16-06-2026, 09:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 17-06-2026, 05:33 AM by Hakari77. Edited 7 times in total. Edited 7 times in total.)
Next Chapter: The Third Day :
The next morning, Padma woke up with a heavy mind and a body that still carried faint echoes of the previous day’s touches. Her full, milk-laden breasts ached as she fed her baby boy, the warm liquid flowing easily. She stood in front of the mirror afterward, dbanging a simple cotton saree for the journey, her creamy white skin glowing softly under the morning light filtering through the window. Her innocent round face, with its large expressive eyes, reflected deep conflict.
“This is all just acting… for the money, to clear our debts, until Reddy comes back,” she repeated to herself like a mantra. Reddy — the tall, dark, strong pure soul who had entered her life under the guise of spiritual service — had awakened desires in her that her husband Rakesh never had. His commanding yet caring touches, the way he made her feel both submissive and cherished… she missed that intensity terribly. These film people, with their “professional” demands, felt different — more calculated, more hungry. But she had come this far. Stopping now would mean losing everything they promised.
The production car arrived on time. Rhea, the assistant, greeted her with her usual polite smile and escorted her to the dressing room. Today’s outfit was a rich maroon red cotton saree with a matching sleeveless, deep-neck blouse. The fabric was soft yet clung subtly to her curves, and the deep neckline was more revealing than anything Padma had worn before marriage. She dbangd the saree with meticulous care — tucking the pleats neatly into her petticoat at her slim waist, ensuring the pallu hung modestly over her left shoulder to cover her ample chest as much as possible. Without a bra (lactation made it uncomfortable and impractical), her heavy breasts strained gently against the thin blouse material. A small damp spot was already forming near one nipple from the constant fullness.
Kumar knocked lightly and entered. “Padma madam, today we shoot the big seduction sequence in the Principal’s cabin. Your character is a traditional teacher using her charm to get secrets from the strict Principal. Show the hesitation, the internal battle, and the slow giving in. Natural reactions only — you’re doing wonderfully so far.”
Padma nodded silently, her heart already pounding as she was led to the set.
The set was the familiar dimly lit Principal’s office: a sturdy wooden desk, chairs, bookshelves casting long shadows, and soft lighting that created an intimate, almost private atmosphere. Dev waited there, his tall, well-built frame imposing in a crisp shirt. The two cameramen adjusted their angles eagerly. Kumar stood nearby, script notes in hand, his eyes sharp and attentive.
“Action!”
Padma stepped into the frame gracefully, her maroon saree swaying with each hesitant step, the pallu dbangd securely over her shoulder, the deep neckline hinting at the soft swells beneath without fully exposing them. Her voice was soft and pleading as scripted: “Sir, please… the students need your understanding. I’ll do anything to make things right.”
Dev rose slowly from behind the desk, towering over her 5’4” frame. His eyes traced her body openly. “Anything?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You come here dressed like this, teasing me with those eyes, and expect me to bend?”
As per direction, Padma let her pallu slip just a little as she moved nearer, the fabric gliding down her shoulder in a slow cascade. The creamy upper curves of her heavy breasts came into fuller view, the blouse fabric stretched tight. A faint damp spot from her milk was visible.
Dev’s gaze intensified. He reached out and caught the edge of her pallu, pulling it further down her arm deliberately, bunching the maroon fabric at her elbow. The pallu now hung loosely, exposing much more of her deep neckline and the inviting valley between her breasts. Padma’s breath hitched. She felt exposed but stayed in place, her cheeks burning.
Kumar’s voice came softly from the side: “Excellent, Padma. Hold that innocent hesitation.”
Dev placed his hands firmly on her waist, fingers tracing the bare skin between the blouse and the saree tuck at her petticoat. He pulled her closer until her soft, yielding belly pressed against his hardening crotch. Padma could clearly feel his erection through his pants. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, building kiss — starting gentle, then deepening as his tongue traced her lower lip and pushed inside, exploring her mouth with passion.
