19-09-2025, 10:12 AM
(This post was last modified: 26-09-2025, 08:10 PM by amarmenonai. Edited 4 times in total. Edited 4 times in total.)
The Lady Super Star Nayanthara is The Producer's Plaything: A Tale of Pleasure and Power
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Producer Sharma could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for her to arrive. His cock throbbed in anticipation, straining against the fabric of his pants.
Nayanthara had been so captivating on set today that it was impossible not to imagine her naked. Her every movement seemed to tease him, from the way she laughed to how she moved around the set. She would bend over to pick something up and give him an eyeful of cleavage. Or laugh so hard her breasts jiggled invitingly. He couldn't get those images out of his mind now.
As the door clicked open, Producer Sharma felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. Nayanthara stepped into the room, her presence commanding and alluring. She wore a simple yet elegant sari that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her voluptuous figure. Her dark eyes sparkled with a mix of confidence and desire. "Producer Sharma," she said softly, her voice dripping with seduction.
"Nayantharaji, thank you for coming," Producer Sharma stammered, rising from his seat to greet her. She smiled coyly, "I'm glad you called me here. It's been… lonely since we wrapped up filming." She stepped closer, her hips swaying gently, the scent of her perfume filling the air between them. Her hand reached out, resting lightly on his chest. "But tonight, I don't want to be lonely anymore."
As soon as the words escaped her lips, she leaned in closer, pressing her body against his. Her breath was warm on his neck as she whispered, "Let's make this night unforgettable." Producer Sharma's hands found their way to her waist, pulling her even closer. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and it sent a shudder down his spine. His cock twitched in his pants, aching for release.
"Can I have some water?" she asked, looking up at him with a playful smile. He quickly poured her a glass and handed it to her, watching as she took a sip before placing the glass back on the table. She then turned towards him, her eyes locking onto his, and slowly began to unbutton her blouse revealing her ample cleavage, her breasts heaving slightly under the strain of her breathing.
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Nayanthara…" he breathed, unable to form complete sentences as his mind raced with lustful thoughts. She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You talk too much," she murmured, her hand moving down to the bulge in his pants, rubbing gently. "Tonight is about action, not words."
Her fingers deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his hairy chest. She traced patterns on his skin, teasing him with light touches that sent electric shocks through his body. Producer Sharma let out a low groan, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he tried to regain control. "Patience," she whispered, her tongue flicking out to lick his earlobe. "We have all night."
"Come, let us sit," she said, guiding him towards the bed. They sat side by side, the mattress sinking slightly under their weight. She turned to face him, her legs crossing beneath her silk sari, giving him a glimpse of her smooth, toned thighs. "Tell me, what do you think of me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Producer Sharma looked at her, taking in every detail of her beautiful face.
His gaze traveled down to her heaving breasts, the deep valley of cleavage on display, begging to be explored. "You are stunning, Nayanthara," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her cheek, tracing the curve of her jawline. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed briefly.
"Kiss me," she whispered, leaning in closer. Their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss that quickly grew more passionate. Producer Sharma's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Nayanthara moaned softly, her hands fisting in his hair as she kissed him back just as fervently.
She broke away from the kiss and pulled Producer Sharma even closer. He was taken aback by her urgency but responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist, feeling her warmth seep into him. Nayanthara's hands roamed over his shoulders, her touch sending shivers down his spine. She nibbled at his bottom lip playfully before whispering in his ear, "Tell me what you've been dreaming about while shooting."
Producer Sharma hesitated for a moment, his voice catching in his throat. "I-I dreamt about you," he admitted, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. Nayanthara smiled wickedly, her fingers trailing down his chest to toy with the waistband of his pants. "And what exactly did you dream about?" she purred, her eyes locked onto his. Producer Sharma swallowed hard, trying to find the words.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara's fingers teased the edge of his pants, her touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "I dreamt about your lips," he confessed, his voice husky with desire. "Your perfect body."
Nayanthara's eyes flashed with mischief as she listened to Producer Sharma's confession. She leaned in closer, her breath hot on his ear, and whispered, "Show me." Producer Sharma didn't need any more encouragement. His hands gripped her waist firmly, pulling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, even through the layers of clothing separating them.
Producer Sharma's hands trembled slightly as he reached up to cup Nayanthara's face, tilting her head back gently. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. She responded immediately, parting her lips to allow his tongue access. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths with increasing passion.
Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as she kissed him deeply. Producer Sharma's hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist and hips through the fabric of her sari. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardening beneath the thin material. Nayanthara ground against him, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.
Producer Sharma's grip tightened on Nayanthara's waist as she continued to grind against him, the friction building a delicious heat between them. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to squeeze her firm ass through the silky fabric of her sari. She gasped, breaking the kiss briefly before capturing his lips once again. Her tongue darted out to taste him, exploring his mouth with eager strokes.
Nayanthara moaned quietly into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his lips. Producer Sharma felt a surge of satisfaction knowing he was pleasuring her. He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping gently at the sensitive flesh. Nayanthara's head fell back, exposing more of her neck to him. Her breaths came in short gasps as she ground harder against him.
Producer Sharma's hands slid down to the hem of Nayanthara's sari, gathering the fabric in his fists. With one swift motion, he pulled it upwards, exposing her bare thighs inch by tantalizing inch. Nayanthara lifted herself up slightly to allow him better access, her movements urgent and needy. The sari bunched around her waist, leaving her lower body exposed to Producer Sharma's hungry gaze.
Suddenly, Nayanthara pushed Producer Sharma off, causing him to fall back onto the bed with a surprised grunt. She stood up, her breath ragged, and looked down at him with a smoldering gaze. "My turn," she said, her voice husky with desire. Producer Sharma watched, mesmerized, as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
Her full, round breasts spilled free, her large brown nipples already hard and erect. Nayanthara placed a knee on either side of Producer Sharma's hips, straddling him once again. This time, there was no barrier between them; he could feel the heat of her pussy against his rock-hard cock, separated only by the thin fabric of his pants. She leaned forward, cupping her breasts in her hands and offering them to Producer Sharma.
As the night deepened and the air inside the bedroom thickened with unspoken tension, Nayanthara’s phone rang softly on the table. The screen lit up with a familiar name — Wikki. Her husband. Acclaimed director. The man who knew her better than anyone else… and yet, never completely. She moved away from the dim glow of the bedside lamp, the soft fabric of her saree catching the light like molten silver. Across the room, Producer Sharma’s gaze lingered — not on her face, but on the contours of her body, illuminated like a living sculpture. She picked up the phone, her voice low and intimate, barely breaking the charged silence. “Hmm… yes, love?” Wikki’s voice, warm and laced with quiet concern, crackled softly through the line.
“Nayanthara… has the shoot wrapped for the day? Are you coming home in the morning?”
A faint smile touched her lips. Her fingers, almost unconsciously, drifted to her collarbone — a familiar, soothing gesture — as she leaned against the wall, her body silhouetted in the half-light.
“I will… soon,” she whispered. “Just finishing up.”
As her voice softened into the phone, somewhere between affection and exhaustion, Producer Sharma remained still, watching. Calculating. He was a man who read silences like scripts — a master of timing, of movements made in shadows.
And now, with her attention drawn elsewhere, he sensed it — an opening.
He stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. Not just toward her… but toward something else. Something waiting.
The air shifted around them, growing thicker, warmer. Boundaries blurred — between roles, between intentions, between the woman on the phone and the man who dared to interrupt.
Producer Sharma moved closer, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. He could see Nayanthara's profile in the dim light, her back arched slightly as she talked to Wikki, her free hand absently playing with the necklace at her throat. Her skin glowed softly, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. The sight of her was intoxicating, and Producer Sharma felt a primal urge surging through him.
Nayanthara's breath caught in her throat as she felt Producer Sharma's presence behind her. She tried to focus on Wikki's voice, but the proximity of another man was overwhelming her senses. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the musk of his cologne. Suddenly, she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her against him. She gasped into the phone, "Wikki… I'll call you back."
Nayanthara hung up the phone, her heart beating faster as Producer Sharma spun her around to face him. His eyes burned into hers, filled with a hunger that matched her own. Without a word, he reached up and untied the knot at her waist, letting the saree fall to the floor in a pool of silk. She stood before him, naked except for her panties, her body trembling with anticipation.
Producer Sharma's hands shook slightly as he reached out to take Nayanthara's phone from her grasp. She yielded it without resistance, her eyes never leaving his. He tossed the device onto the bed, his focus entirely on the goddess standing before him. Nayantara's breath hitched as Producer Sharma stepped closer, invading her personal space with a boldness that sent thrills through her body.
Producer Sharma leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "You are exquisite, Nayanthara. Every curve, every line of your body is perfection." He let his fingers trail down her arm, eliciting goosebumps along her skin. "Your beauty leaves me speechless." His other hand rested on her hip, pulling her flush against him.
"Every moment of our time together has been a dream come true," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. "And tonight, I get to wake up in paradise." Nayanthara's breath hitched as Producer Sharma's words sent shivers down her spine. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, steady and strong. Her own heart pounded wildly, echoing the desire that coursed through her veins.
Nayanthara's hands moved to Producer Sharma's belt, swiftly undoing it and pushing his pants down. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking gently as she looked up at him. "Is this what you dreamed about?" she asked, her voice sultry. Producer Sharma groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she stroked him. "Yes," he rasped. "But the reality is so much better."
"Tell me," Nayanthara whispered, her hand still working Producer Sharma's cock. "What else did you dream about?" Producer Sharma took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto hers. "I imagined myself worshipping every inch of your body," he confessed. His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her wetness. "Making you moan my name as I tasted you here." He circled her clit, making her gasp. "Fucking you until you screamed my name."
The ringing of Nayanthara's phone shattered the intimate moment. It lay discarded on the bed, Wikki's name flashing across the screen. Producer Sharma froze, his hand still between Nayanthara's thighs, her arousal coating his fingers. Her breath hitched, torn between desire and duty. Producer Sharma withdrew his hand reluctantly, stepping back slightly. "Answer it," he said, his voice hoarse with restraint.
Nayanthara looked at the phone, then back at Producer Sharma. She bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eye. Instead of answering, she turned back to Producer Sharma and pushed him onto the bed. He landed with a thud, looking up at her in surprise. Nayanthara crawled onto the bed, straddling him, and leaned down to capture his lips in a fierce kiss.
