The Mask of Desire Ch. 03

Please finish Chapter 2 before jumping in--it sets the stage.

3.1: The Dual Masks

The night draped the house in a restless hush, broken only by the faint flicker of Madhuri's phone lighting up her bedroom. Downstairs, Ramesh's snores rumbled on, oblivious to the storm brewing above. Abhi's music thumped softly through the walls, a distant pulse.

She sat on the bed, her soft blue nightie clinging to her skin, riding up her thighs as she toggled between two phones. On her main, she'd unblocked DevilzMask yesterday--his unanswered reply still glowed there: "Keep me close--I'll show you more."

Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck that she despised but couldn't shake. She switched to ShyVelvet, her anonymous escape born last night, and stared at her last sent message: "Maybe I'm closer than you think, stalker. Guess me first."

No reply yet. She'd left him dangling, savoring the upper hand, but now the itch grew, her body betraying her resolve.

She typed slowly, deliberately. "You're quiet, stalker. Scared of a challenge?" Her thumb hovered, then pressed send. She leaned back, waiting, the silence stretching taut.

Across town, Ishaan lounged in his room, the phone's glow catching the smirk curling his lips. Abhi's screenshot of ShyVelvet had blown his mind--she was clever, juggling two accounts, two masks--but he held both strings now.

The shock had faded, replaced by a rush of excitement coursing through him like electricity. Revenge tasted sweet, cruel, and he could already imagine outsmarting her, turning her game against her.

He reclined on his bed, fingers drumming the sheets in anticipation. She wouldn't see it coming, and that made his grin widen.

Her alt's latest taunt popped up, and his dick twitched--she wanted action, craved it--but he'd make her beg first.

"No one's gonna stop me from doing what I'm about to do to you, Aunty," he laughed under his breath, the sound low and wicked.

Texting her main, he typed fast. "Sorry to disturb Madhuri, just couldn't keep quiet. Especially after watching you in that red kurta today. Bet it feels good hugging you tight." He hit send, leaning back with a predator's patience.

Madhuri's main phone buzzed, and she scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Idiot! Why's he texting my main again?" she muttered, but her cheeks burned, his words slicing through her armor.

She fired back quickly. "Flattery won't work. Leave me alone."

Her alt stayed silent--no buzz, no reply--and the ache in her sharpened, a hunger she couldn't voice on her main.

She switched again, typing furiously. "Ignoring me, huh? Guess I'm not worth your time." She sent it, leaning back, thighs pressing together under the nightie as the humid air clung tighter.

Ishaan grinned, ignoring her alt entirely. "Perfect, let her stew," he thought, picturing her frustration.

He fired back to her main instead. "Leave you? Can't. You're in my head--all that beauty, wasted on a snoring fool." He sent it, imagining her squirming with anger as Ramesh's snores echoed below, a cruel jab she couldn't dodge.

Madhuri read it, her breath hitching. The truth in his words stung, and she typed back, furious. "You know nothing about my life. Stop."

But her fingers lingered on her alt, itching for his reply there, craving the tease she could unleash. Silence greeted her instead, leaving her confused, dangling on his hook.

Downstairs, Abhi sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Ishaan's smug face flashed in his mind, those screenshots spreading like poison through their twisted game. "What's gonna happen now?" he wondered, the house feeling smaller, darker, like it was closing in.

He'd handed his mom over to Ishaan, and the thrill of it--sharp, dark, undeniable--mixed with a gnawing dread. He'd broken something, maybe beyond repair, and the dance unfolding above him cast him as a shadow he couldn't escape.

Upstairs, Madhuri's smirk returned as she stared at her alt phone. She'd sent her taunt, and though he'd gone quiet, she felt the power still--her mask intact, her game alive.

She locked the phone away, pride swelling. Across town, Ishaan's grin held a darker edge. He had her moves, her secrets, and the next play was his.

3.2: The Friend's Facade

The next morning spilled soft light into the kitchen as Abhi shuffled in, eyes bleary, his glasses fogged from sleep. Madhuri stood at the stove, flipping dosas with a practiced flick, her purple kurta catching the sun--a bright splash against the steel.

She hummed a tune he didn't recognize, her movements light, like some invisible weight had slipped off her shoulders. He watched her, the secret of her alt phone burning in his gut.

"She's texting Ishaan, playing a game she doesn't even know he's winning," he thought, the words heavy in his chest.

"Had a good sleep, Maa?" he asked, his voice tight, barely above a mumble.

She nodded, flashing a smile. "Yeah, sweetie, you?"

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes, "Me too," the lie sticking in his throat like dry bread.

The doorbell cut through the moment, sharp and sudden. Madhuri wiped her hands on a towel and opened it to Ishaan, his grin wide and unannounced.

"Namaste, aunty! Abhi said you're free--thought I'd drop by," he chirped, stepping in.

His white tee clung to his chest, and Madhuri blinked, caught off-guard. "Ohh hi, Ishaan--come in," she said, stepping aside, her smile polite but edged with wariness.

Abhi glared, hissing under his breath, "I didn't say that!" But Ishaan just winked, striding past like he owned the place.

"Smells like heaven again," Ishaan said, sniffing the air, his gaze sliding over her kurta--subtle, but hungry. "You're spoiling us, aunty."

Madhuri laughed, brushing it off. "Don't you start. Sit--want dosa?" She plated one and handed it over, his fingers grazing hers--deliberate, slow.

"Thanks, aunty. You're too good to us," he said, his voice dipping into a velvet edge that made her hand falter, a flicker of heat sparking in her chest. She hid it fast, turning back to the stove.

Abhi watched, fists clenched under the table. Ishaan's charm, his mom's flush--it was too much. "We've got homework," he blurted, standing abruptly, but Ishaan waved him off.

"Chill, bro--let me enjoy this first." He bit into the dosa, moaning loud and exaggerated. "Fuck--oops, sorry, aunty--best thing I've tasted."

Madhuri swatted his arm, laughing despite herself. "Watch that mouth, boy!" But her eyes lingered a beat too long, catching the flex of his biceps under her touch, and Abhi's stomach twisted.

A thrill he hated spiked sharp, clawing at him.

Ishaan stayed an hour, filling the kitchen with chatter about cricket, praising her cooking, dropping flirty jabs she deflected with playful scolds.

"You're a trouble, Ishaan," she said as he headed for the door, her tone teasing, light.

"Only the good kind, aunty," he grinned back, stepping out slow, letting the words hang.

The door clicked shut, and Madhuri leaned against it, her breath uneven. Ishaan's energy lingered--bold, young, stirring her in ways she couldn't voice.

It reminded her of the stalker, that same electric pull. Her alt buzzed in her mind--silent, ignored--and the ache grew, her fingers itching to break free.

She pulled out the old phone, switching to ShyVelvet, and typed fast. "Still scared, stalker? I'm waiting." She sent it, a dare, her pride bending under a need she couldn't name, pulsing hot beneath her skin.

Across town, Ishaan saw the message pop up and smirked. He'd ghost her alt, push her main, play her like a fiddle. He flipped to her main account, where she'd last snapped, "You know nothing about my life."

His fingers danced over the keys. "I know everything, dear--bet you're gorgeous in purple today." He hit send, leaning back, imagining her reaction.

Madhuri's main phone buzzed, and she scoffed, the sound sharp in the empty kitchen.

"How'd he know?" she wondered, her thighs pressing together instinctively.

A secret smile tugged at her lips, buried fast under a scowl as she stared at the screen, caught between fury and a flicker of something darker, something alive.

3.3: The Flirt's Assault​

The Sunday sun dipped low, painting Hyderabad's streets in long, lazy shadows as Madhuri stood in her kitchen, chopping onions with a rhythm that mirrored her racing thoughts. Her yellow chudidhar hugged her curves, the fabric soft but tight, and the memory of Ishaan's visit lingered--his bold grin, the slow graze of his fingers over hers.

She'd scolded herself all day--she's a mother, a wife, not some giddy girl--but the heat wouldn't fade, a restless pulse she couldn't outrun.

Her phones sat on the counter, two lives staring back at her, and she glanced at them every few minutes, half-expecting, half-dreading the buzz.

Downstairs, Abhi sprawled on the couch, his textbook open but untouched for an hour. He'd seen it--her laugh when Ishaan teased her, the way her hand lingered on his arm, her eyes sparking with something alive. It wasn't just politeness; it was electric, and it twisted him up. Guilt choked him, but a dark thrill sparked every time he pictured Ishaan closer, too close.

His phone buzzed, Ishaan's name lighting up the screen. "What's she doing, fucker? Feed me."

Abhi's hands moved fast, mechanical, typing back. "Cooking. Yellow chudidhar. Looks... happy." He hit send and sank deeper into the cushion, a traitor's weight settling heavy in his bones.

Ishaan's reply snapped back quick. "Good, now watch this."

Across town, Ishaan leaned against his bedframe, shirtless, sweat beading on his chiseled chest as he typed into DevilzMask. He ignored ShyVelvet--her last taunt sat unanswered, a deliberate snub--and zeroed in on her main, where he could toy with her pride.

"Cooking in that chudidhar, Madhuri? Bet it hugs you tight--like every guy's dream right now." He sent it, grinning wide, knowing she'd squirm, knowing her alt was starving for him.

Madhuri's main phone buzzed mid-chop, the knife slipping as she grabbed it. His words glared up at her--and her breath caught, a flush creeping hot up her neck. "How did he know? Is he some kinda ghost?" she hissed, slamming the knife down, her pride flaring sharp.

She typed back, furious and fast. "Who are you?! You're disgusting. I'll block you again--stay away." Her finger hovered over the block button, trembling with intent.

But she didn't press it. Couldn't.

His words hit too close, stirring a heat she'd buried under years of duty, and she hated how it thrilled her, quick and alive.

She switched to ShyVelvet, the silence there a slap--nothing since her dare, and the ache grew, sharp and needy. Staring at the blank chat, her resolve cracked.

"What are you doing, Madhuri?" she murmured, questioning herself, but her fingers betrayed her, typing fast. "Guess you're too weak to play, stalker. I'm here--where are you?" She sent it, leaning against the counter, thighs clenching as she waited, the air thick with her own tension.

Nothing. The quiet roared, his absence a taunt, and it drove her wild--her main buzzing with his flirts, her alt ignored, a game she didn't understand but couldn't quit.

