Yesterday, 12:44 AM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 12:44 AM by girrich9486. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Thankyou all
Nisha sat on the edge of the bed, the nightgown still loose around her shoulders, her wrists faintly marked from the metal cuffs. The soft bedroom light felt too bright. Rajesh stood a few feet away, already pulling off his shirt, the apology already forming on his face before she even spoke. The words that left her mouth were sharp, tired, and full of the frustration that had been building since the moment the blindfold came off.
“Why, Rajesh? Why did you tell me only five minutes? I asked you again and again to remove the cuffs, to take the blindfold off. I told you my arms were hurting. But what did you do? After forty minutes you came. Forty minutes, Rajesh. I stood in the same position the whole time—blindfolded, hands locked above my head, completely exposed. Do you even understand what that feels like? Standing there, waiting, not knowing when you would come back?”
Rajesh’s face fell. He stepped closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.
“Sorry… I’m really sorry. I went to the office to hand over the file. Everything was fine, but on the way back my tire punctured. I had to change it to the spare myself in the dark. It took time. The delay was about thirty-five minutes. I am extremely sorry, Nisha. I made you stand for so long. I never meant for it to happen. I will never do it again. I promise.”
She looked at him for a long moment. The anger was still there, hot and real, but underneath it something colder and heavier sat in her chest. She could not tell him the truth. She could not say that the forty minutes had not been empty waiting. She could not describe the mouth that had licked her, the fingers that had stretched her, the thick cock that had filled her throat and then her cunt while she moaned his name over and over. The shame of it locked the real words behind her teeth.
“Okay,” she said at last, the single word flat. “But my hands still hurt. The cuffs were tight. My shoulders are aching.”
“I’m sorry, Nisha. Truly. Let me massage them. Please.”
He reached for her, but she turned away slightly, lying down on her side of the bed with her back to him. He switched off the light and settled beside her. Within minutes his breathing evened into the steady rhythm of sleep. Nisha stayed awake, eyes open in the dark, staring at the faint outline of the poles still standing near the dressing table.
The moment the room was quiet, the tears came.
They did not come in loud sobs. They came silently at first, sliding down her temples and into her hair. Then the crying deepened, shaking her shoulders, forcing her to press her face into the pillow so the sound would not wake him. The questions circled endlessly in her mind.
How am I a woman who cannot recognise her own husband?
She had known Rajesh’s touch for years. She knew the shape of his hands, the rhythm of his breathing, the exact thickness and length of his cock. Yet for nearly an hour she had opened her mouth for a stranger, had spread her legs for a stranger, had come hard and loud for a stranger—while calling Rajesh’s name the entire time. The memory of her own moans made her stomach twist with fresh guilt. She remembered the wet sound of her own juices, the way her body had arched and begged for more, the way she had sucked so eagerly, the way she had clenched and flooded around a cock that felt bigger and longer than the one she was used to. She had told herself it was only excitement. She had been wrong.
I moaned like a slut for someone who is not my husband.
The thought burned. She cried harder, the pillow growing damp under her cheek. She remembered the moment the vibrator had been pushed inside her, the high speed that had forced the screaming orgasm out of her, the way she had thrashed against the cuffs and the rope while calling for Rajesh. She remembered the tongue on her ass, the fingers stretching her, the thick cock fucking her mouth until saliva ran down her chin and onto her breasts. Every detail replayed in the dark, and each one carried the same crushing realisation: she had not known. She had not stopped it. She had enjoyed it.
What kind of woman does that?
The guilt sat heavy on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She pressed both hands over her mouth to keep the sobs quiet. Rajesh slept on, unaware. The hours crawled past. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the blindfold, felt the cuffs, heard her own broken voice moaning a name that had not belonged to the man touching her. She cried until her eyes burned and her head ached. Sleep came only in the last thin hour before dawn, a shallow, restless half-hour that did nothing to ease the exhaustion or the shame.
Early morning light was just beginning to filter through the curtains when Priya’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Nisha? Coffee?”
Nisha’s eyes opened. Her head throbbed. Her body still felt used and sensitive in places she did not want to think about. She pushed herself up, pulled the nightgown tighter, and opened the door a few inches. Priya stood there with a small tray, two cups of coffee steaming gently. Her expression was polite, slightly cautious.
Nisha’s voice came out rough, edged with the sleepless night and the anger that had nowhere else to go.
“What, Priya? Why are you disturbing so early?”
Priya blinked, surprised by the tone. “I just… brought coffee. I thought you might want some.”
Nisha exhaled sharply, the lack of sleep and the weight of everything she was hiding making her words sharper than she intended.
“Okay. Keep it there.”
She took the cup without meeting Priya’s eyes. After a second she added, almost as an afterthought and still in the same rough tone, “Thanks.”
