17-11-2024, 09:46 PM
Afrah and her mother walked through the bustling marketplace, the aroma of spices and freshly fried snacks wafting through the air.
They entered a bridal shop.
While her mother’s eyes scanned through the rows of intricate designs, she stopped at a light green Anarkali suit displayed prominently on a mannequin.
"This would look beautiful on you, Afrah," her ammi said.
Ammi:“Your wedding will be perfect, Afrah. We will not leave anything undone,”
Afrah nodded quietly, her fingers absentmindedly trailing over the delicate embroidery of the light green Anarkali she was holding.
Ammi:“You are lucky Sohail is a good man. He will keep you happy. A good husband is a blessing, and I know he will take care of you.”
Afrah forced a small smile, the words sitting heavy in her chest.
Ammi; “I also want you to remember, Afrah… A good marriage is built on mutual effort. I want you to perform your wifely duties with sincerity. Be a good wife to him. It’s important.”
"Good wife." The words echoed in her head, louder than her mother's voice in the bustling shop. Would she be a good wife to Sohail?
The thought was a storm in her mind, crashing against the memory of just a few days ago. Her legs had been wrapped tightly around Vishal's shoulders, her thighs pressing his head between them, her hand tangled in his hair as he devoured her with his mouth.
Vishal. He had kissed her, touched her, and done things to her body that were supposed to be reserved for her future husband, Sohail. She hadn't kissed Sohail yet, but Vishal had not only kissed her many times but, just a couple of days ago, had tasted her with pussy his mouth.
The worst part wasn’t just that she had let Vishal do all of it. It was that she had enjoyed it. Her body had craved him, her thoughts had betrayed her, and now, the guilt clung to her like a second skin.
Her mother’s voice broke through the haze. “Afrah, what do you think of this one?”
Afrah blinked, forcing herself to focus on the outfit her mother held up. She smiled faintly, nodding, though her mind was far away.
The thought struck her like a lightning bolt: "What would Ammi think if she knew?"
Her mother’s reaction was easy to imagine. The disappointment in her eyes, the anger in her voice, the sheer heartbreak of knowing her daughter had done something so forbidden. A man her mother would never approve of, a man who wasn’t her fiancé.
Afrah shivered, not from the chill of the shop’s air conditioning but from the weight of her own thoughts. She could almost hear her mother's voice, scolding her, calling her 'beghairat" for shaming the family. Her stomach twisted at the idea.
And yet, despite the fear and guilt, she couldn’t stop herself when it came to Vishal. He made her lose control, made her forget who she was supposed to be. Around him, she didn’t feel like Sohail’s dutiful fiancée, the girl her parents had raised to be a good wife. Around him, she felt alive, reckless, and consumed by desires she hadn’t known she had.
He had made her do things she never thought she’d allow anyone,things that felt dirty, forbidden. And she’d enjoyed them. God help her, but she had.
Her cheeks flushed as she thought of the night in his car. If Sohail’s call hadn’t interrupted them, if they weren’t confined by the cramped space of the vehicle... would she have given herself to him completely?
Afrah didn’t know. And that terrified her. Because a part of her knew that with Vishal, she was capable of crossing lines she never thought she’d approach.Her thought interrupt by a buzz on her phone.
She got a text from Vishal:
Vishal:What are you doing?
Afrah:Shopping with mom at Chandni Chowk.
Vishal: What are u shopping?
Afarh: not shoping but just browsing , through the lengha store.
Afrah’s fingers tightened around her phone, her heart racing. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her. It felt almost illegal, chatting like this with Vishal—her boss, the man who had been between her thighs just days ago—while standing in a shop filled with lehengas and sarees meant for her wedding to Sohail.
Her ammi:Afrah, look at this one. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Afrah nodded automatically, her mind far from the glittering fabric. All she could think about was the stark contrast between the life she was supposed to live and the secret she was desperately trying to keep hidden.
Her mother held up the light green Anarkali dress, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Afrah, this one will look stunning on you. Try it, beta.”
Afrah hesitated, glancing at her ammi.She went to the trial room.
As she stood in the confined space, dbanging the green Anarkali over herself, her phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen.
Vishal:Send me pics of you in the dress.
She bit her lip, torn between the absurdity of the situation and the strange thrill of his demand.
Afrah stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the green Anarkali so it dbangd perfectly over her curves. The soft fabric flowed elegantly, hugging her in all the right places. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at her phone. Her heart raced as she unlocked it, her fingers trembling slightly.
She took some snaps of her with the anarkali dress.
Her mind was conflicted. "Why am I even doing this?" she thought, yet she didn’t stop. With each picture, a part of her wanted to see his reaction.
After snapping a few more, she stared at the gallery of photos, debating whether to send them. The memory of his lips on her and the messages he’d sent earlier lingered in her mind, making her pulse quicken. But she shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
“Afrah, are you done?” her ammi called from outside, pulling her back to reality.
“Yes, just a minute!” she replied, quickly tucking her phone away and stepping out to show her mother the dress.
Her ammi clasped her hands together, a wide smile spreading across her face as Afrah stepped out of the trial room.
“This is it,” her mother declared, her voice filled with excitement. “The green Anarkali suits you perfectly. You look stunning, beta. Sohail will be speechless when he sees you in this.”
Afrah offered a small smile, trying to focus on her mother’s enthusiasm instead of the turmoil brewing inside her.
Slipping back into the trial room, her hand automatically reached for her phone. Against her better judgment, she scrolled to Vishal’s chat and attached the pictures she had taken earlier.
She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button.
"Delivered."
Vishal: "God, you look so gorgeous. But I’ve imagined you in something sexier, like a lehenga."
Afrah: "Why is that?"
Vishal: "A figure like yours deserves to flaunt a little. Besides, with a lehenga, it’d be so much easier to reach your lips…"
Her cheeks burned as she read his text, a flurry of emotions overwhelming her.
