05-04-2025, 08:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-04-2025, 09:31 PM by Suraj76626. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 32: Awakening to a dual life: Part 1
Constable Deshmukh was lounging in his chair, scrolling through reels on his mobile, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The station was quiet, the hum of the ceiling fan above providing a rhythmic lull to his otherwise uneventful afternoon.
“Deshmukh!”
The sharp, commanding voice cut through the silence like a whip. Startled, Deshmukh nearly dropped his phone, scrambling to attention. His pulse quickened as he turned to face Shrutika, who was now standing a few feet away, her piercing gaze drilling into him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he stammered, hastily tucking his phone into his pocket.
“Where the hell are those files I asked for?” Her tone was clipped, laced with irritation.
Deshmukh straightened, trying to regain composure. “I told Jadhav to get them from the storeroom, madam,” he declared, his voice carrying an air of self-importance. As the head constable and the most senior among the lower ranks, he had long grown accustomed to delegating tasks to his juniors, considering it beneath him to run errands himself.
Shrutika stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “Did I assign the task to Jadhav or to you?”
A heavy silence followed. Deshmukh felt the weight of her authority pressing down on him. His mouth went dry. “To me, madam,” he admitted, his voice now subdued.
“Then why the fuck are you sitting here wasting time?” Her voice was sharp, her frustration boiling over. “If I don’t have all the files on Saad Hasan on my desk within the hour, you’ll be doing night duty in Jadhav’s place—permanently. Is that clear?”
Deshmukh swallowed hard, a cold shiver running down his spine. He had heard tales of Shrutika’s efficiency, her no-nonsense approach, but this was his first time witnessing a lady officer being so rough. He had assumed, wrongly, that she would be lenient, perhaps even indulgent, like some of the senior male officers who overlooked his tendency to push work onto others.
“Y-Yes, madam! Right away!” he blurted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he turned to leave. His voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency, laced with an edge of panic.
“Jadhav! कसला वेळ लावतो आहेस? (Why the hell is it taking so long),” he bellowed as he rushed toward the storeroom, eager to salvage the situation before Shrutika’s wrath could escalate any further.
Shrutika exhaled sharply, shaking her head in exasperation as she walked back to her cabin, clearly frustrated.
*********************************************************************************************
Shipra:
No video call, Patode.
My son is sleeping right in the next room, and anyone could show up unannounced—the milkman, the newspaper guy, a neighbour.
A reply popped up almost instantly.
Patode:
Wouldn't that make it even more exciting?
From what I remember, the idea of being watched really got you going last time.
Shipra froze, her breath catching in her throat.
A hot flush crawled up her neck, her fingers tightening around the phone. She wanted to deny it, to call him out on his filthy accusations, but she couldn’t.
Because he was right.
That night, when Patode had pushed her into fucking him out in the open, she had been terrified. The thought of being caught—of some unsuspecting stranger stumbling upon them, seeing her exposed, trembling, utterly vulnerable—had sent a thrill of fear through her veins.
And yet, that fear had strangely intensified her pleasure.
She climaxed so hard that night, her entire body shattering under the force of an earth-shaking, mind-breaking orgasm. The impact left her wrecked—shaking, gasping, undone in a way she had never been before.
Even now, the memory of it sent an involuntary shiver through her.
She swallowed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.
Denying it would be useless—Patode knew her too well. And admitting it would only fuel his twisted amusement.
Shipra:
That was different…
It was a weak response, and she knew it the moment she sent it.
Patode’s reply was almost instant.
Patode:
Oh? And how exactly was it different?
There was a pause, but not long enough for her to think of a response before his next message came in, hitting her like a freight train.
Patode:
Was it because all nine inches of my meaty cock buried deep inside your sloppy, cheating cunt made you forget all about modesty? Because it made you lose that ‘dignified wife’ act and brought out the filthy little whore you really are?
Shipra’s entire body burned with shame.
She clenched her jaw, glaring at the screen, but she couldn’t ignore the deep, traitorous ache between her thighs.
The phone buzzed again.
Another video call request.
Her irritation flared, mixing dangerously with the unwanted heat simmering inside her.
Shipra:
Stop it. I’m not doing a video call. I’m not in the mood.
She expected him to back off. To taunt her some more, maybe, but at least give up on the call.
But Patode never backed off.
Patode:
I thought my unmatched humor had set the mood already.
Shipra:
It did lighten me up a little but I’m just… not in the mood for what you want.
Patode:
Well, I have a extra-large magic stick right between my legs which can get any woman in mood. Specially married cheating sluts like you.
Just pick up the call now, it's not a request Shipra.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew what would happen if she answered.
And yet…
With a sigh, she finally gave in and pressed accept.
As she received the call, the screen flickered, and there he was—Patode, grinning shamelessly, his eyes dark with amusement.
"Patode, I know I left you hanging last night but I’m not comfortable continuing it right now, that to over a video call," Shipra snapped, keeping her voice low, though the frustration in her tone was unmistakable.
A mix of panic and irritation laced her words, but Patode only smirked, leaning in closer to his camera, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Yeah? Just like you weren’t comfortable with office sex?" he murmured, his voice rich with mockery. "Just like you weren’t comfortable with a threesome with Namrata? Or the outdoor sex?"
Shipra's breath hitched. She could feel his gaze piercing through her, watching—enjoying—how his words made her squirm.
Each accusation landed like a whip, cutting through her defenses, stripping away every pretense of innocence she had left.
"And yet," Patode continued, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "here we are. Doing it nonetheless. I just love how you act so prim and proper when, deep down, you’re nothing but a cock-hungry, cheating bitch."
There was no warmth in his voice, no softness. No pretense of affection.
