[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]

can we drop the "digital" repetitions ... digital this ... digital that ... we know he's watching a digital recording ... hate to find fault but its jarring ...

hope the action soon turns to reluctance and consensual soon ... don't enjoy assault ... that was the problem with your other story too ... at least this story setup and character building is so much better and believable here ... will wait for the next session to see if their dynamics start changing to decide whether I continue to follow this thread or not ... no pressure to change what you intend to do in this story ... carry on by all means ... and you write well so not fining fault on this matter ... just a prisoner to my preferences ...

nice work with the ai pics ... but please give priority to the story over the pics ...

Thank I will try to drop the Digital from now...

 Dhristi is going through 5 stages of grief - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Right now, he is in denial mode so her body tries to fight back... Soon she will start the accepting that she cant do much and slowly it would change to apathy.

Lot of stories move from "he forced me" to "i will fuck him behind my husband's back" pretty soon . I think a woman wont get magically seduced by big cock into giving up her marital vows that easily. So it will go through stages but next time she wotn fight back..

nice work with the ai pics ... but please give priority to the story over the pics ...

Generating pics is easy, except you just need to keep pressing it until u get the pic u wish for. And for the story, I need to tell, it will go a bit downhill because the main conquest is done and after that, its just story going through her into the descent of being his slut...

[tharkibudda]

Glad to know your thoughts and acceptance for a minor criticism. Really excited for future updates. The narration is amazing.

I've no issues in constructive criticism and in fact welcome them. It shows that the reader actually read the story and liked it and wanted it to be better...
Its even better than receiving 100 upvotes.

[tharkibudda]

Looks like you have an epic planned out ... from your earlier statements I got the impression that you were in a hurry to finish, but I guess I was wrong. Great for me. This will be some journey.

But you have me confused. The last phrases of the first and third paragraphs seem inherently contradictory - "slowly it would change to apathy" and "the descent of being his slut". Can a slut be apathetic towards her illicit lover? Or is the apathy directed at the husband?

There is a limitation inherent in the mode of discovery - watching recorded videos. They only show what happened on the outside. What's happening on the inside can not be uncovered. But the real churn is in the inside. Sad. Maybe he will start remembering some subtle changes of behavior; something here something there. But that will only testify to the existence of the churn, but will uncover no details; a sneak peak at best. There are two cliched ways of uncovering the internal churn. Lets see if you adopt either of them, or skip it altogether or come up with your own creative way of sliding off the covers. Good work mate.

By the way, are you the same as the Tharkibudda lurking around on Literotica?

Thank you...

As I said, I want to show her descent where she initially tries to fight him off, then beg with him, then just slowly acceptance and then develops stockholm syndrome.

I did try to give hints on how she slapped her husband when she tries to ride but she cums out early and her wild mood swings at times. As u said,its all recorded so even then, the husband can only look back at her behavior and how it corresponded to her behavior in CCTV. 

Maybe I can write a sequel where he shows different videos to his wife and ask for her inputs why she behaved like that. There is this short story in literotica where a goon forces a wife in a bus and then the husband and wife talk about it blaming each other and then decide to get divorce... Maybe i can use that for the previous owners because I tried to imply that her wife was a bit modern who ended up cheating with low class men..

Thanks for ur inputs because I now have a whole new perspective to think about and a story which can either be developed by me or someone else like a spinoff...

and yes, I go by that name in literotica and pliagarized few stories here and there and a few original ones. I met with an author named sweetdreamssss whom i initially approached for editing my story. We had a conversation through mail and she gave this idea although her idea was very small and it was more like the different version of "Who watches the watchmen" and not about village girl going through emotions of getting assulted. She had written few other stories mostly as female POV which i liked because they had a new theme, a modern girl from IT having flings without any force or the low class fetish but then she too started writing the same "cheating wife" stories which was a waste of her talents.

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 14 - April 14th, the Aftermath

As the feed of the living room turned black due to lack of activity, my attention was drawn back to the bedroom feed where the representation of Dhristi lay in a crumpled heap on the bed. The stark contrast between the two scenes was almost unbearable. The silence was broken only by the quiet patter of Lakhan's semen as it slid down her inner thighs, a grim reminder of the violation that had just occurred. The sight of her naked, vulnerable form, marred by his brutal use, filled me with a rage so potent it could have fueled the fires of hell itself.


My fists clenched, my teeth ground together, and my heart thudded in my chest like a war drum. I had just witnessed the violation of my wife for the second consecutive day, and the realization that I was powerless to do anything was like a dagger in my soul.

As Dhristi lay there on the bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of Lakhan's brutal assault, something changed in the scene before me. Her eyes, which had been vacant and haunted, suddenly filled with a terror so profound that it seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the digital world. Her chest heaved with ragged sobs that grew louder and louder until they were no longer sobs at all. They had morphed into screams—soul-wrenching, blood-curdling screams that seemed to echo in the very air around me.

