03-04-2026, 01:45 AM
Three months earlier – Viraj’s Office, Pune
While Swati struggled with her growing fear at home in the present, she had no idea that the foundation of her marriage had already cracked. A very different kind of control had been unfolding in Viraj’s office for the past three months with Poorva. This particular encounter occurred just a few days after the first time he had forced Poorva to submit in the guise of private “teaching sessions” — the arrangement that had begun as pure coercion to protect her job.
On that particular day, three months ago, Viraj stood at the head of the conference table, explaining a complex new IT project to his 12-member team. There were four teams of varying sizes, ranging from seven to twelve members, each working for different overseas clients — all reporting directly to him. He was a handsome, authoritative man of 35, but his focus wasn't entirely on the presentation. His eyes kept drifting to Poorva, a 26-year-old who joined just 2 months ago sat halfway down the table listening intently.
After a grueling 30-minute discussion, Viraj dismissed the team and walked back to his large private cabin. His cabin was a commanding 400 sq. ft. room, a symbol of his absolute authority in the Pune office. It had a private attached toilet, a heavy wooden door, a grand boss's chair, and a massive glass table. There was a waiting sofa that could seat four people. No one could enter without knocking. Outside his cabin, the office receptionist Vidya doubled as his de facto gatekeeper, ensuring no one disturbed him without prior notice, and guarded the door like a hawk. As the head of the Pune office and Project Manager(PM), Viraj reported directly to the Director of Operations in Bengaluru. Out of the 50-person team here, no one could cross him.
Ten minutes later came the soft knock.
“Come in,” Viraj commanded.
Poorva stepped inside. She was wearing a tight blue corporate shirt and a matching knee-length pencil skirt that clung to her wide hips. Poorva was breathtakingly beautiful, with soft, expressive features, large dark brown eyes that gave her an innocent, almost vulnerable look, high cheekbones, and a fair-to-wheatish complexion that glowed with natural freshness. She had an innocent, girl-next-door charm mixed with a quiet sensuality that turned heads wherever she went. Her body was built with dramatic curves — a narrow, almost delicate waist that flared out into incredibly wide hips, a thick and heavy ass that stretched the fabric of her skirt, and large, heavy breasts (easily 34D or fuller) that strained hard against the buttons of her blue shirt.
She was notoriously weak in programming, making constant errors that should have gotten her fired long ago. She was only surviving in this high-paying IT job because Viraj had personally shielded her.
"Close the door, Poorva," Viraj said, his voice dropping an octave. "And lock it."
Poorva swallowed hard. She turned, clicked the lock, and walked toward his desk. The window shades were already pulled down, creating a dim, private space.
Viraj leaned back in his grand chair, his eyes scanning her thick curves.
"Your panty," he ordered, voice low and commanding.
Poorva took a sharp breath. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Reluctantly, Poorva reached down. She grabbed the hem of her blue skirt and slowly pulled it up around her waist, exposing her thick, meaty thighs. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white lace panties and slowly pushed them down her legs to her knees then ankles.
Poorva stepped out of the small piece of fabric, her hands trembling slightly. Standing there with her skirt bunched up around her waist, leaving her hairy pussy and ass fully exposed, Her body was a spectacular sight. She possessed the earthy, heavy-bottomed sensuality. Her dusky skin glowed in the dim light of the cabin. Her hips flared out dramatically into a massive, heavy, round ass. Her thick thighs pressed together, hiding the treasure between them, while her heavy boobs strained against the buttons of her shirt, her nipples hardening into tight pebbles under the fabric.
"Turn around. Show it to me properly" Viraj commanded, his voice thick with lust.
Poorva bit her lower lip, her face flushing red with humiliation. Slowly, she turned around, exposing her massive, naked ass to her boss. Then, she reached between her legs from behind, spreading her thick ass cheeks slightly to reveal her plump, hairy pussy. Her wet slit was glistening, a drop of natural lubrication shining in the dim light. The lips were puffy and swollen, her clit peeking out from its hood, begging for attention. A thin string of her juices trailed down her inner thigh.
She turned back around, her eyes cast downward, and handed her white lace panty to Viraj across the massive glass table.
Viraj took the panty. He rubbed his thumb over the crotch area. It was completely soaked, dripping with her juices. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, smelling the raw, musky scent of her aroused pussy.