Nayanthara broke the kiss, her lips curling into a wicked smile. She leaned down to whisper in Producer Sharma's ear, "I think we can make one of those dreams come true right now." With that, she began kissing her way down his body, lingering at his nipple to flick it with her tongue. Producer Sharma groaned, arching his back slightly.
Her kisses trailed lower, her tongue swirling around his belly button before continuing southwards. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His cock sprung free, standing at attention. Nayanthara smirked, looking up at Producer Sharma through her lashes. "Now, where were we?" she purred, wrapping her hand around his shaft and giving it a teasing stroke.
She lowered her head, her tongue darting out to taste the precum beading at his tip. Producer Sharma gasped, his hips jerking upward. Nayanthara took his cock fully into her mouth, her hand gripping the base tightly. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass. Her tongue swirled around his length, tasting every inch of him.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara increased the pressure, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. She sucked harder, creating a vacuum that pulled him deeper into her throat. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. Producer Sharma groaned loudly, his hands fisting the sheets as pleasure coursed through him. "Oh god, Nayanthara," he panted, his hips thrusting upwards involuntarily.
Nayanthara released his cock with a pop, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she saw the desperate look in Producer Sharma's eyes. She leaned in closer, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered, "Not so fast, my dear. I want to savor every moment." She nibbled gently on his earlobe, feeling him shudder beneath her. Her hand resumed its relentless pumping, slick with saliva and pre-cum.
Nayanthara trailed her fingers down Producer Sharma's chest, over his abdomen, and lower still. She brushed against his balls lightly, feeling their weight shift as they tightened with arousal. One finger slid further back, pressing gently against the sensitive spot between his balls and his hole. Producer Sharma gasped, his body tensing under her touch.
Nayanthara smiled at Producer Sharma's reaction, her finger continuing to apply gentle pressure. Then, without warning, she leaned down and ran her tongue lightly over his balls, causing him to jump slightly. She chuckled, her breath hot on his skin, before taking one of his balls into her mouth, suckling gently. Her finger pressed firmer against his perineum, massaging in slow, steady circles.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara continued to explore his most sensitive areas, her touch both teasing and insistent. But suddenly, she paused, sitting back on her heels. With a playful glint in her eye, she pushed Producer Sharma off the bed, sending him tumbling onto the floor with a startled grunt. He looked up at her, confused and aroused. "Get up," she commanded, her voice husky with desire.
Producer Sharma quickly scrambled to his feet, his eyes never leaving Nayanthara's. She stood tall and commanding, her body bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. With deliberate slowness, she began to unbutton her blouse, revealing inch after inch of her smooth, golden skin.
Producer Sharma approached Nayanthara, his steps measured and controlled despite the raging storm within him. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her blouse as it fell open, revealing more of her luscious curves. She stood still, allowing him to explore, her breathing shallow and rapid. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her close, their bodies pressing together.
Nayanthara pushed Producer Sharma back onto the bed, climbing atop him. She straddled his hips, grinding her wet pussy against his rock-hard cock. She leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss as she rubbed herself against him, coating his length with her juices. Producer Sharma groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Nayanthara broke the kiss, her breath ragged. "Fuck me, Producer Sharma," she demanded.
The phone rang again, cutting through the charged atmosphere. Wikki's name flashed across the screen once more. Nayanthara hesitated for a moment, her eyes meeting Producer Sharma's. Then, with a defiant sparkle in her eye, she reached down and positioned Producer Sharma's cock at her entrance. "Make me scream your name," she whispered, sinking down onto him slowly.
The phone rang insistently, Wikki's name lighting up the screen with a sense of urgency. Nayanthara ignored it, her focus entirely on Producer Sharma buried inside her. She began to ride him, her hips rolling in slow, sensual circles as she adjusted to his size. Producer Sharma gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he watched her move above him. Their eyes locked, the connection intense and electric.
Nayanthara picked up the pace, riding Producer Sharma faster, her hips undulating with increasing urgency. The phone rang again, but she was lost in the rhythm of their bodies, chasing the pleasure that built with each thrust. Producer Sharma's hands gripped her waist, guiding her movements as he met her thrusts with his own. Their breaths mingled, harsh and ragged, filling the room with the sounds of their passion.
Nayanthara threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she began to moan loudly. "Oh fuck, Producer Sharma!" she cried out, her voice filled with raw desire. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mixing with her moans and Producer Sharma's grunts of pleasure. She rode him harder, faster, her nails digging into his chest as she chased her release. "Don't stop," she panted. "Please don't stop."
Producer Sharma's hands tightened on Nayanthara's hips, holding her steady as he slammed up into her. The sudden change in rhythm made her cry out, her body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Producer Sharma grunted, his teeth gritted as he drove himself deeper into her. "You feel so good," he growled, his voice strained with effort. He reached up, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her down to him roughly.
He stopped mid-thrust, leaving his cock buried deep inside her. "Kiss me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. Nayanthara leaned down, pressing her lips against his in a searing kiss. Producer Sharma devoured her mouth, his tongue exploring every inch as his hands gripped her ass cheeks tightly. After a few moments, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice barely recognizable.
Nayanthara began to move again, lifting her hips up and down, impaling herself on Producer Sharma's rigid member. They both groaned in pleasure as she found her rhythm. The phone continued to ring, persistent and loud. Producer Sharma glanced at it, his expression darkening. He reached over and grabbed the device, silencing the incessant noise. He tossed the phone aside, his focus returning to Nayanthara.
The door to the suite burst open, crashing against the wall with a bang. Nayanthara froze, her eyes wide with shock as she turned to see who had entered. Standing in the doorway was Financier Financiar Reddy, his face contorted with rage. His eyes flicked from Nayanthara to Producer Sharma and back again, taking in the scene before him. "How dare you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "How fucking dare you betray me like this."
Nayanthara's breath hitched as she looked from Producer Sharma to Financiar Reddy, panic rising in her chest. "Financiar Reddy…" she began, her voice shaking. She started to climb off Producer Sharma, but he held her tightly in place, his grip firm and unyielding. "Stay right there," he murmured, his eyes locked onto Financiar Reddy. "Let's finish what we started."
Producer Sharma's gaze shifted to meet Financiar Reddy's, his expression steely and determined. He refused to let go of Nayanthara, keeping her impaled on his cock as he sat up straighter, putting himself between her and Financiar Reddy. "This is none of your business," Producer Sharma said, his voice calm yet firm. "Whatever arrangement you two have, it doesn't give you any rights over her." Financiar Reddy's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.
Nayanthara, her mind racing with fear and confusion, gently extricated herself from Producer Sharma's grasp. She climbed off him, feeling the cold air hit her exposed flesh as she stood beside the bed. "Financiar Reddy," she said again, her voice pleading. "It's not what it looks like." Financiar Reddy scoffed, his eyes boring into hers. "Save your lies, Nayanthara," he snapped. "I know exactly what this is."
Nayanthara dropped to her knees, crawling towards Financiar Reddy on all fours. She could feel Producer Sharma's eyes on her, but her focus was solely on the man who held power over her career-and so much more. She reached Financiar Reddy, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Financiar Reddy, please," she whispered, placing her hands on his thighs. Slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against his.
Financiar Reddy's hands shot out, grabbing Nayanthara by the arms and yanking her to her feet. "Don't you dare try to seduce me after this," he snarled. His eyes flicked to Producer Sharma, still seated on the bed, his cock standing proudly. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I would just let you fuck her like some common whore?"
Financiar Reddy's hand flew out, connecting with Nayanthara's cheek in a sharp slap. The sound echoed through the room, and Nayanthara stumbled back, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Financiar Reddy in shock and pain. "How dare you speak to me like that," he sneered. "You belong to me, do you understand? You're mine."
Nayanthara, tears streaming down her face, reached out tentatively towards Financiar Reddy. Her small hand grasped his semi-hard cock through his pants, stroking it gently. "I'm sorry, Financiar Reddy," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Please forgive me. Please…" She looked up at him with pleading eyes, her hand working to bring him to full erection.
Financiar Reddy's breath hitched as Nayanthara sank to her knees before him, her hand already working on his belt. She freed his cock, stroking it gently as she looked up at him with those pleading eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth, sucking greedily. Financiar Reddy groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he held her head steady, forcing her to take him deeper.
Nayanthara's mouth worked tirelessly on Financiar Reddy's cock, her free hand reaching up to stroke his shaft in tandem with her eager suction. Her other hand gripped his thigh tightly, holding her balance as she bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass. Saliva dripped from her lips, coating his length as she sucked and licked fervently.
Financiar Reddy's grip on Nayanthara's hair tightened, his hips beginning to thrust in time with her movements. He groaned loudly, his control slipping as she sucked him off expertly. "That's it," he panted. "Take my cock, you slut." His words were harsher than usual, fueled by the anger still coursing through him. Suddenly, he pulled away from her, his cock popping out of her mouth with an audible smack.
Producer Sharma watched intently as Financiar Reddy pulled away from Nayanthara, his cock glistening with her saliva. He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the couple, waiting to see how things would unfold. Nayanthara looked up at Financiar Reddy, her expression a mix of submission and desperation. She knew better than to disobey him when he was like this.
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara begged, her voice trembling. "Please forgive me. I'll do anything." She reached for his cock again, but he stepped back, avoiding her touch. "Anything," she repeated, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. "Just tell me what you want."
Financiar Reddy looked down at Nayanthara, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at her kneeling form. Then, abruptly, he cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Lick my shoes," he commanded. Without hesitation, Nayanthara leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick the polished leather of Financiar Reddy's shoes. She could taste the dirt and dust from the day, but she didn't care.
Financiar Reddy pressed his foot down on Nayanthara's back, pushing her further onto the floor. "Clean them properly," he ordered, his voice cold. Nayanthara complied eagerly, her tongue swiping across every inch of his shoe. When she was done, he lifted his foot and placed it on her shoulder, nudging her until she lay flat on her back. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She did so immediately, exposing her glistening pussy to him.
Financiar Reddy stepped closer to Nayanthara, positioning himself between her spread thighs. He looked down at her, his expression a mixture of dominance and lust. "You want forgiveness?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg for it."