Afrah’s fingers hesitated over the keypad, her heart pounding. Part of her wanted to shut down the conversation, but another part—a dangerous, thrilling part—wanted to know what he’d say next. Against her better judgment, she typed back.
Afrah: "You’re impossible."
Quickly locking her phone, she stepped out of the trial room.
Afrah sat beside her ammi, pretending to admire the intricate embroidery of a bridal lehenga as her fingers tapped rapidly on her phone under the table.
Her phone buzzed,
Vishal:"I can still taste you, Afrah. God, you tasted like nectar."
Her cheeks flushed, and she immediately typed back.
Afrah:"Good, because it was a one-time thing."
Her phone buzzed almost instantly.
Vishal:"Oh, don’t be so cruel. Have some mercy."
She bit her lip to keep from smiling, stealing a quick glance at her ammi, who was chatting with the shopkeeper about a lehenga.
Afrah:"You’re a naughty boy, Vishal."
Vishal:"And naughty boys don’t get anything?"
Her fingers paused over the keypad, a smirk playing on her lips. She typed back, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt.
Afrah:"Exactly."
She should’ve felt ashamed, flirting with her boss via text while sitting next to her mother, of all people, in a shop filled with wedding dresses meant for her future with Sohail. But the thrill was undeniable, and it coursed through her like a forbidden current.
Her ammi suddenly turned to her. “What are you doing on your phone, Afrah? Look at this l lehenga”
Afrah jumped, quickly locking her phone and putting on a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Ammi, I’ll focus.”
Her mother nodded, satisfied, and Afrah reached for the lehenga, feeling her pulse quicken again as her phone vibrated in her lap.
Afrah felt her fingers trembling as she read Vishal’s latest message, her breath catching in her throat.
Vishal:"I want to taste it again, Afrah—lick it, kiss it, bite it—with your soft thighs wrapped around my head."
A shiver ran down her spine, and she pressed her lips together, trying to keep her composure as her ammi held up another dress for her opinion.
“Afrah, are you even paying attention?” her mother asked, frowning.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, Ammi, it’s beautiful.”
But her focus wasn’t on the lehenga or her mother anymore. Wetness crept between her thighs, and she cursed herself for letting Vishal get under her skin like this. She should stop. She had to stop. But somehow, she found herself typing a reply.
Afrah:"Then you’ll have to beg. On your knees."
Her pulse quickened the moment she sent it, and her palms grew clammy. She stared at the screen, watching for his response.
It came almost immediately.
Vishal:"Oh, sure, I’ll be on my knees if that’s what you want to play. Fine, I’ll beg. But I’ll get what I want in the end. Wear a skirt tomorrow to the office."
Afrah’s heart raced, her fingers hovering over the screen as she reread his message. What had she done? What game had she started?
She tried to shake off the heat rising inside her, glancing nervously at her ammi. Her mother was busy chatting with the shopkeeper, oblivious to the storm brewing within her daughter.
Afrah swallowed hard, slipping her phone into her bag. Her mind whirled with thoughts of tomorrow and what wearing that skirt could lead to.
In the office:
Afrah sat at her desk, her fingers absently tapping on the keyboard as her mind wandered. She glanced down at the long, hand-block-printed blue skirt she’d carefully chosen this morning. It flowed gracefully around her legs, modest yet alluring in its own way. Her simple white T-shirt added to her understated elegance, but the outfit wasn’t what had her nerves tingling.
She was waiting.
Her heart raced every time someone walked past her cubicle, her anticipation making her stomach churn. What if he didn’t make a move? Or worse, what if he did?
Her thoughts flickered back to a few nights ago—the way his mouth had worked magic, pulling sensations from her body she hadn’t thought possible. She felt a heat rising within her, pooling low in her abdomen. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her thighs pressing together as wetness began to build.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself, trying to focus on the document open on her screen. But her mind wouldn’t listen. The excitement, the fear, the forbidden thrill of it all—it was overwhelming.
I’ll only let him kiss me,she decided firmly, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. Nothing more.
But even as she tried to set boundaries in her mind, her body betrayed her. Her heart raced, her breaths came quicker, and she knew deep down that if Vishal pushed just a little, her resolve would crumble.
And then she heard it—a knock on the edge of her cubicle. Her breath hitched as she turned to see him standing there, his dark eyes locked onto hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
“Afrah,” Vishal said, his voice smooth and low, “you have a minute?”
Her heart thudded against her chest, and she nodded, standing on shaky legs. “Of course,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she followed him to his office, her mind raced with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Afrah’s heart raced as she stepped into Vishal’s cabin, the air charged with unspoken tension. He stood by the large glass window, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, gazing at the city sprawled below. The skyline shimmered under the afternoon sun, but it was his commanding presence that drew her attention.
“Come here,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet authority.
She hesitated, then walked over, stopping a few steps behind him.
“Look at how small the world seems from up here,” Vishal said, nodding toward the view.
Afrah moved closer, her eyes following his gaze. She stared down at the bustling streets far below, the people and cars reduced to mere dots.
“You have all the potential to be at the top,” Vishal said, his tone thoughtful, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he glanced at her outfit.
Afrah frowned slightly, unsure of where this conversation was heading. She thought he’d be quick to make his move, to devour her like last time. But instead, his words were laced with something deeper—something she couldn’t quite decipher.
“At the top, you can be free,” he continued, his voice softening as he moved closer to her side. “Full of yourself, doing what you please, without hesitation or fear of repercussions.”
His words hung in the air as he stepped behind her. Afrah felt a shiver course through her body as his hand brushed her waist, his touch deliberate yet restrained. She stood frozen, staring out of the glass, her breath quickening as he leaned closer.
