All characters are above 18 and this story is a work of fiction.
Some clarification: - While some parts of the story series are true, at the end it is a fictionalized story.
Enjoy. Cheers.
Ch. 9) Human greed makes us do things
The game began on Thursday 22nd March. After a month of meticulous planning, I was ready for my conquest. I was hyped up, craving to prove myself by this stupid challenge. This was my version of attempting greatness.
Since last week I had laid off alcohol, porn and sex. Building up my testosterone like a excitement meter. I meditated two hours a day as sobriety from sex compelled me to look within. Like a sex addict going through withdrawal but in reality, my mind was filled with images of warm and coarse holes.
The day began all lazy. I allowed myself to sleep till 10AM, waking up to my muscles tight as a Porshe racing on the highway. My cock stood with an aching; it had gotten so used to release that it had been hard for the past 48 hours. But I didn't relent. It was just a game for me.
I did pushups, like every day, to calm my lust before going for a run. Only after that could I relax. I took a shower and headed out.
Even at 11AM the roads were busy, people clamoring around to make money (I was lucky I didn't have to do that), lies unfolding from lips webbing into scams. Heartbreaks, hunger, human and animal filth filled the city like any other Indian city. But I was free. Free from the chaos of Delhi. Free from the struggles that my fellow 1.5 billion Indian had to live through.
I cruised my car around the city. Soaking in the people, their lives. After what happened in my hometown, Delhi had become my home. I felt alive. So, I spent the whole day like that enjoying the pleasure of doing nothing.
Finally, around 9 PM, Saurabh came to pick me up.
I dressed as I usually did: a red and white leather jacket, tight black jeans, red sports shoes.
My balls felt really heavy as we picked up Payal outside her hostel. She sat silently into the backseat, her eyes avoiding ours. We drove to a cozy bar in Khan Market, its open balcony overlooking the quiet street. We started with whiskey sours, the sharp tang of the cocktail made it perfect. It paired well with Texas burgers--thick patties dripping with cheese--and crisp onion rings.
The conversation between us was easy, arrogant and full of laughter. Payal stayed in the silent corner of it all, sipping her drink, her eyes lost somewhere, probably wondering, with a mix of dread and excitement, what we had planned for her.
We drank until 11:30, the alcohol filling us with more arrogance as if we had a dearth of it.
We piled into Saurabh's Honda and I drove. Saurabh and Satyam climbed into the back, playing with a now-topless Payal between them. Her open jacket was the only thing covering her upper body, her perky breasts glowing in the passing streetlights. Her blue leggings clung to her legs. As I drove, my eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror. Each man had a nipple in his mouth while Payal's head was thrown back against the seat in pleasure.
By 11:50 (10 minutes to the beginning of the challenge), I pulled into the college parking lot. The guard, Mohan, was waiting, a silhouette in his booth. He hurried to swing the gate open. A bottle of whiskey a month was his usual bribe for turning a blind eye. But tonight, we had promised him more.
Once inside the secluded lot, I looked back. Payal was already completely naked, spread across the backseat like a platter. The guys had not entered her--that honor was reserved for me. I didn't waste time. I parked in the darkest corner and moved to the back as the two men shifted to the front seats.
Outside, the campus was dark, empty and silent.
Satyam and Saurabh started mixing drinks from the bar kit in the front. I checked my phone: 11:52 PM. Eight minutes until my dare officially began. Saurabh was grinning, more excited than I was.
I took out my phone. I made Payal lean back against the seat and spread her legs wide open for a photo. I captured her--Her dumb, blissed-out smile, eyes glazed in ecstasy.
A knock came at the front passenger window. Mohan, the guard, was peering in, his face pressed close to the glass, trying to see inside.
Saurabh rolled down the window.
Payal instantly ducked her head into my lap to hide her identity, as we'd promised her we would. The cold night air rushed in, smelling of damp grass.
Mohan's gaze jumped from Satyam to Saurabh, then to me, before dropping down to the head of a woman buried in my lap. His eyes widened with anticipation. He folded his hands in a pleading namaste.
"Mohan Bhai, wait a bit," I said (in Hindi), my voice calm. "Wait for us to be done."
I leaned forward, reaching over Payal's bowed head. My fingers brushed the floor mat, searching until they found the damp blue panties. I picked them up. I didn't glance at Mohan. I tossed the panties to Saurabh.
