Adultery Sakshi's Universe

[yodam69420]

The room had turned dark, but she hadn’t lit a lamp. Only the faint spill of corridor light painted the walls in slow shadows. It was quiet—no fans, no traffic outside, no baby crying, no water boiling. Just stillness. Heavy, stretched like oil across the tiled floor. Ramu stood at the bedroom threshold, spine straight but barely holding. His knees ached from the stone-cold ground he'd spent the last hour on. His palms were sore. His breath? Unsteady. His lips still tasted faintly of buffalo milk and Bad smelling ghee, a sickly-sweet reminder of his own humiliation. But his cock—his cock was hard, throbbing, twitching. It pressed violently against his dhoti, aching in the thick silence.
Sakshi lay on the bed, back propped against the headboard, her hair wild, her expression unreadable. Her saree lay in folds on the floor like a snake shed of skin. Her blouse unhooked, hanging off one shoulder. Her petticoat twisted around her hips, pulled down far enough to expose both flesh and intent. Her breasts sat bare and defiant, dusky brown nipples darkened with arousal. Her thighs—glistening, open, deliberate—formed a shrine of temptation. Between them, her choot glistened with a slick wetness that pulsed in rhythm with the breath that hissed through her lips.
She saw him staring and smiled. Not with joy. With possession.
"This," she said, her voice thick as ghee, "is your final test, Ramu."
He remained silent. Lips parted, eyes wide. Obedient.
"You’ve crawled for me. You’ve licked filth for me. You’ve drunk what you hate from my thighs. But this—this is harder. This is purer."
She raised her leg slowly, bending the knee, foot flat on the bedspread. Fingers glided along her inner thigh, glistening with sweat.
"Can you be patient, Ramu? Can you sit there like a dog and watch while your goddess finishes herself off—without ever being touched by your tongue or cock?"
His throat bobbed. He nodded. Just once.
She leaned back further. Let her legs fall wider.
Two fingers slid into her mouth. She sucked them slow, wet, moaning like a woman already on the brink. Then those same fingers—shiny with spit—trailed down her torso, over the rise of her mound, between the lips of her cunt.
He let out a strangled sound.
"Shhh," she hissed. "Don’t speak. Don’t move."
Her fingers found her clit and circled. Wet, lewd sounds filled the air, louder than breath, louder than shame.

"You want to taste it, don’t you? You want to crawl to me, stick your tongue out, and clean my juice off this bed. Off my fucking fingers."
He shook, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.
"But you won't," she continued, voice like poison-dipped silk. "Because you can’t. This test isn’t about action. It’s about stillness. It’s about patience."
She moaned, louder now, fingers flicking faster. One hand reached up to her nipple, pinching, twisting.
"Look at how wet you’ve made me. Not even with your tongue. Just with your submission. Your suffering."
Her other hand dipped inside her, two fingers pumping in and out as she spread herself wider for him. She let him see every glint of her slick, every twitch of her cunt around her knuckles.
"You want to lick it off my skin, na? Suck my fingers clean like a loyal fucking servant?"
His eyes begged.
She smiled, cruel. "You don’t get to cum. You don’t even get to breathe unless I say so."
Her thighs began to tremble.
She slapped her cunt, once, twice. The sound rang out like a slap in the face.
"Watch me, Ramu. Watch me fall apart in front of you."
And then, with a strangled gasp—raw, hoarse, primal—she came.
Her whole body bucked. Her chest heaved. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she fucked herself through it. Juice coated her fingers. Her cunt throbbed like a curse.
He watched. Silent. Frozen. Aching.
When it was over, she lay back, one arm across her forehead, one hand still between her legs.
She turned her head. Saw him.
He hadn’t moved an inch.
His eyes shimmered. His cock dripped through the soaked front of his dhoti.
She stared at him.
And whispered: "You passed."
She turned her face to the wall, not speaking again.
Ramu remained kneeling.
Hard.
Denied.
Broken.
But utterly hers.