06-02-2025, 08:35 PM
Chapter 30: An Illusion of Escape: Part 1
In the after hours of the evening, the corner cabin of Human resources department in the Zonal controlling office of Pragati Bank, echoed with the sound of muffled cries and ragged breathing.
"Ahhhh... Ahhhhhh... Not so rough, sir… Pleaseee…" the young woman whimpered, her voice strained, a mix of pain and reluctant pleasure escaping her lips.
"Shut up and take it like the desperate little slut you are," Toppo growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. The woman lay bent over his desk, her body trembling under his overpowering grip. Her salwar was pooled around her ankles, while her panties were tugged down just enough to expose her. His cock plunged into her with rough, relentless thrusts, the desk creaking beneath the force of his movements. Toppo's hands gripped her wrists tightly, pinning them behind her back and arching her body toward him in a position that left her entirely at his mercy. His every movement was calculated, each thrust designed to remind her of the control he wielded- not just over her body, but over her entire future.
"You want me to reconsider your transfer, don't you?" he hissed into her ear, his tone mocking and cruel. "Because if you don't, I could easily start a disciplinary action against you for insubordination and send you to the most remote, godforsaken corner of this state. But if you keep me happy..." His voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken promise hanging in the air like a noose.
The woman, her face pressed against the cold surface of the desk, bit her lip to stifle her cries. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she forced herself to endure, knowing she had no other choice.
Toppo, was at it again. Ever since he became the head of Human resource, many women had fallen victim to his schemes—coerced through promises of favorable postings or blackmailed with the threat of investigations into minor indiscretions. He wielded power like a weapon, preying on those desperate enough to comply.
Today’s target was no different. Transferred to a desolate branch far from her family, she had come seeking leniency. What she found instead was a devil in a suit, offering salvation at the steepest price.
Toppo’s lust had been simmering all morning, ignited by the explicit videos sent by Patode. The clips of Shipra, writhing and moaning under Patode’s control, had driven him to the brink of madness. He was horny all day shagging multiple times but when a second, much longer and more graphic video containing a threesome was sent by Patode this morning along with his plan, one that promised not only Shipra’s complete submission but also Toppo’s ultimate revenge against Alok., Toppo’s arousal surged, and his need became unbearable.
Luck, or rather his calculated manipulation, had provided the perfect outlet. The woman before him was more desperate than he had anticipated, agreeing to his depraved proposition without much resistance.
"Good girl," Toppo sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he continued his rough movements. "You’ll get your cushy posting, but only if you make this worth my while."
Toppo’s grip tightened as he drove himself deeper, his eyes glazed with a mix of lust and dark ambition. In his mind, it wasn’t the desperate woman sprawled out before him—it was Shipra. Every cry, every shuddering moan fueled his depraved fantasies, intensifying his pace.
“Soon, Shipra… very soon,” he murmured under his breath, his voice low and guttural. “You’ll be right here, bent over this desk, just like this bitch, your married cunt wrapped around my dick. I’ll ruin you. And that wimp, Alok, will watch helplessly as I claim you, as I make you mine in every way possible. I'll make him a cuck, forced to clean up my mess. Every time I fill you up, I’ll make him lick my cum right off you, watch him choke on his misery. Seeing his loyal wife begging me for more, moaning my name in pleasure, he'll realize he messed with a wrong man, and my revenge will be complete. ”
The woman beneath him whimpered, her pleas barely audible as her face pressed harder against the desk.
“No more… no more, sir… please…” she choked out, her body shaking from the relentless assault.
But Toppo was lost in his twisted reverie. His hands roamed roughly over her back, gripping her shoulders as he leaned in, his hot breath brushing against her ear.
His movements grew more brutal, fuelled by the dark pleasure of his imaginings. The woman beneath him sobbed softly, her muffled cries absorbed by the cold, uncaring walls of the office. She was nothing more than a vessel for his power trip, a pawn in the grander scheme he had orchestrated in his mind.
The room reeked of sweat and domination, a silent witness to yet another act of vile exploitation. Each thrust, each whispered obscenity, was a testament to Toppo’s insatiable hunger for control and his boundless corruption.
***********************************************
Earlier in the day....
Sitting alone in her cabin, Shipra felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The dull hum of office chatter beyond the closed door barely registered in her mind as she stared blankly at the stack of files on her desk. Her thoughts, however, were miles away, lost in the chaos of emotions swirling within her.
She had crossed a line. Not just any line, but one so deeply ingrained within her that she had never even considered approaching it, let alone stepping over it. And yet, here she was—on the other side. There was no undoing what had happened, no erasing the way she had given in so completely, surrendering to Patode with a reckless abandon that defied everything she had once believed about herself.
But it wasn’t just the act itself that haunted her. It wasn’t just the betrayal, the infidelity, or the crude reality of what she had done. What truly unsettled her—what sent a thrill of fear rippling down her spine—was the way it made her feel.
The freedom. The sheer, intoxicating exuberance she had felt in those stolen moments with Patode.
With him, she wasn’t just Shipra, the dutiful wife, the responsible mother, the respectable bank manager who always followed the rules. With him, she had become someone else entirely—someone uninhibited, raw, driven purely by desire. She had let herself go in ways she never had before, given in to urges she had buried for years, and the worst part was… she had loved it.
