10-01-2026, 10:18 AM
The next morning, Devika wrapped her cotton saree with mechanical precision, the fabric settling against her body with familiar weight. She chose a traditional dbang—pallu pinned securely, pleats crisp and modest—as if the conservative style could somehow erase the previous night's transgressions.
But as she moved through her apartment, gathering her teaching materials, she felt it.
The phantom sensation of Vishnu's fingers. There. Inside her. Exploring territory she'd never offered to anyone, not even her husband of years. The memory made her pause mid-step, books clutched against her chest, breath catching in her throat.
"Stop," she whispered to the empty room. "Just stop thinking about it."
The auto-rickshaw ride to college passed in a blur of self-recrimination and conflicting physical sensations. Every bump in the road sent awareness rippling through her body, reminding her how thoroughly she'd been taken. How completely she'd surrendered.
By the time she reached the biology department, Devika had constructed a fragile wall of professional composure. This was just another day. Another lecture. She would walk into that classroom, teach mitosis and meiosis, and absolutely not think about the student in the back row who had—
No. Not thinking about it.
The lecture hall felt smaller somehow as she entered, the familiar rows of desks suddenly intimate and claustrophobic. Students shuffled papers and opened notebooks, their faces showing the typical blend of boredom and mild curiosity that greeted Monday morning classes.
Devika set her materials on the desk, adjusting her saree with hands that trembled slightly. When she finally raised her eyes to scan the room, her gaze snagged immediately on Vishnu.
Last row. Left side. Watching her with an expression that made her stomach clench.
His eyes held hunger, yes—that predatory gleam she'd seen before. But something else lurked there too. Recognition. Possession. A knowing smile that said I've been inside you. I know exactly what you sound like when you come.
Devika's fingers tightened on the chalk.
"Today we'll continue our discussion of cellular reproduction," she began, voice steadier than she'd expected. "Please turn to chapter twelve in your textbooks."
She taught. Explained diagrams. Answered questions about chromosome division and genetic variation. Through it all, she felt Vishnu's stare like a physical touch, sliding along her exposed waist where her saree sat, tracing the curves he'd explored with both hands and mouth just hours ago.
She ignored him.
Didn't meet his eyes. Didn't acknowledge the intensity of his focus. Pretended he was just another student among many, unremarkable and forgettable.
Vishnu's smile faded gradually, replaced by confusion. He shifted in his seat, clearly thrown by her distance. Yesterday she'd played his mother, kissed him with desperate passion, allowed him to violate her most private places. Today she wouldn't even look at him.
But he didn't react. Didn't call out or make a scene. Vishnu understood women well enough to recognize the guilt phase—the morning-after retreat that often followed bold choices made in darkness and desire.
He could wait.
Pathan, seated nearby, simply watched Devika's curves with his usual crude appreciation, oblivious to the charged silence between his friend and their teacher.
The class ended eventually. Students filed out in their typical chaos of scbanging chairs and shuffled papers. Devika busied herself erasing the board, back turned deliberately as Vishnu lingered near the door for several long seconds before finally leaving.
Only when the room emptied completely did she allow herself to breathe.
The staff room felt like sanctuary during lunch hour—or would have, if not for the conversation she needed to have.
Saradha sat at her usual spot near the window, eating homemade dosa from a steel tiffin container. She looked up as Devika approached, eyebrows raising slightly at whatever expression showed on Devika's face.
"Saradha..." Devika hesitated, lowering her voice despite the relative privacy. "Do you have time? I need to talk."
"Of course." Saradha set aside her food, attention sharpening. "What happened?"
Devika sank into the adjacent chair, fingers twisting in her saree's pallu. How did one even begin this confession?
"I had sex," she said finally, the words emerging barely above a whisper.
Saradha blinked. "What?"
"Real sex. The first time since coming to Pune."
"With Seenu?" Saradha leaned forward, eyes widening. "You finally—"
"No." Devika shook her head quickly. "Not Seenu."
"Then who?" Saradha's voice dropped to match Devika's hushed tone, curiosity blazing across her features.
