7 hours ago
**Chapter 4: The Morning That Offered No Escape**
(~4,800 words)
I woke to the feeling of warm skin and the heavy weight of an arm across my waist.
For one blessed second my mind was blank. Then memory crashed over me like cold water. The drug. The bedroom. The endless hours of his 7.5-inch cock pounding into me while I screamed no. The way I had ridden him, hips rolling, orgasms ripping through me even as I begged ,.' to strike me dead. The last thing I remembered was collapsing against his chest, too exhausted to push him away, his cum still leaking out of me.
My eyes flew open.
I was still in Abdullah’s bed. Naked. His arm lay possessively over my hip, fingers splayed across my lower belly. His chest rose and fell against my back. His cock—soft now, but still thick—rested hot and sticky between my thighs, nestled against my swollen, sore folds. Dried cum and blood crusted my inner thighs. The room smelled of sex and sweat and my own shame.
A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.
“Ya ,.'… no… no, this is real…”
I tried to slip out from under his arm. Slowly. Quietly. My legs trembled as I moved. Every muscle ached. My pussy throbbed with raw pain and an unwilling, lingering wetness. I had barely shifted an inch when his arm tightened.
“Where do you think you’re going, chinna?”
His voice was rough with sleep, but the hunger in it was wide awake.
I froze. Tears spilled instantly. “Anna… please… the drug is gone. I am awake. I remember everything. I said no. I begged. I cried. I told you I am married. Let me go home. Ayesha is waiting. My husband will call. This is haram. This is the worst sin. Please… have mercy on your sister.”
He rolled me onto my back in one smooth motion, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. Morning light fell across his face—my brother’s face—dark eyes glittering, jaw set. His cock was already hardening against my thigh, swelling to its full, terrifying 7.5 inches.
“You begged so prettily all night,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “And still you came on my cock more times than I could count. Your married cunt knows who it belongs to now.”
“No—no—no—” I thrashed beneath him, legs kicking uselessly. “I did not want those orgasms! My body betrayed me! I hate it! I hate you for making me feel that! Let go of my hands! Let me up! I am begging you—on Ammi’s life, on my daughter’s life—let me leave this bed!”
He ignored every word. His free hand slid down my body, cupping my breast, pinching the nipple until it peaked. I gasped, turning my face away.
“Stop touching me there! Take your hand off! I am married—my breasts are for my husband only! This is zina! This is incest! Anna, please—stop—stop squeezing—,.' is watching—stop!”
He lowered his head and sucked the nipple into his mouth, hard. I cried out, back arching against my will. The wet heat sent a jolt straight to my core. Fresh tears poured down my temples.
“Don’t suck! Take your mouth away! It hurts—my nipples are sore from last night—please—Anna, I am crying—can’t you see? I do not want this—pull away—let me go home!”
He released the nipple with a wet pop and moved to the other, biting gently. At the same time his thick cock nudged between my thighs, sliding through the mess of our combined fluids. The head caught at my entrance.
I bucked wildly. “No—no—no—do not push inside! I am still bleeding! Still sore! Anna, I beg you—pull back—do not enter your sister again—my husband—my nikah—haram—haram—haram—take it away!”
He pushed.
One slow, relentless thrust and all 7.5 inches sank into me. The stretch was brutal after last night. I screamed, heels digging into the mattress.
“It hurts! Pull out—pull out right now! You are too deep—too thick—my walls are tearing—Anna, please—have mercy—I am your little sister—stop moving—stop thrusting—,.' forgive me—I do not want to feel full like this!”
He started to move—long, deep strokes that dragged every vein along my inner walls. The wet, filthy sound of his cock sliding in and out of my cum-filled pussy filled the room. My breasts bounced with each thrust. He kept my wrists pinned, eyes locked on my tear-streaked face.
“Feel that, Nasreen? Every inch of your brother’s cock back where it belongs.”
“Stop—stop—stop pounding me! I am begging—pull out—do not make me come again—I hate my body—I hate that it gets wet for you—Anna, please—think of your wife—think of my husband—stop—stop—stop!”
But my traitorous pussy was already fluttering around him. The thick head battered that sensitive spot with every thrust. My clit ground against his pubic bone. Pleasure coiled low and hot despite every scream.
I came within minutes—hard, sudden, humiliating. My walls clamped down, milking him. Juices gushed around his shaft. I screamed his name through sobs.