Just raw, unfiltered filth.
And he was savoring every second of it.
But something shifted when he noticed Shipra’s expression. She wasn’t playing along this time—wasn’t flustered in that delicious way he enjoyed. No, there was something off. Something was weighing her down. She was distracted.
Patode’s smirk softened, just a little. Not enough to shed his usual demeaning edge, but enough to slip into another role—the one that made women like Shipra weak for him.
"Hmm… seems like you really are not in the mood. It's no fun teasing you like this," His tone was almost thoughtful, but there was an unmistakable glint of manipulation in his eyes. "Okay tell me what's bothering my slut? You can share it with me. It’ll surely make you feel better." His voice was coaxing, laced with a false sense of concern that masked his true intent.
Shipra hesitated. She wasn’t the type to air her marital problems so easily, especially not to someone like Patode. She had always believed that some things should stay within the confines of marriage, that venting to an outsider would only make her weaknesses more visible.
But Patode was no longer just a colleague. No longer just a casual presence in her life.
By now, in the eyes of Shipra, he had become something more. A more considerate and understanding alternative to Alok. And that was exactly what Patode wanted her to believe.
Bit by bit, she let it out.
She told him what all had happened since yesterday—how their night together had been a complete disappointment, leaving her feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. How she had tried, genuinely tried, to reconnect with him, to spend time together like a normal married couple, only to be met with disinterest and cold rejection. How a simple attempt at intimacy had spiraled into an argument, leaving her feeling neglected, unwanted, and completely alone.
But what stung the most wasn’t just the lack of passion from Alok. But it was the way Alok had chosen to handle his suspicions.
Instead of confronting her like a man, instead of looking her in the eye and demanding the truth, he had thrown insensitive allegations at her on a whim—not because he had proof, but because he assumed. Because deep down, he had already lost the feeling of possessiveness and ownership for her.
And that was what truly disgusted her. It wasn’t the weight of guilt that consumed her this time—it was the slow-burning anger at his cowardice.
She knew she was in the wrong. She knew she had betrayed him, crossed lines she could never uncross. If Alok had called her out on it, if he had dared to take a stand and demand answers, she would have confessed. She would have faced the consequences, owned up to the mess she had made.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sulked. Avoided her. Tossed careless, gutless remarks her way as if they would make up for his lack of action.
Where was the man who was once ready to fight for her? Who once claimed her like she was the most precious thing in his life?
Gone.
Shipra let it all out without constraint. She didn’t realize it, but by confiding in Patode, she was unravelling the last threads that tied her to her husband. Every word she spoke made her more vulnerable to the man listening on the other side of the screen.
And Patode was the kind of man who knew exactly how to exploit a weakness.
He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment before scoffing. “It’s funny as well as sad, Shipra, that all this time you’ve been drowning in guilt and shame for your act of infidelity—an act, mind you, that only happened because of Alok’s incompetence as a husband in the first place—whereas he seems to have already given up his claim over you.”
He leaned back, shaking his head, his smirk deepening. “What a coward. He suspects his wife of an affair, and instead of fighting for her, demanding answers, instead of showing his anger, his possessiveness, he ignores it? As if he has nothing to do with why his wife chose to cheat on him? Pathetic."
His voice dripped with scorn, each word like a needle burrowing into Shipra’s already conflicted mind.
“He is nothing but a freeloader. A useless, spineless fool, Shipra. And here you are, wasting your time, spoiling your mood for a man who doesn’t care.”
His words slithered into her thoughts like poison, subtle yet devastating. He had sensed it—that flicker of resentment in her tone, the simmering anger buried beneath her reluctant confessions. Not guilt. Not remorse. Just frustration, a festering wound that Alok’s indifference had only deepened.
And Patode knew exactly how to exploit it.
“Fuck him, Shipra.” He leaned in closer, his expression sharp, his voice smooth yet firm. “If he can’t fight for you, if he won’t even try to hold on to what’s his, then why should you alone bear the weight of this marriage?”
She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. The logic was so simple, so cruelly tempting.
“He doesn’t care, Shipra. Not about your love, your faithfulness, or the silent sacrifices you make every day. He isn’t losing sleep over the thought of you with another man. No, because he is so preoccupied with his own trivial ambitions that he has started treating you just as a provider, as a caretaker, as a convenience. Not as a partner."
Patode paused studying Shipra's reaction and finding no counter, he continued, his manipulation.
"Let him bask in the illusion of control, let him believe he is a man worth respecting. Let him wallow in his own pathetic existence. But you? You don’t have to waste yourself waiting for a man who doesn’t even see you anymore. Live your life the way you want. Chase the desires you’ve locked away, the happiness you’ve been denying yourself. Because let’s be honest, Shipra—a cowardly little sissy like him, a man who won’t even fight for his own wife, doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He deserves to be cheated on.”
Shipra remained silent. A part of her recoiled at the words, at how brazenly he said it. But another part—the part that had spent the last few weeks drowning in self-inflicted guilt at her actions, torn between regret and defiance—felt something else.
A sickening sense of relief.
“In a way, he’s made things easier for you, Shipra,” he mused, his voice taking on a teasing, almost playful edge. “You don’t have to torture yourself with this inner conflict anymore. You don’t have to struggle with maintaining a dual life.”
He leaned in slightly, his words slithering through the cracks of her wavering conscience. “Think about it. In Ambruj, you can be mine, free to indulge in every forbidden pleasure, fulfilling all of your fantasies—and mine.” His voice dipped lower, the promise of sin wrapping around every syllable. “I'll make you feel wanted and desired by thoroughly satisfying you both physically and emotionally."
He let the words seep into her, their power amplified by the silence that stretched between them.
