LOGINHer nails dug into the sheets her head tossing back as her body betrayed her completely. The pressure of his thumb sent waves of heat spiraling through her every nerve in her body alive with need. She tried to hold on tried to slow down but when she pressed harder dragging the soaked fabric aside to stroke her bare swollen clit directly she shattered with a strangled cry.
Her orgasm hit her like lightning her pússy pulsing violently around nothing soaking his hand as her legs trembled uncontrollably. She clawed at his shoulders gasping for air as pleasure ripped through her in waves.
But Liam hadn’t even started with her yet. He shoved her panties aside completely spreading her thighs wide with his rough grip. His fingers slid lower teasing her entrance before plunging inside with brutal precision. Maya’s scream tore through the room her back arching off the mattress as he fúcked her with his fingers curling them deep inside until he found the spot that made her see stars.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was more possession than affection. His tongue claimed her mouth with the same ruthless hunger as his fingers claimed her pússy the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room in obscene harmony with her moans.
When he pulled back his lips were slick with her taste his eyes blazing down at her like he had waited years for this.
“I’m going to ruin you, Maya” he promised darkly his voice a growl of pure lust. “And you’re going to beg me for more.”
Maya fell back against the pillows her chest rising and falling as Liam hovered above her like a predator savoring the moment before the kil. The sheet had slipped from her grip leaving only the thin cotton of her tank top and the heat of his body. His eyes burned into her trailing from the curve of her breasts to her wide open legs and the smirk that curled his lips made her pulse skip.
“Hands above your head,” he ordered his voice low but sharp enough to leave no room for disobedience.
Her breath caught her body trembling at the command. For a second she hesitated shame and nerves warring with the throbbing ache between her thighs. His hand moved to her chin tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look into his eyes.
“I said hands above your head now.
The authority in his tone sliced through her hesitation. Slowly she lifted her arms and laid them above her head her fingers curling into the shets as if to anchor herself. Liam’s smirk deepened apprval flashing in his eyes.
“Good girl.”
His hand slid down her throat presing lightly against the delicate column not enough to hurt but enough to remind her who was in control. He lingered there as his lips brushed the sh.ell of her ear. “You’ve been touching yourself for me moaning for me and now you’re going to let me have every sound that you bring out. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered her voice breaking.
“Yes, what?” he growled.
“Yes… sir,” she breathed the word slipping out instinctively. Her pússy clenched hard at the sound of her own submission.
“Fúck,” he muttered dragging his hand down to her chest.
He cupped her bréast through the thin fabric of her top his thumb circling her already hard nípple. “These are begging for my mouth.”
The pharmacy was a brightly-lit. The air smelled disinfectant and floral air freshener. Dr. Alistair’s crisp, clinical handwriting was a confession, a detailed list of her own perversion for any bored pharmacist to read.‘Rx: One tablet, to be taken orally at 8 PM. Muscle relaxant. For severe, systemic hypersensitivity.’The pharmacist was a cheerful woman with too much makeup and a name tag that read ‘Brenda.’ “My, my, you must have it bad,” she chirped, tapping prescription into her computer. “This is some strong stuff. Dr. Alistair doesn’t mess around. What’s it for, if you don’t mind my asking?”Lily’s face was a burning mask of shame. “Nerve… damage,” she managed to stammer, her voice a thin, reedy thing.“Oh, that’s terrible!” Brenda clucked sympathetically, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Well, this should help take the edge off. Just be careful. It can make you a bit… loopy. And don’t operate any heavy machinery.”The irony was a physical blow. If only she knew what k
The sound of his belt was a sound that sealed her fate. Lily knelt on the cold, hard floor, a wreck of trembling limbs and a mind that was a blank, white canvas of shock and shame. His words, *“Let’s begin,”* echoed in her head, a dark, hypnotic command. He dropped his trousers and his boxers, and his cock, thick and heavy, sprang free. It was angry, a dark, flushed weapon pointing directly at her, a single bead of glistening moisture at its tip.“You made a mess, Ms. Reed,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He gestured to the examination table, where the evidence of her last, shattering orgasm was still a slick, shiny mess on the pristine white paper. “A dirty, filthy mess. You will clean it. With your tongue.”A fresh wave of humiliation, so hot and sharp it was almost painful, washed over her. This was a thousand times worse than the exam. This was degradation. This was being treated like an animal. And a dark, twisted part of her, a part she was terrified to acknowledge,
The next two days were a special kind of hell. A self-inflicted torture chamber of her own making. Lily’s small apartment felt like a prison, her bed a rack where she was stretched and teased. His words were a brand seared into her mind: “You will not come.” It was a command that had rewired her entire nervous system, turning her own body into a traitor.Every night, she would lie in the darkness, her skin humming with a low, desperate ache. She would try to read, try to watch television, anything to distract herself from the traitorous hum between her legs. But it was always there. A dull, persistent throb that demanded attention.On the first night, she broke. Her hand, a traitor of its own, slid down her sweat-slicked stomach and under the waistband of her pajamas. Her fingers found her wet, swollen cunt, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a gasp. She was so sensitive. The lightest brush of her fingertips against her clit was like an electric shock. She circled the hard, aching
The waiting room of Dr. Alistair’s clinic was a controlled misery. Lily sat on a hard, plastic chair, her spine ramrod straight, her hands clenched into fists in her lap so tight her nails dug into her palms. The air was a sterile, recycled hum, scented with a faint, sharp lemon cleaner that did nothing to cut through the cloying, sweet smell of her own fear. Every tick of the wall clock was a hammer blow against her skull.Her condition was a live wire under her skin. It had started an hour ago, as soon as she’d sat down. A low, deep hum had begun in her belly, a treacherous warmth that was now a slow, spreading fire. She squeezed her thighs together under her thin dress, a useless, desperate gesture. The fabric was a torment, a constant friction against her swollen, hypersensitive clit. She could feel the dampness soaking through her panties, a shameful, slick evidence of her body’s betrayal. She was a prisoner in her own skin, and this room, this man, was her only hope for a parole
The rest of the day was a waking nightmare. Anjali moved through the grand haveli like a ghost, her body a traitor, humming with the memory of Vikram’s touch. Every step sent a jolt of sensation through her. The rough fabric of her petticoat felt like sandpaper against her tender, spanked ass. The silk of her saree brushing against her swollen, sensitive breasts was a constant, arousing torment.She bathed, the cool water a shock against her heated skin. She saw the faint red marks on her hips where his fingers had dug into her flesh, the dark shadow of a bruise on her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror, at the woman with the wide, innocent eyes and the body of a well-used whore. A hot, sickening mix of shame and excitement churned in her belly.Dinner was a special kind of hell. The long, polished dining table was filled with the Shekhawat family. Her husband, Rajiv, sat beside her, oblivious, telling a boring story about a new car he wanted to buy. She smiled and nodded, her m
The first week in her new home was a performance. Anjali played her part perfectly. She woke before dawn, prayed with the family, helped her mother-in-law in the kitchen, and spent her days learning the intricate rules of the Shekhawat household. She was a ghost in her own life, her vibrant personality buried under layers of silk and duty.Her husband, Rajiv, was a sweet but simple man. He was kind to her, but his attentions were clumsy and brief. He was more interested in his friends and his cars than in his new, beautiful wife. Anjali felt a familiar, hollow ache of loneliness.But her Jeth, Vikram, was different. He watched her. His gaze was a constant, physical weight on her skin. When she served him tea in the morning, his eyes would linger on the swell of her hips as she turned. When she bent down to touch his feet in a gesture of respect, she could feel his stare on the curve of her ass. He never said anything inappropriate. He never touched her. But his look was a violation, a