“No—no—I’m coming—I’m coming on my brother’s cock again—,.', no—stop—stop—don’t let me—pull out—please!”
He didn’t stop. He kept pounding—relentless, deep, powerful. The bed slammed against the wall. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my breasts. I lost count again. Second orgasm. Third. Each one tore another broken sob from me.
“Anna… mercy… I can’t… too many… my pussy is burning… please… let me rest… I am married… this is sin… stop filling me…”
He suddenly pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips up. I tried to crawl away. He caught my ankles, dragged me back, and slammed back inside from behind.
“No—no—from behind is worse—too deep—Anna, I beg you—do not fuck me like an animal—pull out—let me go—I am crying into the pillow—please—stop thrusting so hard—my cervix—stop hitting it—haram—haram—”
He fucked me harder—hips snapping, balls slapping my clit. One hand reached under and rubbed my swollen nub in tight circles. I came again—squirting onto the sheets, thighs shaking violently. My voice cracked into hoarse whimpers.
“Four… five… I don’t know anymore… Anna, please… I am going to die… no more… let me go home to Ayesha… my daughter… my husband… stop—stop—stop coming inside me—”
He growled, buried himself to the hilt, and came—hot, thick ropes flooding my womb again. I felt every spurt. My body answered with one final helpless orgasm, pussy fluttering, drawing out every drop.
When he finally pulled out, a flood of cum poured down my thighs. I collapsed flat on my stomach, sobbing uncontrollably, face buried in the pillow.
“Anna… you bangd me again… in the morning… after I begged… I am ruined… how will I face my husband… how will I pray… please… let me leave… I will never speak of this… just let me go…”
He lay beside me, pulled me into his arms despite my weak struggles. I was too exhausted to fight. My head fell against his chest. His hand stroked my tangled hair.
“Shh. You’re staying until I say you can leave.”
I cried harder. “No… please… Ayesha… Ammi will worry… I have to pick her up… Anna, I am begging… let me go home…”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll drive you home later. After breakfast. After I’ve had you one more time.”
My stomach dropped. “No… no more… I cannot… my body cannot take more… please…”
But he was already hard again.
He made me straddle him once more—my first time riding in daylight, fully awake, fully aware. I sat there trembling, his 7.5-inch cock standing thick and glistening between us, cum from the previous round still leaking out of me and dripping onto his shaft.
“I will not ride you,” I whispered, voice raw. “I will not move. I refuse. This is my body saying no.”
He gripped my hips and lowered me anyway. The stretch made me gasp. He was so deep in this position. I could feel the head pressing against my cervix.
“Move, Nasreen.”
I shook my head, tears falling onto his chest. “No. I am not riding my brother. I am married. I will sit here and do nothing. Pull me off. Let me go.”
He thrust up from below—hard, sudden. My body bounced. A moan escaped before I could bite it back. He did it again. And again. My hips began to roll despite every prayer I whispered.
“No—no—stop thrusting up—make me stop moving—Anna, please—I am not doing this willingly—my hips are betraying me—stop—stop—I am coming again—,.', no—don’t let me come while riding you—pull me off—please—”
I came—hard—pussy clenching, gushing down his cock. I kept moving, hips circling, rising and falling, because he wouldn’t let me stop. Another orgasm. Another. My breasts bounced heavily. Sweat ran between them. I was sobbing openly now.
“Six… seven… I lost count again… Anna, mercy… my thighs are burning… I cannot ride anymore… let me lie down… I beg you… I am your sister… this is the worst haram… stop making me fuck you…”
He sat up, wrapped his arms around me, and took over—thrusting up into me while I sat impaled, helpless. He came deep inside me again, groaning my name. I felt the heat flood me, triggering one last shattering orgasm. I screamed into his shoulder, nails digging into his back.
When it was over I collapsed against him, completely spent, chest heaving, tears soaking his skin. My pussy still fluttered around his softening cock. Cum leaked out around the base, running down his balls.
I whispered, voice almost gone, “Anna… please… no more… I am broken… let me go home… I will never tell… just let me leave…”
He held me for long minutes, stroking my back. Then he carried me to the shower.
I tried to push him away when he stepped in with me. “No—no—do not wash me—do not touch me—Anna, I am begging—let me shower alone—cover yourself—please—”
He ignored me. He soaped my body slowly, fingers sliding between my legs, cleaning the mess he had made. His cock hardened again against my belly. He pressed me against the cold tiles and entered me from behind—slow, deep strokes while the water beat down on us.
