The weight of his failure was a physical thing, a cold stone in Monu’s gut. Priya watched him from their small kitchen table, her heart aching as he ran a hand through his hair for the tenth time that evening. The promotion was gone. Again. His boss, Mr. Agarwal, had given it to someone else with a smug, dismissive wave of his hand.“He didn’t even give a reason,” Monu muttered, his voice thick with a fatigue that went deeper than bone. “Just said my ‘performance metrics’ weren’t aggressive enough. What does that even mean? I work twice as hard as anyone in that office.”Priya’s lush curves, usually a source of his immense pride, now felt like a taunt. He works so hard to give me everything, she thought, and that pig Agarwal leers at me at every company party while stabbing my husband in the back. A resolve, cold and sharp, settled within her. She would not let this stand.She didn’t tell Monu. He would never allow it. The next afternoon, she dressed with a purpose, choosing a simple saree that hugged her hips and accentuated the full, round shape of her ass that she knew the boss admired a little too openly. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood before the ornate door of his private villa.Mr. Agarwal opened the door himself, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes traveled over her body with utter familiarity. “Priya. What an unexpected… pleasure. Come in.”The study was all dark wood and leather, smells of expensive cigars and arrogance. He didn't offer her a seat.“My husband—” she began, her voice steadier than she felt.“—is a mediocre accountant with a spectacular wife,” he finished for her, circling her like a predator. “You’re here because I’ve been denying him his promotion. You want to… negotiate?”“Please, sir. He deserves it. He works so hard.”Agarwal stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Hard work is cheap, my dear. Loyalty, however… that is rare. I’ll give him the promotion, the corner office, the full package. But not for his hard work. For your loyalty.”“What do you mean?”His smile was thin and cruel. “You become my thing. My property. For one week. I am your Master. You do not question, you do not refuse. You serve. Or your husband’s ‘hard work’ will ensure he’s cleaning toilets by this time next week. Do you understand?”The air left her lungs. She saw Monu’s tired, defeated face. She thought of their future. A week of hell for a lifetime of his happiness. Her voice was a whisper. “Yes.”“Yes, what?”She swallowed, the words ash in her mouth. “Yes… Master.”“Good girl.” His hands went to his belt. “Now, get on your knees. I want to feel that pretty mouth on my cock.”Her legs trembled as she sank to the expensive Persian rug. The metallic clink of his belt buckle was deafening. He freed himself, and her eyes widened. He was massive, thick and veined, already rock-hard and jutting towards her face. The musky, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils.“Lick it,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Get it nice and wet for your fucking throat.”She hesitated for only a second before leaning forward, her pink tongue tentatively tracing the broad head. She heard his sharp intake of breath. She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting his pre-cum, a salty promise of what was to come.“That’s it, you fucking slut. Get it good and slick.”She was starting to find a rhythm, one hand gently stroking his shaft, when his hands suddenly clamped on the sides of her head. There was no warning. He didn’t thrust; he yanked her forward, driving his entire monstrous length deep into her throat in one brutal, punishing motion.Priya gagged, her eyes watering instantly as her throat was stretched wider than she thought possible. He held her there, impaled, for a long second, letting her choke and struggle for air.“That’s it, take it,” he grunted, and then he began to move. He used her mouth like a pussy, fucking her face with short, savage thrusts that robbed her of breath and dignity. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her makeup smearing. The sounds were obscene: her choked gags, the wet slap of his hips against her lips, his guttural moans.“You love this, don’t you? You love having your husband’s boss use your fucking throat,” he spat, his pace becoming even more frantic, more violent. She could feel him swelling, pulsing against the roof of her mouth. “Gonna piss down that pretty throat. Drink it.”A hot, torrential stream hit the back of her throat. She had no choice, no time to react. She swallowed reflexively, the bitter, warm liquid flooding her mouth and sliding down her constricted esophagus. The moment the flow stopped, his pounding resumed, even harder, driving the taste deeper into her.“Fuck, here it comes, you greedy cunt!” he roared, slamming her face onto him one last time. She felt the hot, thick jets of his cum erupting, flooding her throat, spurting again and again as he held her impaled. He kept fucking her mouth through his orgasm, milking himself dry inside her. When he finally pulled out, she collapsed forward, coughing, strings of cum and saliva dripping from her bruised lips onto the rug.He didn’t give her a moment. He walked to a cabinet and returned with a huge, terrifyingly thick black dildo. “Open up.”Dazed, she complied. He shoved the cold, rubbery thing into her mouth, gagging her. “Suck on that. I want your other hole now.”He shoved her forward, bending her over his desk, papers scattering. Her big, beautiful ass was presented to him. He yanked her saree up, her underwear tearing under his rough hands. He spit on her asshole, a pathetic substitute for lubrication.