The thirteenth night the sitting room of the haveli smelled of sex, oil, and the faint metallic scent of the iron ring set into the old wooden beam. Priya had spent the day naked again, wrists only unbound long enough for her to drink water and eat a few bites of food from Vikram’s hand. The residual ache in both holes never fully faded. Every time she moved she felt the ghost of the two cocks that had stretched her open the night before. By evening her cunt was already wet, a thin trickle of arousal sliding down one inner thigh as she waited on her knees in the center of the room.

Rohan returned from the office and stripped without being told. His average cock was already half-hard, the same mixture of shame and helpless arousal written across his face. He did not look at her directly. He simply stood waiting for his father’s next instruction.