WhisperLine: Let him Watch Pt. 01

Disclaimer : All characters in this story are 18 years or older.

This story is meant for those who love slow-burn eroticism.

It doesn't haste, stays there till the breath turns into a moan.

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Story so far (recap)

Sonali Bedi, the director of WhisperLine launched an app, a female version of their already popular intimacy app meant for males. This app allows females to explore their hidden desires and fantasies in complete anonymity.

This app connects them with trained males companion who listen carefully, adapt their fantasies, and arouse them through voice, emotions and conversation tailored to their specific needs.

As a pilot project, she hired Sumit Verma, a soft-spoken content writer who had written blog regarding female fantasies.

During his allocated hours, he was supposed to talk to females from various walk of life. Based on his interactions with them, the company would use to improve and build the app so that it better caters their emotional and sexual needs.

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Prologue

Some fantasies never truly fade.

They wait--underneath sarees, under motherhood, and under the burden of being nice.

WhisperLine was made for that wait- not to touch women with hands, but with voice.

The men at WhisperLine step into their fantasies as if they were crafted from their imagination.

Wives. widows. daughters-in-law, from cities, towns and distant locations- many of them find their ways to WhisperLine.

Each woman comes with a fresh craving and a new confession.

The secrets buried in silence, now have a new voice- delicate, anonymous, and deeply personal.

But voice is not heard in bedrooms sometimes, but through a line where desire finally has the courage to speak.

Meena Rathore, 29, a marketing executive from Udaipur, has a strange rise of heat whenever she imagines herself being chained, paraded nude in front of lustful eyes.

She very often fantasies herself being auctioned in a slave market,- a plaything- with her blouse torn- eyes lowered- while the prospective buyers inspecting her as if they are buying a livestock.

Neha Sharma, 34, a highly respected Sanskrit teacher from Kanpur, known for her grace, her command of ancient texts and her calm presence. But when alone, she listened to unpolished voices--rough, vulgar, primal. Words that no shloka would dare carry. And somehow, those crude syllables stirred her more than any sacred chant ever could.

Meera Patel, 41, a divorced architect from Ahmedabad, left the curtains in her hotel room wide open deliberately. She starts changing her dress slowly and imagining that someone across building may catch glimpse of her body

Kavita Shinde, 36, a banker from Pune, once riding in crowded bus. A stranger hand brushing below where it shouldn't, too close and too deliberate. Her husband was right behind her, watching and not objecting anything. The silence was intriguing. Does it mean his permission or his hidden fantasy?

38-year-old Harpreet Kaur from Amritsar, one afternoon came into the hallway, towel still on her wet skin from her shower, and saw her father-in-law standing there, shocked.

No one said anything. Nothing significant happened. But while on bed that night, it played over and over in her mind. Fantasising about what his hands might have done if he had gotten closer.

Women like these come to WhisperLine one by one.

Different backgrounds. Different moods. Different needs.

Each one shaped by the world she lives in but they all long for the same thing--something they've never dared say aloud.

It begins with Sunaina. First whisper belongs to her.

Sunaina, 34, a housewife from Lucknow. Her husband has given her every comfort--except his time.

She misses being touched with urgency.

She misses the nights when her pleasure wasn't postponed by meetings or forgotten between phone calls.

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WhisperLine: Sunaina's first Call.

"Hello".

The voice in Sumit's headset sounded smooth and sweet, like someone uncertain if she was knocking at the right door but secretly hoping it opens.

He looked at the time. It was 7:14 PM.

"Welcome to WhisperLine," he whispered, dropping his voice just enough to make it sound warm and soft.

There was no answer-only her sound of breathing. He paused, then added reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Madam- your number is hidden, completely private. It won't show on your bank account. Your husband or kids can't trace-not even I can trace."

"Oh God... I was really worried about that," she said with shaking voice.

"First time?" Sumit asked, beaming into the mic.

"Is it really that obvious?" she said, her voice with shyness.

"You're not here by chance. Women don't end up in WhisperLine without a reason."