“With all my money and influence, I feel powerful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate now, “but you… you have power over me, Afrah. And you know that.”
Her stomach twisted at his confession, her mind a whirl of emotions. Before she could respond, he gently turned her away from the window, guiding her to his chair.
“Sit,” he commanded softly.
Confused but unable to resist, she did as he said, sinking into the plush leather seat. Vishal lowered himself to his knees in front of her, an action that sent her pulse racing.
“You know what powerful people do, Afrah?” he asked, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “They play people at their whim.”
He placed his hands on either side of her chair, his expression both serious and teasing.
“Like you have over me.”
Slowly, he reached for her feet, his fingers brushing against her ankles as he slipped off her shoes. Afrah’s breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t deny the thrill of the moment, but a part of her still wondered how far this would go.
Vishal’s eyes never left hers as he brought her pinkish, fair toe to his mouth, his lips brushing against her delicate skin. His tongue flicked over her toe, tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent an unexpected jolt of sensation through her body.
Afrah froze, her breath hitching as she watched him. She was confused, aroused, and utterly mesmerized by the sight of her boss—this powerful, handsome man—treating her toe as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
His tongue teased and played with her, his movements unhurried, almost reverent. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her mind unable to process how something so simple could feel so intimate, so electric.
She looked at him, her cheeks burning with both embarrassment and desire. This was Vishal—the confident, dominant stud everyone admired—kneeling before her, indulging in her like she was a rare delicacy.
Her body betrayed her confusion, heat pooling in her core as his lips pressed a lingering kiss on her toe before meeting her gaze with a smirk that sent shivers down her spine.
Afrah’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazed down at him. Vishal, the confident, powerful man who commanded respect and authority from everyone, was kneeling before her, his expression raw with desire. The sight sent a wave of conflicting emotions coursing through her—empowerment mingled with an undeniable arousal that made her thighs clench involuntarily.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto hers as he spoke, his voice low and pleading. “May I kiss your pussy?”
Her entire body shivered at his words, heat pooling between her legs. The idea of such a dominant man begging at her feet stirred something deep within her, a sense of control she’d never felt before. And yet, her arousal threatened to overwhelm her, every fiber of her being aching to feel his mouth on her again.
She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the armrest of the chair. Words failed her as her mind spun with indecision, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate her. Could she resist him? Did she even want to?
Vishal remained there, waiting for her answer, his gaze unwavering, his desire palpable. The moment stretched between them, electric and intoxicating, as she struggled with the power she now held over him—and the power he had over her body.
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice trembling with both hesitation and desire, surrendering completely to the moment.
Vishal’s hands moved with purpose, his fingertips brushing along her thighs as he reached for the hem of her skirt. Slowly, he pushed the fabric higher, his deliberate pace igniting every nerve in her body. Her breathing grew uneven as he bunched the skirt around her waist, fully exposing her thighs to his intense gaze.
He paused, his fingers finding the edge of her panty. His dark eyes flicked up to hers, silently asking for permission. She gave him the faintest nod, her chest heaving as anticipation coiled tightly inside her.
With deliberate slowness, he hooked his fingers around the delicate fabric and slid it down her legs, letting it linger briefly at her knees before pulling it completely free. Holding the garment in his hand, he brought it to his face, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply.
The gesture left her stunned, her cheeks burning as a fresh wave of heat surged through her body. She bit her lip, watching as he savored the scent with a satisfied smirk. “You smell irresistible,” he murmured, his voice low and full of praise, before setting the panty aside.
Now, she sat in his chair, her skirt pushed up to her waist, her most private self completely exposed. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and she felt the undeniable wetness between her thighs—a silent confession of her arousal.
Vishal knelt before her, his hands resting firmly on her thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin. He leaned in, his face inches away, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. His eyes burned with desire as he gazed up at her, his lips curling into a confident smirk.
“You’re perfect, Afrah,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Absolutely perfect.”
She said nothing as he let his thumbs rest lightly over her waist, the pressure of his fingers on her inner thighs causing her pussy to burn with desire. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to steady her racing breath. Her fingers curled around the headrest behind him, the smooth leather pressing against her skin, grounding her as the tension built within her.
That's when Vishal grabs her by the waist and forces her thighs open, flattening the palm of his right hand over her aching pussy"
He rubs her pussy in gentle circles, his movements hypnotizing, and she presses her head against the chair as he does it. He runs his index finger down the length of her aching pussy a few times, then finally rests his fingertip over her clit, gently pressing down on it. She feels electricity crackling up her spine, her heart pumping adrenaline into her bloodstream as her thoughts scatter. She can barely think right now. Sinful images flood her mind, each portraying something so deliciously wicked that she has to take another deep breath to try and push these thoughts into some hidden corner.
As he speaks, he rubs her clit with the precision of a man that has more experience than the common mortal, and she let a purr tumble out of her mouth.
he lets his index finger fall from her clit, his finger running down the length of her pussy lips, parting her folds and sliding his finger inside her pussy, doing it so slowly that her mind almost explodes. When he presses his fingertip against her G-spot, her eyes start rolling in their orbits, and she feels her insides clenching hard, already anticipating a violent orgasm.
Her thighs began to tremble, the pressure building as she was on the edge of release. A soft, strained moan slipped from her lips, but she quickly tried to suppress it, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Just as she was about to lose control, his hand suddenly stopped, pulling away with maddening precision. She whimpered, her body aching for more, her pulse racing in frustration as she looked at him, needing him to push her over the edge.
Their eyes met, a silent exchange of unspoken desire. Her body ached with lust, every muscle in her being screaming for release. Her eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him, silently begging for him to continue, to push her over the edge. The tension in the air was thick, and she could feel every inch of her body trembling with need, her skin burning under his gaze.