I watched in horror as the representation of my wife curled into a fetal position, her knees drawn up to her chest as if she could somehow shield herself from the pain that had been inflicted upon her. Her cries grew more desperate, more anguished, until it was all I could do to keep watching. But I had to. I had to bear witness to her suffering, to understand the depths of the hell she had been plunged into.

The Dhristi's sobs grew in intensity, her body shaking with the force of her grief. Her tears fell like rain onto the bed, soaking the sheets in a salty embrace that mirrored the reality of the situation. It was as if she had finally broken through the dam of denial and was now allowing the full weight of Lakhan's depravity to wash over her.

I watched, my heart torn to shreds by the feed of my wife's pain, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to reach out, to hold her and whisper words of comfort into her ear. But I was trapped in this cold, unfeeling digital prison, unable to offer anything but silent support.

And yet, as her screams grew more desperate, something strange occurred to me. Despite the horror of what I had just witnessed, a tiny spark of hope kindled in my heart. Was it possible that her sudden outpouring of grief was a sign that she was beginning to heal? That she had finally found the strength to face the monstrous reality of what Lakhan had done to her?

For the next half an hour, the digital feed showed Dhristi lying on the bed, her body wracked with sobs that seemed to shake the very walls of the room. Each convulsion was a testament to the pain that she carried within her, a pain that I could never fully understand, no matter how much I wished to share her burden.

And then, as if summoned by some unseen force, she slowly began to stir. Her movements were sluggish at first, as if she were waking from a nightmare she hadn't wanted to end. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her face a mask of despair and anger. For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with the force of her ragged breaths.

With a sudden jolt of determination, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, her body wobbling with the aftermath of the assault. The feed followed her unsteady progress across the room, capturing the way her bare feet stepped carefully over the shreds of her blouse and petticoat, leaving them behind like discarded pieces of a life that no longer fit her.

Her movements were almost mechanical as she made her way to the bathroom, her eyes devoid of any spark of life. It was as if she were a marionette, controlled by invisible strings of pain and despair. She stepped into the shower and closed the door.

The digital feed flickered, and suddenly, the bathroom door was open again, revealing Dhristi standing before the mirror. She reached up tentatively, her fingers tracing the bruises that marred her neck like the marks of a vicious predator. Her eyes searched her reflection, looking for some semblance of the woman she had once been.

With a trembling hand, she picked up the shredded remnants of her blouse and petticoat, the fabric clinging to her like the tattered remains of her dignity.

Dhristi's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but they gleamed with a newfound resolve as she slipped into a fresh set of clothes—a simple cotton salwar kameez .

The fabric whispered softly against her bruised skin, a gentle caress that seemed to offer a small measure of comfort. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly, as if she were trying to expel the very essence of Lakhan from her lungs.

And then, with a suddenness that took my breath away, she collapsed onto the bed. Her sobs were like a dam breaking, a torrent of pain and anger that seemed to fill the very room.
Her cries grew louder, more desperate, as if she were trying to purge every last drop of Lakhan's poison from her soul. Her slender body heaved with the force of her sobs, the soft curves of her breasts rising and falling with every ragged breath. Her hands clutched at the bed sheets, the fabric twisting in her grasp as if she were trying to hold onto something—anything—that could anchor her in reality.

I felt a strange, twisted sense of relief. Better she cried, I thought, better she let it all out than to keep it bottled up inside.

But as the evening approached, I knew I had to confront the reality of what I had seen. Dhristi had gone through the motions of the day as if nothing had happened—cooking dinner, cleaning the house, her movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. I arrived home at 8 PM, tired from work and oblivious to the storm raging within her. She served me dinner with a forced smile, her eyes avoiding mine.

I talked about the audit files, oblivious to the silent screams echoing in hers. She nodded along, her voice a hollow imitation of her usual cheerfulness. My mind was consumed by the mundane, the trivial, while she was fighting a battle that I had only just begun to comprehend.

And so, I went off to sleep, my body heavy with exhaustion, while she remained wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The images of her trauma played on repeat in the back of her mind, a never-ending horror show that she couldn't escape.

[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 15 - April 14th, the footnote

I was now really angry with Lakhan for defiling my wife again, the rage burning in my chest like an unquenchable fire. I had to find a way to stop him, to make him pay for what he had done. The thought of him getting away with this, of him continuing to torment Dhristi, was more than I could bear.


As the clock chimed 10:45 PM, the fury inside me reached a boiling point. I shot out of the chair like a coiled spring, the veins in my neck and forehead pulsing with the beat of my heart. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind.

