All characters are above 18 and this story is a work of fiction. It is based on real events that have been woven together into a story. With names and other details changed.
Ch.7) Obedience
Tanya was back to her normal self, relaxed and bitchy, by the time Pooja joined us at 9 AM. The air shifted the moment she stepped inside. Nearly the same routine followed but more naturally now. This time, after Pooja undressed, it was Tanya who fastened a soft leather collar around her neck.
I had already warned Tanya to be mindful and not break my pet.
Tanya began with a slow, commanding exercise in control. She led Pooja on a crawl around the apartment--from the dim curtain-drawn stillness of my bedroom, across the cold tiles of the living room, into the spare room's dust-moted light, and finally past the kitchen. At the balcony door, Tanya paused with her hand on the handle. She cracked it open just enough for a sliver of daylight and the distant hum of the city to slip through, a tantalizing glimpse of the world outside before she shut it again, sealing back our private universe. I lived on first floor so if they went out, they would definitely have be seen by others.
They completed three slow circuits. By the end, Pooja's knees were flushed pink and her palms were grained with the dirt of the floor.
While Tanya and I shared a joint on the sofa, we made Pooja remain squatted on the rug, a quiet living sculpture of control. When the food arrived, I made the girls go into the bedroom. Jitender's hope filled face greeted me at the door, his eyes darting past me, searching for flesh. There was no performance for him today. I simply took the bags and closed the door on his disapproving world.
Tanya and I ate on the bed, with soft sheets beneath us. Eating burgers and nachos while teasing each other a bit extra for our audience, Pooja. Who remained silent and ate on the floor. Sexual energy building in all three of us as our game continued. We even gave Pooja a steel bowl instead of a regular plate to further add depth to her submission.
After our bellies were filled and our brain high on weed, Tanya guided Pooja's tongue between her pussy lips. There was no hesitation. The sex was already built up and ready to explode. We all had even eaten at a faster pace than usual. Pooja's tongue darted in and out in quick succession, stopping to lap everything up from her hole to her clit. Cleaning her with a focus that was both tender and absolute after a long, hot piss. Obviously without washing the area. I followed, reclining on the bed next to Tanya, watching the concentrated devotion on Pooja's face as she attended to Tanya, before finally switching to me.
She licked us clean, one by one, from head to toe, ears, armpits, pubic area and our ass-valleys, as we lounged in post-meal satiation, becoming her entire world. This is one thing we had learnt, as we were having a lot of sex those days, to prolong the release till we were ready to burst.
Later after another joint had passed between us, Tanya made Pooja shave her in the washroom. She worked with a trimmer, her movements careful and slow. First the armpits, then the soft mound of her pussy, and finally--Tanya turning onto her hands and knees and spreading her cheeks--the delicate skin of her ass, which Pooja made smooth. A simple-daily act turned mesmerizing with lust.
The energy built steadily, a palpable current connecting the three of us.
When the sex finally burst forth, it was a hungry exchange of urgency and command. I positioned them both on their knees on the edge of the bed, as part of an instrument for my playing. With Pooja arched over Tanya's back, her smooth spine a bridge between them, I moved between them, guiding myself without hands. The air was thick with the smell of their musk. I alternated strokes--one deep thrust into Pooja's tight warmth, then a wet withdrawal and a driving push into Tanya's wet pussy. Each stroke was a pleasure of different textures--Pooja's snug grip, Tanya's deeper softness. My rhythm was incessant, only punctuated by their gasps and flailing hands from uncontrollable emotions.
I felt my control fraying. When I was finally about to cum, I withdrew from Tanya's body and guided myself to Pooja's mouth. She took me in, her lips milking my tip as her tongue swirled on my piss-hole, just as I liked it best, as my semen shot deep into her throat. Obviously, she fucking swallowed it all, her eyes locked on mine in a look of raw demand.
Tanya was yet to satisfied. Her need was still blazing in her cunt. She forcefully nudged Pooja onto her back and dove her face between Pooja's thighs, her tongue wildly lapping up every last trace of my pre-cum mixed with their fluids inside her pussy. Pooja cried out unable to fucking bear the intensity of desire from Tanya, her body soon shaking with waves of pleasure.