Padma stiffened at first, her small hands pressing lightly against his broad chest. But Dev held the back of her neck with one strong hand, tilting her head and controlling the kiss, making it impossible to pull away easily. His other hand moved up to cup her left breast through the thin blouse, squeezing it gently but firmly. The pressure caused warm milk to leak, visibly dampening the fabric over her dark nipple. Padma gasped into his mouth, a rush of unwanted heat flooding her body. Her traditional mind screamed that this was too much, but the “scene” and the physical sensations held her frozen.
Seeing her frozen in that mix of shock and budding arousal, Kumar moved in naturally from behind. He came closer, his body pressing lightly against her back at first. One of his hands slid down to squeeze her plump, saree-covered ass cheek possessively, kneading the soft flesh. “Padma, just like that… improve your expressions. Show us the conflict turning into surrender,” he whispered hotly near her ear, his voice low and guiding, as if purely directing. His breath sent shivers down her spine.
Padma’s mind whirled in confusion. Why is Kumar touching me like this? This isn’t in the script… is it normal for direction? She wanted to stop him, to pull away and protest, but Dev’s passionate kiss dominated her — his tongue dancing with hers, his hand still squeezing her leaking breast, holding the back of her neck firmly. Her body was betraying her; the combined attention made her weak, a fresh wetness building between her thighs. She felt horny and powerless, her legs trembling slightly.
Kumar continued smoothly, his other hand gathering the hem of her maroon saree and the petticoat layers underneath. “I need a couple of exposed leg shots for the camera angles,” he said casually but firmly, as if it were standard procedure. He lifted the fabrics slowly, inch by inch — first revealing her smooth, creamy white calves, then her knees, then higher up her shapely thighs. The bunched fabric rustled softly. Padma trembled harder, not fully understanding why her lower body was being exposed in this “seduction” scene, but Dev’s controlling kiss and neck hold kept her upper body occupied and submissive.
“Yeah, just like that… moan naturally, Padma. I will help you,” Kumar murmured encouragingly. He knelt slightly to one side for better camera access, his hot breath brushing her skin. He began kissing and licking along her right leg — starting from the knee, moving upward with deliberate, wet trails of his tongue along her soft inner thigh. The sensations were electric. Padma let out a soft, involuntary moan into Dev’s mouth, her body arching slightly.
Dev kept the kiss deep and passionate throughout, his hand kneading her breast more boldly, milk seeping onto his fingers through the blouse. He occasionally switched to squeezing the other breast too, maintaining control with the hand at her neck. Padma was sandwiched — Dev dominating her mouth and chest from the front, Kumar’s mouth and hands exploring her legs and ass from behind/side.
Padma’s internal struggle was intense. This is wrong… why is Kumar lifting my saree and petticoat so high? I should stop them… but Dev’s kiss… my body feels so weak, so hot. Guilt flooded her — thoughts of her husband Rakesh, her baby, and especially Reddy’s “pure” service — but the physical pleasure and the pressure of “one good take” made her hesitate. She didn’t push them away. Her panties were soaked now, her thighs quivering under Kumar’s licking.
They prolonged the moment for several long, detailed minutes. Dev’s tongue explored her mouth thoroughly while his fingers teased her leaking nipples through the damp fabric. Kumar’s tongue moved higher up her thighs, his hands squeezing her ass again occasionally, all while giving “directions”: “Perfect, Padma… feel it… give us more of that natural reaction.”
Finally, Kumar called “Cut!” his voice slightly hoarse.
Padma staggered back as they released her, breathing heavily. Her pallu was down, blouse damp and askew over her heaving breasts, saree and petticoat hiked up to mid-thighs, skin glistening with traces of saliva on her legs. Tears of guilt and confusion welled in her eyes as she hurriedly adjusted her clothes with shaking hands, avoiding their hungry gazes. Dev smirked, adjusting his obvious erection. Kumar stood, praising her effusively: “That slow build, your expressions, the way you let it happen naturally — brilliant work, Padma. The audience will be hooked.”
After a short break (during which Padma tried to compose herself in the corner, her body still throbbing), they reset for the next sequence on the desk.