Financiar Reddy spat on Nayanthara, his saliva landing squarely on her exposed pussy. He rubbed his foot into her slit, smearing his spit around roughly. "Beg for it," he repeated, applying pressure to her clit with his heel. Nayanthara gasped, arching her back slightly. "Please, Financiar Reddy," she panted. "Forgive me. I need your cock. I need you to use me."
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara pleaded, her voice desperate. "Fuck me. Fuck me and punish me at the same time. Make me yours again. I'm so sorry for cheating on you."
Financiar Reddy pushed harder with his foot, grinding it into Nayanthara's pussy. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice cruel. "Do you want to be used like a cheap whore?" She nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath him. "Yes," she gasped. "Use me however you want. Just please, don't leave me."
Nayanthara spread her legs wider, opening herself completely to Financiar Reddy. "Look at me," she whispered. "See how wet I am for you." She slid two fingers into her pussy, showing him just how ready she was. "Fuck me like this," she begged. "Punish me with your cock."
Financiar Reddy smirked down at Nayanthara, enjoying the sight of her splayed out before him. He released his grip on her chin, allowing his hand to trail down her body instead. His fingers brushed lightly over her skin, tracing patterns as they moved lower and lower. He circled her breasts, teasing her erect nipples but never touching them directly.
His fingers dipped lower, dancing across her stomach and hips. He brushed ever so lightly against her thighs, moving closer and closer to her aching pussy. "Please," Nayanthara moaned loudly, bucking her hips upwards in a desperate attempt to get more friction. Financiar Reddy chuckled darkly, finally letting his fingertips graze her slick folds.
"Pathetic," Financiar Reddy muttered, circling her clit with his thumb. "You're so desperate for my cock." Nayanthara moaned again, her body writhing under his touch. He laughed darkly, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers while he continued to rub her clit mercilessly. "Tell me how much you need it," he demanded.
"I need your cock so bad, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara cried out. "I need you to fill me up and make me come." She arched her back, offering herself to him completely. Financiar Reddy smiled cruelly, removing his hand from her pussy and bringing it to her asshole. He pushed a finger in slowly, eliciting a gasp from Nayanthara. "That's right," he taunted. "Be a good girl and take my finger in your tight ass."
Financiar Reddy withdrew his finger from Nayanthara's asshole suddenly, causing her to whimper in protest. He raised his hand and brought it down sharply against her cheek, the sound echoing through the room. "You don't deserve to come," he sneered. "Not after what you've done." He slapped her again, harder this time, leaving a red mark on her skin.
Financiar Reddy's hand connected with Nayanthara's breast, the force sending ripples through her flesh. "Who do you belong to?" he growled, slapping her other breast. She cried out, her back arching off the floor. "You!" she screamed. "I belong to you, Financiar Reddy! Only you!" He slapped her breasts again, harder this time, leaving angry red marks on her dark skin.
"Mercy, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara sobbed, covering her breasts with her hands. "Please have mercy on me." She curled into a fetal position, her body shaking with sobs. "I can't take anymore. Please forgive me."
Producer Sharma watched silently from the bed, his own cock throbbing with arousal as Financiar Reddy tormented Nayanthara. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving the couple. Nayanthara's tears and pleas only seemed to fuel Financiar Reddy's cruelty, making Producer Sharma wonder if there was something more going on between them than just a simple business arrangement.
Financiar Reddy paused, looking down at Nayanthara's cowering form. Her body shook with sobs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. He took a step back, his chest heaving as he regained control of his emotions. After a moment, he extended his hand to her. "Get up," he said gruffly. Nayanthara hesitated before taking his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Financiar Reddy wiped the tears from her cheeks, his expression softening slightly.
Financiar Reddy pulled Nayanthara close, crushing her body against his. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips with the ferocity of his mouth on hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she surrendered completely to his embrace. Their tongues clashed together, their breaths mingling as they devoured one another.
Financiar Reddy broke the kiss, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. He grabbed Nayanthara by the hair and turned her around, bending her over the edge of the bed. He positioned himself behind her, his cock poised at her entrance. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled. "To be used like a slut?" With that, he slammed into her, filling her completely in one brutal thrust.
Producer Sharma's hand moved faster along his shaft as he watched Financiar Reddy take Nayanthara from behind. He could hear the wet sounds of their coupling, could see the way her body jolted with each punishing thrust. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his own orgasm as he stroked himself in time with Financiar Reddy's movements.
As Producer Sharma jerked off, his eyes narrowed with jealousy as he watched Financiar Reddy dominate Nayanthara. He had been hoping to be the one to punish her for their infidelity, and seeing Financiar Reddy take that role grated on him deeply. The producer's grip tightened around his cock, his strokes becoming more urgent as he imagined being the one to claim Nayanthara's body. He could feel his climax building, but he refused to give in yet.
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara panted, glancing back at Producer Sharma. "Let him join us. Let him suck his cock while you fuck me." Financiar Reddy followed her gaze, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he looked at Producer Sharma. "You heard her," he said. "Come here."
Producer Sharma climbed off the bed, his cock standing proud and leaking pre-cum. He approached Nayanthara and Financiar Reddy, his eyes locked on the beautiful actress bent over before him. "Open your mouth," Producer Sharma commanded, his voice husky with desire. Nayanthara obeyed instantly, her lips parting to reveal her pink tongue.
Producer Sharma grabbed Nayanthara by the hair, pulling her head back sharply. He forced his cock into her mouth, not caring about her comfort or consent. "Suck it," he grunted, using her hair to control her movements. Tears streamed down her face as she gagged on his length, but Financiar Reddy showed no mercy, continuing to pound into her from behind.
Financiar Reddy leaned down, his breath hot on Nayanthara's ear. "Such a dirty slut," he whispered harshly. "Taking both our cocks at once." He reached around, squeezing her throat as he continued to slam into her. "Choke on his cum like a good whore."
Nayanthara moaned louder around Producer Sharma's cock, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through his body. She relaxed her throat, taking him deeper as she matched his brutal pace. Financiar Reddy groaned, feeling her pussy clamp down around his shaft as she succumbed to their shared cruelty. "That's it," he growled. "Show us what a dirty slut you really are."
Producer Sharma pulled his cock from Nayanthara's mouth, saliva stretching between them. He spat on her face, watching as his spit dripped down her cheek. "You're such a filthy bitch," he sneered. "Loving every minute of this, aren't you?"
"Stop!" Nayanthara cried out in pain as Producer Sharma's spit hit her eye. "It burns! It burns!" Financiar Reddy cursed under his breath, pulling out of her and stepping back. "What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, turning to face Producer Sharma. Before Producer Sharma could respond, Nayanthara scrambled off the bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it tightly. "Nayanthara!" Financiar Reddy shouted, pounding on the door.
After a few moments, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Nayanthara's naked form. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her mascara had run down her cheeks. She stood there silently, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me."
Financiar Reddy stepped aside, allowing Producer Sharma access to Nayanthara. "Clean her up," he commanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Producer Sharma hesitated for a moment before entering the bathroom. He wetted a washcloth with warm water and gently began wiping away the remnants of Nayanthara's makeup. She winced as the cloth touched her sensitive skin, but she didn't pull away. Once her face was clean, Producer Sharma held her gaze in the mirror.
Producer Sharma cupped Nayanthara's cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. "Better?" he asked quietly. She nodded, opening her eyes to look at him. "Thank you," she murmured. Producer Sharma studied her reflection, taking in the sight of her naked body. He trailed his fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, and between her breasts.
Nayanthara blushed deeply under Producer Sharma's touch, her cheeks flushing a dark crimson. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "Please," she whispered. "Don't stop." Producer Sharma smirked, running his hand down her flat stomach and further still. He cupped her mound, his fingers brushing against her damp curls. "So eager," he murmured, slipping one finger between her folds.
Financiar Reddy grabbed Nayanthara by the arm, pulling her away from Producer Sharma. "Sit," he ordered, pushing her down onto the closed toilet lid. She yelped in surprise, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He held her gaze, his expression stern. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She obeyed without hesitation, opening herself to him completely. Financiar Reddy smirked, turning to Producer Sharma. "Your turn."
Producer Sharma stepped forward, his lips crashing onto Nayanthara's. She moaned into his mouth, her arms snaking around his neck as she pulled him closer. Financiar Reddy watched them for a moment before dropping to his knees in front of Nayanthara. He grabbed her thighs roughly, spreading them even wider apart.
He broke the kiss, pushing Producer Sharma towards Nayanthara's waiting pussy. He positioned himself behind Nayanthara, grabbing her hair and forcing her head back as Producer Sharma got on his knees. Producer Sharma licked his lips as he looked at Nayanthara's glistening folds, ready to feast on her delicious nectar. He lowered his head and ran his tongue up her slit, eliciting a loud moan from Nayanthara.
Financiar Reddy tightened his grip on Nayanthara's hair, forcing her to arch her back. "You will listen to us," he growled. "And you will do everything we say." Nayanthara gasped, nodding her agreement as best she could with Financiar Reddy holding her so tightly. "Yes, sir," she breathed. Producer Sharma looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust and hunger. "Good girl," he murmured before diving back into her pussy, sucking her clit into his mouth.
Financiar Reddy released Nayanthara's hair and stood up, his cock bobbing obscenely in front of her face. "Open your mouth," he commanded. She complied immediately, her jaw dropping open as she looked up at him eagerly. Financiar Reddy grabbed her chin, tilting her head back further as he slid his cock into her mouth. He thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried balls-deep in her throat.
Nayanthara gagged around Financiar Reddy's thick cock, her eyes watering as he held her head steady. "Breathe through your nose," he instructed coldly. "You can take all of me." He began to move his hips, sliding his cock in and out of her throat brutally. Saliva dripped down her chin as she struggled to breathe, her nails digging into Producer Sharma's scalp where he continued to devour her pussy.
Producer Sharma pulled away from Nayanthara's pussy, standing up and pressing his body against hers. He rubbed his cock against her slippery folds, teasing her entrance. "Is this what you want?" he whispered in her ear. "To be taken by both of us at the same time?" She moaned, nodding eagerly. Financiar Reddy pulled his cock from her throat, letting her gasp for air as Producer Sharma lined himself up with her dripping hole.