Then, to Poorva’s shock, he licked the wet spot, tasting her tangy sweetness. “Mmm, tumhara swaad bhi tumhare jitna hi kamaal hai,” he murmured, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
“Job ke liye yeh sab kar rahi hai… ya maza bhi aa raha hai?” He continued.
Poorva didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes, her chest heaving. Inside, a storm of shame and confusion raged. At first, she had no option but to accept Viraj's dirty demands to save her career.
But over the last few days, something dark had shifted inside her. She had actually started enjoying the humiliation. She had started craving Viraj's dominant attitude and his throbbing dick. But she had never told him that. She let him believe he was still forcing her, playing the helpless victim while her pussy throbbed for his cock.
Viraj watched her flushed face, feeling a surge of absolute power. His own hard cock was twitching violently against his trousers. But it wasn't just lust for Viraj anymore. In his twisted mind, he thought he had actually fallen in love with Poorva. She was his submissive pet, his beautiful, thick-thighed secret. Yet, deep down, a part of him hated the way he needed her—needed the control, needed to see her break. It was a dangerous addiction, and he knew it.
This secret obsession was the exact reason Viraj’s behavior at home had become so erratic. For the last three months, he couldn't bring himself to go near Swati. Even when Swati, starved for intimacy, tried to initiate sex in bed, Viraj would push her away. He felt a strange, misplaced guilt. Looking at his pious, innocent wife made him feel dirty about what he was doing with Poorva. To mask his guilt, he deflected it into anger—finding small faults with Swati, yelling at her, and controlling her life.
"Tum ab jaa sakti ho" Viraj ordered softly, dropping her wet panties into his desk drawer. "Panties ke bina."
Poorva nodded, her body still tingling. She smoothed down her skirt and turned to leave, feeling the cool air between her legs, the wetness already seeping into the fabric of her skirt. She closed the door behind her, leaving Viraj alone with his raging erection and conflicted thoughts.
That evening Viraj drove home and ate dinner across the table from Swati, who had made dal and rice and asked him how his day was. He answered in two words. She asked about when to go grocery shopping. He answered in four. She did not ask anything else.
He did not notice her stopping.
He was thinking about the drawer.
While Viraj sat at the dinner table three months ago, trapped in his dark obsession, Aditi was currently upstairs in her bedroom in the present day, trapped in her dark memories
While Swati struggled with her growing fear at home in the present, she had no idea that the foundation of her marriage had already cracked. A very different kind of control had been unfolding in Viraj’s office for the past three months with Poorva. This particular encounter occurred just a few days after the first time he had forced Poorva to submit in the guise of private “teaching sessions” — the arrangement that had begun as pure coercion to protect her job.
On that particular day, three months ago, Viraj stood at the head of the conference table, explaining a complex new IT project to his 12-member team. There were four teams of varying sizes, ranging from seven to twelve members, each working for different overseas clients — all reporting directly to him. He was a handsome, authoritative man of 35, but his focus wasn't entirely on the presentation. His eyes kept drifting to Poorva, a 26-year-old who joined just 2 months ago sat halfway down the table listening intently.
After a grueling 30-minute discussion, Viraj dismissed the team and walked back to his large private cabin. His cabin was a commanding 400 sq. ft. room, a symbol of his absolute authority in the Pune office. It had a private attached toilet, a heavy wooden door, a grand boss's chair, and a massive glass table. There was a waiting sofa that could seat four people. No one could enter without knocking. Outside his cabin, the office receptionist Vidya doubled as his de facto gatekeeper, ensuring no one disturbed him without prior notice, and guarded the door like a hawk. As the head of the Pune office and Project Manager(PM), Viraj reported directly to the Director of Operations in Bengaluru. Out of the 50-person team here, no one could cross him.
Ten minutes later came the soft knock.
“Come in,” Viraj commanded.
Poorva stepped inside. She was wearing a tight blue corporate shirt and a matching knee-length pencil skirt that clung to her wide hips. Poorva was breathtakingly beautiful, with soft, expressive features, large dark brown eyes that gave her an innocent, almost vulnerable look, high cheekbones, and a fair-to-wheatish complexion that glowed with natural freshness. She had an innocent, girl-next-door charm mixed with a quiet sensuality that turned heads wherever she went. Her body was built with dramatic curves — a narrow, almost delicate waist that flared out into incredibly wide hips, a thick and heavy ass that stretched the fabric of her skirt, and large, heavy breasts (easily 34D or fuller) that strained hard against the buttons of her blue shirt.
