Adultery Friend's Mother

[scorpio7]

Divya was torn between the love and concern she had for her son and the fear and disgust she felt towards Ramesh. Every time she saw him, she was reminded of that fateful night, and it made her skin crawl. But she was a mother, and she knew that she had to protect her son, even if it meant pretending that nothing had changed. She put on a brave face, but inside she was crumbling. The weight of her secret was becoming too much to bear.

Ramesh, on the other hand, had found a new angle to his twisted game. He approached Mohit one day, his eyes filled with unshed tears, and began to speak of his mother. He told a heart-wrenching story of her last days, her unfulfilled wishes, and how much he missed her. He painted a picture of a woman who had sacrificed everything for him, leaving a gaping hole in his life that no one could ever fill. As he spoke, he made subtle glances towards Divya, who was busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He knew that Mohit had a soft spot for his mother and that his words would resonate with the kind-hearted boy.

Mohit, ever the empathetic listener, was moved by Ramesh's plight. He placed a comforting hand on Ramesh's shoulder, unaware of the dark thoughts that swirled in his friend's mind. Ramesh took this opportunity to draw a parallel between his own desolate situation and Divya's warmth and care. He spoke of how lucky he was to have found a second mother in Divya, and how much he admired and respected her. His voice cracked as he talked about the motherly love she exuded, making it clear that he was not just speaking of her in a friendly manner.

Divya, still in the kitchen, could feel Ramesh's eyes on her. She tried to ignore the burning sensation as he watched her every move. Her hands trembled as she chopped vegetables, the sharp sound echoing in the tense silence that had descended upon the room. She knew that he was playing a dangerous game, but she didn't know how to stop him without hurting her son. The guilt of keeping the truth from Mohit was eating away at her, but the fear of what Ramesh might do if she exposed him was even greater.

As Ramesh spoke, his eyes never left Divya. He observed her with a hungry gaze, taking in her every curve as she moved around the kitchen. He noticed the way her blouse clung to her sweaty back, the way her hips swayed slightly with each step she took. His thoughts grew darker, more depraved. He imagined her naked, her body writhing in pleasure under his as he claimed her once again. The fabricated story about his late mother was just another tool in his arsenal, a way to manipulate Mohit's emotions and get even closer to Divya.

Mohit, oblivious to the storm brewing in the room, nodded sympathetically, his heart heavy for his friend. "Of course, Ramesh. I totally understand. My mother is like a second mom to you, she will always be there when you need her," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Divya's eyes widened in horror as she realized what Ramesh was doing. He was playing on Mohit's emotions, turning her son into an unwitting accomplice in his twisted plan. She had to put a stop to this before it went any further. But before she could say anything, Mohit's father walked in, his face etched with lines of fatigue from his work. "Mohit, I need to speak with you," he said, his tone urgent.

Mohit looked up from the couch, his gaze leaving Ramesh's tear-stained face to look at his father. "What is it, Dad?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I just got a call from the office. There's an emergency in our China branch, and I need to leave tonight," his father said, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "I'll be gone for a month, and I need you to handle a few things while I'm away."

Mohit felt a knot in his stomach. "But Dad, I have my college reunion coming up in Delhi next week," he protested weakly.

His father sighed heavily, "I know, son. But this is important. We can't leave your mother alone for a month. I need you to stay here and help her out. Maybe you can go to Delhi once I'm back."

Mohit nodded reluctantly, looking over at Divya, who had gone pale at the news. Ramesh's eyes gleamed with triumph, seeing the perfect opportunity to be alone with her. He knew he had to play it cool, so he offered to help out with any errands or chores that might come up. "Don't worry, uncle," he said, with a fake smile, "I'll make sure aunty doesn't have to lift a finger."

Divya felt trapped. She couldn't voice her objections without arousing suspicion. She forced a smile and said, "Thank you, Ramesh. That's so kind of you. But we'll manage." Inside, she was screaming.

Mohit saw the worry in his mother's eyes and promised to help out more before he left. Little did he know that the person he was relying on was the source of her fear. Ramesh's smile grew wider, and he nodded solemnly. "Of course, Aunty. I'm here for you and Mohit."

The day of Mohit and his father's departure arrived quickly. Divya watched as her husband and son packed their bags, their eyes filled with determination and sadness. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, she felt a sense of dread wash over her. She was now alone in the house.