“No—no—not in the shower—Anna, stop—my legs are shaking—I cannot stand—pull out—please—do not come inside me again—I am too sore—haram—haram—haram—”
I came twice more—weak, exhausted orgasms that left me sagging in his arms. He finished inside me, groaning, then washed me gently, almost tenderly, kissing the bruises he had left on my hips.
After the shower he dressed me in one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else. He made me sit at the dining table while he cooked omelettes. Every time I tried to stand he pushed me back down.
“Anna… I need to go home. Ayesha. My phone—my husband may have called. Please… let me leave.”
He set a plate in front of me. “Eat. Then I’ll drive you.”
I ate with shaking hands, tears dripping onto the food. When I finished he pulled me onto his lap, facing him, and slid inside me again—slow, lazy thrusts while I sat there crying.
“No—no—not at the table—Anna, please—stop moving inside me—let me get up—I am begging—my daughter is waiting—stop—stop—I am coming again—,.', no—stop making me come on your lap—”
I came once more—small, shuddering—before he filled me again.
Only then did he let me dress in my salwar kameez. He drove me home in silence. When we reached my building he parked and turned to me.
“I have a video, Nasreen. From last night. You riding me. You screaming my name while you came. You begging for more even while you cried. If you tell anyone—if you try to stay away—I will send it to Ammi. To your husband. To the family group. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, fresh tears falling. “You recorded me… while I was begging you to stop… You are evil… I am married… this is blackmail… but I will not come to you again. I will pray. I will fast. ,.' will protect me. I will never let you touch me again.”
He smiled, leaned over, and kissed my forehead. “We’ll see, chinna. Tomorrow afternoon. Same time. Or the video goes out.”
I stumbled out of the car, legs weak, pussy still leaking his cum into my panties. I climbed the stairs to Ammi’s flat to collect Ayesha, every step a reminder of what he had done to me.
I was still crying when Ammi opened the door.
But inside my chest, beneath the shame and the terror and the endless pleas to ,.', a small, treacherous voice whispered that tomorrow… tomorrow he would come again.
And I did not know if I would have the strength left to say no.
(~4,800 words)
I woke to the feeling of warm skin and the heavy weight of an arm across my waist.
For one blessed second my mind was blank. Then memory crashed over me like cold water. The drug. The bedroom. The endless hours of his 7.5-inch cock pounding into me while I screamed no. The way I had ridden him, hips rolling, orgasms ripping through me even as I begged ,.' to strike me dead. The last thing I remembered was collapsing against his chest, too exhausted to push him away, his cum still leaking out of me.
My eyes flew open.
I was still in Abdullah’s bed. Naked. His arm lay possessively over my hip, fingers splayed across my lower belly. His chest rose and fell against my back. His cock—soft now, but still thick—rested hot and sticky between my thighs, nestled against my swollen, sore folds. Dried cum and blood crusted my inner thighs. The room smelled of sex and sweat and my own shame.
A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.
“Ya ,.'… no… no, this is real…”
I tried to slip out from under his arm. Slowly. Quietly. My legs trembled as I moved. Every muscle ached. My pussy throbbed with raw pain and an unwilling, lingering wetness. I had barely shifted an inch when his arm tightened.
“Where do you think you’re going, chinna?”
His voice was rough with sleep, but the hunger in it was wide awake.
I froze. Tears spilled instantly. “Anna… please… the drug is gone. I am awake. I remember everything. I said no. I begged. I cried. I told you I am married. Let me go home. Ayesha is waiting. My husband will call. This is haram. This is the worst sin. Please… have mercy on your sister.”
He rolled me onto my back in one smooth motion, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. Morning light fell across his face—my brother’s face—dark eyes glittering, jaw set. His cock was already hardening against my thigh, swelling to its full, terrifying 7.5 inches.
“You begged so prettily all night,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “And still you came on my cock more times than I could count. Your married cunt knows who it belongs to now.”
“No—no—no—” I thrashed beneath him, legs kicking uselessly. “I did not want those orgasms! My body betrayed me! I hate it! I hate you for making me feel that! Let go of my hands! Let me up! I am begging you—on Ammi’s life, on my daughter’s life—let me leave this bed!”
He ignored every word. His free hand slid down my body, cupping my breast, pinching the nipple until it peaked. I gasped, turning my face away.
