18-03-2026, 10:35 PM
Chapter 5: Two Mangalsutra Poojas
It was already around 5:00 p.m. Priya was waiting for ravi.
Ravi called Priya from the office around same time.
“Priya, I’ll be a little late. Some work came up. You start the pooja.
Also, did you inform Ambika?
”Priya stood in the middle of her living room, already dressed in saree with jasmine flowers neatly tucked in her braid. The ladies had started arriving all chatting and laughing as they settled down. The puja items were perfectly arranged, the lamp was lit, but the atmosphere felt incomplete.
“I sent her a message this morning,” Priya replied, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment.
“No reply yet.”
Priya felt a small sting of upset. This was supposed to be a special evening for her mangalsutra, and everything was going wrong now even ravi was late and the warmth she had imagined for the pooja was slowly fading.
Ravi paused on the other end,
“Just texting won’t be nice. She came last year, right? Call and check.
Venkatesan is not sure if she’ll come. It’s your special mangalsutra pooja. Call her.”
Priya sighed softly, her shoulders dropping a little.
“Okay… let me call her now.”
She excused herself from the ladies with a polite smile. Her heart felt heavier than it should on such an auspicious day. Ravi wasn’t coming on time, the guests were waiting, and now Ambika — who had always been part of these poojas — was not there. She dialed Ambika’s number, hoping for a quick, positive response.
At that exact moment, in the high-rise apartment, Rathore was brutally fucking Ambika from behind like a cheap whore. He gripped her wide hips with bruising force, his thick, veined cock slamming balls-deep into her dripping, sloppy cunt with loud, wet, obscene squelching sounds. Each savage thrust made her fat ass cheeks ripple and jiggle violently.
Without warning, he again lifted his powerful right leg and planted his foot firmly on the side of her face, pressing her cheek hard into the mattress, pinning her down like a bitch in heat. Her face was smashed sideways, mouth open, drool leaking onto the sheets as he used her body mercilessly.
(Sootha thooku di ) “Lift that fat ass higher, bitch,” he growled, his voice rough and degrading.
“Arch your back like the desperate married slut you are. Show me how much you love getting your tight little cunt ruined by another man’s cock.”
He brought his hand down hard on her jiggling ass cheeks — once, twice, three times — the sharp, stinging slaps echoing through the room.
Her plump flesh turned bright red under his hand, the impact making her pussy clench greedily around him
.Ambika moaned brokenly into the mattress, her voice muffled and pathetic. Fresh tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with sweat and drool. Her body betrayed her completely — her soaked cunt kept fluttering and squeezing his thick cock even as shame burned through her.
“Rathore… ahh… please…” she whimpered, her words dissolving into another helpless moan as he pounded her harder, his heavy balls slapping against her clit with every brutal thrust.
Her phone suddenly started ringing again — Priya Calling.
Rathore didn’t miss a beat. His hips kept slamming forward, his thick cock pounding her soaked cunt with loud, wet, obscene squelching sounds.
Rathore leaned down closer, his hot breath on Ambika’s ear, still fucking her deep and hard. He spat directly onto her tear-streaked face, the saliva mixing with her tears.
Ambika’s eyes widened in pure disgust. A wave of revulsion hit her hard — the warm, sticky spit mixing with her tears felt degrading beyond words. She flinched, her stomach twisting with humiliation, but she couldn’t pull away. Her body was completely trapped under his weight and his merciless cock.
“Who the fuck is this bitch Priya calling you now?”
he growled low and filthy.
“My… my friend…” Ambika whimpered, her ass still bouncing back against him in rhythm.
“Stupid friend,” Rathore sneered, slapping her jiggling ass hard.
“Why is she keep calling? Attend the call properly, you dumb slut. Answer that bitch.”
He reached over, grabbed the phone, switched it to speaker, and shoved it right next to Ambika’s face.
“Answer it,” he ordered, voice dark and commanding.
“And don’t you dare disconnect, you stupid married whore.”
Ambika’s body jerked with every brutal thrust, her fat ass cheeks rippling and jiggling shamelessly in rhythm with his savage pounding.
She tried to steady her voice, but another deep, punishing stroke forced a pathetic whimper out of her.
She knew what would happen if she disobeyed. She knew the consequences too well. Rathore had taught her that lesson many times in the last two months — the slaps, the choking, the way he would pull out and make her beg on her knees for hours. She had learned to obey.