I stormed out of the house, the echo of Dhristi's moans still haunting me. The cold, gleaming metal of the scooter keys in my hand felt like a lifeline. My hand trembled with a mix of rage and determination as I shoved them into the ignition of our old scooter, the engine sputtering to life beneath the weight of my anger.The ride to Lakhan's house was a blur of fury, the wind in my hair doing little to cool the burning rage that consumed me.

The rich part of town was a stark contrast to our hell, the palatial homes glinting with the soft glow of warm lights and the distant sound of laughter. In just 10 minutes, I pulled up in front of Lakhan's monstrous abode, the biggest in the small town, a grotesque symbol of his wealth and power.

The gate was a towering behemoth of wrought iron, the bars curling and twisting into obscene shapes that seemed to mock the very concept of protection. A burly security guard, his eyes half-lidded with boredom, lounged in a small booth next to a rottweiler that eyed me with suspicion. The animal's hackles rose, its teeth bared in a silent snarl as the vibrations of my scooter's engine reached its keen ears.

I slammed my fist against the gate's cold, unforgiving surface, the sound echoing through the night like a declaration of war. The slit where the guard's face should have been opened with a metallic groan, revealing a sliver of shadowy space.

"Kaun ho ap?" he barked in a gruff, menacing tone.

"I'm Manav, his employee," I replied, my voice steady despite the rage coursing through me. "I need to meet with Lakhan sahib."

The guard's expression remained unchanged, his eyes flicking over me with the same bored disinterest as before. "Lakhan sahib has gone for a business trip. He might not return soon. You can check with Javed saab for any official matter."

But I couldn't leave, not without doing something to avenge Dhristi. "What about his wife?" I demanded, desperation creeping into my voice. "Can I speak to her?"

The guard's expression grew wary,  "Madam is not here either," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "She has gone to her parents' ancestral home with  kids for the vacation. Why do you need to talk to her?"

My heart sank. . "It's urgent," I insisted, my voice strained with desperation. "Is there anyone in the house I can speak to?"

. "Only Lakhan ji's father, Nemi Chand ji, is at home," he said finally, his eyes flicking over me with a newfound curiosity. "But he doesn't take kindly to unexpected visitors."

The mention of Lakhan's father brought a flicker of something to the surface of my mind—a memory of the man whose face had stared back at me from the photograph every day as I entered the office. Nemi Chand had built the company from the ground up with his relentless determination that had turned him from a penniless villager to a titan of industry. His rags-to-riches story was legendary, a tale that had inspired and intimidated in equal measure.

But I didn't want to meet him. Not like this. Not with the smell of rage on my breath and the taste of betrayal on my tongue. Instead, I turned my scooter around and sped away from the gate. It was almost 11 PM when the realization hit me—I hadn't had dinner yet.

Since all restaurants would be closed, I went to the National Highway to a dhaba that was a frequent haunt of truckers and travelers.  But as I dismounted my scooter, the aromas of sizzling tandoori chicken and adrak chai did little to stir my appetite. I was ravenous, but not for food.

I sat down at a table, my mind racing. Why was Lakhan absent at the same time as Dhristi? The question gnawed at me like a ravenous beast, refusing to be ignored. Was it a mere coincidence? Or was there something more sinister at play?

I took out my phone and dialed Dhristi's number, the digits feeling like a lifeline to the woman I had promised to protect. The phone rang once, twice, three times with no answer,. It was almost midnight, and she was always a heavy sleeper, but something felt... off.

[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]

I posted two updates this week.Not sure if i can do it next week. Hopefully i can but dont rely on  me

[tharkibudda]

Was the terror in her eyes a result of recalling the pleasure she felt ... and that why she started wailing and screaming?

I hope Dhristi pics up the phone and Manav hears Lakhans's voice in the background, telling her to get off the phone and coming back to him. That will light a fire under Manav ...

The first time she was totally shocked and her mind went blank. She just lay on the bed hoping it was all a bad dream and she would just wake up from that.

But the second time,she realised it had happened and she had no way to stop it. So all the denial in  her mind that it didnt happen broke and now it has accepted that and therefore she cried ..

[tharkibudda]

Both are not in town at same time. Telling manav that she is going to her mother she must have gone an honeymoon trip with his boss. Excellent going.

It will take time for him to know what happened and where they are...Currently both Manav and readers will be in confusion

[tharkibudda]

It's requested to you , please give the long update where we can understand that on this update we got some hot and little clue and got surprised

I'm sorry but I can neither give long or frequent updates. Also I cannot guarantee, there will be an update every weekend because i might have to travel at times.

I'm having a job where i attend calls until midnight and i also have a family who won't be happy to hear her husband is writing erotica .

I'm writing only for my fun and in case it becomes another chore with deadline, I might lose my interest.i cannot stop working because i need the salary.