That terrified her more than anything.
Because if she could enjoy something so forbidden, if she could crave it even now, long after it was over—then who was she really?
Had she been lying to herself all these years? Was the woman she had always thought she was just a façade, a carefully crafted version of herself built to meet the expectations of her marriage, her family, and society?
And if that was the case… then who was she becoming now?
The thought sent a shiver of uncertainty through her. After ending her torrid affair with Viresh, Shipra had started a new life with Alok making the right choices, the safe choices, yet here she was, standing at the precipice of something dangerous, something exhilarating, something that could shatter everything she had built.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or dive deeper.
And then, there was the guilt. The suffocating, inescapable guilt of betraying Alok.
No matter how inconsiderate he had been, no matter how many of her wishes and needs he had overlooked, Alok was still her husband. The father of her child. The man who had accepted her without question, never prying into her past, never judging her because of it. She had once thought of that as love, as security. But now, after what she had done, after what she had allowed to happen, she wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.
Her fingers idly traced the edge of her desk as her mind wavered between reason and reckless passion. Because no matter how much she tried to suppress it, she couldn’t deny the thrill coursing through her veins. She felt alive again. Patode had awakened something within her—something dark, dangerous, and utterly intoxicating. He was everything Alok wasn’t: attentive, assertive, an unrelenting lover who made her feel desired in ways she had long forgotten. The feeling of being desired again, being valued and craved was overwhelming the guilt she was feeling towards her infidelity.
But at what cost?
The very thing she had justified this affair for—her family, her stability—was now the most fragile part of her life. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. One wrong step, one moment of carelessness, and everything she had built would come crumbling down.
Her head ached from the relentless push and pull of her emotions, and she exhaled deeply, pressing her fingers against her temples. Just as she was about to force herself back into the monotony of work, the sudden ring of her phone jolted her.
Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the screen.
A video call from Alok.
For a split second, she froze, her fingers tightening around the device. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.
Taking a quick, steadying breath, she composed herself and answered the call, forcing a neutral expression onto her face.
“Where were you, Shipra?” Alok’s voice came through the speaker, his tone laced with frustration. His face, partially shadowed by the bright light behind him, was fixed in a slight frown. “I called you twice this morning. No response. And you didn’t even bother to call back.”
“I’m sorry, Alok,” Shipra said, her voice carefully measured. “I overslept and was running late for work. It just slipped my mind.” The excuse rolled off her tongue effortlessly, something she had rehearsed in her mind the moment she left Patode's house.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Alok said, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. He was about to continue when his expression suddenly shifted. His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned her face, then moved lower, scrutinizing her appearance.
Shipra felt her stomach drop.
“Why do you look so flushed?” Alok asked, suspicion creeping into his tone. Then his eyes narrowed, and his frown deepened. “And where is your mangalsutra, bindi, and sindoor?”
Shipra’s breath hitched.
Her hand shot instinctively to her neck, then to her forehead. Her fingers met nothing but bare skin. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as flashes of the previous night assaulted her mind—Patode yanking off her mangalsutra, tossing it carelessly into the dustbin, the feeling of complete submission as she let herself be taken over and over again, and then rushing straight to the branch after dropping Namrata off, completely forgetting to put her marital symbols back on.
“Oh…” The small gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Alok’s frown deepened further at her reaction.
“I must have forgotten in a hurry, Alok,” she quickly composed herself, forcing a sheepish smile. “I was running late this morning and didn’t realize it.”
Alok didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Be a little more cautious, Shipra,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm. “What has gotten into you? It’s not like you to be this careless.”
Shipra forced a nod, hoping he would drop the subject, but Alok continued, his tone shifting slightly, carrying a hint of complaint.
“Anyway, I was calling to let you know that Aarav hasn’t been well since yesterday,” he said. “This morning, he had a high fever. You should take a few days off and come visit him. You haven’t been home since you joined the branch.”
Shipra’s heart clenched at the mention of her son.
“What happened to Aarav?” she asked, concern replacing her earlier panic. “Is he alright?”
“No, Shipra,” Alok sighed, rubbing his forehead. “He’s been vomiting frequently and seems really weak. I had to leave for coaching, so Mom is looking after him for now, but it would be better if you came here yourself.” Shipra’s concern quickly turned into anger.
“You had to leave for coaching?” she shot back, her voice laced with disbelief. “Your son is sick with a high fever, and instead of staying home with him, you went to your damn coaching?”
Alok exhaled, already sensing the argument brewing. “Shipra, I couldn’t miss today. We had an important interaction scheduled with an in-service IPS officer—an alumnus of our coaching institute. It was a valuable—”
“Oh, of course,” Shipra cut him off, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Your alumni interaction is more important than our son’s health, right?”
“Shipra, it’s not like that, mom is there—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Alok,” she snapped. “You expect me to drop everything and come running the moment you call, even knowing how hard it is for me to get leave as a branch in-charge. But when it’s your turn to prioritize Aarav, you can’t? Because of coaching?”
Alok sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shipra, you know how crucial this is for me. I—”
“Yeah, yeah, it's all about you isn't it Alok,” she cut him off again, shaking her head in frustration. “Fine. I’ll speak to my superiors and see if I can get leave. But with the campaign work going on, it won’t be easy.” Her voice was tight with anger. “I’ll let you know by evening.”
