The ninth night the haveli felt different—charged, dangerous, as if the old stone walls themselves were waiting. Priya had spent the entire day in a state of raw, constant wetness. Every time she moved she felt the lingering ache in both of her holes. Every time she sat the soft fabric of her salwar pressed against her still-tender ass and reminded her of the thick loads she had already taken. By evening her cunt was soaked, the thin cotton between her legs dark with her own arousal.

Rohan came home tired but otherwise normal. He ate the simple dinner she prepared, spoke mildly about work, and went to bed at the usual time. This time, following Vikram’s quiet instruction, Priya left the bedroom door wide open. The dark rectangle of the doorway faced directly into the large sitting room. From the bed, if Rohan woke and sat up, he would see everything.