Ishaan saw the alt message pop up, his smirk widening--perfect, she was breaking, chasing him now. He left it cold, flipping back to her main instead.

"Disgusting? Nah, just real--bet you're wet reading this, Madhuri. Tell me I'm wrong." He hit send, leaning back, his dick hardening at the thought of her flustered, caught between rage and want.

Madhuri's phone buzzed again, his audacity a punch. She read it and gasped, "Yuck!" but her body betrayed her, a slick warmth pooling between her legs, undeniable and humiliating.

She typed back, hands shaking. "You're sick. I'm done." But she wasn't--her alt ached for his bite, and the lie stung her more than him.

Abhi crept to the kitchen doorway, peering in--his mom's flush, her quick breaths, the way she gripped her phone like it might burn her. He texted Ishaan, fast and quiet.

"She's mad. Red-faced. Keeps checking her phone." Ishaan's reply shot back. "I know dipshit, she's mine. Keep observing."

Abhi's chest tightened, the thrill overtaking the guilt, a dark current pulling him deeper. He was in it now, feeding the fire, and it burned too good to stop.

3.4: The Alt's Plea

Monday morning slammed in hard. Madhuri stood at her vanity, brushing her hair with furious strokes, her black nightie traded for a tight green chudidhar, leggings clinging to her thick thighs.

She'd barely slept. DevilzMask's last message--"Bet you're wet reading this"--haunted her dreams, faceless hands and a voice she couldn't place twisting through her mind.

Her main account had buzzed all night with his flirts, each bolder than the last, while ShyVelvet stayed silent, a void she couldn't fill. She hated him--hated how he saw through her--but the need clawed at her, raw and unyielding.

She grabbed her main phone. His latest waited there: "Green today, Madhuri? Bet it's tight--makes me wanna peel it off."

Her jaw dropped. "How the hell?" she gasped, rage spilling out as she typed back, "You're a pig. I'll report you--stop this now!"

She slammed the phone down. But her nipples hardened under the chudidhar, a traitor's response she couldn't hide. She switched to ShyVelvet. The silence there was a wound.

Earlier, she'd sent, "Too weak to play?" and gotten nothing. It stung her pride worse than his flirts.

"Ain't you got no shame, Madhuri?" she whispered, scolding herself.

But her fingers moved, desperate, typing into ShyVelvet, "Ignoring me won't win you anything, stalker. I'm here--talk or lose me."

She sent it, breath shallow, a plea masked as a taunt. She waited, staring at the screen, her body humming.

Still nothing. The rejection burned, flipping her defiance into something hungrier.

She typed again, bolder this time.

"Maybe I'll show you what you're missing--scared to see?" She hit send, heart pounding, a line crossed she couldn't uncross.

Ishaan lounged at high school, skipping PE, his phone hidden under the bleachers. He scrolled her main--her "You're a pig, I'll report you" making him laugh, loud and dark.

"Oh, Aunty, you're fucked," he muttered, typing back to her main, "Report me? Go ahead--I'd still dream of those lips, sucking me dry."

He sent it, his dick twitching at the filth, knowing she'd read it, fume, and secretly melt. Her ShyVelvet pinged at the same time--"Scared to see?"--and he grinned, ignoring it still.

She was begging now, cracking wide open. He'd let her drown in it before he bit.

Abhi sat nearby, head down, sketching useless circles in his notebook, his mind elsewhere.

Ishaan nudged him, voice low. "Hey, green chudidhar, right?"

Abhi flinched, nodding. "Yeah..."

That night, Madhuri paced her room, Ramesh out late, the house hers. Her main buzzed--"I'm here imagining those lips, sucking me dry"--and she gasped, "Eww!"

She tossed the phone aside, but her pussy clenched, insistent, betraying her. She wanted him on ShyVelvet, where she could say anything without consequences, not her main, where she felt exposed.

She grabbed her alt. His silence there was a slap--she'd begged, and he'd ignored her.

"I must put an end to this here," she told herself, voice firm. But the need won, drowning her resolve.

Her voice shook as she recorded a note into ShyVelvet. "You're missing out, mister--my voice, my heat... come get it." She sent it, a husky whisper, her pride crumbling under the ache, hoping he'd bite back.

Ishaan heard it, alone in his room, and groaned--her voice, low and needy, hit him like a fist.

He ignored it, texting her main instead after a few hours. "Bet you're alone now, Madhuri--touching yourself, thinking of me?"

Madhuri read it, her hand slipping between her thighs before she yanked it back, texting, "You're vile--stop!"

But her ShyVelvet ached. She thought hard, then snapped a pic in the chudidhar--neckline low, cleavage teasing, face painted out, believing her identity safe.

"See this, Mr. Devil? Reply or I'm gone," she sent via ShyVelvet, heart pumping hard.

It was her first time sending pics online--not even Ramesh had gotten this.

"Ain't you better than this?" she recalled, cringing, remembering her advice to junior associates: "Never send pics to men online." She sank to the floor, shame warring with the thrill.

Ishaan grinned, saving it--still silent on ShyVelvet, pushing her main instead. "Vile? I know you love it--bet you're soaked."

Madhuri's resolve frayed. Her alt's silence was torment--she wanted him there, not here--and the dance was breaking her, step by slow, delicious step.

3.5: The First Breach

Tuesday night cloaked the house in a humid stillness. Ramesh's faint snores drifted from the living room couch--he'd crashed early, leaving Madhuri alone upstairs.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, the sheer lavender nightie whispering against her skin as she scrolled her phones. Her main account buzzed relentlessly--DevilzMask's latest, "Bet you're soaked," still lingered,

her sharp "You're atrocious--stop!" a flimsy shield against the heat pooling low in her belly.

Her alt, ShyVelvet, ached in silence. Her voice note, her teasing cleavage snap--ignored--and the rejection gnawed at her, a wound she couldn't soothe.

She stared at her main, his filth slicing under her pride. "Who even are you, huh? Quit lurking, it's freaking me out," she whispered, her voice trembling in the dark.

She switched to ShyVelvet. The blank chat taunted her--her unanswered text, her husky "Come get it" echoing into nothing. Her fingers hovered, itching to push harder, but pride held her back--barely.

Across town, Ishaan sprawled on his floor, shorts low, his phone propped against a cricket bat. He grinned at her main's defiance, her "You're atrocious" fueling him.

"Atrocious, huh? Guess I know what to do," he muttered, voice rough with lust.

He'd ignored ShyVelvet all day--her pleas, her snap--saved to a locked folder, letting her simmer. Now, he'd strike.

He stood before the mirror, rugged black jeans unbuttoned, shirt off. Soft light carved shadows across his chiseled frame--abs rippling, V-line teasing as he tugged his waistband lower.

He snapped the shot--legs spread, shoulders squared, smirk daring her to want. Attached it to her main with a slow-typed, "Am I atrocious enough, Madhuri? Bet you're dying to lay your hands all over me."

He hit send, pulse racing--first breach, her wall about to crack.

Madhuri's main buzzed. She opened it, expecting another taunt, then froze. A gasp slipped out--"Dear God! What is this?"--as she dropped the phone like it burned.

Her eyes locked on his body, a masterpiece of temptation. She typed, hands shaking, lips tingling as she bit down hard. "You're sick--delete this now!"

But her gaze slid over his hand resting low, that V-line pulling her in like a magnet.

She grabbed her alt--the silence there unbearable now. She recorded another note, voice low and shaky. "Are you teasing someone else, Handsome? I'm waiting here--give me what I want."

Her breath ragged, she snapped a photo--nightie pulled low, melons spilling out, nipples hard against the fabric.

"Is this worth your time?" she sent via ShyVelvet, face blurred, a desperate bid as her pride crumbled under the weight of his silence.

Ishaan's phone pinged. Her main's "Delete this!" made him laugh, her ShyVelvet note and snap making him groan.

Her voice--needy, cracking--hit him hard. That photo? Fuck, she was breaking, offering herself up. But he'd keep ShyVelvet cold.

He texted her main, slow and filthy. "Sick? Bet you're looking at it biting your lips, Madhuri--give them some rest."

He sent it, saving her alt's gifts--her tits, her plea--his control tightening, her dance his to lead.

Downstairs, Abhi crept through the dark, hearing his mom's gasp from above. He paused at her door, ajar, and peeked.

She sat on the bed, phones in hand, chest heaving, a flush he knew too well. His dick twitched, shame flooding him fast.

He sank against the wall, the breach widening, his role a chain he couldn't break.

3.1: 3.6: The Inners' Surrender

Wednesday morning dawned brutal. Madhuri stumbled out of bed, eyes bleary, her lavender nightie crumpled from a night of tossing.

That photo--his raw, magnetic heat--haunted her. She'd barely slept, DevilzMask's "Give your lips some rest" buzzing through her main, her ShyVelvet alt silent despite her pleas--voice note, breasts bared, all ignored.

She'd resisted touching herself, barely, her pride a fraying thread against the flood of want. "This isn't you, Madhuri, You lost your damn mind" she whispered, splashing water on her face.

The mirror showed a woman unraveling--flushed, wild, lost. She dressed fast--an orange saree, backless black blouse, for work--but her hands shook, the alt phone a weight in her bag.

At breakfast, Abhi watched her, silent. His question from yesterday--"Ishaan's cool, right?"--still rang in her ears. She'd brushed it off, but his stare now unnerved her.

"What, Abhi?, staring like that?" she snapped, sharper than intended.

He flinched, mumbling, "Uh... nothing, Maa," and bolted, leaving her alone with her chaos.

At the office, a colleague's "Orange's your color, Madhuri" barely registered. She nodded, distracted, her main buzzing mid-meeting.

DevilzMask's message glared up: "That saree's killing me, Madhuri--bet it's tight around that ass."

She gasped, hiding the screen, typing back, "You're insane--stop or I'll tell someone!"

But her pussy throbbed, his words a match to her dry tinder. She excused herself, locking the bathroom door.

Her alt glared--nothing--and the ache snapped her restraint. She recorded, voice husky, desperate. "You're leaving me cold, dear--here's me, wanting you."

She lifted her saree, snapping her black lace panties--wet, clinging.

"See this? All this risk is for you, my love! Reply or I'm done," she sent via ShyVelvet, breath hitching, a surrender she couldn't take back.

Back home, she paced, main buzzing again. "Insane? I'm just horny for you--wait a sec," DevilzMask taunted.

