Her eyes roamed over his naked body, the muscles of his chest and stomach tight with tension. His legs were smooth and hairless, his cock pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. She smirked, the power of the situation intoxicating her. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, the words sticking in her throat like a mouthful of ash. "So perfect for what I need."
Tarannum's own nightie was cast aside, revealing her smooth, hairless form. Her breasts were large and heavy, the areolae dark and puckered. Her stomach was flat, a testament to the hours she spent at the gym and the calories she burnt with lots of sex. Her pussy was shaved clean, a pink slit surrounded by soft, inviting flesh. Ajay's eyes were glued to her body, his fear mixing with a reluctant fascination. She reached out, her hand wrapping around his cock, and brought it to her mouth. The contact was hot and wet, and Ajay couldn't hold back a whimper as she took him in, her eyes never leaving his.
Her mouth was a thing of beauty, a contradiction to the cruelty in her eyes. She sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand working his shaft in time with her mouth. Ajay felt his body betraying him, his hips moving of their own accord as he grew closer to climax. But she was in no hurry, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring his youthful vigor.
When she finally pulled away, her lips were glistening with his precum, and she smacked them together with a wet sound that made him cringe. "Now, my sweet boy," she purred, her voice a mix of sweetness and menace, "it's your turn to taste me." She spread her legs, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. Ajay felt his stomach lurch as he took in the sight of her bare, swollen pussy.
He knelt before her, his heart racing, his mouth dry with fear. Her sandals remained on, the heels digging into the plush mattress as she leaned back, her hand guiding his face towards her sex. "Lick me," she ordered, her voice thick with desire. "Lick me bhenchod, like the good little chutiya you are." Ajay's mind reeled at the vile words coming from the mouth of the woman who had been his teacher, his mentor. But fear held him captive, and he obeyed, his tongue tentatively touching the slick folds of her pussy.
The door swung open, and there she was, Tarannum, standing before him in a sheer nightie that left nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to her curves, the transparency revealing the smooth, hairless mound between her legs. Her eyes were glassy with drink, her lips painted a dark shade of red that matched the stiletto sandals she wore. The heels had to be at least four inches high, making her tower over him in a way that was both terrifying and exciting.
The smell of whiskey wafted from her, mixing with the scent of her heavy perfume. She took a drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing in the dim light of the hallway. "You're late," she slurred, her voice a sweet, poisonous whisper. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter, the click of her sandals echoing through the house.
The living room was a stark contrast to her attire, the walls adorned with IsIamic art depicting the holy city of Mecca and verses from the Quran written in elegant Arabic script. The sight of her in such a state, surrounded by these sacred symbols, made Ajay's stomach churn. Yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was a vision of beauty and depravity, a siren in a sea of virtue.
Tarannum took another drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dimly lit room. She sauntered over to the couch, her hips swaying with a drunken grace that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Her sandals clicked with each step, the sound echoing off the walls like the tick of a time bomb.
Ajay followed her, his eyes drawn to the way her nightie clung to her body, revealing every curve and shadow. The contrast between the holy images on the walls and the depraved scene unfolding before him was stark, a jolting reminder of the woman he had trusted. The sight of her bare feet in those towering sandals, the delicate arch of her foot, made his stomach twist in a knot of fear and arousal.
Tarannum's slurred voice was like a caress, a velvet-covered blade that slid through his defenses. She patted the couch next to her, the cigarette dangling from her fingers, the ash dangerously close to her nightie. "Come, sit," she said, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. The alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, but it had also sharpened her predatory instincts. The half bottle of Royal-Stag whiskey on the coffee table was a testament to her evening's indulgence.
Ajay sat down, his eyes drawn to the religious art on the walls, the holy city of Mecca staring back at him in silent judgment. He felt the heat of her body, the warmth of her skin through the flimsy fabric of the nightie. Her sandals clicked against the marble floor as she shifted, the heels sinking slightly with each movement. The sight of her bare, hairless legs was both alluring and repulsive, a stark contrast to the sacred verses that surrounded them.
Her slurred voice was a symphony of sweetness and malice, each word a velvet-wrapped thorn that pierced his resolve. "You know, Ajay," she began, her eyes glinting with a cruel light, "you're the only one who knows what a dirty little secret I have." She took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a lover's embrace. "But you're going to keep it, aren't you?"
Tarannum's bare, hairless legs stretched out before him, the sandals accentuating their sleekness. The sight was almost mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the roughness of the act she had committed the night before. Her smooth skin seemed to glow in the dim light, a beacon of sin in a world that demanded purity. Ajay felt his heart hammer in his chest, his body responding to her in ways he didn't want to admit.
Her hand reached out, the tips of her fingers tracing a line from his knee to his thigh, sending a shiver up his spine. "You're so obedient," she purred, her voice a blend of sweetness and malice. "I like that in a boy." Her hand moved higher, her fingers dancing over the fabric of his pants. Despite his fear, he felt himself harden, the betrayal of his body a silent protest to the horror of his situation.
Tarannum noticed, her smile widening. "Looks like someone's enjoying themselves," she said, her eyes glinting with a predatory light. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Don't worry, my little toy," she whispered. "You'll get used to it." Her hand closed around him, squeezing tightly, and Ajay bit back a gasp.
