Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

Madhuri’s cheeks burned, shame surging through her as she stood under their gazes. The designer turned to her, his tone professional but probing. “May I take your measurements, ma’am?”

She hesitated, her heart racing, “Is this necessary? I already know my sizes,” she said, her voice unsteady, trying to deflect.

The designer smiled reassuringly. “Our measurements are non-standard, ma’am, but they ensure a perfect fit.”

Madhuri hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes, but she relented. “O-Okay,” she murmured, barely audible, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Outside, Abhi reached the boutique’s corner, only to be stopped by a stern security guard. “My mom’s inside,” he protested, his voice tight with frustration.

“Sorry, kid, This is no place for children,” the guard replied, unmoved. 

“I’m not a kid. Stop calling me that,” Abhi muffled and slumped onto a nearby bench, fuming, clutching the bags and waiting for them to come out.

Inside, the designer began measuring Madhuri’s bust, his tape measure “accidentally” slipping. Ishaan, watching closely, stepped forward, his voice firm. 

Ishaan : “Let me hold it. You note it down.”

Madhuri raised her arms, her breath catching as Ishaan wrapped the tape around her chest, his fingers deliberately pressing through her churidar, grazing her nipples, which hardened under the touch.

The designer jotted down the measurement, unfazed. “Now under the breasts,” he instructed. Ishaan slid the tape lower, and tightened, his touch bold, eyes locked on hers.

“And her breasts, over the nipples, like this.” he said, Ishaan's fingers brushing her again, unapologetic.

He continued, measuring from her shoulder, neck down to her navel, his movements precise but charged. The designer nodded.

“Now the hip size.” Ishaan circled the tape around her, dragging it slowly over her body, lingering where her curves protruded most, his fingers grazing her ass. 

As soon as the designer noted it down, Madhuri exhaled in relief, thinking it was over. “Thank G0d,” she muttered.

The designer glanced up. “A few more measurements, ma’am. Please lift your churidar.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why?” she asked, voice trembling.

“Just a couple more for... accuracy,” he replied calmly, though his eyes flickered with something else. Madhuri’s heart raced, caught between embarrassment and the electric pull of Ishaan’s presence.