With trembling fingers and tears still streaming down her face, Ambika obeyed.
“H-Hello… Priya…” she gasped, her voice shaky, breathy, and broken.
Priya’s warm but slightly upset voice filled the room.
“Ambika? Hello? I called you earlier also.
Did you see my message about the pooja tonight? It’s for my mangalsutra. The ladies are already here.
Will you come? Everyone is waiting…”Ambika’s ass kept moving back against Rathore in perfect rhythm, her soaked cunt making wet, filthy squelching sounds with every thrust.
She bit her lip hard, trying not to moan into the phone.
“I… I saw the message…” she managed, her words trembling as another hard thrust made her body jolt.
Priya sounded more concerned now.
“Are you okay? You sound different. Please try to come… it won’t feel complete without you.”
Rathore leaned down closer, still fucking her deep and hard.
He spat directly onto her tear-streaked face again — a thick, warm glob landing on her cheek and slowly dripping toward her lips.
Ambika flinched in disgust, but she didn’t dare to say a NO to him.
Rathore’s voice was a low, filthy whisper in her ear.
“Tell her you’re busy getting fucked like a whore.”
He thrust even deeper, grinding his cock inside her while Ambika struggled to speak through her tears and the revolting feeling of his spit on her skin.
“I… I’m fine, Priya…” Ambika forced out, her voice cracking pathetically.
“Just… a little tired…”Priya paused, clearly worried.
“Okay… but please try to come if you can even if it is late. It’s special today. My hubby also asked about you.”
Rathore who was still buried deep inside Ambika, his thick cock stretching her soaked cunt, when Priya’s voice came through the speaker again — soft, warm, and full of innocent excitement
.“Ambika? It’s my mangalsutra pooja today… ”Something in those words made Rathore pause mid-thrust.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
His mind starts to think .. " oh Mangalsutra pooja. The holy ritual. The sacred symbol of marriage. Fucking married whores ".
An idea — filthy, cruel, and perfect — bloomed in his mind.
He slowly pulled his cock out of Ambika’s dripping pussy with a wet, obscene sound.
Ambika let out a shaky breath, thinking it was over.
But Rathore wasn’t done.
He flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion.
Ambika’s eyes widened in fresh fear as he climbed over her chest, straddling her. His heavy, veined cock — still rock-hard and glistening with her juices — hovered menacingly just inches above her tear-streaked face.
He reached down and gently lifted the thin gold mangalsutra from between her breasts. The sacred chain dangled from his fingers for a moment before he pressed it flat against her left cheek, right under her eye.
The cool gold touched her wet skin.
Ambika’s breath hitched. She stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes.
“Rathore… please…” she whispered, voice barely audible.
He ignored her plea.
Instead, he looked down at the mangalsutra with dark fascination, slowly rubbing the swollen head of his cock against the gold links.“Look at this holy mangalsutra ” he sneered, his voice low and mocking.
“The same one your fucking husband tied around your neck with so much love…hmmmmm... the symbol of your pure marriage.”He stroked his cock slowly now, deliberately, letting the precum smear across the sacred chain.
“I just heard your stupid friend talking about her mangalsutra pooja… how special it is… how pure…”His strokes became a little faster, his cock twitching against her cheek.
“So I’ve decided… I’m going to do the real pooja on your mangalsutra tonight.”
Ambika’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She shook her head slightly, disgust and shame flooding her.
“No… please… not like this…” she begged with fear, her voice cracking.
Rathore pressed the mangalsutra harder against her face, the gold now warm from her skin and his precum.
“Keep it right here on your face, di,” he ordered softly, almost tenderly.
He was now fully straddling her chest, his heavy, muscular thighs pinning her shoulders down to the mattress. His powerful, well-built body — broad shoulders, ripped chest, and thick arms glistening with sweat — loomed over her like a conqueror. The heavy, musky scent of his cock and balls filled her nostrils — a strong, masculine, slightly salty smell mixed with the scent of her own arousal.
His large, low-hanging balls rested warm and heavy against her neck, pressing just below her chin.
Rathore looked down at her with dark satisfaction. One hand gripped the base of his thick, veined cock while the other pressed the thin gold mangalsutra flat against Ambika’s left cheek, right under her eye. The sacred chain was warm from her skin.
He stroked himself slowly at first, deliberately, letting the swollen purple head rub against the gold links and her tear-streaked face.
Then his strokes became faster, more urgent.