“Master, please, it’s too dry—” her plea was muffled by the dildo.“I don’t give a fuck,” he snarled, and she felt the broad, blunt head of his cock pressing against her tightest ring of muscle. With a grunt of effort, he pushed, a slow, excruciating invasion that tore a silent scream from her. She wanted to sob, to cry out, but the massive dildo in her mouth stifled all sound into a choked whimper. He buried himself to the hilt in one relentless thrust, stretching her beyond belief.Then the animal fucking began. He pistoned into her ass with a brutal, unforgiving rhythm, each thrust a searing pain that slowly, horrifyingly, began to morph into a deep, shameful throb of pleasure. Her body was betraying her, responding to the raw, physical domination.“This ass is mine now,” he grunted, hammering into her. “Tighter than your cunt. Fuck.” He leaned over her, his breath hot on her ear. “Gonna mark this hole, too.”The hot stream of his piss this time was a shocking violation inside her, filling her, a bizarre and degrading warmth spreading through her bowels. He kept fucking her through it, the wet, sloshing sounds adding to her humiliation. When he finished, he pulled out and she felt horrifyingly empty, used.He produced a bag. An enema bag. “Time to clean my new fuck-hole out.” The nozzle was cold, the water a shocking rush as he filled her. “Hold it. Don’t you dare let a drop out until I say.”He allowed her to remove the dildo from her mouth. She was trembling, on the verge of breaking, her belly cramping. He placed a large glass bowl on the floor between her knees.“Now. Let it all go. Everything. Into the bowl.”Shaking with shame, she obeyed. The warm, soapy water, mixed with his urine, rushed out of her, filling the bowl with the evidence of her degradation.“Good bitch,” he purred. He picked up the bowl and held it to her lips. “Now. Drink it. Eat every last drop. Consider it your first lesson in obedience.”Tears finally fell freely as she brought the bowl to her mouth. The taste was foul, a disgusting cocktail of soap and him. She drank, sobbing quietly, forcing every mouthful down.When she was done, he took the bowl and smiled. “That was just the introduction.” He pulled out two massive, intimidating vibrators, the kind with thick cords and heavy bases. He slicked them with something cold and shoved one roughly into her sore, stretched ass, and the other into her dripping wet cunt, turning them both on to a low, insistent buzz that immediately made her jolt.“You will keep these in,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You will not remove them. You will not cum. You will wait for me. I will be back tomorrow to continue your training. Now, get on your knees and thank your Master.”She sank to the floor, the vibrators humming inside her, a constant, maddening reminder of his ownership. “Th-thank you, Master.”He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I own that perfect ass, Priya. And before this week is out, I’m going to pump my cum so deep into your fertile cunt I’ll own that, too. I’m going to breed you like the bitch you are, and you’re going to thank me for it.” The door clicked shut, leaving her alone on the floor, buzzing, full, and utterly possesseHe turned back abruptly, his eyes dark with a fresh hunger. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back so hard her vision blurred. His lips crashed down on hers in a brutal, suffocating kiss. It wasn’t tender; it was a possession, a claiming. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, dominating every inch of her. She could taste the remnants of his earlier cruelty, bitter and unforgiving, mingling with her own tears.When he finally pulled away, her lips felt swollen, her breath ragged. He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb roughly wiping away a stray tear. “You’ll go home now,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You’ll act like nothing happened. You’ll smile at your husband, cook him dinner, and let him fuck you if he wants. But always remember—you’re mine. Those vibrators inside you? They’re there to remind you of who owns you.”Priya nodded weakly, her body trembling under the weight of his words. He released her with a final, cruel smirk and walked out, leaving her kneeling on the cold floor. The vibrators continued to hum mercilessly, their vibrations a constant, maddening reminder of her submission.She forced herself to stand, her legs unsteady, and adjusted her saree, trying to hide the evidence of her degradation. The walk to the car felt like an eternity, every step a battle against the shame and arousal warring within her. By the time she reached home, she had composed herself enough to plaster on a smile for Monu, though it felt brittle and fragile, like glass ready to shatter.“How was your day?” Monu asked, looking up from the couch with a tired smile.“It was… fine,” she lied, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ll start dinner.”As she moved to the kitchen, the vibrators buzzed louder, a cruel reminder of the secret she now carried. She clenched her teeth, determined to endure. One week, she told herself. Just one week. But deep down, she knew the scars this would leave would last a lifetime.d

