Till last update we have used aishwarya rajesh as an expectation sequence. In reality aishwarya character is not used by Daniel ayyasaami and others ..So should I continue with aishwarya or leave her and bring new characters??? Reason I am asking this because we don't have much fakes for aishwarya ....Please suggest..Need your suggestion...
A tragic car accident the previous night. The official police report, delivered by a grim-faced constable, stated her vehicle had veered off the road and exploded into flames on her way home from a meeting with IPS Officer Tabu Sharma. The body was unrecognizable, identified only by the charred remains of her ID card and the wreckage of her car.
The grief was palpable. A memorial was hastily arranged on the main lawn, a sea of somber students and faculty gathered around a framed photograph of the fierce, intelligent professor. The air was thick with the scent of wilting flowers and unanswered questions.
Minister SK Ayyasaami arrived, a picture of statesmanlike gravitas, laying an elaborate floral wreath at the foot of the portrait. His voice was a low, practiced murmur of condolence. “A brilliant light, extinguished too soon. A tragic loss for academia, for our state.” He offered empty platitudes to the weeping student, Krithi Shetty, whose face was a mask of devastation and fury. She stared right through him, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides.
That same night, the atmosphere in Ayyasaami’s private study was one of obscene celebration. The thorn was out. The air was rich with the peaty scent of imported Scotch.
Jyothi IPS was perched on the arm of Malik’s leather chair, her uniform jacket discarded, her crisp white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal the deep cleft of her cleavage. She was already two drinks in, her movements loose, her police-officer demeanor shed as easily as the khaki jacket.
Malik’s hand was on her thigh, creeping higher. “To a clean road,” he chuckled, raising his glass.
“To a crispy bitch,” Rajeev added with a dark smirk, clinking his glass against the others.
Ayyasaami simply smiled, his eyes on Jyothi. “Our good Madam IPS performed beautifully. The evidence against Sharma is… compellingly fabricated.” Tabu in jail now...
Malik, emboldened by the whiskey and the victory, didn’t just let his hand wander. He decisively lowered the cup of Jyothi’s brassiere and poured a generous splash of his amber whiskey directly onto her bare breast. The liquid was cool against her skin for a split second before his mouth was on her, his tongue lapping at the spill, his stubble scratching the soft, sensitive flesh.
Jyothi gasped, her back arching. “Aahhhh! Ufffff… Malik, please… stop…” she moaned, but her hand came up to cradle the back of his head, holding him to her.
The men around her roared with laughter. Ayyasaami leaned over, grabbing her face and planting a wet, possessive kiss on her lips, tasting the whiskey on them. “You worry about the dumbest things, you stupid fucking cunt,” he growled, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Your fat, pregnant tits were a masterpiece. But for now, just be our good little slut and do as you’re told.”
He released her, and Jyothi’s head fell back, a shameless, turned-on smile on her face. She made no move to pull her shirt up, letting her whiskey-glazed breast remain exposed to the cool air of the room.
Ayyasaami swirled his drink, his mind already moving to the next strategic play. “We have two options on the table now,” he began, his voice turning clipped and efficient. “Option one: We get Tabu out of that cell. Bring her here. Daniel, you hit her with everything. High-voltage electroshock to scramble that righteous brain of hers into obedient mush. Also use hydro energy on her...
We rewire her, mind, body, and soul. We turn that aggressive bitch into a willing, drooling hole. We use hypnosis to make her so fucking compliant she’ll strip naked in a crowded market if we whisper the command. Just like our dear Jyothi here, sitting with her tit out, no shame at all.” He gestured to Jyothi, who preened at the comparison. “We’d have two IPS officers on a leash. Even if that little student slut Krithy hands over whatever evidence Aishwarya gave her, it won’t matter. Tabu will be ours. And the pride… the pride of making that high-and-mighty Tabu Sharma lick the shit from our shoes….”
Rajeev and Malik Fondled Jyothi’s bare breasts harder, squeezing the soft flesh as they contemplated the idea, their eyes gleaming with vicious anticipation.
“Or,” Ayyasaami continued, “Option two: We snatch Krithi Shetty right from her college hostel. Bring the grieving little activist here. Daniel, you work your ‘mad scientist’ magic on her young, idealistic mind. We fuck the rebellion right out of her, replace it with an addiction to cock. We turn her into a willing slut, break her completely, and then we just take the evidence. It’s cleaner. A student is easier to disappear than a senior cop.”
He looked around the room, from Daniel’s calculating gaze to Malik’s brutal smirk, to Rajeev’s hungry eyes, and finally to Jyothi’s intoxicated, submissive expression.
“The question is,” Ayyasaami purred, “which one provides a more satisfying fuck-toy for the night? Which one do we break first? The powerful huntress… or the innocent lamb?” He let the question hang in the air, heavy with perverse promise. “Do we corrupt the student to get our evidence back? Or do we conquer the cop to control the entire fucking police department?”
He leaned forward, his eyes locking with Daniel’s. “Doctor? The floor is yours. Who do we destroy?”“Tabu Sharma,” Daniel said in a low, chilling voice. “Break the cop first—bend her will, shatter her pride, and the rest will fall like dominoes.”
I thought I will stop writting on Priyanka mohan character as she is just a supporting character in this story... But since you guys want me to write on that character, then let me prolong her character... But don't scold me saying I am following routine template as it is you guys who asked me to follow...