He brings his hand back to her pussy, letting his thumb press against her clit before sliding one more finger inside her. Flicking his wrist, he begins fingering her, fast and hard from the start, while at the same time stroking her clit with a controlled fury.
"Feeling lightheaded, she rocks her hips softly, the coming and going motion of her body matching the way he pistons his fingers into her. 'Your pussy needs me, Afrah. Look how wet it is,' he whispers, and his words are like poison: they infiltrate her mind, planting seeds of desire. She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from succumbing to his spell.
“You like it, don’t you? You’re a fucking tease, aren’t you?” he asks.
He fingers her so hard that, even though she opens her mouth to reply, no words come out. She just lets out a violent sigh, her voice quivering like an out-of-tune violin. “Yes, you are,” he answers his own question, handling her pussy and clit masterfully. So masterfully that she already feels that sweet pressure building inside her, pinching her skin from the inside and filling her muscles with raw tension. “Oh, God, oh, God,” she repeats over and over again, her mind going blank as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over it. Right now, if you asked where she is… she wouldn’t be able to answer.She’s so lost in the moment that she doesn’t even know if she can say she’s fully conscious — she’s walking that thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness, stuck in limbo while ecstasy crushes her from both sides. And it feels absolutely perfect.
His finger playing her pussy like a masterful musician finding the perfect note. Every touch sent electric shivers of pleasure racing through her body. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, her skin burning under his touch. Her mind spun, her body on the edge of surrender, ready to break free. Just as she teetered on the brink of release, he pulled away, his fingers halting abruptly, leaving her suspended in a maddening ache of need.
She whimpered, her eyes burning with frustration, irritation, and a simmering anger laced with lust as she stared at him. His gaze, however, was fixed on his fingers, glistening with the evidence of her desire, a silent power shift between them. The sight of it only fueled her need, her chest rising and falling with the tension that hummed between them, as she silently fumed and craved more.
Vishal: "Look how wet you are for me, and yet you stop me from tasting it." His voice is hoarse and filled with lust. "I want this pussy. I need it."
She grabbed his head, pulling it toward her inner thighs, frustration and lust mixing in her eyes.
“How much do you want it? How much do you need it?” she asked, her voice thick with anger and raw lust, eyes burning with a hunger that matched the fire coursing through her. Her body quivered, aching for him to give in, her frustration mounting with every second.
“More than I need the air to breathe, Afrah,” he says.
“You said you wanted to kiss my pussy didn’t you? Then kiss it” she ask him, my heart feeling like a war drum inside my chest.
She placed her heel against the seat next to his face, tangling her fingers in his hair and yanking on it, pulling him toward her as she moved her hips forward. Taking control, she let him press his face against her wet pussy without wasting a second. She threw her head back, a moan escaping as Vishal’s tongue pushed past her inner lips, jabbing at her insides. More than kissing or sucking, he devoured her with an urgent need, like a man who had just discovered the most marvelous thing in the world.
Vishal’s tongue glided over her wetness with slow, deliberate strokes, the slick sounds of tounge and pussy in the charged silence of the room. His eyes, dark and smoldering, locked onto hers, holding her captive in his gaze. Each flick of his tongue was unhurried, tracing the delicate folds like an artist savoring his masterpiece. The heat of his breath mixed with the cool air, sending shivers across her skin as he explored her with an intoxicating mix of precision and hunger. The room seemed to blur around them, the only focus the fire igniting between his touch and her trembling body.
His hands gripped her ass cheeks, and he opened his mouth wide, crushing it with hunger.Oh, Vishal,” she sighs, moving her hips and rubbing her pussy against his face, the tip of his nose brushing against her clit. His hands are still on her ass cheeks, his fingers digging into her flesh, keeping her in place. “I… I… Oh, God, I love it,” she moans, yanking on his hair so hard she’s surprised she didn’t tear any out. He doesn’t respond — after all, his mouth is busy — but she can almost feel his answer: ‘Of course you love it.’ Gritting her teeth, she keeps thrusting against his face. Still gripping her ass, he spreads her cheeks wide and caresses her crack with one finger, running it up and down, always slowing down when he passes over her hole. Her mind starts to boil with anticipation, wondering what his next move will be.
His tongue moved with fervor, lapping up her juices like a cat savoring milk, each stroke deliberate and unyielding. His dark, piercing eyes never left hers, holding her in a trance as his hands gripped her soft thighs firmly, anchoring her in place. The contrast of his strength and the tender caress of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rippling through her, her body responding to his every move.
Now holding his hand still, he presses his index finger against her asshole and, slowly and carefully, begins to slide it in. She holds her breath as he does, her whole body tensing up so much that her muscles feel as if they’re about to pop like a balloon. Sliding his finger in and out of her ass with a gentle rhythm, he then takes his other hand and presses down on her clit. He strokes it in time with the pace at which he’s fingering her, and even his tongue seems to slow down so that all of him moves in perfect sync.
She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. She was in her boss's cabin, her thighs around his face, as Vishal, a man who could have any woman he wanted, used his mouth on her. All of this was happening in his office, behind closed doors, while outside, no one had any idea what was going on inside the room.
“I think I’m gonna—Oh God! Ammi!” she whimpered, desperate not to get caught, a high-voltage current surging through her body, charging her like a battery. Inside her skull, a storm raged, scattering her sanity and throwing it against the walls of her mind. She felt a ball of fire grow in the pit of her stomach, then explode like a supernova, its flaming arms spreading across her body. “OH GOD!” she shouted, her throat raw from the effort. “SO GOOD!” she continued, her muscles tense before succumbing to a series of spasms. She remained like that for what felt like an eternity, the orgasm completely shattering her sense of time, before collapsing on top of Vishal as the flames of ecstasy slowly died out inside her.
Rolling to the side, she lay on the floor, her head resting against his. She kept her eyes closed, taking long, deep breaths, her lungs feeling as if they were on fire and ice at the same time.