I'm sorry to be blunt but I'm just explaining my ground situation

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 16 - April 15,16,17

I came home after the dinner that felt more like a punishment than sustenance. The house was shrouded in a heavy silence that seemed to press down on me, suffocating any thoughts of comfort or rest.


It was almost midnight, and the desktop beckoned from the corner of my eye, whispering of the horrors that might be unfolding even as I sat there, paralyzed by doubt and fear. I knew I should check for any new videos, but the thought of seeing Dhristi in that state of violation again was more than I could bear.

"Let me get some sleep," I murmured to myself, rubbing my eyes, "and check tomorrow."

But sleep was a fickle creature, eluding me as I lay there, my mind racing with images of Lakhan's debauchery. I tossed and turned, the specter of Dhristi's pain haunting every shadow of the room. The bed felt too warm, too suffocating, as if it were trying to swallow me whole.

At 5 AM, the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a pallid glow over the room. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the computer, my body aching with exhaustion and anger.

The moment the screen flickered to life, the videos  of Lakhan's depravity stared back at me, a silent reminder of the horrors that had unfolded in our marriage bed. I steeled myself and began scrolling through the files, my heart racing with a mix of dread and hope that today would be different.

April 16th, a Saturday, and I must be at home. The file I had chosen was smaller than the others, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hold the same vile content.

The digital feed flickered to life, and there she was—my Dhristi, my love, lying in our marital bed, her eyes fluttering open. Her movements were sluggish, as if the weight of the world had settled upon her slender shoulders. She stretched, her arms reaching up to the heavens in a silent plea for relief.

How clueless had I been? I had watched her, night after night, going through the motions of living—cooking, cleaning, smiling—while she was dying on the inside. I had held her in my arms, and made love to her, all the while oblivious to the storm of pain and anger that raged within her soul.

As the feed played out before me, showing the mundane activities of a lazy weekend, my heart grew heavier with every passing minute. The stark contrast between the hell she had suffered and the serene façade she presented to the world was almost too much to bear.

On April 17th, the digital feed showed Dhristi waking up at 5:30 AM as usual.she went about her morning routine. The sight of her in the kitchen, her movements precise and efficient as she chopped vegetables for breakfast, was almost too much to bear.
. Her eyes were vacant, her smile forced, as she served me the food she had prepared. We ate in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unshed tears.

I left for the office feeling like a coward without knowing what she was going through.

As every other day, Dhristi completed all her morning tasks with a stoicism that belied the tumultuous emotions roiling within her.She sank into the bed, her body weary from the period  and the emotional turmoil of the past days.

When she woke up around 1 pm, there was a palpable tension in the air that seemed to thicken around her. She dragged herself to the couch, her eyes glued to the clock on the wall, ticking away the moments with a cruel indifference to her fear.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds with a mocking regularity, each one a tiny dagger sinking deeper into her soul. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, watching the feed as if it were a live feed from a horror show, one she couldn't tear herself away from.

Dhristi's eyes darted to the clock again, and she felt the first stirrings of panic. Lakhan was never late, and she knew that his digital visits were as punctual as a metronome. Her heart began to race, the beat echoing in her ears like a war drum signaling the impending doom. She clenched her fists, the nails biting into the tender flesh of her palms.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, she found herself torn between hope and dread. Would he come today? Would she have to endure another round of his violation? The anticipation was a knot in her stomach, twisting and tightening with every tick of the clock.

The clock finally  2 PM came and went without any sign of Lakhan's figure materializing in the room. Dhristi's shoulders sagged with relief, but there was a sadness in the way her eyes searched the space where he had so often loomed over her. Was she disappointed? Was she hoping for another confrontation to somehow prove something to herself or to him?

I fast-forwarded through the feed, watching the hours of our lives tick by in a blur. Her movements were jerky, mechanical as she went through the motions of the day—cooking, cleaning, and tending to the house. It was a dance of despair, each step a silent cry for help that no one could hear.

As it was 10 pm,Dhristi finally made her way to bed. She lay down, her eyes searching the darkness above her, the digital feed capturing the anguish etched into every line of her face.

I watched her, my heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken pain. Was she relieved that Lakhan hadn't come today? Or was she plagued by the emptiness his absence had left behind? Dhristi lay on her side, one hand curled into a fist under her pillow, the other resting limp on the bed. Her breathing was even, but the tension in her body told a different story.

[tharkibudda]

Author's Note - Sorry for short updates. But I want my chapters to follow a logic sequence unless they are big ones which will be cut into several parts. In this case, I want to run through the next 3 days of what happened after the 2 explosive bangs she had

[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 17 - April 18

On Tuesday, April 18h, the digital feed began almost identically to the previous day.


Dhristi woke early, her eyes swollen and red from a restless night's sleep. She moved through the house with a listless gait, completing the same chores she had done countless times before.

