[tharkibudda]

 Chapter 6 - My wife through the lens of CCTV

The software interface was indeed advanced, filled with options and menus that looked like a foreign language to my untrained eyes. I picked up one of the instruction manuals, the one with the English translations, and began to sift through the pages, trying to find the section on accessing the recorded footage.


My heart raced as I finally found the right button, labeled "Live Feed." With trembling fingers, I clicked on it, and the screen split into three quadrants, each displaying a different view of my own house. There it was—our bedroom, my sanctuary with Dhristi, exposed and vulnerable. The camera was angled perfectly, capturing every inch of our intimate space, from the rumpled sheets of our bed to the open doorway of the bathroom, where we had shared countless moments of tenderness and passion.

I also checked the other feeds, there were two cameras from the living room covering both sides. The feed was astonishingly high quality, like watching a scene from a DVD on a widescreen television.

The manual had been thorough. It described a system that was both clever and disturbing in its design. It would auto-erase the older videos by date The software was also intuitive, pausing recording if no movement was detected for two minutes, only to reactivate when any motion occurred.It also zoomed wherever there was action. I wasn't sure if he got it from the CIA or the KGB.

The cameras, I discovered, were not the usual tiny pinhole lenses. These were ingenious contraptions, cleverly disguised as fuse boxes and light bulbs. The previous owner had gone to great lengths to ensure they remained powered and undetectable, even installing them in the most inconspicuous places.

With a heavy heart, I navigated to the "Recordings" tab. The screen was a grid of thumbnails, each representing an hour of our lives, neatly packaged and timestamped. The dates stretched back almost a year, a testament to our unknowing performance for a silent audience.

For a moment, I hovered over the delete button, my finger poised to erase every second of our intimate moments. But then, I paused. The curiosity that had brought me to this room in the first place grew stronger. It was our house, our life. Was it truly an invasion of privacy if I watched? After all, it was just us, Dhristi and me.

My gaze flitted over the grid of thumbnails, and I found myself drawn to one from the day we had moved in. I clicked on it, and the video began to play. Dhristi, in a simple cotton sari, her hair tied back in a loose bun, her eyes wide with excitement as she explored the new house.

Her voice, so innocent and pure, filled the room, and I felt a pang of guilt for invading her privacy. But as I watched her, my heart swelled with love and a strange sort of nostalgia. This was our life, captured in a way that was both intimate and eerie.

I fast-forwarded through the days, watching the blur of activity as we settled into the house. The images were a silent film of our existence, a visual diary of our moments together. And as I watched, I couldn't help but feel a strange thrill, a voyeuristic delight in seeing our life from this new perspective.

So she wakes up at 5:30 am, bathes and then starts preparing breakfast and lunch for my office. I wake at 7am and then get ready. We eat breakfast together and then I leave for the office. She cleans up and then does her pooja.

Then she goes outside to water the plants and then comes back and takes rest. Then she has lunch and sleeps until evening when I arrive home. We discuss our day, She tells me about the neighbors she's met, the local gossip. I regale her with tales from the office, the petty squabbles and the occasional victory that keep my days from being entirely monotonous.

I checked the next two days and it looked almost similar. Then I got a bit horny and pulled in the bedroom footage. I adjusted the software to display all three cameras at the same time in split screen and I could zoom in and zoom out each of them.

The timestamp showed 9:35 PM, and we had just finished watching our favorite TV serial in the living room. The screen flickered, and suddenly, we were in our bedroom.

On the screen, my hand reached out to Dhristi, the fabric of her green sari whispering against my skin as I drew her into me. Our bodies melded together in a passionate embrace, my hands greedily roaming over her curves, tracing the contours of her body as if I were blind and she the map to a hidden treasure. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, she surrendered to the kiss with a soft moan that sent a shiver down my spine. The sight of us, captured in high definition, was almost too much to bear.

Her blouse gave way to my eager fingers, the hooks popping open like the petals of a blooming flower. She was naked from the waist up, her breasts heaving with every breath she took, the nipples tight with anticipation. The camera zoomed in, capturing every detail—the goosebumps that pebbled her skin, the way the soft light kissed her curves, the flush that spread across her cheeks like wildfire.

On the screen, Dhristi's 34C breasts looked like heavenly mounds, a feast for the eyes that seemed to jiggle and bounce with every movement. For a woman that short and petite, those breasts looked big and juicy.

My eyes couldn't help but drift to the bed, where our silhouettes danced in the flickering ight. The camera had captured us in various stages of undress, our limbs tangled as we explored each other's bodies like eager teenagers. It was a raw, unfiltered look at our love life, and it was strangely arousing.

I watched as my hand moved down my own body to my crotch. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the screen as my fingers wrapped around my erection, stroking it to the rhythm of my movements in the video. The sight of Drishti, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent scream, was almost too much to handle.

On screen, my hips began to buck, my thrusts growing more urgent as Dhristi's moans grew louder. Her body arched back, her hands clawing at the bedspread, as I pushed into her with a primal need that was as clear in the recording as it had been in that moment. The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate in the very walls of the house.

