28-09-2025, 06:19 PM
All night Kinza was restless. Her mind wouldn’t stop circling the same fear what would he do with those photos? Would he post them on social media? Would he blackmail her openly? He had said he wouldn’t post them… but only if she did something for him.Stupid,” she cursed herself, burying her face in her pillow. She should have covered her face better that night. At least then no one could have recognized her.
The next day she couldn’t bring herself to go to the office. She stayed in her room, telling her mother she was feeling unwell. Even the following morning she wanted to avoid work… until a text arrived from Vikram:
Vikram: “Get to the office, Kinza. I missed you so much…”
It wasn’t direct blackmail, but the unspoken threat lay heavy. If she ignored him, who knew what he might do? Reluctantly, she dressed and left for the studio.
The whole day her nerves were on edge, waiting for Vikram’s move some taunt, some humiliation, some trap. But nothing happened. Strangely, he wasn’t even in the office.When she returned home, relief washed over her. But late that night, around 10:30, just after dinner, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number:
Unknown: “Hope you had a good day, Kinza. By the way, what were you wearing today?”
Her heart sank. She knew exactly who it washe was using a different number.
Kinza: “It’s none of your business. Don’t disturb me.”
Vikram: “There’s my feisty girl. In the morning you didn’t text back, but you still followed my order. I liked that.”
Kinza: “I am not your girl. I went to the office because I work there.”
Vikram: “But you didn’t answer my question. What were you wearing at the office?”
Kinza: “That’s none of your business, you bastard.”
Vikram: “I just wanted to know how beautiful you looked today, since I missed it. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you dressed like this…”
A photo appeared. Her breath caught her in his car, scarf slipping, chest half-exposed as she tried to cover herself. The image looked obscene, like a scene from a porn movie.
Her hand trembled as she typed:
Kinza: “Why are you doing this? Please… delete it.”
Vikram: “I told you, you have nothing to fear. But you’re such a brat. I asked you a simple question, and you refused. So tell me what were you wearing today?”
Kinza: “…Black top. Baggy jeans.”
Vikram: “I think you’re forgetting something.”
Kinza racked her brain, then typed hesitantly:
Kinza: “…Black hi*ab.”
Vikram: “Perfect. You looked so good in veil. So beautiful. So modest.”
Kinza knew he was mocking her. Taunting the very thing she wore to protect herself. But what could she do?
Vikram: “Perfect… you look so good in veil. So beautiful. So modest. My girl. My modest girl.”
Kinaza’s stomach knotted, bile rising in her throat. Her trembling fingers flew across the keyboard.
Kinza: “Stop calling me that. I am not yours. Delete that photo right now.”
Her phone lit up again.
Vikram: “Why don’t you take a selfie now and send me…”
Her throat tightened.
Kinza: “Why are you doing this? You know I can’t…”
Vikram: “I just want to look at your pretty face.”
Her pulse hammered.
Kinza: “Please… don’t do this.”
Vikram: “I’m just asking for a pic. Is that too much?”
Her hand shook. With no other way out, she angled the phone, clicked a quick selfie, and sent it her face pale, lips pressed tight.
A second later his reply came.
Vikram: “So pretty… it makes my day looking at your face.”
Vikram: “Tell me, what are you doing now?”
Kinza: “In the drawing room… watching TV. Just had dinner.”
Vikram: “Are you alone?”
Kinza: “No… Ammi, Abbu, and Bhai are also here.”
Vikram: “Go back to your room. Send me a proper pic. Without your top.”
Her heart nearly stopped. Her hand trembled on the screen.
Kinza: “Vikram, don’t make me do this. Why are you doing this… you know I can’t.”
Vikram: “You can, baby girl. That night I couldn’t see your fat tits up close. Even the pics in my phone aren’t clear. Send me.”
Tears pricked her eyes.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram. I’ll do anything your assignments, all your work, if u need money. Just don’t make me do this…
Vikram: “I don’t want to work or money. I just want to see your boobies, Kinza. They were juicy.”
His filthy words slid through her veins like poison. Heat spread in her chest, a shameful tingle lower down.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram… I can’t.”
Her phone buzzed. Another photo. This one worse—her in his car, scarf fallen, tits bare, like she was posing for him.
Vikram: “Should I send this to your young brother? Or maybe to your father? Let them see how modest their girl is.”
Her vision blurred with panic.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram…”
Vikram: “Ten minutes. Send them. And don't lose that h"jab of yours"
Her body felt hollow as she rose from the sofa, legs unsteady beneath her. Heart pounding, she crept down the corridor, every step echoing like guilt, until she reached her room. She slipped inside, turned the lock with trembling fingers, and pressed her back to the door, chest heaving.Her hands wouldn’t stay still. The phone burned hot in her grip as if Vikram’s gaze was already inside the room with her. Slowly, shame crawling up her neck, she tugged her top upward. Her soft brown skin came into view, goosebumps rising. Then the weight of her tits spilled free round, heavy, nipples stiff from the cold air and the terror mixing inside her.Her breath hitched. She angled the phone carefully, cropping her face just above the nose, so only her trembling lips and the obscene swell of her bare chest showed on screen.For a moment she froze, shame burning her eyes. Then click. The shutter sounded like a gunshot in the silence.[img]<a href=[/img]![[Image: IMG-20250928-173313.png]](https://i.ibb.co/XfqK9sZS/IMG-20250928-173313.png)
" />
Her finger hovered, then she sent it.