Her thoughts were scattered like leaves in a storm, torn between the fear of Lakhan's touch and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would not come today. The clock on the wall chimed 1 PM, the time of his usual visitation. She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart racing like a caged animal. The room was suffused with a tense silence that seemed to pulse with anticipation.

The digital feed remained eerily still, no sign of the monster that had invaded their lives. Her eyes flicked to the screen every few moments, her breath catching in her throat with every movement.

As the minutes ticked by, a strange sense of relief began to unfurl within Dhristi. Perhaps today would be different. Perhaps Lakhan would no longer visit her and she could finally begin to heal. The hope was fragile, a delicate butterfly wings fluttering in the cage of her chest, but it was there, nonetheless.

The rest of the day went mundane. She moved through the house.She washed the dishes and scrubbed at the kitchen counters .

Her thoughts were scattered, a tornado of fear and hope, each one vying for dominance. Was it possible that Lakhan had had his fill and would leave us in peace? The idea was ludicrous, a desperate clinging to a thread of hope that had been frayed almost to the point of breaking.

But as I stared at the file for April 19th, something within me shifted. It was larger than the ones from the previous days, the weight of it seeming to pull at me with a sinister gravity. With trembling hands, I double-clicked, the computer springing to life with a whir that seemed almost eager.

The screen flickered, and there she was again, my Dhristi, dressed in a simple salwar kameez,  I moved the cursor until the time in the CCTV feed read 1 PM, and my heart skipped a beat. It was the time Lakhan used to leave for lunch, the same time he had visited Dhristi all these months.

Dhristi sat on the couch, her legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. She was a picture of vulnerability, her eyes wide and haunted, reflecting the fear that had become a constant companion.

The digital feed showed her waiting, tension coiled like a serpent in her belly. It was 1:15 PM, the time that had been etched into her soul as the start of her personal hell. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, as if it too held its breath in anticipation of the horror that was to come.

Suddenly, the calling bell pierced the silence, its shrill cry echoing through the deserted corridors of the mansion. Dhristi's heart leapt into her throat, the sound a harbinger of the monster that was about to invade her sanctuary.



Her legs felt like lead as she forced herself to move, every step a battle against the fear that clutched at her heart. She reached the door, her hand shaking as she grasped the cold, unforgiving metal of the knob.

Suddenly, Dhristi's grip tightened, her resolve steeling. She would not cower before this monster. She would face him with the same strength she had shown the night before. With a deep breath, she swung the door open, the hinges protesting with a low creak.

And there he was—Lakhan, his smug smile plastered across his face like a grotesque mask. The sight of him made my blood boil, his very presence a declaration of his dominance and control.

Dhristi's eyes widened with horror as she took in Lakhan her breath hitching in her throat. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick, hairy forearms. His eyes raked over her, a predator assessing his prey.

While she stood there, frozen in shock, he casually strolled into the living room and plopped down on the sofa, as if he owned the place. His smug confidence filled the room, a noxious fume that made it hard for Dhristi to breathe.

But unlike the previous times, something had changed within her. The feed caught the glint of defiance in her tear-filled eyes, a spark that had been buried deep within the ash of her soul. She knew she couldn't change the past, but she could control the present and fight for their future.

Her words were a plea, but not one of submission. "Please," she whispered, her voice shaking, "mujhe chod dijiye." But this time, she didn't collapse on the floor. Instead, she fell to her knees, her hands clutching Lakhan's ankles, not in a show of weakness, but in a desperate attempt to hold onto the last shreds of her dignity.


Lakhan's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight as he reached down to stroke her hair. "You're so sweet when you beg," he murmured, his voice a vile caress.

Dhristi's stomach churned with revulsion, but she forced herself to remain still, her eyes pleading. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I'm just a simple village girl. I've never known anything but love and honesty. I can't betray Manav like this."

Lakhan's laughter was a cruel slap in the face, echoing through the room and mocking her very soul. "Betray?" he said, his tone mocking. "You think you have a choice?."

Dhristi's eyes filled with a desperate hope as she searched his cold gaze. "I promise," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I won't tell anyone. I'll do whatever you want, just please, stop this."

Lakhan's chuckle was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and hollow. "Oh, but what fun would that be?" he mused, his hand trailing up her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. "But let me lay it out for you. There are only two ways this can end. You tell your husband and others about it or I get bored of you"

Dhristi's eyes snapped up to meet his, her heart hammering in her chest like a caged bird desperate to escape. The words hung in the air between them, a noose tightening with every silent beat. She knew the implications of both options—exposure meant shattering the illusion of their perfect life, while his boredom could mean unspeakable horrors.

Lakhan's smile grew, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette. "You see," he said, his voice a purr, "you're not the one in control here. You never were." He leaned in, his hot breath fanning across her face. "But you can make it interesting for me."

