The more Rohan accepted our arrangement, the deeper Neha’s cravings for my visits grew. She was forbidden from reaching climax without my express permission, and Rohan was strictly prohibited from touching her pussy—a boundary Neha herself insisted upon. Not needing to see what he could never touch, Rohan was left in the dark. One of my favorite torments was sending him a single photo showing four different pussies, challenging him to guess which belonged to Neha. He never guessed right; none of them were hers. As a consolation, she would send him a blurred picture of her breasts, teasing him with what he could not have.
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Rohan cooked well, and after dinner, I recalled that Neha was still busily licking my cock like the submissive puppy she was. Time disappeared when I was around. She had slobbered all over the floor, a messy pool of drool that made me smirk. “Tch, tch, Neha! Not again,” I chided, spitting on the mess. “Clean it up, bitch. I want my dessert—and you better have that floor spotless when I look back. Don’t forget: with me here, you are the bitch, not your boyfriend.”
“Y-yes, sir,” she murmured obediently, flattening herself to lick the floor clean. I rose, pulling up her dress to expose her slick, eager pussy. Scooping a taste of her wetness, I savored her flavor, a perfect dessert in itself. She squirmed beneath me, and I spanked her until her ass glowed red, commanding silence as I fed on her nectar. Pain always triggered her obedience, plunging her into a trance-like state as her mind surrendered to my control.
By the time I had my fill, her pussy had left an even bigger mark on the floor. I admired her resilience—how steadfastly she obeyed the rules, not allowing Rohan to touch or even glimpse her most intimate self without my say-so. Pulling out my cock, Neha continued her dutiful cleaning until I gripped her hips and slid inside her slick warmth. “Fuhuuuuck, ssssir…” she moaned, desperation and relief mixed in that needy sound.
That cry only fueled my desire to dominate them further. Some might say I was twisted; humiliating Neha felt far more potent with Rohan present. “Mmhmm, not here, Neha,” I warned, withdrawing and seizing the leash attached to her nipple clamps. Leading her on all fours, breasts bouncing and dripping with saliva and arousal, I positioned her on the bed facing a framed vacation photo of her and Rohan, his hand resting possessively on her waist.
“Look at this picture,” I ordered, shoving my cock back into her dripping pussy. Neha’s mind seemed gone, reduced to nothing but a willing hole. “Does he get you to use your pussy, cunt?” I demanded.
“No, sir. Never, since you took me,” she whispered.
“Obedient whore,” I praised coldly, though my pride twisted with disdain. “But isn’t it pathetic to still call him your boyfriend?”
Her hesitation made my patience snap. Wrapping a hand around her throat, I pounded into her with harsh urgency, wanting to break more than just her body. “Is that hesitation, Neha? You think you have that liberty with my cock in you, my hand choking you, and your pussy dripping like this? Answer me now, bitch!” I thrust deeper, harder.
“Y-yes, sir. I’m pathetic… He’s—hhuuuh—probably jerking off right now,” she mumbled, eyes flickering toward the intercom on the side table.
“You stupid little worthless bitch! Your pussy twitches when I insult your excuse for a boyfriend, doesn’t it? You’re with him just for kink play!” I whispered in her ear, spanking her wet cunt to emphasize the point. Flipping her onto her back, I hovered close, ripping the sundress from her body.
“Oh, it’s okay, Neha. Kink toys are fair. I have you to use, abuse, and fuck endlessly. Make a kink toy out of Rohan if you want. After all, YOU are MY kink toy, aren’t you?”
I thrust into her relentlessly, legs brushing her thighs as she wrapped her legs around me, eyes locked on mine. I paused, slapping her hard across the face. She sniffled, meeting my gaze again—another slap, harsher this time. Tears welled and slid down her cheeks. “What do you say when Sir hurts you, Neha?” I spat lightly across her face.
Sobbing, she whispered, “Th-th-thank you, Sir.”
“Tch, tch. I hurt you to make you better.” Leaning in, I sealed my mouth to hers, tongues tangling in a possessive battle. Her wet pussy audibly sopped against my pelvis—a glorious sound hidden by the rhythmic clapping of our bodies. I wondered how Rohan could resist seeing what he was missing. If she were mine, I’d fuck her until I was spent every damn day.
“Want to cum on my cock, Neha?” I growled as she dug her nails into my back. “You can come like the desperate cock slut you are—no need to hide it. You exist for fucking, nothing else. Don’t let dignity or morals stand in the way. Cum now, bitch!”
Her body jerked in a shuddering climax, pussy convulsing tightly around me. I treasured that gift—it kept her needy, compliant, obedient. She locked eyes with me, falling into a heated kiss.
“I—I want to make you come… please,” she begged softly in between kisses.
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