Anyway please tell to what level you want to picturize Priyanka mohan character to... ?? Say how you want me to take her character forward.... just slut on bed or even total character and attitude change .....
Need suggestion for story development....
TILL I RECEIVE SUGGESTIONS I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO CONTINUE THIS STORY....
I thought I will stop writting on Priyanka mohan character as she is just a supporting character in this story... But since you guys want me to write on that character, then let me prolong her character... But don't scold me saying I am following routine template as it is you guys who asked me to follow...
Anyway please tell to what level you want to picturize Priyanka mohan character to... ?? Say how you want me to take her character forward.... just slut on bed or even total character and attitude change .....
Need suggestion for story development....
TILL I RECEIVE SUGGESTIONS I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO CONTINUE THIS STORY....
Thanks guys for your support Now working on Priyanka update...this is just for readers satisfaction....People who are focussing on the story can skip this update as this is not gonna make any difference in the story .
Also want to give you some clues for my next update .....
1. Jyothi got pregnant 2wice and each time Daniel gave her child to a lab...
2.aishwarya met with accident...she died..rituals happened...but her body was completely destroyed and in UNIDENTIFIED STATE....
So after this Priyanka update the story will focus on these 2 points...
Hi folks... This update just to satisfy readers since you asked for Priyanka mohan detail chapter.... Specially for Priyanka mohan fans...if not interested just skip it as this won't make any change your story reading....
ON MONDAY:
The rain didn’t fall; it attacked. A biblical deluge hammered the city of Chennai, turning streets into raging rivers and neighbourhoods into shallow, filthy lakes. The opening of the Chembarambakkam dam was the final, catastrophic blow, sending a controlled flood of murky water to drown the already suffocating metropolis. From the panoramic windows of Rajeev’s Anna Nagar apartment, the world was a monochrome wash of grey water and despair.
Priyanka watched, her professional mind automatically calculating the crisis response, even as Rajeev’s hands roamed over the bare skin beneath her simple kameez. She’d thrown it on after their last frantic coupling, the thin fabric covering her body down to her ass, nothing beneath it. The feeling of the cotton against her sensitized skin was a constant, low-grade turn-on.
“Colleges are closed indefinitely,” Rajeev murmured into her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. “Your little project with Krithi Shetty is on hold.
Ayyasaami gave you a week’s leave. Consider it a… **censored** vacation.”
He spun her around to face him. His eyes, dark and hungry, scanned her face. “The minister, Malik, Daniel… they have a private jet. We’re shifting to Pattaya for the week. Get out of this shithole flood.”
Priyanka stiffened. “Pattaya? No. I… I should go to my native place. Check on my family.”
Rajeev’s laugh was a short, sharp bark. “Your family is fine. This is a controlled flood; the powerful neighborhoods are draining already. This is an opportunity.” His hands slid down to her ass, squeezing firmly through the fabric. “Come with me.”
“Rajeev, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Being with all of you… together… I don’t feel comfortable.”
“I told you,” he said, his voice dropping to a possessive growl. “I made it clear to them. You’re mine. They won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll be right there with you.” He leaned in, his lips a breath from hers. “Please.”
He asked again. And again. Each time his voice was a mix of command and a plea she’d never heard from him. The desperation in his eyes, contrasting with the absolute power he wielded over her body, was her undoing. The part of her that was still Inspector Priyanka Mohan screamed in protest. The part he had awoken, the part that craved his particular brand of currency, thrummed with a dark, curious excitement.
“Okay,” she breathed, the word a surrender. “I’ll come.”
A triumphant grin spread across his face. He pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen. Plan success. Priyanka is coming. A moment later, a reply from Ayyasaami flashed: Excellent. Car in one hour.
Five hours later, they stood on the sodden tarmac of Chennai airport, the roar of the storm muted by the even louder roar of the private jet’s engines. Priyanka clutched her small bag, suddenly self-conscious in the violet silk sari she’d chosen. It was elegant, formal, utterly unsuitable for a Thai beach resort.
Rajeev, Malik, and Daniel exchanged a look she couldn’t decipher. Ayyasaami, already seated inside with a glass of champagne, gave her an avuncular smile as she boarded.
“Inspector Priyanka! So glad you could join our little escape,” he boomed. “Do not worry. Rajeev has made his… feelings… quite clear. You are under his protection. We are all gentlemen here.” The way he said ‘gentlemen’ made her skin prickle.
The flight was a blur of turbulence and forced small talk. Rajeev was pulled into a hushed conversation with Daniel at the back of the cabin, leaving her alone with Malik’s intimidating silence. She heard only snippets: “…transformation…”, “…needs the right environment…”, and “…once we reach Pattaya you will know.”
The jet finally descended through the oppressive Thai humidity. As they disembarked, a woman was waiting for them. She was petite, about 160 cm, with a compact, toned figure that her elegant yellow silk sari did little to disguise. Her curves were pronounced—34-28-36—and her eyes, a warm brown, held a knowing glint.
“Welcome, Minister. Gentlemen,” she said, her voice a smooth, melodic thing. She folded her hands in a respectful namaste, but her gaze was boldly assessing, lingering on each of them before landing on Priyanka.
“Priyanka, this is Keerthi,” Daniel said smoothly, stepping forward. “The minister’s secretary here in Thailand. She will be overseeing our accommodations and… needs… for the week.”
Priyanka offered a tight, professional smile. “Hello.”
Keerthi’s smile widened. “A pleasure to meet you, madam. I hope to make your stay very comfortable.” There was an odd emphasis on the word ‘comfortable’.