And as I watched, my hand mimicking the movements from the video, I realized the strange thrill of it all. Here I was, masturbating to the sight of my own wife, our most intimate moments laid bare for my own eyes. The taboo nature of it all only served to heighten my arousal. It was like watching porn, but it was us.

The digital image of Dhristi on the screen was a siren's call, her eyes wide and wild with desire, her mouth open in a silent scream that seemed to echo through the room. I watched as my digital doppelgänger pounded into her, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, the camera capturing every bead of sweat that rolled down her body.

"Aannh annh," I heard her moan, the sound so real it was as if she were in the room with me. I looked around, momentarily disoriented, before realizing that the moan had come from the computer's speakers. The hidden boom mike and sophisticated software had picked up her cries, filtering them through the cacophony of our noisy fan. Her moans were like a symphony of need, so seductive that I couldn't help but start stroking myself in time to the rhythm of our love making on the screen.

My hand moved in a hypnotic pattern, matching the digital version of me as it plunged into Dhristi's welcoming warmth.

"Ohhh,...aahhhh…aahhhhh," she murmured, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on me, even as I sat in the chair, the real Drishti miles away, her digital twin captured in the throes of passion.

The digital Dhristi's voice grew louder, her moans becoming more insistent. My hand moved faster, the friction of skin on skin matching the rhythm of the scene before me. I could feel the pressure building, my heart racing as the digital me was closer and closer to climax.

And then it Climaxed 

A warm, sticky release coated my hand as I watched my digital counterpart reach the pinnacle of their union. I had never felt more connected to Drishti, and yet so far apart. The video played on, our digital selves caught in the throes of passion, oblivious to the silent observer in the room.

The smell of semen hung heavy in the air, a phantom echo of the act I had just witnessed—no, participated in. I quickly grabbed a towel and wiped the mess from the monitor, a strange sense of guilt washing over me. It wasn’t just the act of masturbation that bothered me—it was the realization that I had taken a part of our relationship and turned it into something... tainted.

The digital clock on the desk read 11:05 AM. The day was already in full swing outside, and I hadn’t even had breakfast. With the house to myself and a hunger gnawing at my stomach, I decided to take a break from the disturbing revelation and head out for brunch.

As I sat down at the restaurant, the weight of the previous night's discovery settled on my shoulders. The digital echoes of our most intimate moments played in my mind . I couldn't shake the feeling of being both the star and the peeping Tom.

The aroma of food wafted through the air, but my appetite was for something entirely different. I couldn't help but think of the videos stored in the computer back home. The temptation to save some of them, to keep a secret archive of our love, was a siren's call that grew stronger with each passing moment.

I picked at my plate showing no interest. The videos played on a loop in my mind—Dhristi's moans, her arched back, the way she looked at me with love and desire. The digital me, captured in high definition, was a haunting specter of our most private moments. I knew I needed to delete them, erase the evidence of our unwitting exhibitionism. But the idea of losing those memories forever was a knot in my stomach.

What if someone had hacked the system? What if our most intimate moments were already scattered across the dark corners of the internet, waiting to be discovered by prying eyes?
The thought of our privacy being so blatantly violated, our love a spectacle for the world to see in those private "MMS Videos". The digital footage was a Pandora's box, one that I had no right to open, yet I found myself drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

After eating , I couldn't resist the urge to return to the computer. I sat in the dimly lit room, the screen's glow casting eerie shadows on my face. My hand hovered over the mouse, the cursor blinking like a silent accusation. I clicked on the "Recordings" tab, the grid of thumbnails staring back at me like a wall of judgment.

The next video was from a week later, timestamped at 9:43 PM. Dhristi and I were in our bedroom, and she had switched off the light leaving us totally in the dark. I knew she still had issues being undressed in light , her conservative upbringing had instilled in her a deep sense of modesty that was hard to shake off.

The camera had indeed switched to a dark mode, the infrared lenses picking up every move in a grainy, monochrome dance of shadows.As the video played, I saw myself moving closer to Dhristi, my hand reaching out to trace the outline of her body in the darkness. She gasped, her breaths quickening as my touch grew bolder. 

The sight was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the brightly lit scenes from our earlier encounters. The absence of light had transformed Drishti, her inhibitions shed like a second skin. Her moans grew more pronounced, her movements more sensual as she reveled in the anonymity the darkness provided.

On the screen, she rolled over, her eyes gleaming like twin embers in the night. Her hand reached for me, beckoning me closer. I watched, my own hand moving with a mind of its own, tracing the same path my digital self was taking. The room was a silent witness to our union, the only sound the muffled sighs and gasps that filled the air.

Dhristi's digital form was a canvas of shadows and light. Her breasts, those perfect orbs of desire, bobbed with every shift of her body. The camera had captured every detail, every tremor of pleasure that rippled through her.