“And when you return home,” he continued, his tone shifting back to something almost casual, as if he were offering a practical solution to an everyday problem, “you can be the perfect, doting wife. The responsible homemaker. Taking care of your household. Playing the role you’ve always played, but this time, without expecting anything from that wimp in return.”
His smirk deepened, watching her carefully, waiting for the final crack. “No more guilt, no more conflict. Just freedom, Shipra. Freedom to have it all. Just like you always wanted.”
Shipra exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the phone. Patode’s words weren’t just sinking in. They were reshaping her thoughts, hammering against the molten iron of her mind, bending it to his will.
She hesitated, but then, as if surrendering to a tide too strong to fight, she breathed out, “Maybe you’re right, Patode. Maybe it's the right thing to do for the future of this marriage and family.”
A slow smile spread across his face. Victory was near.
“Of course, I’m right,” he said smoothly, his voice laced with confidence. “It’s a win-win for everyone, Shipra. Think about it.”
He leaned back, exuding an air of self-assurance, his words flowing effortlessly as he painted a picture of perfect, guilt-free indulgence.
“Your husband? He’ll be happy. You won’t be bothering him, won’t be demanding his attention or love. You’ll be exactly what he wants you to be—a responsible mother, a dutiful wife, quietly taking care of the household while he chases his ambitions.”
His gaze darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you? You will finally be free. Free to embrace your desires without guilt, knowing full well that Alok doesn’t care what you do, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his perfect little world.”
Patode’s fingers drummed lightly against his desk as he studied her reaction, then continued, his voice dropping an octave, dripping with sinful promise. “And as for me… well, I won't pretend I am helping you out of sheer goodwill, Shipra. I’ll be the one benefiting the most from this arrangement.”
He let that statement linger for a moment, watching her closely, then leaned in, his tone shifting to something darker, more intimate. “I get you—a stunning, sexy woman, a woman who was made for pleasure but has been shackled by expectations for far too long. And now?” His smirk widened, his voice curling around her like warm silk. “You'll be completely mine. My own personal goddess of sin. A horny slutty MILF who will be worshipped, explored, devoured by me thoroughly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound deep and knowing, his attempt to make the discussion lighter—yet undeniably erotic. “Tell me, Shipra, doesn’t that sound… delicious? No more guilt, no more torment. Just indulgence. Just pleasure. Just us.”
"How very convenient for you, Patode," Shipra said, her voice laced with sarcasm, a faint, forced smile playing on her lips. She had long exhausted every effort to reignite something—anything—with Alok. But after his apathy, his indifference, it all felt like a lost cause. There was nothing left to salvage, no embers of passion waiting to be rekindled. Perhaps this rural posting to Ambruj was a blessing in disguise, a much-needed escape for them both—one where she could finally indulge in every suppressed fantasy, live out her deepest desires without guilt. Meanwhile, Alok’s aspirations would either come to fruition or crumble under their own weight. Perhaps this was how it was always meant to be.
"But at least you’re brutally honest and upfront about it," Shipra sighed, eyeing Patode with a mix of amusement and admiration. His boldness was infuriating, yet refreshing. She could almost respect his shamelessness. At least he didn’t pretend, unlike her husband, who hid behind excuses and empty gestures. The thought still stung. Her resentment toward Alok simmered beneath the surface, fueling her recklessness.
"And what after these few months?" she asked, tilting her head, testing the waters of this dangerous liaison.
Patode shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Who knows?" His dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "Maybe you'll extend your tenure in Ambruj and continue being my slut." He winked, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Shipra let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "You would love that, wouldn’t you?"
"Oh, I would. Who wouldn’t want to keep a goddess like you in their bed?" He chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "And who knows? Maybe you'll end up getting knocked up by me. Just like Aditi."
Shipra scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Like I’d ever let that happen. You and your twisted little fetishes, Patode."
He laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Yeah? Just like you were so sure you wouldn’t fall for my advances?" His words dripped with wicked amusement. "Think about it, Shipra. It would be the perfect revenge on your pathetic husband. Imagine—he’d spend his life raising a child that isn’t even his, a living, breathing reminder of his failure. His incompetence." His fingers traced a slow, lazy pattern along her arm. "And every time you look at that child, you’ll remember us. Our nights. Our heat. Our filthy, desperate, irresistible lust."
"Oh god! Do you always have to be so vulgar and crude, Patode?" Shipra shot back, stammering a little, taken aback by the sheer audacity of his words.
Patode chuckled lazily, his smirk unwavering. He lounged back on his couch, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows over his face.
"Act all disgusted you want, but you and me both know that you love these lewd remarks and vulgar ideas. The humiliation and the dominance really makes you horny and wet," he drawled, his voice rich with satisfaction.
Shipra stiffened, raising an eyebrow at his claims, but didn't reply.
Patode stretched, his movements unhurried, entirely at ease. "Now, since I’ve so graciously helped you sort out your dilemma and even sided with you in bitching about your lousy husband—how about you return the favor?"
With a wicked smirk, he tilted the camera downward, the frame shifting to his lap. Dressed in nothing but his underwear, the hard outline of his semi-erect cock was unmistakable, pressing insistently against the fabric. He grabbed his manhood tightly, the motion teasing, taunting.
![[Image: GIF-20250405-202008-075.gif]](https://i.ibb.co/5gfStpvs/GIF-20250405-202008-075.gif)
"My little poor boy here has been patiently waiting for some attention," he said, his voice laced with playful mockery.
"In what world is that a little boy?" Shipra let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but smile at his audacity. His crude humor was inappropriate, vulgar—but strangely disarming. A twisted kind of charm.
