Adultery NISHA:: A Hot Spy -Female Investigator Officer - Secret mission

[girrich9486]

Thankyou alll,




   Nisha stood with her team on the outer security cordon of the development site in Mumbai. The area had been cleaned and decorated for the inauguration. Banners, cameras, local leaders, and a crowd of invited residents filled the space. Minister Pandey’s convoy was expected any minute.
She wore a fitted dark shirt tucked neatly into formal trousers, black sunglasses hiding her eyes, service weapon secured at her hip. Her posture was straight, expression unreadable. To anyone watching she was simply the senior officer in charge of the protective ring.
Inside the approaching car, Minister Pandey looked out at the arranged crowd and the waiting cameras. He had spent the morning giving interviews about development plans, employment, and “listening to the common man.” He had sat on the ground with a group of workers for the photographers, eaten a few bites of the same simple food, and spoken softly about their problems. The image was carefully built: a humble, approachable leader who cared.
He knew it was performance.
The real work of power happened elsewhere—deals, pressures, quiet threats, and the use of people when they became useful. He understood how to look kind while remaining something far colder.
His PA, sitting beside him, cleared his throat.
“Sir, Nisha madam is heading the security arrangement here. She will be in the inner perimeter when you step out.”
Pandey’s mouth curved slightly.
“Is that so?” He kept his voice low. “That day she tried to show attitude. I put an end to it.” A short, private laugh. “She remembers.”
The PA gave a careful nod and said nothing more.
When the car door opened, Pandey stepped out into the sunlight and the waiting cameras. He raised a hand to the crowd, smiled the practiced public smile, and began moving along the marked path. Nisha’s team held their positions. She herself stood a short distance away, sunglasses still in place, scanning the surroundings with professional focus. Their eyes did not meet for long. She gave only the formal acknowledgment required by duty.
For the next hour the Minister performed his role perfectly—cutting the ribbon, speaking about progress, posing with local residents, promising attention to their needs. The cameras recorded a caring leader. The crowd saw what it was meant to see.
Nisha watched from her post, face impassive, the weight of everything she already knew about him sitting behind the dark lenses. The man shaking hands and speaking of development was the same man who had used her husband’s project as leverage, the same man whose name now sat at the centre of the board in her locked room, the same man connected—however indirectly—to the danger surrounding Vidya.
When the event ended and the convoy prepared to leave, Pandey passed close enough for her to hear the low remark he made to his PA, too quiet for the microphones.


Nisha approached minister and make salute.. She is in semi uniform.. And minister asked Nisha how is your husband's work. Is his it project business going smooth? Then she replied yes sir. Now business is going smooth.  Then yes you did great job today. She told Thankyou sir. But you also more beautiful in this dress he saying to her while his eyes randomly watching her big 36 boobs through fabric.. Nisha understand but she got ashamed of his wicked eyes.. He is pervert... Like she thinking... Look Nisha madam in my area no illegal activities does not happens it's your duty. He saying while he adjusting his crotch.. And smiling " this thing can't settle in calm".. She felt shamed and she make her head side.. And turn her head sideway.. And telling am I leave sir.. He told OK by laughing..



She did not react. She simply adjusted her position, spoke a short instruction into her radio, and kept her team in place until the last vehicle had gone.... But after Pandey vehicle went she is in furious high anger towards his comments.. But she try to controlled....


But in car PA asking "" you sir you teaes her very well. She can't see your face properly when you are adjusting your cock'.. Pandey laughs yea PA I will make her shame and humiliate and finally submission and surrender to me.  She is the toughest officer I saw. I saw many officer but she is beautiful and cleaver officer with high arrogance.


But sure one day I will remove her total arrogance and make my personal slut. " . PA laughing and told yes sir on that day you made her cries and moans by fucking her.. I heard her loud moans in my room and runs towards you room then she is in nude and lay on bed unde you..".. This time when you will plan sir to fuck her.?


Minister replies" yes sure but this time I won't fuck her in my bedroom.. But I will fuck her in living room openly and right in front you and our servant gopal.. Yes sir make her loud screams echoed in all your home sir. PAtold. And both laughing....