“Let me cum all over this holy symbol. Let me bless it properly.”
He stroked more faster now, aiming the swollen head directly at the sacred chain and Ambika’s trembling lips.
Ambika could only sob quietly, tears rolling down her temples as she lay helpless beneath him — her mangalsutra pressed against her cheek, waiting to be desecrated.
She could feel the heat radiating from his cock, the weight of his muscular body crushing her, the heavy smell of his balls so close to her nose.
With a deep, guttural groan, Rathore came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted violently from his cock, splattering across Ambika’s face in heavy spurts. The first rope landed directly on the mangalsutra, coating the gold chain in sticky white. The second and third ropes hit her lips and cheeks, some of it splashing into her left eye. More cum dripped down her chin and onto her neck, soaking the sacred thali completely.
The mangalsutra — once a symbol of purity and marital vow — was now glistening obscenely with another man’s seed.
Priya’s voice came through the speaker again, confused and concerned.
“Ambika? What did you say? I didn’t hear properly…”Ambika could only sob softly, her face completely covered in Rathore’s warm cum. It dripped slowly from her eyelashes, her lips, and the defiled mangalsutra.
The sticky, musky smell filled her senses.
Rathore grinned darkly above her. He continued rubbing the head of his spent cock slowly across the cum-soaked thali, spreading his load even more deliberately over the holy symbol.
“Tell her,” he whispered, voice low and cruel, “that I already did the pooja for you.”
Ambika’s broken, cum-filled voice barely made it out between quiet sobs:
“I… I’ll try, Priya…”She kept the phone pressed to her ear for a few more seconds, too terrified to hang up.
Priya sounded even more confused on the other end.
“Okay … take care. We’ll wait for you…”The call finally ended.
Rathore looked down at Ambika’s ruined face with pure satisfaction, his heavy balls still resting against her neck, his cum slowly dripping from her mangalsutra.
Ambika lay completely still, her face covered in thick, warm cum. It dripped slowly from her eyelashes, lips, and chin onto the once-sacred mangalsutra that now glistened obscenely with another man’s seed.
She looked up into Rathore’s cruel, victorious eyes — dark, possessive, and completely without mercy.
In just two months, her life had changed beyond recognition after that one incident when rathore broke her husbands face.
She should have been strong like Priya a devoted loyal wife.
She should have been at the pooja right now, sitting beside her friend, offering flowers to her own mangalsutra with dignity and devotion.
Instead, she was here — naked, degraded, her holy thali defiled — while Rathore stared down at the cum-soaked chain with pure ownership in his gaze.
He owned her now.
A married woman. A respectable wife. Broken and marked.
Meanwhile, in Anna Nagar…Priya stood in the middle of her mangalsutra pooja.The small lamp flickered softly. Ladies sat around her, chanting mantras as she offered flowers and kumkum to her sacred thali with folded hands, eyes closed in pure devotion.
The jasmine in her braid filled the room with its sweet fragrance. Her voice joined the others in soft prayer, calm and sincere.
But her heart was not fully at peace.
Two mangalsutra poojas were happening at the same time.
One was pure. Holy. Filled with love and tradition.
The other was filthy. Degrading. Defiling the very symbol of marriage.
And the shadow named Rathore was already connecting both.
Venkatesan came to his his empty house, staring blankly at the wall. Half-packed suitcases stood in the corner — he was preparing to leave the city in a few days. His life was no longer the same. The respectable, quiet existence he once knew had been shattered the night that hulk broke his tooth in front of his wife.
Now will the damage will to pass to Ravi ?? The man who had dared to stand in Rathore’s way and was about to cause far more expensive damage than Venkatesan ever did .And Rathore, a man who never forgot or forgave, would make sure Ravi paid for it — in ways far worse than money.
The question now hung heavy in the air:Will Ravi and Priya suffer the same fate?Or will their story be even worse?
Rathore’s eyes lingered on the cum-soaked mangalsutra still resting against Ambika’s naked chest. Thick white streaks glistened on the sacred gold, slowly dripping between her heavy breasts. A dark, satisfied smile played on his lips.
Ambika lay beneath him, exhausted and broken. In her shattered mind, she told herself this was their final send-off — a goodbye fuck before Venkatesan’s transfer took them away from the city. One last degrading session before she could try to forget everything.
But will Rathore let her go so easily ??
This is just the beginning of the story, if rathore can do this to a chief officer's wife … what will he do to Ravi, Priya and Priya’s unbreakable mangalsutra?