Mohit gave her a reassuring smile and a quick hug before leaving. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be back in no time. And remember, Ramesh's here to help if you need anything," he said, not knowing the dark reality of his friend's intentions. Ramesh's smile was anything but comforting as he nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

As the taxi disappeared around the corner, Divya felt a cold hand of fear grip her heart. She turned to face the empty house, her mind racing with thoughts of the impending month.

Ramesh, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the situation, retreated to his own home after dropping off Mohit and his father. He knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for. With a newfound sense of urgency, he showered and changed into clean clothes, his mind buzzing with excitement. He could feel the power dynamics in the house shifting in his favor.

As the sun set, casting an eerie glow over the quiet hydeerabad streets, Ramesh made his way back to Divya's house. He approached the door with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The thought of seeing her alone, vulnerable, was almost too much to bear. He took a deep breath and knocked, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. The seconds stretched into minutes, but there was no response from within.

He waited, his hand hovering over the doorbell, ready to press it if he heard any movement. The silence was deafening, making him question if she had even heard him. But he knew she was in there, he could feel her presence, almost as if she was watching him through the peephole, contemplating her next move.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. Divya stood there, her eyes red-rimmed, looking at him with a mix of anger and fear. She had hoped he wouldn't come back, that she could somehow pretend that the last few weeks had never happened. But here he was, standing before her, dressed in his usual casual attire, a smug look on his face.

"What do you want, Ramesh?" she snapped, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ramesh's smile grew wider as he stepped into the house, his eyes scanning her figure hungrily. "Just wanted to check on you, Aunty," he said, his voice thick with insincerity. "You know, make sure you don't need anything."

Divya's mind raced as she led him into the living room, her heart pounding in her chest. She was acutely aware of the way his eyes devoured her, and she couldn't help but feel a shiver of revulsion. She knew she had to keep up appearances, not just for her own sake, but for her family's reputation. "Thank you, Ramesh," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "But I assure you, I can manage."

Ramesh didn't miss the tremble in her voice. He knew she was scared, but he also knew that she was a creature of habit, a creature of duty. "It's no trouble, Aunty," he said, his tone syrupy sweet. "After all, we're family now, aren't we?"

Divya felt bile rise in her throat at the words, but she nodded stiffly, gesturing for him to take a seat. She busied herself in the kitchen, trying to keep the tremors from her hands from showing as she prepared a cup of tea. The clink of the spoon against the china was like nails on a chalkboard in the tense silence.

Ramesh's eyes followed her every move, drinking in the sight of her in a simple cotton sari, the pallu slightly askew from her hasty attempt to cover herself. Her blouse was a modest shade of peach that brought out the warmth of her skin, and the neckline was just low enough to hint at the swell of her breasts. The sari dbangd around her waist clung to her hips, showcasing her feminine curves. She looked like a goddess, and he was the mere mortal who had dared to touch her.

He couldn't resist the urge to move closer. As she bent down to pick up a fallen spoon, his eyes trailed down the length of her body, pausing at the juncture of her thighs. He imagined peeling away the layers of fabric, exposing her again, feeling her soft skin beneath his rough hands. He felt his cock twitch, and his heart rate sped up. This was his moment. He had to strike now, while she was vulnerable, while the fear and confusion clouded her judgment.

He approached her slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers. She stiffened as he reached out and took the spoon from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. He placed it back on the counter and turned to face her fully. "You don't have to pretend, Aunty," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "We both know what you want."

Her eyes widened in shock and she took a step back, but he followed, cornering her against the kitchen counter. "Ramesh, please," she begged, her voice shaking.

He ignored her pleas, his eyes dark with lust as he reached out to cup her face in his hand. "Shh," he whispered, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. "Don't fight it, Aunty. You know you want this."

Divya's breath hitched in her throat as she felt the heat from his body against hers. She wanted to scream, to push him away, but the fear of what might happen if she did paralyzed her. She watched in horror as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

Ramesh took another step towards her, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. "I know you're scared," he murmured, "but I promise, it will be better this time. I'll make you feel good."