As their bags were loaded into a waiting van, Ayyasaami drew Rajeev, Malik, and Daniel aside. Priyanka watched them, her cop instincts screaming. Keerthi sidled up to her.
“Don’t worry about them,” Keerthi said, her tone conspiratorial. “Men and their business. It is so hot, no? Let’s get you into the air conditioning.” She linked her arm through Priyanka’s, a gesture of instant familiarity that felt both invasive and reassuring. Her skin was surprisingly cool.
In the van, Keerthi chatted amiably about Pattaya, the best beaches, the nightlife. Priyanka, disarmed by the woman’s easy charm, found herself responding, sharing her own thoughts. She’s sharp, Priyanka thought. And she feels… familiar.
Unknown to Priyanka, Keerthi was none other than Daniel’s most successful former subject, an Indian prostitute he had permanently relocated to Thailand. Her expertise wasn’t in administration; it was in transformation. Daniel’s words echoed in his own mind from their hushed conversation on the jet: There’s a saying… to make a line appear smaller, you don’t erase it. You draw a bigger, bolder line right next to it. Keerthi is that bigger line.
An hour later, they pulled up to a secluded, ultra-modern villa overlooking the ocean. As they stepped into the breathtaking, air-cooled foyer, Ayyasaami clamped a hand on Rajeev’s shoulder. “Remember, boy. She is your prize. Your ‘love’,” he said, the word dripping with sarcastic indulgence. “We will not force her. We will not fuck her.”
Daniel adjusted his glasses, a cold smile on his lips. “Until she asks for it. Until she begs for it. And we will make her beg.”
Inside, Priyanka was already laughing at something Keerthi had said, the two women leaning close together like old friends. Keerthi’s hand rested on the small of Priyanka’s back, guiding her towards the balcony and the stunning vista beyond. The first part of the plan was already a success. The target was relaxed, off-balance, and bonding beautifully with the very instrument of her corruption. Rajeev watched, a knot of possessive desire and trepidation tightening in his stomach. The game had left Chennai’s shadows and arrived in the blinding Thai sun.Inside the villa, they were shown to several luxurious rooms. Keerthi turned to the men with a polite but firm smile. “I’ll be sharing a room with Priyanka,” she announced. “I think she’ll feel more comfortable with me.”
The statement hung in the air, unexpected and loaded. The men exchanged glances—Rajeev’s jaw tightened, Malik raised an eyebrow, and Daniel adjusted his glasses with a faint smirk. Ayyasaami chuckled, his avuncular demeanor masking a note of approval.
Priyanka herself was surprised but relieved. Keerthi’s calm, protective presence felt like a shield against the underlying tension of the group. “Thank you,” she said softly, her gratitude genuine.
“Of course,” Keerthi replied smoothly, linking her arm through Priyanka’s again. “You’re in a new place, and I want you to feel at ease.” Her tone was warm, but her eyes darted briefly to the men, conveying something unspoken.
It was 3 PM Pattaya time, and the Thai heat pressed against the villa’s air-conditioned cool. Keerthi turned to the gents with a bright smile. “We’re going shopping,” she declared. “You all stay here and… relax.” She emphasized the last word with a playful wave, her sari swishing as she moved.
As Keerthi and Priyanka stepped into the waiting car, the men watched them go, each lost in their own thoughts. Rajeev’s fingers twitched as if he wanted to pull Priyanka back, while Daniel’s cold smile widened. “Patience,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She’s exactly where we need her to be.”
In the car, Keerthi leaned back, her demeanor shifting to one of casual ease. “So, what do you like to shop for?” she asked, her tone light. Priyanka hesitated, then smiled. “I don’t know. Clothes, maybe? Something… different.”
Keerthi’s eyes gleamed. “Different is good. I know just the place.” As the car sped through Pattaya’s vibrant streets, Priyanka felt a strange mix of excitement and unease. Keerthi’s presence was comforting, yet there was something electric about her, a magnetism that both drew her in and unsettled her.
The game had shifted, and Priyanka was no longer sure who she was playing with—or against.
Keerthi’s driver navigated the vibrant, chaotic streets of Pattaya with an ease that spoke of long familiarity. Neon signs advertising go-go bars and massage parlours bled into the humid twilight, a stark contrast to the flooded austerity Priyanka had left behind in Chennai. The car pulled up not to a mall, but to a sleek, modern apartment building.
“My place,” Keerthi announced, her smile sharp and inviting. “I need to change into something more… suitable for shopping. You can wait inside. It’s too hot in the car.”
Priyanka, still wrapped in the formal armor of her violet silk sari, nodded, feeling increasingly out of place. The apartment was spare and stylish, all cool marble and minimal furniture. Keerthi gestured to a low-slung sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just be a minute.”
She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. Priyanka sat primly on the edge of the sofa, her hands folded in her lap, her police-trained eyes automatically scanning the room. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant hum of traffic.
After a few moments, Keerthi’s voice floated from the bedroom, playful and laced with a challenge. “You know, you could come in. Unless you’re too shy to see me naked?”
Priyanka’s spine straightened. The comment was wildly inappropriate, a blatant crossing of professional—and **censored**—lines. Yet, the woman’s tone was so casual, so normalized, that the shock was immediately followed by a strange, deflating sense that she was the one being odd for finding it strange. “I… I’m fine here, thank you,” she called back, her voice tighter than she intended.