"Mohan bhai," I said. "Wear it on your face. Smell them. If you want this chut(pussy) tonight, show us how badly you want it."
Saurabh handed the small garment through the window crack. Mohan snatched it. Without hesitation, he pressed the crotch of the panties to his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes closing in a grotesque pantomime of worship. When his eyes opened again, they were burning with raw desire for the naked woman in the backseat. He then proceeded to wear them over his head like a cap.
"Smell, smell Mohan dear, soon you will smell her ass too," I croaked, taunting him further.
We all laughed--even Payal, her muffled giggle vibrating against my hardening cock through the denim. I bent forward, phone in hand, and snapped a picture of the guard for my future amusement.
Making sure the guard was still watching I unzipped my jeans. Took out my cock from my underwear and motioned in into her lips. Then I let my head fall back against the seat, watching Mohan watch her as she sucked me.
"Come to this window," I commanded, lowering Payal's window fully.
Mohan moved like a man in a trance, drawn by desire.
He saw her hungrily as I made Payal bend over on the backseat with her bare ass high in the air towards the guard. Making sure the moonlight shone on her open ass-crack. He could have reached out and touched her. But he didn't dare. He was a slave to our authority, just as Payal was a slave to the iPhone 5 I'd promised her for that night.
After he'd drunk in the sight long enough, I spoke again. "Mohan ji, wait by the college door, wear her panties and come when we call you on your cell."
He left with a stiff, hurried bow.
As a fresh stream of cold night air poured through the window as Payal doubled down on her sucking. I checked my phone, the screen showed: 12:02 AM. Two notifications from Pooja glowed which I ignored.
The game, in all its layers, had begun.
I nudged Payal's hip. "Reverse. Ass to me. Face the window."
She obeyed, pivoting clumsily on the leather until she was on her hands and knees, her back to me, her face turned toward the open car door and the dark campus beyond. I moved my body behind hers, my chest to her sweat-slicked spine. With one hand, I hooked under her thigh, lifting and spreading her wide. With the other, I guided myself into her wet entrance.
Her cunt was very wet and loose. I barely felt the grip of her walls as I began to move in-and-out. Yet, even with this slack muscle, the pressure I'd built over a week of deprivation was too much. By the third stroke my balls were tight. As I pulled out for the fourth, I stopped and shot my cum across her ass cheeks, even splattering the cool leather seats. My face buried into her neck, smelling her shampoo and her sweat as I shuddered through the release.
I spent more time enjoying the post-cum pulsing than I had spent inside her.
We lay there, joined the wet mess between us, for a few heavy seconds. My body slowly went slack.
Satyam then passed a glass over her prone form--whiskey and water. Our three glasses clicked together just above Payal's neck, droplets of alcohol splashing down onto her skin and tracing paths through the sheen on her face. I held my phone aloft and took a picture from above: the three glasses in a triumphant circle, and below them, Payal's face, turned sideways, eyes closed, cheek pressed to the seat, wet with spilled whiskey.
I cleaned myself with a dupatta we'd brought for her anonymity, then used it to wipe Saurabh's leather seats. Payal sat up, her face and hair damp with whiskey, a wild-complicit grin on her. Satyam handed her a glass, which she drained in one hurried swallow.
I then handed the soiled dupatta to Payal. Without a word, she wrapped it around her head like a blindfold, tying it at the back, leaving only her eyes and mouth exposed, her dark hair tucked neatly away.
That was where the night truly began. It was no longer about a few strokes inside a woman but about domination and its depravity.
In the biting cold of a March night, Payal stepped out of the car naked, save for the dupatta. We all emerged, our breath pluming in the air. Saurabh called Mohan over. The guard scuttled from the shadows, first checking the huge iron campus gate was locked, then hurrying toward us. (This was a time before CCTV cameras infested every corner. Our only concern was the distant glow of apartment balconies; we kept the car lights off, cloaked ourselves in the deep shadow of the old banyan tree.)
Mohan halted a few feet away, waiting.
"Bend over," I told Payal, my voice flat.
She bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees, presenting herself to me. I cracked open a can of beer. Tilting it, I poured the cold liquid in a stream over the crest of her ass, washing my drying semen from her skin in a foamy cascade that dripped into the dirt between her feet.