She laughed again, this time, longer. He let the stillness linger a little longer before speaking in a casual yet enticing way:

"So, what should I call you?"

Silence

Then her voice returned, softer and lower, as if she was letting herself enjoy the feeling."

"Sunaina."

"Mmm... Sunaina", he spoke it softly, enjoying it.

"Nice name for someone this shy." She let out a soft laugh, as if she were surprised by herself.

"So..." he began, his voice dropping a little as if he were playing,

"Where is this beautiful voice calling from?"

She took her time. Just a little bit longer than necessary.

"Lucknow,"

She let the name hang there. He smiled quietly and knowingly.

Lucknow... off course your voice is carrying that softness."

His voice was soft and seductive, like silk.

"So, what made a married woman from Lucknow call WhisperLine at this weeknight?"

She exhaled- part sigh, part smile. "Curiosity-boredom."

"The women like you-happily married-having a caring husband-good life do come here. Because... there is an ache, a part which no one else sees."

A breath caught at her end.

"God," she said quietly. "You make it sound so bad. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or ashamed."

He answered in a calm voice,

"If that is bad... I am afraid I am for bad women."

There was a pause.

"You'd be surprised how often I hear this. It's not about loyalty or love. Sometimes it's about something else. Something primal. A hunger that doesn't fit in with normal life."

Another pause.

"So... tell me," she began, her breath slowing down a little, "Are most of the women you meet on this app like me? Married and... curious? "

Sumit's heart was beating fast. He let the silence last longer than it needed to.

" Definitely, you're not the only one, Sunaina... "

He let his voice drop lower, soft and seductive.

"Late at night, when the world goes quiet- husbands snoring- or too lazy to touch you- the bed feels so wide. Their fingers reach to phone and woman like you... ends up here, whispering me.

There was a pause, and when she got her breath back, it was warm and hesitant.

She taunted how a family man like him had ended up on an app sounding like a sleazy one.

It was part smile and part confession.

"I got here in a strange way. I didn't even know about WhisperLine. I'm a content writer, and someone read an old blog of mine and liked it so much that she referred me to the director of WhisperLine."

In a teasing way, Sunaina said, "What kind of blog does one need to write to get a job like this?" It sounds less like a job and more like a dream that someone is getting paid for."

He laughed and let the bait hang there. "Oh, it was "*Unspoken Female Fantasies in Urban India*."

Sunaina: "Oh, so you turn your need for females into a research project? Should I call you Dr. Desire in that case?

"Only if you promise to be my hardest case study, the one that keeps me up all night chasing answers with just your breath," Sumit remarked-with a smile deep, quiet voice.

He could hear Sunaina breathing, even though she was quiet. "Do you really think women fantasize that much?" she questioned, half-laughing, trying to seem like she didn't care.

"A lot more than you think. Men act on them, but women keep them to themselves."

WhisperLine: Games That Undresses Her.

There was a break, and then his tone changed.

"Do you want to play a game with me?"

She caught her breath.

"What kind of game?" she spoke in a low voice, as if her body had already leaned in before her head caught up.

Sumit smiled and spoke softly. "I'll tell you some fantasies that usually stay hidden in female mind.

"Some are from my blog, and some were shared by my female callers.

Sunaina snorted softly and playfully.

"Oh, so I'm your guinea pig now?"

She whispered in a hushed voice.

"Go ahead, Dr. Desire. Let me see what kind of dirty research you're doing."

He said softly, "It was just a game, so please don't take it seriously." I wouldn't judge you based on how you react."

But for Sumit, it was never just a game.

This was a ploy to uncover someone's sexual orientation by analysing how she reacted to selected set of fantasies of various type.

This was a hunt.

A way to find the one lock within a woman and turn the key without touching her.

Today, that woman was Sunaina.

He had a list--meticulously planned fantasies. Some flirted with power,, others teased shame, some danced with danger, some knelt down and surrendered.

Each one was more than simply a story; it was a key that could open up the part of her that she never wanted to show.

