The Teacher Who Knelt to maid Son

[Batni123]

Part Two: The Seven Days of Ownership
Chapter One extended : Day 8 – Monday, 25 May 2020
**The Bedroom Welcome – Evening Shadows**
The afternoon sun had dipped low, turning the living room into a cocoon of golden haze, the kind of light that softened edges but sharpened secrets. It was 4:17 p.m., and the flat hummed with the ordinary rhythm of post-lunch quiet: the ceiling fan whirring lazily overhead, the distant clatter of a neighbor's pressure cooker, the faint scent of cumin lingering from Lakshmi's midday dal. Nikhil sat on the edge of the sofa, legs spread casually, a half-read newspaper open on his lap but unread, his mind still replaying the bedroom conquest in vivid, throbbing detail—her hair under his feet, her ass yielding to him for the first time, the way she had cried "Sir!" as she came around his cock. The power sat on him like a new skin, tight but fitting better with every breath. *I took her ass. My teacher's virgin ass. Filled it. Owned it.* The thought made him shift, his shorts tenting slightly, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. He was alone for the moment, Lakshmi still out on her errand, Radha napping in the bedroom—*her bedroom, now mine*—and the flat felt like his for the first time.
The front door clicked open at 4:22 p.m., the chain rattling as Lakshmi stepped in, cloth bag slung over her shoulder, face flushed from the heat and the market bustle. She paused in the doorway, wiping sweat from her brow with the end of her pallu, her eyes landing on Nikhil sprawled comfortably on the sofa—the "saab's" sofa, the one the family rarely used. Her son, in his shorts and T-shirt, looking relaxed, almost... at home. A flicker of something crossed her face—surprise, then a silent smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes without reaching her mouth. *Kya baat hai aaj beta sofa pe baitha hai,* she thought, the words unspoken but heavy in her mind. *Jaise ghar ka maalik ho.* She had noticed the changes—the way Nikhil's eyes followed Didi more these days, the way Didi's voice softened around him sometimes, the odd silences that stretched too long. The pile of clothes on the dining table yesterday, the panty on top... she had pretended not to see, but the pieces fit in her quiet, watchful heart. *Mera beta. * The smile lingered, naughty and knowing, as she set the bag down. "Kya baat hai aaj sofa pe baitha hai, beta?" she said lightly, voice teasing but eyes sharp, hanging the bag on the hook.
Nikhil's head snapped up, the lazy confidence faltering for a split second under his mother's gaze. *She noticed.* His cheeks warmed, but he forced a casual shrug, the newspaper rustling in his lap. "Bas, Ma. Thoda araam kar raha hoon." Inside, a flicker of triumph—*Even Ma sees it. I'm not the scared boy anymore.* But the old guilt twisted, sharp as a knife: *What if she knows? About Didi? The bedroom?* He pushed it down, smiling back, the power from the afternoon steadying him. "Tu market se jaldi aa gayi?"
Lakshmi chuckled, the sound warm but edged with that silent smile, as she kicked off her chappals and padded toward the kitchen. "Haan, beta. Sharma aunty ka ration mil gaya. Tu yahan raja ban gaya kya?" She didn't wait for an answer, disappearing into the kitchen with her bag, but the words hung, a gentle prod at the shift she sensed but wouldn't name. *Raja. Haan, mera beta ab raja ban raha hai yahan.*
Nikhil exhaled slowly, the newspaper forgotten, his mind drifting back to the bedroom—the way Radha's hair had yielded under his feet, the tight burn of her ass around him, her cries muffled in the pillow. *Mine. All mine.* The pride swelled, hot and possessive, making him shift again, the shorts too tight now.
At 4:35 p.m., the bedroom door creaked open. Radha emerged, moving with a deliberate slowness that betrayed the ache between her legs—the deep, throbbing soreness from Nikhil's invasion, her ass still tender, cum from the afternoon long dried but the memory fresh. Her steps were careful, hips swaying slightly off-balance, the simple white cotton nightie she had slipped into for her "nap" clinging to her sweat-damp skin. Her hair was loose, falling in disheveled waves to her waist, the bun from morning undone hours ago. The mangalsutra swayed with each step, a quiet jingle against her chest.