To be continue.....
They entered a bridal shop.
While her mother’s eyes scanned through the rows of intricate designs, she stopped at a light green Anarkali suit displayed prominently on a mannequin.
"This would look beautiful on you, Afrah," her ammi said.
Ammi:“Your wedding will be perfect, Afrah. We will not leave anything undone,”
Afrah nodded quietly, her fingers absentmindedly trailing over the delicate embroidery of the light green Anarkali she was holding.
Ammi:“You are lucky Sohail is a good man. He will keep you happy. A good husband is a blessing, and I know he will take care of you.”
Afrah forced a small smile, the words sitting heavy in her chest.
Ammi; “I also want you to remember, Afrah… A good marriage is built on mutual effort. I want you to perform your wifely duties with sincerity. Be a good wife to him. It’s important.”
"Good wife." The words echoed in her head, louder than her mother's voice in the bustling shop. Would she be a good wife to Sohail?
The thought was a storm in her mind, crashing against the memory of just a few days ago. Her legs had been wrapped tightly around Vishal's shoulders, her thighs pressing his head between them, her hand tangled in his hair as he devoured her with his mouth.
Vishal. He had kissed her, touched her, and done things to her body that were supposed to be reserved for her future husband, Sohail. She hadn't kissed Sohail yet, but Vishal had not only kissed her many times but, just a couple of days ago, had tasted her with pussy his mouth.
The worst part wasn’t just that she had let Vishal do all of it. It was that she had enjoyed it. Her body had craved him, her thoughts had betrayed her, and now, the guilt clung to her like a second skin.
Her mother’s voice broke through the haze. “Afrah, what do you think of this one?”
Afrah blinked, forcing herself to focus on the outfit her mother held up. She smiled faintly, nodding, though her mind was far away.
The thought struck her like a lightning bolt: "What would Ammi think if she knew?"
Her mother’s reaction was easy to imagine. The disappointment in her eyes, the anger in her voice, the sheer heartbreak of knowing her daughter had done something so forbidden. A man her mother would never approve of, a man who wasn’t her fiancé.
Afrah shivered, not from the chill of the shop’s air conditioning but from the weight of her own thoughts. She could almost hear her mother's voice, scolding her, calling her 'beghairat" for shaming the family. Her stomach twisted at the idea.
And yet, despite the fear and guilt, she couldn’t stop herself when it came to Vishal. He made her lose control, made her forget who she was supposed to be. Around him, she didn’t feel like Sohail’s dutiful fiancée, the girl her parents had raised to be a good wife. Around him, she felt alive, reckless, and consumed by desires she hadn’t known she had.
He had made her do things she never thought she’d allow anyone,things that felt dirty, forbidden. And she’d enjoyed them. God help her, but she had.
Her cheeks flushed as she thought of the night in his car. If Sohail’s call hadn’t interrupted them, if they weren’t confined by the cramped space of the vehicle... would she have given herself to him completely?
Afrah didn’t know. And that terrified her. Because a part of her knew that with Vishal, she was capable of crossing lines she never thought she’d approach.Her thought interrupt by a buzz on her phone.
She got a text from Vishal:
Vishal:What are you doing?
Afrah:Shopping with mom at Chandni Chowk.
Vishal: What are u shopping?
Afarh: not shoping but just browsing , through the lengha store.
Afrah’s fingers tightened around her phone, her heart racing. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her. It felt almost illegal, chatting like this with Vishal—her boss, the man who had been between her thighs just days ago—while standing in a shop filled with lehengas and sarees meant for her wedding to Sohail.
Her ammi:Afrah, look at this one. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Afrah nodded automatically, her mind far from the glittering fabric. All she could think about was the stark contrast between the life she was supposed to live and the secret she was desperately trying to keep hidden.
Her mother held up the light green Anarkali dress, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Afrah, this one will look stunning on you. Try it, beta.”
Afrah hesitated, glancing at her ammi.She went to the trial room.
As she stood in the confined space, dbanging the green Anarkali over herself, her phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen.
Vishal:Send me pics of you in the dress.
She bit her lip, torn between the absurdity of the situation and the strange thrill of his demand.
Afrah stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the green Anarkali so it dbangd perfectly over her curves. The soft fabric flowed elegantly, hugging her in all the right places. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at her phone. Her heart raced as she unlocked it, her fingers trembling slightly.
She took some snaps of her with the anarkali dress.
Her mind was conflicted. "Why am I even doing this?" she thought, yet she didn’t stop. With each picture, a part of her wanted to see his reaction.
After snapping a few more, she stared at the gallery of photos, debating whether to send them. The memory of his lips on her and the messages he’d sent earlier lingered in her mind, making her pulse quicken. But she shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
“Afrah, are you done?” her ammi called from outside, pulling her back to reality.
“Yes, just a minute!” she replied, quickly tucking her phone away and stepping out to show her mother the dress.
Her ammi clasped her hands together, a wide smile spreading across her face as Afrah stepped out of the trial room.
“This is it,” her mother declared, her voice filled with excitement. “The green Anarkali suits you perfectly. You look stunning, beta. Sohail will be speechless when he sees you in this.”
Afrah offered a small smile, trying to focus on her mother’s enthusiasm instead of the turmoil brewing inside her.
Slipping back into the trial room, her hand automatically reached for her phone. Against her better judgment, she scrolled to Vishal’s chat and attached the pictures she had taken earlier.
She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button.
"Delivered."
Vishal: "God, you look so gorgeous. But I’ve imagined you in something sexier, like a lehenga."
Afrah: "Why is that?"
Vishal: "A figure like yours deserves to flaunt a little. Besides, with a lehenga, it’d be so much easier to reach your lips…"
Her cheeks burned as she read his text, a flurry of emotions overwhelming her.