Devika's throat worked silently for several seconds. She forced herself to meet Saradha's eyes. "Vishnu."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with shock.
"Vishnu?" Saradha repeated, as if testing the name for accuracy. "Your student Vishnu? Pathan's friend?"
"Yes."
"But... I told you to seduce them, Devika. Tease them. Keep them hungry but controlled." Saradha's expression shifted from shock to something approaching alarm. "Not to actually—"
"I know what you said." Devika's voice carried a sharp edge. "I always wanted to follow your advice. Seduce men, keep them under control, never lose power. But that night..." She trailed off, shame coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't control it. I allowed Vishnu to take me."
Saradha stared, clearly struggling to process this information. The careful manipulation she'd been coaching Devika toward had apparently exploded into something far messier.
"There's more," Devika continued, each word feeling like pulling teeth.
"More?"
"Not only Vishnu. There was another man."
Saradha's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Who?"
"Dattu."
The name hung in the air like an accusation.
"Dattu?" Saradha repeated blankly. "I don't know any Dattu at the college—"
"He's not at the college. He's..." Devika felt moisture prickling behind her eyes, threatening to spill over. "He's a mechanic. Old. And he's Vishnu's father."
The shock on Saradha's face deepened to something approaching horror. "Wait. You're telling me you had sex with a student and his father? An old mechanic?"
Devika nodded miserably.
"At the same time?"
Another nod.
"Devika..." Saradha sat back in her chair, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "I can't believe this. You—the proper Kerala professor—slept with both of them?"
"Please don't—" Devika's voice cracked. "Don't say it like that."
But Saradha's mind was clearly racing, putting pieces together. "Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning."
Devika drew a shaky breath. "Vishnu stopped coming to class for several days. When I checked on him, he said his father wouldn't allow him to continue college. Dattu—his father—had started drinking heavily again after his wife's death. He wanted Vishnu to quit studies and get a job."
Saradha listened silently, her lunch forgotten.
"I went to talk to Dattu. To convince him to let Vishnu return." Devika's fingers twisted harder in the saree fabric. "He was grief-stricken, drowning in alcohol and memories. I made a deal—I'd visit him on weekends to help with his drinking if he allowed Vishnu to continue his education."
"You visited this old mechanic?" Saradha's tone held disbelief. "Alone?"
"Yes. A few times. Just to talk, serve him tea. I thought I was helping."
"And then?"
"Then Vishnu called. Said it was Dattu's birthday, asked me to come celebrate." Devika's voice dropped lower. "When I arrived, there was no party. No guests. Just the two of them."
Understanding dawned in Saradha's eyes.
"I knew why they'd called me," Devika admitted. "I'm not stupid. But with all the fighting with Rajeevan, with his cheating... I wanted company. Someone who made me feel desired instead of disposable."
"So you stayed."
"I stayed."
The confession settled between them like a stone.
Saradha shook her head slowly. "Lucky Pune guys. Getting a young, educated Malayali woman like you."
"Don't mock me," Devika protested weakly.
"I'm not mocking. I'm amazed." Saradha's expression shifted to something more complex—disapproval mixed with grudging admiration. "Did you like it? The moment itself?"
Heat flooded Devika's face. "I... yes. But afterward, the guilt—"
"Because of your husband?"
"Because of my husband. My family. Everything I was raised to believe."
Saradha's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Stop thinking about that cheating bastard in Dubai. He's fucking other women while you sit here drowning in guilt. You're free now, Devika. Free to do whatever you want."
The words hit harder than expected, forcing a small smile through Devika's distress.
"I still can't believe it," Saradha murmured. "A wealthy, educated Kerala woman sleeping with both a student and his mechanic father. It's like something from those trashy novels."
"Please don't say it like that—"
"Did you like Dattu?" The question cut through Devika's protest.
Devika blinked, thrown by the shift. "What?"
"I mean when you slept with him. How was it?"
"I'm shy to tell—"
"Tell me anyway."
Devika's throat worked silently. "He's old. His skin is wrinkled, belly soft with age. But his..." She struggled with the word.
"What?"