As the video played, I found myself drawn into the scene, my hand moving in a silent rhythm. I watched as my digital counterpart leaned in, capturing her mouth with a kiss. Her hand reached up, tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, her body arching into mine. The room was alive with the sound of our breaths, the rustling of fabric, and the soft slap of skin meeting skin.

And then it hit me—another climax, this one more intense than the last. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen, my hand still moving in time with the digital me. The sight of Dhristi’s naked body, the sound of her cries of pleasure, the raw intimacy of the moment—it was all too much.

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with the scent of our masturbation. I stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair with a clatter that shattered the quiet. I needed to get out, to clear my head. I couldn’t bear the thought of those moments being lost to the abyss of our love reduced to a series of pixels and code.

My mind raced as I hurried to the local electronics store, . I needed to find a storage device for our digital memories, to store before I delete them all.  The irony wasn't lost on me—I was now the one eager to record, to keep these moments for myself.

I took the USB and hurried home, my heart racing. I locked the door behind me and rushed to the computer, eager to transfer the files before I lost my nerve.

As I plugged in the USB, the screen flickered to life, and the grid of thumbnails stared back at me . Each one a window to a moment of our lives that now felt tainted, exposed.

While analysing the videos,I noticed a pattern. The videos of weekdays, with their smaller file sizes, were a stark reminder of the time I was in office while Dhristi was home alone due to which she slept a lot. The weekends, however, were different.They were bulkier, filled with more moments. The pattern was clear except on days we spent the afternoons outside.

But there it was, the anomaly, glaring at me —a file labeled "0413XX.AVI." The digits danced before my eyes, taunting me with their silent secrets. Thursday, April 13th. It was even bigger than all the previous files. Why would a weekday hold more footage than our weekends?

The cursor hovered over the thumbnails, each one a frozen moment in time, a potential gateway to a truth I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover. Yet, something about that date, April 13th, itched at the back of my mind like an unscratchable mosquito bite. It wasn't our birthday or marriage anniversary or  any significant event, yet it called out to me, whispering in a language I could almost understand.

With a deep breath and trembling hand, I clicked on the file "0413XX.AVI." The screen flickered to life, and the scene unfolded before me—our bedroom in the early morning, which got motion activated when she woke up, the same as in the other videos, but something was off.

I could literally feel it.

[tharkibudda]

Thank you all for your patience when i was busy and the flurry of comments as I wrote the next chapter.

In this society where we are not getting any money for writing erotica, such encouragement is the only currency which keeps us motivated.

In order to make up for my absence, I have given two BIG updates this week. I will keep continuing.

As I said before, this idea was given to me by someone else in literotica and its still very open ended story and I can add or change narratives if I choose fit. So you can provide your suggestions if needed.

As I said,its a big of cuckold but not completely because for both the husbands, they are only watching the archived footages which they have no control.

I would thank @exbiixossip2 for the nice pic he had generated. it is a good representation of Dhristi. Very cute and innocent looking face of a sanskari but a nice sexy body despite being short and petite

[tharkibudda]

Hey, that's really good writing. Can you give a timeline of events? When did they move from Mumbai? how many months were spent at the new place? when did the out of town work trips begin?
Was there just the one video or are there more?

Thanks 

To be honest, I'm not writing a nolan level story . .. you will find plot holes bigger to drive a truck...

My idea is to start with one or maybe two characters and then add more if it plot demands and readers have interest still...

Based on that , I'll either pull along the story or end it with a climax I've already decided..

But im open for suggestions if needed ..

Next update is going to be tough as it is start of the action after i set the premise until now

[tharkibudda]

This story has the potential to be one of the best in xossipy and you have just started. Its going great. Ending it too soon would be wrong.

Thanks , but you remember the nukkad guys story in old xossip.. was a huge hit but got bored because she couldn't finish and kept adding new characters..

For now I've 2 or 3 characters in scope .. will try my best to organically add scenarios or it will become same "new character, fucks wife, she don't resist"

[tharkibudda]

free foto site

How's sheeee????

She is too modern for Dhristi.. maybe she can be a good selection for the owners wife..

Dhristi has the most innocent looking face in the world and village upbringing 

[tharkibudda]

Have some work this week.. hopefully will try to give an update by end

[tharkibudda]

where its going to end

The story didn't even start in terms of plot

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 7 - April 13th

As the video loaded, the anticipation was palpable—like waiting for a roller coaster to climb that first hill before the inevitable drop into a world of chaos and excitement. The digital clock ticked away the seconds, each one a countdown to the revelation that lay within. And when the images began to play, my heart sank.

The screens flickered to life, revealing the all-too-familiar scene of our bedroom at 5:30 AM. Dhristi stirred in the bed, the soft light from the early morning sun filtering through the curtains.The digital Dhristi sat up, her eyes blinking sleepily as she stretched her arms above her head.

Her routine was the same as every other day: she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool tile floor, and padded softly to the kitchen. The camera in the faux light bulb followed her, capturing her every move. She washed her face, her sari hanging loosely around her, and began to prepare breakfast.

