Adultery Beneath Modesty

[Zoz34]

The whole evening dragged like a slow punishment. From the moment she left the office until dinner, Kinza kept glancing at her phone, heart skipping at every buzz. She knew he would harass her somehow Vikram never left her alone for long.
In the office he had boasted shamelessly, bragging about seeing her boobs. He hadn’t named her, hadn’t exposed her but the arrogant prick had planted his filth like poison in her ears. His words still rang inside her head, Rahul’s laughter echoing after them:
“In a few days my mouth will be buried between her breasts.”
A chill crept down her spine every time she remembered it. She hated him. She hated the heat those words stirred in her despite everything.
By 10:30 pm, still no message. She retreated to her room, phone in hand, trying to distract herself with endless scrolling. Her thumb hovered over the Reddit app. The cursed app if not for it, none of this would have happened. With a muttered prayer she pressed and held the icon, ready to uninstall.
That was when her screen lit up. A new message. Unknown number again.
Vikram: “Hi… Kinza baby.”
Kinza: “I am not your baby…”
Vikram: “Why always so sour?”
Kinza: “You know it, bastard. You’re blackmailing me… and even boasting about it in the office.”
Vikram: “It’s not blackmail, Kinza babe… and I think you’re pretty much enjoying it.”
Kinza: “I don’t, you sick bastard…”
Vikram: “Don’t lie to yourself, Kinza. Ask your pussy. And by the way, in the office no one knows—although they’d all kill to see your fat tits. But I’m possessive. I don’t share.”
His crude words crawled straight between her legs. Heat pulsed there, unwanted.
Kinza: “Why are you doing this? Just delete that photo, please.”
Vikram: “Because I like to play with my kitten. Now send me another pic like yesterday…”
Her heart hammered. She knew he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
Kinza: “Please, don’t make me do this…”
Vikram: “I love when you beg. But I still need those pics.”
Kinza: “You got one yesterday. Please don’t…”
Vikram: “I need one every day. Besides, you’re still cropping your face. If you send one with your face, I might stop.”
“Bastard,” she cursed under her breath. She knew she would have to. With shaking hands she locked her room again.
Vikram: “Send whole body. Your tits. Your pussy.”
Her fingers moved like she was under a spell, trembling but obedient. She undid the clasp of her top, the fabric loosening with a soft sigh before sliding off her shoulders. The gown followed, peeling down her waist, clinging for a moment to the swell of her hips before pooling at her feet.
Now she stood completely bare, the single contrast of her hij*b framing her flushed face. She knew that bastard would drink in that sight the pious dbang above, the sinful nakedness below.
The air kissed her skin cold, raising goosebumps across her arms and chest. Her nipples stiffened instantly, dark peaks jutting out proudly from her heavy breasts as though begging to be captured. Her stomach was taut with nerves, thighs pressing together, but still she lifted the phone.


Click her breasts filled the frame, soft globes with fat, aching tips. Click her waist tapering into the curve of her hips, thick thighs shining faintly under the dim yellow light. Click her whole body, stripped and trembling, veil framing her bare shame like a cruel halo.
Each snap felt like a lash against her modesty, but the camera lens made her body look obscene in ways she had never imagined. The flesh of her tits seemed fuller, her pussy lips swollen and inviting under the faint shadow, her thighs looking like soft white cushions waiting to trap a man’s head.
Her heart pounded louder with every shot, fingers quivering as she reviewed the images each one filthier than what she thought she was capable of sending.
With a choked breath, she sent them. The blue ticks appeared almost instantly.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
His reply came instantly:
Vikram: “My my… look at that figure. So slutty. Those fat tits… those thick thighs. Such a slutty body you possess, Kinza baby. Always hiding it under your modest attire.”
His lewd compliment made her shiver; her thighs pressed together as a wetness grew.
Vikram: “Send a close pic of your thighs and your pussy.”
Kinza: “Enough for today. You got your pic.”
She regretted sending the text the moment it left her phone it was as good as a promise for tomorrow. Before she could delete it, the double tick appeared.
Another message:
Vikram: “Those smooth toned thighs, Kinza… I’d love to have my head crushed between them…”
The imagery pierced her. No one had ever said anything like that to her. She had always thought her thighs were too fat now this arrogant prick wanted his face buried between them.
She closed her phone. All night the images he had painted crept into her dreams, filthy, vivid, unstoppable. Her body tossed under the sheet, caught between shame and a heat she hated.She closed her phone. All night the words replayed, wrapping around her like shackles. When sleep finally claimed her, it dragged her into his filth.
She dreamt of nothing else but his face buried deep between her thighs. Her legs, thick and pale in the dream, clenched around his head, squeezing him tight. His stubble scratched her soft skin as his tongue forced its way through her folds.
She moaned in her sleep, twisting under the sheet. In the dream his hands were locked onto her ass, kneading, pulling her down harder onto his mouth. The heat of his breath against her pussy made her shudder, hips grinding helplessly.
Her thighs, the ones she always thought were too heavy, now looked like weapons thick, smooth pillars trapping his skull. He groaned into her flesh like he wanted to suffocate there.
The sensation in the dream was unbearable his mouth wet and greedy, his tongue lashing, his words muffled against her dripping core: “Fuck… my kitten…”
Her toes curled. Her body jerked. Even in her sleep, shame battled with the throbbing ache between her legs. She hated it, hated that her pussy pulsed harder every time she saw his face smothered in her thighs.
By dawn, she woke with damp sheets, thighs pressed together tight as if still holding his head prisoner.