The weight of his failure was a physical thing, a cold stone in Monu’s gut. Priya watched him from their small kitchen table, her heart aching as he ran a hand through his hair for the tenth time that evening. The promotion was gone. Again. His boss, Mr. Agarwal, had given it to someone else with a smug, dismissive wave of his hand.

“He didn’t even give a reason,” Monu muttered, his voice thick with a fatigue that went deeper than bone. “Just said my ‘performance metrics’ weren’t aggressive enough. What does that even mean? I work twice as hard as anyone in that office.”

Priya’s lush curves, usually a source of his immense pride, now felt like a taunt. He works so hard to give me everything, she thought, and that pig Agarwal leers at me at every company party while stabbing my husband in the back. A resolve, cold and sharp, settled within her. She would not let this stand.

She didn’t tell Monu. He would never allow it. The next afternoon, she dressed with a purpose, choosing a simple saree that hugged her hips and accentuated the full, round shape of her ass that she knew the boss admired a little too openly. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood before the ornate door of his private villa.

Mr. Agarwal opened the door himself, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes traveled over her body with utter familiarity. “Priya. What an unexpected… pleasure. Come in.”

The study was all dark wood and leather, smells of expensive cigars and arrogance. He didn't offer her a seat.

“My husband—” she began, her voice steadier than she felt.

“—is a mediocre accountant with a spectacular wife,” he finished for her, circling her like a predator. “You’re here because I’ve been denying him his promotion. You want to… negotiate?”

“Please, sir. He deserves it. He works so hard.”

Agarwal stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Hard work is cheap, my dear. Loyalty, however… that is rare. I’ll give him the promotion, the corner office, the full package. But not for his hard work. For your loyalty.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was thin and cruel. “You become my thing. My property. For one week. I am your Master. You do not question, you do not refuse. You serve. Or your husband’s ‘hard work’ will ensure he’s cleaning toilets by this time next week. Do you understand?”

The air left her lungs. She saw Monu’s tired, defeated face. She thought of their future. A week of hell for a lifetime of his happiness. Her voice was a whisper. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

She swallowed, the words ash in her mouth. “Yes… Master.”

“Good girl.” His hands went to his belt. “Now, get on your knees. I want to feel that pretty mouth on my cock.”

Her legs trembled as she sank to the expensive Persian rug. The metallic clink of his belt buckle was deafening. He freed himself, and her eyes widened. He was massive, thick and veined, already rock-hard and jutting towards her face. The musky, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils.

“Lick it,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Get it nice and wet for your fucking throat.”

She hesitated for only a second before leaning forward, her pink tongue tentatively tracing the broad head. She heard his sharp intake of breath. She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting his pre-cum, a salty promise of what was to come.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. Get it good and slick.”

She was starting to find a rhythm, one hand gently stroking his shaft, when his hands suddenly clamped on the sides of her head. There was no warning. He didn’t thrust; he yanked her forward, driving his entire monstrous length deep into her throat in one brutal, punishing motion.

Priya gagged, her eyes watering instantly as her throat was stretched wider than she thought possible. He held her there, impaled, for a long second, letting her choke and struggle for air.

“That’s it, take it,” he grunted, and then he began to move. He used her mouth like a pussy, fucking her face with short, savage thrusts that robbed her of breath and dignity. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her makeup smearing. The sounds were obscene: her choked gags, the wet slap of his hips against her lips, his guttural moans.

“You love this, don’t you? You love having your husband’s boss use your fucking throat,” he spat, his pace becoming even more frantic, more violent. She could feel him swelling, pulsing against the roof of her mouth. “Gonna piss down that pretty throat. Drink it.”

A hot, torrential stream hit the back of her throat. She had no choice, no time to react. She swallowed reflexively, the bitter, warm liquid flooding her mouth and sliding down her constricted esophagus. The moment the flow stopped, his pounding resumed, even harder, driving the taste deeper into her.

“Fuck, here it comes, you greedy cunt!” he roared, slamming her face onto him one last time. She felt the hot, thick jets of his cum erupting, flooding her throat, spurting again and again as he held her impaled. He kept fucking her mouth through his orgasm, milking himself dry inside her. When he finally pulled out, she collapsed forward, coughing, strings of cum and saliva dripping from her bruised lips onto the rug.

He didn’t give her a moment. He walked to a cabinet and returned with a huge, terrifyingly thick black dildo. “Open up.”

Dazed, she complied. He shoved the cold, rubbery thing into her mouth, gagging her. “Suck on that. I want your other hole now.”

He shoved her forward, bending her over his desk, papers scattering. Her big, beautiful ass was presented to him. He yanked her saree up, her underwear tearing under his rough hands. He spit on her asshole, a pathetic substitute for lubrication.