"Fuck me," Nayanthara begged, writhing between the two men. "Please, I need both of you inside me." Producer Sharma didn't waste any time, thrusting into her pussy in one smooth motion. She cried out, her body stretching to accommodate his girth. Behind her, Financiar Reddy spat on his hand and rubbed it over her tight little star, preparing her for his invasion.
Financiar Reddy massaged Nayanthara's ass cheeks roughly, his fingertips circling her puckered hole. He pressed firmly against the tight ring of muscle, feeling it give slightly beneath his touch. "Relax," he murmured, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. "Let me in."
Financiar Reddy slapped Nayanthara's ass hard, leaving a bright red handprint on her pale skin. She yelped, her body jerking forward against Producer Sharma. "Did I tell you to relax?" Financiar Reddy growled, rubbing the sore spot gently. "No, sir," she whispered. "Now push out for me."
Nayanthara pushed out obediently, feeling her asshole loosen slightly. Financiar Reddy wasted no time, pressing the tip of his cock against her tight bud. "More," she pleaded, wriggling back against him. "Give me more." He grabbed her hips, holding her still as he began to push into her. She gasped, her body resisting the intrusion as he stretched her open.
"Look at me," Producer Sharma whispered, tipping Nayanthara's chin up to meet his gaze. His hips moved slowly, drawing out of her pussy before sliding back in. "You're taking both our cocks so well." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "But I want you to do something for me." Nayanthara moaned softly, her eyes glazed with lust. "Anything," she breathed. Producer Sharma smiled darkly.
Financiar Reddy brought his hand down sharply on Nayanthara's other cheek, leaving another red mark on her flesh. "You'll do anything we say," he reminded her, still slowly working his cock into her ass. "Won't you?" She nodded quickly, her breath coming in short pants. "Yes, sir. Yes, I will." Producer Sharma leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then show us how much you love being our slut," he murmured. "Cum for us."
Financiar Reddy pulled out of Nayanthara abruptly, causing her to cry out in protest. Producer Sharma stood up, his cock slick with her juices. "Turn around," he commanded, helping her stand on shaking legs. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with desire and confusion. He pushed her down onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her. "Arch your back," he instructed, running his hands over her sweat-slick skin.
Financiar Reddy smacked Nayanthara's ass cheek, making her jump. "Keep those tits off the floor," he ordered. She propped herself up on her elbows, her breasts swaying heavily beneath her. Producer Sharma positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slippery folds. "Ready for round two?" he teased.
"Please," Nayanthara pleaded, looking back at Producer Sharma over her shoulder. "Fuck my pussy harder. Fuck me like the slut I am." Producer Sharma smirked, gripping her hips tightly as he slammed into her. She screamed in pleasure, her body jolting forward with each forceful thrust. Financiar Reddy knelt in front of her, his cock level with her face. "Suck it," he commanded, tapping her cheek with his length.
She opened her mouth obediently, taking Financiar Reddy's cock between her lips. He grabbed her hair, using it to hold her head in place as he began to face-fuck her roughly. Producer Sharma pulled out of Nayanthara's pussy, his cock glistening with her juices. He pressed the tip against her tight asshole, pushing into her slowly. She moaned around Financiar Reddy's cock, her body tensing as Producer Sharma stretched her open.
Financiar Reddy pulled his cock from Nayanthara's mouth, leaving her gasping for breath. "I want to hear you scream," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Producer Sharma withdrew from her ass, giving Financiar Reddy room to take his place. Nayanthara braced herself, knowing what was coming. Financiar Reddy lined up his cock with her gaping hole, spitting on it generously before pushing in.
Financiar Reddy thrust into Nayanthara's ass hard, not bothering to go slow. She screamed loudly, her body convulsing as he impaled her on his thick cock. He grunted in satisfaction, grabbing her hips tightly as he began to pound into her relentlessly. Producer Sharma stood in front of her, stroking his cock slowly as he watched the brutal display unfold.
Producer Sharma moved closer, guiding his cock back into Nayanthara's pussy. She moaned loudly, the sensation of being filled in both holes overwhelming her senses. Financiar Reddy and Producer Sharma established a rhythm, taking turns thrusting into her while the other held still. The room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans, along with the wet slapping noise of flesh meeting flesh. "Fuck," Producer Sharma groaned, his hips moving faster.
Producer Sharma grabbed Nayanthara's hips, halting Financiar Reddy's movements. "My turn," he growled, taking full control. He set a punishing pace, hammering into her pussy while Financiar Reddy remained buried in her ass. Nayanthara screamed incoherently, her body rocked back and forth between the two powerful men. She felt her orgasm building rapidly, her inner muscles clenching tightly around Producer Sharma's cock.
"Fuck my ass," Nayanthara begged, looking back at Financiar Reddy desperately. "Please, sir, fuck my ass while he fucks my cunt." Financiar Reddy needed no further encouragement, grabbing her hips tightly as he began to piston in and out of her tight channel. Their combined efforts drove Nayanthara wild, her body writhing between them as they took their pleasure from her.
Financiar Reddy pulled out of Nayanthara's ass, leaving her whimpering at the sudden emptiness. He spat on her exposed hole, watching as his saliva dripped down her crack. He gathered more saliva in his mouth, spitting on her ass again before rubbing it in with his thumb.
Nayanthara panted heavily, her body trembling with need. "More," she begged, glancing back at Financiar Reddy over her shoulder. "Please, sir, give me more cock." Financiar Reddy smirked, lining his cock up with her well-lubricated asshole. He pushed into her slowly, groaning as her tight channel gripped him like a vice. Producer Sharma picked up the pace, slamming into Nayanthara's pussy with abandon.
Nayanthara's body shook violently between the two men, their cocks filling her completely. Tears streamed down her face, but they were not tears of pain. They were tears of pure, unadulterated joy. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. She had never felt so full, so used, so utterly owned. "Oh god," she sobbed, her body convulsing wildly. "It feels so good. So fucking good."
Nayanthara's moans filled the room, loud and uninhibited. "Mmmm… oh yes…" She writhed between the two men, her body slick with sweat. Producer Sharma reached around, pinching her nipples sharply, rolling them between his fingers. Financiar Reddy smacked her ass hard, leaving a bright red mark on her skin. "Louder," he demanded. "Let us hear that pretty mouth of yours."
Producer Sharma increased his pace, pounding into Nayanthara's pussy fiercely. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mingling with her loud moans. "That's it," Producer Sharma grunted. "Scream for us." He reached under her, finding her clit with his fingers and rubbing it roughly. "Cum for us, you dirty slut." Nayanthara threw her head back, screaming loudly as her orgasm crashed over her.
"Please," Nayanthara begged, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Let me taste your cum." She turned pleading eyes to Producer Sharma first, then to Financiar Reddy. "I want to suck your cocks clean." Financiar Reddy pulled out of her ass immediately, his cock throbbing and wet. He stood in front of her, fisting his shaft as he smeared pre-cum across her cheek. "Lick it off," he commanded.
Nayanthara stuck out her tongue, eager to obey. She swiped it across Financiar Reddy's cheek, tasting the mixture of his precum and her own ass juice. He grunted in approval, stepping closer so she could take him fully into her mouth. Meanwhile, Producer Sharma withdrew from her pussy, moving to stand beside Financiar Reddy. Nayanthara reached for his cock, wrapping her fingers around the base as she began to suck Financiar Reddy enthusiastically.
Nayanthara took Producer Sharma's cock into her mouth, swallowing him down greedily. She relaxed her throat, taking him all the way in until her nose touched his pelvis. She held him there for a moment, her eyes watering, before pulling back off with a gasp. "Fuck," Financiar Reddy groaned, his hips bucking as Nayanthara bobbed her head up and down his shaft.
Financiar Reddy tangled his fingers in Nayanthara's hair, holding her head still as he fucked her mouth. "I'm going to cum," he grunted, his hips moving faster. "Take it. Take all my cum." He came with a roar, shooting rope after rope of hot seed down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, moaning around his cock as she drank him down. When he finally pulled out, she gasped for breath, his cum dripping from her chin.
Producer Sharma tugged at Nayanthara's hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Your turn," he said, his voice rough with lust. She opened her mouth obediently, sticking out her tongue as she waited for him to feed her his cock. He slid into her waiting maw, groaning at the sight of her swollen lips wrapped around his shaft. He began to move his hips, fucking her mouth slowly as he built towards his climax.
Nayanthara released Producer Sharma's cock with a pop, turning her attention to Financiar Reddy. She kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of their combined cum with him. He growled into her mouth, his hands gripping her hair tightly as he devoured her. Behind her, Producer Sharma began to thrust into her mouth once more, his grip on her hair matching Financiar Reddy's intensity.
Producer Sharma smiled down at Nayanthara, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're such a good slut," he praised, his voice husky with lust. He slowed his thrusts, savoring the feel of her hot mouth on his cock. With her free hand, she reached out and stroked Financiar Reddy's half-hard cock, already eager for more.
Producer Sharma chuckled, his smile turning wicked. "You can't get enough, can you?" he asked, even as he quickened his pace, fucking her mouth in earnest now. He held her head still, using her oral cavity for his own pleasure. Saliva dripped down her chin as he slid his cock in and out of her willing mouth. Beside them, Financiar Reddy's cock stirred back to life, hardening rapidly under Nayanthara's skillful touch.
Producer Sharma's grip tightened in Nayantara's hair as he neared his peak. "I'm going to fill your mouth with my cum," he warned, his voice strained with effort. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, begging him silently to use her for his pleasure. With a final grunt, he erupted, pumping jet after jet of hot semen onto her tongue. She swallowed reflexively, trying to keep up with the deluge.
Double Teamed Nayanthara swallowed eagerly, her mouth filling with Producer Sharma's warm seed. She sucked him dry, milking his cock until he pulled away gently. Cum dribbled down her chin, mixing with the saliva and precum that coated her face. Financiar Reddy watched her intently, his cock rock hard once more. He reached down, wiping the mess from her face with his thumb before sucking it clean.
Nayanthara smiled up at Financiar Reddy, her eyes shining brightly. "Thank you, sir," she purred, leaning into his touch. She licked her lips seductively, still tasting the combined flavors of both men. "What would you like to do with me next?" Producer Sharma chuckled, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "She's insatiable," he remarked, looking at Financiar Reddy. "We created a sex monster!"