It was a sight I had seen a hundred times before, yet now it felt strange, as if I were a ghost haunting my own life. As I watched, the digital clock in the corner ticked past 7 AM, the time I usually woke up to join her in the morning rituals.

On screen, my digital self emerged from the bathroom, freshly shaved and dressed in a  shirt and trousers. . Dhristi served me tea and breakfast and we shared a quiet moment before I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. The digital footage was eerily mundane, yet it was tainted by the knowledge that our privacy had been violated.

After my digital self left for work, the camera remained focused on Dhristi, who was now dressed in a simple salwar kameez. She moved around the house, completing her morning choresThe sun had fully risen by the time she made her way to the garden.

As I watched the video, Dhristi's movements grew slower, more deliberate. She paused at the doorway, her hand clutching her stomach. A flash of pain crossed her face, and she took a deep, steadying breath. My heart ached for her, knowing she was dealing with the discomfort of her period.

Her footsteps faltered, and she retreated back to our bedroom, her eyes downcast. She climbed onto the bed as she pulled the sheet around herself.. Her hand pressed against her stomach, and she curled into a ball. The camera then went to off mode because of no activity.

I fast-forwarded through the morning footage, my curiosity piqued by the sheer size of the file. When the clock hit 1 PM, the scene abruptly changed. Dhristi stirred from her slumber, her eyes blinking open with a start. The camera, ever vigilant, switched on as if it had been waiting for her movement, the red light flickering to life like an unblinking eye in the darkness.

She sat up slowly, With a sigh, she began to remove her clothes, one by one. The camera's unblinking gaze followed her as she stood naked before it,.  She crossed to the laundry basket, her panties stained with the crimson tide of her cycle.

With meticulous care, she folded the soiled garment, placing it in the basket with a gentle respect that spoke volumes about her character. The sight of her bare body was like a sculpture of purity and grace, even in her vulnerability. She was getting ready to take a bath as she used to during her periods.

But the tranquility of the moment was shattered by an unexpected knock at the door. Dhristi's eyes widened with surprise, her hand hovering over the basket for a brief second before she pulled the sheet around herself. The knock grew more insistent, echoing through the empty house like a drumbeat that grew louder with every heart thump.

Her eyes darted to the clock—it was 1 PM, a time when no one ever visited, especially not with such urgency. With trembling hands, she reached for a nearby nightie and slipped it on hastily, not bothering with a bra or panties. The fabric clung to her damp skin as she rushed to the door, her heart hammering against her ribs.

As Dhristi pulled open the door, the camera in the living room captured the intrusion of a familiar face: Lakhan Chand, my boss at Chand Tiles, his expression a curious mix of concern and... something else.

"Namaste,you must be Manav's wife ," he said, his eyes lingering a beat too long on her flustered state. "I'm Lakhan Chand, his employer."

Dhristi 's eyes widened in recognition, but she remained frozen in place, the door a flimsy barrier between her and the unexpected visitor. "Oh, Mr. Chand," she stammered, her hand tightening around the sheet. "Please come in?"

Lakhan Chand stepped into the house, his eyes scanning the living room with a hunger that made me uneasy. He was dressed in his usual crisp white shirt and khaki pants, a stark contrast to Dhristi 's disheveled appearance.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "But Manav seems to have taken some important files home by mistake, and we're in a bit of a bind at the office."

Dhristi 's brow furrowed. "Files? What files?"

"It's about the tax audit," Lakhan Chand said, his eyes never leaving hers. "Manav must have brought them home by mistake. I need to retrieve them."

Now I understood why the date April 13th was so similar to me. I had filed the previous year's taxes by March 25th. But some corrupt officer had flagged it for an audit to squeeze more money and wanted additional documents. I had taken some of them home the previous week .

When I informed Lakhan, he got pissed and scolded me for taking such important files home and then told he will personally retrieve it while I work on the filing and asked for my address. I didn't know what happened next as I was busy preparing the filing.

Now, as I watched the screen, my heart thudded in anticipation. Dhristi  searched through the bookshelves, her breasts jiggling slightly with each movement, her lack of underwear making her more vulnerable than she knew. Lakhan sat on the couch, his gaze never straying from her as she moved around the room.

When she finally found the files, she walked over to him. As she bent down to hand them to him, the nightie fell away slightly, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage. My heart skipped a beat as I watched the digital Drishti, knowing what he could see. Lakhan took the files, his eyes never leaving her chest. The way he took his time to look her over, the leisurely way he accepted the files, was unmistakable.

But Dhristi  had had enough. She straightened up, pulling the nightie back in place with a firm tug, and walked away. She left Lakhan sitting there, the files in his hand, his eyes lingering on the spot where she had been. The tension in the room was thick, a palpable presence that the digital recording had somehow captured and preserved.

