[girrich9486]

Nisha’s mind was a storm of fury and confusion. The bastards had been playing with her for hours—pain and forced pleasure braided together until she could no longer tell which was which. Blindfolded, wrists bound high above her head, ankles secured so that her legs were forced open, she had been left hanging in the bright light. Every time she drifted toward exhaustion, a new torment pulled her back. Soft, helpless sounds kept escaping her throat against her will.
Then the blindfold was torn away.
Harsh light stabbed her eyes. She squeezed them shut, tears leaking, and forced them open again. The shape in front of her resolved into a face she knew too well. Raghu. Her subordinate. The man who had worked under her for years.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Raghu…?” The word came out cracked and wet.
He laughed, low and ugly. “Yes, madam. Your senior and beautiful officer is only me.”
Nisha lunged forward on pure instinct. The ropes jerked her back; her wrists burned. Shame flooded her face as she realised he was staring at every inch of her naked body—the heavy breasts that had always strained her uniform shirts, the soft belly, the dark thatch between her spread thighs, the glistening evidence of earlier forced orgasms still coating her skin.
“You bastard,” she snarled, voice shaking. “You pig. You worked for me. You took my orders. Now you stand there looking at me like this?”
Raghu stepped closer. His hand rose and two fingers pressed firmly across her lips. “Ssshhh. Shut up, my bitch madam.”
The same hand slid down her throat, over her collarbone, and closed around her left breast. He squeezed, slow and deliberate, feeling the weight of it, the way the soft flesh overflowed his palm. His other hand claimed the right breast. He pressed both together, thumbs circling the swollen nipples until they stood out like dark gbangs.
Nisha’s body jerked. A helpless, high sound escaped her throat—half protest, half unwanted response.
“Ahhh—nnnh… don’t…”
“Due to you my wife suffered,” he said, voice almost conversational. “Due to you I suffered. You paid the hospital bill, yes. But the accident happened because of the work you gave me. They targeted me because I was yours. You knew the threat. You left us exposed.”
“I didn’t—ahhh!”
He bent and took one nipple into his mouth. Wet heat closed around it. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, tongue flicking the tip. The wet surp-surp sound filled the quiet room. Nisha’s head fell back against the restraint. Her hips tried to twist away and only succeeded in pushing her breast deeper into his mouth. A long, trembling moan spilled out of her.
“Mmmmaaahhh… Raghhuuu… stoppp…”
He released the nipple with a final hard pull that made her cry out, then moved to the other breast and gave it the same ruthless attention. While he sucked, one hand slid down her stomach, through the thatch of hair, and two thick fingers drove straight into her cunt. No preamble. Hard and deep.
Nisha’s whole body arched.
“Haaaa—nooooo, Raghuuuu—ahhhnnn!”
He fucked her with those fingers in short, brutal strokes, curling them against the front wall until her thighs trembled. Juices ran down his wrist. He added a third finger and stretched her wider, watching her face twist between pain and the unwanted heat that kept building. Soft, broken moans kept spilling from her open mouth with every thrust of his hand.
“Ahhh… ahhh… it hurts… please… mmmnnn…”
“My wife was gang-banged that day,” he said, still pumping. “You should have kept security on the house. You didn’t. Why did you neglect us?”
“Don’t trust them—Raghu, stop—please—ahhhnnn!”









“Ahhh… ahhh… it hurts… please… mmmnnn…”
“My wife was gang-banged that day,” he said, still pumping. “You should have kept security on the house. You didn’t. Why did you neglect us?”
“Don’t trust them—Raghu, stop—please—ahhhnnn!”
He ignored the words. He freed one of her ankles, lifted the leg high, and tied it so that her thigh was pulled up and open. Her cunt was fully displayed—pink, wet, gaping slightly from his fingers. He stared at it for a long moment, then pushed the fingers back in and began to work her again, slower this time, deeper, twisting on every withdrawal so that she felt every knuckle.
Nisha’s protests dissolved into broken gasps and high, helpless cries.
“Haaa… haaa… nnnnooo… too deep… ahhh!”
Her free leg kicked uselessly. Sweat ran between her breasts. The ropes creaked with every involuntary roll of her hips. Soft, continuous moans poured from her throat, rising and falling with the rhythm of his hand.
When he finally pulled his hand free, it was shiny to the wrist. He wiped it across her belly, then across her mouth so she tasted herself. She whimpered at the taste.
“Now,” he said, “we even the score.”
He stripped without hurry. His cock was already thick and hard, the head dark and wet. He stepped between her forced-open thighs, lined himself up, and drove in with one long thrust.
The stretch was sudden and complete. Nisha’s cry tore out of her, raw and loud.
“AAAAHHH—Raghhuuuuu—too big—ahhhnnn!”
He filled her completely, balls pressed against her, and held still for a second so she could feel every inch. Then he began to fuck her.
First angle: straight on, standing, her body suspended and open. He gripped her hips and slammed deep, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the room. Each thrust forced a sharp, high cry from her. Her breasts bounced hard with every impact. He watched them, then leaned in and bit one while he kept thrusting, never slowing.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh—slow down—please—nnnhhh!”
Her voice broke on every deep stroke, moans turning into short, desperate sobs of pleasure-pain.
When her cries started to edge toward the high, desperate sound of another forced orgasm, he pulled out. She let out a long, frustrated whimper at the sudden emptiness.