The words hung in the air, thick with the stench of his lust and power. "I don't have much time today," he announced, his eyes glinting with anticipation, "Let's have a quickie."

Dhristi felt her stomach turn, the bile rising in her throat. "Please," she begged again, her voice barely a whisper, ."

But Lakhan was not to be swayed by her pleas. He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he took in her trembling form. "Ah," he said, his smile turning predatory, "the sweetness of innocence." He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "But tell me, Dhristi, are you educated?"

Dhristi was taken aback with that question and she slowly answered, "Ji, I did till 12th standard." Her voice was a thread of sound, almost lost in the suffocating silence of the room.

Lakhan's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam, . "Ah, a 'padhi likhi' village girl," he sneered, the words dripping with contempt. "Then surely you understand that arguing with me like an unpad gawar." His hand tightened on her arm, his grip painfully tight. "Now, let's not waste any more time, shall we?"

Dhristi's eyes widened with a mix of fear and anger. With a surge of adrenaline, she tried to wreste her hands out of his vice grip, her nails digging into his flesh. His smug expression faltered for a moment, the shock of her resistance clear in his eyes.

"You think you can fight me?" Lakhan sneered, his grip tightening even more. "I'd be happy to give you what you want. In fact, I enjoy the struggle. It makes it all the sweeter when you finally submit." His eyes gleamed with excitement at the thought, and he leaned in closer to her, his breath hot against her ear. "But do you want me to tear off your clothes like last time?"

Dhristi's eyes grew wide with horror at the memory of her blouse being shredded by Lakhan's cruel hands. Her arms felt like lead, the fight draining out of her as the weight of his question settled on her like a heavy shroud. She couldn't bear the thought of that degradation again, the feeling of his hands on her bare skin, the sound of fabric ripping as he claimed her against her will.

"What did you tell your husband about the torn blouse?" Lakhan's voice was a sneer, a twisted mockery of a man who thought he had won.  His fingers trailed along the neckline of her salwar kameez, his eyes never leaving hers, watching the fear and disgust flicker like candle flames in the depths of her soul.

Dhristi felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, her cheeks flaming red. "I—I said nothing," she stuttered, her voice barely audible. "I—I didn't want him to know."


Lakhan's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He knew the power his words held over her, and he reveled in her humiliation. "Ah, the sweet lies of a faithful wife," he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But we both know that won't last forever."

With a sudden, vicious yank, he pulled her closer, his hand wrapping around her throat. "So unless you want all your clothes torn every time I come here," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "it's better you stop fighting."

Dhristi's eyes bulged, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe. She nodded frantically, her fear a living entity within her. Lakhan's grip loosened slightly, his smile widening. "Good girl," he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He stood up, towering over her, and gestured towards the bedroom. His eyes never left hers, holding her captive in their cruel embrace. With trembling legs, she rose to her feet, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She took one shaky step forward, and then another, her bare feet whispering against the cold marble floor.

The bedroom loomed before her, a chamber of torment and despair. She could feel the weight of Lakhan's gaze on her back, urging her on with every step. Her heart was racing, her mind screaming for escape, but her body moved of its own accord, as if it were a puppet dancing to his tune.

As she reached the threshold, Lakhan's voice, thick with lust, echoed through the room. "Now remove your salwar and panty," he said, his eyes glittering with anticipation. "I only have time for a quickie."

Dhristi's legs felt like jelly, her hands trembling as she reached for the waistband of her salwar. Her eyes searched the room, desperately seeking a way out, but she knew there was none. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracking, "don't make me do that."

But Lakhan was unmoved by her pleas, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I'm giving you a choice, Dhristi," he taunted, his voice low and menacing. "You can either do it willingly or I can tear it off you like before." His fingers twitched at his side, eager to demonstrate his willingness to take the decision out of her hands.

Dhristi's chest tightened with a sob,.She knew that if she didn't comply, Lakhan would not only force her.. With trembling hands, she began to untie her salwar, her fingers fumbling with the knot. The fabric whispered against her skin as it slipped down her legs, pooling around her ankles. She stepped out of it, her heart hammering in her chest like a caged bird desperate for freedom.





"Good," Lakhan murmured, his eyes devouring her exposed legs, his hunger palpable. "Now the panty."

Dhristi's cheeks burned with a blend of humiliation and anger. She felt the fabric of her panties sticking to her wetness, the betrayal of her own body a slap in the face. She had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Lakhan wouldn't notice, wouldn't push her to that final edge of degradation today. But as she met his gaze, she knew he had seen it all, had felt it all, and was eager for more.

"Why so shy, Dhristi?" Lakhan's voice was a taunt, a sneer that sliced through the taut silence of the room. "Didn't I see you naked before?"

Dhristi's eyes flashed with anger, the humiliation of his words a lash across her soul. She knew she had to maintain some semblance of control, had to keep the shreds of her dignity intact. With a trembling hand, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, her cheeks flaming with a mix of embarrassment and fury.