"What am I getting into now?" she muttered, closing the chat in shame, the suspense gnawing at her.

In his bathroom, Ishaan leaned against the wall near the shower, wearing nothing but tight trunks. One leg bent casually, hips tilted, his broad shoulders flexed as his hand rested low on his thigh.

His thick, rigid length pressed hard against the fabric--bold, massive, pulsing with need, barely contained. He angled his phone, snapping the shot, and sent it to her main.

"Do you see why I'm insane? My baby boo, bet you're drooling now," he typed, the image a dare, raw and unfiltered.

Madhuri's phone buzzed. She swiped it open, eyes locking on the photo. A sharp breath caught in her throat, lips parting as heat surged through her like wildfire.

His pose--hips cocked, muscular legs, trunks hugging that bulge--dared her to look closer. "God damn! He's packed!" she whispered, fingers trembling, caught between shock and a craving she couldn't shake.

Her skin tingled, every nerve alight, imagining that heat so close she could feel it. She typed, acting furious. "You're filth--delete it all!"

But her ShyVelvet's silence screamed louder. She broke, grabbing a red bra from her drawer, snapping it against her skin. "This too, stalker--talk to me!" she sent via ShyVelvet, face blurred, her wild side clawing free.

Ishaan lounged on his couch, phone a treasure trove--her main's rage, her ShyVelvet's flood: voice note, panties, bra. He groaned, hard, her desperation a drug.

He ignored ShyVelvet--let her drown in it--and texted her main, slow and dirty. "Filth? You're begging for it--bet you're touching yourself to that pic right now."

He sent it, picturing her squirm, her alt's gifts saved, her surrender his to savor.

At home, Abhi cornered her, casual. "Maa, Ishaan's pretty hot, huh? Girls like him."

She froze, saree mid-pleat, eyes narrowing. "What's this, Abhi? He's your friend--don't talk nonsense," she snapped, voice wavering, her flush betraying her.

He texted Ishaan fast. "She got weird. Red-faced again."

Ishaan replied, "Don't worry--she's cracking. I've got her."

Madhuri locked herself in her room, main buzzing--"Touching yourself?"--and she moaned, low, her hand slipping before she stopped.

"You're a monster--stop!" she texted back, but her ShyVelvet pleaded--panties, bra, voice--his silence there breaking her, a surrender in lace and whispers she couldn't cage.

3.7: The Alt's Flood

The night descended like a fever, Hyderabad's air thick and oppressive. Madhuri locked her bedroom door, Ramesh out late with colleagues, Abhi downstairs lost in his headphones.

She stood before her mirror, maroon saree discarded in a heap, her body bare save for a black satin nightie--short, daring, a secret she'd bought years ago and never worn.

Her phones glowed on the dresser--her main a battlefield, her alt a begging ground. She trembled, caught between rage and a need she couldn't name.

The lie stung--her pussy slick despite her words.

His thirst traps lingered--thick, manly, menacing, a promise Ramesh could never match--and her alt's silence mocked her, her snaps of panties and bra unanswered, her voice notes lost in the void.

Her reflection showed a woman undone--nipples hard under satin, eyes wild with want. She grabbed her alt phone, his silence a knife twisting deeper.

She'd begged--"Talk to me!"--and gotten nothing, while her main drowned in his filth. The ache was unbearable, her pride a shredded veil.

She gave in, recording a new voice note, voice low and cracking. "You're killing me, Hottie--ignoring this? I'm burning... please."

She sent it, breath ragged, then lifted the nightie, snapping a shot--her curves spilling out, satin barely covering her ass, her lips barely covering her identity.

"Look at me--reply or I'm gone for real," she sent via ShyVelvet, a floodgate breaking, her body trembling with the rush.

Ishaan sat cross-legged on his floor, the night's heat sticking to his bare skin. His phone was a live wire in his hands--ShyVelvet pinged with her voice note, her snap--and he groaned, her desperation a symphony.

"Fuck, Aunty!" he muttered, saving them. Her husky "I'm burning," her ass teasing the frame--but he left it cold.

He switched to her main, typing slow. "Monster? You're the one dripping for me--bet you're alone, begging for it."

He sent it, dick throbbing, knowing her alt was screaming while her main fought, a delicious split he'd widen.

Madhuri's main buzzed. "Begging for it" slapped her--she gasped, "Ugh!"--but her hand slipped under the nightie, brushing her clit before she yanked it back.

"You're delusional--stop this madness!" she texted, her alt's silence a torment.

She broke harder, grabbing a lacy blue thong from her drawer--hidden, shameful.

She slipped it on, snapping it tight against her wet folds.

"This is yours, Mr. Devil--talk to me..." she sent via ShyVelvet, moaning softly, control slipping through her fingers like sand.

Downstairs, Abhi pulled off his headphones. The house was too quiet--Mom locked away, her tension bleeding through the walls.

He crept upstairs, pausing at her door--locked, but a faint moan seeped out, sharp and raw. His dick twitched, guilt drowning in a flood of heat.

He texted fast. "She's in her room. Heard something... weird."

Ishaan replied, "I know lame-ass, she's on the right track."

Madhuri paced, her ShyVelvet flood unanswered--voice, ass, thong. Her main buzzed again--"Delusional? Bet you're touching that pussy now--tell me how wet it is."

She choked, a sob of rage and need. "You're filth--I'll end this!" she texted back.

But her alt pleaded--a final snap, nightie hiked, hand hovering near her crotch.

"Last chance, stalker--I'm here," she sent via ShyVelvet, collapsing onto the bed.

Her body was a live wire, the flood her undoing, his silence the cruelest tease yet.

3.8: The Main's Shame

Friday morning crashed in like a storm. Madhuri woke tangled in her sheets, the black satin nightie twisted around her hips, her alt phone dead beside her.

She'd sent everything to ShyVelvet--voice, thong, near-nude snaps--and gotten nothing. DevilzMask tormented her main with "Tell me how wet," unanswered but burned into her.

Her fingers had betrayed her in the dark, circling her clit to his pic before shame stopped her short. "Don't you have any pride left?," she whispered, dragging herself up, body heavy with unspent want.

She dressed sharp--a white blouse, tight navy pants, blazer--hoping work would ground her. But her main buzzed as she sipped tea.

"Morning, Madhuri--did you dream of me? Bet you woke up soaked," DevilzMask taunted. She choked, tea spilling, and typed back, furious. "You're a nightmare--stop or I'll ruin you!"

Her threat rang hollow. Ruin him how? she thought, her alt's silence gnawing deeper--pleas ignored, flood unseen.

She switched to ShyVelvet, typing fast. "You're a coward, mister--too scared to face me? I'm done waiting." She sent it, pride a tattered flag, waving for his bite.

At high school, Ishaan skipped math, sprawled under the bleachers. His phone was a goldmine--ShyVelvet's flood saved, her main's rage a tease.

He grinned, hard already. Her "Ruin you" was a joke--he had her, split wide open.

He ignored ShyVelvet, texting her main slow.

"Nightmare? I'm your fantasy--bet you're squirming in those pants right now. Tell me you're not," he sent, picturing her flush, her alt's desperation his trump card, held back for the kill.

Madhuri read it mid-meeting, her pen snapping in her grip. "Tell me you're not"--her thighs clenched, a wet pulse she couldn't stop.

"Nasty fellow," she hissed, texting, "I'm not--stop this filth!" But she was--soaked, shamed--her alt's silence breaking her resolve.

She locked her office door, voice trembling as she recorded. "You win--I'm here, burning... please," she sent via ShyVelvet, then snapped her blouse open--bra peeking, cleavage deep.

"I know you're watching all my pics. How could you ignore me?--talk now," she added, breath hitching, a plea she couldn't mask.

Abhi caught Ishaan at break, face pale. Ishaan's "Push her again" a weight he couldn't shake.

"She's off, man," he said, voice low. "Yelled at me this morning."

Ishaan smirked, clapping his back. "Don't mind that, she's ripe. Keep pushing."

Abhi nodded, numb, the storm pulling him under.

Madhuri locked herself in her room that night, main buzzing--"Squirming in those pants?"--and she moaned, low.

"You're really a devil--stop!" she texted, but her alt flooded again--voice, bra, a snap of her pants unzipped, hand teasing the edge.

"See this, stalker? I'm yours--talk!" she sent, collapsing, shame on her main, surrender on her alt, his silence a whip cracking her open.

Ishaan saved it all--ShyVelvet a treasure chest, her main a playground. He texted her main, slow and cruel.

"Devil? I am indeed one for you, my sexy bombshell. I'm gonna make you kneel in front of me," he sent, ignoring her alt still.

Her shame was his fuel, her flood his victory, the dance tilting wilder with every unanswered plea.

3.9: The Private Unveil

Friday night swallowed the house in a suffocating quiet. Ramesh was out again, Abhi locked in his room with music, leaving Madhuri alone in her bedroom, a prisoner of her own skin.

The white blouse and navy pants lay crumpled on the floor, replaced by a sheer red nightie--barely there, a scarlet whisper against her curves.

Her phones glowed like twin flames on the bed--her main a warzone of DevilzMask's assaults, "Devil for you, my sexy bombshell," her ShyVelvet alt a silent abyss despite her flood of pleas--voice notes, bra snaps, pants unzipped.

Her body betrayed her, wet and aching. His silence on ShyVelvet was a torment she couldn't endure. She stood before the mirror, nightie riding high, breasts straining against the fabric, nipples dark and hard through the sheen.

Her eyes burned--wild, alive, a woman she didn't recognize. His thirst trap flashed--thick, unyielding--and her pussy clenched, craving it raw, unfiltered, a pulse she couldn't stop.

She grabbed her main, his latest taunt glaring: "I'm gonna make you kneel in front of me." "Kneel and...?" she wondered, hand slipping between her thighs, brushing her clit before she yanked it back.

"You're trash--stop this!" she texted, her defiance a lie crumbling under his relentless push. Her alt phone trembled in her grip--his silence there a whip cracking her pride.

She'd sent everything--thong, cleavage, her hand teasing--and gotten nothing, while her main drowned in his filth. She recorded, voice husky, desperate. "You're breaking me, stalker--I can't wait anymore... please," she sent via ShyVelvet, breath shallow.

She hiked the nightie, snapping her bare stomach, the curve of her hip, a hint of her bush peeking out. "Stop being cocky and talk to me now..." she sent, a private unveil, shame a distant echo.

