The fourteenth night the sitting room of the old Jaipur haveli had become something else entirely—a place of rope, oil, leather, and the constant wet sounds of a woman being broken open. Priya had spent the entire day naked and bound at the wrists, allowed only short periods of freedom to drink water from Vikram’s hand and swallow the small pieces of fruit he pressed between her lips. The ache in both holes never left her. Every step she took sent a dull, filthy reminder through her body of how thoroughly she had been stretched the night before. By the time evening fell her cunt was already dripping, a thin, continuous trickle of arousal sliding down her inner thighs and leaving shiny paths on her skin.

Rohan returned from the office and stripped in silence. His average cock rose quickly despite the shame still etched into his face. He no longer needed to be told what to do. He simply stood waiting, eyes lowered, while Vikram prepared the room.