Afrah’s fingers hesitated over the keypad, her heart pounding. Part of her wanted to shut down the conversation, but another part—a dangerous, thrilling part—wanted to know what he’d say next. Against her better judgment, she typed back.
Afrah: "You’re impossible."
Quickly locking her phone, she stepped out of the trial room.
Afrah sat beside her ammi, pretending to admire the intricate embroidery of a bridal lehenga as her fingers tapped rapidly on her phone under the table.
Her phone buzzed,
Vishal:"I can still taste you, Afrah. God, you tasted like nectar."
Her cheeks flushed, and she immediately typed back.
Afrah:"Good, because it was a one-time thing."
Her phone buzzed almost instantly.
Vishal:"Oh, don’t be so cruel. Have some mercy."
She bit her lip to keep from smiling, stealing a quick glance at her ammi, who was chatting with the shopkeeper about a lehenga.
Afrah:"You’re a naughty boy, Vishal."
Vishal:"And naughty boys don’t get anything?"
Her fingers paused over the keypad, a smirk playing on her lips. She typed back, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt.
Afrah:"Exactly."
She should’ve felt ashamed, flirting with her boss via text while sitting next to her mother, of all people, in a shop filled with wedding dresses meant for her future with Sohail. But the thrill was undeniable, and it coursed through her like a forbidden current.
Her ammi suddenly turned to her. “What are you doing on your phone, Afrah? Look at this l lehenga”
Afrah jumped, quickly locking her phone and putting on a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Ammi, I’ll focus.”
Her mother nodded, satisfied, and Afrah reached for the lehenga, feeling her pulse quicken again as her phone vibrated in her lap.
Afrah felt her fingers trembling as she read Vishal’s latest message, her breath catching in her throat.
Vishal:"I want to taste it again, Afrah—lick it, kiss it, bite it—with your soft thighs wrapped around my head."
A shiver ran down her spine, and she pressed her lips together, trying to keep her composure as her ammi held up another dress for her opinion.
“Afrah, are you even paying attention?” her mother asked, frowning.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, Ammi, it’s beautiful.”
But her focus wasn’t on the lehenga or her mother anymore. Wetness crept between her thighs, and she cursed herself for letting Vishal get under her skin like this. She should stop. She had to stop. But somehow, she found herself typing a reply.
Afrah:"Then you’ll have to beg. On your knees."
Her pulse quickened the moment she sent it, and her palms grew clammy. She stared at the screen, watching for his response.
It came almost immediately.
Vishal:"Oh, sure, I’ll be on my knees if that’s what you want to play. Fine, I’ll beg. But I’ll get what I want in the end. Wear a skirt tomorrow to the office."
Afrah’s heart raced, her fingers hovering over the screen as she reread his message. What had she done? What game had she started?
She tried to shake off the heat rising inside her, glancing nervously at her ammi. Her mother was busy chatting with the shopkeeper, oblivious to the storm brewing within her daughter.
Afrah swallowed hard, slipping her phone into her bag. Her mind whirled with thoughts of tomorrow and what wearing that skirt could lead to.
In the office:
Afrah sat at her desk, her fingers absently tapping on the keyboard as her mind wandered. She glanced down at the long, hand-block-printed blue skirt she’d carefully chosen this morning. It flowed gracefully around her legs, modest yet alluring in its own way. Her simple white T-shirt added to her understated elegance, but the outfit wasn’t what had her nerves tingling.
She was waiting.
Her heart raced every time someone walked past her cubicle, her anticipation making her stomach churn. What if he didn’t make a move? Or worse, what if he did?
Her thoughts flickered back to a few nights ago—the way his mouth had worked magic, pulling sensations from her body she hadn’t thought possible. She felt a heat rising within her, pooling low in her abdomen. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her thighs pressing together as wetness began to build.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself, trying to focus on the document open on her screen. But her mind wouldn’t listen. The excitement, the fear, the forbidden thrill of it all—it was overwhelming.
I’ll only let him kiss me,she decided firmly, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. Nothing more.
But even as she tried to set boundaries in her mind, her body betrayed her. Her heart raced, her breaths came quicker, and she knew deep down that if Vishal pushed just a little, her resolve would crumble.
And then she heard it—a knock on the edge of her cubicle. Her breath hitched as she turned to see him standing there, his dark eyes locked onto hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
“Afrah,” Vishal said, his voice smooth and low, “you have a minute?”
Her heart thudded against her chest, and she nodded, standing on shaky legs. “Of course,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she followed him to his office, her mind raced with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Afrah’s heart raced as she stepped into Vishal’s cabin, the air charged with unspoken tension. He stood by the large glass window, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, gazing at the city sprawled below. The skyline shimmered under the afternoon sun, but it was his commanding presence that drew her attention.
“Come here,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet authority.
She hesitated, then walked over, stopping a few steps behind him.
“Look at how small the world seems from up here,” Vishal said, nodding toward the view.
Afrah moved closer, her eyes following his gaze. She stared down at the bustling streets far below, the people and cars reduced to mere dots.
“You have all the potential to be at the top,” Vishal said, his tone thoughtful, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he glanced at her outfit.
Afrah frowned slightly, unsure of where this conversation was heading. She thought he’d be quick to make his move, to devour her like last time. But instead, his words were laced with something deeper—something she couldn’t quite decipher.
“At the top, you can be free,” he continued, his voice softening as he moved closer to her side. “Full of yourself, doing what you please, without hesitation or fear of repercussions.”
His words hung in the air as he stepped behind her. Afrah felt a shiver course through her body as his hand brushed her waist, his touch deliberate yet restrained. She stood frozen, staring out of the glass, her breath quickening as he leaned closer.
“With all my money and influence, I feel powerful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate now, “but you… you have power over me, Afrah. And you know that.”
