Chapter 14

The tires of the sleek black sedan crunched over gravel as it pulled away, leaving Samyukta standing alone under the flickering streetlamp. The air bit at her exposed skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. She shivered, though not entirely from the chill—her fingers trembled as they traced the fresh bruises hidden beneath the modest salwar kameez Neha had forced her to wear. The dress clung to her curves, too tight in some places, loose in others, as if designed to make her feel off-balance.

She swallowed hard, the weight of the day pressing down on her chest. Just hours ago, she had been Professor Samyukta Menon, respected educator at the university. Now? Now she was something else entirely. The memory of Neha’s mocking laughter as she knelt on the floor, of Manish’s rough grip twisting her wrist until tears pricked her eyes—it all rushed back in a dizzying wave.

“Rules, Professor,” Neha had purred, tapping a manicured nail against the list. “No body hair—anywhere. You’ll document everything on Xossip, every humiliation, every time you whimper under us. And, of course...” Her smile had turned cruel. “No orgasms without permission.”

The walk home was a blur. Each step sent a dull ache radiating up her thighs from where they had taken turns spanking her, the sharp sting of leather still fresh on her skin. She had protested at first—how could she explain this to Jithin? To her in-laws? But Manish had only laughed, his fingers tightening in her hair. “That’s the fun part,” he murmured against her ear. “You don’t.”

Now, standing outside her own house, she hesitated. The door was open—her mother-in-law would be waiting, frail hands folded in her lap, eyes sharp with unspoken questions. Samyukta inhaled sharply and pushed open the door.

“Ah, you’re back,” her mother-in-law said, glancing up from her knitting. “How was the function?”

Function. As if she’d been at some dull academic gathering, not bent over a desk with Neha’s fingers inside her while Manish watched, stroking himself lazily.

“It was ... fine,” Samyukta lied, forcing a smile. “Just some networking.”

She hurried past before more questions could follow, her pulse pounding in her throat. The bedroom was empty—Jithin’s absence didn’t surprise her anymore. His side of the bed was neatly made, untouched. She pulled out her phone, fingers hovering over his contact. But what would she say? I can’t sleep with you without a condom now?