But once was not enough, fire in my cock had not subsided. It still burned begging me to be back in someone. And when I looked at them--Tanya's skin still flushed a deep rose demanding release, Pooja's breath still coming in open-mouthed gasps as she still trembled from her last cum--I knew they weren't done either. The hunger in their souls was a mirror of my own.
What followed was another round of raw beastly fucking. We were all trapped in a cycle of desire that remained unsatiated, no matter how far we pushed our boundaries. And believe me I pushed them beyond the limits of what they had ever thought was possible. Our sex was like chasing the dragon each day.
Tanya's nails dug deep, on my back as I took her in missionary, her teeth finding the muscle of my shoulder and biting down hard. Pooja watched for a few moments before joining. Her wet mouth was on my neck, her hands roaming over Tanya's thick body--kneading her breasts, pinching her nipples, slipping down to her clit to stroke her in time with my thrusts, as if learning the source of another woman's pleasure under my command. She controlled Tanya's breath as Tanya had controlled hers.
We moved in a desperate tangle of limbs a cycle that went for a while. Each thrust, pushed us further into a bottomless pit. Our awareness as humans faltered as sex consumed us. The sounds we made were filthy--skin against skin, thick gasps, cries of pleasure, smacking of skin, and wet sounds of coupling, Tanya's high-pitched shouts of curses in Hindi and Pooja's broken whimpers as we both slapped her ass.
We didn't stop until the harsh afternoon light began to soften and bleed into a bruised evening purple. Until Pooja, moving like she was in a dream, finally gathered her scattered clothes and murmured her goodbye slipping away for home half-heartedly, "I'll send pictures tonight. Tanya will want them.
The day had not ended: Pooja was technically still Tanya's toy and Tanya wanted to derive as much filthy pleasure as she could.
Later, Tanya and I lay naked and completely spent in the hazy, gloom of the room, bedsheet ruined beneath us. The air pungent with the mingled scents of sex, weed, and tobacco smoke. We dozed off hugging tightly in a deep embrace, before the stickiness drove us to a hot shower together. Steam rose around us. Tanya's eyes held a dark amusement again as she watched me lather her back, her hips, and her thighs. This girl had owned men before. But in me, she'd found someone who didn't break before her--who took her deeper to places she didn't know she could go. And in Pooja... in Pooja, she'd found another kind of power. A pleasure in owning a fellow female, her sexual competitor.
"What do you want to eat?" she asked, her voice a low murmur against my chest as the water sluiced between our pressed bodies.
"Dal makhani. Garlic naan."
"No burgers?" she teased, her hand sliding down my stomach.
"Nope, don't even think about it. You know what happened at the college right. Let me plan this well."
She laughed, turning so the water hit her back, her hands working soap between her thighs, over her ass. "I'm still wet. Still want to do more. What should we make Pooja do tonight? She can't leave the house... but maybe the terrace?"
My hand slid between her ass-cheeks, mirroring her movements. "We are not going to hurt her bitch. She's not like us; she is a nice girl. She stays in our games because it feels good to her--not because she's twisted."
Tanya arched into my touch. "I'll make her do something filthy. Any suggestions?"
I thought, my fingers tracing her tight asshole. "We've had her naked in living room. Balcony and windows are a no-no, I don't want her to get caught. We have to think of something more sexual within the apartment."
After that we forgot about Pooja, our pet slipping from my minds, replaced by the taste of Tanya's mouth. Our kiss was deep, tongues tangling with building desire that made my cock swell against her ass. I cupped her face, holding her there as we breathed each other in, and for the first time, it didn't feel like lust--it felt like love, like two bodies finally surrendering to what had been simmering for too long.
But we didn't fuck. We began another game of holding sex in.
After shower we got properly dressed, with jackets and warmers and headed out into the foggy Delhi night.
The streets of Amar Colony were nearly empty, the night air thick with the lingering scent of dew. I parked infront of our usual Indian spot, my Audi purring to a halt under the sickly yellow glow of a streetlamp. A few couples huddled at plastic tables, and groups of men loitered, their only objective to check out girls. Food was served to us in our car, my Audi made sure that waiter rushed to get my order, his hopes for a higher tip making him humbler than he was for others.
