Sunday. No visitors. No outings. No mercy. Just me, her, and the machines I was going to use to erase whatever was left of the girl she used to be. I woke up at 5:47 a.m. with her mouth already stretched impossibly wide around my cock, throat convulsing

I woke up to the sound of her muffled, desperate whining against my cock. Sometime in the night she had managed to worm her way down the bed again, mouth stretched wide around my shaft, sucking gently in her sleep like it was the only thing keeping her sane. The

I woke up to her cunt spasming around my cock and her throat raw from screaming silently into the pillow all night. The new remote vibrating plug — black silicone, 3 inches wide at the base, viciously curved to hammer her g-spot from inside her ass — had been pulsing on the

I woke up to the sound of the delivery bell at 6:12 a.m. and the feeling of her throat already convulsing around my morning wood. She had learned fast — sometime in the night she had wriggled down the bed as far as the short collar chain would allow,

I woke up hard and angry inside her cunt. The inflatable plug I’d locked in her ass last night was pumped to its absolute maximum — I had added three more pumps right before sleep just to hear her silent sob into the pillow. All night she had whimpered in

I woke before dawn with my cock already buried balls-deep in her throat. She had slept exactly as ordered: wrists cuffed to her collar in permanent prayer position, body spooned against mine, collar chain locked short to the headboard so she couldn’t move more than a few inches. All

I’m 28, hustling through the chaos of Bengaluru as the founder of this little edtech startup that’s got me glued to my laptop from dawn till the auto-rickshaws start honking outside my HSR apartment at midnight. Life’s a blur of investor calls, buggy code, and filter coffee