"That's more like it. It seems I have successfully lifted your mood," Patode continued, his gaze darkening, sweeping over her through the screen, "Now why don't you stop acting like a poor neglected wife Shipra, feeling sorry for yourself and start behaving like my little slut, ready to enjoy a little digital hanky panky," His smirk widened knowingly. "Let's continue where we left from last night, before your kids wakes up and cock blocks me again."
Shipra hesitated for a bit, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall, ensuring there would be no interruptions. The quiet hum of the house only amplified the pounding of her heart. A slow, forbidden thrill curled through her, igniting something deep within.
She exhaled, a mischievous smile playing at her lips as she looked back at the screen, her hesitation melting into something far more dangerous.
"Okay… fine…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
The hesitation was evident, but so was the temptation. She knew Patode wouldn’t let it go, and deep down, she didn’t really want him to. The frustration simmering within her—the resentment toward Alok, the unmet desires—needed an outlet.
Clearing her throat, she exhaled. "Let me just make sure Aarav is asleep. Hold on."
She quickly moved out of the hall, her movements slow and careful as she made her way to Aarav’s room. The little boy was fast asleep, his breathing soft and even.
Meanwhile, back on the other side of the screen, Patode’s expression shifted into something more sinister. His fingers flew across his phone’s keyboard, sending a quick text, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
She quickly made her way back, but as she reached her bedroom’s threshold, she hesitated.
A thick tension sat heavy in her chest.
Something about stepping inside, about doing this in that bed, felt too perverse.
Too wrong.
"Why did you stop, Shipra?" Patode’s voice cut through the silence, smooth yet taunting.
"It's your bedroom, isn't it?" Patode chuckled darkly, sensing her hesitation. "What’s the matter? Why are you hesitating?," he mused, his voice a purr of satisfaction. "Don't tell me you're feeling bad for Alok now?"
His tone turned mocking. "Come now, Shipra. Your wimpy, two-pump-chump of a husband doesn't deserve your consideration anymore. Think about it—how deliciously perverse it would be. You, writhing on that bed, moaning my name, playing the perfect little cam whore for me. Right there, where you once lay as his blushing bride." Patode continued, his words cruel and deliberate, pressing into the softest, most vulnerable parts of her conscience.
Shirpa's stomach coiled with a mix of shame and something illicit. A shudder ran through her, though whether it was from revulsion or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.
Because beneath the war raging inside her, another thought whispered insidiously.
Wouldn’t it be the apt punishment?
A punishment for Alok’s indifference, for his failure to fight for her, for the way he had let their love wilt into something dull and lifeless. He had given up. Let her slip through his fingers.
So why shouldn’t she?
Her fingers trembled against the doorknob, her breath uneven.
"Go on," he whispered. "Push the door open. Be my filthy little slut in the same bed where you had your wedding night. Flame his suspicion even more, see if he is man enough to confront you."
His laughter was quiet, indulgent. "It would be the perfect way to get back at him, don’t you think?"
Shipra exhaled slowly, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a storm cloud. But her resentment towards Alok was too much for her to think straight.
And with that, she pushed the door open and entered.
**********************************************************************************************
"Hey Alok, come here, bro! Look—Chetan’s showing us his new workplace," Vaibhav called out, turning his phone toward Alok with an amused smirk. "A fucking dhaba in his hometown. Talk about a downgrade from aiming to be an IAS officer."
Chetan scoffed, unfazed. "Crack all the jokes you want, but at least I’m the one making money, loser." His voice carried an easy confidence, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Go on, Alok, take your shot too. I promise I don’t get offended as easily as you do."
Alok knew exactly what he was referring to—Chetan’s offhand comments about Shipra a few days back. He had let it get under his skin then. Now? He just didn’t have the energy.
"No, man," Alok said, shaking his head with a faint, tired smile. "It’s good that you went back and took the job. At least you knew when to call it quits."
Chetan raised an eyebrow. "That’s new," he remarked, catching the dullness in Alok’s tone.
Vaibhav frowned slightly, though it didn’t stop him from cracking a joke. "What’s up with you, dude? I thought you’d be in a way better mood now that you’re finally getting some pussy again after all those weeks." His grin widened. "Shipra’s back, so I guess your sexual fasting is officially over, huh?"
Alok forced a chuckle but ignored the comment entirely. His mind was elsewhere. As he watched Chetan over the video call, an idea formed—one that sent an uneasy ripple through his thoughts.
His gaze flickered with hesitation before he finally spoke.
"Hey, Chetan… your village is Ambruj, isn’t it?" Alok asked as he grabbed Vaibhav’s phone and stepped away from the group, seeking a more private corner. His voice was low, uncertain. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
Chetan leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Yeah, it is," he replied, then narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion. "But hold up—you need my help? Mr. Topper himself, asking me for a favor?" He let out a theatrical gasp. "Man, this does not feel right."
Then, as if a switch flipped, his expression shifted, his smirk sharpening. "Let me guess… it’s about your wife, isn’t it?" The jab was pointed, deliberate—an old grudge lingering from their previous spat.
Alok hesitated, fingers tightening around the phone. A beat of silence stretched between them.
Then, almost as quickly as the thought had come, uncertainty took hold.
"Forget it," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t even know what I’m doing." His voice wavered—conflicted, restless. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
Chetan studied him for a moment before shrugging. "Your call, man. But if you change your mind, let me know." His tone was lighter now, less taunting. "All said and done, I don’t mind helping you. You know that."
Before Alok could respond, Chetan glanced off-screen. "Anyway, I gotta go. Our main guest is about to arrive." His lips curled in amusement. "Later, Vaibhav. And Alok… don’t ignore your instinct. Sometimes, the answer’s right in front of you."
With that, the call disconnected, leaving Alok alone with his thoughts.