Second angle: he turned her. The ropes allowed limited movement; he spun her so she faced away, arms still stretched high, one leg still elevated. He entered her from behind in a single hard push. The new angle let him go deeper.
“HAAAA—oh god—so deep—ahhhnnn!”
He reached around, found her clit, and rubbed it in tight circles while he fucked her with long, punishing strokes. His other hand kept a firm grip on her hip, controlling the depth.
“Feel that?” he growled against her ear. “This is what my wife felt. Helpless. Used. You left us to it.”
Nisha could only make broken, animal sounds—high, continuous moans that rose into sharp cries every time he bottomed out.
“Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh… Raghhuuu… I can’t… mmmmaaahhh!”
The new position pressed the head of his cock against a place that made her vision spark. Her free leg shook so hard the restraint rattled. Soft, wet sounds mixed with her rising cries until her voice cracked into a long, shuddering wail as the first forced climax ripped through her.
He kept that angle until her cunt clenched rhythmically around him and a fresh rush of fluid coated his balls. Only then did he pull out again. She hung there gasping, soft broken moans still leaking from her lips.
Third angle: he lowered her slightly by adjusting the wrist ropes, brought a low padded bench under her, and forced her to kneel on it while still bound. Her chest rested on the edge, ass high, face turned to the side. He stood behind her and drove back in. From this angle he could watch his cock disappear into her, watch the way her swollen lips stretched around him, watch the trickle of her own juices running down the inside of her thighs. He gripped both cheeks, spread her open, and fucked her with short, deep punches that made her whole body jerk forward against the bench.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh—yes—no—ahhhnnn!”
A larger vibrator appeared in his hand. He pressed the thick head against her clit and turned it on high. The dual sensation—deep cock and relentless vibration—tore a raw, full-throated scream from her.
“AAAAHHHHH—Raghhuuuuu—too much—ahhhnnn—I’m—I’m—”
Her orgasm hit hard and ugly, muscles locking, cunt milking him in frantic pulses. She cried out continuously through it, voice high and broken, until a second wave crashed over the first and left her sobbing and limp, soft whimpering moans still escaping with every aftershock.









Only then did he slow.
He pulled out, turned her onto her back on the bench, and re-tied her wrists above her head so she was stretched flat. Her legs he forced wide and high, almost to her shoulders, and secured them. Completely open. Completely available.
He mounted her and sank in again, slower this time, watching her face. This angle let him grind deep on every stroke, pelvis rubbing her clit. He leaned down and took a nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make her whimper while he rolled his hips in a steady, relentless rhythm.
“You were always so proud,” he said, voice rough. “Giving orders. Looking down on us. Now look at you.”
Nisha’s eyes were glassy. Tears tracked into her hair. Soft, continuous moans poured from her open mouth with every deep grind.
“Mmmnnn… ahhh… ahhh… please… it feels… ahhhnnn…”
Every deep thrust forced a soft, broken sound from her. Her cunt was so wet the bench beneath her was dark with it. Her cries grew higher, more desperate, as he changed the pace—long withdrawals almost to the tip, then sudden full thrusts that punched the air from her lungs.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh—Raghhuuu—I’m going to—ahhhnnn!”
He did it again and again until her body was trembling continuously, on the edge of another climax she could neither stop nor control. When it hit, her voice rose into a long, keening cry that filled the room.
When he finally decided to finish, he pulled out, straddled her chest, and pushed his cock between her breasts. He pressed them together around the slick shaft and fucked the soft channel he made, the head nudging her chin with every stroke. Come erupted in thick ropes across her throat, her collarbones, the upper slopes of her breasts. He milked the last drops onto her nipples, then rubbed the head through the mess, marking her. Soft, exhausted whimpers left her lips the whole time.
He was not finished.
After a short rest he was hard again. He untied one of her legs, rolled her onto her side, and entered her from behind once more—spoon position, but with her upper body still restrained so she could not escape the depth. One hand reached around to pinch and roll her clit while he fucked her in long, grinding strokes. The other hand kept a breast captive, squeezing in time with his thrusts.
“Ahhh… ahhh… so deep like this… mmmnnn… Raghhuuu…”
This angle was slower, more intimate, almost worse. She felt every ridge, every pulse. Her body, already oversensitive, responded helplessly. Soft, continuous moans turned into sharp little cries every time he ground against her clit. Another orgasm was dragged out of her, weaker but still sharp enough to make her sob out loud.
“Haaa—ahhh—I’m coming again—ahhhnnn!”
He kept going.
Eventually he flipped her onto her stomach on the bench, pulled her hips up, and took her from behind again—deeper this time, almost brutal. The new angle let him reach places that made her see white. He used the vibrator on her clit at the same time, forcing yet another climax while he chased his own.
“AAAAHHHHH—Raghhuuuuu—too deep—ahhhnnn—I can’t—ahhh!”
When he came the second time it was deep inside her, flooding her, overflowing around his cock and running down her thighs. Nisha’s voice broke into a long, raw moan of pure overwhelmed sensation as she felt him pulse inside her.
He stayed buried for a long minute, breathing hard against her back. Then he pulled out slowly, watching the thick mixture of come and her own juices drip from her open cunt. Soft, exhausted whimpers still left her lips with every small aftershock.
Nisha hung in the ropes, shaking, marked, used. Her mind was a blank roar of humiliation, residual pleasure, and cold, growing rage. Soft broken sounds kept escaping her throat even after he stopped moving.
Raghu walked around to her face, lifted her chin, and made her look at him.
“This is only the beginning, madam,” he said quietly. “You left my family to suffer. Now you get to feel what that means. Every day. Every way. Until I decide you’ve paid enough.”
He turned away to clean himself, leaving her still bound, still open, the evidence of everything he had done cooling on her skin. Soft, helpless little moans still slipped from her lips every time her oversensitive body twitched.















She had sworn she would not break.
She was beginning to understand that breaking was no longer the point. Survival was. And revenge—when she finally got free—would be colder and slower than anything he had just done to her.
For now, though, the ropes held, the door stayed locked, and Raghu’s footsteps returned.
He was not finished.
Not even close.