Priya nodded once, set the second cup on the small table near the door, and turned to leave. As she walked back down the short corridor, her own thoughts turned quietly. She did not know what had happened in the other bedroom the previous night. She only felt the sudden coldness in Nisha’s voice, the unexplained irritation directed at her for no clear reason. She wondered, not for the first time, why Nisha sometimes looked at her with that tight, distant expression, as if something unspoken sat between them. She had no idea about the hidden camera, the recording, or the hour that had left Nisha broken with guilt. She only registered the attitude and filed it away with a small, confused frown.
Behind the closed door Nisha sat on the edge of the bed again, the untouched coffee cooling in her hands. Rajesh still slept. The marks on her wrists had faded to faint pink lines. The physical evidence was almost gone. The guilt was not. It sat inside her like a second heartbeat, steady and painful, reminding her with every breath of the moans she had given to a man who was not her husband, of the orgasms she had reached while calling the wrong name, of the fact that she had hidden it all and would continue to hide it.
She stared at the floor and felt the tears threaten again. The day had only just begun, and already the weight of the secret felt heavier than the cuffs had the night before....
************'***********************×***********************
Priya stepped out into the narrow balcony that ran along the side of the house, the early morning air still cool against her skin. She closed the door quietly behind her so the sound would not carry back into the rooms. Raghu was already there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke drifting upward in thin grey lines. He had not slept much either. The phone in his pocket still held the long recording from the night before, locked behind a password only he knew.
Priya folded her arms and spoke in a low, tight voice.
“Nisha is getting angry at me for no reason. This morning when I took her coffee she answered so harshly. ‘What, Priya? Why are you disturbing so early?’ Like I did something wrong just by bringing her a cup. Her tone was completely different. Cold. Almost like she hates the sight of me.”
Raghu took a slow drag and exhaled. He did not look surprised.
“She’s on edge. Something is eating her from inside. That is good for us.”
Priya’s eyes flicked toward the closed windows of the main bedroom. “We can’t stay here like this, Raghu. Every day it feels heavier. She looks at me as if I am dirt under her feet, and now she is snapping for no reason. We can move back to our own house. At least there we won’t have to see her face every morning.”
Raghu turned fully toward her. The cigarette burned down between his fingers, ignored.
“No. We are not leaving.”
“Why? What is the point of staying and swallowing her attitude every day?”
His voice dropped even lower, edged with something hard and cold that had been growing for months.
“We should take revenge on her. Have you forgotten what happened to you because of her? Have you forgotten how they bangd you because of the case she pushed, the names she gave, the way she used us and then walked away clean? I still see the marks that never fully left your mind. And the accident—my accident—happened only because of the overtime and the pressure she created. I almost lost my leg because she wanted one more file closed before the deadline. And now look at her. She is happy. She is getting promotions. She smiles at dinner and talks about becoming Senior Circle Inspector while we are the ones losing sleep, losing peace, and soon maybe losing our jobs if she decides we are no longer useful.”
Priya’s arms tightened around herself. The old memories rose quickly—dark, unwanted, still sharp. She looked away toward the empty street.
“I haven’t forgotten. I live with it every day. But revenge… what can we even do? She is an officer. She has power. If we try anything and it goes wrong, we will be the ones destroyed.”
Raghu stepped closer, his voice steady and certain.
“That is why we stay. We stay until the PA gives the full plan. He already told me he is working on something clean, something that will not come back to us directly. We need to be here, close to her, watching her, learning her routines. The recording I have is only the beginning. She does not know it exists. She does not know how much she revealed while she thought she was safe. We use everything. We do not walk away while she keeps rising and we keep sinking.”
Priya was silent for a long moment. The cigarette smoke drifted between them. Finally she spoke, quieter now.
“You are sure the PA will actually help? Or is he only talking?”
“He will. He hates her for different reasons, but the hate is real. He said he will call within a few days with the next steps. Until then we stay. We smile when we have to. We take her rough words. We wait. Because if we leave now, she wins again. She gets the promotion, she forgets us, and everything she caused is buried. I will not let that happen.”
Priya exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of her shoulders. She still looked unhappy, still afraid of what revenge might cost, but she nodded once.
“All right. We stay. But if this plan starts to look too dangerous, we stop. I will not lose what little we have left.”
Raghu crushed the cigarette under his heel and looked back toward the house.
“It will not come to that. She took enough from us. Now it is our turn to take something from her. We wait for the PA. Until then, we remain exactly where we are.”
They stood in silence for another minute, the morning light growing stronger around them. Inside the house Nisha still sat with her untouched coffee, carrying a guilt she could not name out loud. Outside, the two people she had just spoken to harshly were already deciding that her rising career and her private shame would both become weapons in a revenge they had no intention of abandoning.