His grip on the phone slackened, but the unease in his chest tightened.
Was he really about to do this?
***********************************************
Continued to the next post.....
Constable Deshmukh was lounging in his chair, scrolling through reels on his mobile, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The station was quiet, the hum of the ceiling fan above providing a rhythmic lull to his otherwise uneventful afternoon.
“Deshmukh!”
The sharp, commanding voice cut through the silence like a whip. Startled, Deshmukh nearly dropped his phone, scrambling to attention. His pulse quickened as he turned to face Shrutika, who was now standing a few feet away, her piercing gaze drilling into him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he stammered, hastily tucking his phone into his pocket.
“Where the hell are those files I asked for?” Her tone was clipped, laced with irritation.
Deshmukh straightened, trying to regain composure. “I told Jadhav to get them from the storeroom, madam,” he declared, his voice carrying an air of self-importance. As the head constable and the most senior among the lower ranks, he had long grown accustomed to delegating tasks to his juniors, considering it beneath him to run errands himself.
Shrutika stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “Did I assign the task to Jadhav or to you?”
A heavy silence followed. Deshmukh felt the weight of her authority pressing down on him. His mouth went dry. “To me, madam,” he admitted, his voice now subdued.
“Then why the fuck are you sitting here wasting time?” Her voice was sharp, her frustration boiling over. “If I don’t have all the files on Saad Hasan on my desk within the hour, you’ll be doing night duty in Jadhav’s place—permanently. Is that clear?”
Deshmukh swallowed hard, a cold shiver running down his spine. He had heard tales of Shrutika’s efficiency, her no-nonsense approach, but this was his first time witnessing a lady officer being so rough. He had assumed, wrongly, that she would be lenient, perhaps even indulgent, like some of the senior male officers who overlooked his tendency to push work onto others.
“Y-Yes, madam! Right away!” he blurted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he turned to leave. His voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency, laced with an edge of panic.
“Jadhav! कसला वेळ लावतो आहेस? (Why the hell is it taking so long),” he bellowed as he rushed toward the storeroom, eager to salvage the situation before Shrutika’s wrath could escalate any further.
Shrutika exhaled sharply, shaking her head in exasperation as she walked back to her cabin, clearly frustrated.
*********************************************************************************************
Shipra:
No video call, Patode.
My son is sleeping right in the next room, and anyone could show up unannounced—the milkman, the newspaper guy, a neighbour.
A reply popped up almost instantly.
Patode:
Wouldn't that make it even more exciting?
From what I remember, the idea of being watched really got you going last time.
Shipra froze, her breath catching in her throat.
A hot flush crawled up her neck, her fingers tightening around the phone. She wanted to deny it, to call him out on his filthy accusations, but she couldn’t.
Because he was right.
That night, when Patode had pushed her into fucking him out in the open, she had been terrified. The thought of being caught—of some unsuspecting stranger stumbling upon them, seeing her exposed, trembling, utterly vulnerable—had sent a thrill of fear through her veins.
And yet, that fear had strangely intensified her pleasure.
She climaxed so hard that night, her entire body shattering under the force of an earth-shaking, mind-breaking orgasm. The impact left her wrecked—shaking, gasping, undone in a way she had never been before.
Even now, the memory of it sent an involuntary shiver through her.
She swallowed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.
Denying it would be useless—Patode knew her too well. And admitting it would only fuel his twisted amusement.
Shipra:
That was different…
It was a weak response, and she knew it the moment she sent it.
Patode’s reply was almost instant.
Patode:
Oh? And how exactly was it different?
There was a pause, but not long enough for her to think of a response before his next message came in, hitting her like a freight train.
Patode:
Was it because all nine inches of my meaty cock buried deep inside your sloppy, cheating cunt made you forget all about modesty? Because it made you lose that ‘dignified wife’ act and brought out the filthy little whore you really are?
Shipra’s entire body burned with shame.
She clenched her jaw, glaring at the screen, but she couldn’t ignore the deep, traitorous ache between her thighs.
The phone buzzed again.
Another video call request.
Her irritation flared, mixing dangerously with the unwanted heat simmering inside her.
Shipra:
Stop it. I’m not doing a video call. I’m not in the mood.
She expected him to back off. To taunt her some more, maybe, but at least give up on the call.
But Patode never backed off.
Patode:
I thought my unmatched humor had set the mood already.
Shipra:
It did lighten me up a little but I’m just… not in the mood for what you want.
Patode:
Well, I have a extra-large magic stick right between my legs which can get any woman in mood. Specially married cheating sluts like you.
Just pick up the call now, it's not a request Shipra.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew what would happen if she answered.
And yet…
With a sigh, she finally gave in and pressed accept.
As she received the call, the screen flickered, and there he was—Patode, grinning shamelessly, his eyes dark with amusement.
"Patode, I know I left you hanging last night but I’m not comfortable continuing it right now, that to over a video call," Shipra snapped, keeping her voice low, though the frustration in her tone was unmistakable.
A mix of panic and irritation laced her words, but Patode only smirked, leaning in closer to his camera, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Yeah? Just like you weren’t comfortable with office sex?" he murmured, his voice rich with mockery. "Just like you weren’t comfortable with a threesome with Namrata? Or the outdoor sex?"
Shipra's breath hitched. She could feel his gaze piercing through her, watching—enjoying—how his words made her squirm.
Each accusation landed like a whip, cutting through her defenses, stripping away every pretense of innocence she had left.
"And yet," Patode continued, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "here we are. Doing it nonetheless. I just love how you act so prim and proper when, deep down, you’re nothing but a cock-hungry, cheating bitch."
There was no warmth in his voice, no softness. No pretense of affection.