Windows up. Heat on. A low, sultry Spanish jazz wrapped around us, the saxophone weeping over a slow bassline. We ate: crisp garlic naan, creamy daal makhni, sharp mint sauce. The whiskey came next--two heavy pegs poured by Tanya, burning down our throats, smoothing the edges of the day. I felt my body relax into the leather seat, warmth spreading through my stomach to my limbs, the tiredness in my muscles beginning to dissolve.
We texted Pooja.
What are you doing?
Her reply came quickly: About to have dinner with my aunt's family.
Tanya's fingers flew over her phone with a wicked smile. Go to dinner without your bra. And keep a pen between your ass cheeks the whole time.
Okay, Pooja replied.
Seconds later, two photos appeared.
Sitting in the bathroom with a pen.
Taken from above in a tiled bathroom, her white panties and white pajama pooled around her knees. Stuck between the valley of her bare ass the tip of a blue ballpoint pen peeking out.
We laughed--charged with mischief. Excitement pulsed back into the cabin, our loins grew tense.
"I want you to remove your fucking panties and give them to me," I said, my voice low. We had finished eating. Our second glass of whiskey was nearly gone. It was just past nine, and the street was still--a few stray walkers, the tall boundary wall on her side, the dimly lit apartment balconies on mine. The risk was slim: we were in an SUV, hidden bottom down. Unless someone stopped and stared. Unless the waiter returned. Unless a curious eye looked down from a balcony above.
Tanya's wrapped the leftover food in a rustling plastic bag, wiped her hands clean on a tissue, and then, her eyes locking with mine, she unzipped her long black jacket. The sound was loud in the tension of the moment. She never broke eye contact as her fingers went to her belt. A metallic clink of the buckle opening. Her gaze flicked to the windshield, checking the empty street, then back to me, dark with tease.
She yanked the button of her jeans open. A rasp of the zipper being drawn down, slowly, was obscenely loud. I watched, my breath still, as she lifted her hips off the leather seat. She pushed the denim down her ass, down her thighs, pushing them to her ankles. The air in the car grew stood, the only sound her soft breath and the now distant moan of the saxophone. She kicked off her shoes, one then the other, and wriggled until the jeans was a puddle on the floor. She looked around once more. Then she looked at me, a slow wicked smile spreading across her lips as she glanced up through the windshield at the indifferent world.
That's when she saw him. The waiter. Emerging from the glow of the restaurant door, heading our way. A jolt of adrenaline shot through the car. It was a fucking blessing that she still had her leg warmer on. With them, she just looked like any other girl in leggings, nothing out of the ordinary. My heart hammered against my ribs as he approached the window.
I rolled it down a fraction, the cool night air rushing in. "Some pakoras and cutlets," I said, my voice remarkably steady. "Take home." He nodded and left, gifting us another fifteen minutes of seclusion.
The moment he disappeared inside, the tension snapped back, hotter. Tanya didn't wait. She lifted her hips again, and this time hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black cotton panties. She pulled them down, taking the leg warmers with them in one swift motion, baring herself completely into the light flowing from the street.
The sight was stark and beautiful: the white perfect ass, the deep cleft between them, and lower, the intimate folds of her pussy now exposed to the cool air and my ever-starving gaze.
I couldn't wait. My hand was on her ass instantly, palming the full curve of her right cheek, squeezing forcefully. The soft flesh yielded, faint dimples of cellulite flowing under my grip. My thumb strayed, pressing against the tight wrinkled asshole nestled between her cheeks, feeling her jolt at the intimate contact. She gasped, then laughed--a breathy sound of pure complicity--and handed me the wisp of black fabric, damp at the right spot.
I brought them to my face, burying my nose in the cotton, and inhaled deeply-At the damp spot and at the spot which had been buried in her cheeks. Her scent--musky and sweet--flooded my senses, a direct connection to my primal nerve, a smell I could now guess in a pool of 10 anonymous asses. Holding the panties up for a moment, a flag of conquest for the unseen world outside, I then tossed them onto the dashboard, where they lay like a trophy.
She was already moving, pulling the warmers back up her long legs with efficient speed, covering the exquisite skin she'd just revealed, the fabric sliding snugly over skin. The act of concealment was almost more erotic than the exposure.
We left shortly after collecting the food, the paper bag fragrant and greasy on the backseat. As I turned the wheel to exit the quiet street, I took her damp panties from the dash, rolled down the window just an inch, and let them slip from my fingers. They fluttered, before disappearing onto the dark asphalt behind us--a secret trophy left for some horny guy to find later.