Nisha sat on the edge of the bed, the nightgown still loose around her shoulders, her wrists faintly marked from the metal cuffs. The soft bedroom light felt too bright. Rajesh stood a few feet away, already pulling off his shirt, the apology already forming on his face before she even spoke. The words that left her mouth were sharp, tired, and full of the frustration that had been building since the moment the blindfold came off.
“Why, Rajesh? Why did you tell me only five minutes? I asked you again and again to remove the cuffs, to take the blindfold off. I told you my arms were hurting. But what did you do? After forty minutes you came. Forty minutes, Rajesh. I stood in the same position the whole time—blindfolded, hands locked above my head, completely exposed. Do you even understand what that feels like? Standing there, waiting, not knowing when you would come back?”
Rajesh’s face fell. He stepped closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.
“Sorry… I’m really sorry. I went to the office to hand over the file. Everything was fine, but on the way back my tire punctured. I had to change it to the spare myself in the dark. It took time. The delay was about thirty-five minutes. I am extremely sorry, Nisha. I made you stand for so long. I never meant for it to happen. I will never do it again. I promise.”
She looked at him for a long moment. The anger was still there, hot and real, but underneath it something colder and heavier sat in her chest. She could not tell him the truth. She could not say that the forty minutes had not been empty waiting. She could not describe the mouth that had licked her, the fingers that had stretched her, the thick cock that had filled her throat and then her cunt while she moaned his name over and over. The shame of it locked the real words behind her teeth.
“Okay,” she said at last, the single word flat. “But my hands still hurt. The cuffs were tight. My shoulders are aching.”
“I’m sorry, Nisha. Truly. Let me massage them. Please.”
He reached for her, but she turned away slightly, lying down on her side of the bed with her back to him. He switched off the light and settled beside her. Within minutes his breathing evened into the steady rhythm of sleep. Nisha stayed awake, eyes open in the dark, staring at the faint outline of the poles still standing near the dressing table.
The moment the room was quiet, the tears came.
They did not come in loud sobs. They came silently at first, sliding down her temples and into her hair. Then the crying deepened, shaking her shoulders, forcing her to press her face into the pillow so the sound would not wake him. The questions circled endlessly in her mind.
How am I a woman who cannot recognise her own husband?
She had known Rajesh’s touch for years. She knew the shape of his hands, the rhythm of his breathing, the exact thickness and length of his cock. Yet for nearly an hour she had opened her mouth for a stranger, had spread her legs for a stranger, had come hard and loud for a stranger—while calling Rajesh’s name the entire time. The memory of her own moans made her stomach twist with fresh guilt. She remembered the wet sound of her own juices, the way her body had arched and begged for more, the way she had sucked so eagerly, the way she had clenched and flooded around a cock that felt bigger and longer than the one she was used to. She had told herself it was only excitement. She had been wrong.
I moaned like a slut for someone who is not my husband.
The thought burned. She cried harder, the pillow growing damp under her cheek. She remembered the moment the vibrator had been pushed inside her, the high speed that had forced the screaming orgasm out of her, the way she had thrashed against the cuffs and the rope while calling for Rajesh. She remembered the tongue on her ass, the fingers stretching her, the thick cock fucking her mouth until saliva ran down her chin and onto her breasts. Every detail replayed in the dark, and each one carried the same crushing realisation: she had not known. She had not stopped it. She had enjoyed it.
What kind of woman does that?
The guilt sat heavy on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She pressed both hands over her mouth to keep the sobs quiet. Rajesh slept on, unaware. The hours crawled past. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the blindfold, felt the cuffs, heard her own broken voice moaning a name that had not belonged to the man touching her. She cried until her eyes burned and her head ached. Sleep came only in the last thin hour before dawn, a shallow, restless half-hour that did nothing to ease the exhaustion or the shame.
Early morning light was just beginning to filter through the curtains when Priya’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Nisha? Coffee?”
Nisha’s eyes opened. Her head throbbed. Her body still felt used and sensitive in places she did not want to think about. She pushed herself up, pulled the nightgown tighter, and opened the door a few inches. Priya stood there with a small tray, two cups of coffee steaming gently. Her expression was polite, slightly cautious.
Nisha’s voice came out rough, edged with the sleepless night and the anger that had nowhere else to go.
“What, Priya? Why are you disturbing so early?”
Priya blinked, surprised by the tone. “I just… brought coffee. I thought you might want some.”
Nisha exhaled sharply, the lack of sleep and the weight of everything she was hiding making her words sharper than she intended.
“Okay. Keep it there.”
She took the cup without meeting Priya’s eyes. After a second she added, almost as an afterthought and still in the same rough tone, “Thanks.”