"His dick." The crude term felt foreign on her tongue. "It's strong. Big. Tight inside me."
Saradha's eyebrows shot up.
The conversation was simulating Devika in ways she hadn't expected. She'd come seeking advice to escape this situation, but talking about it openly made everything feel more real and somehow more arousing.
"Bigger than your husband?" Saradha pressed.
Devika laughed despite herself—a sharp, bitter sound. "I thought Rajeevan was big. Until I felt Dattu inside me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt like a virgin again. He filled me completely."
Both women laughed then, the sound carrying an edge of hysteria.
"Did you suck their dicks?" Saradha asked, shameless in her curiosity.
Devika nodded, cheeks burning.
"Both of them are lucky," Saradha breathed. "Feeling your tongue on their precum-filled cocks."
The explicit language should have shocked Devika. Instead, she felt her body responding with treacherous heat.
"Saradha..." She hesitated. "Have you ever experienced anal sex?"
Saradha shook her head. "Never. Only seen it in adult movies. Why—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Did they take your ass too?"
"No," Devika said quickly. Then, after a pause: "But Vishnu fingered me there. First one finger. Then two. Then three."
The shock on Saradha's face was almost comical.
"You let him explore your ass?" Saradha's voice rose slightly before she remembered to keep quiet. "Devika, don't you understand what they're doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"They're training you." Saradha leaned forward urgently. "Preparing you for anal sex. They won't leave you alone until they've taken that virginity too."
"No." Devika shook her head firmly. "It won't happen again."
"You don't know these Pune men like I do." Saradha's expression turned grim. "They won't stop until they've made you their regular fucking partner. And next time..." She paused for emphasis. "Next time they'll try to double penetrate you."
"Double penetrate?" Devika's voice came out strangled.
"One in your pussy, one in your ass. At the same time."
The image sent a confusing jolt through Devika's body—part horror, part unwanted arousal.
"Do you want to enjoy them again?" Saradha asked bluntly.
"Strict no," Devika insisted. "Absolutely not."
Movement in the hallway caught Saradha's attention. Her gaze shifted to the staff room entrance where Vishnu passed slowly, his eyes finding Devika through the open door. The hunger in his expression was unmistakable.
"There goes your loving son," Saradha murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "The one who explored his mother's ass so thoroughly."
"Stop it!" Devika hissed, swatting at Saradha's arm. "This is your fault anyway, always pushing me to—"
"My fault?" Saradha interrupted. "I told you to tease, not fuck!"
"You told me to embrace male attention. To use my body as power."
"Not to spread your legs for every man who looked at you twice!"
They glared at each other for a heated moment before the absurdity hit them both. Devika felt laughter bubbling up despite everything—bitter, half-hysterical laughter that spilled out in quiet gasps.
"This is impossible," she whispered. "All of it."
"You created this mess," Saradha pointed out. "Now you have to deal with it."
"How? How do I deal with this?"
Saradha's expression softened slightly. "Stay away from them. Both of them. Don't go back to that apartment, don't respond to calls or messages. Eventually they'll understand you're serious."
"And if they don't?"
"Then you'll have to make harder choices." Saradha's voice turned grave. "Report them maybe. Or leave Pune entirely."
The thought of leaving made Devika's chest tighten with unexpected resistance. Despite everything—the harassment, the guilt, the impossible complications—Pune had become something to her. A place where she could be someone other than the neglected wife waiting for scraps of attention from Dubai.
"I can't leave," she said quietly.
"Then you need to be stronger than you've been." Saradha reached across the space between them, squeezing Devika's hand briefly. "No more weakness. No more allowing men to seduce you with a few compliments."
Devika nodded, though doubt gnawed at her resolve.
Through the staff room window, she could see students milling about the courtyard. Vishnu stood among them, talking with Pathan, his eyes occasionally drifting toward the building where Devika sat.
Watching. Waiting.
Remembering.
"I should get back to work," Devika murmured, pulling her hand away from Saradha's grasp.
"Be careful," Saradha warned. "These men won't forget what you gave them so easily. They'll push for more."
"I know."