Dev pushed her gently but firmly toward the desk. “You think you can tease me and get away?” he growled in character, spinning her so her front pressed against the cool wood. Her heavy breasts flattened against the surface through the blouse. Dev molded against her back, his hard cock pressing insistently into the cleft of her ass through the saree layers. He rocked slowly, grinding in deliberate circles.
His hands reached around, squeezing both breasts again, milk leaking freely. Then he turned her to face him, lifting her to sit on the desk edge, legs parted. Dev worked on the saree tuck at her waist with slow, teasing fingers, loosening pleats while kissing her neck. Kumar joined from the side again.
Kumar told Padma she needs wrap her legs around Dev, and lifted her saree and petticoat above her knees., She wrapped her legs around Dev., his cock now poking just above her cunt.
Dev pulled her blouse upward gradually — exposing her full, milky breasts completely — Kumar lifted her saree and petticoat higher, his mouth following with kisses and licks up her thigh from side., Dev captured her mouth again in a deep kiss, hand on her neck, the other playing with her exposed, leaking breasts. Padma’s moans grew more genuine as waves of pleasure and guilt crashed over her.
As the cameras kept rolling for this extended take, Dev broke the deep kiss and looked down at her exposed, glistening breasts with raw hunger. “Look at these beautiful, full breasts… leaking just for me,” he murmured, staying somewhat in character but his voice thick with real lust. He held the back of her neck firmly with one hand, tilting her head slightly so she couldn’t easily look away, while his other hand cupped her right breast from below, lifting the heavy, creamy mound.
Padma’s heart raced wildly. No… this is too intimate… I should stop him now, she thought desperately. But her body felt weak and hot, her nipples aching and leaking more under his gaze. Dev lowered his head slowly, his hot breath teasing her sensitive skin first. He kissed the upper swell of her right breast softly, then trailed wet kisses downward until his lips closed around her dark, erect nipple.
He sucked firmly, drawing the warm, sweet milk into his mouth with a loud, satisfied groan. Padma arched her back involuntarily, a genuine moan escaping her lips as the intense suction sent jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Milk flowed freely into Dev’s mouth as he suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the nipple, flicking it inside his mouth while he applied rhythmic pressure. Some milk trickled from the corner of his lips down her creamy breast.
Kumar, still on the side, continued lifting and bunching her saree and petticoat higher, his hands squeezing her ass and thighs, licking upward along the side of her thigh as he encouraged her: “Yes, Padma… moan naturally like that. Let the pleasure show on your face. This is perfect for the scene.”
Dev switched to her left breast, taking the nipple deep into his mouth and sucking even harder. He kneaded the right one with his free hand, milking it gently so more warm liquid dripped onto his fingers and her skin. The wet, slurping sounds filled the quiet set. Padma’s hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, her body trembling. She felt utterly exposed and controlled — Dev’s strong hand at her neck, his mouth feasting on her lactating breasts, Kumar’s tongue teasing her thighs from the side. Her panties were completely soaked, her traditional mind drowning in guilt and confusion while her awakened body craved more.
Dev took his time, prolonging the sucking for long minutes. He alternated between breasts, sometimes sucking one while pinching and rolling the nipple of the other, sometimes pressing both heavy mounds together and licking from one nipple to the other. Milk coated his lips and chin, glistening on Padma’s creamy white skin. She whimpered and moaned helplessly, tears of shame mixing with the overwhelming sensations.
Kumar’s voice guided her softly between her moans: “Just like that, Padma… surrender to the feeling. Beautiful.”
The cameras captured every detail — the way her breasts jiggled slightly with each suck, the milk flowing, the slow licking on her thighs, her flushed innocent face torn between guilt and pleasure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of this detailed, sensual assault, Kumar called “Cut!”
Padma sat on the desk edge for a moment longer, disheveled and breathing raggedly — blouse pulled up, breasts exposed and glistening with milk and saliva, saree and petticoat bunched high around her waist, legs trembling. She quickly covered herself with shaking hands, tears flowing silently as reality crashed back. Dev wiped his mouth with a satisfied smirk. Kumar praised her extensively for the raw, natural performance.
That evening at home, feeding her baby, Padma replayed every slow moment. Under the sheets later, her hand wandered, thinking of Reddy… but Dev and Kumar’s touches intruded. The lines were blurring faster than she could handle.