Lakshmi looked up from the kitchen doorway, a knife in hand from chopping onions, her eyes narrowing at the way Radha walked—stiff-legged, a subtle wince with every shift of weight. *Kya hua? Kamar mein dard?* she kept her voice light, concerned: "Didi, kya hua? Chal nahi paa rahi ho theek se?"
Radha paused in the doorway, forcing a casual smile, her hand fluttering to her lower back as if to rub away a cramp. The lie came easy, practiced: "Kuch nahi, Lakshmi. Thoda pain hai kamar mein. Kal se zyada khadi rahi class ke liye." *Online class,* she amended silently, the irony biting—* Humiliation burned low in her belly, mingling with the lingering ache, her thighs slick with fresh arousal at the memory. *He filled me. Marked me. And now I'm lying to the woman who raised him about why I can barely walk.*
Lakshmi nodded slowly, knife pausing mid-chop, her eyes flicking over Radha's disheveled hair and flushed cheeks. *Kamar ka dard? Haan, bilkul.* A silent, naughty smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, the pieces fitting too neatly—the sofa, the silences, the walk—but she said nothing, turning back to the onions with a soft hum.
Nikhil, from the sofa, overheard every word, the knife's thunk-thunk a backdrop to his swelling pride. *Kamar mein pain. From me. I did that to her.* The thought hit like a drug, hot and heady, his cock stirring in his shorts. *My cock in her ass. Made her limp. Made her lie to Ma.* Triumph bloomed, dark and sweet, the frightened boy from yesterday buried under this new, intoxicating certainty. *I own her. Completely.*
Radha felt the weight of eyes on her as she crossed the living room, the soreness making each step a private humiliation—*Lakshmi sees it. Nikhil hears it. They both know I was fucked raw by her son.* The shame burned, flushing her cheeks, but it fed the fire low in her belly, her nightie dampening between her thighs. *He took my ass. Filled it. And now I'm walking like a used whore in my own home.* She avoided Nikhil's gaze as she sank onto the sofa beside him, out of Lakshmi's line of sight from the kitchen, the cushions dipping under her weight. Shyness flooded her, hot and unfamiliar—the strict teacher reduced to this, avoiding her student's eyes after he had claimed her most private place. *Look at him. Sitting like he owns the room. Because he does. Because he owns me.*
Nikhil felt the sofa shift, her warmth inches from him, the faint scent of her skin—jasmine and sex—wafting over. *She's sitting close. Shy. After everything.* The power thrummed in his veins, once-frightened boy now bold enough to reach out, his hand sliding casually onto her thigh under the cover of the newspaper on his lap. The touch was possessive, fingers splaying over the nightie, thumb tracing a slow circle on her inner thigh, inches from where she was still sore and leaking. *Her thigh. Mine to touch. In the living room. With Ma in the kitchen.* Pride swelled, his cock hardening fully, the shorts tenting. *I made her limp. Filled her ass. And now she's sitting here, avoiding my eyes like a guilty girl.*
Radha's breath hitched at the touch, her thigh quivering under his palm, the casual ownership making her clench around the emptiness inside her. *His hand. On me. Like it's normal.* Shyness burned her cheeks, forcing her gaze to the floor, the newspaper's print blurring. *He's touching me. In front of his mother. After... after he took my ass.* Humiliation twisted with arousal, her pussy slicking further, the soreness a delicious ache. *Look at him. Confident. The boy I broke now breaks me with a touch.*
Nikhil leaned in slightly, voice low, for her ears only, the newspaper a flimsy shield. "How are you feeling, Radha? After... yesterday?"
Her voice came out soft, evasive, eyes still down: "Sore, Sir. But... good. Thank you."
He squeezed her thigh, thumb pressing higher, brushing the edge of her wetness through the nightie. *Sore from me. Good because of me.* Pride made his voice drop lower, confident now: "Sore where? Tell me."
Radha's flush deepened, the directness making her squirm, wetness seeping through the fabric onto his finger. *He's asking. In the living room. Like it's casual.* "My... my ass, Sir. You... you were big."
Nikhil's cock throbbed at the comparison, the power surging like a drug. "How big, Radha? Tell me. bigger than Arvind sir"
She glanced at him finally, eyes dark with shame and heat. "Thick, Sir. Long & Bigger than... than Arvind..