His reply was instant.
Vikram: “Nice… look at those juicy melons. So full.”
Even through disgust, the crude words sparked a forbidden shiver through her body. Wet heat gathered between her thighs.
Vikram: “This will do for now. But next time, I want the full face.”
A shiver ran through her bones.
Vikram: “Don’t miss office tomorrow.”
The screen went dark, leaving her alone in her locked room, her heart hammering, shame and heat tangled in her chest.
The next day, Kinza hesitantly stepped into the office. Her scarf was pinned tighter than usual, her steps slow, as if every eye might pierce through her.
The hours dragged. Vikram was there, but he barely bothered her just a few smirks, a glance that lingered too long. Nothing more. It left her even more on edge, waiting for the axe to fall.
Around lunch, the office thinned out. Most had gone out, leaving only a handful behind. As Kinza sat at her desk, nibbling at food she couldn’t taste, she caught Vikram’s voice from a corner where he was chatting with Rahul.Though they were talking slow ,Vikram voice was loud enough for her to hear.
Vikram (: “Dude, I’m seeing this girl. God, what a maal she is…”
Her stomach flipped.
Rahul: “Really?”
Vikram: “Yeah, man. Met her just a couple of days back. Thought she was this tight, modest type. But within two days she’s sending me her nudes. And bro, she’s got the most suckable jugs… fattest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Kinza froze, fork slipping in her hand. Her thighs pressed together under the table as shame burned through her and with it, a traitorous wet heat.
Rahul: “You lucky dog!”
Vikram: “Lucky? Nah, man. In a few days my mouth will be buried in those fat tits. Just wait.”
The words hit her like sparks, crude and humiliating, yet her body betrayed herher breath shallow, a pulse throbbing where it shouldn’t.
Rahul: “Show me, man. Show me the pics.”
Her heart stopped. She clutched her scarf tighter, terrified.
Vikram : “Can’t, dude. Too risky. But trust me… they’re juicy as hell.”
Relief washed over her at least he wasn’t flaunting the pictures. But the smirk he shot her way as he walked back to his cabin made her stomach twist. He knew she had heard every word. He wanted her to.Kinza lowered her eyes, hands shaking. She already knew what the night would bring. Vikram’s silence at the office was only the calm before another storm on her phone.
The next day she couldn’t bring herself to go to the office. She stayed in her room, telling her mother she was feeling unwell. Even the following morning she wanted to avoid work… until a text arrived from Vikram:
Vikram: “Get to the office, Kinza. I missed you so much…”
It wasn’t direct blackmail, but the unspoken threat lay heavy. If she ignored him, who knew what he might do? Reluctantly, she dressed and left for the studio.
The whole day her nerves were on edge, waiting for Vikram’s move some taunt, some humiliation, some trap. But nothing happened. Strangely, he wasn’t even in the office.When she returned home, relief washed over her. But late that night, around 10:30, just after dinner, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number:
Unknown: “Hope you had a good day, Kinza. By the way, what were you wearing today?”
Her heart sank. She knew exactly who it washe was using a different number.
Kinza: “It’s none of your business. Don’t disturb me.”
Vikram: “There’s my feisty girl. In the morning you didn’t text back, but you still followed my order. I liked that.”
Kinza: “I am not your girl. I went to the office because I work there.”
Vikram: “But you didn’t answer my question. What were you wearing at the office?”
Kinza: “That’s none of your business, you bastard.”
Vikram: “I just wanted to know how beautiful you looked today, since I missed it. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you dressed like this…”
A photo appeared. Her breath caught her in his car, scarf slipping, chest half-exposed as she tried to cover herself. The image looked obscene, like a scene from a porn movie.
Her hand trembled as she typed:
Kinza: “Why are you doing this? Please… delete it.”
Vikram: “I told you, you have nothing to fear. But you’re such a brat. I asked you a simple question, and you refused. So tell me what were you wearing today?”
Kinza: “…Black top. Baggy jeans.”
Vikram: “I think you’re forgetting something.”
Kinza racked her brain, then typed hesitantly:
Kinza: “…Black hi*ab.”
Vikram: “Perfect. You looked so good in veil. So beautiful. So modest.”
Kinza knew he was mocking her. Taunting the very thing she wore to protect herself. But what could she do?
Vikram: “Perfect… you look so good in veil. So beautiful. So modest. My girl. My modest girl.”
Kinaza’s stomach knotted, bile rising in her throat. Her trembling fingers flew across the keyboard.
Kinza: “Stop calling me that. I am not yours. Delete that photo right now.”