Keerthi just laughed, a light, musical sound. “Suit yourself!”
Ten minutes later, the bedroom door opened. Priyanka’s breath caught in her throat. Keerthi stood there, but the demure secretary was utterly gone. In her place was a vision of calculated, casual obscenity. She wore a dress that could barely be classified as such: two narrow strips of shimmering, cobalt-blue spandex that barely contained her full breasts, their dark nipples visibly outlined against the tight fabric. The garment plunged to her navel in a deep V and cut high on her thighs, revealing the smooth, toned expanse of her legs and the faint shadow of her pubic mound. A pair of towering silver platform heels completed the look.
“What… what are you wearing?” Priyanka stammered, her face flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the Thai climate. “You can’t go out in that!”
Keerthi tilted her head, a picture of innocent confusion. “Why not? This is Pattaya. This is normal here. It’s just a dress.” She walked forward, her hips swaying, the movement making the tiny dress strain at its minimal seams. “It’s just fabric. It’s just skin. Is there something wrong with showing a beautiful body?” Her words were simple, logical, and they effortlessly carved away at Priyanka’s ingrained reservations. Of course it was normal. This was Pattaya. This was Keerthi. It was all perfectly natural.
All individuals in this narrative are consenting adults engaging freely in acts of mutual pleasure and exploration.
Before Priyanka could form another protest, Keerthi was standing right in front of her. “You’re still wrapped up like a present no one’s allowed to open,” she murmured, her fingers deftly finding the pinned fold of Priyanka’s sari blouse. With a few swift, practiced motions, she unpinned it. The silk whispered away, pooling around Priyanka’s waist, leaving her torso clad only in her practical beige bra. Priyanka gasped, but Keerthi’s hands were already on her shoulders, turning her gently but firmly to face a large, ornate mirror on the wall.
“Look,” Keerthi breathed, standing close behind her, her near-naked body just inches from Priyanka’s back. Her reflection was a study in contrasts: Priyanka’s professional, covered lower half and exposed, suddenly vulnerable upper body next to Keerthi’s blatant, confident nudity. “Look at yourself. You’re a beautiful woman. Is there anything wrong with that? Anything wrong with seeing it? With showing it?”
Priyanka was mesmerized, hypnotized by the calm certainty in Keerthi’s voice. Her own reflection seemed to blur, the sharp lines of her identity softening under this new, permissive gaze. Her resistance, so fierce in the face of Rajeev’s brute force, melted under this insidious warmth. “No…” she heard herself whisper. “No, there’s nothing wrong…”
It was all the invitation Keerthi needed. She moved with a predator’s grace, turning Priyanka’s face towards her own. Their eyes met for a heartbeat—Priyanka’s wide with dazed confusion, Keerthi’s dark with ancient knowing. Then Keerthi closed the distance, her lips meeting Priyanka’s in a soft, searching kiss.
Priyanka froze. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest. This was wrong. This was a woman. Mmmph. She tried to turn her head, a weak, stifled sound of denial caught in her throat. But Keerthi’s mouth was persistent, her lips moving with a soft, suctioning pressure that was utterly unlike Rajeev’s demanding possession.
One of Keerthi’s hands came up to cup Priyanka’s cheek, holding her gently in place, while the other found the catch of her bra. Click.
The sound seemed to break a spell. The protest died. The tension bled from Priyanka’s shoulders. Her lips, hesitantly at first, then with a slow-building hunger, began to move against Keerthi’s. She gave up. She surrendered. A low, shuddering moan escaped her as Keerthi’s tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her, exploring her mouth with a lazy, confident intimacy.
Keerthi broke the kiss, her breathing slightly quickened. A wicked smile played on her glistening lips. “Good girl,” she purred. “Now, let’s get you out of the rest of these clothes.” She made quick work of Priyanka’s sari skirt and petticoat, leaving her standing in just her plain cotton panties. Keerthi’s appreciative gaze roamed over her body. “So beautiful. And so tense. Let me help you relax.”
She led a pliant Priyanka to the bed, pushing her down onto the crisp white duvet. Keerthi knelt between her legs, her fingers hooking into the waistband of Priyanka’s panties. “Lift your hips for me, darling.” Priyanka obeyed, a shiver of anticipation running through her as the last scrap of fabric was removed. She was completely bare, exposed under Keerthi’s intense scrutiny.
Keerthi didn’t descend on her immediately. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands smoothing up the insides of Priyanka’s thighs, pushing them further apart. “So pretty,” she murmured, her breath a warm ghost over Priyanka’s sensitive skin. “So wet for me already.” Her thumbs came up to gently part Priyanka’s outer lips, exposing the glistening, flushed pink flesh within. Priyanka whimpered, her hips giving an involuntary jerk.
Then Keerthi’s mouth was on her. Not with Rajeev’s brutal hunger, but with a slow, deliberate expertise that was somehow more devastating. Her tongue was a flat, wet stroke from the very base of Priyanka’s sopping slit all the way up to her throbbing clit. Schlllp. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Priyanka cried out, her back arching off the bed. “Oh god…”
Keerthi hummed against her, the vibration sending seismic shocks of pleasure through Priyanka’s core. Mmmph. Her tongue dove deep, fucking into Priyanka’s tight channel before swirling up to lavish attention on her straining clit, sucking the hypersensitive nub gently into her mouth. Slurp. Glrk. It was an act of worship and conquest, and Priyanka was utterly enslaved by it. Her hands fisted in the duvet, her legs trembling. The coiling tension in her gut was different, a slow, deep build rather than a frantic race.