Ishaan sprawled on his bed, shorts off, phone a shrine to her collapse.

ShyVelvet pinged--her voice cracking, "Breaking me," her snap a tease of skin--and he groaned, "Fuck," saving it, dick twitching.

He held firm, ignoring ShyVelvet, switching to her main.

"Trash? You're the one falling for me--bet you've stripped down all the way naked for me, begging," he typed slow and filthy, sending it, picturing her squirm.

Her alt's flood was a trophy he'd claim soon, her main his whip to lash her shame.

Madhuri's main buzzed--"Stripped down all the way"--and she moaned low, legs parting instinctively before snapping shut. "You're a beast--delete it all!" she texted, but she craved more.

His thirst traps fueled her--fantasizing his cock, raw and adventurous, dark thoughts creeping wild in her mind. She broke, stripping the nightie fully, snapping her nude body--full frontal, no blur, everything bare.

"See me, stalker--I'm yours... all of it. Completely surrendered. What you want to do with it is up to you, my love. Please reply," she sent via ShyVelvet, collapsing, breath ragged, a surrender she couldn't claw back.

Ishaan lounged on his couch across town, phone buzzing with her latest. He'd been reveling in her main's flirtations--those pics, coy then daring, had him hard and grinning.

He'd ignored ShyVelvet for days, letting her stew, but this? He opened it, and the image hit like a punch--her body naked, glistening in soft light, every curve laid bare.

His dick stirred instantly, straining against his jeans, a low groan slipping out.

"Fuckk! Look at her! She's an absolute angel. Guess I'm one lucky bastard," he whispered, feeling bigger, heavier.

He leaned forward, eyes locked, tracing her--boobs full and heavy, hips folding into soft flesh, the tease of her pussy making his pulse race. She was breaking, crumbling under his game.

The "my love" hit different--soft, pleading, not just a taunt. He'd wanted her to beg, and here she was, offering everything. His chest tightened--triumph mixed with possession.

She wasn't just a toy now; she was his, sinking in deep. He ran a hand through his hair, breath ragged. "Don't you worry, aunty, you'll soon experience my heaven," he muttered, his cocky edge softening into something possessive, dark, and new.

3.10: The Wild Break

Saturday morning cracked open raw. Madhuri woke sprawled across her bed, the red nightie a crumpled rag beside her, body bare and slick with sweat.

She'd sent it all to ShyVelvet--breasts, thighs, a glimpse of her pussy--and his silence lingered, a cruel void after her flood. Shame drowned in need, a ghost she'd banished.

She sat up, trembling, the mirror reflecting a stranger--hair wild, eyes feverish, a woman unmoored. "You've turned alien, Madhuri!" she whispered, staring at her guilty reflection.

Her hand drifted to her drawer--the rose, the petal, locked with her secrets. She grabbed her main, his latest glaring: "I see you're starting to collapse, my dark angel! Bet you're spread wide right now, begging."

She choked, a sob of rage and want, texting, "You're crossing lines--just block me!" But the threat was hollow--she didn't want him gone, and the lie burned her throat.

His "Spread wide, begging" turned her phone molten, her hormones screaming to go further. She recorded, voice raw, pleading. "You've seen me, babe--all of me... now talk or I'll scream," she sent via her alt, breath hitching.

She stripped fully, snapping her nude body--full frontal, wet pussy glistening.

"Look, my thighs are drifting apart for you--come and take it, please," she sent, pride ashes at her feet.

Ishaan woke hard, phone a jackpot. ShyVelvet's flood hit--her voice "Scream," her nude raw and unfiltered--and he growled, "Holy fuck," saving it instantly.

His dick pulsed, but he shifted gears, texting her main slow. "Crossing lines? You're the one naked for me--bet you're touching yourself right now."

He sent it, then--finally--replied to ShyVelvet, short and cryptic. "Seen you, mystery girl--been seeing you a lot. Fuck, you're hot. I give you that! Do you wanna see something from me?"

He hit send, flipping the game--her alt now his playground, her main his lash.

Madhuri's alt buzzed--"You're hot" from DevilzMask--and she gasped, a jolt of triumph and terror.

"Yayy! He'd replied--finally!" she chirped, then read "Do you wanna see something?"

Her body sang, wet and ready. She typed, acting harsh. "Finally! God knows how hard these last few days were for me. Why'd it take you so long to text back? I don't want to see anything." She sent it, twitching with excitement.

Her main buzzed--"Touching yourself"--and she typed, furious. "You're wrong--shut up!"

Ishaan leaned back, unbuttoning his jeans with a flick. His boxers slid down, freeing his 9-inch cock--hard, thick, pulsing with the heat she'd stoked.

He snapped it, dick in hand, tip glistening in the dim light. "You said you'd scream if I didn't talk. Now, scream for this, my lady," he sent to ShyVelvet, leaning back.

Madhuri's alt buzzed. She opened it fast and froze--the photo hit like a slap. His dick, massive, bold, filled the screen.

"Oh myyy, why's it so big?" she hissed, eyes wide and stunned. "Bigger than I imagined--you lucky slut, Madhuri!"

It dwarfed Ramesh's limp 5 inches, a beast she'd never dreamed of. Her pussy clenched, wet and traitorous.

She typed, sulking. "I told you not to send it. What's this--some big reward? I'm not impressed. You kept me waiting."

Ishaan chuckled, low and rough. "She's sulking--cute!" Her sass fueled him.

"Not impressed? Babe, don't lie--I bet you're still staring. You were pleading before--'all yours, my love'--ring a bell?" he sent to ShyVelvet.

Madhuri's breath caught, pout faltering. Her eyes flicked to the pic, stomach flipping at its size, its sheen.

"You're right. I begged. And that... that size..." she typed, fingers shaky, then stopped, clearing it. "Pleading? Maybe I was just bored. You think this fixes the wait? Try harder, stalker--I'm not that easy," she sent, clinging to her act as heat pooled low.

Ishaan laughed, dark and throaty, confidence surging. "Bored? Nah, you were desperate--'take it all,' you said. I've got it saved. Admit it, you're hooked now."

Madhuri's chest tightened, flush creeping up her neck. "Saved?" she thought, terrified but thrilled.

Her eyes drifted back to his pic--the nerves, the size--cracking her resolve. "What would it feel like?" she dreamed, driving her crazy.

"Hooked? You wish. You're the one sending pics now--who's desperate? I could've ignored you," she sent via ShyVelvet, playing tough but slipping.

Ishaan grinned, victory in his grip. "Ignored me? Sure, babe--yet here you are, still typing. I sent that pic 'cause you earned it--after all that begging. Keep sulking, but we both know you're thinking about it now."

Madhuri bit her lip, a whine catching in her throat. "He's right--damn him, he's right," she muttered, dropping the phone, curling into herself, blanket tight as shame crumbled.

Her alt buzzed--"Send a voice note. I wanna hear you." Her chest tightened, remembering her pleas.

She typed quick. "No, I don't want to talk to you."

Ishaan's brow arched, grin tugging back. "Why not? Immersed in that pic? Got you flustered? Prove it--send a voice note. Let's hear that fight in you."

Madhuri's breath hitched, resolve fracturing. "Damn him," she muttered, hitting record, voice quivering.

"Y-you think I'm... I'm just sitting here staring at... at that? It's n-not even... I mean, it's big, okay, but--ugh, stop it!" she sent via ShyVelvet, wincing, face burning.

The stammer, the slip--raw and exposed. Ishaan played it, laughing loud and triumphant. Her "It's big, okay"--gold.

"Oh, babe, you're cracking me up. You're done, my lady. Give up already--can't even talk straight 'cause of me. Admit it, you're toast," he sent, glee dripping.

Madhuri's stomach twisted, his mocking sinking in. The shame, the good-wife mask--useless now.

She gave up, not defeated, but free, wild. "Fine, you win, stalker. I'm toast--happy now? That... thing you sent--it's messing with me, and I'm slowly falling for you," she sent via ShyVelvet, flirting back, walls down.

Ishaan's dick twitched, her surrender hitting hard. "You're all flirty now--love that. What's next?" he sent, teasing but hungry.

She laughed nervously, biting her lip. "Next? You tell me, stalker--I'm here," she sent, then snapped--on her knees, ass up, a finger brushing her dripping pussy folds.

"This next enough?" she sent via her alt, moaning low, wild side unleashed.

Ishaan's phone pinged--her snap, her "Enough?"

He growled, "Enough? Fuck, you're a goddess--keep going, I'm watching."

Madhuri moaned loud, hand diving between her legs--full nudes sent, pussy spread, a finger inside. "Watch this, partner--I'm yours," she sent via ShyVelvet, collapsing.

The wild break a flood she couldn't dam, his focus hers, the dance hers to lose.

3.11: Spilling Secrets

Madhuri's life split in two, a dizzying game of masks. By night, ShyVelvet thrived--her old phone a portal to Ishaan's world, where she was bold, broken open, sending nudes and flirting with a reckless edge.

By day, she was Madhuri again, the quiet wife, dodging his flirty jabs on her main while her heart raced. Her stomach twisted every time her main pinged--knowing it was him, knowing he toyed with both sides of her, and fighting to keep her secret locked tight.

Ishaan was in his element, juggling her accounts like a maestro. He flirted hard on her main--subtle but pointed--testing her there while devouring her wild surrender on ShyVelvet.

Back at his house, he grinned, staring at Abhi's latest pic--her flustered in a blue blouse at the temple.

He typed with smug charm, knowing it'd crawl under her skin.

"Madhuri, saw you in that blue blouse today--damn, it's like you're teasing me on purpose. That neckline? Too good," he sent to her main.

Madhuri's breath caught, fingers fumbling as she read.

She'd felt eyes at the temple--his?--and guilt stabbed her.

She typed, stern but shaky. "Stop it, please. These messages... they're not right. I'm married and even have a son"

Ishaan chuckled, unfazed. "Not right? Just saying what I see, Madhuri. You're too pretty to hide--bet your husband doesn't notice like I do. And you son? Heh, you don't know shit about him."

Her cheeks burned, anger mixing with thrill and doubt. "Enough. I don't need this. Please stop," she sent, clinging to her mask.

Her alt hummed a different tune. She still reeled from her nude flood, his "I'm watching" echoing in her bones. Here, she was free, bold--him her drug.