He started out bold.

"Someone has a photo of you..."he continued, "Something compromising,"

He continued in low voice, smooth but threatening -like velvet.

"You are summoned to an isolated place.

You get there, your heart racing and your thighs tense. You don't ask anything. You just walk into the silent area and wait, because you really want him to make a decision."

With strong breath, she spoke,

"Hmm...5 marks," she said quietly.

"Too dark. I don't enjoy being pushed. Blackmail... coercion..."

A pause.

She continued, "Not my type of kink," but her voice was teasing now--wicked with a smile, he could hear. "Unless," she purred, "the blackmailer looks like Hrithik Roshan."

Sumit grinned silently. No games of power. She didn't want to be trapped. She wanted to be able to surrender, not to have her choice taken away.

Sumit took Sunaina through a series of well planned fantasies, each with its own temptation and tone.

Some fantasies played with danger, while others played with humiliation. Some danced with crushes they shouldn't have, and others teased the thrill of being seen.

She gave each one a score in a fun way, sometimes with laughter and sometimes with breathless quiet. He meticulously studied how she reacted to everything from blackmail to school punishments.

He didn't just want to make her entertain. He was searching for the one that made her heart race and her breath slow down.

And when she reacted to the thought of being watched, vulnerable but in charge, Sumit knew, that was where her biggest temptation lived.

WhisperLine: She Bared Herself Between the Tracks

"Let me try one more," he said softly, like an artist putting the last touch on a masterpiece that was almost done.

There was a pause.

Then his voice lowered, warm and intimate.

"Imagine... you're next to a railway track.

Late evening.

You're wearing a pale yellow cotton kurti. No bra. Your dupatta is loose.

When the wind blows, the fabric sticks.

You are alone. A local train is coming roaring toward you, fast and crowded.

And just as the first bogie moves by... you let your dupatta fall"

Her breath caught.

Sumit spoke slowly, letting his words wrap around her like dusk.

"Then, one by one, you unbutton your kurti.

Slowly and deliberately.

"You take the fabric off one shoulder.

And then, all of a sudden, your breast is bare.

Glowing in the fading light."

No hurry. No shame.

She gasped, a loud sound that was somewhere between a sigh and astonishment.

"They can't believe what they're seeing.

Some people look away.

A lot of people can't look away.

And you... just stay there. Lips parted. Your heart racing. Your nipple growing getting erect in the wind, realising what exactly you had done.

"Sunaina, the train roared, but I think your heart was beating faster. Especially when the wind brushed against your nipple."

A long stillness hung between them, thick with breathlessness.

Then her voice came through, weak and heated. "Eleven..."

Sumit smiled, and the heat curling behind his ribs. "

"You broke the scale,"

She laughed softly and trembling.

Then, even quieter: "I don't know why that one hit so much."

A pause.

Then, like something holy seeping out, there was barely a whisper:

"This is the most arousing fantasy anyone has ever told me."

Sumit laughed softly, like velvet.

"Be careful, Sunaina. If you say that again, I could dare you to make it happen."

She laughed, then said in teasing tone, "And said if... May be I want to!"

He didn't miss the catch in her throat. Or the way she didn't really say it as a joke.

"Do that once..." he teased and spoke in a low voice. "Just once...

And a hundred men will travel that train every day, hoping for lightning to strike twice.

They'll look at that the spot like it's a sacred place. But they won't see you again.

She burst into laughter.

"Oh my God, you have to stop. You're going to make me think about it."

Sumit let the quiet linger. Then, in a wicked whisper, he said, "Then let me give you something to think about."

There was a heartbeat.

"There's a stretch outside of Lucknow, near Mohanlalganj.

Secluded. Remote. Occasional trains.

Trees were on both sides. There was no one except the sun and the wind.

"Just you... and hundred of stunned passengers. What they see, they'll never forget."

She didn't answer right away, but he could hear her breathing. And when she finally spoke, her voice was trembling.

"Perhaps I'll give it some thought."