Nisha drove straight from the inauguration site to her office, the uniform still sharp, the sunglasses still in place. The moment the cabin door closed behind her she dropped into the chair and the controlled face she had worn all morning cracked.
She pressed both hands against her forehead.
Why did I stand there and take it?
He spoke to me like he still owned the quieter part of the conversation. He smiled that same smile. And I answered with protocol. I saluted. I walked away.
I should have said something. I should have made him feel even a fraction of what he has already taken. But the uniform, the cameras, the rules—none of it let me move.
Anger at herself sat heavier than anger at him. She had promised she would not bend again, yet in public she had still given him the clean, professional silence he expected. The self-scolding continued in a low, bitter loop until her phone rang.
One of her team members was on the line, voice tight.
“Madam… Raghu. Hit-and-run. Unknown vehicle. He’s at the government hospital. Critical.”
Nisha was already on her feet.
She reached the hospital in under twenty minutes. Raghu—Sub-Inspector, thirty-two, the most sincere and by-the-book man on her five-member unit—lay in the trauma bay, eyes closed, machines tracking a life that had not yet decided to stay. An unknown vehicle had struck his bike at speed and vanished. No number plate captured. No witnesses willing to speak clearly.
Priya, his wife, sat on the plastic chair outside the operating theatre area, a one-year-old child asleep against her shoulder. She was still feeding the baby when Nisha arrived; the moment she saw the senior officer she broke into open crying, the kind that had no sound left in it, only shaking shoulders and tears that kept coming.
Nisha sat beside her without ceremony.
“Priya. Look at me.” Her voice was low but steady. “I will not leave the people who did this. I will not. You have to hold on for the child and for him.”
Priya could only nod through the tears, eyes fixed on the closed doors of the surgery ward. The doctors had already said the next hours would decide everything—internal bleeding, possible swelling in the brain, a long operation.
When the estimate for the immediate surgical costs was placed in front of them, Nisha did not wait for paperwork or department channels. She made the payment herself, quietly, without discussion. Then she stayed.
Through the night she moved between the corridor and the small waiting area, speaking to every doctor who came out, repeating the same request in different words: do whatever is required, keep him alive, he is one of the few who still does this work cleanly. She brought water for Priya, made her eat a little, held the sleeping child for a stretch so the young mother could press her face into her hands and cry without the baby waking.
At one point, long after midnight, Nisha stood alone near the glass window of the ICU bay and looked at Raghu’s still form. The same man who had never taken a shortcut, who had followed her into the harder arrests without complaint, now fought for each breath under machines. The hit-and-run did not feel random. Not after the pressure her team had put on the network. Not after the Minister’s private smile that morning.
She stayed until the first light came through the hospital windows. Priya finally slept for an hour with her head against the wall, the child still in her arms. Nisha sat awake, phone in hand, already beginning the quiet calls that would start the real search for the vehicle and the people who had ordered it.
The professional tension of the morning, the self-reproach in the cabin, and the sight of a sincere officer lying broken had settled into something colder and more useful than anger.
Someone had tried to send a message.
Nisha intended to answer it....


   

After several hours the surgeons came out with restrained but positive news. The operation had stopped the internal bleeding and reduced the pressure. Raghu had opened his eyes.
He could not speak. One arm and one leg were badly damaged and would need long recovery, possibly further procedures. But he was conscious and could recognise faces.
Priya cried the moment she saw him looking at her. The relief was physical—her shoulders shook as she stood at the side of the bed. Nisha felt the tightness in her own chest ease a little. The man who had ridden into danger without complaint was still there behind the bandages and the machines.
The doctors allowed them a short visit. Nisha and Priya went in together. Raghu’s eyes found Nisha first. Tears welled and ran down into the gauze at his temples. He could not form words, but the look was clear: he knew she was there, and he knew why this had happened.
Priya carefully placed the one-year-old in Nisha’s arms and leaned over the bed, resting her forehead against her husband’s uninjured shoulder. Both of them cried quietly. They were the same age—thirty-two—and the life they had built had just been broken in a single violent moment. From now on Priya would have to care for him the way she cared for their child.
The baby, unsettled by the new arms and the hospital smell, began to cry. Nisha tried to soothe the child, rocking gently and murmuring the half-remembered lullabies she had heard other mothers use. The crying only grew louder.
Priya wiped her face, took the baby back, and turned slightly away for privacy. She unbuttoned her blouse  and and open blouse and draw a left big boob which are 34 size and with full of Milk. . And she seeing towards Nisha _ shall I? But Nisha no problrm please feed kid told. and  Priya moves her boobs nipple attached her nipple to kids mouth.. Kid stops crying enough to feed. The child latched on and the crying stopped almost at once. The small ward was quiet again except for the soft sounds of the monitors and the baby nursing.
Nisha stood a little apart, giving them the moment. She looked at Raghu’s damaged limbs, at Priya’s exhausted but steady face, and at the child now calm against its mother. The hit-and-run had not been random. Someone had wanted to send a message to her team. The message had landed on the most sincere man she had.
She stayed until the nurses asked them to step out so Raghu could rest. In the corridor she spoke quietly to Priya.
“I will handle the costs and the complaints. You only look after him and the child. We will find who did this.”
Priya nodded, still holding the now-sleeping baby. Her eyes were red but clearer than they had been the night before.
Nisha walked out of the hospital into the morning light with the same cold focus she had carried since the inauguration. Raghu was alive. That was the first piece of good news in days. The rest—the vehicle, the order that had sent it, the people who thought a coma would stop her team—would be answered in time...