[Steel]

The twisted arousal and disquiet only swelled within him as he read the following entries. Rakesh was meticulous and thorough. He researched Laila's weaknesses and applied strategic pressure. Strangely, his aim wasn't to endear himself to Laila, but just the opposite. Rakesh worked to get under Laila's skin and make her obsessed with him.

The first week Rakesh walked into Laila’s evening yoga class he already knew exactly what needs to be done. The camera caught every shift of fabric, every deep fold of her thick thighs as she instructed the class, the narrow span of her waist twisting under the loose tank top. She held yoga poses longer than necessary, spine arched, hips open, and the recording captured every movement.

By the second week a small circle of married telugu baddies had begun clustering near him during the short water breaks. They laughed a little too loudly at whatever quiet thing he said. Laila noticed. She said nothing. She simply continued the class with the same precise voice, the same measured demonstrations, as if the soft chatter in the back corner did not exist.

He pushed Laila to give in to his desires on petty issues, supposedly as a way of "training her to submit." And, most importantly, he slowly weaved suggestive remarks and lewd jokes into their interactions until Laila began associating him with sex.

All of it was written in the same leering, gloating style, smugly confident that Laila would soon be his. Pictures and such short clips accompanied the updates, and Sharath couldn't help but note that, although her expression remained annoyed, there was a noticeable hungry edge to Laila's expression as the updates went on.

One evening she finally broke.

She turned fully toward him in the middle of the class, cheeks already warm, and asked in a sharp voice what exactly he thought he was doing.

Rakesh straightened, expression mild. “They kept asking about the stretch in the inner thighs during the wider postures. I told them the real opening only happens once you stop resisting.” He said with a sly grin.

The ladies next to him looked down at their mats. Laila’s jaw tightened. She told the entire class that any questions would be taken only at the end of the session, and only directed to her. She then turned back to the front and finished the sequence with a clipped efficiency that still could not hide the flush climbing her neck.

When the final asana for the day ended and the other students began rolling up their mats, Rakesh waited until the last of them had left. He approached her near the front of the room.

He had a doubt about chakrasana, he said. The wheel pose. Something about the way the hips lifted never felt quite right.

Laila’s expression stayed flat. She demonstrated once, dropping back into the pose with practiced ease, thighs thick and strong as she pressed upward, the thin fabric of her leggings stretched tight across the curve of her hips and the soft swell between them. The camera recorded every second of it.

He asked her to show him hands-on.

She told him to lie down. He did. She stood over him and watched him press up. His form was deliberately off, the lift incomplete. She knelt beside him, slipped her hands under the small of his back, and guided his hips higher. The movement brought her face close to the front of his track pants. The thick outline of his cock shifted against the fabric as his body rose, the ridge clear and heavy. She saw it. Thick and large even when flaccid. For a second her eyes stayed there, fixed on its shape. Then she realized he was watching her face. She looked away at once, with cheeks visibly red, and finished the adjustment with a colder voice than before.

The session was over. She still sounded angry, but Sharath could sense that the anger sat on top of something else that the recording captured just as clearly as the earlier flush.

He didn't understand why his fucking erection wasn't going down while his gut twisted with anxiety like this.

The parallels to Kusha's situation were obvious and disturbing. Sharath's wife was becoming more distracted with time, more obsessed with Rakesh. Was she thinking about him sexually at this point? Was she at that stage? Sharath shook his head. Of course not. She would never reach that stage. She was Kusha, not some easily manipulated slut.