And before Alok could say another word, she ended the call.
Her hands were trembling—not just from anger, but from the overwhelming mix of emotions crashing down on her. Guilt, frustration, resentment, worry.
Her son was sick, and she hadn’t even known until now. What kind of mother did that make her?
And yet, she couldn’t ignore the bitter taste of hypocrisy in Alok’s demands. He expected her to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, always ready to sacrifice her time and wishes for the family, but when it was his turn to do the same, he conveniently had other “important commitments.”
She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. There was no time to drown in emotions now.
She quickly dialed home, desperate to hear her son’s voice, to reassure herself that he was okay.
***********************************************
"Yes bhau, everything is arranged. This Sunday would be the last day of that motherfucker Saad Hasan," Bhiva’s voice dripped with satisfaction and simmering rage as he leaned in, his fists clenched on the rickety wooden table of the roadside tea shop. The air was thick with the scent of boiling tea and burning tobacco, but neither he nor Patode seemed to care. Their focus was solely on the dangerous game they were about to play.
Patode took a slow drag from his cigarette, his lips curling into a smirk as he exhaled. "I knew I could count on you, Bhiva," he said, patting Bhiva’s back with a firm, almost brotherly grip. "I told you I would get you your revenge. And when I give my word, I make damn sure to keep it."
Bhiva nodded, his expression a mixture of gratitude and steely determination. "Yeah, Bhau, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for Sanju… and for giving me the chance to settle the score myself." His voice was thick with emotion, but his resolve was unwavering.
Patode leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly as he studied Bhiva. There was a certain fire in the young man’s eyes, but there was also something else—something lurking beneath the surface. Doubt.
Patode’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. He had expected unshakable loyalty from Bhiva, but the way he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking told him that there was a lingering question gnawing at his mind.
And then, as if reading his thoughts, Patode spoke. "Speak freely Bhiva. Is there something troubling you?"
"Bhau…" Bhiva's voice dropped slightly, carrying the weight of suspicion planted in his head by Alok. "There’s something I need to ask you. Something that’s been on my mind."
Patode’s grip on his cigarette tightened ever so slightly.
Bhiva looked him dead in the eye. "Did you know beforehand that Sanju was going to be abducted? And…" He hesitated before pushing forward, his gut telling him he might regret the question. "Was the new branch manager of Kasegaon in any way responsible for it?"
For the first time, Patode’s expression flickered. It was brief, almost imperceptible. A slight narrowing of the eyes, a barely-there twitch of his jaw—signs of irritation, or perhaps surprise. Patode took his time answering. He took another drag, letting the tension settle between them before exhaling. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and even, showing no trace of the inner turmoil he had quickly masked.
"What rubbish, Bhiva?" he said, shaking his head, his tone laced with practiced disbelief. "You really think I would’ve just sat back and let it happen if I knew beforehand?" He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Bhiva’s. "And no, Shipra Madam wasn’t involved in any of this mess. Sanju was the one who approached her first, bringing her evidence of the fraud. If anything, she tried to help your sister."
Bhiva listened carefully, searching for any cracks in Patode’s words.
Patode sighed, reaching out and gripping Bhiva’s shoulder firmly. "Don’t burden yourself with these useless thoughts, my boy," he said, his voice softer now, almost fatherly. "Focus on the real enemy—the bastard who dared to lay a hand on your sister. Saad Hasan."
Bhiva exhaled slowly, nodding not entirely sure what to make of it. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe Alok was just trying to mess with his head. Whatever the case, he had a mission now. Revenge.
Patode watched him closely, his smirk returning. Good. Keep your focus where I want it, Bhiva. He thought to himself.
With that, Patode took one last drag of his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and crushed it beneath his boot. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now.
***********************************************
Shipra entered Namrata's room and shut the door behind her, exhaling a long, weary sigh. The weight of the past few hours pressed down on her, leaving her exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Without a word, she slumped onto Namrata’s bed, her body sinking into the mattress as though it were the only thing holding her together. Her head fell forward, hands supporting her temples, her shoulders hunched in defeat.
Namrata, who had been scrolling through her phone, looked up and frowned. “What’s wrong Shipra?” she asked, shifting closer. “You look troubled.”
Shipra didn’t respond immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Namrata sighed, already guessing where this was going. “Listen, if you’re spiraling over what happened with Patode again, then I swear I’m done consoling you, girl,” she said, shaking her head. “You made a choice. You can’t keep running in circles about it. Either live with it or do something about it, but stop tormenting yourself.”
Shipra lifted her head slightly, her eyes glistening with something other than guilt this time. “It’s not that, Namrata,” she murmured. Her voice was weak, unsteady. “It’s Aarav.”
At the mention of her son’s name, Namrata’s expression softened. She closed the distance between them, wrapping a reassuring arm around Shipra’s shoulders. “What happened to Aarav? Is he okay?”
Shipra sniffled and wiped at her face, trying to keep herself composed. “Alok called. Aarav has been sick since yesterday,” she admitted, her voice breaking on the last word. “He’s been vomiting all night, running a high fever, and I’m not there to take care of him. He was too weak even to talk to me over the phone."
Namrata squeezed her shoulder. “Then go, Shipra. What’s stopping you?”