Her stomach twisted at his confession, her mind a whirl of emotions. Before she could respond, he gently turned her away from the window, guiding her to his chair.
“Sit,” he commanded softly.
Confused but unable to resist, she did as he said, sinking into the plush leather seat. Vishal lowered himself to his knees in front of her, an action that sent her pulse racing.
“You know what powerful people do, Afrah?” he asked, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “They play people at their whim.”
He placed his hands on either side of her chair, his expression both serious and teasing.
“Like you have over me.”
Slowly, he reached for her feet, his fingers brushing against her ankles as he slipped off her shoes. Afrah’s breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t deny the thrill of the moment, but a part of her still wondered how far this would go.
Vishal’s eyes never left hers as he brought her pinkish, fair toe to his mouth, his lips brushing against her delicate skin. His tongue flicked over her toe, tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent an unexpected jolt of sensation through her body.
Afrah froze, her breath hitching as she watched him. She was confused, aroused, and utterly mesmerized by the sight of her boss—this powerful, handsome man—treating her toe as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
His tongue teased and played with her, his movements unhurried, almost reverent. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her mind unable to process how something so simple could feel so intimate, so electric.
She looked at him, her cheeks burning with both embarrassment and desire. This was Vishal—the confident, dominant stud everyone admired—kneeling before her, indulging in her like she was a rare delicacy.
Her body betrayed her confusion, heat pooling in her core as his lips pressed a lingering kiss on her toe before meeting her gaze with a smirk that sent shivers down her spine.
Afrah’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazed down at him. Vishal, the confident, powerful man who commanded respect and authority from everyone, was kneeling before her, his expression raw with desire. The sight sent a wave of conflicting emotions coursing through her—empowerment mingled with an undeniable arousal that made her thighs clench involuntarily.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto hers as he spoke, his voice low and pleading. “May I kiss your pussy?”
Her entire body shivered at his words, heat pooling between her legs. The idea of such a dominant man begging at her feet stirred something deep within her, a sense of control she’d never felt before. And yet, her arousal threatened to overwhelm her, every fiber of her being aching to feel his mouth on her again.
She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the armrest of the chair. Words failed her as her mind spun with indecision, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate her. Could she resist him? Did she even want to?
Vishal remained there, waiting for her answer, his gaze unwavering, his desire palpable. The moment stretched between them, electric and intoxicating, as she struggled with the power she now held over him—and the power he had over her body.
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice trembling with both hesitation and desire, surrendering completely to the moment.
Vishal’s hands moved with purpose, his fingertips brushing along her thighs as he reached for the hem of her skirt. Slowly, he pushed the fabric higher, his deliberate pace igniting every nerve in her body. Her breathing grew uneven as he bunched the skirt around her waist, fully exposing her thighs to his intense gaze.
He paused, his fingers finding the edge of her panty. His dark eyes flicked up to hers, silently asking for permission. She gave him the faintest nod, her chest heaving as anticipation coiled tightly inside her.
With deliberate slowness, he hooked his fingers around the delicate fabric and slid it down her legs, letting it linger briefly at her knees before pulling it completely free. Holding the garment in his hand, he brought it to his face, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply.
The gesture left her stunned, her cheeks burning as a fresh wave of heat surged through her body. She bit her lip, watching as he savored the scent with a satisfied smirk. “You smell irresistible,” he murmured, his voice low and full of praise, before setting the panty aside.
Now, she sat in his chair, her skirt pushed up to her waist, her most private self completely exposed. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and she felt the undeniable wetness between her thighs—a silent confession of her arousal.
Vishal knelt before her, his hands resting firmly on her thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin. He leaned in, his face inches away, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. His eyes burned with desire as he gazed up at her, his lips curling into a confident smirk.
“You’re perfect, Afrah,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Absolutely perfect.”
She said nothing as he let his thumbs rest lightly over her waist, the pressure of his fingers on her inner thighs causing her pussy to burn with desire. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to steady her racing breath. Her fingers curled around the headrest behind him, the smooth leather pressing against her skin, grounding her as the tension built within her.
That's when Vishal grabs her by the waist and forces her thighs open, flattening the palm of his right hand over her aching pussy"
He rubs her pussy in gentle circles, his movements hypnotizing, and she presses her head against the chair as he does it. He runs his index finger down the length of her aching pussy a few times, then finally rests his fingertip over her clit, gently pressing down on it. She feels electricity crackling up her spine, her heart pumping adrenaline into her bloodstream as her thoughts scatter. She can barely think right now. Sinful images flood her mind, each portraying something so deliciously wicked that she has to take another deep breath to try and push these thoughts into some hidden corner.
As he speaks, he rubs her clit with the precision of a man that has more experience than the common mortal, and she let a purr tumble out of her mouth.
he lets his index finger fall from her clit, his finger running down the length of her pussy lips, parting her folds and sliding his finger inside her pussy, doing it so slowly that her mind almost explodes. When he presses his fingertip against her G-spot, her eyes start rolling in their orbits, and she feels her insides clenching hard, already anticipating a violent orgasm.
Her thighs began to tremble, the pressure building as she was on the edge of release. A soft, strained moan slipped from her lips, but she quickly tried to suppress it, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Just as she was about to lose control, his hand suddenly stopped, pulling away with maddening precision. She whimpered, her body aching for more, her pulse racing in frustration as she looked at him, needing him to push her over the edge.
Their eyes met, a silent exchange of unspoken desire. Her body ached with lust, every muscle in her being screaming for release. Her eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him, silently begging for him to continue, to push her over the edge. The tension in the air was thick, and she could feel every inch of her body trembling with need, her skin burning under his gaze.
He brings his hand back to her pussy, letting his thumb press against her clit before sliding one more finger inside her. Flicking his wrist, he begins fingering her, fast and hard from the start, while at the same time stroking her clit with a controlled fury.