Sumit moved closer to the speaker of the phone and teased.

"Then next time, I'll give you train number and exact timing."

He struct exactly where it counted.

There was no need for any further guesswork. He had analysed her sexuality through the rhythm of her breathing and pattern of laughter- her reaction to each fantasy.

He had been tracing the ache beneath her laugh and he was sure what set her off.

Her temptation was being watched.

WhisperLine: Came for one ball, found two.

For his confirmation, he decided to try once more.

"You say these are just stories, Sunaina," Sumit said softly

"But the way your breath catches... I can feel how much you've been holding back."

A pause.

The stillness buzzed between them. "Has anyone ever seen you in real life- the way you fantasizes about being seen?", he asked.

"I mean- it just happened. Someone had the chance to glimpses of your bare body- may be flash of your nipple, your curves, and even lower. You are stunned... you had to cover, but you didn't."

Sunaina was silent as if she slipping into the memory line.

"It was four months after Myra was born," she said softly. "My mother-in-law had hired a malish wali.

Malish wali is a traditional Indian woman specialises in post delivery massage.

She used to come every day. That afternoon, when no one was home, I asked her to give the massage outside in the aangan (courtyard) under the winter sun.

Sumit didn't say anything; he just listened.

"The oil felt warm on my skin." My body felt soft and relaxed."

"During the massage, she fed on my milk and dozed off on one breast.

"My breasts were still exposed, I did not bother to put on blouse as there was no one home- and also, I didn't want to disturb Myra's sleep."

Sumit stayed silent, just listening.

"And then I heard a sound. A cricket ball came from nowhere and landed straight into the open courtyard.

His voice stayed soft.

"The boy next door?"

"Not a boy anymore. He was twenty then. I hadn't even noticed the change till that moment. He wasn't calling- just standing there.

He wasn't a stranger. Anuj had always been around- too familiar, in fact. He'd come by often, run errands, or ask my husband to play cricket.

He wasn't a stranger. Anuj had always been around--too familiar, in fact. He'd come by often, run errands, or ask my husband to play cricket.

His eyes... they weren't on Myra."

A pause.

"Those were on me. Not my face -but on the breast Myra has not latched.

"I should have covered it immediately but I didn't."

Sumit's voice got lower. "Why?"

She said, "I didn't want to wake her... but more than that... I didn't want to miss the moment."

The telephone line went quiet again. She muttered, "There was something in his eyes, not like a boy, not innocent. And something inside me... didn't resist it.

"Anuj?" I finally spoke, her voice low, more breath than sound.

He blinked, as if I had broken a trance. "I... the ball came in..." he murmured, but he didn't look away.

I now gently and carefully grabbed for my blouse, not to hide but to break the situation.

"You found your ball," she replied in a calm, inscrutable voice. "Now go."

"As he was leaving, I added sharply, "Don't you have the manners to knock before coming to someone's house?"

Sumit let out a whistle and followed by a laugh.

"He came to get one ball..."

A long pause. "And found two milky ones instead."

Sunaina chuckled in surprise; it was too sudden and too unplanned.

"So, is this what men like you think about mothers who breastfeed?" she said with a smirk.

He didn't miss a beat.

"If getting turned on by the beautiful curves of nature is wrong, then I don't want to be right"

She smiled.

"Anuj," he said, curling his voice around the name.

"That lucky bastard got to sit in the front row at the Dairy India show, and he didn't even have to pay for it."

She smiled again. Sunaina gasped, half shocked and half laughing.

"Sumit. "She said in a hushed voice, this is not fair. He didn't mean to see it. It just... happened. He didn't do anything wrong."

"Anuj didn't do anything wrong... except for memorising the shape of your breast for the rest of his life."

He could feel her breath shifted again. "And it wasn't a mother's breast. It was a woman's breast. And she didn't argue."

Sumit realised that the call was taking longer than he had planned and that there were other callers waiting to talk. He had to finish it soon.

"Where is your hand now?" he asked.