“Alok asked me the same, to take leave and come home,” Shipra continued, ignoring Namrata’s simple solution. “But it’s not that easy. You know how difficult it is for me to take leave right now. I just joined here. The campaign work is in full swing, and Toppo—” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “If I ask that lecherous bastard for leave, he’ll see it as another opportunity to hit on me. He already makes my life miserable as it is. I can’t give him another reason.”
Namrata rolled her eyes. “Then don’t tell him. Just leave. What’s the worst that could happen? A loss of pay?”
Shipra sighed heavily. “It’s not just that, Namrata. I was made the coordinator of the campaign for the entire district. If I disappear without informing him, it’ll be considered an act of indiscipline. That could lead to a disciplinary inquiry, and if that happens, it’ll reflect badly on my profile. It could affect my promotion.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “And you know Toppo—he’s just waiting for a reason to break me, to force me into playing his dirty games.”
Namrata smirked. “Would’ve been easier if you had just slept with him before your transfer,” she teased, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Shipra shot her a glare. “Don't you start now Namrata. I already have enough problems. At least you should be on my side.”
Namrata held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to lighten the mood. But tell me something…” She eyed Shipra closely. “Alok said something else. Didn't he?”
Shipra hesitated, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.
Namrata’s smirk faded. “You don’t have to answer. I can guess, knowing Alok.” Her voice hardened. “He did it again, didn’t he? Pushed the responsibility onto you while he kept his own hands free.”
“He has his own pressures, Namrata,” Shipra murmured, though even she didn’t sound convinced. “It’s his last attempt. He can’t afford distractions. He needs to focus on his studies. His mother is there to look after Aarav—”
“Oh, come on, Shipra! Don’t defend him. At least not in front of me,” Namrata snapped. “How many times do I have to say this? Alok is selfish. He always has been. And what, he couldn’t skip one goddamn day of coaching to be with his son?” She scoffed, standing up, pacing the room in frustration. “What difference would one or two days make in his ‘big preparation’? If he had any real chances of passing, he would’ve done it by now.”
Shipra remained silent, staring at the floor, her mind battling with everything Namrata was saying—because deep down, she knew it was true.
Namrata exhaled sharply and picked up her phone. “That’s it. I’m calling Patode.”
Shipra’s eyes widened. “What? No—”
“I don’t want to hear a word,” Namrata cut her off, raising a hand to silence her. “I’m leaving tomorrow for my interview, and I can’t leave you in such a difficult situation. You need help, and whether you like it or not, Patode is the best person for it.”
Before Shipra could argue, Namrata pressed the call button.
Shipra swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure which was worse—asking Toppo for leave or owing Patode another favor.
Shipra hesitated for a moment, her fingers clenching the bedsheet as she struggled with the decision forming in her mind. Then, in a barely audible voice, she whispered, “Ask him to come here. I’ll talk to him directly. It’s better if I handle this myself.” She paused, her gaze dropping to her lap as a faint flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “And… tell him to bring my mangalsutra as well. I—I forgot it there this morning.”
Namrata smirked, tilting her head playfully. “Sure. Anything else?”
Shipra shot her a glare, her cheeks burning hotter. “Just make the call, Namrata,” she muttered, looking away.
***********************************************
As soon as Patode picked up, his voice carried an easy charm. “Namrata, I was just about to call you myself.”
“Listen, Patode,” Namrata said, her tone turning businesslike. “Shipra is in a little trouble. Could you drop by?”
Immediately, his voice shifted, laced with concern. “What happened? All good? She isn’t fretting about what happened, is she?”
“No, it’s not that,” Namrata assured him. “She wants to talk to you directly. And—oh, bring her mangalsutra too. She forgot it at your place this morning.”
There was a brief pause before Patode sighed, a mix of amusement and exhaustion in his tone. “I’d love to come, Namrata, but I am in a middle of something. It’s been a hectic day, and it will take me a while to reach you. I’m always happy to help, but can you two come here instead? It’d save some time and effort. If that doesn’t work, I’ll be there in a couple hours or so.”
Namrata glanced at Shipra, relaying his response. “He’s a in a middle of something Shipra, and it’ll take him some time to get here. Why don’t you just tell him over the phone? You can grab your mangalsutra in the morning, or we can go to his place instead. What do you think?”
Shipra hesitated, conflicted. Just asking Patode for another favor had already made her uneasy. Now, making him come all the way to her felt even worse. Yet, she needed her mangalsutra—if Alok called again, she couldn’t afford any more slip-ups. She bit her lip, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could tell him over the phone, but… what if Alok calls again? I need my mangalsutra.”
Namrata made the decision for her without another thought. “That settles it, then. We’re coming over, Patode. And you better have dinner ready for us.”
Patode chuckled on the other end, his voice carrying an unmistakable smirk. “Tell Shipra not to worry. Whatever it is, I’ll get it sorted. See you both soon.”
As he ended the call, his lips curled into a knowing smile. He pocketed his phone, shifting slightly as a familiar heat stirred within him. “The day just keeps getting better,” he muttered to himself.
His fingers traced absentmindedly over his crotch as he swung a leg over his bike. The thought of Shipra willingly stepping back into his den—especially after everything that had happened—sent a thrill through him.
“Get ready for another night of fun, my boy,” he murmured, revving his bike’s engine as he sped toward home, anticipation coursing through his veins.