"Feeling lightheaded, she rocks her hips softly, the coming and going motion of her body matching the way he pistons his fingers into her. 'Your pussy needs me, Afrah. Look how wet it is,' he whispers, and his words are like poison: they infiltrate her mind, planting seeds of desire. She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from succumbing to his spell.
“You like it, don’t you? You’re a fucking tease, aren’t you?” he asks.
He fingers her so hard that, even though she opens her mouth to reply, no words come out. She just lets out a violent sigh, her voice quivering like an out-of-tune violin. “Yes, you are,” he answers his own question, handling her pussy and clit masterfully. So masterfully that she already feels that sweet pressure building inside her, pinching her skin from the inside and filling her muscles with raw tension. “Oh, God, oh, God,” she repeats over and over again, her mind going blank as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over it. Right now, if you asked where she is… she wouldn’t be able to answer.She’s so lost in the moment that she doesn’t even know if she can say she’s fully conscious — she’s walking that thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness, stuck in limbo while ecstasy crushes her from both sides. And it feels absolutely perfect.
His finger playing her pussy like a masterful musician finding the perfect note. Every touch sent electric shivers of pleasure racing through her body. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, her skin burning under his touch. Her mind spun, her body on the edge of surrender, ready to break free. Just as she teetered on the brink of release, he pulled away, his fingers halting abruptly, leaving her suspended in a maddening ache of need.
She whimpered, her eyes burning with frustration, irritation, and a simmering anger laced with lust as she stared at him. His gaze, however, was fixed on his fingers, glistening with the evidence of her desire, a silent power shift between them. The sight of it only fueled her need, her chest rising and falling with the tension that hummed between them, as she silently fumed and craved more.
Vishal: "Look how wet you are for me, and yet you stop me from tasting it." His voice is hoarse and filled with lust. "I want this pussy. I need it."
She grabbed his head, pulling it toward her inner thighs, frustration and lust mixing in her eyes.
“How much do you want it? How much do you need it?” she asked, her voice thick with anger and raw lust, eyes burning with a hunger that matched the fire coursing through her. Her body quivered, aching for him to give in, her frustration mounting with every second.
“More than I need the air to breathe, Afrah,” he says.
“You said you wanted to kiss my pussy didn’t you? Then kiss it” she ask him, my heart feeling like a war drum inside my chest.
She placed her heel against the seat next to his face, tangling her fingers in his hair and yanking on it, pulling him toward her as she moved her hips forward. Taking control, she let him press his face against her wet pussy without wasting a second. She threw her head back, a moan escaping as Vishal’s tongue pushed past her inner lips, jabbing at her insides. More than kissing or sucking, he devoured her with an urgent need, like a man who had just discovered the most marvelous thing in the world.
Vishal’s tongue glided over her wetness with slow, deliberate strokes, the slick sounds of tounge and pussy in the charged silence of the room. His eyes, dark and smoldering, locked onto hers, holding her captive in his gaze. Each flick of his tongue was unhurried, tracing the delicate folds like an artist savoring his masterpiece. The heat of his breath mixed with the cool air, sending shivers across her skin as he explored her with an intoxicating mix of precision and hunger. The room seemed to blur around them, the only focus the fire igniting between his touch and her trembling body.
His hands gripped her ass cheeks, and he opened his mouth wide, crushing it with hunger.Oh, Vishal,” she sighs, moving her hips and rubbing her pussy against his face, the tip of his nose brushing against her clit. His hands are still on her ass cheeks, his fingers digging into her flesh, keeping her in place. “I… I… Oh, God, I love it,” she moans, yanking on his hair so hard she’s surprised she didn’t tear any out. He doesn’t respond — after all, his mouth is busy — but she can almost feel his answer: ‘Of course you love it.’ Gritting her teeth, she keeps thrusting against his face. Still gripping her ass, he spreads her cheeks wide and caresses her crack with one finger, running it up and down, always slowing down when he passes over her hole. Her mind starts to boil with anticipation, wondering what his next move will be.
His tongue moved with fervor, lapping up her juices like a cat savoring milk, each stroke deliberate and unyielding. His dark, piercing eyes never left hers, holding her in a trance as his hands gripped her soft thighs firmly, anchoring her in place. The contrast of his strength and the tender caress of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rippling through her, her body responding to his every move.
Now holding his hand still, he presses his index finger against her asshole and, slowly and carefully, begins to slide it in. She holds her breath as he does, her whole body tensing up so much that her muscles feel as if they’re about to pop like a balloon. Sliding his finger in and out of her ass with a gentle rhythm, he then takes his other hand and presses down on her clit. He strokes it in time with the pace at which he’s fingering her, and even his tongue seems to slow down so that all of him moves in perfect sync.
She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. She was in her boss's cabin, her thighs around his face, as Vishal, a man who could have any woman he wanted, used his mouth on her. All of this was happening in his office, behind closed doors, while outside, no one had any idea what was going on inside the room.
“I think I’m gonna—Oh God! Ammi!” she whimpered, desperate not to get caught, a high-voltage current surging through her body, charging her like a battery. Inside her skull, a storm raged, scattering her sanity and throwing it against the walls of her mind. She felt a ball of fire grow in the pit of her stomach, then explode like a supernova, its flaming arms spreading across her body. “OH GOD!” she shouted, her throat raw from the effort. “SO GOOD!” she continued, her muscles tense before succumbing to a series of spasms. She remained like that for what felt like an eternity, the orgasm completely shattering her sense of time, before collapsing on top of Vishal as the flames of ecstasy slowly died out inside her.
Rolling to the side, she lay on the floor, her head resting against his. She kept her eyes closed, taking long, deep breaths, her lungs feeling as if they were on fire and ice at the same time.
To be continue.....
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