Her eyes searched the kitchen frantically, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. But before she could act, he had already switched off the gas burner and lights and turned to face her. The sudden darkness in the kitchen was suffocating, and she could feel his presence like a living, breathing entity.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn't answer, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Instead, he reached out and took her hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. He led her through the darkness, his movements surprisingly sure despite the lack of light. The coldness of the marble floor sent goosebumps up her legs, but she couldn't protest, couldn't fight. She was in a daze, a horrifying mix of fear and arousal that she couldn't comprehend.

Her heart was racing as he guided her to the bedroom, the one place she had felt safe from his advances. But now, with his hand in hers, she knew that safety was just an illusion. He closed the door behind them with a soft click that echoed through the room. The sound of the bolt sliding into place was final, a declaration of his intentions.

"Let go of me, Ramesh," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "This isn't right. What you're doing is wrong."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "But you liked it, Aunty," he whispered, his voice filled with a twisted kind of satisfaction. "You liked it when I made you feel good."

The anger that had been simmering inside her for weeks boiled over. She yanked her hand away from his and slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the room. "How dare you," she spat. "I will never be your plaything."

The slap had caught him off guard, and he took a step back, his hand flying to his reddened cheek. For a moment, surprise and anger flashed in his eyes. But then, something in his gaze shifted, and he began to laugh. It was a deep, mocking sound that sent chills down her spine. "You think you can fight me?" he taunted, moving closer again.

But Divya had had enough. With a roar of fury, she pushed him away from her, her strength surprising even herself. "Get out of my house," she said, her voice shaking with rage. "If you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."

Ramesh's smile was cold as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm not going anywhere, Aunty," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine now."

Her mind raced for a way to escape, to regain control of the situation. She knew that she couldn't overpower him physically, but she had to find a way to get him to leave. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He leaned in so close she could feel his breath on her face. "Everything," he murmured. "But for now, I just want you to admit that you want me too."

Divya's revulsion grew with every passing second, but she knew that she had to play along if she wanted to survive this. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you.....to leave me alone."

Ramesh chuckled darkly. "That's not what I meant," he said, his hand sliding up to trace the line of her neck, sending a wave of nausea through her. "I want you to admit that you're just as hungry for this as I am."

Her eyes searched the room desperately for an escape, but all she found was her wedding picture, a sad reminder of the life she had once had. "I'll do anything," she said, her voice shaking. "Just please, leave me be."

He grabbed her neck and leaned in closer. "You'll do anything?" he repeated, his voice filled with malicious glee. "Then prove it."

With a sudden burst of strength, she brought her knee up, catching him in the groin. He doubled over with a grunt, and she took the opportunity to push him away. She turned and sprinted towards the bedroom door, her heart pounding in her chest. But she didn't make it far. He grabbed her from behind, his arms like steel bands around her waist, and she felt his erection pressing against her.

"You're mine," he breathed into her ear. "You can't fight it."

Her body stiffened as she felt his hands begin to roam, his touch like fire against her skin. She had to get away, had to find a way to stop this madness. She squirmed and struggled, her nails digging into his arms, her heels scbanging against the floor.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with fear and anger. "I hate you!"

Ramesh's grip tightened, and he pulled her back against him, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. "You may hate me, Aunty, but your body doesn't."

The realization of his words sent a fresh wave of terror through her. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a way to get free. But as she felt his hand slip under her sari, her body betrayed her, and she knew that she was fighting a losing battle.

Ramesh's breath was hot against her neck as he pinned her to the wall, his strong arms caging her in. She could feel his erection pressing against her back, a constant reminder of his dominance. He knelt down, his eyes gleaming with lust as he took in the sight of her. He reached for the hem of her sari and petticoat, lifting them with a slow deliberation that made her skin crawl.

Her thighs were indeed sweaty, a testament to the fear and disgust that had been simmering inside her. But as the cool air hit her bare skin, she felt a strange mix of arousal and anger. She tried to clamp her legs together, but his hand was already there, tracing the soft flesh with a possessiveness that made her stomach churn.

His touch was feather-light as he ran his fingers up and down the length of her thigh, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched her reactions with a twisted sense of pleasure, enjoying the way she struggled against him, the way her breath hitched every time he touched a sensitive spot. Despite her efforts to remain stoic, her body was responding to his touch, and she hated herself for it.

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against the skin of her neck. She could feel the warmth of his breath as he inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. "You smell so good," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "So sweet and ripe."