Lakhan's eyes never left her, his gaze hungry as a predator eyeing its prey. He licked his lips, his tongue a serpent's flicker of anticipation. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice a caress that made Dhristi's skin crawl.

With a gentle yet firm hand, Lakhan guided her to the bed, his touch a stark contrast to the violent storm of emotions raging within her. Her legs trembled as she lay down, the coldness of the silk sheets a stark reminder of the horrors that had been perpetrated upon them.

He positioned her just so, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, the soft fabric of the kameez whispering against her thighs as he pushed it upwards. His movements were deliberate, a slow dance of control that left Dhristi feeling exposed and vulnerable, a mere plaything in his sadistic game.

Lakhan's eyes widened with greed as he took in the sight of her naked pussy, his breath coming in harsh pants like an animal that had caught the scent of its prey. Dhristi's body tensed, every muscle tightening with the anticipation of his touch, her eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to block out the reality of what was happening.




With a quick motion, Lakhan pulled down his pants and briefs, revealing his erect penis. It stood proudly before her, a testament to his depraved desires. He stepped closer, his body heat suffocating, the scent of his lust thick in the air.

Dhristi's eyes were squeezed shut, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She could feel his presence, the heavy weight of his gaze upon her. Her thighs trembled, her legs instinctively trying to close, but Lakhan's firm hands kept them apart.

And then it was there, the thick, blunt head of his cock pressing against the soft, delicate folds of her pussy. Despite her mind's desperate screams of protest, her body betrayed her, a soft, unwanted moan escaping her lips as the tip of his shaft grazed her clit. It was a spark that ignited a fire within her, a fire that she had thought long extinguished by the horrors she had endured.

Lakhan chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that resonated through the room, the vibrations traveling through her body like a dark symphony of lust. "Look at you," he taunted, his voice thick with amusement, "all that drama of being a sanskari wife, and you're already wet down here."

Dhristi's eyes flew open, meeting Lakhan's cold, triumphant gaze. Anger surged through her veins, a fiery rebellion against her traitorous flesh. She hated her body for responding to him, for the treacherous little sparks of pleasure that danced across her skin like betraying fireflies in the night.

Lakhan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he noticed her reaction, his hand never stilling its taunting dance along her labia. His cock, thick and unyielding, traced a path of fire along her slit, teasing her swollen clit with every pass. He chuckled darkly, enjoying the way she squirmed under his touch, the way she tried to fight the pleasure that she knew would come.

"You're so wet," Lakhan murmured, his voice a sinister whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "It's like your body knows what's good for it." He pushed the head of his cock against her entrance, the blunt pressure making her whimper.

Dhristi's eyes widened with a mix of dread and unwanted arousal. Her pussy clenched around the tip, the pain of his entry a stark reminder of the monstrous power he wielded over her. With a brutal shove, Lakhan claimed her, his cock plunging deep within her, the intrusion a violent assault on her soul. Her scream filled the room, a primal sound that echoed through the void and into the heart of my being.

"Bitch," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of lust and malice, "you still haven't gotten used to my cock." His words were a slap across the face, a reminder of the stark contrast between the gentle, loving embrace of me and the violent, degrading claim Lakhan staked upon her body.

Her eyes snapped to his, a tempest of emotions swirling within the dark pools of fear and anger. "Looks like your husband has a tiny pecker," Lakhan said, his tone mocking as his thick cock filled her to the brim, "which doesn't stretch you at all."





The words hit me like a sledgehammer, my own arousal a traitorous betrayal as I watched the screen. The stark reality of Lakhan's claim was undeniable. The sight of his large member invading Dhristi's delicate flesh, the way she was stretched around him, was a stark contrast to our gentle, loving intimacy. My hand hovered over my own erection, the heat of anger and jealousy mixing with the unwanted arousal that had blossomed from the twisted power dynamics playing out before me.

I didn't know what to make of the fact that I was hard, watching the man I despised more than anything in this world fuck my wife. It was a dark, twisted knot of emotions, a cocktail of lust and rage that made me feel both monstrous and utterly powerless. It was as if my body had turned against me, betraying the love and respect I had for Dhristi by responding to the very act that was tearing her apart.

On the bed, Dhristi's eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched as Lakhan pounded into her, his hips a blur of motion. Her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, her nipples tight and hard with arousal despite the horror of the situation. Her body was a battleground, a canvas for Lakhan's twisted desires, and the sight of it made me feel sick and aroused all at once.

His cock was a piston, a merciless invader that claimed her with each relentless stroke. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a symphony of flesh that seemed to resonate with the very air itself. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and I found myself torn between the urge to cover my ears and the need to listen, to understand the depth of her suffering.