Just raw, unfiltered filth.
And he was savoring every second of it.
But something shifted when he noticed Shipra’s expression. She wasn’t playing along this time—wasn’t flustered in that delicious way he enjoyed. No, there was something off. Something was weighing her down. She was distracted.
Patode’s smirk softened, just a little. Not enough to shed his usual demeaning edge, but enough to slip into another role—the one that made women like Shipra weak for him.
"Hmm… seems like you really are not in the mood. It's no fun teasing you like this," His tone was almost thoughtful, but there was an unmistakable glint of manipulation in his eyes. "Okay tell me what's bothering my slut? You can share it with me. It’ll surely make you feel better." His voice was coaxing, laced with a false sense of concern that masked his true intent.
Shipra hesitated. She wasn’t the type to air her marital problems so easily, especially not to someone like Patode. She had always believed that some things should stay within the confines of marriage, that venting to an outsider would only make her weaknesses more visible.
But Patode was no longer just a colleague. No longer just a casual presence in her life.
By now, in the eyes of Shipra, he had become something more. A more considerate and understanding alternative to Alok. And that was exactly what Patode wanted her to believe.
Bit by bit, she let it out.
She told him what all had happened since yesterday—how their night together had been a complete disappointment, leaving her feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. How she had tried, genuinely tried, to reconnect with him, to spend time together like a normal married couple, only to be met with disinterest and cold rejection. How a simple attempt at intimacy had spiraled into an argument, leaving her feeling neglected, unwanted, and completely alone.
But what stung the most wasn’t just the lack of passion from Alok. But it was the way Alok had chosen to handle his suspicions.
Instead of confronting her like a man, instead of looking her in the eye and demanding the truth, he had thrown insensitive allegations at her on a whim—not because he had proof, but because he assumed. Because deep down, he had already lost the feeling of possessiveness and ownership for her.
And that was what truly disgusted her. It wasn’t the weight of guilt that consumed her this time—it was the slow-burning anger at his cowardice.
She knew she was in the wrong. She knew she had betrayed him, crossed lines she could never uncross. If Alok had called her out on it, if he had dared to take a stand and demand answers, she would have confessed. She would have faced the consequences, owned up to the mess she had made.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sulked. Avoided her. Tossed careless, gutless remarks her way as if they would make up for his lack of action.
Where was the man who was once ready to fight for her? Who once claimed her like she was the most precious thing in his life?
Gone.
Shipra let it all out without constraint. She didn’t realize it, but by confiding in Patode, she was unravelling the last threads that tied her to her husband. Every word she spoke made her more vulnerable to the man listening on the other side of the screen.
And Patode was the kind of man who knew exactly how to exploit a weakness.
He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment before scoffing. “It’s funny as well as sad, Shipra, that all this time you’ve been drowning in guilt and shame for your act of infidelity—an act, mind you, that only happened because of Alok’s incompetence as a husband in the first place—whereas he seems to have already given up his claim over you.”
He leaned back, shaking his head, his smirk deepening. “What a coward. He suspects his wife of an affair, and instead of fighting for her, demanding answers, instead of showing his anger, his possessiveness, he ignores it? As if he has nothing to do with why his wife chose to cheat on him? Pathetic."
His voice dripped with scorn, each word like a needle burrowing into Shipra’s already conflicted mind.
“He is nothing but a freeloader. A useless, spineless fool, Shipra. And here you are, wasting your time, spoiling your mood for a man who doesn’t care.”
His words slithered into her thoughts like poison, subtle yet devastating. He had sensed it—that flicker of resentment in her tone, the simmering anger buried beneath her reluctant confessions. Not guilt. Not remorse. Just frustration, a festering wound that Alok’s indifference had only deepened.
And Patode knew exactly how to exploit it.
“Fuck him, Shipra.” He leaned in closer, his expression sharp, his voice smooth yet firm. “If he can’t fight for you, if he won’t even try to hold on to what’s his, then why should you alone bear the weight of this marriage?”
She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. The logic was so simple, so cruelly tempting.
“He doesn’t care, Shipra. Not about your love, your faithfulness, or the silent sacrifices you make every day. He isn’t losing sleep over the thought of you with another man. No, because he is so preoccupied with his own trivial ambitions that he has started treating you just as a provider, as a caretaker, as a convenience. Not as a partner."
Patode paused studying Shipra's reaction and finding no counter, he continued, his manipulation.
"Let him bask in the illusion of control, let him believe he is a man worth respecting. Let him wallow in his own pathetic existence. But you? You don’t have to waste yourself waiting for a man who doesn’t even see you anymore. Live your life the way you want. Chase the desires you’ve locked away, the happiness you’ve been denying yourself. Because let’s be honest, Shipra—a cowardly little sissy like him, a man who won’t even fight for his own wife, doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He deserves to be cheated on.”
Shipra remained silent. A part of her recoiled at the words, at how brazenly he said it. But another part—the part that had spent the last few weeks drowning in self-inflicted guilt at her actions, torn between regret and defiance—felt something else.
A sickening sense of relief.
“In a way, he’s made things easier for you, Shipra,” he mused, his voice taking on a teasing, almost playful edge. “You don’t have to torture yourself with this inner conflict anymore. You don’t have to struggle with maintaining a dual life.”
He leaned in slightly, his words slithering through the cracks of her wavering conscience. “Think about it. In Ambruj, you can be mine, free to indulge in every forbidden pleasure, fulfilling all of your fantasies—and mine.” His voice dipped lower, the promise of sin wrapping around every syllable. “I'll make you feel wanted and desired by thoroughly satisfying you both physically and emotionally."
He let the words seep into her, their power amplified by the silence that stretched between them.