The next morning, Padma woke up with a heavy mind and a body that still carried faint echoes of the previous day’s touches. Her full, milk-laden breasts ached as she fed her baby boy, the warm liquid flowing easily. She stood in front of the mirror afterward, dbanging a simple cotton saree for the journey, her creamy white skin glowing softly under the morning light filtering through the window. Her innocent round face, with its large expressive eyes, reflected deep conflict.
“This is all just acting… for the money, to clear our debts, until Reddy comes back,” she repeated to herself like a mantra. Reddy — the tall, dark, strong pure soul who had entered her life under the guise of spiritual service — had awakened desires in her that her husband Rakesh never had. His commanding yet caring touches, the way he made her feel both submissive and cherished… she missed that intensity terribly. These film people, with their “professional” demands, felt different — more calculated, more hungry. But she had come this far. Stopping now would mean losing everything they promised.
The production car arrived on time. Rhea, the assistant, greeted her with her usual polite smile and escorted her to the dressing room. Today’s outfit was a rich maroon red cotton saree with a matching sleeveless, deep-neck blouse. The fabric was soft yet clung subtly to her curves, and the deep neckline was more revealing than anything Padma had worn before marriage. She dbangd the saree with meticulous care — tucking the pleats neatly into her petticoat at her slim waist, ensuring the pallu hung modestly over her left shoulder to cover her ample chest as much as possible. Without a bra (lactation made it uncomfortable and impractical), her heavy breasts strained gently against the thin blouse material. A small damp spot was already forming near one nipple from the constant fullness.
Kumar knocked lightly and entered. “Padma madam, today we shoot the big seduction sequence in the Principal’s cabin. Your character is a traditional teacher using her charm to get secrets from the strict Principal. Show the hesitation, the internal battle, and the slow giving in. Natural reactions only — you’re doing wonderfully so far.”
Padma nodded silently, her heart already pounding as she was led to the set.
The set was the familiar dimly lit Principal’s office: a sturdy wooden desk, chairs, bookshelves casting long shadows, and soft lighting that created an intimate, almost private atmosphere. Dev waited there, his tall, well-built frame imposing in a crisp shirt. The two cameramen adjusted their angles eagerly. Kumar stood nearby, script notes in hand, his eyes sharp and attentive.
“Action!”
Padma stepped into the frame gracefully, her maroon saree swaying with each hesitant step, the pallu dbangd securely over her shoulder, the deep neckline hinting at the soft swells beneath without fully exposing them. Her voice was soft and pleading as scripted: “Sir, please… the students need your understanding. I’ll do anything to make things right.”
Dev rose slowly from behind the desk, towering over her 5’4” frame. His eyes traced her body openly. “Anything?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You come here dressed like this, teasing me with those eyes, and expect me to bend?”
As per direction, Padma let her pallu slip just a little as she moved nearer, the fabric gliding down her shoulder in a slow cascade. The creamy upper curves of her heavy breasts came into fuller view, the blouse fabric stretched tight. A faint damp spot from her milk was visible.
Dev’s gaze intensified. He reached out and caught the edge of her pallu, pulling it further down her arm deliberately, bunching the maroon fabric at her elbow. The pallu now hung loosely, exposing much more of her deep neckline and the inviting valley between her breasts. Padma’s breath hitched. She felt exposed but stayed in place, her cheeks burning.
Kumar’s voice came softly from the side: “Excellent, Padma. Hold that innocent hesitation.”
Dev placed his hands firmly on her waist, fingers tracing the bare skin between the blouse and the saree tuck at her petticoat. He pulled her closer until her soft, yielding belly pressed against his hardening crotch. Padma could clearly feel his erection through his pants. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, building kiss — starting gentle, then deepening as his tongue traced her lower lip and pushed inside, exploring her mouth with passion.
