04-12-2025, 11:58 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-12-2025, 10:46 PM by Batni123. Edited 4 times in total. Edited 4 times in total.)
Part Two: The Seven Days of Ownership
Chapter Three: Day 10 – Wednesday, 27 May 2020
**The Breeding Ceremony – Servant’s Room**
The servant’s quarter was tiny: one narrow iron cot, a plywood cupboard, a single bulb swaying from a wire, the walls peeling pale blue, the air thick with the smell of old cotton and cheap soap.
Tonight it was a temple.
Radha stood naked in the doorway at 1:30 p.m. Lakshmi was out on work, the mangalsutra dangling from her hand like a dead thing.
She had removed it in the living room hours ago; now she carried it like a bride carries her veil.
Her body was freshly bathed, skin glowing from the rose-water scrub she had given herself, nipples hard in the cool night air, thighs already trembling.
Between her legs she was slick, swollen, fertile, aching.
*This is the womb that disciplined hundreds of boys. Tonight it will open for only one.*
Nikhil sat on the edge of the cot, shirtless, wearing only a thin cotton lungi.
The bulb cast harsh shadows across his chest, the muscles he had grown in secret now taut with purpose.
His eyes never left her.
“Come here, Ma’am,” he said softly, using the old college title like a whip.
Radha’s breath caught.
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and sank to her knees on the rough coir mat.
The mangalsutra slipped from her fingers and clinked on the floor.
Nikhil rose, towering over her.
“Pick it up. Bring it to me in your mouth.”
She crawled the three steps, lowered her face, took the sacred chain between her teeth, and carried it to him like an offering.
He took it from her lips, let it dangle from his fist.
“Do you know what this room is, Ma’am?”
Radha’s voice was a whisper.
“Your room, Sir.”
“No. Tonight it is the place where the strictest Maths teacher of St. Mary’s gets bred by the boy she once failed in Class Ten.”
A sob escaped her throat, half humiliation, half prayer.
“Yes, Sir… please breed your failed student’s teacher.”
He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up.
“Say it properly.”
Radha’s eyes filled.
“Nikhil… put your seed inside Radha Ma’am… the woman who slapped you, who made you stand outside the class, who wrote ‘USELESS’ in red ink on your answer sheet… fill her fertile womb tonight… make her carry your child.”
His cock jerked against the lungi.
He pulled her up by the hair, laid her on the narrow cot on her back, knees pushed to her chest, pussy open and glistening under the bare bulb.
He knelt between her thighs, cock in hand, rubbing the head slowly up and down her slit.
Every time the tip kissed her entrance he stopped, teasing.
“Beg, Ma’am. Beg the boy you called worthless to knock you up.”
Radha’s hips lifted shamelessly.
“Please, beta… please, Sir… give your worthless teacher your baby… I’m ovulating… I can feel it… my womb is begging for you…”
He pushed in, one slow, relentless inch at a time, eyes locked on hers.
“Feel that, Ma’am? That is the cock of the student you humiliated… now stretching the pussy that belongs to a married woman… a teacher… a queen…”
Radha cried out, back arching.
“Yes… yes… stretch your queen… ruin her for everyone else…”
He began to move, deep, deliberate strokes, the cot creaking under them.
Every thrust was punctuated with words that cut and healed at the same time healed.
“This womb disciplined me for ten years…”
Thrust.
“Now it will swell for me for nine months…”
Thrust.
“Every kick inside you will remind you who owns you…”
Thrust.
“Every stretch mark will be my signature on your skin…”
Thrust.
“Every drop of milk in these tits will be because I bred you…”
Radha was sobbing openly now, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back.
“Breed me… breed your strict Ma’am… make me heavy with your child… let the whole college whisper that Radha Ma’am is carrying her student’s baby…”
He sped up, hips slamming, the small room filled with wet sounds and broken prayers.
“Look at me while I put my seed in you.”
She forced her tear-filled eyes open.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“I belong to Nikhil… the boy I broke… now my breeder… my god…”
He groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and held still.
“Take it, Ma’am… take every drop… feel me flooding the womb that belongs to me now…”
She felt the first hot spurt deep inside and screamed, her own orgasm crashing over her in violent waves, pussy milking him desperately, trying to pull every drop into her fertile core.
He stayed inside her long after he finished, softening slowly, making sure nothing leaked out.
Then he pulled out, a thick river of white immediately following.
He scooped it with two fingers and pushed it back inside her, again and again, until her pussy lips were puffy and glistening with his spend.
“On your knees, wife.”
Radha slid off the cot, legs shaking, cum already dripping down her inner thighs.
She knelt naked on the rough floor, forehead pressed to his feet in complete surrender.
Nikhil lifted the mangalsutra, now warm from his hand, and fastened it around her neck.
The black beads settled between her heaving breasts like a brand.
He placed his right foot gently on her bowed head.
“Ashirwaad lo, meri patni.”
Radha kissed his foot, tears falling onto his skin.
She raised her head slowly to receive his blessing.
And froze.
Lakshmi stood in the doorway, silent, eyes wide, sari pallu fallen from her shoulder.
She had seen everything: her son claiming the woman of the house, the mangalsutra now his to give, the proud teacher kneeling naked and dripping with his seed.
Radha’s breath stopped in her throat.
Nikhil’s hand tightened in her hair, possessive, calm.
Lakshmi said nothing.
She simply looked at her son, then at the woman at his feet, and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips.
She turned and walked away, the door left open behind her.
The bulb kept swaying.
The mangalsutra gleamed against Radha’s sweat-slick skin.
And inside her, Nikhil’s seed searched for home.