Priyanka’s eyes widened. The last vestiges of her old self tried to form a ‘no’, but it was smothered by a wave of dizzying, perverse need. This was happening. This was normal. This was what she wanted.
Keerthi slicked the length of the toy with more lube, the clear gel shining under the lights. She positioned herself between Priyanka’s legs again, the blunt head of the dildo pressing against Priyanka’s dripping entrance. “Ready?” Keerthi asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
Priyanka could only nod, her mouth dry. Keerthi pushed forward. There was a moment of intense, stretching pressure, a faint burn that made Priyanka gasp. Unnnh! But she was so wet, so turned on, that her body yielded easily, swallowing the length of the fake cock in one smooth, deep glide. Squelsh.
The feeling was incredible. A deep, filling fullness that hit places Rajeev’s cock never could. Keerthi began to move, establishing a slow, rolling rhythm. Squelch. Plap. The harness straps dug into Keerthi’s hips with each thrust, a soft creak of leather joining the wet symphony. Priyanka’s hands scrambled at Keerthi’ back, her blunt nails scraping over the smooth skin.
“Fuck me…” Priyanka moaned, the vulgarity feeling natural on her tongue now. “Fuck me with your cock…”
Keerthi’s pace intensified, her thrusts becoming harder, deeper. She leaned down, capturing one of Priyanka’s nipples in her mouth, sucking and nibbling as she drove into her. The dual sensations pushed Priyanka to the brink. The coiling spring in her belly tightened to a breaking point.
“I’m gonna cum!” she shrieked, her voice ragged. “Don’t stop! Make me cum on your strap!”
Keerthi pistoned into her, the dildo hitting her deepest spot with unerring accuracy. Thwap! Thwap! The sound of their bodies meeting, of silicone plunging into wet flesh, was all Priyanka could hear. Her orgasm erupted, a silent, shattering convulsion that locked every muscle. Her cunt clenched rhythmically around the invading toy, milking it in waves of intense pleasure.
As Priyanka’s spasms began to subside, Keerthi slowed her thrusts, a satisfied smirk on her face. She leaned close, her lips brushing Priyanka’s ear. “See? Nothing wrong with a little research between friends.” She gave one last, shallow thrust. “Now, let’s go shopping. I think you need a dress just like mine.Priyanka stirred, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her climax. The reality of what had just happened began to sink in, but Keerthi’s calm, almost nonchalant demeanor kept the panic at bay. As Keerthi slipped the harness off and set the dildo aside, she turned to Priyanka with a sly smile.
“We need to get you dressed,” Keerthi said, her voice smooth like honey. She moved to her closet and rifled through it with purpose.
A moment later, she pulled out a dress that made Priyanka’s eyes widen. It was even bolder than Keerthi’s own outfit—a sheer black mesh number with strategic patches of lace covering only the most intimate areas.
“I… I can’t wear that,” Priyanka stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson. “It’s… it’s…”
“Perfect for you,” Keerthi interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She held the dress up against Priyanka’s body, her dark eyes gleaming with approval. “You’re a goddess, Priyanka. It’s time you start dressing like one.”
Priyanka hesitated, but the memory of Keerthi’s words echoed in her mind. “Is there something wrong with showing a beautiful body?” Her resistance crumbled. Slowly, she took the dress from Keerthi’s hands and slipped it on. The fabric clung to her curves, the mesh revealing far more than it concealed. She turned to the mirror, her breath catching at the sight of herself. She looked… different. Bold. Free. Unapologetic.
Keerthi stepped up behind her, her hands resting lightly on Priyanka’s hips. “See? Nothing to be ashamed of. You’re stunning.” Her lips brushed against the shell of Priyanka’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, let’s go show Pattaya what it’s been missing.”
Priyanka nodded, her earlier inhibitions now a distant memory. She felt a strange, exhilarating sense of liberation. She wasn’t just wearing a dress—she was embracing a new part of herself. And as she followed Keerthi out the door, she knew there was no turning back.
The humid Pattaya air clung to Priyanka’s skin as she stepped out of Keerthi’s apartment, the sheer black mesh dress feeling less like fabric and more like a second, scandalous layer of skin. Her nipples, hard and sensitive from Keerthi’s earlier attention, pressed blatantly against the lace patches. Keerthi, a vision in her own microscopic spandex, hailed a tuk-tuk with a confident wave.
“The shop is just down this street,” Keerthi said, her voice a purr as the three-wheeled vehicle lurched into motion. The driver’s eyes, reflected in the rearview mirror, didn’t even flicker over their near-naked forms. It was, as Keerthi had said, normal here. The normalization was a drug, seeping into Priyanka’s veins, silencing the last screaming vestiges of Inspector Mohan.
The shop was a cavern of neon and vinyl, a temple to carnal fashion. Racks were stuffed with outfits made of straps, chains, and translucent materials. Keerthi moved through it like a queen, her fingers tracing a line of garments before stopping at one that made even the seasoned shoppers pause.
It was a dress, if it could be called that. A single, narrow strip of latex formed a plunging V that would meet at the crotch, with two small, circular adhesive patches meant to barely cover the nipples. The back was entirely absent, and the entire affair was held together by a single, delicate-looking strap that would loop around the neck.
“This one,” Keerthi declared, plucking it from the rack and holding it up against Priyanka. “The color of sin. It will look divine on you.”