And then, with a sudden, jolting motion, Lakhan pulled Dhristi's kameez up, revealing her simple white bra.  His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them roughly, kneading them like a baker with a mound of dough. The sight of his calloused fingers against the delicate lace sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

Dhristi's eyes shot open, her face a mask of pain and humiliation as Lakhan's fingers found her sensitive peaks, pinching and twisting them without mercy. Her body arched off the bed, the sound of fabric straining against her skin echoing through the room. "No!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and broken, but he ignored her pleas, lost in his own twisted symphony of pleasure.

On the bed, Lakhan's hips bucked wildly, his cock a weapon that invaded Dhristi's body with brutal efficiency. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted with lust as he took her with a ferocity that was almost primal. The room was a cacophony of grunts and moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh a stark reminder of the depravity of his actions.

I watched from the feed, my heart pounding in my chest, my cock standing at attention despite the horror that unfolded before me. It was a macabre dance, one that I never wanted to be a part of, but there I was, a silent observer in the theater of my own destruction. Dhristi's eyes flew open, her pupils dilated with a mix of pain and arousal that made me feel like I was being torn apart from the inside out. Her moans grew in intensity, a crescendo that mirrored the desperation in my soul.

Lakhan leaned down, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss that was more a declaration of ownership than a gesture of passion. Dhristi's hands flew to his shoulders, pushing him away, but he was too strong, too determined to let her go. His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting her, claiming her, and it was all I could do not to scream out in rage and despair.

My hand hovered over the power button, the urge to end the sickening scene almost overwhelming, but something held me back. Maybe it was the hope that I would catch a glimpse of something, anything, that would help me understand what was happening to her, to us. Or maybe it was the darker, more primal part of me that craved the knowledge of my rival's tactics, the way he claimed what was rightfully mine.

On the bed, Lakhan's rhythm grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged pants. Dhristi's legs wrapped around him, not in passion, but in a desperate attempt to anchor herself against the relentless onslaught of his lust. I could almost feel the sting of her pain, the burning fury of her spirit trying to fight back against the monster that ravaged her body.

And then it happened. Dhristi's eyes rolled back in her head, her back arching sharply off the bed. A sound, a mix of pleasure and agony, ripped from her throat. It was a scream so primal, so powerful, that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. Her pussy clenched around Lakhan's cock, her orgasm a violent storm that she had no control over.

The sight of her climax was like a knife to my heart, twisting and turning with each spasm that rocked her body. Lakhan's grin grew wider, his eyes alight with a dark triumph that made me want to reach through the screen and strangle him. He knew he had won, that he had claimed her in the most primal way possible.

He didn't stop, though. No, he was a greedy beast, eager to take his own pleasure. His hips pumped into her with renewed vigor, the slap of skin on skin growing louder, more frantic. Dhristi's body was a battleground, and she had just lost the first round. Lakhan's cock was a brutal invader, plunging into her again and again, each thrust a declaration of victory over her traumatized flesh.

He grunted, the sound animalistic, as he approached his own climax. And when it came, it was with a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality. His cock spasmed within her, filling her with his hot seed.

For close to around five minutes, they both lie on each other as they were both spent. Dhristi's body was limp, her eyes glazed over, lost in a haze of pain and pleasure that she never wanted to feel. Lakhan's weight was a crushing force upon her, his breaths hot and heavy against her neck. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her in a vice-like grip that was almost tender in its possessiveness.

It was almost like watching two lovers, their limbs entangled in a passionate embrace, the sweat on their skin glistening in the soft light of the setting sun. But the reality was far from it. The weight of Lakhan's body was a stark reminder of the violence that had just occurred, his semen a sticky, unwelcome presence inside her.

As Lakhan's breathing evened out, Dhristi lay there, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her forced climax. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the stickiness of his cum mingling with her own arousal. It was a bitter taste of victory, a mockery of the pleasure she had once known.

With a grunt, Lakhan pulled out of her, his cock slipping free with an obscene wet sound. He took a moment to admire the mess he had made, the dark stain of his lust against the bedsheet. Dhristi felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over her as he reached for the bedsheet  to wipe himself clean.. She watched, numb, as Lakhan casually checked his watch, his expression belying the monstrous act he had just committed.

He tucked himself away, his pants sliding up his thighs with a practiced ease. His movements were methodical, almost mundane, as if he had just concluded a business meeting rather than a brutal assault just like he did in previous days.

With a casual yawn, Lakhan straightened his shirt, the fabric sticking to the sheen of sweat that coated his body. His eyes never once met hers, as if Dhristi's shattered soul was of no more significance than a speck of dust on the floor. He was a man who took what he wanted without the slightest hint of remorse, leaving her to lie there, a discarded toy in his wake and left the house.

[tharkibudda]

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[tharkibudda]

[tharkibudda]