15-10-2025, 10:50 AM
Scene 1
The late afternoon of Kabir’s South Delhi studio. Samrat and Ananya sat opposite him, a mix of eagerness and slight nervousness on their faces. Kabir, lean and intense, fiddled with a lens cap, his expression unreadable.
Samrat: "Kabir, listen. We’re not looking for… typical honeymoon photos."
Kabir, suno. Hum koi… aam honeymoon ki tasveerein nahi dhoond rahe hain.
Ananya: "We want something real. Something… us. Raw."
Hum kuch asli chahte hain. Kuch… hum.
Kabir finally looked up, his gaze sharp, moving between them.
Kabir: "Real can be many things. Nude photography is a commitment. It’s not just about taking clothes off. It’s about vulnerability."
Asli kai cheezein ho sakti hain. Nude photography ek commitment hai. Sirf kapde utaarne ki baat nahi hai. Yeh vulnerability ki baat hai.
Samrat: "We understand that. We’ve discussed this extensively. Mauritius, just the two of us, and you."
Hum yeh samajhte hain. Humne is par khoob baat ki hai. Mauritius, bas hum do, aur aap.
Ananya: "We don't want posed smiles. We want the passion, the intimacy. The… erotic journey of being newly married."
Humein banaawati muskurahatein nahi chahiye. Humein woh passion chahiye, woh nazdeeki. Nayi shaadi-shuda hone ka woh… erotic safar.
Kabir leaned forward, placing the lens cap down. His voice dropped, a hint of challenge in it.
Kabir: "Are you sure you’re ready for that? For me to capture every glance, every touch, every unguarded moment? It can be intense. Uncomfortable, even."
Kya aap pakka hain ki aap uske liye taiyaar hain? Mere liye har nazar, har touch, har bekhabar pal ko capture karna? Yeh tez ho sakta hai. Asahaj bhi.
Ananya met his gaze, her chin lifting slightly.
Ananya: "We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. This isn’t a whim, Kabir. This is about capturing the essence of our love, in its most unfiltered form."
Agar hum nahi hote toh hum yahan nahi aate. Yeh koi achanak aaya khayal nahi hai, Kabir. Yeh hamare pyaar ke saar ko pakadne ke baare mein hai, uske sabse unfiltered roop mein.
Samrat: "Think of it as an art project. With us as the canvas. Mauritius as the backdrop. And you as the artist."
Isko ek art project ki tarah sochiye. Humare saath canvas ke roop mein. Mauritius backdrop ke roop mein. Aur aap artist ke roop mein.
Kabir was silent for a moment, processing their words, his eyes still scrutinizing them. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
Kabir: "This could be something extraordinary. But it will require absolute trust from your side. And complete creative freedom from mine."
Yeh kuch as extraordinary ho sakta hai. Lekin ismein aapki taraf se poora bharosa chahiye hoga. Aur meri taraf se poori creative freedom.
Ananya: "Agreed."
Sehmat hain.
Samrat: "Completely."
Poori tarah se.
============================NUDE PHOTOSHOOT TEST==========================
Kabir: "Alright then. Let's test this theory here in the studio. We need to see how comfortable you both truly are. Just the two of you, and me. Let's start." Achha theek hai. Toh chalo is theory ko yahan studio mein hi test karte hain. Humein dekhna hoga ki aap dono kitne comfortable hain. Bas aap dono, aur main. Chalo shuru karte hain.
He picked up his camera, a weighty, professional model, and clicked a lens into place with a definitive snap. His gaze, now purely professional, focused on Ananya.
Kabir: "Ananya, if you could… lose the jacket. And perhaps unbutton your shirt a little. Let's ease into this." Ananya, agar aap… jacket utaar sakti hain. Aur shayad apni shirt ke kuch button khol sakti hain. Dheere-dheere shuru karte hain.
Ananya hesitated for a fraction of a second, then her hands went to the buttons of her delicate silk shirt. She slowly unbuttoned it, revealing the soft swell of her cleavage. Samrat reached out, his hand gently resting on her lower back, a silent gesture of support. Kabir's camera was already up, a low, continuous whirring sound filling the quiet studio.
Kabir: "Good. Now, Samrat, hold her. Like you would when no one is watching. Ananya, lean into him. Feel him. Look at him." Achha. Ab, Samrat, use pakdo. Jaise aap tab pakadte jab koi nahi dekh raha hota. Ananya, uski taraf jhuko. Use mehsoos karo. Uski taraf dekho.
Samrat’s arms wrapped around Ananya, pulling her close. His lips found hers, a tender, slow kiss that deepened with each passing second. The camera clicked, a series of rapid-fire shots.
Kabir: "Excellent. Now, Samrat, move your kisses. Down her neck. To her collarbone. And then… to her cleavage. Ananya, arch into him. Let him explore." Shaandaar. Ab, Samrat, apne kisses ko neeche le jao. Uski gardan par. Uski collarbone par. Aur phir… uske cleavage par. Ananya, uski taraf arch karo. Use explore karne do.