But as Devika gathered her things and prepared to face the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable truth lodged in her chest like a splinter:
Part of her wanted them to push.
Part of her wanted to surrender again.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
But as she moved through her apartment, gathering her teaching materials, she felt it.
The phantom sensation of Vishnu's fingers. There. Inside her. Exploring territory she'd never offered to anyone, not even her husband of years. The memory made her pause mid-step, books clutched against her chest, breath catching in her throat.
"Stop," she whispered to the empty room. "Just stop thinking about it."
The auto-rickshaw ride to college passed in a blur of self-recrimination and conflicting physical sensations. Every bump in the road sent awareness rippling through her body, reminding her how thoroughly she'd been taken. How completely she'd surrendered.
By the time she reached the biology department, Devika had constructed a fragile wall of professional composure. This was just another day. Another lecture. She would walk into that classroom, teach mitosis and meiosis, and absolutely not think about the student in the back row who had—
No. Not thinking about it.
The lecture hall felt smaller somehow as she entered, the familiar rows of desks suddenly intimate and claustrophobic. Students shuffled papers and opened notebooks, their faces showing the typical blend of boredom and mild curiosity that greeted Monday morning classes.
Devika set her materials on the desk, adjusting her saree with hands that trembled slightly. When she finally raised her eyes to scan the room, her gaze snagged immediately on Vishnu.
Last row. Left side. Watching her with an expression that made her stomach clench.
His eyes held hunger, yes—that predatory gleam she'd seen before. But something else lurked there too. Recognition. Possession. A knowing smile that said I've been inside you. I know exactly what you sound like when you come.
Devika's fingers tightened on the chalk.
"Today we'll continue our discussion of cellular reproduction," she began, voice steadier than she'd expected. "Please turn to chapter twelve in your textbooks."
She taught. Explained diagrams. Answered questions about chromosome division and genetic variation. Through it all, she felt Vishnu's stare like a physical touch, sliding along her exposed waist where her saree sat, tracing the curves he'd explored with both hands and mouth just hours ago.
She ignored him.
Didn't meet his eyes. Didn't acknowledge the intensity of his focus. Pretended he was just another student among many, unremarkable and forgettable.
Vishnu's smile faded gradually, replaced by confusion. He shifted in his seat, clearly thrown by her distance. Yesterday she'd played his mother, kissed him with desperate passion, allowed him to violate her most private places. Today she wouldn't even look at him.
But he didn't react. Didn't call out or make a scene. Vishnu understood women well enough to recognize the guilt phase—the morning-after retreat that often followed bold choices made in darkness and desire.
He could wait.
Pathan, seated nearby, simply watched Devika's curves with his usual crude appreciation, oblivious to the charged silence between his friend and their teacher.
The class ended eventually. Students filed out in their typical chaos of scbanging chairs and shuffled papers. Devika busied herself erasing the board, back turned deliberately as Vishnu lingered near the door for several long seconds before finally leaving.
Only when the room emptied completely did she allow herself to breathe.
The staff room felt like sanctuary during lunch hour—or would have, if not for the conversation she needed to have.
Saradha sat at her usual spot near the window, eating homemade dosa from a steel tiffin container. She looked up as Devika approached, eyebrows raising slightly at whatever expression showed on Devika's face.
"Saradha..." Devika hesitated, lowering her voice despite the relative privacy. "Do you have time? I need to talk."
"Of course." Saradha set aside her food, attention sharpening. "What happened?"
Devika sank into the adjacent chair, fingers twisting in her saree's pallu. How did one even begin this confession?
"I had sex," she said finally, the words emerging barely above a whisper.
Saradha blinked. "What?"
"Real sex. The first time since coming to Pune."
"With Seenu?" Saradha leaned forward, eyes widening. "You finally—"
"No." Devika shook her head quickly. "Not Seenu."
"Then who?" Saradha's voice dropped to match Devika's hushed tone, curiosity blazing across her features.
Devika's throat worked silently for several seconds. She forced herself to meet Saradha's eyes. "Vishnu."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with shock.