It was already around 5:00 p.m. Priya was waiting for ravi.
Ravi called Priya from the office around same time.
“Priya, I’ll be a little late. Some work came up. You start the pooja.
Also, did you inform Ambika?
”Priya stood in the middle of her living room, already dressed in saree with jasmine flowers neatly tucked in her braid. The ladies had started arriving all chatting and laughing as they settled down. The puja items were perfectly arranged, the lamp was lit, but the atmosphere felt incomplete.
“I sent her a message this morning,” Priya replied, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment.
“No reply yet.”
Priya felt a small sting of upset. This was supposed to be a special evening for her mangalsutra, and everything was going wrong now even ravi was late and the warmth she had imagined for the pooja was slowly fading.
Ravi paused on the other end,
“Just texting won’t be nice. She came last year, right? Call and check.
Venkatesan is not sure if she’ll come. It’s your special mangalsutra pooja. Call her.”
Priya sighed softly, her shoulders dropping a little.
“Okay… let me call her now.”
She excused herself from the ladies with a polite smile. Her heart felt heavier than it should on such an auspicious day. Ravi wasn’t coming on time, the guests were waiting, and now Ambika — who had always been part of these poojas — was not there. She dialed Ambika’s number, hoping for a quick, positive response.
At that exact moment, in the high-rise apartment, Rathore was brutally fucking Ambika from behind like a cheap whore. He gripped her wide hips with bruising force, his thick, veined cock slamming balls-deep into her dripping, sloppy cunt with loud, wet, obscene squelching sounds. Each savage thrust made her fat ass cheeks ripple and jiggle violently.
Without warning, he again lifted his powerful right leg and planted his foot firmly on the side of her face, pressing her cheek hard into the mattress, pinning her down like a bitch in heat. Her face was smashed sideways, mouth open, drool leaking onto the sheets as he used her body mercilessly.
(Sootha thooku di ) “Lift that fat ass higher, bitch,” he growled, his voice rough and degrading.
“Arch your back like the desperate married slut you are. Show me how much you love getting your tight little cunt ruined by another man’s cock.”
He brought his hand down hard on her jiggling ass cheeks — once, twice, three times — the sharp, stinging slaps echoing through the room.
Her plump flesh turned bright red under his hand, the impact making her pussy clench greedily around him
.Ambika moaned brokenly into the mattress, her voice muffled and pathetic. Fresh tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with sweat and drool. Her body betrayed her completely — her soaked cunt kept fluttering and squeezing his thick cock even as shame burned through her.
“Rathore… ahh… please…” she whimpered, her words dissolving into another helpless moan as he pounded her harder, his heavy balls slapping against her clit with every brutal thrust.
Her phone suddenly started ringing again — Priya Calling.
Rathore didn’t miss a beat. His hips kept slamming forward, his thick cock pounding her soaked cunt with loud, wet, obscene squelching sounds.
Rathore leaned down closer, his hot breath on Ambika’s ear, still fucking her deep and hard. He spat directly onto her tear-streaked face, the saliva mixing with her tears.
Ambika’s eyes widened in pure disgust. A wave of revulsion hit her hard — the warm, sticky spit mixing with her tears felt degrading beyond words. She flinched, her stomach twisting with humiliation, but she couldn’t pull away. Her body was completely trapped under his weight and his merciless cock.
“Who the fuck is this bitch Priya calling you now?”
he growled low and filthy.
“My… my friend…” Ambika whimpered, her ass still bouncing back against him in rhythm.
“Stupid friend,” Rathore sneered, slapping her jiggling ass hard.
“Why is she keep calling? Attend the call properly, you dumb slut. Answer that bitch.”
He reached over, grabbed the phone, switched it to speaker, and shoved it right next to Ambika’s face.
“Answer it,” he ordered, voice dark and commanding.
“And don’t you dare disconnect, you stupid married whore.”
Ambika’s body jerked with every brutal thrust, her fat ass cheeks rippling and jiggling shamelessly in rhythm with his savage pounding.
She tried to steady her voice, but another deep, punishing stroke forced a pathetic whimper out of her.
She knew what would happen if she disobeyed. She knew the consequences too well. Rathore had taught her that lesson many times in the last two months — the slaps, the choking, the way he would pull out and make her beg on her knees for hours. She had learned to obey.
With trembling fingers and tears still streaming down her face, Ambika obeyed.