My phone buzzed. A message from Pooja: Task complete.
I showed it to Tanya. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. I typed back, my fingers flying: Proof. Put it in your ass and show us.
The drive home was a blur of streetlights and simmering tension. Tanya's hand rested high on my thigh, her thumb tracing slow circles just beneath the seam of my jeans. It was broken only when red and blue lights flashed at us.
A traffic stop.
A bored cop shone his flashlight, took my license, then named his price with a tired smile. The cop never knew of the wet patch on her leg warmer. Three hundred rupees changed hands in the shadows, a small toll. We drove on, the night swallowing us whole, the taste of risk and her still on my tongue.
Once home, we didn't make it past the doorway. I pushed her against the wall, my mouth kissing hers, my hands already pulling at her clothes. But my phone vibrated again--a insistent pulse against my thigh.
I pulled back, breathless. One picture from Pooja.
The camera was propped, looking down the length of her body. She was naked, her back arched against the dark sheets. Her skin gleamed under a single white light. One hand was tangled in her own hair, pulling her head back to expose the taut line of her throat. The other was behind her, fingers splayed across the swell of her own ass, holding herself open.
And there, poking from her ass-cheeks, was the pen.
Not just resting. Impaled.
The thick, black barrel was sunk deep into her asshole, a quarter of its length still visible, jutting out obscenely. The metal was wet. You could see the tension in her thighs, the way her back muscles corded with the effort of holding the pose. It was an image of complete penetration. A preview of me owning her soul.
I stretched naked over Tanya, our favorite position--my body pressed against her back, skin to skin, my cock hard, nestled between the soft cradle of her ass cheeks. We weren't moving yet, just breathing in sync, waiting for the static between us to build into a storm.
Our phone lay glowing beside us. Pooja waited, obedient as always for our command.
"Say what you want her to do," Tanya whispered, her voice rough with anticipation.
We started simple.
We made Pooja spread her thighs wide under the harsh glare of her bedroom light, showing us the smooth shaved expanse of her pussy, already dripping wet. We made her take a black marker and write Tanya's name in cursive across her soft pussy lips. Another form of domination which I am sure Pooja enjoyed.
We had her move through naked yoga poses--downward dog, her hips high, her cunt opened wide, then a shaky warrior pose. Pranayam. Vajrasana. But stillness bored us. We craved risk and drama.
"Turn off your lights," Tanya typed. "Stand by the window. Show yourself to your colony."
A pause. Then a shadowy photograph materialized: Pooja, a pale silhouette against the bruised orange glow of the city night, completely naked, her form a ghost against the lit buildings behind her.
I grinded my cock against Tanya, feeling her squirm in response. The head of my cock pressing on the rough skin of her asshole, my pre-cum wetting it.
"Now squat," I typed, taking the phone. "Two pens. One in your pussy, one in your ass."
The image that came back was obscene--a spread-open arch, her body lowered in a deep squat, one blue plastic pen buried to the hilt in her wet cunt, another, a black one, protruding from her tight asshole. Tanya moaned a hungry sound, and pressed back against me, her ass clenching around my cock.
"Go to the kitchen," Tanya commanded, her nails digging into my thigh. "No panties. Just that sweatshirt and pajamas. Get water while your aunt's family watches TV. But don't get caught."
We waited.
Seconds bled into a minute. Silence.
Deeply frustrated now and buzzing with unslaked need, I slid my cock from the wet-hot depths of Tanya's ass cheeks with a groan. We didn't speak, we knew we had to climb a mountain before the release. We rose together, both of us naked in the hot bedroom air, and moved silently to the living room--which was already warm.
We sank into the deep couch, the plush cushions cool against my back. Tanya curled in front of me, her bare skin sliding against mine, her round her ass pressing deliberately against my still-hard cock. My arms wrapping around her to cup her thick breasts. We pulled the thick, wool blanket over us--a cocoon of love and secrecy--and flicked on the TV.
Then--a vibration.
Done. Came Pooja's reply.
How was it. We asked. Tanya felt me twitch against her.
The reply came in punctuated bursts. They made me sit with them. Aunt wanted to discuss something. I was afraid of leaking through my pajamas. I thought they'd see the stain. I am fucking horny. Make me bitch pleaseee. Use me.