Padma stiffened at first, her small hands pressing lightly against his broad chest. But Dev held the back of her neck with one strong hand, tilting her head and controlling the kiss, making it impossible to pull away easily. His other hand moved up to cup her left breast through the thin blouse, squeezing it gently but firmly. The pressure caused warm milk to leak, visibly dampening the fabric over her dark nipple. Padma gasped into his mouth, a rush of unwanted heat flooding her body. Her traditional mind screamed that this was too much, but the “scene” and the physical sensations held her frozen.
Seeing her frozen in that mix of shock and budding arousal, Kumar moved in naturally from behind. He came closer, his body pressing lightly against her back at first. One of his hands slid down to squeeze her plump, saree-covered ass cheek possessively, kneading the soft flesh. “Padma, just like that… improve your expressions. Show us the conflict turning into surrender,” he whispered hotly near her ear, his voice low and guiding, as if purely directing. His breath sent shivers down her spine.
Padma’s mind whirled in confusion. Why is Kumar touching me like this? This isn’t in the script… is it normal for direction? She wanted to stop him, to pull away and protest, but Dev’s passionate kiss dominated her — his tongue dancing with hers, his hand still squeezing her leaking breast, holding the back of her neck firmly. Her body was betraying her; the combined attention made her weak, a fresh wetness building between her thighs. She felt horny and powerless, her legs trembling slightly.
Kumar continued smoothly, his other hand gathering the hem of her maroon saree and the petticoat layers underneath. “I need a couple of exposed leg shots for the camera angles,” he said casually but firmly, as if it were standard procedure. He lifted the fabrics slowly, inch by inch — first revealing her smooth, creamy white calves, then her knees, then higher up her shapely thighs. The bunched fabric rustled softly. Padma trembled harder, not fully understanding why her lower body was being exposed in this “seduction” scene, but Dev’s controlling kiss and neck hold kept her upper body occupied and submissive.
“Yeah, just like that… moan naturally, Padma. I will help you,” Kumar murmured encouragingly. He knelt slightly to one side for better camera access, his hot breath brushing her skin. He began kissing and licking along her right leg — starting from the knee, moving upward with deliberate, wet trails of his tongue along her soft inner thigh. The sensations were electric. Padma let out a soft, involuntary moan into Dev’s mouth, her body arching slightly.
Dev kept the kiss deep and passionate throughout, his hand kneading her breast more boldly, milk seeping onto his fingers through the blouse. He occasionally switched to squeezing the other breast too, maintaining control with the hand at her neck. Padma was sandwiched — Dev dominating her mouth and chest from the front, Kumar’s mouth and hands exploring her legs and ass from behind/side.
Padma’s internal struggle was intense. This is wrong… why is Kumar lifting my saree and petticoat so high? I should stop them… but Dev’s kiss… my body feels so weak, so hot. Guilt flooded her — thoughts of her husband Rakesh, her baby, and especially Reddy’s “pure” service — but the physical pleasure and the pressure of “one good take” made her hesitate. She didn’t push them away. Her panties were soaked now, her thighs quivering under Kumar’s licking.
They prolonged the moment for several long, detailed minutes. Dev’s tongue explored her mouth thoroughly while his fingers teased her leaking nipples through the damp fabric. Kumar’s tongue moved higher up her thighs, his hands squeezing her ass again occasionally, all while giving “directions”: “Perfect, Padma… feel it… give us more of that natural reaction.”
Finally, Kumar called “Cut!” his voice slightly hoarse.
Padma staggered back as they released her, breathing heavily. Her pallu was down, blouse damp and askew over her heaving breasts, saree and petticoat hiked up to mid-thighs, skin glistening with traces of saliva on her legs. Tears of guilt and confusion welled in her eyes as she hurriedly adjusted her clothes with shaking hands, avoiding their hungry gazes. Dev smirked, adjusting his obvious erection. Kumar stood, praising her effusively: “That slow build, your expressions, the way you let it happen naturally — brilliant work, Padma. The audience will be hooked.”
After a short break (during which Padma tried to compose herself in the corner, her body still throbbing), they reset for the next sequence on the desk.
Dev pushed her gently but firmly toward the desk. “You think you can tease me and get away?” he growled in character, spinning her so her front pressed against the cool wood. Her heavy breasts flattened against the surface through the blouse. Dev molded against her back, his hard cock pressing insistently into the cleft of her ass through the saree layers. He rocked slowly, grinding in deliberate circles.