Divya's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. She couldn't let him win, couldn't let him see how much he was affecting her. But it was getting harder and harder to resist the siren call of her traitorous body.

With a sudden burst of strength, she tried to kick him away, but he was ready for it. He caught her leg in midair and pinned it to the side, his grip like a vice. "Don't fight it," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "You know you want this."

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the wall in front of her, her mind racing. She had to find a way out, had to rally the strength she had buried deep inside. Ramesh's hand traveled higher, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric of her panties, and she could feel the heat of his gaze on her most intimate parts. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath, channeling all her anger and fear into one swift action.

With a guttural scream, she brought her fist up and slammed her fist into his face. He stumbled back, and she took advantage of the momentary reprieve to slip out of his grasp. She dashed across the room, her sari fluttering behind her, and grabbed the first thing she could find – a heavy glass vase from the bedside table. She turned to face him, her chest heaving with panic, the vase held firmly in both hands.

Ramesh watched her with a mix of shock and admiration. He had underestimated her. But she had played right into his hands. He reached into his pocket with a smirk, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled out his phone. He dialed Mohit’s number, the call connecting almost immediately. The screen lit up, and she watched in horror as her son’s face filled the screen, her eyes wide with confusion and concern.

"Hey, buddy," Ramesh said, his voice casual. "Just checking in to let you know that your mom is fine. I'm here with her now." He held the phone at an angle so that only his face was visible, the room behind him a blur. Divya’s heart sank as she realized what he was doing. He was using her own son to keep her in line, to ensure she didn't scream for help.

Mohit's concerned expression was clear even on the small screen. "Thanks, man. I just talked to her a little while ago. She sounded a bit... off."

Ramesh's smirk grew wider. "Don't worry, she's just tired," he said smoothly. "I'll make sure she's okay."

Divya felt her grip on the vase tighten. "What are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and filled with venom.

Ramesh's smirk grew, and he held out the phone. "Say hello to Mohit, Aunty," he said, his tone mocking.

Divya's mind was racing, but she knew she had to play along. She took a deep breath and stepped into view, the vase still clutched in her hands but away from the screen. "Hello, Mohit," she said, her voice shaking. She hoped her son wouldn't notice the tremble in her voice, the fear in her eyes.

Mohit's face relaxed at the sight of her. "Ma, are you okay? You don't sound right," he said, his concern palpable.

"I'm fine, beta," she forced a smile, her eyes never leaving Ramesh's. "Just a bit tired, as Ramesh said." She set the vase down with shaking hands, hoping the clink of glass on the floor would be muffled by their conversation.

Mohit nodded, his eyes scanning her face, looking for any sign of trouble. Ramesh, taking his cue, slithered around her, his movements fluid and predatory. He knelt down behind her, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to lift the hem of her sari. She stiffened, but the phone in her hand was a stark reminder of the consequences if she resisted.

"Ma, why do you look so nervous?" Mohit asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ramesh, sensing her fear, decided to act swiftly. He stepped aside, keeping his gaze locked onto Divya's as he knelt down behind her, his hands inching up her legs, lifting her sari and petticoat with a slow, deliberate motion. Divya's heart hammered in her chest, her eyes widening with terror as she felt the fabric being raised, exposing her to his hungry gaze. "I'm fine, really," she managed to say, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Mohit, unable to see the horror unfolding before his mother's eyes, nodded reassured. "Okay, Ma. If you're sure," he said, his voice filled with concern. Divya's eyes darted to the vase she had just placed on the floor, contemplating the possibility of using it as a weapon, but the phone call kept her from making any hasty moves.

Ramesh took advantage of her distraction, kneeling down behind her, his eyes never leaving hers. With a smirk, he began to lift her sari and petticoat, the fabric gliding over her skin like a serpent. She stifled a gasp, her heart racing as he exposed her legs, inch by agonizing inch, to the cool air of the room. The callousness of his actions was matched only by the intensity of her own fear.

Divya felt a warm hand caress the back of her calf, sending a shiver up her spine. She clenched her fists around the phone, her knuckles white. "Beta, I'm just feeling a bit faint," she lied, her voice strained. "I might need to lie down."

Mohit's eyes searched her face, and she could see the worry etched in his features. "Are you sure, Ma? Do you need me to come home?"