***********************************************
Continued to next post...
In the after hours of the evening, the corner cabin of Human resources department in the Zonal controlling office of Pragati Bank, echoed with the sound of muffled cries and ragged breathing.
"Ahhhh... Ahhhhhh... Not so rough, sir… Pleaseee…" the young woman whimpered, her voice strained, a mix of pain and reluctant pleasure escaping her lips.
"Shut up and take it like the desperate little slut you are," Toppo growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. The woman lay bent over his desk, her body trembling under his overpowering grip. Her salwar was pooled around her ankles, while her panties were tugged down just enough to expose her. His cock plunged into her with rough, relentless thrusts, the desk creaking beneath the force of his movements. Toppo's hands gripped her wrists tightly, pinning them behind her back and arching her body toward him in a position that left her entirely at his mercy. His every movement was calculated, each thrust designed to remind her of the control he wielded- not just over her body, but over her entire future.
"You want me to reconsider your transfer, don't you?" he hissed into her ear, his tone mocking and cruel. "Because if you don't, I could easily start a disciplinary action against you for insubordination and send you to the most remote, godforsaken corner of this state. But if you keep me happy..." His voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken promise hanging in the air like a noose.
The woman, her face pressed against the cold surface of the desk, bit her lip to stifle her cries. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she forced herself to endure, knowing she had no other choice.
Toppo, was at it again. Ever since he became the head of Human resource, many women had fallen victim to his schemes—coerced through promises of favorable postings or blackmailed with the threat of investigations into minor indiscretions. He wielded power like a weapon, preying on those desperate enough to comply.
Today’s target was no different. Transferred to a desolate branch far from her family, she had come seeking leniency. What she found instead was a devil in a suit, offering salvation at the steepest price.
Toppo’s lust had been simmering all morning, ignited by the explicit videos sent by Patode. The clips of Shipra, writhing and moaning under Patode’s control, had driven him to the brink of madness. He was horny all day shagging multiple times but when a second, much longer and more graphic video containing a threesome was sent by Patode this morning along with his plan, one that promised not only Shipra’s complete submission but also Toppo’s ultimate revenge against Alok., Toppo’s arousal surged, and his need became unbearable.
Luck, or rather his calculated manipulation, had provided the perfect outlet. The woman before him was more desperate than he had anticipated, agreeing to his depraved proposition without much resistance.
"Good girl," Toppo sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he continued his rough movements. "You’ll get your cushy posting, but only if you make this worth my while."
Toppo’s grip tightened as he drove himself deeper, his eyes glazed with a mix of lust and dark ambition. In his mind, it wasn’t the desperate woman sprawled out before him—it was Shipra. Every cry, every shuddering moan fueled his depraved fantasies, intensifying his pace.
“Soon, Shipra… very soon,” he murmured under his breath, his voice low and guttural. “You’ll be right here, bent over this desk, just like this bitch, your married cunt wrapped around my dick. I’ll ruin you. And that wimp, Alok, will watch helplessly as I claim you, as I make you mine in every way possible. I'll make him a cuck, forced to clean up my mess. Every time I fill you up, I’ll make him lick my cum right off you, watch him choke on his misery. Seeing his loyal wife begging me for more, moaning my name in pleasure, he'll realize he messed with a wrong man, and my revenge will be complete. ”
The woman beneath him whimpered, her pleas barely audible as her face pressed harder against the desk.
“No more… no more, sir… please…” she choked out, her body shaking from the relentless assault.
But Toppo was lost in his twisted reverie. His hands roamed roughly over her back, gripping her shoulders as he leaned in, his hot breath brushing against her ear.
His movements grew more brutal, fuelled by the dark pleasure of his imaginings. The woman beneath him sobbed softly, her muffled cries absorbed by the cold, uncaring walls of the office. She was nothing more than a vessel for his power trip, a pawn in the grander scheme he had orchestrated in his mind.
The room reeked of sweat and domination, a silent witness to yet another act of vile exploitation. Each thrust, each whispered obscenity, was a testament to Toppo’s insatiable hunger for control and his boundless corruption.
***********************************************
Earlier in the day....
Sitting alone in her cabin, Shipra felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The dull hum of office chatter beyond the closed door barely registered in her mind as she stared blankly at the stack of files on her desk. Her thoughts, however, were miles away, lost in the chaos of emotions swirling within her.
She had crossed a line. Not just any line, but one so deeply ingrained within her that she had never even considered approaching it, let alone stepping over it. And yet, here she was—on the other side. There was no undoing what had happened, no erasing the way she had given in so completely, surrendering to Patode with a reckless abandon that defied everything she had once believed about herself.
But it wasn’t just the act itself that haunted her. It wasn’t just the betrayal, the infidelity, or the crude reality of what she had done. What truly unsettled her—what sent a thrill of fear rippling down her spine—was the way it made her feel.
The freedom. The sheer, intoxicating exuberance she had felt in those stolen moments with Patode.
With him, she wasn’t just Shipra, the dutiful wife, the responsible mother, the respectable bank manager who always followed the rules. With him, she had become someone else entirely—someone uninhibited, raw, driven purely by desire. She had let herself go in ways she never had before, given in to urges she had buried for years, and the worst part was… she had loved it.
That terrified her more than anything.
