08-12-2024, 10:11 AM
(This post was last modified: 15-12-2024, 12:33 AM by Betacucky. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
"Say it again," he demanded, his voice slicing through the heavy air. Before I could muster the words again, he interrupted sharply, "And mean it this time."
Compelled by the force of my humiliation, I dropped to my knees, an automatic response to his overwhelming authority. It felt as though my body was no longer mine to command, each movement orchestrated by the commanding tone of Anand's voice that filled the room. His laugh was sharp and mocking, cutting through me as he observed my visible discomfort mixed with an involuntary arousal.
"Much better," he remarked, his smirk broadening.
"Please, sir—" The word 'sir' slipped out unintentionally, solidifying the unsettling shift in our dynamics. "Please don't...fuck my wife." The repetition of my plea was both humiliating and necessary, a desperate call for mercy in a situation rapidly spiraling beyond my control.
Anand stepped closer, each movement calculated to intimidate. I instinctively retreated, only to find my escape blocked by the solid frame of the bar cabinet. Trapped, I watched as he closed in, his presence overwhelming.
The fabric of his boxers stretched taut over his form, the nearness of his large bulge a visceral reminder of the control he held over the situation. The room felt claustrophobically small, suffused only with the electric tension between us and the bitter taste of my own forced submission.
"You're not very good at this begging thing, are you? Looks like I'll have to make your wife my slut afterall," Anand declared, his voice laced with a cold finality.
"No!" My protest was feeble, my voice shaking, betraying the closeness of my tears—a reaction that even surprised me.
In a swift, brutal motion, Anand's hand struck my face hard, the slap resonating like a gunshot through the room. The sting of the blow was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the deeper, more profound pain of realizing my utter helplessness, kneeling submissively at his feet.
"You don't say no to me. Do you understand?" His tone was icy, the authority in his voice undisputed.
Tears welled up and began streaming down my cheeks as I managed a weak, "Yes, Sir."
"Aw..." Anand's laugh was merciless, laced with cruelty. "I doubt she'll find you very appealing after seeing what a little crybaby you are. Don’t you think so?" His words cut deeper, mocking my pain and further stripping away any remnants of dignity.
"Now strip down and show me your tiny little Lulli," he commanded with a sneer, making it clear resistance was futile.
With a sinking heart, I complied, my hands shaking as I unfastened my boxers. They fell to the floor with a soft thud. His laughter erupted, booming around the room, as he mocked, "Oh my god, I feel bad for Ananya. Mine was bigger than this back in high college," his words dripping with disdain. This additional mockery was like a knife to my already bruised ego.
Then, probing further, Anand asked, "Is she the only one you've been with?"
Unable to meet his eye, I could only nod silently, my admission sending a thrill through him.
"Oh, so she has never ever been fucked properly," Anand mused aloud, smirking to himself. His excitement was palpable as he declared, "This is going to be interesting." Without any hint of hesitation, he stripped off his boxers, revealing a size that seemed to defy reality, akin to something one might see in a porn film. My gasp was involuntary, the shock of it catching me off guard.
His grin grew broader. "Keeping up? Don’t force me to discipline you again," he threatened, his hand raised menacingly as a stark reminder.
"Good," he noted as I quickly nodded, forcing myself to stay present. "All you have to do to prevent me from demolishing your wife with this... is to stop me."
Confused and overwhelmed, I stammered, "How?"
"It’s simple. Stop me if you think you're man enough," he mocked, his voice filled with derision, clearly dismissing any threat from me.
"But let's be real," he continued, eyeing my trembling, exposed body, "there’s nothing you can really do, is there?" His tone was dismissive.
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. "I asked you a question!" he thundered, his voice echoing menacingly through the room.
My head jerked back as he grabbed my hair, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain from me. "No! No, there's nothing I can do! Please let me go," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face as the bitter realization of my helplessness sank in.
Anand's response was a harsh slap across my face, harder than before. The force of the impact left me reeling, pain throbbing through my cheek, feeling as though it might split. "I told you to start showing some respect!" he barked, his hand striking again, slightly less forceful but equally painful.
Tears flowed freely now, and I sobbed, "Please... please, sir!"
"Please what?" he barked, his tone unforgiving.
Dizzy from the blows and the acute pain, I struggled to remember his earlier commands. "I... I..." "Well?" he snapped, his impatience palpable.
At last, the words tumbled out in a rush of shame. "Please sir, I..." but before I could finish, he interrupted sharply, "Repeat after me, you little bitch. Please." With his hand still tangled in my hair, I cried out, "Please!"
"Sir!"
"There's nothing..." he prompted, tightening his grip menacingly.
Scrambling to collect my thoughts, then remembering, I managed, "There's nothing I can do! Please fuck my wife!"
His laughter was cruel and mocking as he spun me around and pushed me over the counter, facing forward. "Again!" he demanded harshly.