"No, beta," she said, her voice a shaky whisper. "Ramesh is here. He'll take care of me." She felt Ramesh's hand move higher up her thigh, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.

Mohit nodded, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Okay, Ma. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," she promised, her eyes never leaving Mohit's, silently pleading for her son not to hang up. But he did, and the room was plunged into silence once again. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, the air thick with tension and fear.

Ramesh took the phone from her trembling hand and set it on the bedside table, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now, Aunty," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "It's time to show me what you've been hiding." He reached out and began to unravel her sari, his movements slow and deliberate. The fabric whispered around her body, the coolness of the air brushing against her exposed skin sending goosebumps along her arms.

Divya tried to protest, but his hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her words. His other hand continued to unwrap the sari, exposing her inch by inch. The fabric pooled around her ankles, leaving her in just her blouse and petticoat. His eyes traveled over her body, his hunger plain. She could feel his eyes on her, undressing her, stripping away her dignity with every second that passed.

Her bindi remained on her forehead, the small red dot a stark reminder of the life she was supposed to be leading. The vermilion in her hair gleamed in the dim light, a taunting symbol of her marital status, now twisted into a perverse joke. The bangles on her wrists jingled faintly with every tremor that ran through her, a mocking soundtrack to her fear. Her ear tops swayed slightly as she moved, a silent testament to her desperation.

The neckline of her blouse was damp with perspiration, and the fabric clung to her skin, outlining the swells of her breasts. He took his time, his eyes feasting on her exposed neck and the mangalsutra that lay nestled between the mounds of flesh. The sacred symbol of her marriage was a stark contrast to the depravity of the situation, and the sight of it only fueled his desire.

With trembling hands, she tried to cover herself, but he was merciless. He ripped her blouse down, exposing her bra-clad breasts. The bindi on her forehead caught the light, a crimson beacon of her purity amidst the horror. He reached out and plucked it off, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching as the red paste smudged onto his skin.

Her sleeveless blouse revealed her damp armpits, the scent of fear and arousal mixing to form an intoxicating cocktail. Ramesh's nostrils flared as he took in her aroma, his own desire spiraling out of control. He couldn't resist the urge to lean in closer, to press his face against the softness of her skin and inhale deeply. The scent was like a drug, a heady perfume that made his cock throb with need. He began to strip, his eyes never leaving hers, his obese, hairy body moving with surprising grace.

Her eyes took in the stark contrast of his dark, flabby skin against her own milky white flesh, the sight making her stomach churn. Yet, she couldn't deny the effect he was having on her. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tightening under the fabric of her bra. As he removed his shirt, his hairy chest was revealed, each fold and crevice a stark contrast to her own smoothness.

With surprising grace, Ramesh removed her torn blouse and slid it off her arms, leaving her in just her bra and petticoat. He took a step back and reached out, his thick fingers tangling in her hair. With a gentle yet firm tug, he pulled out the pins holding it in place, letting it cascade around her shoulders. The sensation of her hair brushing against her bare skin made her shiver, a strange mix of fear and anticipation coursing through her.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of her neck, his stubble scbanging against her skin. The warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the chill in the air, and she couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat roll down her spine. His hands slid down to the waist of her petticoat, and with a swift tug, he pulled it down, exposing her simple blue panties. He took a moment to admire her, his eyes lingering on the curve of her hips, the swell of her ass.

Her breath hitched as he reached for his own pants, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He unbuckled his belt with a soft click, the sound seemingly amplified in the tense silence of the room. He pulled them down, his erection showing in his underwear, and kicked them aside. The sight of him, fully exposed and just in underwear. His hairy thighs and legs. His hairy sweaty armpits were making her feel dizzy. She was being taken again by him in the same bedroom her sanctuary.

With firm hands, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. The fabric fell away, revealing her full, heavy breasts, the areolae tight with arousal and fear. He took his time, his eyes devouring every inch of her.

Her panties were the last barrier between them, and with a quick tug, he pulled them down her legs, leaving her fully exposed before him. The room felt colder now, the air brushing against her bare skin like a thousand tiny needles.

Ramesh's eyes gleamed with lust as he took in the sight of her, his breathing heavy and labored. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, and she couldn't help but shiver. His hand slid down her neck, over her collarbone, and then down to her chest, cupping one of her breasts in his palm. His thumb brushed against her nipple, and she felt it peak under his touch, despite her best efforts to remain unaffected.

