23-02-2026, 11:21 PM
Chapter 137 – Vikram punishes Mirna.
Chennai – Guest Room – 11:35 PM
Mirnaa lay motionless for several long seconds after the door slammed shut.
The room was still beautifully decorated — rose petals scattered across the sheets, fairy lights twinkling softly, the brass lamp casting a warm golden glow. But it all felt grotesque now. The air smelled of jasmine, honey, and sex. Her body was still humming — pussy swollen, slick, aching from the sudden emptiness.
Bharath’s thick cock had been halfway inside her, stretching her, teasing her, promising to fill her completely… and then it was gone.
She slowly sat up. Legs shaky. Pussy still throbbing, aching from the sudden emptiness. His precum mixed with her own wetness leaked slowly from her entrance, trailing in a thin, glistening line down her inner thigh.
She stared at it — the evidence of how close she had come to giving herself to him.
She stood. Naked. Walked to the door on unsteady legs. Saw her bra discarded near the threshold, her saree crumpled halfway down the hall — every piece of clothing a silent accusation. The scattered trail mocked her: the woman who had let herself be undressed piece by piece, who had begged him to take her.
She walked down the steps, bare feet cold on the marble, and entered the master bedroom.
Vikram was sitting on the edge of the bed
He looked up at her — calm, steady, no judgment in his eyes.
Came soon why ?
“Did you find out he didn’t love you?”
Mirnaa looked at him — tears flooding down her face, body trembling, still naked, still leaking.
“I’m sorry…”
She knelt on the floor in front of him.
Hands clasped together in front of her face — submissive, broken, ashamed.
Vikram rose. Took her arms.
Gently pulled her up.
Hugged her tight against his chest — one hand cradling the back of her head, the other around her waist,
pressing her naked body to his clothed one.
“All right,” he said softly. “I still love you.”
He held her while she cried — raw, wrenching sobs shaking her whole body.
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in her world.
Then he pulled back slightly — looked into her eyes.
“Now tell me… who really loved you?”
She cried louder — voice hoarse, broken.
“You…”
Vikram’s voice stayed calm.
“But for disobeying, for distrusting me,
for behaving in a way that broke our marriage…
I need to punish you.”
Mirnaa looked up — eyes red, but steady.
“Do whatever you want to do with me. Even if you throw me out, I will accept.”
Vikram pushed her forcibly onto the bed.
My punishment is different...
“I’ve always been soft with you. Now you’ve been trained.
Let me unleash my skill.”
He spread her legs wide. Entered her in one hard, deep push — thick,
claiming, stretching her still-sensitive pussy in a single thrust.
Mirnaa gasped — pain and pleasure crashing together,
body still slick from Bharath’s precum.
He smiled — dark, possessive.
“Where was this Vikram all these years?” he mind said...
She was still not believing vikram punishment all about this
Vikram opened: See you no need to find love out side and even sex when you have me..
He began to move — slow at first, deliberate, letting her feel every thick inch sliding in and out of her still-sensitive pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of their joining filled the room immediately — slick flesh slapping softly, her arousal coating him, dripping down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. Mirnaa moaned — low, broken, voice cracking on every deep thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into his skin as her body jolted beneath him.
Vikram’s pace quickened — harder, deeper, relentless. Each powerful stroke drove the air from her lungs, made her breasts bounce wildly, nipples stiff and dark against his chest. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other sliding down to grip her hip, angling her so he hit that spot inside her that made her gasp and arch.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough, almost a growl.
Mirnaa’s eyes fluttered open — glassy, tear-streaked, pupils blown wide with pleasure and shame. He leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
“I always feared hurting you,” he murmured, thrusting particularly deep, making her cry out. “
Now I see you can sustain. Get ready to learn from me.”
He fucked her for nearly an hour like that — unyielding, possessive rhythm. Slow grinds turning into brutal slams. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically, milking him, betraying how badly her body wanted this even as her mind reeled. She came twice — the first one sudden and shattering, thighs shaking, a keening sob tearing from her throat as she called his name. The second was slower, deeper, rolling through her like a wave until she was trembling, oversensitive, begging incoherently.