Realising that he had made her uncomfortable, Lakhan said " Don't bother me ,ma'am. You can leave to your bedroom while I will verify these files and then leave"

As the video played on, I watched Drishti retreat to the safety of our bedroom, her back rigid with dignity. She closed the door firmly behind her and listened closely to hear if Lakhan was still there.

The digital clock ticked away the seconds, each one a silent scream in my ears. I knew what was coming next, and yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, and I heard the unmistakable sound of the main door slamming shut. The video feed flickered for a moment, the camera in the hallway capturing the brief chaos before it steadied again. Lakhan was still engrossed in the files, completely oblivious to the fact that the door had just locked them both in.

Dhristi , on the other hand, had mistaken the sound for Lakhan's departure. She let out a sigh of relief so heavy that even the digital audio picked it up. She pulled the nightie over her head, revealing her naked form to the c lens of the camera. Her skin was flushed from the rush of adrenaline, her nipples hard and erect because of her encounter with Lakhan.

With shaky hands, she wrapped a towel around herself and made her way to the bathroom.

The digital clock on the computer read 1:22 PM. Lakhan Chand was still in the house, his presence a silent, unnerving backdrop to Dhristi 's solitude. The bedroom door creaked slightly as the wind pushed it open, the camera in the bedroom suddenly springing to life as it detected movement.

Dhristi  appeared, wrapped in a simple white towel, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders like a second skin. She had taken a quick shower to wash away the tension and the stickiness of her period. The towel barely contained her full breasts, the fabric clinging to her wet body like a second skin, revealing the tantalizing curves of her figure.

As she moved about the room, the camera in the bedroom followed her unabashedly, capturing the intimate moments of a woman who thought she was alone. She removed the towel, letting it drop to the floor in a whisper of fabric, and stood before the bed.Her skin was a canvas of water droplets, each one glistening in the soft glow of the room. Dhristi  picked up the towel and began to dry her body.

On the screen, Lakhan remained in the living room, he had stopped checking the files and his eyes glued to the TV that was eerily blank. I could see his reflection on the TV screen, his gaze intense and unyielding. My heart raced as the realization dawned on me—he wasn’t watching the TV. He was watching her as the reflection of the bedroom was projected on it.

Suddenly, the digital Lakhan snapped up. He set the files aside and stood up, his movements deliberate and predatory. He stepped out of the living room, the camera in the hallway tracking him as he made his way towards the bedroom, his footsteps silent on the carpet.

As he approached the bedroom door, it swung open with a soft creak, revealing Drishti  in all her naked glory. She had just stepped out of the shower and was drying herself off with the towel, her eyes closed in relaxation.

I watched in horror as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks—this was recorded footage, a moment frozen in past that I couldn't change. I was powerless to stop what was about to unfold on the screen, a helpless witness to the invasion of my wife's private space.

Dhristi 's eyes snapped open, and she saw Lakhan standing there, his eyes feasting on her exposed body. The towel slipped from her grasp, pooling around her feet like a discarded garment, leaving her completely bare before him. Her face contorted into an expression of pure terror, and she instinctively tried to cover herself, but she was too late.

Lakhan stepped into the room, his eyes dark with a hunger that made my blood run cold. He moved slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving hers, his hands clenched at his sides.

[tharkibudda]

I was right ... at least in the first part of this comment ... and thankfully wrong for the second part ...

... now lets see how Lakhan Chand gets her to spread her legs willingly for him ... her behavior in the weeks preceding her departure makes clear that though she may have suffered pangs of guilt and confusion ... the fornication between her and Lakhan Chand was consensual ... something that she enjoyed immensely and he fulfilled her the way her husband could not ... will it be the sheer attraction of his masculinity or his charm or blackmail or threats or a combination of it all ...

... let the lusty tale unfold ...

I know it was obvious because he is the only character who was named before other than the couple. But lot of them were just waiting for it to unfold so I didnt want to spoil the surprise and replying to you...

Yes there will a lot of fornincation soon

[tharkibudda]

  Chapter 8 - April 13th- A Storm is coming

Dhristi stood frozen, her wet hair plastered to her body, her breasts heaving with fear. She had been caught in the most vulnerable of moments, her nakedness laid bare for Lakhan to see.


Lakhan's eyes roved over her like a starving man eyeing a banquet. His pupils dilated with lust, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Dhristi's shocked gasp echoed through the room as she frantically tried to cover herself with her trembling hands. "Nahi, Lakhan sahab " she whispered, her voice shaking.

Lakhan's eyes were dark with desire, his pupils dilated as he took in the sight of her naked body. He took a step closer, the sound of his shoes on the tiles a harsh contrast to the silence of the room.

Dhristi's heart raced as she clutched at the towel, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity. "Lakhan sahab, please," she begged, her voice trembling. But he was unmoved, his hand reaching out to take the towel from her.

With surprising strength, Lakhan ripped the towel away, exposing her completely to his hungry gaze. She stumbled back, her legs wobbly with fear and the aftermath of her shower, trying to find a semblance of shelter in the unyielding wall.