God, I said it. Compared my student to my husband. Like it's a fact. Like his cock owning me is normal. The words hung in her mind, humiliation crashing over her like a cold wave, burning hot in her cheeks and chest. Arvind—my husband, the man I vowed to honor—and Nikhil, the boy I terrorized, his cock thicker, longer, filling me in ways Arvind never did. I admitted it. Out loud. To him. The degradation sank deep, making her clench around the emptiness inside her, arousal mixing with shame in a dizzying swirl. I'm his now. Not Arvind's. And saying it makes it real. Makes me wetter.

Nikhil's cock throbbed at the confession, the power surging through him like electricity, his thumb pressing harder against her clit through the nightie, circling with deliberate slowness. Bigger than her husband. I own her more than he ever could. Filled her better. The words ignited something primal, the once-frightened boy now reveling in the conquest, his voice dropping to a low, confident rumble, laced with the dark edge of his buried fantasies. "You've surrendered, Radha. Completely. And I'm thinking... to what extent I can go. I have fantasies. Dark ones. Things I've wanted to do to you for years. Revenge for every slap, every humiliation. But now... I want to explore them all. With you."
Dark ones. Revenge. Radha's breath stuttered, the confession slamming into her like a physical force, fresh humiliation flooding her veins, hot and unrelenting. Fantasies about me. Breaking me. For the pain I caused him. The thought twisted like a knife—visions of the boy she had reduced to tears now dreaming of reducing her to the same, using her body as payback for every ruler's crack, every public shaming. I created this. My cruelty planted those seeds. And now they're blooming in me, making me drip like a slut. Arousal betrayed her, wetness soaking through the nightie onto his hand, her thighs trembling under his touch. He wants to punish me. With his cock. And God help me, I want it too. Her voice emerged husky, edged with need, eyes lifting to meet his: "Tell me, Sir. What... what do you want to do?"
Nikhil's thumb stilled for a beat, the question hanging between them like a dare, his mind flashing to the buried scenes—the staff room on her knees, the blackboard chained and writing her shame, the ruler turned weapon against her. The power thrummed, once-terror now temptation, his voice dropping to a gravel whisper, eyes dark with intent: "Tomorrow, when Ma leaves for the market, I want you in the study. Naked. On all fours like a pony. I'll ride you—pull your hair like reins, slap your ass with the ruler you used on me, make you crawl from the table to the window while I spit on your back and call you my filthy mare. Then... bend you over the desk where you graded my papers. I'll fuck your mouth deep, choking you until you gag and tears run, then flip you and take your ass again, filling it while I read your old lesson notes aloud. Revenge for every 'F' you gave me. And when I'm done, you'll lick my feet clean, thanking me for every drop."
Radha's world narrowed to his words, each one a lash that stripped her further, humiliation exploding in her chest like fireworks—Pony. Crawling. Spat on like an animal. The degradation was visceral, her face burning, pussy clenching hard enough to make her gasp, wetness flooding his hand. Revenge. For the F's. Using my study—my kingdom—as his stable. Arousal warred with the shame, her nipples peaking against the nightie, the thought of being reduced to his beast of burden making her lightheaded. He's planning. Commanding. The boy is the man now, and I'm his canvas for payback. She leaned into his touch, voice a breathless whisper: "Yes, Sir. Tomorrow. Your study. Your pony waiting on all fours. Ride me. Spit on me. Fill me. Make me lick your feet while I thank you for breaking your teacher."
Nikhil groaned low, the vulgarity from her lips—the strict teacher's mouth spewing filth—pushing him to the edge, his hand slipping under the nightie now, fingers breaching her wetness. She's agreeing. Wet for it. For the degradation. For my revenge. Pride swelled, dark and heady, his cock straining. "And after? When she's gone again?"
Radha's eyes glazed, the humiliation fueling her, words spilling filthy and free: "After, Sir... the balcony. Naked. On my knees. You'll stand over me and spit in my mouth while I beg for more. Then pony again—crawl me around the room on a leash made from my own dupatta, slapping my ass red, making me whinny like a mare in heat. Then... . Cum on my mangalsutra. Mark your randi …. Fill my ass on the altar, make me leak while I light incense for you."
Nikhil's breath roughened, his thumb resuming its circle on her clit, pressing harder now, the plan solidifying between them. She's mine. Planning her own degradation. For me. "Tomorrow, Radha. All of it. Starting with the study. And tonight... sleep with my cum still inside you. No cleaning. Let it remind you who owns that ass."
Radha moaned softly, hips rocking against his hand, the promise searing her. "Yes, Sir. Your cum-dump. Filled all night."
Lakshmi called from the kitchen: "Didi, chai piyo?"
Radha pulled away, standing on shaky legs, avoiding his eyes as she smoothed the nightie, the wetness between her thighs a slick reminder. Tomorrow. His revenge. In every room. God, I can't wait. Humiliation burned sweet, her steps careful as she walked away, the soreness from his cock a badge of her fall.
Nikhil watched her go, pride and hunger coiling tight. Tomorrow. She begs for it. My randi. All mine.
The evening deepened with plans unspoken, the power shifting one filthy promise at a time.