Priyanka’s mouth went dry. “Keerthi… I can’t. It’s… there’s nothing to it.”
“That’s the point, you silly girl,” Keerthi laughed, a sound both melodic and utterly condescending. “It’s not for coverage; it’s for display. Now, try it on.” She gestured toward a trial room, its flimsy curtain doing little to promise privacy.
Hesitantly, Priyanka took the garment. The latex was cool and slick against her trembling fingers. She moved toward the curtain, her heart hammering against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fading resistance.
“Stop.”
Keerthi’s command was soft but absolute. Priyanka froze.
“Why go behind a curtain?” Keerthi asked, stepping closer. “Are you ashamed of the body I just worshipped? Of the body Rajeev can’t get enough of? There’s no one here who hasn’t seen it all before.”
With a deftness born of practice, Keerthi’s hands went to the clasp of Priyanka’s new mesh dress. The flimsy garment pooled at her feet, leaving her utterly naked in the middle of the shop. A cold dread, laced with a shocking thrill, shot through her. A few other shoppers glanced over, their expressions bored, disinterested. A shop assistant folded a G-string nearby, not even blinking. Keerthi was right. No one cared. Her dignity wasn’t being destroyed; it was being revealed as an irrelevant concept.
“Arms up,” Keerthi instructed, her tone that of a tailor fitting a client.
Meekly, Priyanka obeyed. Keerthi smoothed the cold, red latex over her torso. The adhesive patches stuck to her areolae with a slight tchk sound, the pressure on her nipples sending a jolt straight to her clit. Keerthi fastened the neck strap, and the dress was on. It was even more degrading than being naked. The latex clung to every curve, the crimson a violent slash against her skin. The single strip between her legs pressed snugly against her slit, a constant, maddening reminder of its presence.
“Perfect,” Keerthi breathed, turning Priyanka to face a full-length mirror.
The woman staring back was a stranger. A wanton slut dressed for a night of debauchery. Priyanka felt a hot flush of shame, immediately followed by a dark, coiling excitement. She was the biggest, boldest line on the page.
Back in the tuk-tuk, the humid air kissing her exposed skin, Priyanka felt strangely calm. The initial shock had been replaced by a numb acceptance. Keerthi watched her, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“You took that very well,” she said. “Better than I did my first time.”
“Your first time?” Priyanka asked, her voice quiet.
Keerthi’s smile tightened. “I told Ayyasaami I was his **censored** secretary. That was a lie. I am a prostitute. A very expensive, very well-trained one. Daniel Balaji didn’t just hypnotize those village girls, you know. He perfected his craft on me years ago. I was his first masterpiece. He broke me down and rebuilt me into this.” She gestured to her own body. “Ayyasaami, Malik, Daniel… they didn’t bring me here to manage your itinerary. They brought me here to finish your brainwashing.”
Priyanka’s breath hitched. The admission should have sent her into a panic. Instead, it felt like a missing puzzle piece clicking into place. “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew I recognized you. Years ago, in Chennai… I was part of a raid. There was a girl… for immoral trafficking. It was you.”
Keerthi nodded, her expression unchanging. “And now you’re here with me. Funny how the world works. You arrested me for being a whore, and now I’m here to make you one.” She leaned closer. “Rajeev isn’t here to protect you. He’s in Manila until Saturday. And these men… they don’t just want to fuck you, Priyanka. They want to break you. A gangbang. Spit on you. Piss on you. All of it.”
“Rajeev would never allow it,” Priyanka insisted, but the protest felt weak, hollow.
“Rajeev did allow it,” Keerthi countered smoothly. “He never said he wouldn’t if you were ready for it. He just said he wouldn’t share you. There’s a difference. Your readiness is the key he unknowingly gave them.”
The tuk-tuk swerved, and the red latex squeezed Priyanka’s pussy. She gasped.
“I… I don’t want to end up like Jyothi,” Priyanka blurted out, the name a shield. “The whole department knew. A year of leave to have some bastard child. She came back looking like a fat pig. I can only imagine the cow she was while pregnant.”
Keerthi’s laugh was sharp. “And have you ever heard Jyothi complain? She was happy to be bred. No one raped her. She opened her legs and begged for it. She doesn’t ask about the child because that ‘motherhood shit’ is a performance for society. Not all women have it. We are made to be sluts, Priyanka. To be on our backs, or on our knees, between a man’s legs. That is our place.
You’ve raided enough brothels.Tell me, how many of those women started as rape victims?”The question was a gut punch. Priyanka’s mind raced through countless faces, countless files. “I… many. A lot.”
“Not all,” Keerthi conceded, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But enough. Once society decides you’re ruined, a demon wakes up inside. You think, what else do I have to lose? You get a taste for it. A taste for the power of your own degradation. It becomes a hang-up. An addiction. You don’t do it for the money. You do it because it’s who you are now.”
The logic was twisted, horrific, and irrefutable. It mirrored the dark curiosity uncoiling within Priyanka herself.
“Look at your mother,” Keerthi pressed. “My mother. They became fat pigs after marriage. It’s not age. It’s a certificate. A badge that says ‘I am a man’s dirty cow.’ You have a chance to be a cow for multiple men. Why waste it? Rajeev fucks you like you’re something precious. These men… they will fuck you for fun. They will ruin this homely-girl ass and these innocent tits. They will give you the kind of fun that leaves you raw and screaming.”