Dhristi's eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything—that could serve as a barrier between them. But the room was unforgivingly bare, offering no protection from Lakhan's advancing form. His breathing grew heavy, his chest rising and falling with an urgency that matched the pulsing throb between her legs.

He reached for her, his hands grasping her wrists with surprising force, and pulled her closer. She resisted, her body rigid with fear and revulsion, but his grip was unyielding. His mouth descended upon hers, his teeth grazing her bottom lip.

I watched in horror from the computer as my boss was trying to kiss my wife, but I couldn't do anything. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, every second stretching into an eternity of dread. The digital world had invaded our sanctuary, turning it into a stage for a perverse play that I never wanted to see.

On the screen, Lakhan's mouth crushed down on Dhristi's, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made me sick. She was trying to resist, her eyes wide with fear and her body tense, but his strength was overpowering.

Her muffled protests were lost against his greedy kiss, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth as if he owned her. He pushed her harder against the wall, the cold tiles digging into her bare skin. The digital feed captured every moment of her struggle, every quiver of her body, every whimper that escaped her lips.

And then, suddenly, she was free. Dhristi's hand flew up with the swiftness of a snake strike, and she slapped Lakhan with all the power she could muster. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the digital recording.

Lakhan's head snapped back, the shock etched on his face as clear as day. His hand flew to his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell?" he spat out, his voice thick with anger and lust.

But then his eyes flared up as if a monster inside got awakened. His pupils narrowed into slits, and a wicked smile played on his lips. Dhristi trembled as she saw the change in him, the way his eyes darkened to a deep, almost inhuman shade. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air thick with a dangerous tension that made her skin crawl.

With a grunt, Lakhan lunged forward, his powerful arms wrapping around her waist. He lifted her off the ground as if she were a ragdoll, and before she could even attempt to fight back, he slammed her onto the bed with a force that knocked the wind out of her.

Dhristi's eyes went wide with horror as she stared up at Lakhan, his shadow looming over her. He was a man possessed, his eyes gleaming with a feral hunger that made her stomach churn. She felt the bed dip as he climbed over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his knees digging into her soft flesh.

The digital Lakhan's mouth found the tender flesh of her neck, his teeth scbanging against her skin as he kissed and bit down with a fierce passion that sent shivers of disgust down her spine. His hands held her wrists firmly above her head, pinning her in place with a strength that belied his age.

Dhristi's eyes searched the room desperately, her cries of fear swallowed by the deafening silence of the empty house. The isolation of our new home in Jaunpur had been a welcome respite from the chaos of Mumbai, but in this moment, it felt like a prison. Her shouts for help were muffled by the thick walls that surrounded them, echoing through the house like a sad, lonely wail that no one would ever hear.

Lakhan's mouth closed around one of her nipples, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he bit down gently. Dhristi's body arched in pain, her nails digging into the mattress as she tried to push him away. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps as she felt his other hand roaming down her stomach, his fingertips teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound.

The digital Lakhan's hand reached lower, slipping between her legs, and she felt the warmth of his fingers as they began to probe her folds. She was wet, but not from arousal—it was the dampness of her fear, a visceral reaction to the horror unfolding before my eyes.

Dhristi 's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated with panic. "No, Lakhan sahab," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. "Please, mein shadi shuda hun"

Lakhan's only response was a low chuckle that sent shivers down her spine. His fingers continued to explore, his thumb circling her clit with a cruel expertise that made her body betray her. Despite her protests, she felt the beginnings of arousal, the traitorous response to his touch that she had no control over.

As I watched the video, my anger and fear for Dhristi mixed with an unwelcome arousal. The sight of her writhing beneath Lakhan's hands, her moans growing louder, was like a siren's call, pulling me in deeper. Her legs began to part slightly, giving him better access to the warm, wet folds of her pussy.

I had always been respectful of Dhristi's modesty, never pushing her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with. Her purity was something I cherished, something that was sacred to me. But as I watched the digital Lakhan's fingers dance over her most intimate areas, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Jealousy, anger, and a perverse fascination warred within me as her moans grew louder, her body responding to his touch despite her initial protests.

On the screen, Lakhan's hand grew more insistent, his thumb rubbing her clit in firm, slow circles that had her hips bucking against him. Dhristi's eyes rolled back in her head, and she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her cries. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest heaved with every ragged breath.

I watched as Lakhan's fingers slipped inside her, her pussy tightening around him. She was so wet, so receptive to his touch, and the sight was maddening. I wanted to be the one making her feel that way, not this monster who had invaded our home.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she gasped as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her with increasing speed. Her hips began to move in sync with his hand, her body no longer fighting him but instead seeking out the release he offered.

It was as if she had been split into two: the Dhristi I knew, a shy and innocent girl from the village, and this woman before me, writhing and begging for more under the rough touch of a stranger. It was a side of her I had never seen, never even imagined, and it was both terrifying and intoxicating.