Priya nodded once, set the second cup on the small table near the door, and turned to leave. As she walked back down the short corridor, her own thoughts turned quietly. She did not know what had happened in the other bedroom the previous night. She only felt the sudden coldness in Nisha’s voice, the unexplained irritation directed at her for no clear reason. She wondered, not for the first time, why Nisha sometimes looked at her with that tight, distant expression, as if something unspoken sat between them. She had no idea about the hidden camera, the recording, or the hour that had left Nisha broken with guilt. She only registered the attitude and filed it away with a small, confused frown.
Behind the closed door Nisha sat on the edge of the bed again, the untouched coffee cooling in her hands. Rajesh still slept. The marks on her wrists had faded to faint pink lines. The physical evidence was almost gone. The guilt was not. It sat inside her like a second heartbeat, steady and painful, reminding her with every breath of the moans she had given to a man who was not her husband, of the orgasms she had reached while calling the wrong name, of the fact that she had hidden it all and would continue to hide it.
She stared at the floor and felt the tears threaten again. The day had only just begun, and already the weight of the secret felt heavier than the cuffs had the night before....
************'***********************×***********************
Priya stepped out into the narrow balcony that ran along the side of the house, the early morning air still cool against her skin. She closed the door quietly behind her so the sound would not carry back into the rooms. Raghu was already there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke drifting upward in thin grey lines. He had not slept much either. The phone in his pocket still held the long recording from the night before, locked behind a password only he knew.
Priya folded her arms and spoke in a low, tight voice.
“Nisha is getting angry at me for no reason. This morning when I took her coffee she answered so harshly. ‘What, Priya? Why are you disturbing so early?’ Like I did something wrong just by bringing her a cup. Her tone was completely different. Cold. Almost like she hates the sight of me.”
Raghu took a slow drag and exhaled. He did not look surprised.
“She’s on edge. Something is eating her from inside. That is good for us.”
Priya’s eyes flicked toward the closed windows of the main bedroom. “We can’t stay here like this, Raghu. Every day it feels heavier. She looks at me as if I am dirt under her feet, and now she is snapping for no reason. We can move back to our own house. At least there we won’t have to see her face every morning.”
Raghu turned fully toward her. The cigarette burned down between his fingers, ignored.
“No. We are not leaving.”
“Why? What is the point of staying and swallowing her attitude every day?”
His voice dropped even lower, edged with something hard and cold that had been growing for months.
“We should take revenge on her. Have you forgotten what happened to you because of her? Have you forgotten how they bangd you because of the case she pushed, the names she gave, the way she used us and then walked away clean? I still see the marks that never fully left your mind. And the accident—my accident—happened only because of the overtime and the pressure she created. I almost lost my leg because she wanted one more file closed before the deadline. And now look at her. She is happy. She is getting promotions. She smiles at dinner and talks about becoming Senior Circle Inspector while we are the ones losing sleep, losing peace, and soon maybe losing our jobs if she decides we are no longer useful.”
Priya’s arms tightened around herself. The old memories rose quickly—dark, unwanted, still sharp. She looked away toward the empty street.
“I haven’t forgotten. I live with it every day. But revenge… what can we even do? She is an officer. She has power. If we try anything and it goes wrong, we will be the ones destroyed.”
Raghu stepped closer, his voice steady and certain.
“That is why we stay. We stay until the PA gives the full plan. He already told me he is working on something clean, something that will not come back to us directly. We need to be here, close to her, watching her, learning her routines. The recording I have is only the beginning. She does not know it exists. She does not know how much she revealed while she thought she was safe. We use everything. We do not walk away while she keeps rising and we keep sinking.”
Priya was silent for a long moment. The cigarette smoke drifted between them. Finally she spoke, quieter now.
“You are sure the PA will actually help? Or is he only talking?”
“He will. He hates her for different reasons, but the hate is real. He said he will call within a few days with the next steps. Until then we stay. We smile when we have to. We take her rough words. We wait. Because if we leave now, she wins again. She gets the promotion, she forgets us, and everything she caused is buried. I will not let that happen.”
Priya exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of her shoulders. She still looked unhappy, still afraid of what revenge might cost, but she nodded once.
“All right. We stay. But if this plan starts to look too dangerous, we stop. I will not lose what little we have left.”
Raghu crushed the cigarette under his heel and looked back toward the house.
“It will not come to that. She took enough from us. Now it is our turn to take something from her. We wait for the PA. Until then, we remain exactly where we are.”
They stood in silence for another minute, the morning light growing stronger around them. Inside the house Nisha still sat with her untouched coffee, carrying a guilt she could not name out loud. Outside, the two people she had just spoken to harshly were already deciding that her rising career and her private shame would both become weapons in a revenge they had no intention of abandoning.
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