“Master, please, it’s too dry—” her plea was muffled by the dildo.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he snarled, and she felt the broad, blunt head of his cock pressing against her tightest ring of muscle. With a grunt of effort, he pushed, a slow, excruciating invasion that tore a silent scream from her. She wanted to sob, to cry out, but the massive dildo in her mouth stifled all sound into a choked whimper. He buried himself to the hilt in one relentless thrust, stretching her beyond belief.

Then the animal fucking began. He pistoned into her ass with a brutal, unforgiving rhythm, each thrust a searing pain that slowly, horrifyingly, began to morph into a deep, shameful throb of pleasure. Her body was betraying her, responding to the raw, physical domination.

“This ass is mine now,” he grunted, hammering into her. “Tighter than your cunt. Fuck.” He leaned over her, his breath hot on her ear. “Gonna mark this hole, too.”

The hot stream of his piss this time was a shocking violation inside her, filling her, a bizarre and degrading warmth spreading through her bowels. He kept fucking her through it, the wet, sloshing sounds adding to her humiliation. When he finished, he pulled out and she felt horrifyingly empty, used.

He produced a bag. An enema bag. “Time to clean my new fuck-hole out.” The nozzle was cold, the water a shocking rush as he filled her. “Hold it. Don’t you dare let a drop out until I say.”

He allowed her to remove the dildo from her mouth. She was trembling, on the verge of breaking, her belly cramping. He placed a large glass bowl on the floor between her knees.

“Now. Let it all go. Everything. Into the bowl.”

Shaking with shame, she obeyed. The warm, soapy water, mixed with his urine, rushed out of her, filling the bowl with the evidence of her degradation.

“Good bitch,” he purred. He picked up the bowl and held it to her lips. “Now. Drink it. Eat every last drop. Consider it your first lesson in obedience.”

Tears finally fell freely as she brought the bowl to her mouth. The taste was foul, a disgusting cocktail of soap and him. She drank, sobbing quietly, forcing every mouthful down.

When she was done, he took the bowl and smiled. “That was just the introduction.” He pulled out two massive, intimidating vibrators, the kind with thick cords and heavy bases. He slicked them with something cold and shoved one roughly into her sore, stretched ass, and the other into her dripping wet cunt, turning them both on to a low, insistent buzz that immediately made her jolt.

“You will keep these in,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You will not remove them. You will not cum. You will wait for me. I will be back tomorrow to continue your training. Now, get on your knees and thank your Master.”

She sank to the floor, the vibrators humming inside her, a constant, maddening reminder of his ownership. “Th-thank you, Master.”

He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I own that perfect ass, Priya. And before this week is out, I’m going to pump my cum so deep into your fertile cunt I’ll own that, too. I’m going to breed you like the bitch you are, and you’re going to thank me for it.” The door clicked shut, leaving her alone on the floor, buzzing, full, and utterly possesseHe turned back abruptly, his eyes dark with a fresh hunger. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back so hard her vision blurred. His lips crashed down on hers in a brutal, suffocating kiss. It wasn’t tender; it was a possession, a claiming. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, dominating every inch of her. She could taste the remnants of his earlier cruelty, bitter and unforgiving, mingling with her own tears.

When he finally pulled away, her lips felt swollen, her breath ragged. He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb roughly wiping away a stray tear. “You’ll go home now,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You’ll act like nothing happened. You’ll smile at your husband, cook him dinner, and let him fuck you if he wants. But always remember—you’re mine. Those vibrators inside you? They’re there to remind you of who owns you.”

Priya nodded weakly, her body trembling under the weight of his words. He released her with a final, cruel smirk and walked out, leaving her kneeling on the cold floor. The vibrators continued to hum mercilessly, their vibrations a constant, maddening reminder of her submission.

She forced herself to stand, her legs unsteady, and adjusted her saree, trying to hide the evidence of her degradation. The walk to the car felt like an eternity, every step a battle against the shame and arousal warring within her. By the time she reached home, she had composed herself enough to plaster on a smile for Monu, though it felt brittle and fragile, like glass ready to shatter.

“How was your day?” Monu asked, looking up from the couch with a tired smile.

“It was… fine,” she lied, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ll start dinner.”

As she moved to the kitchen, the vibrators buzzed louder, a cruel reminder of the secret she now carried. She clenched her teeth, determined to endure. One week, she told herself. Just one week. But deep down, she knew the scars this would leave would last a lifetime.

d

A desperate wife, Priya, steps into a dangerous bargain with her husband's lecherous boss to secure his promotion, agreeing to a week of brutal BDSM servitude. The boss, a sadistic master, subjects her to a series of degrading acts, including forced oral sex, brutal anal penetration, and humiliating enema play, marking her as his property and setting the stage for a week of intense, non-consensual sexual domination.

Wifes Filthy Breeding Deal for Promotion

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