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Producer Sharma could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for her to arrive. His cock throbbed in anticipation, straining against the fabric of his pants.
Nayanthara had been so captivating on set today that it was impossible not to imagine her naked. Her every movement seemed to tease him, from the way she laughed to how she moved around the set. She would bend over to pick something up and give him an eyeful of cleavage. Or laugh so hard her breasts jiggled invitingly. He couldn't get those images out of his mind now.
As the door clicked open, Producer Sharma felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. Nayanthara stepped into the room, her presence commanding and alluring. She wore a simple yet elegant sari that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her voluptuous figure. Her dark eyes sparkled with a mix of confidence and desire. "Producer Sharma," she said softly, her voice dripping with seduction.
"Nayantharaji, thank you for coming," Producer Sharma stammered, rising from his seat to greet her. She smiled coyly, "I'm glad you called me here. It's been… lonely since we wrapped up filming." She stepped closer, her hips swaying gently, the scent of her perfume filling the air between them. Her hand reached out, resting lightly on his chest. "But tonight, I don't want to be lonely anymore."
As soon as the words escaped her lips, she leaned in closer, pressing her body against his. Her breath was warm on his neck as she whispered, "Let's make this night unforgettable." Producer Sharma's hands found their way to her waist, pulling her even closer. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and it sent a shudder down his spine. His cock twitched in his pants, aching for release.
"Can I have some water?" she asked, looking up at him with a playful smile. He quickly poured her a glass and handed it to her, watching as she took a sip before placing the glass back on the table. She then turned towards him, her eyes locking onto his, and slowly began to unbutton her blouse revealing her ample cleavage, her breasts heaving slightly under the strain of her breathing.
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Nayanthara…" he breathed, unable to form complete sentences as his mind raced with lustful thoughts. She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You talk too much," she murmured, her hand moving down to the bulge in his pants, rubbing gently. "Tonight is about action, not words."
Her fingers deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his hairy chest. She traced patterns on his skin, teasing him with light touches that sent electric shocks through his body. Producer Sharma let out a low groan, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he tried to regain control. "Patience," she whispered, her tongue flicking out to lick his earlobe. "We have all night."
"Come, let us sit," she said, guiding him towards the bed. They sat side by side, the mattress sinking slightly under their weight. She turned to face him, her legs crossing beneath her silk sari, giving him a glimpse of her smooth, toned thighs. "Tell me, what do you think of me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Producer Sharma looked at her, taking in every detail of her beautiful face.
His gaze traveled down to her heaving breasts, the deep valley of cleavage on display, begging to be explored. "You are stunning, Nayanthara," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her cheek, tracing the curve of her jawline. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed briefly.
"Kiss me," she whispered, leaning in closer. Their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss that quickly grew more passionate. Producer Sharma's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Nayanthara moaned softly, her hands fisting in his hair as she kissed him back just as fervently.
She broke away from the kiss and pulled Producer Sharma even closer. He was taken aback by her urgency but responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist, feeling her warmth seep into him. Nayanthara's hands roamed over his shoulders, her touch sending shivers down his spine. She nibbled at his bottom lip playfully before whispering in his ear, "Tell me what you've been dreaming about while shooting."
Producer Sharma hesitated for a moment, his voice catching in his throat. "I-I dreamt about you," he admitted, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. Nayanthara smiled wickedly, her fingers trailing down his chest to toy with the waistband of his pants. "And what exactly did you dream about?" she purred, her eyes locked onto his. Producer Sharma swallowed hard, trying to find the words.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara's fingers teased the edge of his pants, her touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "I dreamt about your lips," he confessed, his voice husky with desire. "Your perfect body."
Nayanthara's eyes flashed with mischief as she listened to Producer Sharma's confession. She leaned in closer, her breath hot on his ear, and whispered, "Show me." Producer Sharma didn't need any more encouragement. His hands gripped her waist firmly, pulling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, even through the layers of clothing separating them.
Producer Sharma's hands trembled slightly as he reached up to cup Nayanthara's face, tilting her head back gently. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. She responded immediately, parting her lips to allow his tongue access. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths with increasing passion.
Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as she kissed him deeply. Producer Sharma's hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist and hips through the fabric of her sari. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardening beneath the thin material. Nayanthara ground against him, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.
Producer Sharma's grip tightened on Nayanthara's waist as she continued to grind against him, the friction building a delicious heat between them. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to squeeze her firm ass through the silky fabric of her sari. She gasped, breaking the kiss briefly before capturing his lips once again. Her tongue darted out to taste him, exploring his mouth with eager strokes.
Nayanthara moaned quietly into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his lips. Producer Sharma felt a surge of satisfaction knowing he was pleasuring her. He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping gently at the sensitive flesh. Nayanthara's head fell back, exposing more of her neck to him. Her breaths came in short gasps as she ground harder against him.
Producer Sharma's hands slid down to the hem of Nayanthara's sari, gathering the fabric in his fists. With one swift motion, he pulled it upwards, exposing her bare thighs inch by tantalizing inch. Nayanthara lifted herself up slightly to allow him better access, her movements urgent and needy. The sari bunched around her waist, leaving her lower body exposed to Producer Sharma's hungry gaze.
Suddenly, Nayanthara pushed Producer Sharma off, causing him to fall back onto the bed with a surprised grunt. She stood up, her breath ragged, and looked down at him with a smoldering gaze. "My turn," she said, her voice husky with desire. Producer Sharma watched, mesmerized, as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
Her full, round breasts spilled free, her large brown nipples already hard and erect. Nayanthara placed a knee on either side of Producer Sharma's hips, straddling him once again. This time, there was no barrier between them; he could feel the heat of her pussy against his rock-hard cock, separated only by the thin fabric of his pants. She leaned forward, cupping her breasts in her hands and offering them to Producer Sharma.
As the night deepened and the air inside the bedroom thickened with unspoken tension, Nayanthara’s phone rang softly on the table. The screen lit up with a familiar name — Wikki. Her husband. Acclaimed director. The man who knew her better than anyone else… and yet, never completely. She moved away from the dim glow of the bedside lamp, the soft fabric of her saree catching the light like molten silver. Across the room, Producer Sharma’s gaze lingered — not on her face, but on the contours of her body, illuminated like a living sculpture. She picked up the phone, her voice low and intimate, barely breaking the charged silence. “Hmm… yes, love?” Wikki’s voice, warm and laced with quiet concern, crackled softly through the line.
“Nayanthara… has the shoot wrapped for the day? Are you coming home in the morning?”
A faint smile touched her lips. Her fingers, almost unconsciously, drifted to her collarbone — a familiar, soothing gesture — as she leaned against the wall, her body silhouetted in the half-light.
“I will… soon,” she whispered. “Just finishing up.”
As her voice softened into the phone, somewhere between affection and exhaustion, Producer Sharma remained still, watching. Calculating. He was a man who read silences like scripts — a master of timing, of movements made in shadows.
And now, with her attention drawn elsewhere, he sensed it — an opening.
He stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. Not just toward her… but toward something else. Something waiting.
The air shifted around them, growing thicker, warmer. Boundaries blurred — between roles, between intentions, between the woman on the phone and the man who dared to interrupt.
Producer Sharma moved closer, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. He could see Nayanthara's profile in the dim light, her back arched slightly as she talked to Wikki, her free hand absently playing with the necklace at her throat. Her skin glowed softly, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. The sight of her was intoxicating, and Producer Sharma felt a primal urge surging through him.
Nayanthara's breath caught in her throat as she felt Producer Sharma's presence behind her. She tried to focus on Wikki's voice, but the proximity of another man was overwhelming her senses. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the musk of his cologne. Suddenly, she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her against him. She gasped into the phone, "Wikki… I'll call you back."
Nayanthara hung up the phone, her heart beating faster as Producer Sharma spun her around to face him. His eyes burned into hers, filled with a hunger that matched her own. Without a word, he reached up and untied the knot at her waist, letting the saree fall to the floor in a pool of silk. She stood before him, naked except for her panties, her body trembling with anticipation.
Producer Sharma's hands shook slightly as he reached out to take Nayanthara's phone from her grasp. She yielded it without resistance, her eyes never leaving his. He tossed the device onto the bed, his focus entirely on the goddess standing before him. Nayantara's breath hitched as Producer Sharma stepped closer, invading her personal space with a boldness that sent thrills through her body.
Producer Sharma leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "You are exquisite, Nayanthara. Every curve, every line of your body is perfection." He let his fingers trail down her arm, eliciting goosebumps along her skin. "Your beauty leaves me speechless." His other hand rested on her hip, pulling her flush against him.
"Every moment of our time together has been a dream come true," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. "And tonight, I get to wake up in paradise." Nayanthara's breath hitched as Producer Sharma's words sent shivers down her spine. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, steady and strong. Her own heart pounded wildly, echoing the desire that coursed through her veins.
Nayanthara's hands moved to Producer Sharma's belt, swiftly undoing it and pushing his pants down. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking gently as she looked up at him. "Is this what you dreamed about?" she asked, her voice sultry. Producer Sharma groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she stroked him. "Yes," he rasped. "But the reality is so much better."
"Tell me," Nayanthara whispered, her hand still working Producer Sharma's cock. "What else did you dream about?" Producer Sharma took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto hers. "I imagined myself worshipping every inch of your body," he confessed. His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her wetness. "Making you moan my name as I tasted you here." He circled her clit, making her gasp. "Fucking you until you screamed my name."
The ringing of Nayanthara's phone shattered the intimate moment. It lay discarded on the bed, Wikki's name flashing across the screen. Producer Sharma froze, his hand still between Nayanthara's thighs, her arousal coating his fingers. Her breath hitched, torn between desire and duty. Producer Sharma withdrew his hand reluctantly, stepping back slightly. "Answer it," he said, his voice hoarse with restraint.
Nayanthara looked at the phone, then back at Producer Sharma. She bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eye. Instead of answering, she turned back to Producer Sharma and pushed him onto the bed. He landed with a thud, looking up at her in surprise. Nayanthara crawled onto the bed, straddling him, and leaned down to capture his lips in a fierce kiss.