She placed a hand on Priyanka’s thigh. “But I can promise you two things. What happens in Pattaya stays in Pattaya. And they won’t get you pregnant. Not yet. They need you sharp to destroy Krithi Shetty. Even if you beg for it—and you will beg—they’ll say no. So just… give up. Rajeev returns Saturday. We leave Sunday. You have until then with no interruptions.” Keerthi’s eyes locked onto hers. “So? What is your decision?”
Priyanka stared out at the passing neon blur. What dignity? What reputation? What would be left of her?
Keerthi didn’t wait for the answer. “What will be left?” she mused, answering the unspoken question. “A well-fucked cunt. A sore, used asshole. A throat that knows the taste of multiple cocks. A face painted with cum. The serene knowledge that you are, and always will be, a dirty fucking bitch. That’s what will be left.”
The tuk-tuk pulled up to the villa. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Priyanka could feel the cool latex against her heat, the weight of Keerthi’s gaze, the terrifying freedom of the choice.
STORY RECAP: City of chennai is controlled by 4 highly influential people...Ayyasaami,Daniel, Malik,Rajeev... All female IPS or IAS officers are just their playthings... Just fucking a woman is not their interest...They wish to see them dirty,destroy their reputation and dignity and enjoy their acceptance...Till now Jyothi IPS, TABU IPS and PRIYANKA IPS fell into their trap...
As far as priyanka issue, Rajeev fucked her individually and she had lesbian fuck with keerthi a prostitute but gangbang is yet to happen which will happen in our forthcoming episode but we.can conclude that Priyanka is also under control of these womaniser group...
On the other chennai flood and strike in annamalai university have created issues for ayyasaami and team with no enemies in the form of Aishwarya rajesh and KRITHI Shetty... However Aishwarya rajesh met with an accident and is concluded to be dead though her dead body was not recovered, now KRITHI took up the mission of destroying ayyasaami and team...
In between all this we do have another catch in the story.... Jyothi got pregnant multiple times with these guys sperm and also with other guys who visits Daniel brothel... Less known about that children... Only thing known to readers is that, the child born will be taken away by Daniel and is given to some labs for experiments ...
So this is what happened till now in the story... Now story continues...
The next day. The villa’s private room, cleaned and aired, held the same scent of sex and expensive cologne. Priyanka was no longer in the obscene latex. She was just in a yellow towel, thin cotton that did nothing to hide the dark peaks of her nipples or the shadow between her legs. She had slept, eaten lunch, and the raw thrill from last night’s face-fucking had settled into a low, constant hum of anticipation in her cunt. She wasn’t nervous. She was hungry.
Malik, Ayyasaami, and Daniel were already there. No suits today. Loose linen trousers, open shirts. They looked like men on holiday, which they were. Their cocks, thick shapes against the fabric, showed they were ready for the main event.
“No blowjobs today,” Malik announced, his voice a gravelly promise. “Today, we take what we came for.”
Ayyasaami smiled, patting the space on the large, firm divan. “Come here, Priyanka. Let’s not be strangers.”
She walked over, her bare feet silent on the carpet. She didn’t sit. She stood before them, her hands going to the hem of her dress. “Are we talking, or are we fucking?” she asked, her voice blunt, crude. The cop was gone. The slut was in charge.
Daniel chuckled, a normal, masculine sound. “We can do both. Start with a kiss.”
He reached for her, pulling her down onto his lap. His mouth found hers, not with doctorly precision, but with a wet, demanding hunger. His tongue shoved past her lips, tasting her, claiming her. Mmmph. She moaned into it, her hands fisting in his shirt. Malik leaned in from the side, capturing her lips next, his kiss rougher, his stubble scraping her chin. Then Ayyasaami, his lips softer but his tongue just as invasive. It was a messy, rotating gangbang of mouths, spit slicking their chins, her head turned this way and that, a toy for their lips. Slurp. Schlick. She loved it. She was the center of their universe, a filthy star.
“Get this off,” Malik grunted, yanking at her towel. She did as said...
. She was naked. Exposed. Her full breasts swayed, her dark nipples hard beads. The neat triangle of hair at her mound was damp already.
“Look at that cunt,” Ayyasaami breathed, his fingers tracing her outer lips. “Soaked for us already. You’re a cheap, eager thing, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yes I am,” Priyanka panted, spreading her legs wider where she sat on Daniel’s lap, his hard cock pressing against her ass. “I’m your cheap slut. Your **censored** cocksleeve. Fucking use me.”
Malik moved first. He stood, his trousers dropping. His cock, long and thick, slapped against his stomach. He grabbed Priyanka by the hair, not gently, and guided her mouth to it. “Suck it good, whore. Get it nice and wet for your cunt.”
She obeyed, taking the head between her lips, swirling her tongue, coating his shaft with her spit. Glrk. Schlllp. She deep-throated him, her eyes watering, the stretch of her jaw delicious. “That’s it,” Malik groaned. “Such a good fucking mouth.”
Meanwhile, Ayyasaami had shifted behind her. His hands gripped her hips, his thick tip nudged at her soaked entrance. “Ready for me, you dirty girl?”
“Yes! Fuck me, Minister! Shove that big cock in my cheap pussy!” she cried, the words muffled around Malik’s dick.
He did. With one solid, relentless thrust, Ayyasaami buried himself to the hilt inside her. Squelch. Priyanka screamed, a raw, animal sound of pleasure. Her cunt was instantly full, stretched wide around his girth. The sensation was blinding, a hot, perfect fullness that melted her brain.