Then he pulled out — cock glistening, veins pulsing — and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion.
“On your knees.”
She obeyed instantly — ass raised high, face pressed into the pillow, back arched in offering. Vikram knelt behind her, spread her cheeks wide with both hands. He spat directly onto her tight, puckered asshole — warm and slick. Mirnaa whimpered, body tensing.
He pushed two fingers inside first — no preamble, stretching her slowly but firmly.
The burn was immediate, sharp.
She cried out into the pillow.
“Vikram… it hurts…”
He didn’t stop. He worked his fingers deeper, scissoring gently, opening her. When she was panting, trembling, he replaced them with the blunt head of his cock. He pushed — slow, relentless, inexorable.
The thick crown breached her ass, stretching her impossibly.
Mirnaa sobbed — real pain now, tears soaking the fabric beneath her cheek.
“Breathe,” he commanded, voice low and dark. “Take it for me.”
He sank in deeper — inch by burning inch — until his hips pressed flush against her ass. She was shaking, whimpering, body fighting the intrusion even as her pussy clenched emptily below. Vikram gripped her hips hard enough to bruise — fresh red marks blooming on her golden skin — and started fucking her ass with deep, steady thrusts.
Each stroke dragged a new cry from her throat. Pain slowly, treacherously, began mixing with dark, forbidden pleasure. Her body learned him — adjusted, opened, took him. He leaned over her, chest to her back, one hand sliding around to rub furious circles on her clit.
“Who loves you?” he growled against her ear, hips snapping harder. “Remember who loves you.”
She sobbed, voice muffled in the pillow.
“You… you…”
“Say my name.”
“Vikram… Vikram… please…”
He fucked her harder — punishing, claiming her completely. Her ass clenched around him rhythmically, milking him even as tears streamed down her face. She came like that — ass impaled, clit throbbing under his fingers — a violent, shaking orgasm that left her screaming his name into the sheets.
After another hour of relentless anal he pulled out — cock slick and shining — and flipped her again. Prone bone. He lay fully on top of her, heavy, chest to her back, weight pinning her to the mattress. He slid back into her pussy in one long stroke — deeper angle now, every thrust grinding against her cervix.
He fucked her like that — slow, grinding rolls of his hips that pressed her clit against the bed, forcing friction with every movement. His mouth found the side of her neck — biting, sucking, leaving dark purple marks that would bloom into bruises by morning. Fresh claim marks on her throat, her shoulders, the tops of her breasts — territory reclaimed.
“Who loves you?” he repeated, voice rough, breath hot against her ear.
“Vikram… only Vikram…”
She came again — screaming his name, body convulsing beneath him, inner walls fluttering wildly around his cock. He didn’t stop. He kept going — heavy, grinding thrusts that dragged out her pleasure until she was sobbing, oversensitive, begging.
“Please… Vikram… too much…”
He kissed the tears from her cheek.
“You can take it. You’re always mine.”
They fucked for nearly four hours straight — switching positions, holes, rhythms. He came inside her pussy twice — hot, thick pulses that overflowed and leaked down her thighs. Once in her ass — deep, claiming spurts that made her whimper. Once across her breasts — painting her skin with white ropes that glistened in the lamplight.
By the end they were both breathless, sweat-soaked, exhausted. Mirnaa lay sprawled on her back — legs still spread, body marked with bites, handprints, cum, tears. Her pussy and ass were swollen, red, leaking. Vikram collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She curled against his chest — completely surrendered, trembling, whispering his name like a prayer.
“Vikram… only you…”
He held her tight — breathing hard, heart pounding against hers.
He felt a breath of relief finally.
He posssively kissed her forehead..
He finally felt fine.
He just wished he could come clean before her soon. It was crucial after this. He knew it.
But he also knew he had to wait — until Bharath fully took his bait with Manya.
He knows the game had not ended, it will end only when he comes clean to mirna.. only when he stay away from dark network.