Samrat’s lips trailed a path of fire down Ananya’s neck, his breath warm against her skin. He lingered at her collarbone, and then, slowly, deliberately, his mouth descended to the valley between her breasts, his lips pressing softly against the soft skin there. Ananya’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her. The camera was relentless, capturing every subtle shift, every flush of skin.
Kabir: "Ananya, your nipples. I need to see them. Let’s remove the shirt completely. Or unbutton enough for them to be free. Don't be shy." Ananya, aapke nipples. Mujhe unhein dekhna hai. Shirt poori tarah utaar do. Ya itne button kholo ki woh free ho sakein. Sharminda mat ho.
Ananya’s breath hitched, but she met Kabir’s gaze, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. With a decisive movement, she pulled her shirt open wider, letting it fall from her shoulders, baring her big 34 E breasts to the studio lights. Her nipples, already firm, stood proud. Samrat’s eyes darkened, and he instinctively pulled her closer, shielding her slightly, but Kabir’s voice cut through.
Kabir: "No, Samrat. Don't shield her. Let me see her. And now… Samrat, I want you to suckle her. Like she’s the only source of life. Ananya, wrap your hands in his hair. Own this moment." Nahi, Samrat. Use mat chhupao. Mujhe use dekhne do. Aur ab… Samrat, main chahta hoon ki tum use chooso. Jaise woh zindagi ka akela srot ho. Ananya, apne haathon ko uske baalon mein lapeto. Is pal ko apna banao.
Samrat’s gaze locked with Ananya’s, a primal hunger reflected in his eyes. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over one of her aroused nipples. Ananya gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. A low moan rumbled in her throat as his tongue swirled, suckling gently, then with more intensity. Her body arched, pressing against his, a natural, ancient rhythm taking over.
The clicks of Kabir's camera were the only other sound in the studio, a rhythmic accompaniment to their escalating intimacy. He moved around them, capturing angles, expressions, the raw, unfiltered passion that had ignited between them. He zoomed in on Samrat’s mouth on Ananya’s breast, on Ananya’s flushed face, on their entwined fingers. This wasn't just a test; it was an unfolding.
Kabir: "Yes. This is it. This is what I need. The honesty. The surrender. Don't stop. Just let it happen." Haan. Yeh hi hai. Mujhe yeh hi chahiye. Sachchai. Surrender. Ruko mat. Bas hone do.
To be Continued....
The late afternoon of Kabir’s South Delhi studio. Samrat and Ananya sat opposite him, a mix of eagerness and slight nervousness on their faces. Kabir, lean and intense, fiddled with a lens cap, his expression unreadable.
Samrat: "Kabir, listen. We’re not looking for… typical honeymoon photos."
Kabir, suno. Hum koi… aam honeymoon ki tasveerein nahi dhoond rahe hain.
Ananya: "We want something real. Something… us. Raw."
Hum kuch asli chahte hain. Kuch… hum.
Kabir finally looked up, his gaze sharp, moving between them.
Kabir: "Real can be many things. Nude photography is a commitment. It’s not just about taking clothes off. It’s about vulnerability."
Asli kai cheezein ho sakti hain. Nude photography ek commitment hai. Sirf kapde utaarne ki baat nahi hai. Yeh vulnerability ki baat hai.
Samrat: "We understand that. We’ve discussed this extensively. Mauritius, just the two of us, and you."
Hum yeh samajhte hain. Humne is par khoob baat ki hai. Mauritius, bas hum do, aur aap.
Ananya: "We don't want posed smiles. We want the passion, the intimacy. The… erotic journey of being newly married."
Humein banaawati muskurahatein nahi chahiye. Humein woh passion chahiye, woh nazdeeki. Nayi shaadi-shuda hone ka woh… erotic safar.
Kabir leaned forward, placing the lens cap down. His voice dropped, a hint of challenge in it.
Kabir: "Are you sure you’re ready for that? For me to capture every glance, every touch, every unguarded moment? It can be intense. Uncomfortable, even."
Kya aap pakka hain ki aap uske liye taiyaar hain? Mere liye har nazar, har touch, har bekhabar pal ko capture karna? Yeh tez ho sakta hai. Asahaj bhi.
Ananya met his gaze, her chin lifting slightly.
Ananya: "We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. This isn’t a whim, Kabir. This is about capturing the essence of our love, in its most unfiltered form."
Agar hum nahi hote toh hum yahan nahi aate. Yeh koi achanak aaya khayal nahi hai, Kabir. Yeh hamare pyaar ke saar ko pakadne ke baare mein hai, uske sabse unfiltered roop mein.
Samrat: "Think of it as an art project. With us as the canvas. Mauritius as the backdrop. And you as the artist."
Isko ek art project ki tarah sochiye. Humare saath canvas ke roop mein. Mauritius backdrop ke roop mein. Aur aap artist ke roop mein.