“Oh god, your cunt is divine,” Ayyasaami moaned, beginning to move, slow, deep strokes that scraped her inner walls. “So tight and greedy.”
Malik pulled his cock from her mouth, a string of saliva snapping. “My turn elsewhere.” He moved behind Ayyasaami, his hands spreading Priyanka’s ass cheeks. She felt his blunt, broad head press against her tight, virgin asshole.
She tensed for a second. “Wait… it’s my first…”
“We know,” Daniel said softly from beside her, his hand stroking her hair. “That’s the point. Let go. Be our complete slut.”
Malik spat onto his fingers, rubbed the wetness over her clenched rosette, then pressed. “Relax, bitch. Take it.”
He pushed. The burn was intense, a sharp, tearing stretch as her body fought the invasion. Priyanka cried out, but it wasn’t a scream of pain—it was a guttural moan of ultimate surrender. Uuunnngh! She felt her ring of muscle give way, pop open, and then Malik’s huge cock was sliding deep into her ass, filling a place she never imagined could feel so full, so owned.
“FUCK! MY ASS!” she shrieked, her body trembling between them. Ayyasaami fucking her pussy from behind, Malik fucking her ass, their cocks moving in a brutal, alternating rhythm. Thwap. Squelch. Plap. The sounds were vile, wonderful. Her world narrowed to the twin points of penetration, the searing fullness, the raw friction.
Daniel watched, stroking his own cock, his composure gone, replaced by lust. “Look at her. A true cum dumpster. Taking two cocks like a champion whore.”
Through the haze, the dirty talk flowed, mutual, degrading, intimate.
“Remember… ah!… how we talked about Jyothi?” Ayyasaami grunted, pounding into her sloppy cunt. “The fat pig… loved her big belly… squelch… loved knowing society whispered.”
“She’d rub her tits… ungh… and tell us how the baby kicked when we fucked her,” Malik added, his thrusts in her ass becoming smoother, deeper as she loosened. “Said it was the best feeling… her bastard enjoying the show.”
Priyanka, impaled and mindless, found her voice. “I thought… oh god!… I thought she was pathetic! A cheap cow!” Her confession was ripped from her by a particularly deep stroke from Malik. “But now… fuck!… I get it! The excitement! The… the dirty secret! It’s power!”
“And Tabu?” Daniel asked, his voice tight. “Working in the rain right now… to ruin Krithi. Just for the prize of a filled womb.”
“She’s a driven bitch!” Priyanka screamed, her head thrown back. “She knows what she wants! A baby! A fucking prize! I… I want that too! But… but…”
The fucking didn’t stop. It intensified. They were using her body to have a conversation, her moans their punctuation.
“What do you want, Priyanka?” Ayyasaami demanded, his pace faltering as he neared his peak. “Option A? We fill you now. You get three months to ruin Krithi before you show. Your career is the hostage to your success.”
Malik snarled, his hands bruising her hips. “Option B? You earn it like Tabu. Destroy the girl first, then get your gift.”
Daniel’s hand was a blur on his cock. “Option C? You stay our fun fuck-hole. No strings. No consequences.”
The sensory overload was absolute. Her pussy was a dripping, clenching mess, her ass was on fire with a pleasure so deep it felt like her spine was melting. She could feel both men swelling inside her, their balls slapping against her skin. Slap. Slap. Thwap.
“A!” she shrieked, the decision tearing from her soul. “Fucking do it! Put it in me now! I’ll destroy Krithi! I’ll be the best fucking weapon you have! I’ll hide it… I’ll be your pregnant slut… and then… and then…”
“And then what?” Ayyasaami gasped, on the edge.
“Do I come back?” she begged, tears of ecstasy streaming down her face. “After the year? Do I stay a cop? Or… or do I resign? Do I become something else? Your full-time whore? Your… your breeding pig?”
Malik’s thrusts became punishing. “What do you want to be?”
The climax hit her first. A cataclysmic, whole-body convulsion. Her pussy spasmed around Ayyasaami’s cock, her ass clenched rhythmically on Malik’s. “I WANT TO BE YOURS!” she howled, her vision whiting out. “FUCK MY FUTURE! YOU DECIDE! JUST FILL ME! MAKE ME A MOTHER! MAKE ME YOUR DIRTY SECRET! AAAHHHHH!”
Her scream triggered theirs. With twin, guttural roars, Ayyasaami and Malik erupted inside her, one in her womb, one in her bowels. She felt the hot, liquid pulses, splurt-splurt-splurt, deep in her core, flooding her, claiming her. The sensation of being filled in both holes simultaneously was so profoundly corrupt, so utterly complete, that she sobbed with joy.
They collapsed around her, spent. The room smelled of sex, sweat, and conquest.
Panting, Priyanka lay between them, their seed already leaking from her well-used holes. She looked up at Daniel, who hadn’t come yet. “Your turn, Doctor,” she slurred, a blissed-out smile on her face. “Where do you want your load?”
Daniel looked at Ayyasaami, then Malik. A silent agreement passed between them. He leaned close to Priyanka’s ear, his voice finally shedding its last clinical vestige, pure lust and ownership. “Option A it is. You’re ours now. You’ll destroy Krithi Shetty. You’ll take your leave. And after that year…” he paused, his hand sliding over her flat stomach, where his friends’ cum was now pooling. Priyanka was in trance thinking how she be after 6 months from now