Her phone lit up again.
Vikram: “Why don’t you take a selfie now and send me…”
Her throat tightened.
Kinza: “Why are you doing this? You know I can’t…”
Vikram: “I just want to look at your pretty face.”
Her pulse hammered.
Kinza: “Please… don’t do this.”
Vikram: “I’m just asking for a pic. Is that too much?”
Her hand shook. With no other way out, she angled the phone, clicked a quick selfie, and sent it her face pale, lips pressed tight.
A second later his reply came.
Vikram: “So pretty… it makes my day looking at your face.”
Vikram: “Tell me, what are you doing now?”
Kinza: “In the drawing room… watching TV. Just had dinner.”
Vikram: “Are you alone?”
Kinza: “No… Ammi, Abbu, and Bhai are also here.”
Vikram: “Go back to your room. Send me a proper pic. Without your top.”
Her heart nearly stopped. Her hand trembled on the screen.
Kinza: “Vikram, don’t make me do this. Why are you doing this… you know I can’t.”
Vikram: “You can, baby girl. That night I couldn’t see your fat tits up close. Even the pics in my phone aren’t clear. Send me.”
Tears pricked her eyes.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram. I’ll do anything your assignments, all your work, if u need money. Just don’t make me do this…
Vikram: “I don’t want to work or money. I just want to see your boobies, Kinza. They were juicy.”
His filthy words slid through her veins like poison. Heat spread in her chest, a shameful tingle lower down.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram… I can’t.”
Her phone buzzed. Another photo. This one worse—her in his car, scarf fallen, tits bare, like she was posing for him.
Vikram: “Should I send this to your young brother? Or maybe to your father? Let them see how modest their girl is.”
Her vision blurred with panic.
Kinza: “Please, Vikram…”
Vikram: “Ten minutes. Send them. And don't lose that h"jab of yours"
Her body felt hollow as she rose from the sofa, legs unsteady beneath her. Heart pounding, she crept down the corridor, every step echoing like guilt, until she reached her room. She slipped inside, turned the lock with trembling fingers, and pressed her back to the door, chest heaving.Her hands wouldn’t stay still. The phone burned hot in her grip as if Vikram’s gaze was already inside the room with her. Slowly, shame crawling up her neck, she tugged her top upward. Her soft brown skin came into view, goosebumps rising. Then the weight of her tits spilled free round, heavy, nipples stiff from the cold air and the terror mixing inside her.Her breath hitched. She angled the phone carefully, cropping her face just above the nose, so only her trembling lips and the obscene swell of her bare chest showed on screen.For a moment she froze, shame burning her eyes. Then click. The shutter sounded like a gunshot in the silence.[img]<a href=[/img]
" />Her finger hovered, then she sent it.
His reply was instant.
Vikram: “Nice… look at those juicy melons. So full.”
Even through disgust, the crude words sparked a forbidden shiver through her body. Wet heat gathered between her thighs.
Vikram: “This will do for now. But next time, I want the full face.”
A shiver ran through her bones.
Vikram: “Don’t miss office tomorrow.”
The screen went dark, leaving her alone in her locked room, her heart hammering, shame and heat tangled in her chest.
The next day, Kinza hesitantly stepped into the office. Her scarf was pinned tighter than usual, her steps slow, as if every eye might pierce through her.
The hours dragged. Vikram was there, but he barely bothered her just a few smirks, a glance that lingered too long. Nothing more. It left her even more on edge, waiting for the axe to fall.
Around lunch, the office thinned out. Most had gone out, leaving only a handful behind. As Kinza sat at her desk, nibbling at food she couldn’t taste, she caught Vikram’s voice from a corner where he was chatting with Rahul.Though they were talking slow ,Vikram voice was loud enough for her to hear.
Vikram (: “Dude, I’m seeing this girl. God, what a maal she is…”
Her stomach flipped.
Rahul: “Really?”
Vikram: “Yeah, man. Met her just a couple of days back. Thought she was this tight, modest type. But within two days she’s sending me her nudes. And bro, she’s got the most suckable jugs… fattest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Kinza froze, fork slipping in her hand. Her thighs pressed together under the table as shame burned through her and with it, a traitorous wet heat.
Rahul: “You lucky dog!”
Vikram: “Lucky? Nah, man. In a few days my mouth will be buried in those fat tits. Just wait.”
The words hit her like sparks, crude and humiliating, yet her body betrayed herher breath shallow, a pulse throbbing where it shouldn’t.
Rahul: “Show me, man. Show me the pics.”
Her heart stopped. She clutched her scarf tighter, terrified.
Vikram : “Can’t, dude. Too risky. But trust me… they’re juicy as hell.”
Relief washed over her at least he wasn’t flaunting the pictures. But the smirk he shot her way as he walked back to his cabin made her stomach twist. He knew she had heard every word. He wanted her to.Kinza lowered her eyes, hands shaking. She already knew what the night would bring. Vikram’s silence at the office was only the calm before another storm on her phone.
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