She was notoriously weak in programming, making constant errors that should have gotten her fired long ago. She was only surviving in this high-paying IT job because Viraj had personally shielded her.
"Close the door, Poorva," Viraj said, his voice dropping an octave. "And lock it."
Poorva swallowed hard. She turned, clicked the lock, and walked toward his desk. The window shades were already pulled down, creating a dim, private space.
Viraj leaned back in his grand chair, his eyes scanning her thick curves.
"Your panty," he ordered, voice low and commanding.
Poorva took a sharp breath. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Reluctantly, Poorva reached down. She grabbed the hem of her blue skirt and slowly pulled it up around her waist, exposing her thick, meaty thighs. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white lace panties and slowly pushed them down her legs to her knees then ankles.
Poorva stepped out of the small piece of fabric, her hands trembling slightly. Standing there with her skirt bunched up around her waist, leaving her hairy pussy and ass fully exposed, Her body was a spectacular sight. She possessed the earthy, heavy-bottomed sensuality. Her dusky skin glowed in the dim light of the cabin. Her hips flared out dramatically into a massive, heavy, round ass. Her thick thighs pressed together, hiding the treasure between them, while her heavy boobs strained against the buttons of her shirt, her nipples hardening into tight pebbles under the fabric.
"Turn around. Show it to me properly" Viraj commanded, his voice thick with lust.
Poorva bit her lower lip, her face flushing red with humiliation. Slowly, she turned around, exposing her massive, naked ass to her boss. Then, she reached between her legs from behind, spreading her thick ass cheeks slightly to reveal her plump, hairy pussy. Her wet slit was glistening, a drop of natural lubrication shining in the dim light. The lips were puffy and swollen, her clit peeking out from its hood, begging for attention. A thin string of her juices trailed down her inner thigh.
She turned back around, her eyes cast downward, and handed her white lace panty to Viraj across the massive glass table.
Viraj took the panty. He rubbed his thumb over the crotch area. It was completely soaked, dripping with her juices. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, smelling the raw, musky scent of her aroused pussy.
Then, to Poorva’s shock, he licked the wet spot, tasting her tangy sweetness. “Mmm, tumhara swaad bhi tumhare jitna hi kamaal hai,” he murmured, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
“Job ke liye yeh sab kar rahi hai… ya maza bhi aa raha hai?” He continued.
Poorva didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes, her chest heaving. Inside, a storm of shame and confusion raged. At first, she had no option but to accept Viraj's dirty demands to save her career.
But over the last few days, something dark had shifted inside her. She had actually started enjoying the humiliation. She had started craving Viraj's dominant attitude and his throbbing dick. But she had never told him that. She let him believe he was still forcing her, playing the helpless victim while her pussy throbbed for his cock.
Viraj watched her flushed face, feeling a surge of absolute power. His own hard cock was twitching violently against his trousers. But it wasn't just lust for Viraj anymore. In his twisted mind, he thought he had actually fallen in love with Poorva. She was his submissive pet, his beautiful, thick-thighed secret. Yet, deep down, a part of him hated the way he needed her—needed the control, needed to see her break. It was a dangerous addiction, and he knew it.
This secret obsession was the exact reason Viraj’s behavior at home had become so erratic. For the last three months, he couldn't bring himself to go near Swati. Even when Swati, starved for intimacy, tried to initiate sex in bed, Viraj would push her away. He felt a strange, misplaced guilt. Looking at his pious, innocent wife made him feel dirty about what he was doing with Poorva. To mask his guilt, he deflected it into anger—finding small faults with Swati, yelling at her, and controlling her life.
"Tum ab jaa sakti ho" Viraj ordered softly, dropping her wet panties into his desk drawer. "Panties ke bina."
Poorva nodded, her body still tingling. She smoothed down her skirt and turned to leave, feeling the cool air between her legs, the wetness already seeping into the fabric of her skirt. She closed the door behind her, leaving Viraj alone with his raging erection and conflicted thoughts.
That evening Viraj drove home and ate dinner across the table from Swati, who had made dal and rice and asked him how his day was. He answered in two words. She asked about when to go grocery shopping. He answered in four. She did not ask anything else.
He did not notice her stopping.
He was thinking about the drawer.
While Viraj sat at the dinner table three months ago, trapped in his dark obsession, Aditi was currently upstairs in her bedroom in the present day, trapped in her dark memories
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