"You're trouble, stalker. Keeps me up at night--guess I'm stuck on you," she sent via ShyVelvet.

Ishaan sprawled out, shirt off, a lazy grin spreading. She was all in, and he loved it--time to dig deeper. "Stuck on me? Good. You're my favorite game, Ms. Velvet. Tell me--what's your fantasy? What's rattling around in that head of yours?"

Her breath hitched, his spark lighting dry tinder. Fantasy? she thought. Her life had been a void--gray, hopeless--until him.

"You, stalker. You're my fantasy. Before you, I didn't have any--just emptiness.

Now? It's all you," she sent via her alt, raw and honest, walls gone.

He laughed, loud and sharp--her confession a shot of adrenaline. "All me? Damn, babe, that's sweet. My turn then--want to know my fantasies? They're wilder than you're ready for."

Her curiosity flared, a nervous thrill twisting her gut. Wilder? she wondered. "Try me. What's in your head?" she sent.

His grin turned dark, eyes glinting. "First one's simple--tying a girl up, silk ropes, blindfold, making her guess where I'll touch next. Then it gets darker--taking her somewhere abandoned, a warehouse maybe, bending her over cold steel, no one around to hear her scream my name.

Another? Chasing her through the woods at night, catching her, pinning her down in the dirt--rough, raw, all mine."

Her jaw dropped, a shiver racing down her spine. Shock hit--wild, unhinged--but heat bloomed low. She pictured herself tied, chased, taken--wrong, so wrong, but her breath quickened.

"That's... crazy. Stuff like that doesn't happen in real life. You're just messing with me," she sent, brushing it off, voice trembling in her mind.

He smirked, catching her hitch. "Messing? Nah, I live it, babe. Had a girl once who begged me to choke her--lightly, but still. Another let me mark her up, bites and all. Real life's dirtier than you think--want more?"

"Choking? Bites?" she gasped, horrified--should be--but her thighs pressed together, a secret thrill igniting. Herself under him, marked--dark, dangerous, alive.

"More? You're insane. I... I don't know how you think of this stuff," she sent, half-denying, half-daring.

He grinned ear to ear--her curiosity a green light. "Insane's my specialty. Ever fucked in a car while it's storming? Rain pounding, her screaming over thunder. Or sneaking into a stranger's pool at night, water cold, her hot--leaving her shaking. Your turn, Ms. Velvet--what's your dirty secret?"

Her heart drummed, his fantasies vivid, filthy. Shocked, yes, but excited--too excited. Her sterile life flipped upside down.

"Dirty? I... once touched myself in the bathroom while my husband slept--quiet, quick, thinking of someone else. Never told a soul. You're pulling this out of me, stalker," she sent, shame fading.

His dick twitched--her confession a jolt. "Oh, so you're a married.. I see, Pulling it out? Good--knew you had it in you. That's hot, babe--quiet little wifey, all secret and sinful. Give me another."

She trembled, his praise a drug. "Okay... I watched porn once, late, headphones on--rough stuff. Felt guilty, but I didn't stop. Happy now? You next."

He groaned low, loving her unraveling. "Happy? Fuck, I'm proud. Rough stuff's my vibe--knew we'd match. My secret? Stole a girl's panties once, kept 'em--still got 'em. Your move."

"Panties? Stolen?" she thought, wild, creepy--but her pulse quickened, a dark thrill snaking through.

"Panties? You're a freak, stalker. Are my panties lucky enough to be stolen by you? They're dying to come off," she sent via ShyVelvet, daring him.

"Mine's worse--I stole a guy's shirt once, a stranger's, from a gym locker. Wore it to bed. Felt... alive. What's that say about me?" she added, spilling deeper.

His grin split wide, a low chuckle rumbling.

"A freak? Nah, you're my kind of crazy, babe. That shirt? Bet you looked sexy, all secret and naughty. Says you're wilder than you let on--love it. My turn--I fucked a girl on a public bus once, passengers watching in silence. Her moans echoed off the handles. Beat that."

"Public bus? Insane," she gasped, but her body hummed--crowded, his hands, her in that girl's place.

"Public bus? In front of everyone? You're unhinged. I can't top that--closest I got was fingering myself in a parked car, windows down, hoping someone'd hear. Nearly got caught. You're dragging me down with you," she sent, half-laughing, half-daring.

He groaned, her car confession vivid, filthy. "Hah, that's hot and risky. I nearly got caught in a club bathroom once, door unlocked, people banging to get in. She came so loud they all heard. Your fantasies still just me, or you branching out?"

Her cheeks burned--loud? Unlocked? Herself pinned, exposed--thrilling.

"No, I'm not branching out yet, but wait, did you just say 'she came'? Came where?" she sent, doubt pinching her.

Ishaan burst out laughing--her innocence gold. "You haven't had an orgasm yet, have you?" he sent.

"What's he talking about?" she thought, puzzled. "Orgasm? I... I don't know what you mean. Is that what you meant by 'she came'? You're messing with me, aren't you?" she sent, half-convinced he mocked her, heat creeping up her neck.

"Hah, oh my God, you're too cute. Yeah, that's what I meant--when it feels so good you lose control. You're telling me you've never felt that? Not even with your boring husband?" he sent, smirking.

"Lose control? No... I don't think so. I mean, it's not like that. You're making this up to embarrass me!" she replied, defensive, mind spinning--imagining it with him.

"Embarrass you? Nah, I'm waking you up. Bet you're blushing right now, thinking about it. Tell me--when's the last time you even felt alive like that?" he pushed.

"I'm confused, like what?" she sent, teetering between curiosity and shame.

"Alright, fine, I'll spell it out since you're so adorably clueless. An orgasm's that moment when everything builds up--your whole body's on fire, heart pounding, and then it just explodes. You shake, you scream, you can't even think straight. It's pure pleasure, like nothing else. That's what I gave her in that bathroom--she couldn't hold it in, everyone knew," he sent, grin wicked, planting danger in her mind.

"That... sounds intense. You're serious? It really feels like that? I've never..." she sent, hands trembling, cheeks flaming--torn between disbelief and aching want.

"Dead serious. It's the best thing you'll ever feel--like flying and falling all at once.

Every nerve's alive, and when it hits, you're gone. Your husband never got you there, huh? Poor thing, you've been missing out. Bet I could show you in five minutes flat," he replied, daring her to imagine it.

"Five minutes? I... I don't know what to say. That's crazy. I need to go," she sent, throwing her phone down, heart thudding.

His promise lingered--forbidden, electric. She paced, Ramesh's snores dull and distant. Missing out. It gnawed at her.

Curiosity won. She opened an incognito tab, typing, "What does an orgasm feel like?" Results flooded in--waves of ecstasy, toes curling, a release rewriting your body.

She read, wide-eyed--strangers confirming Ishaan's truth. Ramesh hadn't just been boring--he'd left her stranded, ignorant of this.

One article said, "like a dam breaking, drowning you in bliss." Another, "a secret your body's begging to tell you." Her breath hitched.

She locked the bathroom door, heart pounding with guilt and need.

Explore yourself, take your time, a site urged.

Her fingers wandered--awkward, then a spark. She pressed on, chasing it, body tensing, heat coiling tight.   

When it hit, it was small but real--a shuddering rush stealing her breath, a quiet gasp escaping.

She trembled, stunned, alive.   

"Can't believe there's another world out there waiting. I must get there. Phew, what a night," she whispered, climbing into bed.   

Her handsome Instagram 'friend' filled her dreams--darker thoughts, wilder fantasies brewing, spoiling her mind as sleep took her.

3.12: First Phone Call

The next day, she couldn't stop. Alone in the shower, water hot against her skin, she chased it--his voice in her head, dark and commanding.

Later, under the covers while Ramesh worked, she went again--each time picturing the stalker, his grip growing addictive, consuming.

She was awake now, a hunger she'd never known clawing at her, wondering what else he could unleash. The house quiet, her old phone warmed her hands, buzzing with restless need.

She wanted him--his secrets--but masked it, texting like an innocent untouched by his dark. "Good morning, stalker. Quiet day--nothing wild here. You? Umm... got any more secrets you forgot to tell yesterday?" she sent via her alt.

Ishaan lounged in his room, phone lighting up. He smirked--she played sweet, but he smelled her need, her nudge back to their filth.

He typed, then paused--a bolder spark hit. He hit call instead, voice low and ready. Madhuri's phone vibrated--DevilzMask flashing.

Her stomach dropped, a yelp escaping as she fumbled, cutting it dead. "A call? Please don't do this..." she gasped, panic flaring.

She grabbed both phones, darting to the old bookstore room--far from Abhi's ears. She cracked the door, locked it, and sank onto the bed in a red-yellow chudidhar, cross-legged, heart racing.

It rang again, insistent. She hesitated, breath shallow, then lifted it to her ear, voice a whisper. "H-hello? Why'd you call?"

Ishaan's chuckle was smooth, velvet in her ear. He knew that voice--Madhuri's, the same sweet lilt from Abhi's house.

"Hey, velvet. Texting's slow--wanted to hear you. You sound nervous--what's up?"

She clutched the phone, his voice a live wire. She was transparent--shaky, hitched--and it terrified her.

"N-nervous? No, just... surprised. I don't... don't do calls. What do you want?" she stammered, clinging to her act.

He grinned, catching every tremble. "What do I want? You were texting me just before. Got more secrets? Yes, I do. Yesterday was wild--left you hanging, huh? What'd you think?"

Her cheeks burned, his tease dragging her back to their flood. Her thighs pressed together, a moan catching she couldn't stifle. "I-I don't know... it was wild. You're crazy, mister, I didn't expect... that," she cracked, sounds slipping--gasps, stutters.

He pushed, voice husky. "Crazy? You liked it, though--can hear it in you. That shaky little voice? You're not hiding shit, Mrs. Velvet. Tell me--what'd it do to you, hearing me fuck her like that?"

Her face blazed, his words pinning her. Moans crept in--soft, needy--she couldn't control them. "It... it messed with me, okay? Made me... feel things. You're too much--I can't even talk right," she admitted, giving in, thinking her alt was safe.

He groaned low, her surrender sweet--knowing she was Madhuri made it richer. "Too much? Nah, you're loving it--listen to you, moaning like that. Made you feel things? Bet you're wet just hearing me now. Spill--what's it doing to you?"