The room was well lit, the soft glow of the pendant lights revealing every detail of her flawless, hairless skin. Her smoothness was almost alien, a stark contrast to the roughness of his own body. He knew he should push her away, should scream for help, but the fear of her retribution kept his voice trapped in his throat. He sat there, trembling, as she continued to stroke him, her movements sure and confident.
Tarannum had always had a taste for the forbidden, and Ajay was her latest conquest. Despite her many encounters with men and women, there was something about the power she held over this young, innocent boy that thrilled her beyond words. Her eyes glinted with a sadistic pleasure as she watched his fear mingle with the beginnings of arousal. Her voice was sweet, the words a gentle caress that made his stomach turn. "You're mine now, Ajay," she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. "My little toy to play with whenever I wish."
Tarannum's hand slid higher up Ajay's thigh, her grip tightening around his erection. He could feel the heat of her breath on his neck, her whispers a mix of sweet promises and dark threats. "Let's go to my room," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down his spine. Ajay followed her on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, his eyes on the sway of her hips and the click of her sandals as they echoed through the hallway. Tarannum stumbled quite a bit, the whiskey having a firm grip on her senses as she teetered in her four-inch heels, her balance compromised but her desire unwavering.
The hallway was lined with family portraits and awards she had received over the years. The irony of her actions in such a personal space was not lost on Ajay. He followed her into the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest, as she swayed down the corridor with the grace of a drunk gazelle leading him holding his hand. The room was well-appointed, a testament to her wealth, with a king-sized bed in the center, adorned with silk sheets and plush pillows. The scent of her perfume was thick in the air, a cloying mix of jasmine and musk that seemed to cling to every surface. The thick curtains were drawn to keep neighbors at bay, and the room was brightly lit, showcasing every inch of her opulent lifestyle.
Her sandals clicked against the polished hardwood floor, the sound a grim reminder of his fate. She released his hand and stumbled to the bed, her movements deliberate and exaggerated as she climbed onto the mattress. Ajay felt his knees wobble as she beckoned him closer, her eyes glazed with desire. She reached for the sash of her nightie, her full breasts spilling out as the fabric parted. Her skin was soft and pale, a stark contrast to the dark areolae and erect nipples that begged for attention.
"Take off your shirt," she slurred, her voice thick with need. Ajay's hands trembled as he obeyed, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched as she ran her fingers over her own breasts, her movements slow and sensual. His own body responded despite his fear, his erection pressing painfully against his pants.
With a smug smile, she reached out and unbuckled his belt, her eyes never leaving his. "You want this," she murmured, her hand sliding down to grip him firmly. Ajay flinched, his eyes squeezing shut as she began to stroke him through the fabric. "Look at me," she ordered, her voice harsher now. He opened his eyes, the humiliation and desire warring on his face as she stroked him.
Tarannum's hand moved deftly, pulling his pants down to expose his erection. He was young and uncut, his cock standing at attention despite the fear that clouded his eyes. She licked her lips, her gaze hungry as she took in the sight of him. She continued to stroke him, her grip firm and sure, watching as he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. "Take off the rest," she ordered, her voice thick with desire. Ajay complied, his body moving on autopilot as he stepped out of his pants and underwear.
Her eyes roamed over his naked body, the muscles of his chest and stomach tight with tension. His legs were smooth and hairless, his cock pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. She smirked, the power of the situation intoxicating her. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, the words sticking in her throat like a mouthful of ash. "So perfect for what I need."
Tarannum's own nightie was cast aside, revealing her smooth, hairless form. Her breasts were large and heavy, the areolae dark and puckered. Her stomach was flat, a testament to the hours she spent at the gym and the calories she burnt with lots of sex. Her pussy was shaved clean, a pink slit surrounded by soft, inviting flesh. Ajay's eyes were glued to her body, his fear mixing with a reluctant fascination. She reached out, her hand wrapping around his cock, and brought it to her mouth. The contact was hot and wet, and Ajay couldn't hold back a whimper as she took him in, her eyes never leaving his.
Her mouth was a thing of beauty, a contradiction to the cruelty in her eyes. She sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand working his shaft in time with her mouth. Ajay felt his body betraying him, his hips moving of their own accord as he grew closer to climax. But she was in no hurry, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring his youthful vigor.
When she finally pulled away, her lips were glistening with his precum, and she smacked them together with a wet sound that made him cringe. "Now, my sweet boy," she purred, her voice a mix of sweetness and menace, "it's your turn to taste me." She spread her legs, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. Ajay felt his stomach lurch as he took in the sight of her bare, swollen pussy.
He knelt before her, his heart racing, his mouth dry with fear. Her sandals remained on, the heels digging into the plush mattress as she leaned back, her hand guiding his face towards her sex. "Lick me," she ordered, her voice thick with desire. "Lick me bhenchod, like the good little chutiya you are." Ajay's mind reeled at the vile words coming from the mouth of the woman who had been his teacher, his mentor. But fear held him captive, and he obeyed, his tongue tentatively touching the slick folds of her pussy.
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