Because if she could enjoy something so forbidden, if she could crave it even now, long after it was over—then who was she really?
Had she been lying to herself all these years? Was the woman she had always thought she was just a façade, a carefully crafted version of herself built to meet the expectations of her marriage, her family, and society?
And if that was the case… then who was she becoming now?
The thought sent a shiver of uncertainty through her. After ending her torrid affair with Viresh, Shipra had started a new life with Alok making the right choices, the safe choices, yet here she was, standing at the precipice of something dangerous, something exhilarating, something that could shatter everything she had built.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or dive deeper.
And then, there was the guilt. The suffocating, inescapable guilt of betraying Alok.
No matter how inconsiderate he had been, no matter how many of her wishes and needs he had overlooked, Alok was still her husband. The father of her child. The man who had accepted her without question, never prying into her past, never judging her because of it. She had once thought of that as love, as security. But now, after what she had done, after what she had allowed to happen, she wasn’t sure what to call it anymore.
Her fingers idly traced the edge of her desk as her mind wavered between reason and reckless passion. Because no matter how much she tried to suppress it, she couldn’t deny the thrill coursing through her veins. She felt alive again. Patode had awakened something within her—something dark, dangerous, and utterly intoxicating. He was everything Alok wasn’t: attentive, assertive, an unrelenting lover who made her feel desired in ways she had long forgotten. The feeling of being desired again, being valued and craved was overwhelming the guilt she was feeling towards her infidelity.
But at what cost?
The very thing she had justified this affair for—her family, her stability—was now the most fragile part of her life. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. One wrong step, one moment of carelessness, and everything she had built would come crumbling down.
Her head ached from the relentless push and pull of her emotions, and she exhaled deeply, pressing her fingers against her temples. Just as she was about to force herself back into the monotony of work, the sudden ring of her phone jolted her.
Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the screen.
A video call from Alok.
For a split second, she froze, her fingers tightening around the device. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.
Taking a quick, steadying breath, she composed herself and answered the call, forcing a neutral expression onto her face.
“Where were you, Shipra?” Alok’s voice came through the speaker, his tone laced with frustration. His face, partially shadowed by the bright light behind him, was fixed in a slight frown. “I called you twice this morning. No response. And you didn’t even bother to call back.”
“I’m sorry, Alok,” Shipra said, her voice carefully measured. “I overslept and was running late for work. It just slipped my mind.” The excuse rolled off her tongue effortlessly, something she had rehearsed in her mind the moment she left Patode's house.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Alok said, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. He was about to continue when his expression suddenly shifted. His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned her face, then moved lower, scrutinizing her appearance.
Shipra felt her stomach drop.
“Why do you look so flushed?” Alok asked, suspicion creeping into his tone. Then his eyes narrowed, and his frown deepened. “And where is your mangalsutra, bindi, and sindoor?”
Shipra’s breath hitched.
Her hand shot instinctively to her neck, then to her forehead. Her fingers met nothing but bare skin. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as flashes of the previous night assaulted her mind—Patode yanking off her mangalsutra, tossing it carelessly into the dustbin, the feeling of complete submission as she let herself be taken over and over again, and then rushing straight to the branch after dropping Namrata off, completely forgetting to put her marital symbols back on.
“Oh…” The small gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Alok’s frown deepened further at her reaction.
“I must have forgotten in a hurry, Alok,” she quickly composed herself, forcing a sheepish smile. “I was running late this morning and didn’t realize it.”
Alok didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Be a little more cautious, Shipra,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm. “What has gotten into you? It’s not like you to be this careless.”
Shipra forced a nod, hoping he would drop the subject, but Alok continued, his tone shifting slightly, carrying a hint of complaint.
“Anyway, I was calling to let you know that Aarav hasn’t been well since yesterday,” he said. “This morning, he had a high fever. You should take a few days off and come visit him. You haven’t been home since you joined the branch.”
Shipra’s heart clenched at the mention of her son.
“What happened to Aarav?” she asked, concern replacing her earlier panic. “Is he alright?”
“No, Shipra,” Alok sighed, rubbing his forehead. “He’s been vomiting frequently and seems really weak. I had to leave for coaching, so Mom is looking after him for now, but it would be better if you came here yourself.” Shipra’s concern quickly turned into anger.
“You had to leave for coaching?” she shot back, her voice laced with disbelief. “Your son is sick with a high fever, and instead of staying home with him, you went to your damn coaching?”
Alok exhaled, already sensing the argument brewing. “Shipra, I couldn’t miss today. We had an important interaction scheduled with an in-service IPS officer—an alumnus of our coaching institute. It was a valuable—”
“Oh, of course,” Shipra cut him off, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Your alumni interaction is more important than our son’s health, right?”
“Shipra, it’s not like that, mom is there—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Alok,” she snapped. “You expect me to drop everything and come running the moment you call, even knowing how hard it is for me to get leave as a branch in-charge. But when it’s your turn to prioritize Aarav, you can’t? Because of coaching?”
Alok sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shipra, you know how crucial this is for me. I—”
“Yeah, yeah, it's all about you isn't it Alok,” she cut him off again, shaking her head in frustration. “Fine. I’ll speak to my superiors and see if I can get leave. But with the campaign work going on, it won’t be easy.” Her voice was tight with anger. “I’ll let you know by evening.”