"Look at these fucking tits," Ramesh said, his voice a low growl. "So full and heavy, like a cow's udders. They're made for milking, aren't they?" He squeezed harder, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. "You're a whore, a fucking slut," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "And these tits are going to get me off like nothing else."

His hand moved to her other breast, his fingers playing with her nipple, twisting and pinching. The pain was sharp, but it was mixed with something else, something she didn't want to acknowledge. Her body was responding to his touch, her nipples hardening even more, and she could feel her pussy growing wet. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't deny the reaction.

Ramesh noticed her body's betrayal and smirked. "You see, Aunty," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "You want it as much as I do."

He paused, then said, "But I think it's time we drop the formalities, don't you, Divya?"

Her eyes searched his, looking for any glimmer of humanity. "Ramesh," she whispered, her voice trembling, "please... I don't want this."

His smirk grew, and he leaned in closer, his hot breath tickling her ear. "But your body does, Divya," he murmured, his hands continuing their torment. "I can feel it, wet and ready for me."

Her voice was a tremble of fear and anger as she spoke. "I hate you," she spat out, trying to push his hand away. But his grip was unyielding, his touch relentless. "I'll never want you like this."

Ramesh chuckled, his grip on her breasts tightening. "Your body says otherwise," he said, his voice low and mocking. "Why do you think I picked you, Divya? Because you're not easy to break. Because underneath that sweet, innocent exterior, I knew you had the fire of a thousand suns. And I'm going to make you burn for me."

Her eyes searched the room desperately for a weapon, for anything she could use to fight back. But all she saw was their reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door, a twisted tableau of fear and lust. "Get off me," she said, her voice a mix of anger and fear. "I'll do anything, just don't do this."

But Ramesh was beyond reason. He pushed her against the wall, her body sticking to it like a leaf to a wet surface. She could feel the plaster digging into her skin, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the heat of his body. His hands held her in place, his breathing heavy and ragged. He leaned in, his mouth finding hers, and she felt the tip of his tongue probing at her lips.

Divya's eyes widened, and she turned her head to the side, trying to avoid his kiss. But his grip was like iron, and he forced her head back, his lips crushing down onto hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, his taste like ash and mint. She tried to push him away, but her hands were trapped between them, her palms flat against the wall.

Ramesh took his time, exploring her mouth with his tongue, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. His hands moved to her wrists, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pinned her arms above her head. He pulled back, his eyes dark with lust as he took in her desperate struggle.

Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath she took, the bindi on her forehead a stark contrast to the obscenity of the situation. He brought his face closer, his stubble scbanging against her cheek as he whispered, "You're mine now, Divya."

With surprising strength, Ramesh pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his grip tight and unyielding. His other hand found her right breast, his rough, hairy chest pressing against her soft, vulnerable flesh. He squeezed it hard, his fingers digging into her sensitive skin. She winced in pain, trying to turn away from his burning gaze. But he was relentless, his mouth crashing down onto hers once more.

This time, he didn’t bother with gentle exploration. He spat into her mouth, a vile, dominating gesture that filled her with revulsion. She tried to turn away, to escape the taste of him, but he held her firmly in place, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She could feel his stubble scratching her skin, the hair on his chest and stomach rubbing against her, making her squirm with disgust.

His hand moved from her wrist to her neck, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh, the pressure just shy of painful. His other hand continued to maul her breast, the pain and humiliation mixing with a confusing cocktail of sensations. Her body was responding, betraying her with every touch, and she hated it.

With his free hand, he gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the heat of his erection pressing against her stomach, the thickness of his cock a blunt instrument of his desire. His hairy thighs brushed against her bare skin, and she flinched at the sensation.

"Such a whore," he murmured against her mouth, his tongue still invading her. "All dressed up like a good Indian wife, but deep down, you're just a slut waiting to be bred." His words were a slap in the face, a harsh reminder of her position in his twisted game.

With a vicious smile, Ramesh released her neck and cupped her face in his hands. "Look at me," he demanded, his thumbs tracing the line of her jaw, his nails digging into her skin. "Look at the man who's going to make you scream."