Night of Day 8

The flat was shrouded in the humid dark of 11:23 p.m., the only light the faint blue glow of the streetlamp seeping through the balcony slats. Lakshmi had retired to her small room at the back, her snores a soft rumble through the thin wall. The air was thick, sticky, the fan's whir a futile battle against the heat that clung to everything like guilt.
Nikhil lay on his thin mattress in the servant's quarter, the plywood door cracked open to let in a sliver of breeze, his body still humming from the day's conquests. The power he had taken—Radha's ass, her hair under his feet, her filthy promises in the living room—sat heavy in his chest, a crown that both fit and chafed. I did it. Took her. Made her say those words. But the high was edged with a new uncertainty, the fantasies from his youth—dark, vengeful—now clashing with the reality of her surrender. Tomorrow. The study. Pony. Spitting. God, what if I can't follow through? What if it's too much for her? For me? He shifted, cock half-hard again, the memory of her on her knees making him groan into the pillow. She's mine. No. It's mine now. All of it.
Across the balcony, in the master bedroom, Radha sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the white nightie rumpled and damp with sweat, the sheets kicked to the floor. The mangalsutra felt heavy against her skin, a reminder of the vows she had twisted into this new devotion. The soreness in her ass was a constant throb, cum long dried but the invasion fresh, a brand she carried inside her. He took it. My last. Filled me like property. Humiliation burned low, making her clench around the emptiness, wetness gathering anew. Tomorrow. The study. On all fours. His pony. The image seared—crawling, hair as reins, his slaps on her ass echoing off the bookshelves where she had once ruled knowledge. Spitting. Like a dog. Drinking his shame. The degradation made her breath hitch, fingers slipping between her thighs unbidden. I'm his randi now. Begging for it. And I crave it. Doubt flickered—What if he pushes too far? —but she crushed it, the thrill winning. No. Let him. Let him see how low I'll go for him.
The night deepened, two minds in separate rooms, both wide awake, both plotting the same dark dawn.
Nikhil whispered to the ceiling: Tomorrow, she crawls for me. My pony. My spit on her tongue.
Radha whispered to the dark: Tomorrow, I beg for his reins. His shame. His everything.
The seven days burned on.



### The Queen Who Knelt
Part Two: The Seven Days of Ownership
Chapter Two: Day 9 – Tuesday, 26 May 2020
**The Study Stable**

The study was Radha's kingdom once—a room of towering bookshelves lined with calculus texts and geometry tomes, the teak desk scarred from years of red-ink corrections, the air thick with the musty scent of paper and her own authority. Now, at 2:15 p.m., with Lakshmi gone to the temple for her evening puja (a two-hour window of solitude), it was Nikhil's stable.

Radha knelt naked in the center of the room, on all fours like a mare awaiting her rider, the Persian rug rough against her palms and knees. Her hair hung loose in a thick black curtain, ends brushing the floor, the mangalsutra swaying between her heavy breasts like a bell on a beast. The pile of yesterday's clothes—saree, blouse, petticoat, panty, bra—sat folded neatly on the desk, a reminder of her stripped dignity. Her ass still throbbed from last night's invasion, a deep, delicious ache that made her clench with every breath, cum from his morning load long dried but the memory fresh. *On all fours. In my study. Like an animal.* The humiliation burned low in her belly, hot and unrelenting—*This room where I ruled knowledge, now my son's stable for his teacher's cock.* But the lust drowned it, her pussy slick and empty, clit throbbing for the touch she craved. *He'll ride me. Slap me. Spit on me. And I'll come from it. Because this is what I need. To be his beast.*

Nikhil stood behind her, naked, the ruler from her desk in one hand, his cock hard and curving upward, pre-cum beading at the tip. The sight of her—ass high, back arched, breasts hanging like udders—stirred the dark fantasies he had confessed yesterday, revenge for every slap she had given him now twisted into possession. *My pony. My randi teacher. Crawling in the room where she broke me.* Confidence thrummed in his veins, the boy who once feared her voice now holding the reins. But the care lingered—a need to make her feel it, to push her to the edge but pull her back with pleasure. *She wants this. Begged for it. I'll give her the filth, but make her shatter.*

He stepped closer, foot nudging her knee wider. "Eyes forward, pony. Head up. Show me that proud teacher's face."

Radha lifted her chin, eyes straight ahead at the bookshelf—her own notes on trigonometry mocking her from the shelf. *Pony. Head up. Like a show animal.* Humiliation flushed her skin, nipples tightening, pussy clenching on nothing. *He sees me like this. Reduced. And I drip for it.* "Yes, Sir," she whispered, voice husky, the title a spark to her core.