His hands reached around, squeezing both breasts again, milk leaking freely. Then he turned her to face him, lifting her to sit on the desk edge, legs parted. Dev worked on the saree tuck at her waist with slow, teasing fingers, loosening pleats while kissing her neck. Kumar joined from the side again.
Kumar told Padma she needs wrap her legs around Dev, and lifted her saree and petticoat above her knees., She wrapped her legs around Dev., his cock now poking just above her cunt.
Dev pulled her blouse upward gradually — exposing her full, milky breasts completely — Kumar lifted her saree and petticoat higher, his mouth following with kisses and licks up her thigh from side., Dev captured her mouth again in a deep kiss, hand on her neck, the other playing with her exposed, leaking breasts. Padma’s moans grew more genuine as waves of pleasure and guilt crashed over her.
As the cameras kept rolling for this extended take, Dev broke the deep kiss and looked down at her exposed, glistening breasts with raw hunger. “Look at these beautiful, full breasts… leaking just for me,” he murmured, staying somewhat in character but his voice thick with real lust. He held the back of her neck firmly with one hand, tilting her head slightly so she couldn’t easily look away, while his other hand cupped her right breast from below, lifting the heavy, creamy mound.
Padma’s heart raced wildly. No… this is too intimate… I should stop him now, she thought desperately. But her body felt weak and hot, her nipples aching and leaking more under his gaze. Dev lowered his head slowly, his hot breath teasing her sensitive skin first. He kissed the upper swell of her right breast softly, then trailed wet kisses downward until his lips closed around her dark, erect nipple.
He sucked firmly, drawing the warm, sweet milk into his mouth with a loud, satisfied groan. Padma arched her back involuntarily, a genuine moan escaping her lips as the intense suction sent jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Milk flowed freely into Dev’s mouth as he suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the nipple, flicking it inside his mouth while he applied rhythmic pressure. Some milk trickled from the corner of his lips down her creamy breast.
Kumar, still on the side, continued lifting and bunching her saree and petticoat higher, his hands squeezing her ass and thighs, licking upward along the side of her thigh as he encouraged her: “Yes, Padma… moan naturally like that. Let the pleasure show on your face. This is perfect for the scene.”
Dev switched to her left breast, taking the nipple deep into his mouth and sucking even harder. He kneaded the right one with his free hand, milking it gently so more warm liquid dripped onto his fingers and her skin. The wet, slurping sounds filled the quiet set. Padma’s hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, her body trembling. She felt utterly exposed and controlled — Dev’s strong hand at her neck, his mouth feasting on her lactating breasts, Kumar’s tongue teasing her thighs from the side. Her panties were completely soaked, her traditional mind drowning in guilt and confusion while her awakened body craved more.
Dev took his time, prolonging the sucking for long minutes. He alternated between breasts, sometimes sucking one while pinching and rolling the nipple of the other, sometimes pressing both heavy mounds together and licking from one nipple to the other. Milk coated his lips and chin, glistening on Padma’s creamy white skin. She whimpered and moaned helplessly, tears of shame mixing with the overwhelming sensations.
Kumar’s voice guided her softly between her moans: “Just like that, Padma… surrender to the feeling. Beautiful.”
The cameras captured every detail — the way her breasts jiggled slightly with each suck, the milk flowing, the slow licking on her thighs, her flushed innocent face torn between guilt and pleasure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of this detailed, sensual assault, Kumar called “Cut!”
Padma sat on the desk edge for a moment longer, disheveled and breathing raggedly — blouse pulled up, breasts exposed and glistening with milk and saliva, saree and petticoat bunched high around her waist, legs trembling. She quickly covered herself with shaking hands, tears flowing silently as reality crashed back. Dev wiped his mouth with a satisfied smirk. Kumar praised her extensively for the raw, natural performance.
That evening at home, feeding her baby, Padma replayed every slow moment. Under the sheets later, her hand wandered, thinking of Reddy… but Dev and Kumar’s touches intruded. The lines were blurring faster than she could handle.
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