Her eyes searched his, and she found no mercy, only a cold hunger. She felt the panic rising in her chest, a scream building in her throat. But she knew it was futile. He was in control, and she was his prey. With a resigned sigh, she nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

Ramesh's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He took his time, his hands roaming over her body, savoring every inch of her softness. His fingers trailed along the curve of her neck, down to her breasts, then lower to her hips. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a cloying mixture of affection and domination. "You're going to be so good for me, Divya," he murmured. "So sweet and obedient, just like a good little whore should be."

With a sudden, brutal yank, he pulled her away from the wall and spun her around, pushing her down onto the bed. The mattress depressed under her weight, and she bounced slightly, the springs groaning in protest. She tried to push herself up, to get away, but his weight was already on her, his heavy frame pinning her down.

Ramesh's face was a mask of twisted desire as he leaned in, his breath hot and sour in her face. He grabbed her wrists with both hands, holding them above her head as he bent his face to her armpit. He licked her soft, sensitive skin with a hungry, almost desperate enthusiasm, his tongue probing deep into her pit. Divya felt a wave of revulsion, her stomach turning at the sensation.

"No," she whimpered, trying to squirm away, but his weight held her firmly in place. He ignored her protests, his mouth moving to her other armpit, his teeth nibbling at the soft flesh. He spat onto her clean shaven armpit, the warmth of his saliva spreading and mixing with her own sweat.

"Ramesh, please," she begged, her voice a broken whisper. But he was lost in his own perverted world, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The sound of his wet, sloppy licks and slurps filled the room, a symphony of degradation.

His hands moved down her body, his touch leaving a trail of disgust in its wake. He palmed her breasts, his rough calloused fingers pinching and rolling her nipples until she couldn't hold back a gasp of pain. He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin as he leaned in closer. "You're going to love this," he promised, his voice thick with lust.

Divya felt the bed dip as he positioned himself between her legs, his erection nudging against her thigh. Her heart hammered in her chest, her body rigid with fear. "Ramesh," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, not like this."

He just chuckled, his breath hot and moist against her ear. "Oh, Divya," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to love this. You're going to love having me inside you." His words were like acid, burning into her soul.

Ramesh's hands slid down her body, his fingers finding their way to her wet, trembling pussy. He parted her folds, the sound of his wetness mingling with hers making her cringe. He played with her clit, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body responding to his touch despite her mind screaming in protest.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath hot against her neck. "You're already begging for it. You're going to be such a good little slut for me." He thrust two fingers inside her, the sudden intrusion making her gasp. He pumped them in and out, his movements quick and rough. She could feel her pussy stretching around his thick digits, her body betraying her once again.

With a grunt, he pulled his fingers out, his hand leaving a sticky trail of her arousal on her thigh. He brought them to her face, the scent of her desire strong and pungent. "Lick them clean," he ordered, his voice a dark command.

Divya's eyes widened in horror, but she could see the triumph in his eyes. She knew that to refuse would only fuel his sadistic fire, so she parted her lips and took his fingers into her mouth. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of the situation as she tasted herself on his skin. His eyes bore into hers, watching the play of emotions across her face.


"Tell me you like it," Ramesh demanded in Hindi, his voice thick with lust. "Tell me you're a randi aurat who wants this."

Divya's eyes filled with tears, but she remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say the words. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on her neck. "Bol, Haramzaadi," he whispered, his hand moving to her throat, his grip tightening just enough to remind her of her lack of control.

Her voice shaky, she whispered, "I hate you, Ramesh."

He chuckled darkly. "Is that all you can say, bhainkelaudi?" He leaned down, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Say it in Hindi, Divya. Let me hear how much of a dirty slut you really are."

Her eyes searched for any escape, but all she saw was the wallpaper, the floral pattern seeming to mock her plight. With a shaky breath, she whispered, "Randi aurat ban gayi hoon main, Ramesh."

His grip on her neck tightened slightly, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Good," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "Now, let's see if you can be the whore I know you are."

He lay beside her, one arm thrown over her waist, his breathing heavy and content. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in the quiet of the night. "And every time you think about this, every time you touch yourself, you're going to remember who owns you."

Her body was a wreck, her mind in shambles. She didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Instead, she lay there, listening to the sound of their mingled breathing, feeling the sticky wetness between her legs, and she knew that she was irrevocably changed.