Next day at office, Kinza kept her eyes down, avoiding Vikram’s gaze. It was meeting day she had no choice but to see him across the table, his smug smirk needling her every second.
Later, by the coffee machine, she overheard his voice again. Rahul was with him, and Neha stood close by, half amused, half scolding.
Vikram : “I told you, dude… this one is some fine maal. Her figure, uff—” He puckered his lips and made a kissing gesture.
Rahul : “You always bag the fine baddies, man.”
Neha (teasing, rolling her eyes): “Who’s this new fish of yours?”
Vikram: “I’ll tell you in time, but man… her thighs. I can’t wait to bury my face in them before I eat her alive.”
Neha slapped him lightly on the shoulder, mock scolding.
Neha: “Uff, you both are perverts! No manners talking like this in front of a lady.”
Vikram: “What’s improper about it? I bet she’ll love it when I eat her pussy. Don’t you like it when yours gets eaten, Neha?”
She gasped, slapped him again.
Neha: “Bastard! I should report you to HR.”
Vikram : “Please do.”
They all laughed it off, but from her desk across the room, Kinza’s heart thudded painfully. His eyes flicked toward her for a brief second long enough to let her know exactly who he was describing. Shame burned her cheeks, but worse was the shiver that slid down her spine, the echo of his words colliding with the filth of her dreams from last night.She tried not to think about his cruel words ,try not to add it fuel her imagination.
She fled the office as soon as the clock struck out, her body heavy with dread. She knew it: tonight he would make her do something even more daring, even more degrading. She spent the evening restless, trying to steel herself.
At 11 p.m., the text came.
Vikram: “Why were you so silent today?”
Kinza: “You know why. You’re the reason for all my problems.”
Vikram: “I don’t like this moody Kinza. I like my bold, cheerful baby girl. So… to get you out of your comfort zone, I’ve got a little task for you.”
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Kinza: “What task?”
Vikram: “First, send me tonight’s pics. I want three.”
She didn’t even argue this time her body moved faster than her shame. She stripped, clicked three trembling shots, and sent them across. Within seconds, his reply buzzed her phone.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Vikram: “This one will do.”  “Now listen.”
Kinza: “Do what?”
Vikram: “I want you to post it on Reddit. Right now.”
Her chest locked. Fear surged up her throat. But beneath that fear, shameful heat spread between her thighs.
Kinza: “No… I can’t. Please, Vikram. I can’t.”
Vikram: “You can, baby girl. There’s no face in this one, no one will know it’s you. Come on don’t waste my time.”
Kinza: “Please… why are you making me do this?”
Vikram: “Because I want the world to admire what you’ve been hiding under those modest clothes. Because I want you to taste how men will worship that body. And because if you don’t, I’ll post the car pic instead.”
Her knees weakened. That car photo would ruin her. Helpless, trembling, wet, she did as told. Her hands shook as she tapped through the app, uploaded the photo, hit post.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
By the time she collapsed back onto her bed, heart hammering, she could feel her pussy itching, throbbing, soaked despite the fear.
Minutes crawled.
Vikram: “Good girl. Now, don’t sleep. Wait one hour before you open it again.”
She obeyed. Her screen lay face down beside her, the weight of humiliation pressing on her chest. When the hour passed, she finally unlocked it.
Notifications lit up her feed dozens, maybe hundreds of comments.
“Fuck, those tits are heaven. Look at the size of them.”
“Juicy melons. I’d suck them till she cries.”
“That pussy looks like candy, so smooth. I’d spread those thighs and eat for hours.”
“
“Perfect wife material… perfect fucktoy material too.”
“Bet she moans like a bitch when her nipples are pulled.”
“I want to bend her over, bury myself balls deep.”
Her eyes darted across every filth-soaked line. Each word was a knife of shame, but each knife twisted straight into the wet knot between her thighs. Her breathing grew shallow, gown riding up her legs as her trembling fingers hovered over the damp heat of her panties. She fought the urge, pressing her thighs tight.
The phone buzzed again.
Vikram: “See? The whole world wants you. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
Kinza: “Why are you making me do this?”
Vikram: “Because I know you, baby girl. You enjoy it. Just like you enjoyed roaming the market that day under your b*rkha, naked beneath.”
Kinza: “I didn’t…”
Vikram: “Such a pretty liar. I bet your fingers are already touching that wet pussy. But no don’t play with yourself tonight. Save it. Tomorrow I’ll give you your next task.”
Her screen dimmed, but the ache in her body refused to. She curled into her pillow, thighs pressed shut, fighting tears and the unbearable throbbing between her legs. She knew tomorrow he would push her even further. And terrifyingly, her pussy throbbed harder at the thought.