Kabir was silent for a moment, processing their words, his eyes still scrutinizing them. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
Kabir: "This could be something extraordinary. But it will require absolute trust from your side. And complete creative freedom from mine."
Yeh kuch as extraordinary ho sakta hai. Lekin ismein aapki taraf se poora bharosa chahiye hoga. Aur meri taraf se poori creative freedom.
Ananya: "Agreed."
Sehmat hain.
Samrat: "Completely."
Poori tarah se.
============================NUDE PHOTOSHOOT TEST==========================
Kabir: "Alright then. Let's test this theory here in the studio. We need to see how comfortable you both truly are. Just the two of you, and me. Let's start." Achha theek hai. Toh chalo is theory ko yahan studio mein hi test karte hain. Humein dekhna hoga ki aap dono kitne comfortable hain. Bas aap dono, aur main. Chalo shuru karte hain.
He picked up his camera, a weighty, professional model, and clicked a lens into place with a definitive snap. His gaze, now purely professional, focused on Ananya.
Kabir: "Ananya, if you could… lose the jacket. And perhaps unbutton your shirt a little. Let's ease into this." Ananya, agar aap… jacket utaar sakti hain. Aur shayad apni shirt ke kuch button khol sakti hain. Dheere-dheere shuru karte hain.
Ananya hesitated for a fraction of a second, then her hands went to the buttons of her delicate silk shirt. She slowly unbuttoned it, revealing the soft swell of her cleavage. Samrat reached out, his hand gently resting on her lower back, a silent gesture of support. Kabir's camera was already up, a low, continuous whirring sound filling the quiet studio.
Kabir: "Good. Now, Samrat, hold her. Like you would when no one is watching. Ananya, lean into him. Feel him. Look at him." Achha. Ab, Samrat, use pakdo. Jaise aap tab pakadte jab koi nahi dekh raha hota. Ananya, uski taraf jhuko. Use mehsoos karo. Uski taraf dekho.
Samrat’s arms wrapped around Ananya, pulling her close. His lips found hers, a tender, slow kiss that deepened with each passing second. The camera clicked, a series of rapid-fire shots.
Kabir: "Excellent. Now, Samrat, move your kisses. Down her neck. To her collarbone. And then… to her cleavage. Ananya, arch into him. Let him explore." Shaandaar. Ab, Samrat, apne kisses ko neeche le jao. Uski gardan par. Uski collarbone par. Aur phir… uske cleavage par. Ananya, uski taraf arch karo. Use explore karne do.
Samrat’s lips trailed a path of fire down Ananya’s neck, his breath warm against her skin. He lingered at her collarbone, and then, slowly, deliberately, his mouth descended to the valley between her breasts, his lips pressing softly against the soft skin there. Ananya’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her. The camera was relentless, capturing every subtle shift, every flush of skin.
Kabir: "Ananya, your nipples. I need to see them. Let’s remove the shirt completely. Or unbutton enough for them to be free. Don't be shy." Ananya, aapke nipples. Mujhe unhein dekhna hai. Shirt poori tarah utaar do. Ya itne button kholo ki woh free ho sakein. Sharminda mat ho.
Ananya’s breath hitched, but she met Kabir’s gaze, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. With a decisive movement, she pulled her shirt open wider, letting it fall from her shoulders, baring her big 34 E breasts to the studio lights. Her nipples, already firm, stood proud. Samrat’s eyes darkened, and he instinctively pulled her closer, shielding her slightly, but Kabir’s voice cut through.
Kabir: "No, Samrat. Don't shield her. Let me see her. And now… Samrat, I want you to suckle her. Like she’s the only source of life. Ananya, wrap your hands in his hair. Own this moment." Nahi, Samrat. Use mat chhupao. Mujhe use dekhne do. Aur ab… Samrat, main chahta hoon ki tum use chooso. Jaise woh zindagi ka akela srot ho. Ananya, apne haathon ko uske baalon mein lapeto. Is pal ko apna banao.
Samrat’s gaze locked with Ananya’s, a primal hunger reflected in his eyes. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over one of her aroused nipples. Ananya gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. A low moan rumbled in her throat as his tongue swirled, suckling gently, then with more intensity. Her body arched, pressing against his, a natural, ancient rhythm taking over.
The clicks of Kabir's camera were the only other sound in the studio, a rhythmic accompaniment to their escalating intimacy. He moved around them, capturing angles, expressions, the raw, unfiltered passion that had ignited between them. He zoomed in on Samrat’s mouth on Ananya’s breast, on Ananya’s flushed face, on their entwined fingers. This wasn't just a test; it was an unfolding.
Kabir: "Yes. This is it. This is what I need. The honesty. The surrender. Don't stop. Just let it happen." Haan. Yeh hi hai. Mujhe yeh hi chahiye. Sachchai. Surrender. Ruko mat. Bas hone do.
To be Continued....
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