“Stop touching me there! Take your hand off! I am married—my breasts are for my husband only! This is zina! This is incest! Anna, please—stop—stop squeezing—,.' is watching—stop!”
He lowered his head and sucked the nipple into his mouth, hard. I cried out, back arching against my will. The wet heat sent a jolt straight to my core. Fresh tears poured down my temples.
“Don’t suck! Take your mouth away! It hurts—my nipples are sore from last night—please—Anna, I am crying—can’t you see? I do not want this—pull away—let me go home!”
He released the nipple with a wet pop and moved to the other, biting gently. At the same time his thick cock nudged between my thighs, sliding through the mess of our combined fluids. The head caught at my entrance.
I bucked wildly. “No—no—no—do not push inside! I am still bleeding! Still sore! Anna, I beg you—pull back—do not enter your sister again—my husband—my nikah—haram—haram—haram—take it away!”
He pushed.
One slow, relentless thrust and all 7.5 inches sank into me. The stretch was brutal after last night. I screamed, heels digging into the mattress.
“It hurts! Pull out—pull out right now! You are too deep—too thick—my walls are tearing—Anna, please—have mercy—I am your little sister—stop moving—stop thrusting—,.' forgive me—I do not want to feel full like this!”
He started to move—long, deep strokes that dragged every vein along my inner walls. The wet, filthy sound of his cock sliding in and out of my cum-filled pussy filled the room. My breasts bounced with each thrust. He kept my wrists pinned, eyes locked on my tear-streaked face.
“Feel that, Nasreen? Every inch of your brother’s cock back where it belongs.”
“Stop—stop—stop pounding me! I am begging—pull out—do not make me come again—I hate my body—I hate that it gets wet for you—Anna, please—think of your wife—think of my husband—stop—stop—stop!”
But my traitorous pussy was already fluttering around him. The thick head battered that sensitive spot with every thrust. My clit ground against his pubic bone. Pleasure coiled low and hot despite every scream.
I came within minutes—hard, sudden, humiliating. My walls clamped down, milking him. Juices gushed around his shaft. I screamed his name through sobs.
“No—no—I’m coming—I’m coming on my brother’s cock again—,.', no—stop—stop—don’t let me—pull out—please!”
He didn’t stop. He kept pounding—relentless, deep, powerful. The bed slammed against the wall. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my breasts. I lost count again. Second orgasm. Third. Each one tore another broken sob from me.
“Anna… mercy… I can’t… too many… my pussy is burning… please… let me rest… I am married… this is sin… stop filling me…”
He suddenly pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips up. I tried to crawl away. He caught my ankles, dragged me back, and slammed back inside from behind.
“No—no—from behind is worse—too deep—Anna, I beg you—do not fuck me like an animal—pull out—let me go—I am crying into the pillow—please—stop thrusting so hard—my cervix—stop hitting it—haram—haram—”
He fucked me harder—hips snapping, balls slapping my clit. One hand reached under and rubbed my swollen nub in tight circles. I came again—squirting onto the sheets, thighs shaking violently. My voice cracked into hoarse whimpers.
“Four… five… I don’t know anymore… Anna, please… I am going to die… no more… let me go home to Ayesha… my daughter… my husband… stop—stop—stop coming inside me—”
He growled, buried himself to the hilt, and came—hot, thick ropes flooding my womb again. I felt every spurt. My body answered with one final helpless orgasm, pussy fluttering, drawing out every drop.
When he finally pulled out, a flood of cum poured down my thighs. I collapsed flat on my stomach, sobbing uncontrollably, face buried in the pillow.
“Anna… you bangd me again… in the morning… after I begged… I am ruined… how will I face my husband… how will I pray… please… let me leave… I will never speak of this… just let me go…”
He lay beside me, pulled me into his arms despite my weak struggles. I was too exhausted to fight. My head fell against his chest. His hand stroked my tangled hair.
“Shh. You’re staying until I say you can leave.”
I cried harder. “No… please… Ayesha… Ammi will worry… I have to pick her up… Anna, I am begging… let me go home…”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll drive you home later. After breakfast. After I’ve had you one more time.”
My stomach dropped. “No… no more… I cannot… my body cannot take more… please…”
But he was already hard again.