She whimpered, his tone undoing her. Her hand drifted down, instinctive--she couldn't lie, not with him hearing it all. "It's... making me crazy, mister. Wet? God, yes--I can't stop it. You're in my head, all the time now. What else you got?" she quaked, shame gone, need wild.

He dove back, dark and bold. "In your head? Good--I'll stay there. You want more? How about this--I fucked a girl in an alley once, rain pouring, her skirt hiked up, hands against the wall. She begged me to go harder--screamed my name 'til her voice broke. Do you want that, Mrs. Velvet?"

Her moan was loud, unfiltered--rain, wall, him searing her. Her fingers pressed harder, pleasure spiking. "Yes--God, yes--I want it. You're ruining me, mister. I... I need that, need you," she gasped, lost, transparent.

Her sounds--pants, moans--filled the line, addicted, craving all he had. He grinned, feral--shy, married Madhuri cracking for him, pure power. "Need me? Fuck, you've got me, babe. Ruining you's my pleasure--keep moaning, let me hear you fall apart. We're just starting," he growled.

She pressed the phone hard, lost control--moans spilling, body trembling. "That alley thing--it's in me now. Tell me more. I need it, please," she begged, the good wife drowned by hunger.

"My next one's darker--tying her up, gagging her, fucking her slow on a rooftop while the city sleeps below. Made her beg through the cloth. What's your dirtiest thought now--don't hold back," he said, voice a command.

Her breath stopped--bound, helpless.

She was shocked, dripping. "Gagging? God--you're ruining me. I've thought... being taken somewhere public, bent over, him not stopping even if someone walks by. Rough, fast--me screaming, not caring. It's you.. I see doing it," she spilled, trembling.

He shifted, hard as steel--public? Screaming? His match, raw and dark. "Fuck, Mrs. Velvet--you're perfect. Me doing it? I'd make it real--bend you over a park bench, midnight, rip your panties off, fuck you 'til you're hoarse. No one'd stop me.

Another secret--I've jerked off in a stranger's backyard, watching their lights, hoping they'd see. Your turn," he fired back.

Her moan slipped, loud--rough hands, torn fabric, her voice breaking. "Park bench? I'd let you. Secret--I've rubbed myself on a pillow, pretending it was... someone, biting it to stay quiet. You're killing me, mister," she confessed, his fully.

"Killing you? You're resurrecting me, babe. I'll make sure you need no pillows no more! I once stole into a motel room, a girl waiting, didn't know me. Fucked her against the headboard, her boyfriend's stuff all around, left before he came back.

She begged me to stay--loved the risk. You want that rush, baby girl?" he taunted.

Her head spun--stolen room, boyfriend's stuff--filthy, dangerous. She was there, taken, reckless. Her moan became a scream, pleasure crashing as she tipped--fingers soaked. "Yes--rush, I want it. Imagining you... sneaking in, taking me--oh God, I'm close... um, nothing, pls--don't stop. You're... ruining me," she choked, wild, unfiltered.

His grin was wicked--her moans a symphony he'd mastered. She was breaking, his creation--and he was hard, reveling.

"Wait--stop. Don't come yet, Mrs. Velvet. Hold it--right there, on the edge. You deserve better than your fingers--a real orgasm, from me. Teeter for me, babe--feel it," he cut in, sharp, commanding.

Her moan turned to a whimper--"Stop?" she thought, hand faltering, thighs clenching. The peak was there, tantalizing--but he pulled her back. "No--please, stalker--I can't--I'm... it's right there! Don't do this--oh fuck, I need it!" she sobbed, shaking, desperate.

His laugh was low, cruel--her desperation his power. "You'll wait, babe--deserve the real thing, not some quick solo. Stay there, feel that ache--I'll give it to you, but not yet. You're mine," he said, firm, final.

He cut the call--click--leaving her hanging, smirk lingering as the line died.

The silence slapped her. She froze--fingers still, body pulsing, so close but denied.

A whine broke free, loud in the empty room, chest heaving.

She teetered--aching, his "a real orgasm, from me" echoing in her skull. She collapsed back, trembling, wet, unfulfilled--the hunger sharper, unbearable.

3.13: Sleeping Mom

The night pressed down on Abhi like a heavy weight, the silence of the house amplifying the buzz of his phone on the bed. It was Ishaan again.

Abhi's stomach twisted as he glanced at the screen, knowing the bully wouldn't let up. Those creepshots of Madhuri--snaps Abhi had foolishly sent months ago--were still Ishaan's leverage, a constant threat hanging over him.

The guilt gnawed at him, but refusing Ishaan always felt riskier than giving in.

The message blinked on his screen from Ishaan: "Got a dare for you tonight. Don't ask questions. Just do it."

Abhi's fingers hovered over the keyboard, his chest tight. He didn't want to play this game, but what choice did he have?

"Okay.." he replied hesitantly.

"Go near your mom's room," Ishaan instructed

Abhi exhaled shakily, his bare feet cold against the tiled floor as he crept down the hallway. The faint hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the house. His parents' bedroom door loomed ahead, a sliver of moonlight spilling through the gap where it stood slightly ajar.

"Is it open or locked?" Ishaan asked,

"Open," Abhi replied

"Peek through and tell me what you see." Ishaan ordered.

Abhi pressed himself against the wall, his breath shallow as he leaned forward to look inside. The room was dim, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Madhuri lay on the bed, her form partially covered by a thin blanket, her breathing slow and steady.

"She's sleeping on the bed. Dad isn't here yet." he sent to Ishaan

Ishaan's reply came buzzing "Good. I'm gonna video call you. Pick it up and use Bluetooth earphones to hear me. Follow my instructions and show me everything. Stay silent."

Abhi's heart thudded as he slipped his earphones in, his hands trembling while he waited for the call.

The screen lit up with Ishaan's name, and he answered, the bully's face appearing in a small window at the corner. Ishaan's voice came through the earphones, low and commanding.

Ishaan: "Go inside the bedroom. Keep the camera on her."

Abhi hesitated, the darkness of the room seeming to swallow him as he pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The faint creak of the hinges made him freeze, but Madhuri didn't stir.

He held the phone up, the camera capturing the scene as he stepped closer, his own shadow flickering across the bed.

Ishaan: "Show me how she's sleeping."

Abhi angled the phone to frame Madhuri more clearly. She lay straight, her hands resting on her stomach, the thin blanket clinging to her form.

She was dressed in a chudidhar with tight leggings, the fabric hugging her curves even under the blanket.

Ishaan: "Increase the AC temperature slightly."

Abhi's free hand hovered over the remote on the nightstand. He felt a pang of guilt as he pressed the button, the soft beep of the unit making him wince.

The temperature ticked up a few degrees, and within moments, Madhuri shifted slightly. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and with a small murmur, she pushed the blanket off her body, letting it pool around her waist.

The moonlight caught the outline of her body through the tight fabric, and Abhi's breath hitched.

Ishaan: "Nice. Increase the AC temperature even more."

Abhi hesitated but pressed the button again, the room growing warmer. Madhuri stirred once more, her body reacting to the heat.

She let out a soft sigh, her hands stretching above her head as if seeking relief, her chest pushing upward in the process. The tight chudidhar top clung to her skin, and the leggings highlighted her lower body even more.

Abhi's hand shook as he kept the camera steady, a mix of fear and something else stirring in his chest.

Ishaan: "Get close to her."

Abhi's legs felt like lead as he stepped nearer, the camera capturing Madhuri's sleeping form up close.

He could see the faint flush on her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly with each breath.

He felt like he was crossing a line he could never uncross, and Ishaan's silent gaze through the screen made it all the more real.

Ishaan: "Now, smell her armpits."

The command made Abhi's stomach lurch, but Ishaan's tone left no room for refusal. He leaned in, his face inches from her outstretched arm, the camera still angled to show the scene.

The scent was faint--floral, mixed with the musk of her earlier arousal from the night's events. It wasn't unpleasant, and that realization sent a shiver down his spine. He pulled back quickly, his face burning.

Ishaan: "Move your hand from her neck to her toes without touching her. Keep it slow, let me see."

Abhi's free hand trembled as he hovered it just above Madhuri's skin, starting at her neck.

His fingers traced the air above her collarbone, then down toward her chest. As his hand hovered near her breasts, the tight chudidhar top making their shape unmistakable, Ishaan's voice cut through.

Ishaan: "Stop. Look at that, man. Your hand's so close to her perky nipples. Bet they'd get hard as fuck if you just brushed 'em. You wanna see that, don't you?"

Abhi's breath caught in his throat, his hand frozen in place. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared down at Madhuri's sleeping form, the outline of her nipples faintly visible through the fabric.

A rush of heat surged through him, uncontrollable and wild, but he clenched his fingers tight, refusing to let them touch her. His heart pounded as he resumed moving his hand, slower now, trying to ignore Ishaan's words.

Ishaan: "Keep going."

Abhi's hand continued its descent, hovering over her stomach, then reaching her waist. The tight leggings clung to her like a second skin, outlining every curve.

Ishaan: "Stop. Pull up her chudidhar top a bit. I wanna see that cameltoe and her ass shape better."

Abhi's hand shook violently as he hesitated, then carefully pinched the hem of the chudidhar top with his free hand, lifting it just enough to expose more of her midriff and the tight leggings below.

The fabric of the leggings stretched over her lower body, revealing the clear outline of her panties beneath and the faint shape of her cameltoe.

Abhi's face burned, sweat dripping down his temples as he angled the camera for Ishaan to see, his own eyes unable to look away.

Ishaan: "Damn, look at that. You're sweating buckets, huh? Can't blame you."

Abhi swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he let the chudidhar top fall back slightly, but it stayed high enough to keep her lower body exposed.

He resumed moving his hand downward, toward her pussy, the tight leggings making the outline even more pronounced.

Ishaan: "Stop. Imagine your fingers on those pussy lips, man. Bet you'd make her so wet just brushing 'em. You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

Abhi's entire body tensed, his hand hovering just above her. Ishaan's words sent another wave of heat through him, his mind spinning with thoughts he didn't want to acknowledge.

He bit his lip hard, forcing his hand to stay steady, not daring to touch her even as his fingers twitched with the temptation. Sweat poured down his face now, his shirt clinging to his back.

Ishaan: "Keep going."

Abhi's hand moved further down, past her thighs, along her legs, until it reached her toes. Then Ishaan spoke again.