Nayanthara broke the kiss, her lips curling into a wicked smile. She leaned down to whisper in Producer Sharma's ear, "I think we can make one of those dreams come true right now." With that, she began kissing her way down his body, lingering at his nipple to flick it with her tongue. Producer Sharma groaned, arching his back slightly.
Her kisses trailed lower, her tongue swirling around his belly button before continuing southwards. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His cock sprung free, standing at attention. Nayanthara smirked, looking up at Producer Sharma through her lashes. "Now, where were we?" she purred, wrapping her hand around his shaft and giving it a teasing stroke.
She lowered her head, her tongue darting out to taste the precum beading at his tip. Producer Sharma gasped, his hips jerking upward. Nayanthara took his cock fully into her mouth, her hand gripping the base tightly. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass. Her tongue swirled around his length, tasting every inch of him.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara increased the pressure, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. She sucked harder, creating a vacuum that pulled him deeper into her throat. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. Producer Sharma groaned loudly, his hands fisting the sheets as pleasure coursed through him. "Oh god, Nayanthara," he panted, his hips thrusting upwards involuntarily.
Nayanthara released his cock with a pop, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she saw the desperate look in Producer Sharma's eyes. She leaned in closer, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered, "Not so fast, my dear. I want to savor every moment." She nibbled gently on his earlobe, feeling him shudder beneath her. Her hand resumed its relentless pumping, slick with saliva and pre-cum.
Nayanthara trailed her fingers down Producer Sharma's chest, over his abdomen, and lower still. She brushed against his balls lightly, feeling their weight shift as they tightened with arousal. One finger slid further back, pressing gently against the sensitive spot between his balls and his hole. Producer Sharma gasped, his body tensing under her touch.
Nayanthara smiled at Producer Sharma's reaction, her finger continuing to apply gentle pressure. Then, without warning, she leaned down and ran her tongue lightly over his balls, causing him to jump slightly. She chuckled, her breath hot on his skin, before taking one of his balls into her mouth, suckling gently. Her finger pressed firmer against his perineum, massaging in slow, steady circles.
Producer Sharma's breath hitched as Nayanthara continued to explore his most sensitive areas, her touch both teasing and insistent. But suddenly, she paused, sitting back on her heels. With a playful glint in her eye, she pushed Producer Sharma off the bed, sending him tumbling onto the floor with a startled grunt. He looked up at her, confused and aroused. "Get up," she commanded, her voice husky with desire.
Producer Sharma quickly scrambled to his feet, his eyes never leaving Nayanthara's. She stood tall and commanding, her body bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. With deliberate slowness, she began to unbutton her blouse, revealing inch after inch of her smooth, golden skin.
Producer Sharma approached Nayanthara, his steps measured and controlled despite the raging storm within him. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her blouse as it fell open, revealing more of her luscious curves. She stood still, allowing him to explore, her breathing shallow and rapid. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her close, their bodies pressing together.
Nayanthara pushed Producer Sharma back onto the bed, climbing atop him. She straddled his hips, grinding her wet pussy against his rock-hard cock. She leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss as she rubbed herself against him, coating his length with her juices. Producer Sharma groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Nayanthara broke the kiss, her breath ragged. "Fuck me, Producer Sharma," she demanded.
The phone rang again, cutting through the charged atmosphere. Wikki's name flashed across the screen once more. Nayanthara hesitated for a moment, her eyes meeting Producer Sharma's. Then, with a defiant sparkle in her eye, she reached down and positioned Producer Sharma's cock at her entrance. "Make me scream your name," she whispered, sinking down onto him slowly.
The phone rang insistently, Wikki's name lighting up the screen with a sense of urgency. Nayanthara ignored it, her focus entirely on Producer Sharma buried inside her. She began to ride him, her hips rolling in slow, sensual circles as she adjusted to his size. Producer Sharma gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he watched her move above him. Their eyes locked, the connection intense and electric.
Nayanthara picked up the pace, riding Producer Sharma faster, her hips undulating with increasing urgency. The phone rang again, but she was lost in the rhythm of their bodies, chasing the pleasure that built with each thrust. Producer Sharma's hands gripped her waist, guiding her movements as he met her thrusts with his own. Their breaths mingled, harsh and ragged, filling the room with the sounds of their passion.
Nayanthara threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she began to moan loudly. "Oh fuck, Producer Sharma!" she cried out, her voice filled with raw desire. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mixing with her moans and Producer Sharma's grunts of pleasure. She rode him harder, faster, her nails digging into his chest as she chased her release. "Don't stop," she panted. "Please don't stop."
Producer Sharma's hands tightened on Nayanthara's hips, holding her steady as he slammed up into her. The sudden change in rhythm made her cry out, her body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Producer Sharma grunted, his teeth gritted as he drove himself deeper into her. "You feel so good," he growled, his voice strained with effort. He reached up, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her down to him roughly.
He stopped mid-thrust, leaving his cock buried deep inside her. "Kiss me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. Nayanthara leaned down, pressing her lips against his in a searing kiss. Producer Sharma devoured her mouth, his tongue exploring every inch as his hands gripped her ass cheeks tightly. After a few moments, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice barely recognizable.
Nayanthara began to move again, lifting her hips up and down, impaling herself on Producer Sharma's rigid member. They both groaned in pleasure as she found her rhythm. The phone continued to ring, persistent and loud. Producer Sharma glanced at it, his expression darkening. He reached over and grabbed the device, silencing the incessant noise. He tossed the phone aside, his focus returning to Nayanthara.
The door to the suite burst open, crashing against the wall with a bang. Nayanthara froze, her eyes wide with shock as she turned to see who had entered. Standing in the doorway was Financier Financiar Reddy, his face contorted with rage. His eyes flicked from Nayanthara to Producer Sharma and back again, taking in the scene before him. "How dare you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "How fucking dare you betray me like this."
Nayanthara's breath hitched as she looked from Producer Sharma to Financiar Reddy, panic rising in her chest. "Financiar Reddy…" she began, her voice shaking. She started to climb off Producer Sharma, but he held her tightly in place, his grip firm and unyielding. "Stay right there," he murmured, his eyes locked onto Financiar Reddy. "Let's finish what we started."
Producer Sharma's gaze shifted to meet Financiar Reddy's, his expression steely and determined. He refused to let go of Nayanthara, keeping her impaled on his cock as he sat up straighter, putting himself between her and Financiar Reddy. "This is none of your business," Producer Sharma said, his voice calm yet firm. "Whatever arrangement you two have, it doesn't give you any rights over her." Financiar Reddy's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.
Nayanthara, her mind racing with fear and confusion, gently extricated herself from Producer Sharma's grasp. She climbed off him, feeling the cold air hit her exposed flesh as she stood beside the bed. "Financiar Reddy," she said again, her voice pleading. "It's not what it looks like." Financiar Reddy scoffed, his eyes boring into hers. "Save your lies, Nayanthara," he snapped. "I know exactly what this is."
Nayanthara dropped to her knees, crawling towards Financiar Reddy on all fours. She could feel Producer Sharma's eyes on her, but her focus was solely on the man who held power over her career-and so much more. She reached Financiar Reddy, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Financiar Reddy, please," she whispered, placing her hands on his thighs. Slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against his.
Financiar Reddy's hands shot out, grabbing Nayanthara by the arms and yanking her to her feet. "Don't you dare try to seduce me after this," he snarled. His eyes flicked to Producer Sharma, still seated on the bed, his cock standing proudly. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I would just let you fuck her like some common whore?"
Financiar Reddy's hand flew out, connecting with Nayanthara's cheek in a sharp slap. The sound echoed through the room, and Nayanthara stumbled back, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Financiar Reddy in shock and pain. "How dare you speak to me like that," he sneered. "You belong to me, do you understand? You're mine."
Nayanthara, tears streaming down her face, reached out tentatively towards Financiar Reddy. Her small hand grasped his semi-hard cock through his pants, stroking it gently. "I'm sorry, Financiar Reddy," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Please forgive me. Please…" She looked up at him with pleading eyes, her hand working to bring him to full erection.
Financiar Reddy's breath hitched as Nayanthara sank to her knees before him, her hand already working on his belt. She freed his cock, stroking it gently as she looked up at him with those pleading eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth, sucking greedily. Financiar Reddy groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he held her head steady, forcing her to take him deeper.
Nayanthara's mouth worked tirelessly on Financiar Reddy's cock, her free hand reaching up to stroke his shaft in tandem with her eager suction. Her other hand gripped his thigh tightly, holding her balance as she bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass. Saliva dripped from her lips, coating his length as she sucked and licked fervently.
Financiar Reddy's grip on Nayanthara's hair tightened, his hips beginning to thrust in time with her movements. He groaned loudly, his control slipping as she sucked him off expertly. "That's it," he panted. "Take my cock, you slut." His words were harsher than usual, fueled by the anger still coursing through him. Suddenly, he pulled away from her, his cock popping out of her mouth with an audible smack.
Producer Sharma watched intently as Financiar Reddy pulled away from Nayanthara, his cock glistening with her saliva. He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the couple, waiting to see how things would unfold. Nayanthara looked up at Financiar Reddy, her expression a mix of submission and desperation. She knew better than to disobey him when he was like this.
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara begged, her voice trembling. "Please forgive me. I'll do anything." She reached for his cock again, but he stepped back, avoiding her touch. "Anything," she repeated, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. "Just tell me what you want."
Financiar Reddy looked down at Nayanthara, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at her kneeling form. Then, abruptly, he cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Lick my shoes," he commanded. Without hesitation, Nayanthara leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick the polished leather of Financiar Reddy's shoes. She could taste the dirt and dust from the day, but she didn't care.
Financiar Reddy pressed his foot down on Nayanthara's back, pushing her further onto the floor. "Clean them properly," he ordered, his voice cold. Nayanthara complied eagerly, her tongue swiping across every inch of his shoe. When she was done, he lifted his foot and placed it on her shoulder, nudging her until she lay flat on her back. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She did so immediately, exposing her glistening pussy to him.
Financiar Reddy stepped closer to Nayanthara, positioning himself between her spread thighs. He looked down at her, his expression a mixture of dominance and lust. "You want forgiveness?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg for it."