For now Vikram won, the punishment he have wont be unforgettable.
Chennai – Guest Room – 11:35 PM
Mirnaa lay motionless for several long seconds after the door slammed shut.
The room was still beautifully decorated — rose petals scattered across the sheets, fairy lights twinkling softly, the brass lamp casting a warm golden glow. But it all felt grotesque now. The air smelled of jasmine, honey, and sex. Her body was still humming — pussy swollen, slick, aching from the sudden emptiness.
Bharath’s thick cock had been halfway inside her, stretching her, teasing her, promising to fill her completely… and then it was gone.
She slowly sat up. Legs shaky. Pussy still throbbing, aching from the sudden emptiness. His precum mixed with her own wetness leaked slowly from her entrance, trailing in a thin, glistening line down her inner thigh.
She stared at it — the evidence of how close she had come to giving herself to him.
She stood. Naked. Walked to the door on unsteady legs. Saw her bra discarded near the threshold, her saree crumpled halfway down the hall — every piece of clothing a silent accusation. The scattered trail mocked her: the woman who had let herself be undressed piece by piece, who had begged him to take her.
She walked down the steps, bare feet cold on the marble, and entered the master bedroom.
Vikram was sitting on the edge of the bed
He looked up at her — calm, steady, no judgment in his eyes.
Came soon why ?
“Did you find out he didn’t love you?”
Mirnaa looked at him — tears flooding down her face, body trembling, still naked, still leaking.
“I’m sorry…”
She knelt on the floor in front of him.
Hands clasped together in front of her face — submissive, broken, ashamed.
Vikram rose. Took her arms.
Gently pulled her up.
Hugged her tight against his chest — one hand cradling the back of her head, the other around her waist,
pressing her naked body to his clothed one.
“All right,” he said softly. “I still love you.”
He held her while she cried — raw, wrenching sobs shaking her whole body.
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in her world.
Then he pulled back slightly — looked into her eyes.
“Now tell me… who really loved you?”
She cried louder — voice hoarse, broken.
“You…”
Vikram’s voice stayed calm.
“But for disobeying, for distrusting me,
for behaving in a way that broke our marriage…
I need to punish you.”
Mirnaa looked up — eyes red, but steady.
“Do whatever you want to do with me. Even if you throw me out, I will accept.”
Vikram pushed her forcibly onto the bed.
My punishment is different...
“I’ve always been soft with you. Now you’ve been trained.
Let me unleash my skill.”
He spread her legs wide. Entered her in one hard, deep push — thick,
claiming, stretching her still-sensitive pussy in a single thrust.
Mirnaa gasped — pain and pleasure crashing together,
body still slick from Bharath’s precum.
He smiled — dark, possessive.
“Where was this Vikram all these years?” he mind said...
She was still not believing vikram punishment all about this
Vikram opened: See you no need to find love out side and even sex when you have me..
He began to move — slow at first, deliberate, letting her feel every thick inch sliding in and out of her still-sensitive pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of their joining filled the room immediately — slick flesh slapping softly, her arousal coating him, dripping down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. Mirnaa moaned — low, broken, voice cracking on every deep thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into his skin as her body jolted beneath him.
Vikram’s pace quickened — harder, deeper, relentless. Each powerful stroke drove the air from her lungs, made her breasts bounce wildly, nipples stiff and dark against his chest. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other sliding down to grip her hip, angling her so he hit that spot inside her that made her gasp and arch.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough, almost a growl.
Mirnaa’s eyes fluttered open — glassy, tear-streaked, pupils blown wide with pleasure and shame. He leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
“I always feared hurting you,” he murmured, thrusting particularly deep, making her cry out. “
Now I see you can sustain. Get ready to learn from me.”
He fucked her for nearly an hour like that — unyielding, possessive rhythm. Slow grinds turning into brutal slams. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically, milking him, betraying how badly her body wanted this even as her mind reeled. She came twice — the first one sudden and shattering, thighs shaking, a keening sob tearing from her throat as she called his name. The second was slower, deeper, rolling through her like a wave until she was trembling, oversensitive, begging incoherently.