"Vishnu?" Saradha repeated, as if testing the name for accuracy. "Your student Vishnu? Pathan's friend?"
"Yes."
"But... I told you to seduce them, Devika. Tease them. Keep them hungry but controlled." Saradha's expression shifted from shock to something approaching alarm. "Not to actually—"
"I know what you said." Devika's voice carried a sharp edge. "I always wanted to follow your advice. Seduce men, keep them under control, never lose power. But that night..." She trailed off, shame coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't control it. I allowed Vishnu to take me."
Saradha stared, clearly struggling to process this information. The careful manipulation she'd been coaching Devika toward had apparently exploded into something far messier.
"There's more," Devika continued, each word feeling like pulling teeth.
"More?"
"Not only Vishnu. There was another man."
Saradha's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Who?"
"Dattu."
The name hung in the air like an accusation.
"Dattu?" Saradha repeated blankly. "I don't know any Dattu at the college—"
"He's not at the college. He's..." Devika felt moisture prickling behind her eyes, threatening to spill over. "He's a mechanic. Old. And he's Vishnu's father."
The shock on Saradha's face deepened to something approaching horror. "Wait. You're telling me you had sex with a student and his father? An old mechanic?"
Devika nodded miserably.
"At the same time?"
Another nod.
"Devika..." Saradha sat back in her chair, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "I can't believe this. You—the proper Kerala professor—slept with both of them?"
"Please don't—" Devika's voice cracked. "Don't say it like that."
But Saradha's mind was clearly racing, putting pieces together. "Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning."
Devika drew a shaky breath. "Vishnu stopped coming to class for several days. When I checked on him, he said his father wouldn't allow him to continue college. Dattu—his father—had started drinking heavily again after his wife's death. He wanted Vishnu to quit studies and get a job."
Saradha listened silently, her lunch forgotten.
"I went to talk to Dattu. To convince him to let Vishnu return." Devika's fingers twisted harder in the saree fabric. "He was grief-stricken, drowning in alcohol and memories. I made a deal—I'd visit him on weekends to help with his drinking if he allowed Vishnu to continue his education."
"You visited this old mechanic?" Saradha's tone held disbelief. "Alone?"
"Yes. A few times. Just to talk, serve him tea. I thought I was helping."
"And then?"
"Then Vishnu called. Said it was Dattu's birthday, asked me to come celebrate." Devika's voice dropped lower. "When I arrived, there was no party. No guests. Just the two of them."
Understanding dawned in Saradha's eyes.
"I knew why they'd called me," Devika admitted. "I'm not stupid. But with all the fighting with Rajeevan, with his cheating... I wanted company. Someone who made me feel desired instead of disposable."
"So you stayed."
"I stayed."
The confession settled between them like a stone.
Saradha shook her head slowly. "Lucky Pune guys. Getting a young, educated Malayali woman like you."
"Don't mock me," Devika protested weakly.
"I'm not mocking. I'm amazed." Saradha's expression shifted to something more complex—disapproval mixed with grudging admiration. "Did you like it? The moment itself?"
Heat flooded Devika's face. "I... yes. But afterward, the guilt—"
"Because of your husband?"
"Because of my husband. My family. Everything I was raised to believe."
Saradha's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Stop thinking about that cheating bastard in Dubai. He's fucking other women while you sit here drowning in guilt. You're free now, Devika. Free to do whatever you want."
The words hit harder than expected, forcing a small smile through Devika's distress.
"I still can't believe it," Saradha murmured. "A wealthy, educated Kerala woman sleeping with both a student and his mechanic father. It's like something from those trashy novels."
"Please don't say it like that—"
"Did you like Dattu?" The question cut through Devika's protest.
Devika blinked, thrown by the shift. "What?"
"I mean when you slept with him. How was it?"
"I'm shy to tell—"
"Tell me anyway."
Devika's throat worked silently. "He's old. His skin is wrinkled, belly soft with age. But his..." She struggled with the word.
"What?"
"His dick." The crude term felt foreign on her tongue. "It's strong. Big. Tight inside me."
Saradha's eyebrows shot up.