Financiar Reddy spat on Nayanthara, his saliva landing squarely on her exposed pussy. He rubbed his foot into her slit, smearing his spit around roughly. "Beg for it," he repeated, applying pressure to her clit with his heel. Nayanthara gasped, arching her back slightly. "Please, Financiar Reddy," she panted. "Forgive me. I need your cock. I need you to use me."
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara pleaded, her voice desperate. "Fuck me. Fuck me and punish me at the same time. Make me yours again. I'm so sorry for cheating on you."
Financiar Reddy pushed harder with his foot, grinding it into Nayanthara's pussy. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice cruel. "Do you want to be used like a cheap whore?" She nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath him. "Yes," she gasped. "Use me however you want. Just please, don't leave me."
Nayanthara spread her legs wider, opening herself completely to Financiar Reddy. "Look at me," she whispered. "See how wet I am for you." She slid two fingers into her pussy, showing him just how ready she was. "Fuck me like this," she begged. "Punish me with your cock."
Financiar Reddy smirked down at Nayanthara, enjoying the sight of her splayed out before him. He released his grip on her chin, allowing his hand to trail down her body instead. His fingers brushed lightly over her skin, tracing patterns as they moved lower and lower. He circled her breasts, teasing her erect nipples but never touching them directly.
His fingers dipped lower, dancing across her stomach and hips. He brushed ever so lightly against her thighs, moving closer and closer to her aching pussy. "Please," Nayanthara moaned loudly, bucking her hips upwards in a desperate attempt to get more friction. Financiar Reddy chuckled darkly, finally letting his fingertips graze her slick folds.
"Pathetic," Financiar Reddy muttered, circling her clit with his thumb. "You're so desperate for my cock." Nayanthara moaned again, her body writhing under his touch. He laughed darkly, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers while he continued to rub her clit mercilessly. "Tell me how much you need it," he demanded.
"I need your cock so bad, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara cried out. "I need you to fill me up and make me come." She arched her back, offering herself to him completely. Financiar Reddy smiled cruelly, removing his hand from her pussy and bringing it to her asshole. He pushed a finger in slowly, eliciting a gasp from Nayanthara. "That's right," he taunted. "Be a good girl and take my finger in your tight ass."
Financiar Reddy withdrew his finger from Nayanthara's asshole suddenly, causing her to whimper in protest. He raised his hand and brought it down sharply against her cheek, the sound echoing through the room. "You don't deserve to come," he sneered. "Not after what you've done." He slapped her again, harder this time, leaving a red mark on her skin.
Financiar Reddy's hand connected with Nayanthara's breast, the force sending ripples through her flesh. "Who do you belong to?" he growled, slapping her other breast. She cried out, her back arching off the floor. "You!" she screamed. "I belong to you, Financiar Reddy! Only you!" He slapped her breasts again, harder this time, leaving angry red marks on her dark skin.
"Mercy, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara sobbed, covering her breasts with her hands. "Please have mercy on me." She curled into a fetal position, her body shaking with sobs. "I can't take anymore. Please forgive me."
Producer Sharma watched silently from the bed, his own cock throbbing with arousal as Financiar Reddy tormented Nayanthara. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving the couple. Nayanthara's tears and pleas only seemed to fuel Financiar Reddy's cruelty, making Producer Sharma wonder if there was something more going on between them than just a simple business arrangement.
Financiar Reddy paused, looking down at Nayanthara's cowering form. Her body shook with sobs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. He took a step back, his chest heaving as he regained control of his emotions. After a moment, he extended his hand to her. "Get up," he said gruffly. Nayanthara hesitated before taking his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Financiar Reddy wiped the tears from her cheeks, his expression softening slightly.
Financiar Reddy pulled Nayanthara close, crushing her body against his. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips with the ferocity of his mouth on hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she surrendered completely to his embrace. Their tongues clashed together, their breaths mingling as they devoured one another.
Financiar Reddy broke the kiss, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. He grabbed Nayanthara by the hair and turned her around, bending her over the edge of the bed. He positioned himself behind her, his cock poised at her entrance. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled. "To be used like a slut?" With that, he slammed into her, filling her completely in one brutal thrust.
Producer Sharma's hand moved faster along his shaft as he watched Financiar Reddy take Nayanthara from behind. He could hear the wet sounds of their coupling, could see the way her body jolted with each punishing thrust. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his own orgasm as he stroked himself in time with Financiar Reddy's movements.
As Producer Sharma jerked off, his eyes narrowed with jealousy as he watched Financiar Reddy dominate Nayanthara. He had been hoping to be the one to punish her for their infidelity, and seeing Financiar Reddy take that role grated on him deeply. The producer's grip tightened around his cock, his strokes becoming more urgent as he imagined being the one to claim Nayanthara's body. He could feel his climax building, but he refused to give in yet.
"Please, Financiar Reddy," Nayanthara panted, glancing back at Producer Sharma. "Let him join us. Let him suck his cock while you fuck me." Financiar Reddy followed her gaze, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he looked at Producer Sharma. "You heard her," he said. "Come here."
Producer Sharma climbed off the bed, his cock standing proud and leaking pre-cum. He approached Nayanthara and Financiar Reddy, his eyes locked on the beautiful actress bent over before him. "Open your mouth," Producer Sharma commanded, his voice husky with desire. Nayanthara obeyed instantly, her lips parting to reveal her pink tongue.
Producer Sharma grabbed Nayanthara by the hair, pulling her head back sharply. He forced his cock into her mouth, not caring about her comfort or consent. "Suck it," he grunted, using her hair to control her movements. Tears streamed down her face as she gagged on his length, but Financiar Reddy showed no mercy, continuing to pound into her from behind.
Financiar Reddy leaned down, his breath hot on Nayanthara's ear. "Such a dirty slut," he whispered harshly. "Taking both our cocks at once." He reached around, squeezing her throat as he continued to slam into her. "Choke on his cum like a good whore."
Nayanthara moaned louder around Producer Sharma's cock, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through his body. She relaxed her throat, taking him deeper as she matched his brutal pace. Financiar Reddy groaned, feeling her pussy clamp down around his shaft as she succumbed to their shared cruelty. "That's it," he growled. "Show us what a dirty slut you really are."
Producer Sharma pulled his cock from Nayanthara's mouth, saliva stretching between them. He spat on her face, watching as his spit dripped down her cheek. "You're such a filthy bitch," he sneered. "Loving every minute of this, aren't you?"
"Stop!" Nayanthara cried out in pain as Producer Sharma's spit hit her eye. "It burns! It burns!" Financiar Reddy cursed under his breath, pulling out of her and stepping back. "What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, turning to face Producer Sharma. Before Producer Sharma could respond, Nayanthara scrambled off the bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it tightly. "Nayanthara!" Financiar Reddy shouted, pounding on the door.
After a few moments, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Nayanthara's naked form. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her mascara had run down her cheeks. She stood there silently, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me."
Financiar Reddy stepped aside, allowing Producer Sharma access to Nayanthara. "Clean her up," he commanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Producer Sharma hesitated for a moment before entering the bathroom. He wetted a washcloth with warm water and gently began wiping away the remnants of Nayanthara's makeup. She winced as the cloth touched her sensitive skin, but she didn't pull away. Once her face was clean, Producer Sharma held her gaze in the mirror.
Producer Sharma cupped Nayanthara's cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. "Better?" he asked quietly. She nodded, opening her eyes to look at him. "Thank you," she murmured. Producer Sharma studied her reflection, taking in the sight of her naked body. He trailed his fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, and between her breasts.
Nayanthara blushed deeply under Producer Sharma's touch, her cheeks flushing a dark crimson. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "Please," she whispered. "Don't stop." Producer Sharma smirked, running his hand down her flat stomach and further still. He cupped her mound, his fingers brushing against her damp curls. "So eager," he murmured, slipping one finger between her folds.
Financiar Reddy grabbed Nayanthara by the arm, pulling her away from Producer Sharma. "Sit," he ordered, pushing her down onto the closed toilet lid. She yelped in surprise, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He held her gaze, his expression stern. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She obeyed without hesitation, opening herself to him completely. Financiar Reddy smirked, turning to Producer Sharma. "Your turn."
Producer Sharma stepped forward, his lips crashing onto Nayanthara's. She moaned into his mouth, her arms snaking around his neck as she pulled him closer. Financiar Reddy watched them for a moment before dropping to his knees in front of Nayanthara. He grabbed her thighs roughly, spreading them even wider apart.
He broke the kiss, pushing Producer Sharma towards Nayanthara's waiting pussy. He positioned himself behind Nayanthara, grabbing her hair and forcing her head back as Producer Sharma got on his knees. Producer Sharma licked his lips as he looked at Nayanthara's glistening folds, ready to feast on her delicious nectar. He lowered his head and ran his tongue up her slit, eliciting a loud moan from Nayanthara.
Financiar Reddy tightened his grip on Nayanthara's hair, forcing her to arch her back. "You will listen to us," he growled. "And you will do everything we say." Nayanthara gasped, nodding her agreement as best she could with Financiar Reddy holding her so tightly. "Yes, sir," she breathed. Producer Sharma looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust and hunger. "Good girl," he murmured before diving back into her pussy, sucking her clit into his mouth.
Financiar Reddy released Nayanthara's hair and stood up, his cock bobbing obscenely in front of her face. "Open your mouth," he commanded. She complied immediately, her jaw dropping open as she looked up at him eagerly. Financiar Reddy grabbed her chin, tilting her head back further as he slid his cock into her mouth. He thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried balls-deep in her throat.
Nayanthara gagged around Financiar Reddy's thick cock, her eyes watering as he held her head steady. "Breathe through your nose," he instructed coldly. "You can take all of me." He began to move his hips, sliding his cock in and out of her throat brutally. Saliva dripped down her chin as she struggled to breathe, her nails digging into Producer Sharma's scalp where he continued to devour her pussy.
Producer Sharma pulled away from Nayanthara's pussy, standing up and pressing his body against hers. He rubbed his cock against her slippery folds, teasing her entrance. "Is this what you want?" he whispered in her ear. "To be taken by both of us at the same time?" She moaned, nodding eagerly. Financiar Reddy pulled his cock from her throat, letting her gasp for air as Producer Sharma lined himself up with her dripping hole.