He made me straddle him once more—my first time riding in daylight, fully awake, fully aware. I sat there trembling, his 7.5-inch cock standing thick and glistening between us, cum from the previous round still leaking out of me and dripping onto his shaft.
“I will not ride you,” I whispered, voice raw. “I will not move. I refuse. This is my body saying no.”
He gripped my hips and lowered me anyway. The stretch made me gasp. He was so deep in this position. I could feel the head pressing against my cervix.
“Move, Nasreen.”
I shook my head, tears falling onto his chest. “No. I am not riding my brother. I am married. I will sit here and do nothing. Pull me off. Let me go.”
He thrust up from below—hard, sudden. My body bounced. A moan escaped before I could bite it back. He did it again. And again. My hips began to roll despite every prayer I whispered.
“No—no—stop thrusting up—make me stop moving—Anna, please—I am not doing this willingly—my hips are betraying me—stop—stop—I am coming again—,.', no—don’t let me come while riding you—pull me off—please—”
I came—hard—pussy clenching, gushing down his cock. I kept moving, hips circling, rising and falling, because he wouldn’t let me stop. Another orgasm. Another. My breasts bounced heavily. Sweat ran between them. I was sobbing openly now.
“Six… seven… I lost count again… Anna, mercy… my thighs are burning… I cannot ride anymore… let me lie down… I beg you… I am your sister… this is the worst haram… stop making me fuck you…”
He sat up, wrapped his arms around me, and took over—thrusting up into me while I sat impaled, helpless. He came deep inside me again, groaning my name. I felt the heat flood me, triggering one last shattering orgasm. I screamed into his shoulder, nails digging into his back.
When it was over I collapsed against him, completely spent, chest heaving, tears soaking his skin. My pussy still fluttered around his softening cock. Cum leaked out around the base, running down his balls.
I whispered, voice almost gone, “Anna… please… no more… I am broken… let me go home… I will never tell… just let me leave…”
He held me for long minutes, stroking my back. Then he carried me to the shower.
I tried to push him away when he stepped in with me. “No—no—do not wash me—do not touch me—Anna, I am begging—let me shower alone—cover yourself—please—”
He ignored me. He soaped my body slowly, fingers sliding between my legs, cleaning the mess he had made. His cock hardened again against my belly. He pressed me against the cold tiles and entered me from behind—slow, deep strokes while the water beat down on us.
“No—no—not in the shower—Anna, stop—my legs are shaking—I cannot stand—pull out—please—do not come inside me again—I am too sore—haram—haram—haram—”
I came twice more—weak, exhausted orgasms that left me sagging in his arms. He finished inside me, groaning, then washed me gently, almost tenderly, kissing the bruises he had left on my hips.
After the shower he dressed me in one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else. He made me sit at the dining table while he cooked omelettes. Every time I tried to stand he pushed me back down.
“Anna… I need to go home. Ayesha. My phone—my husband may have called. Please… let me leave.”
He set a plate in front of me. “Eat. Then I’ll drive you.”
I ate with shaking hands, tears dripping onto the food. When I finished he pulled me onto his lap, facing him, and slid inside me again—slow, lazy thrusts while I sat there crying.
“No—no—not at the table—Anna, please—stop moving inside me—let me get up—I am begging—my daughter is waiting—stop—stop—I am coming again—,.', no—stop making me come on your lap—”
I came once more—small, shuddering—before he filled me again.
Only then did he let me dress in my salwar kameez. He drove me home in silence. When we reached my building he parked and turned to me.
“I have a video, Nasreen. From last night. You riding me. You screaming my name while you came. You begging for more even while you cried. If you tell anyone—if you try to stay away—I will send it to Ammi. To your husband. To the family group. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, fresh tears falling. “You recorded me… while I was begging you to stop… You are evil… I am married… this is blackmail… but I will not come to you again. I will pray. I will fast. ,.' will protect me. I will never let you touch me again.”
He smiled, leaned over, and kissed my forehead. “We’ll see, chinna. Tomorrow afternoon. Same time. Or the video goes out.”
I stumbled out of the car, legs weak, pussy still leaking his cum into my panties. I climbed the stairs to Ammi’s flat to collect Ayesha, every step a reminder of what he had done to me.
I was still crying when Ammi opened the door.
But inside my chest, beneath the shame and the terror and the endless pleas to ,.', a small, treacherous voice whispered that tomorrow… tomorrow he would come again.
And I did not know if I would have the strength left to say no.
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