“H-Hello… Priya…” she gasped, her voice shaky, breathy, and broken.
Priya’s warm but slightly upset voice filled the room.
“Ambika? Hello? I called you earlier also.
Did you see my message about the pooja tonight? It’s for my mangalsutra. The ladies are already here.
Will you come? Everyone is waiting…”Ambika’s ass kept moving back against Rathore in perfect rhythm, her soaked cunt making wet, filthy squelching sounds with every thrust.
She bit her lip hard, trying not to moan into the phone.
“I… I saw the message…” she managed, her words trembling as another hard thrust made her body jolt.
Priya sounded more concerned now.
“Are you okay? You sound different. Please try to come… it won’t feel complete without you.”
Rathore leaned down closer, still fucking her deep and hard.
He spat directly onto her tear-streaked face again — a thick, warm glob landing on her cheek and slowly dripping toward her lips.
Ambika flinched in disgust, but she didn’t dare to say a NO to him.
Rathore’s voice was a low, filthy whisper in her ear.
“Tell her you’re busy getting fucked like a whore.”
He thrust even deeper, grinding his cock inside her while Ambika struggled to speak through her tears and the revolting feeling of his spit on her skin.
“I… I’m fine, Priya…” Ambika forced out, her voice cracking pathetically.
“Just… a little tired…”Priya paused, clearly worried.
“Okay… but please try to come if you can even if it is late. It’s special today. My hubby also asked about you.”
Rathore who was still buried deep inside Ambika, his thick cock stretching her soaked cunt, when Priya’s voice came through the speaker again — soft, warm, and full of innocent excitement
.“Ambika? It’s my mangalsutra pooja today… ”Something in those words made Rathore pause mid-thrust.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
His mind starts to think .. " oh Mangalsutra pooja. The holy ritual. The sacred symbol of marriage. Fucking married whores ".
An idea — filthy, cruel, and perfect — bloomed in his mind.
He slowly pulled his cock out of Ambika’s dripping pussy with a wet, obscene sound.
Ambika let out a shaky breath, thinking it was over.
But Rathore wasn’t done.
He flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion.
Ambika’s eyes widened in fresh fear as he climbed over her chest, straddling her. His heavy, veined cock — still rock-hard and glistening with her juices — hovered menacingly just inches above her tear-streaked face.
He reached down and gently lifted the thin gold mangalsutra from between her breasts. The sacred chain dangled from his fingers for a moment before he pressed it flat against her left cheek, right under her eye.
The cool gold touched her wet skin.
Ambika’s breath hitched. She stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes.
“Rathore… please…” she whispered, voice barely audible.
He ignored her plea.
Instead, he looked down at the mangalsutra with dark fascination, slowly rubbing the swollen head of his cock against the gold links.“Look at this holy mangalsutra ” he sneered, his voice low and mocking.
“The same one your fucking husband tied around your neck with so much love…hmmmmm... the symbol of your pure marriage.”He stroked his cock slowly now, deliberately, letting the precum smear across the sacred chain.
“I just heard your stupid friend talking about her mangalsutra pooja… how special it is… how pure…”His strokes became a little faster, his cock twitching against her cheek.
“So I’ve decided… I’m going to do the real pooja on your mangalsutra tonight.”
Ambika’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She shook her head slightly, disgust and shame flooding her.
“No… please… not like this…” she begged with fear, her voice cracking.
Rathore pressed the mangalsutra harder against her face, the gold now warm from her skin and his precum.
“Keep it right here on your face, di,” he ordered softly, almost tenderly.
He was now fully straddling her chest, his heavy, muscular thighs pinning her shoulders down to the mattress. His powerful, well-built body — broad shoulders, ripped chest, and thick arms glistening with sweat — loomed over her like a conqueror. The heavy, musky scent of his cock and balls filled her nostrils — a strong, masculine, slightly salty smell mixed with the scent of her own arousal.
His large, low-hanging balls rested warm and heavy against her neck, pressing just below her chin.
Rathore looked down at her with dark satisfaction. One hand gripped the base of his thick, veined cock while the other pressed the thin gold mangalsutra flat against Ambika’s left cheek, right under her eye. The sacred chain was warm from her skin.
He stroked himself slowly at first, deliberately, letting the swollen purple head rub against the gold links and her tear-streaked face.
Then his strokes became faster, more urgent.
“Let me cum all over this holy symbol. Let me bless it properly.”