And before Alok could say another word, she ended the call.
Her hands were trembling—not just from anger, but from the overwhelming mix of emotions crashing down on her. Guilt, frustration, resentment, worry.
Her son was sick, and she hadn’t even known until now. What kind of mother did that make her?
And yet, she couldn’t ignore the bitter taste of hypocrisy in Alok’s demands. He expected her to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, always ready to sacrifice her time and wishes for the family, but when it was his turn to do the same, he conveniently had other “important commitments.”
She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. There was no time to drown in emotions now.
She quickly dialed home, desperate to hear her son’s voice, to reassure herself that he was okay.
***********************************************
"Yes bhau, everything is arranged. This Sunday would be the last day of that motherfucker Saad Hasan," Bhiva’s voice dripped with satisfaction and simmering rage as he leaned in, his fists clenched on the rickety wooden table of the roadside tea shop. The air was thick with the scent of boiling tea and burning tobacco, but neither he nor Patode seemed to care. Their focus was solely on the dangerous game they were about to play.
Patode took a slow drag from his cigarette, his lips curling into a smirk as he exhaled. "I knew I could count on you, Bhiva," he said, patting Bhiva’s back with a firm, almost brotherly grip. "I told you I would get you your revenge. And when I give my word, I make damn sure to keep it."
Bhiva nodded, his expression a mixture of gratitude and steely determination. "Yeah, Bhau, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for Sanju… and for giving me the chance to settle the score myself." His voice was thick with emotion, but his resolve was unwavering.
Patode leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly as he studied Bhiva. There was a certain fire in the young man’s eyes, but there was also something else—something lurking beneath the surface. Doubt.
Patode’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. He had expected unshakable loyalty from Bhiva, but the way he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking told him that there was a lingering question gnawing at his mind.
And then, as if reading his thoughts, Patode spoke. "Speak freely Bhiva. Is there something troubling you?"
"Bhau…" Bhiva's voice dropped slightly, carrying the weight of suspicion planted in his head by Alok. "There’s something I need to ask you. Something that’s been on my mind."
Patode’s grip on his cigarette tightened ever so slightly.
Bhiva looked him dead in the eye. "Did you know beforehand that Sanju was going to be abducted? And…" He hesitated before pushing forward, his gut telling him he might regret the question. "Was the new branch manager of Kasegaon in any way responsible for it?"
For the first time, Patode’s expression flickered. It was brief, almost imperceptible. A slight narrowing of the eyes, a barely-there twitch of his jaw—signs of irritation, or perhaps surprise. Patode took his time answering. He took another drag, letting the tension settle between them before exhaling. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and even, showing no trace of the inner turmoil he had quickly masked.
"What rubbish, Bhiva?" he said, shaking his head, his tone laced with practiced disbelief. "You really think I would’ve just sat back and let it happen if I knew beforehand?" He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Bhiva’s. "And no, Shipra Madam wasn’t involved in any of this mess. Sanju was the one who approached her first, bringing her evidence of the fraud. If anything, she tried to help your sister."
Bhiva listened carefully, searching for any cracks in Patode’s words.
Patode sighed, reaching out and gripping Bhiva’s shoulder firmly. "Don’t burden yourself with these useless thoughts, my boy," he said, his voice softer now, almost fatherly. "Focus on the real enemy—the bastard who dared to lay a hand on your sister. Saad Hasan."
Bhiva exhaled slowly, nodding not entirely sure what to make of it. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe Alok was just trying to mess with his head. Whatever the case, he had a mission now. Revenge.
Patode watched him closely, his smirk returning. Good. Keep your focus where I want it, Bhiva. He thought to himself.
With that, Patode took one last drag of his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and crushed it beneath his boot. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now.
***********************************************
Shipra entered Namrata's room and shut the door behind her, exhaling a long, weary sigh. The weight of the past few hours pressed down on her, leaving her exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Without a word, she slumped onto Namrata’s bed, her body sinking into the mattress as though it were the only thing holding her together. Her head fell forward, hands supporting her temples, her shoulders hunched in defeat.
Namrata, who had been scrolling through her phone, looked up and frowned. “What’s wrong Shipra?” she asked, shifting closer. “You look troubled.”
Shipra didn’t respond immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Namrata sighed, already guessing where this was going. “Listen, if you’re spiraling over what happened with Patode again, then I swear I’m done consoling you, girl,” she said, shaking her head. “You made a choice. You can’t keep running in circles about it. Either live with it or do something about it, but stop tormenting yourself.”
Shipra lifted her head slightly, her eyes glistening with something other than guilt this time. “It’s not that, Namrata,” she murmured. Her voice was weak, unsteady. “It’s Aarav.”
At the mention of her son’s name, Namrata’s expression softened. She closed the distance between them, wrapping a reassuring arm around Shipra’s shoulders. “What happened to Aarav? Is he okay?”
Shipra sniffled and wiped at her face, trying to keep herself composed. “Alok called. Aarav has been sick since yesterday,” she admitted, her voice breaking on the last word. “He’s been vomiting all night, running a high fever, and I’m not there to take care of him. He was too weak even to talk to me over the phone."
Namrata squeezed her shoulder. “Then go, Shipra. What’s stopping you?”