Nikhil gripped a fistful of her hair at the nape, pulling just enough to arch her back further, the strands taut like reins. "Good mare. Now... beg for your rider."

Radha's breath hitched, the pull on her scalp sending a jolt straight to her clit. *Beg. Like a horse for sugar.* The degradation sank deep, her voice emerging raw, filthy Hindi spilling from the strict teacher's lips: "Sir... ride your randi pony... khincho meri zubaan jaise jaanwar... slap my gaand with your ruler... make me crawl like the gandi kutti I am..."

Nikhil's cock jumped, the vulgarity from her mouth—the woman who once silenced him with a word—making him groan. *She's begging. For this.* He spat—thick, deliberate—onto her upturned face, the warm glob landing on her cheek and sliding toward her parted lips. "Catch it, pony. Drink your rider's spit."

Radha's tongue darted out, catching the trail, licking it clean with a moan that vibrated through her chest. *Spit. On my face. From him. And I lick it like nectar.* Humiliation exploded, tears pricking her eyes—*The teacher who made him cry now cries for his saliva*—but her pussy throbbed, wetness dripping onto the rug. "Thank you, Sir... aapki thook meri jaan hai... aur thooko... meri shakal pe, meri zubaan pe..."

He spat again, harder this time, the glob hitting her open mouth, splattering her tongue. She swallowed noisily, moaning like it was wine, the salty bitterness making her clench. *Drinking his spit. Like a toilet. And I crave more.* "Haan, Sir... aapka paani... meri pyaas bujhao..."

Nikhil gripped the hair-reins tighter, swinging a leg over her back like mounting a horse, settling his weight on her spine—his cock pressing hot against the small of her back, balls resting on her ass crack. The ruler cracked against her right cheek, sharp and stinging. "Ghoom, randi. Crawl for your master."

Radha gasped at the slap, the burn blooming red, ass clenching around the phantom fullness of yesterday. *Ridden. Like a pony. His weight on me. In my study.* Humiliation seared her, tears spilling now—*I carried books for thirty years. Now I carry him on my back*—but lust made her drip, pussy aching for touch. "Haan, Sir... aapki pony chal padi..." She crawled forward on hands and knees, the rug scbanging her palms, his weight shifting with each movement, cock sliding along her spine, balls dragging over her ass.

He slapped her left cheek with the ruler, harder, the crack echoing off the bookshelves. "Tez. Like you mean it. Bol—kya hai tu?"

"Main aapki randi pony hoon, Sir!" she cried, voice breaking, crawling faster, circling the room, his weight bouncing on her back, cock leaving a wet trail on her skin. *Crawling. Ridden. In front of my books. My kingdom.* Shame choked her, sobs mixing with moans—*The woman who taught him now carries him like a beast*—but her clit throbbed, untouched, begging. "Slap me more... make your pony's gaand red... aapka lund meri peeth pe ragdo..."

Nikhil spat again, leaning forward to hawk it onto her shoulder, the glob sliding down her back toward her ass crack. "Catch it with your gaand, kutti. Let it lube you for later."

Radha arched her back, the spit hitting her skin, sliding into the cleft, mixing with her sweat. *Spit on my back. Lubing my ass. Like an animal.* Humiliation crested, tears streaming—*I'm his beast. Broken. Owned.*—but she moaned, pushing back, the degradation making her pussy clench. "Haan, Sir... aapki thook meri gaand ka tel hai... aur thooko... bhar do mujhe..."

He spat three more times in quick succession—shoulder, lower back, directly into her ass crack—the warm globs pooling, sliding down. "Chal, pony. Faster. Show me how low my teacher can go."

She crawled harder, circling the desk, his weight bouncing, ruler cracking her ass in rhythm—left, right, left—each slap blooming fire, her skin turning pink, then red. *Slapped. Ridden. Spat on. In my study.* The sobs came freely now, but so did the moans, her pussy dripping onto the rug, clit aching for relief. *This is me. Randi pony. Begging for more.* "Sir... aapki pony ki choot jal rahi hai... touch karo... please..."

Nikhil reached under with one hand, fingers finding her clit, rubbing roughly while the other slapped her ass. "Cum, randi. Cum like the animal you are."

The command shattered her. Radha came with a wail, body convulsing under him, pussy squirting onto the rug, ass clenching as waves ripped through her. *Cumming. On all fours. Ridden like a horse.* Humiliation peaked, tears soaking the floor—*The teacher cums from pony play*—but ecstasy drowned it, her body shaking, his fingers slick with her release.

Nikhil slowed her crawl, dismounting with a final slap. "Good pony. Now... bend over the desk. Time to reward my pony."