He stroked more faster now, aiming the swollen head directly at the sacred chain and Ambika’s trembling lips.
Ambika could only sob quietly, tears rolling down her temples as she lay helpless beneath him — her mangalsutra pressed against her cheek, waiting to be desecrated.
She could feel the heat radiating from his cock, the weight of his muscular body crushing her, the heavy smell of his balls so close to her nose.
With a deep, guttural groan, Rathore came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted violently from his cock, splattering across Ambika’s face in heavy spurts. The first rope landed directly on the mangalsutra, coating the gold chain in sticky white. The second and third ropes hit her lips and cheeks, some of it splashing into her left eye. More cum dripped down her chin and onto her neck, soaking the sacred thali completely.
The mangalsutra — once a symbol of purity and marital vow — was now glistening obscenely with another man’s seed.
Priya’s voice came through the speaker again, confused and concerned.
“Ambika? What did you say? I didn’t hear properly…”Ambika could only sob softly, her face completely covered in Rathore’s warm cum. It dripped slowly from her eyelashes, her lips, and the defiled mangalsutra.
The sticky, musky smell filled her senses.
Rathore grinned darkly above her. He continued rubbing the head of his spent cock slowly across the cum-soaked thali, spreading his load even more deliberately over the holy symbol.
“Tell her,” he whispered, voice low and cruel, “that I already did the pooja for you.”
Ambika’s broken, cum-filled voice barely made it out between quiet sobs:
“I… I’ll try, Priya…”She kept the phone pressed to her ear for a few more seconds, too terrified to hang up.
Priya sounded even more confused on the other end.
“Okay … take care. We’ll wait for you…”The call finally ended.
Rathore looked down at Ambika’s ruined face with pure satisfaction, his heavy balls still resting against her neck, his cum slowly dripping from her mangalsutra.
Ambika lay completely still, her face covered in thick, warm cum. It dripped slowly from her eyelashes, lips, and chin onto the once-sacred mangalsutra that now glistened obscenely with another man’s seed.
She looked up into Rathore’s cruel, victorious eyes — dark, possessive, and completely without mercy.
In just two months, her life had changed beyond recognition after that one incident when rathore broke her husbands face.
She should have been strong like Priya a devoted loyal wife.
She should have been at the pooja right now, sitting beside her friend, offering flowers to her own mangalsutra with dignity and devotion.
Instead, she was here — naked, degraded, her holy thali defiled — while Rathore stared down at the cum-soaked chain with pure ownership in his gaze.
He owned her now.
A married woman. A respectable wife. Broken and marked.
Meanwhile, in Anna Nagar…Priya stood in the middle of her mangalsutra pooja.The small lamp flickered softly. Ladies sat around her, chanting mantras as she offered flowers and kumkum to her sacred thali with folded hands, eyes closed in pure devotion.
The jasmine in her braid filled the room with its sweet fragrance. Her voice joined the others in soft prayer, calm and sincere.
But her heart was not fully at peace.
Two mangalsutra poojas were happening at the same time.
One was pure. Holy. Filled with love and tradition.
The other was filthy. Degrading. Defiling the very symbol of marriage.
And the shadow named Rathore was already connecting both.
Venkatesan came to his his empty house, staring blankly at the wall. Half-packed suitcases stood in the corner — he was preparing to leave the city in a few days. His life was no longer the same. The respectable, quiet existence he once knew had been shattered the night that hulk broke his tooth in front of his wife.
Now will the damage will to pass to Ravi ?? The man who had dared to stand in Rathore’s way and was about to cause far more expensive damage than Venkatesan ever did .And Rathore, a man who never forgot or forgave, would make sure Ravi paid for it — in ways far worse than money.
The question now hung heavy in the air:Will Ravi and Priya suffer the same fate?Or will their story be even worse?
Rathore’s eyes lingered on the cum-soaked mangalsutra still resting against Ambika’s naked chest. Thick white streaks glistened on the sacred gold, slowly dripping between her heavy breasts. A dark, satisfied smile played on his lips.
Ambika lay beneath him, exhausted and broken. In her shattered mind, she told herself this was their final send-off — a goodbye fuck before Venkatesan’s transfer took them away from the city. One last degrading session before she could try to forget everything.
But will Rathore let her go so easily ??
This is just the beginning of the story, if rathore can do this to a chief officer's wife … what will he do to Ravi, Priya and Priya’s unbreakable mangalsutra?
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