05-11-2026, 03:01 PM
Episode 26 : The Corridor
My hand hovered over the bolt, my whole body trembling. The night air still clung to my skin, and I could feel Bikram’s gaze burning into my back. I turned to face him, my voice barely a whisper.
“Bikram, please. Not this. There are three more flats on this floor. What if someone opens their door? What about the security guard?”
“Bineet’s shift ended half an hour ago,” Bikram said smoothly. “And the other neighbours are asleep. You have five minutes. Walk to the end of the corridor and back. No running, no covering yourself. Just walk.”
I shook my head, tears threatening. “This is too much. You’ve already made me do things I never imagined. I can’t—“
“You can.” His voice dropped, harder, like iron wrapped in silk. “Or I call Sunny right now and ask him to come pick you up. You know how he handled you last time. He won’t be gentle, and he won’t stop after five minutes. Choose.”
The threat landed in my stomach like a stone. My anger burned, but so did the strange, shameful heat between my thighs. I hated how my body always betrayed me—how obedience itself had become a form of pleasure.
“Fine,” I breathed. “Five minutes.”
I turned, unbolted the door, and stepped out. The corridor was dark, dimly lit by a single tube light at the far end. The cold cement bit into my bare soles. Every inch of me—my breasts, my thighs, the wetness still glistening on my skin—was exposed to the silent hallway. The closed doors of the three other flats loomed like watching eyes. I heard a faint television from behind one of them. A man’s voice laughed. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they could hear it.
I forced one step. Then another. My bare hips swayed with every stride, and I could feel the air moving across my nipples, tight and aching. I kept my eyes straight ahead, counting the floor tiles. At the end of the corridor, I had to stop and turn. The door of Sunny's Flat 3A was inches from my shoulder. If someone opened it, I would be face-to-face with them, completely naked.
I stood there. Waiting. Listening.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, I walked back—past the doors, past the dim light, past every invisible eye I imagined. And then the door of our flat opened, and Bikram’s hand closed around my wrist, pulling me inside. He slammed the door shut and pressed me against the wall, his mouth at my ear.
“That’s my girl.” His whisper was warm, possessive. “You did beautifully. Now we sleep.”
Exhaustion crashed over me, and I nodded. He carried me to the bedroom and wrapped himself around me. In the darkness, his breathing evened out, but mine stayed shallow. Something had shifted in me—I felt raw, open, and oddly safe in his arms.
Just before sleep, Bikram murmured, “I have to go on duty tomorrow. Rohan’s rental income—I owe him for these days. I’m short of money.”
I stirred, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Don’t leave me alone.”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Why didn’t you take the money Chotu offered yesterda?” I asked.
I felt Bikram blink against my hair. A long pause. Then he said, quietly, “I will think of it.” His voice was strange, almost sad.
That night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body still aching, my mind churning with images of being used, paid for, owned. I will be a randi. And the terrifying truth was that I craved it.I wanted to ask Bikram more, but sleep claimed me.
My hand hovered over the bolt, my whole body trembling. The night air still clung to my skin, and I could feel Bikram’s gaze burning into my back. I turned to face him, my voice barely a whisper.
“Bikram, please. Not this. There are three more flats on this floor. What if someone opens their door? What about the security guard?”
“Bineet’s shift ended half an hour ago,” Bikram said smoothly. “And the other neighbours are asleep. You have five minutes. Walk to the end of the corridor and back. No running, no covering yourself. Just walk.”
I shook my head, tears threatening. “This is too much. You’ve already made me do things I never imagined. I can’t—“
“You can.” His voice dropped, harder, like iron wrapped in silk. “Or I call Sunny right now and ask him to come pick you up. You know how he handled you last time. He won’t be gentle, and he won’t stop after five minutes. Choose.”
The threat landed in my stomach like a stone. My anger burned, but so did the strange, shameful heat between my thighs. I hated how my body always betrayed me—how obedience itself had become a form of pleasure.
“Fine,” I breathed. “Five minutes.”
I turned, unbolted the door, and stepped out. The corridor was dark, dimly lit by a single tube light at the far end. The cold cement bit into my bare soles. Every inch of me—my breasts, my thighs, the wetness still glistening on my skin—was exposed to the silent hallway. The closed doors of the three other flats loomed like watching eyes. I heard a faint television from behind one of them. A man’s voice laughed. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they could hear it.
I forced one step. Then another. My bare hips swayed with every stride, and I could feel the air moving across my nipples, tight and aching. I kept my eyes straight ahead, counting the floor tiles. At the end of the corridor, I had to stop and turn. The door of Sunny's Flat 3A was inches from my shoulder. If someone opened it, I would be face-to-face with them, completely naked.
I stood there. Waiting. Listening.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, I walked back—past the doors, past the dim light, past every invisible eye I imagined. And then the door of our flat opened, and Bikram’s hand closed around my wrist, pulling me inside. He slammed the door shut and pressed me against the wall, his mouth at my ear.
“That’s my girl.” His whisper was warm, possessive. “You did beautifully. Now we sleep.”
Exhaustion crashed over me, and I nodded. He carried me to the bedroom and wrapped himself around me. In the darkness, his breathing evened out, but mine stayed shallow. Something had shifted in me—I felt raw, open, and oddly safe in his arms.
Just before sleep, Bikram murmured, “I have to go on duty tomorrow. Rohan’s rental income—I owe him for these days. I’m short of money.”
I stirred, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Don’t leave me alone.”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Why didn’t you take the money Chotu offered yesterda?” I asked.
I felt Bikram blink against my hair. A long pause. Then he said, quietly, “I will think of it.” His voice was strange, almost sad.
That night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body still aching, my mind churning with images of being used, paid for, owned. I will be a randi. And the terrifying truth was that I craved it.I wanted to ask Bikram more, but sleep claimed me.