Radha rose, legs shaking, and bent over the teak desk where she had once graded his papers, ass high, pussy and hole exposed. *Desk. My throne. Now his breeding stand.* Nikhil stepped up, cock pressing to her entrance—sliding into her pussy first, the wet heat enveloping him like velvet fire. *Tight. Dripping. Mine.* He thrust deep, hips snapping, the desk creaking under them, books rattling on the shelves. Radha moaned, pushing back, the fullness stretching her deliciously. *Fucked. On my desk. Like a slut.* He reached around, rubbing her clit, making her shatter again, walls clenching around him.

Nikhil pulled out, slick with her, and shifted to her ass—pushing in without mercy, the burn making her cry out. *God. Tighter. Hotter.* He fucked her hard, one hand slapping her ass, the other gripping her hair-reins, pulling her head back. "Cum again, kutti. Milk my cock with your gaand."

She did, shattering around him, the orgasm ripping a scream from her throat. Nikhil followed, burying deep, flooding her ass with hot spurts, marking her once more.

He pulled out, cum leaking from both holes, and sat back in the chair, cock still semi-hard and slick. "Clean me. With your mouth."

Radha dropped to her knees, taking his slick cock deep, licking every trace—her pussy and ass, his cum—swallowing with moans. *Cleaning his cock. Tasting us on him.* Humiliation crested, but she savored it, eyes locked on his.

Nikhil groaned, spent, watching her work, the sight—her on her knees, mouth full of him—making a smile spread across his face. He reached down, patting her head like a favored pet, fingers threading through her hair, the gesture casual, almost affectionate, but laced with possession. *My pony. My randi. On her knees, cleaning me.* The pride swelled, warm and intoxicating, his once-frightened heart now steady with ownership.

Radha looked up at him, mouth still around his softening cock, the pat on her head sending a fresh wave of humiliation crashing through her. *Patted. Like a dog. After he fucked me like an animal.* The degradation sank deep, tears pricking her eyes again—*The teacher who commanded him now looks up from between his legs, begging for a pat like a good pet.* Shame burned her cheeks, her pussy clenching around nothing, the soreness in her ass a constant echo of her fall. *This is me. Reduced to this. His pet. His pony. And I crave the pat.* But beneath the burn was a twisted gratitude, the simplicity of the gesture making her feel claimed, cherished in her degradation. *He pats me. After everything. Like I'm his.*

Nikhil's smile widened, fingers stroking her hair now, the touch gentle. "Good girl. Now... tell me, Radha—what made you do this? All of it?"

Radha pulled off his cock with a soft pop, licking her lips clean, sitting back on her heels on the floor, naked and marked, his cum still leaking from her. Her voice was soft, eyes down: "You won the game, Sir. The Ludo. That's how it started."

Nikhil shook his head, smile fading to something sharper, curious. "That's not the real reason. The game was just the excuse. Tell me the truth."

Radha's breath caught, the question peeling back the layers she had hidden even from herself. *The truth.* Humiliation flickered—*Admitting it to him. The boy who now owns me.* But the lust for surrender won, her voice emerging raw, honest: "The truth, Sir... is that I was empty. Years of being the strict teacher, the perfect wife, the woman everyone feared and no one touched. Arvind's at sea, the bed cold, the days endless. The lockdown... it broke something in me. I saw you—grown, strong, still afraid of me—and I wanted to flip it. To kneel. To feel the power I wielded turned against me. The game was the door. But the surrender... that's what I craved. To be your randi. To let the boy I broke own the woman who broke him. It fills the emptiness. Makes me alive."

Nikhil's eyes darkened, the confession hitting him like a revelation, his cock twitching back to life. *Empty. Craved my revenge. Needed to be broken by me.* The power deepened, once-frightened boy now the fulfillment of her hidden hunger. "I don't think I've tested your limits yet, Radha. Everything's come too easy. I want to see how far you can go."

Radha's heart stuttered, the challenge sending a thrill through her. *Test me. Push me.* "I can do anything for you, Sir. Anything."

Nikhil thought for a beat, smile returning, slow and wicked. "You said I own your mouth too. I can do anything to it."

Radha smiled back, the memory of yesterday's blowjob flashing—*His cum on my face. In my throat.* "Yes, Sir. You did. And you can again."

Nikhil's smile sharpened, eyes glinting. "Not yet. I will pee on your mouth."

Radha's face turned red, shock slamming into her like ice water, humiliation exploding in her chest. *Pee. On my mouth. From him.* The degradation was beyond anything—*Drinking his piss. Like a toilet. The teacher reduced to that.* Her cheeks burned, eyes widening, voice a whisper: "Please, Sir... anything else?"