“Alok asked me the same, to take leave and come home,” Shipra continued, ignoring Namrata’s simple solution. “But it’s not that easy. You know how difficult it is for me to take leave right now. I just joined here. The campaign work is in full swing, and Toppo—” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “If I ask that lecherous bastard for leave, he’ll see it as another opportunity to hit on me. He already makes my life miserable as it is. I can’t give him another reason.”
Namrata rolled her eyes. “Then don’t tell him. Just leave. What’s the worst that could happen? A loss of pay?”
Shipra sighed heavily. “It’s not just that, Namrata. I was made the coordinator of the campaign for the entire district. If I disappear without informing him, it’ll be considered an act of indiscipline. That could lead to a disciplinary inquiry, and if that happens, it’ll reflect badly on my profile. It could affect my promotion.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “And you know Toppo—he’s just waiting for a reason to break me, to force me into playing his dirty games.”
Namrata smirked. “Would’ve been easier if you had just slept with him before your transfer,” she teased, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Shipra shot her a glare. “Don't you start now Namrata. I already have enough problems. At least you should be on my side.”
Namrata held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to lighten the mood. But tell me something…” She eyed Shipra closely. “Alok said something else. Didn't he?”
Shipra hesitated, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.
Namrata’s smirk faded. “You don’t have to answer. I can guess, knowing Alok.” Her voice hardened. “He did it again, didn’t he? Pushed the responsibility onto you while he kept his own hands free.”
“He has his own pressures, Namrata,” Shipra murmured, though even she didn’t sound convinced. “It’s his last attempt. He can’t afford distractions. He needs to focus on his studies. His mother is there to look after Aarav—”
“Oh, come on, Shipra! Don’t defend him. At least not in front of me,” Namrata snapped. “How many times do I have to say this? Alok is selfish. He always has been. And what, he couldn’t skip one goddamn day of coaching to be with his son?” She scoffed, standing up, pacing the room in frustration. “What difference would one or two days make in his ‘big preparation’? If he had any real chances of passing, he would’ve done it by now.”
Shipra remained silent, staring at the floor, her mind battling with everything Namrata was saying—because deep down, she knew it was true.
Namrata exhaled sharply and picked up her phone. “That’s it. I’m calling Patode.”
Shipra’s eyes widened. “What? No—”
“I don’t want to hear a word,” Namrata cut her off, raising a hand to silence her. “I’m leaving tomorrow for my interview, and I can’t leave you in such a difficult situation. You need help, and whether you like it or not, Patode is the best person for it.”
Before Shipra could argue, Namrata pressed the call button.
Shipra swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure which was worse—asking Toppo for leave or owing Patode another favor.
Shipra hesitated for a moment, her fingers clenching the bedsheet as she struggled with the decision forming in her mind. Then, in a barely audible voice, she whispered, “Ask him to come here. I’ll talk to him directly. It’s better if I handle this myself.” She paused, her gaze dropping to her lap as a faint flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “And… tell him to bring my mangalsutra as well. I—I forgot it there this morning.”
Namrata smirked, tilting her head playfully. “Sure. Anything else?”
Shipra shot her a glare, her cheeks burning hotter. “Just make the call, Namrata,” she muttered, looking away.
***********************************************
As soon as Patode picked up, his voice carried an easy charm. “Namrata, I was just about to call you myself.”
“Listen, Patode,” Namrata said, her tone turning businesslike. “Shipra is in a little trouble. Could you drop by?”
Immediately, his voice shifted, laced with concern. “What happened? All good? She isn’t fretting about what happened, is she?”
“No, it’s not that,” Namrata assured him. “She wants to talk to you directly. And—oh, bring her mangalsutra too. She forgot it at your place this morning.”
There was a brief pause before Patode sighed, a mix of amusement and exhaustion in his tone. “I’d love to come, Namrata, but I am in a middle of something. It’s been a hectic day, and it will take me a while to reach you. I’m always happy to help, but can you two come here instead? It’d save some time and effort. If that doesn’t work, I’ll be there in a couple hours or so.”
Namrata glanced at Shipra, relaying his response. “He’s a in a middle of something Shipra, and it’ll take him some time to get here. Why don’t you just tell him over the phone? You can grab your mangalsutra in the morning, or we can go to his place instead. What do you think?”
Shipra hesitated, conflicted. Just asking Patode for another favor had already made her uneasy. Now, making him come all the way to her felt even worse. Yet, she needed her mangalsutra—if Alok called again, she couldn’t afford any more slip-ups. She bit her lip, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could tell him over the phone, but… what if Alok calls again? I need my mangalsutra.”
Namrata made the decision for her without another thought. “That settles it, then. We’re coming over, Patode. And you better have dinner ready for us.”
Patode chuckled on the other end, his voice carrying an unmistakable smirk. “Tell Shipra not to worry. Whatever it is, I’ll get it sorted. See you both soon.”
As he ended the call, his lips curled into a knowing smile. He pocketed his phone, shifting slightly as a familiar heat stirred within him. “The day just keeps getting better,” he muttered to himself.
His fingers traced absentmindedly over his crotch as he swung a leg over his bike. The thought of Shipra willingly stepping back into his den—especially after everything that had happened—sent a thrill through him.
“Get ready for another night of fun, my boy,” he murmured, revving his bike’s engine as he sped toward home, anticipation coursing through his veins.
***********************************************
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