Panic surged through me, but I was paralyzed, especially as I heard some noise at the door. Turning my head, I saw Manavi and Ananya standing there, shock written all over Ananya’s face. Ananya was wearing the sheer white lingerie I had given her, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Seeing her husband on his knees, begging for this humiliation, must have been devastating.
As I glanced over, Ananya stood frozen at the doorway, all color drained from her face. Her eyes were wide, staring at the scene in front of her, as shock slowly turned into understanding. The white lingerie she wore stood out against the dark horror in her eyes, almost reminding us of the innocence we thought this night would hold.
Next to her, Manavi had a smirk on her face, whispering something into Ananya’s ear that made her straighten up. This left me even more confused, trying to piece together what Manavi could have said to convince Ananya to wear her lingerie.
For a moment, she looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something or scream, but no sound came out. It was as if the sight of her husband like this—humiliated by someone we once called a friend—was too much for her to take in.
Her hands started shaking; it spread like a wave through her arms, making her grip the door frame for support. The fabric of her lingerie fluttered with each breath she took, showing just how vulnerable she felt.
As Anand turned away, momentarily distracted by a message on his phone, the room's oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh heavier on me. On my knees I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my shaking hands. The reality of the situation felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. How had a simple evening turned into this?
Anger and fear mingled within me, creating a tumultuous storm that threatened to overwhelm my senses. 'Is this really happening?' I wondered, my mind struggling to grasp the sequence of events that led here. The sight of Ananya in her lingerie, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, replayed in my mind over and over. Each replay twisted the knife of guilt deeper into my gut. I felt responsible, utterly powerless—a spectator in my own life.
Questions raced through my mind. 'What could I have done differently? Is there still time to change the outcome?'
Anand's hand suddenly struck the side of my head sharply, snapping me back to the grim reality of the moment. "Say it now!" he barked.
"Please! Please, fuck her" I whimpered.
"Fuck who?" he snarled, his voice thick with lust and anticipation.
"Please, sir, fuck my wife," I forced the words out, slow and heavy, each one dripping with a mixture of dread and resignation.
"No," he corrected harshly, his hand clamping around my jaw, forcing me to face Manavi and Ananya directly. "Say it again, and use her name this time."
Struggling against the painful grip on my hair and face, I confronted my ultimate defeat. I looked at my wife briefly and then faced Anand "Please, sir. Please fuck my wife, Ananya. Fuck her hard," I choked out, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face. "Please, fuck her with your big dick," the words fell from my lips in a desperate cascade, a plea to end this torment.
Compelled by the force of my humiliation, I dropped to my knees, an automatic response to his overwhelming authority. It felt as though my body was no longer mine to command, each movement orchestrated by the commanding tone of Anand's voice that filled the room. His laugh was sharp and mocking, cutting through me as he observed my visible discomfort mixed with an involuntary arousal.
"Much better," he remarked, his smirk broadening.
"Please, sir—" The word 'sir' slipped out unintentionally, solidifying the unsettling shift in our dynamics. "Please don't...fuck my wife." The repetition of my plea was both humiliating and necessary, a desperate call for mercy in a situation rapidly spiraling beyond my control.
Anand stepped closer, each movement calculated to intimidate. I instinctively retreated, only to find my escape blocked by the solid frame of the bar cabinet. Trapped, I watched as he closed in, his presence overwhelming.
The fabric of his boxers stretched taut over his form, the nearness of his large bulge a visceral reminder of the control he held over the situation. The room felt claustrophobically small, suffused only with the electric tension between us and the bitter taste of my own forced submission.
"You're not very good at this begging thing, are you? Looks like I'll have to make your wife my slut afterall," Anand declared, his voice laced with a cold finality.
"No!" My protest was feeble, my voice shaking, betraying the closeness of my tears—a reaction that even surprised me.
In a swift, brutal motion, Anand's hand struck my face hard, the slap resonating like a gunshot through the room. The sting of the blow was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the deeper, more profound pain of realizing my utter helplessness, kneeling submissively at his feet.
"You don't say no to me. Do you understand?" His tone was icy, the authority in his voice undisputed.
Tears welled up and began streaming down my cheeks as I managed a weak, "Yes, Sir."
"Aw..." Anand's laugh was merciless, laced with cruelty. "I doubt she'll find you very appealing after seeing what a little crybaby you are. Don’t you think so?" His words cut deeper, mocking my pain and further stripping away any remnants of dignity.
"Now strip down and show me your tiny little Lulli," he commanded with a sneer, making it clear resistance was futile.
With a sinking heart, I complied, my hands shaking as I unfastened my boxers. They fell to the floor with a soft thud. His laughter erupted, booming around the room, as he mocked, "Oh my god, I feel bad for Ananya. Mine was bigger than this back in high college," his words dripping with disdain. This additional mockery was like a knife to my already bruised ego.