Nikhil's laugh was sudden, low and triumphant, the sound echoing in the study. *She's shocked. Begging. This is it—snatching her last dignity.* The thought thrilled him, the revenge sweet—*The woman who made me feel small now begs not to be pissed on.* "No. Open wide. Swallow it all."

Radha's mind reeled, humiliation cresting like a wave—*Piss. In my mouth. From my student. Swallowing like a urinal.* Tears pricked her eyes, the degradation absolute, but the lust twisted it into need, her pussy clenching. *This is the test. The limit. And I want it.* "Only... in the bathroom, Sir. Please."

Nikhil nodded, standing, cock in hand. "Lead the way, randi."

Radha rose on shaking legs, the soreness in her ass making her wince, leading him to the attached bathroom—tiles cool underfoot, the large mirror reflecting her naked form and his following shadow. *Leading him to piss on me. In my bathroom. Like a chamber pot.* Humiliation burned, tears spilling—*The married woman, teacher, now his toilet*—but she knelt in the shower stall, mouth open, head tilted back, eyes locked on his. *Drink it. For him. To prove.*

Nikhil stood over her, cock aimed at her face, the stream starting slow—warm, golden arc hitting her tongue first, salty and acrid. Radha gagged, swallowing convulsively, the taste flooding her mouth, spilling over her lips, running down her chin to her breasts. *Pissing in my mouth. Swallowing his urine. Like a slave.* The stream strengthened, filling her cheeks, overflowing to soak her neck, mangalsutra, dripping onto her nipples. She swallowed harder, moans mixing with gags, the degradation peaking—*His piss on my wedding necklace. Marking me.* Tears streamed, but she held his gaze, drinking until the stream tapered, the last drops shaking onto her tongue.

Nikhil watched, cock hardening again, the sight—her on her knees, face and body soaked in his piss, swallowing like it was nectar—making him groan. *My teacher. My toilet. Drinking me.* Triumph surged, dark and complete. "Good randi. Clean your face. With your hands. Smear it."

Radha obeyed, hands cupping the piss on her cheeks, smearing it across her face like makeup, rubbing it into her skin, the wet warmth cooling sticky. *Smeared in his piss. Like a whore's mask.* Humiliation choked her, sobs breaking free—*The woman who commanded respect now wears his urine like honor*—but her pussy throbbed, untouched orgasm building from the shame alone.

Nikhil stepped closer, cock at her lips. "Now... wash my legs. With your mouth. Every drop."

Radha leaned in, tongue lapping his calves, knees, thighs—salty skin, faint sweat, traces of her own ass from earlier—working upward, cleaning him inch by inch. *Washing his legs. With my mouth. After drinking his piss.* The degradation was total, tears mixing with the taste, but she moaned, ass wiggling, the act making her cum untouched, body shuddering on the tiles.




... Radha leaned in, tongue lapping his calves, knees, thighs—salty skin, faint sweat, traces of her own ass from earlier—working upward, cleaning him inch by inch. *Washing his legs. With my mouth. After drinking his piss.* The degradation was total, tears mixing with the taste, but she moaned, ass wiggling, the act making her cum untouched, body shuddering on the tiles.

Nikhil groaned, hand in her hair. "Good slave. Now... dress. And come to the living room."

Radha nodded, rising on trembling legs, the tiles slick under her feet from the shower spray and her own release. *Dress. Like nothing happened. Walk to him with his piss drying on my skin.* Humiliation lingered, sticky as the mess between her thighs, but the command pulled her like a leash. She slipped into the bathroom cabinet, pulling on a simple white cotton nightie—sleeveless, knee-length, the fabric thin and clinging to her damp skin. No bra, no panty, the soreness in her ass a constant throb with every movement, cum from the session still leaking slowly. *Walking like this. Filled. Marked. To sit at his feet.* She glanced in the mirror—hair wild, face flushed, eyes glassy with spent tears and fresh hunger—and smoothed it as best she could, the mangalsutra heavy against her chest like a weight she couldn't shed.

The living room was bathed in the dying light of late afternoon, the golden haze softening the edges of the furniture, the ceiling fan stirring the air lazily. Nikhil sat on the sofa—the family's prized piece, upholstered in deep burgundy velvet—like he had been born to it, legs spread wide, one arm dbangd over the back, the newspaper discarded on the floor. His shorts rode low on his hips, the bulge still visible, a casual king in his new domain. The flat was silent except for the distant hum of the city, Lakshmi's absence a gift of stolen time.