The conversation was simulating Devika in ways she hadn't expected. She'd come seeking advice to escape this situation, but talking about it openly made everything feel more real and somehow more arousing.
"Bigger than your husband?" Saradha pressed.
Devika laughed despite herself—a sharp, bitter sound. "I thought Rajeevan was big. Until I felt Dattu inside me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt like a virgin again. He filled me completely."
Both women laughed then, the sound carrying an edge of hysteria.
"Did you suck their dicks?" Saradha asked, shameless in her curiosity.
Devika nodded, cheeks burning.
"Both of them are lucky," Saradha breathed. "Feeling your tongue on their precum-filled cocks."
The explicit language should have shocked Devika. Instead, she felt her body responding with treacherous heat.
"Saradha..." She hesitated. "Have you ever experienced anal sex?"
Saradha shook her head. "Never. Only seen it in adult movies. Why—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Did they take your ass too?"
"No," Devika said quickly. Then, after a pause: "But Vishnu fingered me there. First one finger. Then two. Then three."
The shock on Saradha's face was almost comical.
"You let him explore your ass?" Saradha's voice rose slightly before she remembered to keep quiet. "Devika, don't you understand what they're doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"They're training you." Saradha leaned forward urgently. "Preparing you for anal sex. They won't leave you alone until they've taken that virginity too."
"No." Devika shook her head firmly. "It won't happen again."
"You don't know these Pune men like I do." Saradha's expression turned grim. "They won't stop until they've made you their regular fucking partner. And next time..." She paused for emphasis. "Next time they'll try to double penetrate you."
"Double penetrate?" Devika's voice came out strangled.
"One in your pussy, one in your ass. At the same time."
The image sent a confusing jolt through Devika's body—part horror, part unwanted arousal.
"Do you want to enjoy them again?" Saradha asked bluntly.
"Strict no," Devika insisted. "Absolutely not."
Movement in the hallway caught Saradha's attention. Her gaze shifted to the staff room entrance where Vishnu passed slowly, his eyes finding Devika through the open door. The hunger in his expression was unmistakable.
"There goes your loving son," Saradha murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "The one who explored his mother's ass so thoroughly."
"Stop it!" Devika hissed, swatting at Saradha's arm. "This is your fault anyway, always pushing me to—"
"My fault?" Saradha interrupted. "I told you to tease, not fuck!"
"You told me to embrace male attention. To use my body as power."
"Not to spread your legs for every man who looked at you twice!"
They glared at each other for a heated moment before the absurdity hit them both. Devika felt laughter bubbling up despite everything—bitter, half-hysterical laughter that spilled out in quiet gasps.
"This is impossible," she whispered. "All of it."
"You created this mess," Saradha pointed out. "Now you have to deal with it."
"How? How do I deal with this?"
Saradha's expression softened slightly. "Stay away from them. Both of them. Don't go back to that apartment, don't respond to calls or messages. Eventually they'll understand you're serious."
"And if they don't?"
"Then you'll have to make harder choices." Saradha's voice turned grave. "Report them maybe. Or leave Pune entirely."
The thought of leaving made Devika's chest tighten with unexpected resistance. Despite everything—the harassment, the guilt, the impossible complications—Pune had become something to her. A place where she could be someone other than the neglected wife waiting for scraps of attention from Dubai.
"I can't leave," she said quietly.
"Then you need to be stronger than you've been." Saradha reached across the space between them, squeezing Devika's hand briefly. "No more weakness. No more allowing men to seduce you with a few compliments."
Devika nodded, though doubt gnawed at her resolve.
Through the staff room window, she could see students milling about the courtyard. Vishnu stood among them, talking with Pathan, his eyes occasionally drifting toward the building where Devika sat.
Watching. Waiting.
Remembering.
"I should get back to work," Devika murmured, pulling her hand away from Saradha's grasp.
"Be careful," Saradha warned. "These men won't forget what you gave them so easily. They'll push for more."
"I know."
But as Devika gathered her things and prepared to face the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable truth lodged in her chest like a splinter:
Part of her wanted them to push.
Part of her wanted to surrender again.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
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