Then, probing further, Anand asked, "Is she the only one you've been with?"
Unable to meet his eye, I could only nod silently, my admission sending a thrill through him.
"Oh, so she has never ever been fucked properly," Anand mused aloud, smirking to himself. His excitement was palpable as he declared, "This is going to be interesting." Without any hint of hesitation, he stripped off his boxers, revealing a size that seemed to defy reality, akin to something one might see in a porn film. My gasp was involuntary, the shock of it catching me off guard.
His grin grew broader. "Keeping up? Don’t force me to discipline you again," he threatened, his hand raised menacingly as a stark reminder.
"Good," he noted as I quickly nodded, forcing myself to stay present. "All you have to do to prevent me from demolishing your wife with this... is to stop me."
Confused and overwhelmed, I stammered, "How?"
"It’s simple. Stop me if you think you're man enough," he mocked, his voice filled with derision, clearly dismissing any threat from me.
"But let's be real," he continued, eyeing my trembling, exposed body, "there’s nothing you can really do, is there?" His tone was dismissive.
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. "I asked you a question!" he thundered, his voice echoing menacingly through the room.
My head jerked back as he grabbed my hair, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain from me. "No! No, there's nothing I can do! Please let me go," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face as the bitter realization of my helplessness sank in.
Anand's response was a harsh slap across my face, harder than before. The force of the impact left me reeling, pain throbbing through my cheek, feeling as though it might split. "I told you to start showing some respect!" he barked, his hand striking again, slightly less forceful but equally painful.
Tears flowed freely now, and I sobbed, "Please... please, sir!"
"Please what?" he barked, his tone unforgiving.
Dizzy from the blows and the acute pain, I struggled to remember his earlier commands. "I... I..." "Well?" he snapped, his impatience palpable.
At last, the words tumbled out in a rush of shame. "Please sir, I..." but before I could finish, he interrupted sharply, "Repeat after me, you little bitch. Please." With his hand still tangled in my hair, I cried out, "Please!"
"Sir!"
"There's nothing..." he prompted, tightening his grip menacingly.
Scrambling to collect my thoughts, then remembering, I managed, "There's nothing I can do! Please fuck my wife!"
His laughter was cruel and mocking as he spun me around and pushed me over the counter, facing forward. "Again!" he demanded harshly.
Panic surged through me, but I was paralyzed, especially as I heard some noise at the door. Turning my head, I saw Manavi and Ananya standing there, shock written all over Ananya’s face. Ananya was wearing the sheer white lingerie I had given her, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Seeing her husband on his knees, begging for this humiliation, must have been devastating.
As I glanced over, Ananya stood frozen at the doorway, all color drained from her face. Her eyes were wide, staring at the scene in front of her, as shock slowly turned into understanding. The white lingerie she wore stood out against the dark horror in her eyes, almost reminding us of the innocence we thought this night would hold.
Next to her, Manavi had a smirk on her face, whispering something into Ananya’s ear that made her straighten up. This left me even more confused, trying to piece together what Manavi could have said to convince Ananya to wear her lingerie.
For a moment, she looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something or scream, but no sound came out. It was as if the sight of her husband like this—humiliated by someone we once called a friend—was too much for her to take in.
Her hands started shaking; it spread like a wave through her arms, making her grip the door frame for support. The fabric of her lingerie fluttered with each breath she took, showing just how vulnerable she felt.
As Anand turned away, momentarily distracted by a message on his phone, the room's oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh heavier on me. On my knees I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my shaking hands. The reality of the situation felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. How had a simple evening turned into this?
Anger and fear mingled within me, creating a tumultuous storm that threatened to overwhelm my senses. 'Is this really happening?' I wondered, my mind struggling to grasp the sequence of events that led here. The sight of Ananya in her lingerie, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, replayed in my mind over and over. Each replay twisted the knife of guilt deeper into my gut. I felt responsible, utterly powerless—a spectator in my own life.
Questions raced through my mind. 'What could I have done differently? Is there still time to change the outcome?'
Anand's hand suddenly struck the side of my head sharply, snapping me back to the grim reality of the moment. "Say it now!" he barked.
"Please! Please, fuck her" I whimpered.
"Fuck who?" he snarled, his voice thick with lust and anticipation.
"Please, sir, fuck my wife," I forced the words out, slow and heavy, each one dripping with a mixture of dread and resignation.
"No," he corrected harshly, his hand clamping around my jaw, forcing me to face Manavi and Ananya directly. "Say it again, and use her name this time."
Struggling against the painful grip on my hair and face, I confronted my ultimate defeat. I looked at my wife briefly and then faced Anand "Please, sir. Please fuck my wife, Ananya. Fuck her hard," I choked out, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face. "Please, fuck her with your big dick," the words fell from my lips in a desperate cascade, a plea to end this torment.
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