Nikhil shivering with moms fear. radha just stood pick her nighty and went to her room.
The seven days had become forever.
Chapter ends.
Chapter Three: Day 10 – Wednesday, 27 May 2020
**The Breeding Ceremony – Servant’s Room**
The servant’s quarter was tiny: one narrow iron cot, a plywood cupboard, a single bulb swaying from a wire, the walls peeling pale blue, the air thick with the smell of old cotton and cheap soap.
Tonight it was a temple.
Radha stood naked in the doorway at 1:30 p.m. Lakshmi was out on work, the mangalsutra dangling from her hand like a dead thing.
She had removed it in the living room hours ago; now she carried it like a bride carries her veil.
Her body was freshly bathed, skin glowing from the rose-water scrub she had given herself, nipples hard in the cool night air, thighs already trembling.
Between her legs she was slick, swollen, fertile, aching.
*This is the womb that disciplined hundreds of boys. Tonight it will open for only one.*
Nikhil sat on the edge of the cot, shirtless, wearing only a thin cotton lungi.
The bulb cast harsh shadows across his chest, the muscles he had grown in secret now taut with purpose.
His eyes never left her.
“Come here, Ma’am,” he said softly, using the old college title like a whip.
Radha’s breath caught.
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and sank to her knees on the rough coir mat.
The mangalsutra slipped from her fingers and clinked on the floor.
Nikhil rose, towering over her.
“Pick it up. Bring it to me in your mouth.”
She crawled the three steps, lowered her face, took the sacred chain between her teeth, and carried it to him like an offering.
He took it from her lips, let it dangle from his fist.
“Do you know what this room is, Ma’am?”
Radha’s voice was a whisper.
“Your room, Sir.”
“No. Tonight it is the place where the strictest Maths teacher of St. Mary’s gets bred by the boy she once failed in Class Ten.”
A sob escaped her throat, half humiliation, half prayer.
“Yes, Sir… please breed your failed student’s teacher.”
He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up.
“Say it properly.”
Radha’s eyes filled.
“Nikhil… put your seed inside Radha Ma’am… the woman who slapped you, who made you stand outside the class, who wrote ‘USELESS’ in red ink on your answer sheet… fill her fertile womb tonight… make her carry your child.”
His cock jerked against the lungi.
He pulled her up by the hair, laid her on the narrow cot on her back, knees pushed to her chest, pussy open and glistening under the bare bulb.
He knelt between her thighs, cock in hand, rubbing the head slowly up and down her slit.
Every time the tip kissed her entrance he stopped, teasing.
“Beg, Ma’am. Beg the boy you called worthless to knock you up.”
Radha’s hips lifted shamelessly.
“Please, beta… please, Sir… give your worthless teacher your baby… I’m ovulating… I can feel it… my womb is begging for you…”
He pushed in, one slow, relentless inch at a time, eyes locked on hers.
“Feel that, Ma’am? That is the cock of the student you humiliated… now stretching the pussy that belongs to a married woman… a teacher… a queen…”
Radha cried out, back arching.
“Yes… yes… stretch your queen… ruin her for everyone else…”
He began to move, deep, deliberate strokes, the cot creaking under them.
Every thrust was punctuated with words that cut and healed at the same time healed.
“This womb disciplined me for ten years…”
Thrust.
“Now it will swell for me for nine months…”
Thrust.
“Every kick inside you will remind you who owns you…”
Thrust.
“Every stretch mark will be my signature on your skin…”
Thrust.
“Every drop of milk in these tits will be because I bred you…”
Radha was sobbing openly now, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back.
“Breed me… breed your strict Ma’am… make me heavy with your child… let the whole college whisper that Radha Ma’am is carrying her student’s baby…”
He sped up, hips slamming, the small room filled with wet sounds and broken prayers.
“Look at me while I put my seed in you.”
She forced her tear-filled eyes open.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“I belong to Nikhil… the boy I broke… now my breeder… my god…”
He groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and held still.
“Take it, Ma’am… take every drop… feel me flooding the womb that belongs to me now…”
She felt the first hot spurt deep inside and screamed, her own orgasm crashing over her in violent waves, pussy milking him desperately, trying to pull every drop into her fertile core.
He stayed inside her long after he finished, softening slowly, making sure nothing leaked out.
Then he pulled out, a thick river of white immediately following.
He scooped it with two fingers and pushed it back inside her, again and again, until her pussy lips were puffy and glistening with his spend.
“On your knees, wife.”
Radha slid off the cot, legs shaking, cum already dripping down her inner thighs.
She knelt naked on the rough floor, forehead pressed to his feet in complete surrender.
Nikhil lifted the mangalsutra, now warm from his hand, and fastened it around her neck.
The black beads settled between her heaving breasts like a brand.
He placed his right foot gently on her bowed head.
“Ashirwaad lo, meri patni.”
Radha kissed his foot, tears falling onto his skin.
She raised her head slowly to receive his blessing.
And froze.
Lakshmi stood in the doorway, silent, eyes wide, sari pallu fallen from her shoulder.
She had seen everything: her son claiming the woman of the house, the mangalsutra now his to give, the proud teacher kneeling naked and dripping with his seed.
Radha’s breath stopped in her throat.
Nikhil’s hand tightened in her hair, possessive, calm.
Lakshmi said nothing.
She simply looked at her son, then at the woman at his feet, and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips.
She turned and walked away, the door left open behind her.
The bulb kept swaying.
The mangalsutra gleamed against Radha’s sweat-slick skin.
And inside her, Nikhil’s seed searched for home.
Nikhil shivering with moms fear. radha just stood pick her nighty and went to her room.
The seven days had become forever.
Chapter ends.
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