Ishaan: "Good. Now tickle her slightly on her armpits."

Abhi gulped, his fingers hovering over her exposed underarm. He barely touched her, just a feather-light graze, but it was enough.

Madhuri let out a soft moan, the sound sending a jolt through Abhi's body. She shifted, turning onto her side, her breathing evening out as she settled back into sleep.

The camera caught every detail--the way her ass looked in the tight leggings now facing him--and Abhi's pulse raced.

Ishaan: "Now move your hand all over her back, top to bottom. Same deal, don't touch her."

Abhi's hand trembled as he started at the top of her back, moving down her spine. As he reached her lower back, nearing her ass, Ishaan's voice came through again, sharper this time.

Ishaan: "Stop. Move your finger up her butt crack, like swiping a card, but don't touch her. Bet you're dying to feel that, huh?"

Abhi's face flushed crimson, his hand hovering just above the curve of her ass, the tight leggings outlining every detail.

Ishaan's teasing hit harder this time, the words sinking into Abhi's mind as he slowly moved his finger along the air above her, mimicking the motion Ishaan described.

The temptation was maddening, and the secret excitement bubbling inside him made his head spin. He kept the camera steady, showing Ishaan everything, his own breathing ragged now.

Ishaan: "Smell her ass. Tell me how it smells."

Abhi froze, the command pushing him to a new edge of discomfort. But Ishaan's expectant silence urged him on.

Reluctantly, he leaned down, his face close to her lower back, the camera angled awkwardly to show his position. The scent was intoxicating--her earlier arousal still lingered, mixing with the faint fragrance of her body wash.

"She smells.. Good," he whispered, his voice barely audible through the earphones, betraying the thrill he felt despite himself.

Ishaan laughing loudly, "Good? Hahaha.. That's enough for the night Kid. You're done.."

"Phew, can I please go back to my room?", Abhi whispered as a sigh of relief

"Yeah, get outta there, motherfucker!" Ishaan shouted.

Abhi slipped out of the room, his body buzzing with adrenaline as he returned to his own bed.

He ended the call, pulling the earphones out with shaking hands. Collapsing onto his mattress, his mind reeled from what he'd just done.

His shirt was soaked with sweat, his skin clammy. The guilt was there, gnawing at him, but beneath it was something darker--something that excited him in a way he couldn't fully grasp.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, Abhi's thoughts drifted back to the way Madhuri had looked in the tight chudidhar and leggings, the outline of her panties, the sounds she'd made, the scent of her skin.

And then there was Ishaan--the way he'd orchestrated it all, watching every moment through the camera, teasing Abhi into this twisted game.

A part of him hated Ishaan for it, but another part... another part wanted to see what the bully would do next. He imagined Ishaan taking charge, crossing lines Abhi didn't dare to, while he watched from the shadows.

The thought made his chest tighten, a confusing mix of shame and desire settling deep in his gut.

That night, Abhi's feelings toward his mother took a turn he couldn't undo. The seed Ishaan had planted was starting to grow, and Abhi wasn't sure he wanted to stop it.

3.14: The Video's Gaze

Sunday night passed with a humid, electric charge--Madhuri's dreams tangled with DevilzMask's echoes. His "Wait for me" from the call a command she'd obeyed, teetering without release, aching through restless sleep.

Monday hit hard. She sat in the conference room, a sea of suits and charts, her pencil skirt hugging her thighs, blouse crisp.

The ache from last night pulsed--his denial a constant throb.

Her alt phone buzzed silent against her hip--DevilzMask, video call. Sparks jolted through her, shock and heat colliding.

"A video call? Now?" she gasped, cutting it fast, breath shallow.

Fingers trembling, she typed under the table, sneaking glances at her droning colleagues.

"I'm in a meeting--please, not now," she sent via ShyVelvet.

Ishaan sprawled at home, shirtless, phone in hand, smirking. Her rejection stung, but her fear--her secrecy--fueled him.

"I want to see you--now, Mrs. Velvet. Don't care where you are. Give me something--make it quick," he sent, voice a growl in his head, commanding.

Her pulse raced, his order a whip. She shifted her chair, pretending to adjust her notes, hand slipping under the table. Her pencil skirt lifted just enough--maroon panties peeking, damp from thoughts of him.

She angled her phone, snapped it--legs parted slightly, the wet spot glaring--and sent it, heart slamming. Skirt down fast, cheeks burning, she tried to focus on the meeting.

Ishaan opened it, a low groan escaping.

Her legs, the lace, that wetness--"Fuck. She's soaked--in a damn meeting," he whispered.

His dick twitched, hard instantly, jeans unzipping.

He propped his phone, aiming below his waist, stroking slow over her pic--veins bulging, precum glistening. He recorded--hand moving, rough breaths--then sent it.

"Waiting for your video call tonight, babe--don't worry, you don't have to show your face, just like me. But look what you're doing to me," he added, smug.

Madhuri's phone buzzed. She stole a glance--his video hit her: his hand, his cock, stroking to her pic. Her thighs clenched, heat flooding, thoughts spiraling.

Numbers, charts, her boss's voice--useless. He was in her head, unraveling her through the meeting's end.

That night, after dinner, she locked her bedroom door--Ramesh asleep next room, oblivious. She was wired, the day's tension coiled tight.

A purple scarf tied over her face--covering all but her eyes--her breath shaky as she adjusted it, waiting, craving. Her alt buzzed--DevilzMask, video call. Her heart leaped.

She answered, finger over the camera, hesitant. His screen lit up--neck down, shirtless, muscles tense. "Hey, partner--damn, you've got me all worked up. Let's see you--been waiting all day," his rough voice broke the silence, flirty, warm, edged with hunger.

She exhaled, his tone melting her fear. She slid her finger off, tilting the phone--scarf in place, one hand over her boobs, eyes wide above the fabric. "I... I'm here. Like this--okay? Don't laugh--I'm nervous," she quivered, a mess of arousal and dread.

His "partner" sparked a thrill--she was still Madhuri, hiding, but ShyVelvet was taking over. Ishaan chuckled low, seeing the scarf, her hand, her nervous glint.

He knew it was Madhuri--her body, her secrets--and it was fucking perfect. He shifted, camera lower--bare chest, abs, boxer waistband.

"Nervous? You look hot, babe--scarf and all. No laughing here--just hard as hell for you. Move that hand a little--gimme a peek," he urged.

Her breath hitched--his compliment eased her, but his request jolted. She hesitated, then lowered her hand--the tops of her breasts peeked, nipples barely hidden.

"Like... this? Don't push too much--I'm still freaking out," she whispered, eyes darting, arousal overtaking fear.

His groan echoed, her peek tightening his grip. She was teasing, shy, giving in--he had her, live. He shifted, camera catching his hand slipping into his boxers.

"Fuck, hottie--just like that. I'm stroking to you--see this? Tell me what you're thinking," he rasped, tilting to show his hand moving, slow, deliberate, breath heavy.

Her eyes widened, a soft moan slipping as she watched--his hand, his intent, all for her. Her thighs clenched, last night's ache roaring back.

"Thinking... God, I'm thinking I want that--want you. You're... too much, stalker. I'm wet--been wet all day since that video," she whispered, loud, a whimper breaking free.

Her free hand drifted down, teasing herself--she was transparent, his pull undeniable. "Good--keep it that way. Show me more, babe. You owe me after that pic," he growled, unraveling her.

Her heart slammed. She shifted, angling lower--past the scarf, past her chest, showing her stomach, the tops of her thighs, trembling fingers brushing between them.

"Like... this?" she moaned softly, his command guiding her, lost piece by piece.

Ishaan's grin sharpened--her scarf a flimsy mask, her body bared below it. He saw through her, hard and controlling, savoring every second.

"Fuck, yeah--like that. You're killing me, woman. Touch yourself--let me see you shake," he urged, hand moving faster, camera catching every stroke.

Her moan hitched, his words a spark. She hesitated, then let her fingers slide--slowly circling her clit, thighs trembling, the scarf slipping slightly as she arched.

"Oh... God, stalker--I'm... shaking already," she gasped, eyes fluttering above the fabric.

He groaned, her obedience driving him wild. "That's it--good girl. Faster, babe--show me how bad you need it," he commanded, voice rough, stroking in sync.

She obeyed, fingers quickening--wet sounds faint but real, her breath ragged. "I... need it--need you," she whimpered, scarf clinging, body rocking, teetering again.

His smirk grew--he'd denied her last night, and now she was live, breaking for him.

"You're close, huh? Don't stop--tell me how it feels, Mrs. Velvet," he pushed, camera steady on his hand, precum slick on his fingers.

"It's... intense--burning--I can't... oh fuck," she choked, moans spilling, her hand frantic now. The scarf shifted, almost falling, her eyes wild with need.

He saw it--her edge, her mask slipping. "Hold it there--don't come yet. Teeter for me again, babe--I wanna hear you beg," he ordered, voice a blade, slowing his own hand to torment her.

Her whine was desperate, body tensing. "No--please, stalker--I can't--I'm... so close! Don't make me wait again," she sobbed, fingers faltering, thighs quaking.

He laughed, low and cruel. "You can--you will. Beg me, slut--tell me how bad you want it," he taunted, camera locked on his slow strokes, teasing her.

"Please--God, please--I need it so bad--I'll do anything," she cried, voice breaking, scarf slipping lower, desperation raw.

His dick pulsed--her pleas were gold. "Anything? Fuck, you're mine. Okay--let go now, babe. Come for me--scream it," he growled, speeding up, ready to match her.

She shattered--moans erupting, loud and unhinged, body convulsing as the wave hit. "Oh--fuck--yes!" she screamed, scarf falling to her neck, eyes rolling back, lost in it.

Ishaan groaned hard, her scream tipping him--hot spurts hitting his chest as he came, camera shaking. "Fuck, Mrs. Velvet--that's it," he rasped, breathless, triumphant.

She collapsed, panting, scarf tangled, phone dropping to her lap--exposed, spent, his. "I... I did it--for you," she whispered, voice wrecked, the ache finally gone.

He smirked, wiping himself, victorious. "Good girl--you're perfect. We're not done, partner--next time, I'm taking you for real," he promised, cutting the call--click--leaving her reeling, owned, craving more.

3.15: The Slave's Edge

Ishaan stared at Madhuri's smooth belly folds on the screen--and grinned, dark and feral, yanking his boxers down. His 8-inch cock sprang free, hard and glistening in the dim light.