On the screen, Lakhan leaned down to kiss her again, his teeth grazing her neck. Her body trembled in response, and she bit back a moan, her eyes fluttering closed. He was in complete control, her body a plaything for his amusement, and the knowledge of it was a knife twisting in my gut.

Dhristi's hips began to buck wildly as Lakhan's probing grew more intense, his fingers curling inside her with a skill that spoke of years of experience. Her moans grew louder, and she writhed beneath him, her body betraying the fear that filled her mind.

Lakhan's teeth found purchase on one of her swollen nipples, tugging and nipping at the sensitive flesh as his thumb continued its relentless assault on her clit. Dhristi's nails dug into the bed, her body arching in a silent plea for relief as he brought her closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

The digital feed was a whirlwind of sensation, the camera capturing every intimate detail of Lakhan's violation. Dhristi's eyes, wide with shock and fear, stared into the unfeeling lens as if begging for rescue. Her breaths were shallow, her chest heaving as Lakhan's hand worked its dark magic on her body.

On the computer chair, I sat, paralyzed with a mix of rage and a perverse arousal that I despised. My own hand found its way to my erection, my body's traitorous response to the scene unfolding before me. I watched as Lakhan's fingers plunged into her, his other hand pinning her wrists to the bed, the sound of her muffled cries piercing the silence.

Dhristi's body was a battleground of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, and an undeniable response to the illicit pleasure he was forcing on her. Her legs had parted further, her hips rising to meet his invasive touch, and her eyes searched the room as if for an escape that was never coming.

Lakhan's eyes were hooded, his breaths heavy and ragged as he watched the display of passion before him. His hand never stopped moving, his fingers curling and stroking her inner walls with a precision that spoke of his many conquests. Dhristi's breaths grew shallower, her eyes glazed with a mix of horror and arousal as she felt herself climbing higher and higher.

Suddenly, she stiffened, her body arching off the bed in a silent scream. The digital Lakhan watched with a twisted smile as Dhristi's orgasm ripped through her, her muscles spasming around his fingers, her body shaking with the intensity of it.

It was the first time I had ever seen Dhristi experience such a powerful release. Her eyes flew open, locking onto the camera lens, and for a moment, it was as if she saw me there, watching. A look of absolute betrayal crossed her face, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

It was as though she was telling she got her first orgasm after 8 months of marriage. Dhristi had never been one to openly express her sexual desires, even with me, her devoted husband. In the eight months that we had shared a bed, we had made love with a gentle, almost sacred reverence. Her passion was usually a quiet whisper, a shy, sweet surrender to the act of love. But here, in this digital recording, she was a whirlwind of sensation—wild, unbridled, and utterly captivating.

Lakhan's smug smile grew wider as he watched her climax, his own desire burning brighter in his eyes. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue claiming her, tasting her fear and pleasure. His hand didn't stop, his fingers still working her, drawing out the last tremors of her orgasm.

Dhristi's body was limp, her breathing ragged as she lay beneath Lakhan's heavy weight. But the digital Lakhan wasn't done. His hand moved away, and she felt a moment of relief, thinking that perhaps he had gotten what he wanted and would leave her be. But his intentions were far from pure.

"Well Dhristi,looks like you had fun" he murmured, his voice low and menacing. " But I have just started."

As she kept breathing and her boobs were going up and down. The words sent a cold shiver down her spine as she realized that this was only the beginning of his sick game.

[tharkibudda]

wow lovely writing and erotic updates bro.. enjoyed it to the core....
as you had already mentioned it is a cuck story, we were expecting what will happen.

the way Lakhan had planned, was it by mistake? As i read through, I feel, our hero had missed the file and this had led Lakhaan to his house, else he could have come to his house any time

But dhrishti was at pity, fear, and feeling both together...

enjoying and the final word, I have just started, keep us waiting what is about to happen

Ir was completely random. Lakhan had no idea about his wife until now.. He also was more interested in the file which Manav missed even though he saw her in nighty with no inners..

But then fate or in this case wind interefered

[tharkibudda]

why many of good story turns into cuck plot ?

Sorry but I tried to write this but very few responses

https://xossipy.com/thread-59781.html

I can only provide what audience like

[tharkibudda]

but cuck plot doesn't go very long few story progress.
further what ?
1. wife will willing participate with her rapist, after that that sex would continue with their willful mutual understanding
2. Husband will shag his dick daily after home return with video cctv footage.
3. may be wife pregnant from boss.
4. story the end

one fact is true cuck plot carries very long pages for month only fill with cuck sex detail.

I agree with everything you just said and my story isn't an exception to this generic plot .

But as someone who isn't paid or compensated in any way . It's very disheartening when my other story which even though was started by another didn't receive any updates or encouragement by anyone except a couple of them. 

I stopped writing twice and then took it up again . But ultimately had to leave it because of lack of encouragement..

So as a writer , nothing motivates you like constant encouragement.. even if the plot line is generic, of readers like it , you will end up writing.