Radha entered quietly, her bare feet padding on the cool marble, the nightie whispering against her thighs. She saw him there—confident, relaxed, the boy who had once cowered now lounging like the owner—and her steps faltered, shyness flooding her anew. *Sitting like that. On our sofa. Waiting for me.* Humiliation twisted with the ache in her ass, making her wince with each step. *I just licked his piss from the floor. And now I walk to him like a wife to her husband.* She crossed the room without a word, sinking to the floor at his feet, knees folding gracefully, the marble biting cold against her skin. Her hands rested on her thighs, palms up in submission, eyes downcast, the mangalsutra brushing the floor.

Nikhil watched her descend, the sight—his teacher on the floor at his feet, nightie rumpled, body still marked by him—sending a fresh surge of power through him. *Mine. Kneeling. Without a word.* He extended one leg, placing his bare foot on her thigh, the sole pressing into the soft flesh through the thin cotton, toes curling slightly against her skin. *Her thigh. Warm. Yielding.* The contact was possessive, casual, his hand reaching down to pat her head—fingers threading through her loose hair, stroking like a favored pet. *Good girl. My randi. Kneeling after I pissed in her mouth.* Pride swelled, dark and sweet, his cock stirring in his shorts.

Radha's breath hitched at the foot on her thigh, the weight pinning her, the pat on her head a gentle degradation that made her clench around the emptiness inside. *His foot on me. Patting my head. Like a dog.* Humiliation burned, flushing her cheeks—*The woman who commanded rooms now sits at his feet, petted like a pet*—but the lust made her drip, the soreness in her ass a reminder of her place. *This is me. Reduced. Owned. And it feels... right.* She looked up at him shyly, eyes meeting his for a beat before dropping again, the smile on his face—confident, almost tender—twisting the knife of her fall sweeter.

Nikhil's smile widened, fingers continuing the pat, stroking her hair like silk. "So it's not seven days, Radha. I own you forever."

Radha said nothing, her gaze dropping fully, cheeks burning as she nodded once, the silent agreement sealing her fate. *Forever. Not a game. His. Completely.* The word echoed in her mind, humiliation crashing over her like a wave—*The teacher, the wife, now his eternal slave*—but it settled warm in her chest, a twisted peace. *Yes. Forever. His randi.*

Nikhil's hand stilled, the pat turning to a grip in her hair, tilting her face up. "If you want this forever... you have to get pregnant from me."

Radha's eyes widened, shock slamming into her like cold water, the words hanging heavy. *Pregnant. From him.* Humiliation exploded—*Carry his child. The maid's grandson in my womb. The ultimate surrender.* She thought she would resist, the line too far, but instead a strange happiness bloomed, fierce and unexpected, her face softening into a smile, eyes shining. *His seed. In me. Making life from this.* The degradation was profound—*The married woman, teacher, bred by her student*—but the lust for it overpowered, her pussy clenching, wetness fresh. "I... I'm in my most fertile days, Sir. You can make me. If you want."

Nikhil's mouth fell open, shock rippling through him, the offer hitting like a thunderbolt. *Pregnant. Me. Her.* The power surged, dark and overwhelming—*Her body. Mine to breed. Her husband cucked forever.* But doubt flickered—*A child? From this? What about Ma? The world?* He thought, mind racing, the fantasies colliding with reality, the revenge turning paternal in a way that terrified and thrilled. *She's offering it. Her fertility. For me.*

After a long beat, he closed his mouth, smile returning, slow and wicked. "How can I make another man's wife pregnant?"

Radha's mind whirled, the question a final test, humiliation peaking—*Another man's wife. Yes. That's what I am. But not anymore.* Internal storm raged—*Take it from me. The last symbol. Make me yours completely.* She reached up, fingers trembling as she unclasped the mangalsutra, the gold chain heavy in her palm, the black beads warm from her skin. *My marriage. My vows. At his feet.* Tears pricked her eyes, but she smiled through them, placing it at his feet like a crown surrendered, the chain pooling on the marble. "Tomorrow, Sir... make me your wife. Put your seed in me. Breed your randi."

Nikhil stared at the mangalsutra, the symbol of her marriage now at his feet, the power absolute. *Her marriage. Mine now.* He picked it up, dbanging it around her neck again, but loose, claiming it. "Tomorrow. Your fertile days. My seed. You're mine forever."

Radha nodded, tears spilling, the chain heavy with new meaning. *Bred. By him. His wife now.* Humiliation and joy twisted, her body thrumming.

The chapter ended with the vow sealed, the seven days eternal.