"Fuck me," Nayanthara begged, writhing between the two men. "Please, I need both of you inside me." Producer Sharma didn't waste any time, thrusting into her pussy in one smooth motion. She cried out, her body stretching to accommodate his girth. Behind her, Financiar Reddy spat on his hand and rubbed it over her tight little star, preparing her for his invasion.
Financiar Reddy massaged Nayanthara's ass cheeks roughly, his fingertips circling her puckered hole. He pressed firmly against the tight ring of muscle, feeling it give slightly beneath his touch. "Relax," he murmured, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. "Let me in."
Financiar Reddy slapped Nayanthara's ass hard, leaving a bright red handprint on her pale skin. She yelped, her body jerking forward against Producer Sharma. "Did I tell you to relax?" Financiar Reddy growled, rubbing the sore spot gently. "No, sir," she whispered. "Now push out for me."
Nayanthara pushed out obediently, feeling her asshole loosen slightly. Financiar Reddy wasted no time, pressing the tip of his cock against her tight bud. "More," she pleaded, wriggling back against him. "Give me more." He grabbed her hips, holding her still as he began to push into her. She gasped, her body resisting the intrusion as he stretched her open.
"Look at me," Producer Sharma whispered, tipping Nayanthara's chin up to meet his gaze. His hips moved slowly, drawing out of her pussy before sliding back in. "You're taking both our cocks so well." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "But I want you to do something for me." Nayanthara moaned softly, her eyes glazed with lust. "Anything," she breathed. Producer Sharma smiled darkly.
Financiar Reddy brought his hand down sharply on Nayanthara's other cheek, leaving another red mark on her flesh. "You'll do anything we say," he reminded her, still slowly working his cock into her ass. "Won't you?" She nodded quickly, her breath coming in short pants. "Yes, sir. Yes, I will." Producer Sharma leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then show us how much you love being our slut," he murmured. "Cum for us."
Financiar Reddy pulled out of Nayanthara abruptly, causing her to cry out in protest. Producer Sharma stood up, his cock slick with her juices. "Turn around," he commanded, helping her stand on shaking legs. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with desire and confusion. He pushed her down onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her. "Arch your back," he instructed, running his hands over her sweat-slick skin.
Financiar Reddy smacked Nayanthara's ass cheek, making her jump. "Keep those tits off the floor," he ordered. She propped herself up on her elbows, her breasts swaying heavily beneath her. Producer Sharma positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slippery folds. "Ready for round two?" he teased.
"Please," Nayanthara pleaded, looking back at Producer Sharma over her shoulder. "Fuck my pussy harder. Fuck me like the slut I am." Producer Sharma smirked, gripping her hips tightly as he slammed into her. She screamed in pleasure, her body jolting forward with each forceful thrust. Financiar Reddy knelt in front of her, his cock level with her face. "Suck it," he commanded, tapping her cheek with his length.
She opened her mouth obediently, taking Financiar Reddy's cock between her lips. He grabbed her hair, using it to hold her head in place as he began to face-fuck her roughly. Producer Sharma pulled out of Nayanthara's pussy, his cock glistening with her juices. He pressed the tip against her tight asshole, pushing into her slowly. She moaned around Financiar Reddy's cock, her body tensing as Producer Sharma stretched her open.
Financiar Reddy pulled his cock from Nayanthara's mouth, leaving her gasping for breath. "I want to hear you scream," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Producer Sharma withdrew from her ass, giving Financiar Reddy room to take his place. Nayanthara braced herself, knowing what was coming. Financiar Reddy lined up his cock with her gaping hole, spitting on it generously before pushing in.
Financiar Reddy thrust into Nayanthara's ass hard, not bothering to go slow. She screamed loudly, her body convulsing as he impaled her on his thick cock. He grunted in satisfaction, grabbing her hips tightly as he began to pound into her relentlessly. Producer Sharma stood in front of her, stroking his cock slowly as he watched the brutal display unfold.
Producer Sharma moved closer, guiding his cock back into Nayanthara's pussy. She moaned loudly, the sensation of being filled in both holes overwhelming her senses. Financiar Reddy and Producer Sharma established a rhythm, taking turns thrusting into her while the other held still. The room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans, along with the wet slapping noise of flesh meeting flesh. "Fuck," Producer Sharma groaned, his hips moving faster.
Producer Sharma grabbed Nayanthara's hips, halting Financiar Reddy's movements. "My turn," he growled, taking full control. He set a punishing pace, hammering into her pussy while Financiar Reddy remained buried in her ass. Nayanthara screamed incoherently, her body rocked back and forth between the two powerful men. She felt her orgasm building rapidly, her inner muscles clenching tightly around Producer Sharma's cock.
"Fuck my ass," Nayanthara begged, looking back at Financiar Reddy desperately. "Please, sir, fuck my ass while he fucks my cunt." Financiar Reddy needed no further encouragement, grabbing her hips tightly as he began to piston in and out of her tight channel. Their combined efforts drove Nayanthara wild, her body writhing between them as they took their pleasure from her.
Financiar Reddy pulled out of Nayanthara's ass, leaving her whimpering at the sudden emptiness. He spat on her exposed hole, watching as his saliva dripped down her crack. He gathered more saliva in his mouth, spitting on her ass again before rubbing it in with his thumb.
Nayanthara panted heavily, her body trembling with need. "More," she begged, glancing back at Financiar Reddy over her shoulder. "Please, sir, give me more cock." Financiar Reddy smirked, lining his cock up with her well-lubricated asshole. He pushed into her slowly, groaning as her tight channel gripped him like a vice. Producer Sharma picked up the pace, slamming into Nayanthara's pussy with abandon.
Nayanthara's body shook violently between the two men, their cocks filling her completely. Tears streamed down her face, but they were not tears of pain. They were tears of pure, unadulterated joy. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. She had never felt so full, so used, so utterly owned. "Oh god," she sobbed, her body convulsing wildly. "It feels so good. So fucking good."
Nayanthara's moans filled the room, loud and uninhibited. "Mmmm… oh yes…" She writhed between the two men, her body slick with sweat. Producer Sharma reached around, pinching her nipples sharply, rolling them between his fingers. Financiar Reddy smacked her ass hard, leaving a bright red mark on her skin. "Louder," he demanded. "Let us hear that pretty mouth of yours."
Producer Sharma increased his pace, pounding into Nayanthara's pussy fiercely. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mingling with her loud moans. "That's it," Producer Sharma grunted. "Scream for us." He reached under her, finding her clit with his fingers and rubbing it roughly. "Cum for us, you dirty slut." Nayanthara threw her head back, screaming loudly as her orgasm crashed over her.
"Please," Nayanthara begged, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Let me taste your cum." She turned pleading eyes to Producer Sharma first, then to Financiar Reddy. "I want to suck your cocks clean." Financiar Reddy pulled out of her ass immediately, his cock throbbing and wet. He stood in front of her, fisting his shaft as he smeared pre-cum across her cheek. "Lick it off," he commanded.
Nayanthara stuck out her tongue, eager to obey. She swiped it across Financiar Reddy's cheek, tasting the mixture of his precum and her own ass juice. He grunted in approval, stepping closer so she could take him fully into her mouth. Meanwhile, Producer Sharma withdrew from her pussy, moving to stand beside Financiar Reddy. Nayanthara reached for his cock, wrapping her fingers around the base as she began to suck Financiar Reddy enthusiastically.
Nayanthara took Producer Sharma's cock into her mouth, swallowing him down greedily. She relaxed her throat, taking him all the way in until her nose touched his pelvis. She held him there for a moment, her eyes watering, before pulling back off with a gasp. "Fuck," Financiar Reddy groaned, his hips bucking as Nayanthara bobbed her head up and down his shaft.
Financiar Reddy tangled his fingers in Nayanthara's hair, holding her head still as he fucked her mouth. "I'm going to cum," he grunted, his hips moving faster. "Take it. Take all my cum." He came with a roar, shooting rope after rope of hot seed down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, moaning around his cock as she drank him down. When he finally pulled out, she gasped for breath, his cum dripping from her chin.
Producer Sharma tugged at Nayanthara's hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Your turn," he said, his voice rough with lust. She opened her mouth obediently, sticking out her tongue as she waited for him to feed her his cock. He slid into her waiting maw, groaning at the sight of her swollen lips wrapped around his shaft. He began to move his hips, fucking her mouth slowly as he built towards his climax.
Nayanthara released Producer Sharma's cock with a pop, turning her attention to Financiar Reddy. She kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of their combined cum with him. He growled into her mouth, his hands gripping her hair tightly as he devoured her. Behind her, Producer Sharma began to thrust into her mouth once more, his grip on her hair matching Financiar Reddy's intensity.
Producer Sharma smiled down at Nayanthara, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're such a good slut," he praised, his voice husky with lust. He slowed his thrusts, savoring the feel of her hot mouth on his cock. With her free hand, she reached out and stroked Financiar Reddy's half-hard cock, already eager for more.
Producer Sharma chuckled, his smile turning wicked. "You can't get enough, can you?" he asked, even as he quickened his pace, fucking her mouth in earnest now. He held her head still, using her oral cavity for his own pleasure. Saliva dripped down her chin as he slid his cock in and out of her willing mouth. Beside them, Financiar Reddy's cock stirred back to life, hardening rapidly under Nayanthara's skillful touch.
Producer Sharma's grip tightened in Nayantara's hair as he neared his peak. "I'm going to fill your mouth with my cum," he warned, his voice strained with effort. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, begging him silently to use her for his pleasure. With a final grunt, he erupted, pumping jet after jet of hot semen onto her tongue. She swallowed reflexively, trying to keep up with the deluge.
Double Teamed Nayanthara swallowed eagerly, her mouth filling with Producer Sharma's warm seed. She sucked him dry, milking his cock until he pulled away gently. Cum dribbled down her chin, mixing with the saliva and precum that coated her face. Financiar Reddy watched her intently, his cock rock hard once more. He reached down, wiping the mess from her face with his thumb before sucking it clean.
Nayanthara smiled up at Financiar Reddy, her eyes shining brightly. "Thank you, sir," she purred, leaning into his touch. She licked her lips seductively, still tasting the combined flavors of both men. "What would you like to do with me next?" Producer Sharma chuckled, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "She's insatiable," he remarked, looking at Financiar Reddy. "We created a sex monster!"
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