“And when you return home,” he continued, his tone shifting back to something almost casual, as if he were offering a practical solution to an everyday problem, “you can be the perfect, doting wife. The responsible homemaker. Taking care of your household. Playing the role you’ve always played, but this time, without expecting anything from that wimp in return.”
His smirk deepened, watching her carefully, waiting for the final crack. “No more guilt, no more conflict. Just freedom, Shipra. Freedom to have it all. Just like you always wanted.”
Shipra exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the phone. Patode’s words weren’t just sinking in. They were reshaping her thoughts, hammering against the molten iron of her mind, bending it to his will.
She hesitated, but then, as if surrendering to a tide too strong to fight, she breathed out, “Maybe you’re right, Patode. Maybe it's the right thing to do for the future of this marriage and family.”
A slow smile spread across his face. Victory was near.
“Of course, I’m right,” he said smoothly, his voice laced with confidence. “It’s a win-win for everyone, Shipra. Think about it.”
He leaned back, exuding an air of self-assurance, his words flowing effortlessly as he painted a picture of perfect, guilt-free indulgence.
“Your husband? He’ll be happy. You won’t be bothering him, won’t be demanding his attention or love. You’ll be exactly what he wants you to be—a responsible mother, a dutiful wife, quietly taking care of the household while he chases his ambitions.”
His gaze darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you? You will finally be free. Free to embrace your desires without guilt, knowing full well that Alok doesn’t care what you do, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his perfect little world.”
Patode’s fingers drummed lightly against his desk as he studied her reaction, then continued, his voice dropping an octave, dripping with sinful promise. “And as for me… well, I won't pretend I am helping you out of sheer goodwill, Shipra. I’ll be the one benefiting the most from this arrangement.”
He let that statement linger for a moment, watching her closely, then leaned in, his tone shifting to something darker, more intimate. “I get you—a stunning, sexy woman, a woman who was made for pleasure but has been shackled by expectations for far too long. And now?” His smirk widened, his voice curling around her like warm silk. “You'll be completely mine. My own personal goddess of sin. A horny slutty MILF who will be worshipped, explored, devoured by me thoroughly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound deep and knowing, his attempt to make the discussion lighter—yet undeniably erotic. “Tell me, Shipra, doesn’t that sound… delicious? No more guilt, no more torment. Just indulgence. Just pleasure. Just us.”
"How very convenient for you, Patode," Shipra said, her voice laced with sarcasm, a faint, forced smile playing on her lips. She had long exhausted every effort to reignite something—anything—with Alok. But after his apathy, his indifference, it all felt like a lost cause. There was nothing left to salvage, no embers of passion waiting to be rekindled. Perhaps this rural posting to Ambruj was a blessing in disguise, a much-needed escape for them both—one where she could finally indulge in every suppressed fantasy, live out her deepest desires without guilt. Meanwhile, Alok’s aspirations would either come to fruition or crumble under their own weight. Perhaps this was how it was always meant to be.
"But at least you’re brutally honest and upfront about it," Shipra sighed, eyeing Patode with a mix of amusement and admiration. His boldness was infuriating, yet refreshing. She could almost respect his shamelessness. At least he didn’t pretend, unlike her husband, who hid behind excuses and empty gestures. The thought still stung. Her resentment toward Alok simmered beneath the surface, fueling her recklessness.
"And what after these few months?" she asked, tilting her head, testing the waters of this dangerous liaison.
Patode shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Who knows?" His dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "Maybe you'll extend your tenure in Ambruj and continue being my slut." He winked, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Shipra let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "You would love that, wouldn’t you?"
"Oh, I would. Who wouldn’t want to keep a goddess like you in their bed?" He chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "And who knows? Maybe you'll end up getting knocked up by me. Just like Aditi."
Shipra scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Like I’d ever let that happen. You and your twisted little fetishes, Patode."
He laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Yeah? Just like you were so sure you wouldn’t fall for my advances?" His words dripped with wicked amusement. "Think about it, Shipra. It would be the perfect revenge on your pathetic husband. Imagine—he’d spend his life raising a child that isn’t even his, a living, breathing reminder of his failure. His incompetence." His fingers traced a slow, lazy pattern along her arm. "And every time you look at that child, you’ll remember us. Our nights. Our heat. Our filthy, desperate, irresistible lust."
"Oh god! Do you always have to be so vulgar and crude, Patode?" Shipra shot back, stammering a little, taken aback by the sheer audacity of his words.
Patode chuckled lazily, his smirk unwavering. He lounged back on his couch, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows over his face.
"Act all disgusted you want, but you and me both know that you love these lewd remarks and vulgar ideas. The humiliation and the dominance really makes you horny and wet," he drawled, his voice rich with satisfaction.
Shipra stiffened, raising an eyebrow at his claims, but didn't reply.
Patode stretched, his movements unhurried, entirely at ease. "Now, since I’ve so graciously helped you sort out your dilemma and even sided with you in bitching about your lousy husband—how about you return the favor?"
With a wicked smirk, he tilted the camera downward, the frame shifting to his lap. Dressed in nothing but his underwear, the hard outline of his semi-erect cock was unmistakable, pressing insistently against the fabric. He grabbed his manhood tightly, the motion teasing, taunting.
"My little poor boy here has been patiently waiting for some attention," he said, his voice laced with playful mockery.
"In what world is that a little boy?" Shipra let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but smile at his audacity. His crude humor was inappropriate, vulgar—but strangely disarming. A twisted kind of charm.
"That's more like it. It seems I have successfully lifted your mood," Patode continued, his gaze darkening, sweeping over her through the screen, "Now why don't you stop acting like a poor neglected wife Shipra, feeling sorry for yourself and start behaving like my little slut, ready to enjoy a little digital hanky panky," His smirk widened knowingly. "Let's continue where we left from last night, before your kids wakes up and cock blocks me again."