This story idea was given to me by an author named sweetdreamssss in literotica , initially she wrote stories in female pov which involved just a independent woman having sex without any blackmail etc .

But she too started writing these cheating wives story later .

[tharkibudda]

Lets accept the fact adultery, cuck are the most preferred story by readers across all languages. This story is really going good. It has emense potential.. considering what will happen when wife returns back?
Will the affair continue?
Any other developments that will happen?
Most importantly wife is out to her parents house and so is Lakhan. I feel something fishy here.

Honestly my idea is for Husband to just watch everything that happens where he could only see but cannot stop or change any of the past...lets see if it fits, i can write a post session of what happens after he watches all the remaining footage

[tharkibudda]

There were times when husband was sent out of town frequently for work, so there is bound to be lots of masala in the tapes, but after that what ... that is the question.

Well as ProjectMP pointed out, she's gone to her parents and Lakhan Chand is out of town. Moreover, she has forbidden him from calling her so he has no contact with her. This can set up the stage for what happens once the tapes are exhausted ... if the author is interested.

It would become boring if the story goes on and on about the same thing and the husband just sits and watches ... without prejudice and seeking indulgence, here are some of the paths the story could take ...
a. the husband gather's his shattered ego and love and packs up and leaves his job and wife ... The end.
b. the husband changes jobs and brings an end to the dalliance and they both try to reconstruct their marriage ... the end.
c. he continues watching and sees an expansion in the number of her lovers - like the landlord saw his wife with multiple low class men ... but this would be the least desirable path as it would not fit Drishti's character as has been built up till now and cheapen the story. I thinks she should not go beyond becoming Lakhan Chand's mistress.
d. what he sees on the tapes arouses him and he gets hooked to seeing his wife with Lakhan ... he somehow learns that after staying at her parents house, she and Lakhan have gone somewhere together(the inlaws know nothing about Lakhan); he tracks them and manages to get access to another CCTV network. What he sees and hears there(Drishti's total and eager submission to Lakhan Chand's manhood) seals his fate. He returns to a promotion and before leaving for his next official tour switched the home CCTV system on again. The end.
e. to deepen the cuckold humiliation, toss in her pregnancy and his acceptance in d above.
f. he takes path b, but after a few years yearns for what he saw on the tapes(maybe he kept copies) and sets her up again with his new boss, but after installing a CCTV system of his own in his house.

The title does not suggest that she ever finds out that her husband is watching her extra-marital dalliances.

As I said, the above is without prejudice and with a lot of presumption. Will require continued motivation on the author's part. Given that posting updates even now seem a daunting task, is it even fair to ask the author this. So for now let me just enjoy the tapes unroll(as and when they do) and see how the story gets stitched up in the end.

Thanks Khemucha, you did a better analysis than me...

First of all, this wasnt my story but suggested by a Literoritca author. She initially suggested this as phase 2 of the famous "Who watches the watchman" but the author never replied to her and when he gave a weak ending to that story few years ago, she pivoted into a standalone story and asked if i can write it.

I said i saw a similar story where the husband puts a cameras as he suspect his servant masturbates to his wife's inner garments but ends up watching his servant forcing on his wife ....

Then I saw another story which was abandoned by another author who didn't answer my correspondence even

https://xossipy.com/thread-59781.html

But despite several attempts, due to lack of any support, I stopped writing as noone except a couple of them liked it.

So I dont want to put too much emphasis on this story and then if it fizzles out to the audience then I might stop as my other story.

I've left several open ends like "If he could recover the footage of previous owner"., " Why both left home at same time and she is not reachable", etc

For now, he is not a cuck because he is just watching past footage where things happened without his knowledge.

What he does later can be used to complete the story

[tharkibudda]

Tried my hand in AI

Moments before disaster

[tharkibudda]

Bro this story has potential to be a masterpiece

Thanks but this story is a bit too common and not sure if it will not falter in the later episodes.

BY the way, I have calls with clients until 11 to even midnight almost everyday. I can only write on weekends where I get atleast 2 hrs of alone time to focus on these.

So expect my updates every weekend or in many cases I might miss i had to go out for family obligations.

Just setting the expectations for others that this will be a slow update and you might need to be patient

[tharkibudda]

tharkibudda sir - how are you generating these Ai pics ? We can also try and post them intermittently in the comments. It will be fun to see different pics.

I tried so many places and finally found this

Perchance leonardo

You can give ur prompt like this from @tweeny_fory

"35 year old beautiful indian woman with transparent cotton blue saree and sleeveless cotton blouse sleeping on the bed, navel visible,mangalsutra on neck,"

also it has options to toggle. 

The problem is that this AI is racist. The moment you give Indian, it only gives dark skinned kaamwaali women.  To get beautiful north indian you would have to give Pakistani as prompt.

Since Nalini is south indian, it generated well.

[tharkibudda]

What caused Dhristi to be shocked like that?

[tharkibudda]

Stay Tuned for the Grand Opening