A pause.

She murmured,

"It is where it should be... between my thighs."

He grinned. "Is it wet?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes... it from what you had said."

His voice got thicker. He said, "Good! Slide your fingers through it. Feel how swollen you are. "

"Don't hold back."

She gasped. He heard the faint sound of water.

"Do it the way you used to, right after feeding Myra. When your breasts we're still wet... erect and heavy with mill... you couldn't sleep because your body ached for it"

A moan escaped... raw and desperate. "I'd lie back," she said. "Pulled down the blouse... nipple wet. I would touch myself slowly.

He said, "Your fingers are slippery." "Your cunt aches. You wanted to be fucked, right?

"Yes," she said quietly. "But I couldn't... so I rubbed until I came, trying not to make a sound."

Sumit's voice had been clean up until now--no swearing, no cuss words. But as soon as he used one, she didn't dislike it.

Sumit groaned. "Do that now." Touch your clit. Slow circles. "Feel how hot you are for me."

She started to breathe faster. "Oh my god... I'm almost there... don't stop,"

He said. "Let me hear you fall apart."

She began breathe quickly and heavily. "Sumit... "I'm--oh--"

The orgasm hit her- sudden and hard. Her thighs clenched, and a low, heavy moan slipped.

She lay there, her breath unsteady and moan still fading from her lips.

Then her voice came, quiet and still trembling, "Sumit..."

A pause.

"God... it's been so long since I came like that."

She exhaled deeply, as if a woman is silently offering gratitude.

"Thanks. I didn't think my body could still feel this way."

Another pause.

"You really know a woman... better."

Her voice dropped, like she was whispering, "I needed it... more than I knew."

A moment thick with breath and heat passed.

"You got me wet, soaked my panties and made me moan like a crazy woman... and you just sit there with a headset on?"

A tone that sounds like you're mocking someone.

Underneath, it's sultry.

He chuckled slowly.

"No problem. I know I'm still on duty."

"Sumit... I'll make you come with just my voice.

He inhaled, and letting her barely hear catch in his breadth.

"Tempting offer," he said.

"If you finish it now, I won't have anything to give the incoming ones but empty breath."

She purred softly, "You mean you still plan to take more calls."

He didn't say no.

"That's what I'm supposed to do. More callers are waiting for me."

"Huh, More callers are waiting? Do you really have that much stamina left for them?"

A pause

" Do they even know they're sitting in the same chair, I left dripping?"

He smiled mischievously.

"You didn't leave a stain- you left a warning.

Every lady after you is up against a ghost."

Sumit breathed, and his voice was dropping-more thoughtful now, still full of that teasing charm."

"Three callers are waiting tonight... I will try to seduce with my voice. Make them breathe deeply. Shiver.

He paused for a moment, then let the smile back, this time softer. "And when I'm done with them..."

A beat--just long enough to sense the weight of what wasn't stated.

"... I'll sneak into the bed and lie down beside the only woman who is real in my life."

His voice got soften," She doesn't know what I've been up to. But somehow, she still gets the best of me"

She get a quiet, wicked hum.

"Sumit, one final thing."

Her voice got softer, lower and slower.

"What was the name of that railway track in Lucknow?"

He smiled a little.

"Mohanlalganj."

A pause.

"Why?"

She took time to answer... like a breathy confession:

"No plan... just wanted to remember where things went wrong."

"Good night, Sumit..."

A pause, and the words curled around the breath like silk.

"Next time... let's see how long you can last without begging."

The call ended, but she didn't vanish.

Her voice lingered-heat like heat caught between flesh and breath.

As she left, Sumit sat in the quiet for a few minutes... still hard, still disturbed.

Incoming call from Jalandhar.

A new woman. A new voice. A new story waiting to be whispered.

Sumit took a breath, changed his tone, and tapped Accept.

"WhisperLine," he said in a calm, low voice. "

"By the way, Amrita ji... what are you wearing now?"

One last call. One last peak.

Part Two ends her story.

Continued.