Forbidden Desire of Shalini - The Awakening

[shellyshalini]

EPISODE 6 : Willing Submission


The week that followed was a slow torture of stolen moments—a hand brushing my waist as I passed, a whisper in my ear while Rohan was in the other room, a quick kiss behind the kitchen door that left me breathless. I teased him too, letting my skirt ride high when I bent to pick something up, wearing other revealing dresses I owned. But my brother was always nearby, or Bikram had to be away most of the time as he drive our rental car. Every night I touched myself, thinking of his fingers, his mouth, his words ringing in my ears.

Then one morning, I heard Bikram's voice from the living room, rough and tired. "Bhaiya, I have fever. I don't think I can drive today. The vehicle can stay."

Rohan's reply was distracted, already late for work. "Okay, rest. I'll call another driver."

My heart stopped. Then it started racing, fluttering like a thousand butterflies had taken flight in my stomach. I stood frozen in the hallway, gripping the wall. This was it. The day I had been waiting for.
I watched my brother finish his tea, grab his bag, and leave. The door clicked shut. The house fell silent.

I didn't go to my computer class. I texted a quick excuse and turned my phone off. Bikram emerged from his room, a thin smile on his lips. He was dressed in a loose kurta, no fever in his eyes—just heat.
"Come here, jaan," he said softly.

I walked into his arms, and he held me tight, his lips pressing against my forehead. "We have the whole day," he murmured. "Nothing to rush. Just you and me."

I nodded, my voice lost.

He let me go and gestured toward the kitchen. "First, make me breakfast. I want to watch you cook."

I obeyed, my hands trembling as I chopped vegetables. He came up behind me, his chest against my back, his hands sliding around my waist and up to my breasts. He cupped them through my blouse, thumbs stroking my nipples while I tried to keep chopping.

"Keep going," he whispered. "Don't stop."

I focused on the knife, but my breath hitched with every squeeze. His hips pressed into my backside, and I could feel his hardness growing. He held me like that for long minutes, teasing, until the vegetables were done.
Later, we sat on the sofa watching TV, but neither of us saw the screen. He pulled me onto his lap, his hand sliding under my skirt, fingers tracing my inner thigh. "Sit close," he commanded, and I obeyed, spreading my legs slightly. His fingers found my wetness, stroking slowly, while the TV droned on. I bit my lip, my hips twitching against his hand.

At lunch, he made me sit beside him on the floor, my plate in front of me. He fed me with one hand, the other slipped under my kurta, playing with my pussy. I ate blindly, moaning softly between bites, feeling his fingers glide through my folds, never entering, just teasing.

After lunch, he brought out a tub of vanilla ice cream. "Lie down on the bed," he said, his voice low and commanding.

I did, my heart pounding. He pulled off my skirt and blouse, leaving me naked on the sheets. He opened the ice cream and scooped a dollop onto my belly, then slowly dripped more onto my mound, letting it melt between my thighs. I shivered as the cold touched my hot skin.

He knelt between my legs. "Now I eat," he said, and lowered his mouth to my pussy.

The cold ice cream met the warmth of his tongue. He lapped at the melting sweetness, spreading it over my clit, dipping inside me, licking and sucking until I was gasping, my hands tangled in his hair. The contrast of cold and hot, sweet and salty, drove me wild. I came with a broken cry, my hips bucking against his face.

He didn't stop until every drop was gone. Then he crawled up beside me, pulled me into his arms, and held me close. "You're like a wife taking care of her husband," he said softly. "And from now on, whenever we are alone, you won't wear clothes. If you obey, I'll give you a surprise."

I nodded, still trembling, my body humming with pleasure.

He pulled me into bed, my head on his chest. We talked—about everything and nothing. I pressed a kiss to his chest, then bit his nipple gently. He gasped, then laughed, pulling me tighter.

"Shelly" he whispered. "I love you, jaanu."

My heart swelled. "I love being like this with you," I murmured.

He turned serious. "How many times have you thought of me? And for how long?"

I felt a blush heat my cheeks. "Many times. For weeks. I'm so lucky I got you in real."

He was quiet for a moment. "Am I the only one you think of?"

The question hit me like a sudden weight. I knew my answer could change everything. But I chose honesty, to avoid future complications.

"No," I said softly. "You're not the only one. I think of Chotu—the milk delivery boy. The paper hawker. Even the sabjiwala who sits in our goli."
Instead of anger, I saw a flash of excitement in his eyes. His hand slid down between my legs, and this time he pushed three fingers inside me roughly. I gasped, arching into him.

"Good girl," he growled. "You're not just a wife material. You're also a sexy randi maal."

The word sent a shock through me—dirty, forbidden, thrilling. His fingers pumped hard, fast, curling inside me, and I came again, screaming into his shoulder.

We lay tangled afterward, sweaty and spent. I fell asleep in his arms, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. When I woke, it was thirty minutes later, the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains.
He brushed his lips against my forehead, a whisper of heat that lingered longer than a greeting. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, “I’ll give you a real surprise.” 

He paused, the promise folding into the space between us, then added with a half-smile, “And yes, I’ll bring protection this time—so we can take our time and go all the way.”

When he first mentioned the surprise, I had been a little curious and also worried, imagining that he might mean full-fledged sex, something with inherent risk. But when he revealed that he will bring protection and mentioned the surprise again, I felt relief shiver through me. Anticipation bloomed fresh in my chest, the fear of pregnancy gone, leaving only the eager certainty that I could enjoy to the core. I was curious, too, about what the surprise might be. The day was far from over.