"Hey, goddess. This is for you," he purred to ShyVelvet, voice low, rough--a velvet lash. He aimed the camera, stroking slow, deliberate, eyes locked on her masked form.

Madhuri's screen flickered--him, naked, moving--and she gasped, "Oh... God," her voice cracking. The scarf slipped but held, her identity veiled. "You're... h-huge," she breathed, legs parting, hand hovering near her wet folds.

"Show me," he growled, strokes steady, devouring her--breasts, thighs, the shadow of her bush. "Touch that pussy--let me see."

She moaned soft, fingers sliding down, brushing her clit--slow, tentative, breath hitching. "Like... this?" she whispered, circling, hips bucking, his gaze a fire on her skin.

"Fuck, yes," he rasped, pumping faster. "Spread it--show me how wet."

She obeyed, parting her lips--fingers slick, glistening--a slave to his command.

The call stretched--slow, raw--her moans sharp, his grunts deep, their bodies synced in a digital dance. "You're perfect," he groaned, precum beading, voice a whip. "Finger it--deep, for me."

She plunged two fingers in, crying out, "Yes... please," her rhythm matching his, scarf slipping lower, lips parted, panting.

"I... I need it," she whimpered, pussy clenching, wildness unleashed, his gaze her cage.

"Need what?" he teased, slowing his strokes, dragging it out. "Tell me, goddess."

"I need... you," she sobbed, fingers thrusting, wet sounds filling the call, body arching, teetering.

He grinned, unseen, voice dark. "Me? Keep going--show me how bad."

She did--three fingers now, stretching her, moans loud, desperate, her first orgasm a whisper away, held by his will.

"Please... let me," she begged, hips grinding, the video mirroring her fall, his cock her god, the dance a slow, delicious torment.

Madhuri knelt on her bed, nude, scarf loose over her face, body trembling as she fingered herself for him.

Her alt phone propped against a pillow, his thick cock filled the screen--slick with precum, stroked slow, deliberate, his grunts syncing with her moans.

She'd begged, pussy clenching around three fingers, her first orgasm so close she could taste it--a wave she'd never ridden. His voice held her there, a slave on the brink.

"Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, strokes teasing, eyes devouring her masked form. "Faster--fuck yourself for me."

She whimpered, obeying--fingers plunging deep, wet and loud, hips bucking. "Yes... like that," she gasped, scarf slipping, lips bared, surrender total. "I... I can't stop, ahh..." she moaned, thighs shaking, body a live wire.

He chuckled, dark, slow. "Good--don't. Imagine this cock, stretching you, filling you."

"Oh... please," she cried, fingers mimicking him, pussy soaking the sheet, mind lost to his filth. "It's... too much," she sobbed, breasts bouncing, nipples hard, climax coiling--yet he held her back, voice a leash.

"Too much? You're mine--beg for it, goddess," he taunted.

"Please... I need to... come," she pleaded, voice breaking, fingers relentless, body arching, offering itself. "I'll... do anything," she gasped, tears wetting the scarf, wildness flooding every dam.

He groaned, strokes speeding, precum dripping. "Anything? Fuck--spread wider, show me that hole."

She did--legs splayed, fingers pulling her lips apart, pussy glistening, raw, a gift for his eyes. "Like... this?" she whimpered, moans sharp, edge razor-thin, his command her lifeline.

"Perfect," he rasped, voice thick, cock pulsing. "Rub that clit--slow, tease it for me."

She shifted, circling her clit--slow, torturous--hips jerking, moans a symphony.

"Oh... God... please," she sobbed, body his, orgasm a breath away, held by his will.

"I'm... so close," she choked, fingers trembling, pussy clenching, pressure unbearable.

"Close? Wait--let me see you shake first," he growled, low.

She shook--hard, uncontrollable--moans loud, body a slave's dance, the video mirroring her ruin, his cock her master.

Downstairs, Abhi ripped off his headphones, her sounds seeping through the floor--sharp, desperate. Ishaan's dare last night burned in his skull.

He texted fast, "She's moaning loud. Losing it all, Ishaan--are you texting her? Or what?"

Ishaan smiled mid-call, imagining Abhi's shock. "Hey cuckson, go peek in her room and thank me later," he replied, dark glee threading his words.

Abhi stood, anger flaring, teeth gritted, half-erect bulge straining. "Did he just say I'm a c-cu..." he gasped, shaking his head, guilt crashing into awe.

He crept upstairs--her door locked, but her moans hit clear. "Please... ummm... ahh..." His dick hardened, awe drowning guilt, her pull a chain tightening with every sound.

Madhuri teetered, fingers a blur, pussy a vice--her first orgasm loomed, a wave she'd chased all night, his "Wait" a cruel edge she couldn't defy.

"Fuck, you're killing me, goddess--beg harder," he growled, slowing his strokes, tormenting her.

"Please--please, stalker--I can't--I need it now!" she sobbed, voice wrecked, scarf dangling, body quaking, offering everything.

He grinned, feral--her desperation his fuel. "Now? Earn it--scream my name, Mrs. Velvet," he commanded, pumping faster, precum slick.

"Stranger--please--fuck!" she screamed, loud, unhinged, the wave crashing--her first orgasm ripping through, body convulsing, pussy gushing, soaking her hand, the bed.

He groaned hard, her scream tipping him--hot spurts hitting his chest as he came, camera shaking. "Fuck--yes, goddess--that's it," he rasped, breathless, victorious.

She collapsed, panting, scarf tangled at her neck, phone slipping--spent, his. "I... I came--for you," she whispered, voice raw, the ache finally shattered.

"Good girl--fucking perfect. You're mine now, goddess--next time, it's my cock, not your fingers," he promised, voice dark, cutting the call--click--leaving her wrecked, craving more.

Abhi sank against the wall outside, dick throbbing, her scream echoing in his skull--guilt, awe, and something darker twisting tight.

3.16: The Reveal's Ruin

The Monday night video call burned into its final act. Madhuri's bedroom was thick with heat and sin--her nude body knelt on the bed, slick with sweat, the purple scarf loose over her mouth, masking her face but baring her soul.

Her wildness was his, a slave's dance stretched to breaking. "Fuck, you're shaking," DevilzMask rasped, voice low, commanding--a velvet whip through the call.

His strokes slowed, teasing, precum dripping as he watched--her breasts bouncing, nipples dark and hard, thighs trembling, pussy spread wide, raw for his gaze.

"Please... I can't anymore... I need it," she sobbed to ShyVelvet, fingers plunging shamelessly, wet sounds loud, hips grinding, body begging.

"Need it?" he growled, thick with lust. "Rub that clit--slow, let me hear you break."

She obeyed--thumb circling her clit, torturous, fingers stretching her inside, moans jagged.

"Oh... God... please," she gasped, scarf slipping lower, lips parted, face a shadow of surrender.

"I'm... so close," she whimpered, thighs quaking, her first orgasm cresting--a wave she'd never touched, chased through his pic, his voice, his gaze.

"Close?" he teased, strokes speeding, breath ragged. "Beg me, goddess--tell me how bad."

"I'll... do anything... please, master, please... let me come," she pleaded, tears soaking the scarf, three fingers relentless, thumb a blur.

"Anything?" he groaned, cock pulsing, voice dark, slow--a blade poised. "You're mine--spread wider, fuck yourself harder."

She did--legs splayed, fingers slamming in, pussy soaking the sheet, moans sharp, raw.

"Yes... yes, I'm all yours... please... ahhhhh," she cried, body his, orgasm coiling tight, so near she could taste it.

"I'm... I'm there," she sobbed, voice high, breaking--pussy clenching, clit throbbing, wave cresting, body trembling, a slave to his command.

"There? Alright," he purred, strokes fast, voice dipping, deliberate--the trap set.

"Come for me, Mrs. Madhuri--let me hear you scream."

Her world froze--"Madhuri"--a lightning bolt piercing the haze. Her orgasm crashed through as her mind reeled. "What... what did you--" she gasped, heart slamming, terror drowning pleasure.

"Yes, you heard it right, my dear Madhuri. Go ahead--did I tell you to stop?"

"Oh... God! Y-You... know me?" she choked, scarf falling off her chin, face bare--eyes wide, staring at his cock, his hand.

Ishaan grinned, unseen, strokes slowing, voice a dark laugh. "Know? I've known all along, Madhuri--from the first chat, your alt, your pics. You're mine."

Her breath stopped--orgasm's aftershocks fading into shock, body trembling with humiliation, raw and searing.

"No... no, you can't," she stammered, hands clutching the sheet, covering herself, wildness collapsing into shame.

"How... how did you do this?" she whispered, tears streaking, pussy still wet, body betrayed, mind blindsided.

"Haha... you slutty, sexy woman! Just wanted to play with you since you tried to fool me," he said, loud, cruel, victorious. "Every moan, every snap--you gave it to me, Madhuri. Screamed for me just now--it's beautiful, haha..."

She sobbed, loud, hands shaking, phone slipping. "You... bastard," she choked, pride shattered--her first orgasm a gift he'd stolen, her ruin his trophy.

"Who... are you? Tell me!" she demanded, voice wrecked, body curling in, video still live--his cock mocking her, embarrassment a knife twisting deep.

"I'm your hardcore fan, your stalker, Madhuri--and you're mine forever now," he chuckled, low.

The call cut--black screen, silence. Madhuri collapsed, sobbing, body shaking, pussy pulsing, mind a chaos of shock and shame.

"Who in the hell are you?" she cried, voice lost in the dark, regretting her alt--a trap she'd walked into blind.

Across town, Ishaan groaned, cumming hard on her pic--her scream his triumph, her ruin his crown. The reveal, timed to her peak, was a bomb he'd detonated perfectly, her dance his to end.

Near her, Abhi yanked off his headphones--her scream pierced the house, raw, shattering. He texted fast, "She screamed. Loud. Crying and freaking out bad. The room's locked--what's going on?? Please tell me!"

Ishaan replied, "I think she's broken. Give her some time and space. You're gonna witness more tomorrow. Now, get your ass to bed."

Abhi sank against his door, her cry echoing--shock, pleasure, ruin. His dick throbbed, awe and dread tangling, his pull a chain forged in her fall.

What's gonna shatter next? Drop your screams below.

Next chapter soon if you're still reeling!