Shipra hesitated for a bit, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall, ensuring there would be no interruptions. The quiet hum of the house only amplified the pounding of her heart. A slow, forbidden thrill curled through her, igniting something deep within.
She exhaled, a mischievous smile playing at her lips as she looked back at the screen, her hesitation melting into something far more dangerous.
"Okay… fine…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
The hesitation was evident, but so was the temptation. She knew Patode wouldn’t let it go, and deep down, she didn’t really want him to. The frustration simmering within her—the resentment toward Alok, the unmet desires—needed an outlet.
Clearing her throat, she exhaled. "Let me just make sure Aarav is asleep. Hold on."
She quickly moved out of the hall, her movements slow and careful as she made her way to Aarav’s room. The little boy was fast asleep, his breathing soft and even.
Meanwhile, back on the other side of the screen, Patode’s expression shifted into something more sinister. His fingers flew across his phone’s keyboard, sending a quick text, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
She quickly made her way back, but as she reached her bedroom’s threshold, she hesitated.
A thick tension sat heavy in her chest.
Something about stepping inside, about doing this in that bed, felt too perverse.
Too wrong.
"Why did you stop, Shipra?" Patode’s voice cut through the silence, smooth yet taunting.
"It's your bedroom, isn't it?" Patode chuckled darkly, sensing her hesitation. "What’s the matter? Why are you hesitating?," he mused, his voice a purr of satisfaction. "Don't tell me you're feeling bad for Alok now?"
His tone turned mocking. "Come now, Shipra. Your wimpy, two-pump-chump of a husband doesn't deserve your consideration anymore. Think about it—how deliciously perverse it would be. You, writhing on that bed, moaning my name, playing the perfect little cam whore for me. Right there, where you once lay as his blushing bride." Patode continued, his words cruel and deliberate, pressing into the softest, most vulnerable parts of her conscience.
Shirpa's stomach coiled with a mix of shame and something illicit. A shudder ran through her, though whether it was from revulsion or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.
Because beneath the war raging inside her, another thought whispered insidiously.
Wouldn’t it be the apt punishment?
A punishment for Alok’s indifference, for his failure to fight for her, for the way he had let their love wilt into something dull and lifeless. He had given up. Let her slip through his fingers.
So why shouldn’t she?
Her fingers trembled against the doorknob, her breath uneven.
"Go on," he whispered. "Push the door open. Be my filthy little slut in the same bed where you had your wedding night. Flame his suspicion even more, see if he is man enough to confront you."
His laughter was quiet, indulgent. "It would be the perfect way to get back at him, don’t you think?"
Shipra exhaled slowly, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a storm cloud. But her resentment towards Alok was too much for her to think straight.
And with that, she pushed the door open and entered.
**********************************************************************************************
"Hey Alok, come here, bro! Look—Chetan’s showing us his new workplace," Vaibhav called out, turning his phone toward Alok with an amused smirk. "A fucking dhaba in his hometown. Talk about a downgrade from aiming to be an IAS officer."
Chetan scoffed, unfazed. "Crack all the jokes you want, but at least I’m the one making money, loser." His voice carried an easy confidence, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Go on, Alok, take your shot too. I promise I don’t get offended as easily as you do."
Alok knew exactly what he was referring to—Chetan’s offhand comments about Shipra a few days back. He had let it get under his skin then. Now? He just didn’t have the energy.
"No, man," Alok said, shaking his head with a faint, tired smile. "It’s good that you went back and took the job. At least you knew when to call it quits."
Chetan raised an eyebrow. "That’s new," he remarked, catching the dullness in Alok’s tone.
Vaibhav frowned slightly, though it didn’t stop him from cracking a joke. "What’s up with you, dude? I thought you’d be in a way better mood now that you’re finally getting some pussy again after all those weeks." His grin widened. "Shipra’s back, so I guess your sexual fasting is officially over, huh?"
Alok forced a chuckle but ignored the comment entirely. His mind was elsewhere. As he watched Chetan over the video call, an idea formed—one that sent an uneasy ripple through his thoughts.
His gaze flickered with hesitation before he finally spoke.
"Hey, Chetan… your village is Ambruj, isn’t it?" Alok asked as he grabbed Vaibhav’s phone and stepped away from the group, seeking a more private corner. His voice was low, uncertain. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
Chetan leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Yeah, it is," he replied, then narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion. "But hold up—you need my help? Mr. Topper himself, asking me for a favor?" He let out a theatrical gasp. "Man, this does not feel right."
Then, as if a switch flipped, his expression shifted, his smirk sharpening. "Let me guess… it’s about your wife, isn’t it?" The jab was pointed, deliberate—an old grudge lingering from their previous spat.
Alok hesitated, fingers tightening around the phone. A beat of silence stretched between them.
Then, almost as quickly as the thought had come, uncertainty took hold.
"Forget it," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t even know what I’m doing." His voice wavered—conflicted, restless. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
Chetan studied him for a moment before shrugging. "Your call, man. But if you change your mind, let me know." His tone was lighter now, less taunting. "All said and done, I don’t mind helping you. You know that."
Before Alok could respond, Chetan glanced off-screen. "Anyway, I gotta go. Our main guest is about to arrive." His lips curled in amusement. "Later, Vaibhav. And Alok… don’t ignore your instinct. Sometimes, the answer’s right in front of you."
With that, the call disconnected, leaving Alok alone with his thoughts.
His grip on the phone slackened, but the unease in his chest tightened.
Was he really about to do this?
***********************************************
Continued to the next post.....
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