Then he pulled out — cock glistening, veins pulsing — and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion.
“On your knees.”
She obeyed instantly — ass raised high, face pressed into the pillow, back arched in offering. Vikram knelt behind her, spread her cheeks wide with both hands. He spat directly onto her tight, puckered asshole — warm and slick. Mirnaa whimpered, body tensing.
He pushed two fingers inside first — no preamble, stretching her slowly but firmly.
The burn was immediate, sharp.
She cried out into the pillow.
“Vikram… it hurts…”
He didn’t stop. He worked his fingers deeper, scissoring gently, opening her. When she was panting, trembling, he replaced them with the blunt head of his cock. He pushed — slow, relentless, inexorable.
The thick crown breached her ass, stretching her impossibly.
Mirnaa sobbed — real pain now, tears soaking the fabric beneath her cheek.
“Breathe,” he commanded, voice low and dark. “Take it for me.”
He sank in deeper — inch by burning inch — until his hips pressed flush against her ass. She was shaking, whimpering, body fighting the intrusion even as her pussy clenched emptily below. Vikram gripped her hips hard enough to bruise — fresh red marks blooming on her golden skin — and started fucking her ass with deep, steady thrusts.
Each stroke dragged a new cry from her throat. Pain slowly, treacherously, began mixing with dark, forbidden pleasure. Her body learned him — adjusted, opened, took him. He leaned over her, chest to her back, one hand sliding around to rub furious circles on her clit.
“Who loves you?” he growled against her ear, hips snapping harder. “Remember who loves you.”
She sobbed, voice muffled in the pillow.
“You… you…”
“Say my name.”
“Vikram… Vikram… please…”
He fucked her harder — punishing, claiming her completely. Her ass clenched around him rhythmically, milking him even as tears streamed down her face. She came like that — ass impaled, clit throbbing under his fingers — a violent, shaking orgasm that left her screaming his name into the sheets.
After another hour of relentless anal he pulled out — cock slick and shining — and flipped her again. Prone bone. He lay fully on top of her, heavy, chest to her back, weight pinning her to the mattress. He slid back into her pussy in one long stroke — deeper angle now, every thrust grinding against her cervix.
He fucked her like that — slow, grinding rolls of his hips that pressed her clit against the bed, forcing friction with every movement. His mouth found the side of her neck — biting, sucking, leaving dark purple marks that would bloom into bruises by morning. Fresh claim marks on her throat, her shoulders, the tops of her breasts — territory reclaimed.
“Who loves you?” he repeated, voice rough, breath hot against her ear.
“Vikram… only Vikram…”
She came again — screaming his name, body convulsing beneath him, inner walls fluttering wildly around his cock. He didn’t stop. He kept going — heavy, grinding thrusts that dragged out her pleasure until she was sobbing, oversensitive, begging.
“Please… Vikram… too much…”
He kissed the tears from her cheek.
“You can take it. You’re always mine.”
They fucked for nearly four hours straight — switching positions, holes, rhythms. He came inside her pussy twice — hot, thick pulses that overflowed and leaked down her thighs. Once in her ass — deep, claiming spurts that made her whimper. Once across her breasts — painting her skin with white ropes that glistened in the lamplight.
By the end they were both breathless, sweat-soaked, exhausted. Mirnaa lay sprawled on her back — legs still spread, body marked with bites, handprints, cum, tears. Her pussy and ass were swollen, red, leaking. Vikram collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She curled against his chest — completely surrendered, trembling, whispering his name like a prayer.
“Vikram… only you…”
He held her tight — breathing hard, heart pounding against hers.
He felt a breath of relief finally.
He posssively kissed her forehead..
He finally felt fine.
He just wished he could come clean before her soon. It was crucial after this. He knew it.
But he also knew he had to wait — until Bharath fully took his bait with Manya.
He knows the game had not ended, it will end only when he comes clean to mirna.. only when he stay away from dark network.
For now Vikram won, the punishment he have wont be unforgettable.
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