"Come, Mohan," I commanded, motioning him closer. "Have some beer."
He didn't hesitate as I had expected. He dropped to his knees in the cold earth, his once-blue security jacket stained and grey. In the near-total darkness, only the dome of his bald head caught a faint gleam as he leaned forward. His nose and lips pressed into Payal's wet behind, burying themselves in the ass-cheeks I had just cleaned.
We had promised him a girl from the college--a 19-year-old's pussy for a 50-year-old man. Our conditions were her anonymity, and our right to record everything, ensuring his silence with the threat of the video.
He began to lap his tongue, chasing the beer from her crevices. Soon, he found her pussy, and his probing grew deeper. A muffled moan escaped from behind Payal's dupatta. She wasn't used to being serviced. She was used to being used.
The three of us formed a silent circle around the spectacle. I held my phone up, the video flash piercing the darkness.
Satyam moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing down, forcing her spine into a deeper arch until her palms were flat in the dirt. Mohan buried himself deeper as her ass opened wider.
We laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet night, and mixed another glass of whiskey. As I took a burning sip, I looked down at the man consumed by his task, enjoying the show I had orchestrated. Two willing players joined by my design.
"Mohan," Satyam said, his voice calm. "Put a finger in her asshole. And don't take it out."
He obeyed instantly. Without hesitation, his work-calloused hand shifted. A dirt-creased index finger found its target: Payal's tight clenched asshole. He pushed it all the way in and buried it in her forbidden warmth. Then he froze as we had commanded like statue of submission. The most profound form of domination is not starving someone, but forcing him to hold perfectly still with food on the tip of his tongue.
We made our pegs with deliberate slowness, liquid splashing loudly against the whimpers from Payal's bent body while the college guard frozen behind her, his finger her butt plug.
"Get naked," I commanded, my voice flat. "Now."
He scrambled to obey, unplugging her asshole as he started fumbling with his worn trousers and shirt and then Payal's panties underneath. As he dislodged his finger, Payal too straightened up, hurrying over to the car for another glass of whiskey.
Mohan stood revealed. His body was a testament to neglect: a swollen pot belly that hung over his crotch, thin arms, a bald head gleaming with sweat despite the chill. His erection, pitiful, almost hidden by the mound of his stomach and a greying thicket of pubic hair. Five inches of veined flesh. He was everything the city tried to hide--the grime of millions who fed the city but remained unnoticed in its underbelly.
Payal was apprehensive as I talked to her. She had agreed to fuck a servant if her anonymity was guaranteed but now, I could see her having second thoughts. It takes another kind of depravity to venture into filthy sex. And I saw that hers stopped at being a toy for rich kids. She would suck cock, put her tongue inside assholes only if they belonged to guys with cash who showered her with her rent money.
But still, I wanted to see how far she was willing to go. No pressure, just an offer.
Fuck it, I thought.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my whisper something only the two of us could hear. "Apart from the iPhone, I will give you ten thousand to lick his ass-crack, put your tongue into his asshole and drive him crazy as you do to me. Another ten thousand to lick clean his nipples, his armpits, his neck and his ears. Plus, ten thousand if you suck his dick, clean his balls and his crotch. And another twenty thousand if you ride him raw, without condom," I let that sink in for a second before continuing, "And another twenty if you take his cum from your pussy into your mouth and make him drink it. No pressure it is completely your choice. We can leave now if you want."
There was no way she would no to 70k cash. I knew it and she knew it. 7 months of rent, that is what I had offered her.
She needed no more motivation.
She walked to Mohan, who stood shivering, his eyes wide with want. She pushed him forward, bending him over the hood of the Honda, his ass thrust into the air. She knelt behind him, her hands spreading his black hairy cheeks apart, revealing his dark asshole.
She began.
Her tongue, that same skilled muscle that had worshipped us, now embarked on a profane pilgrimage. She licked a broad wet stripe from the base of his spine down through the valley of his ass, over his perineum. Then she focused, her face buried between his cheeks, her tongue pointed and lapping at his hole, circling it, before pressing forward and breaching it. Mohan jerked as if electrocuted, a choked gasp ripped from his throat. She worked him with a thorough dedication, her tongue plunging and retreating, coating him in her saliva, claiming a territory no woman had likely ever touched.
She rose, guiding his dazed form to the open car door, bending him over the seat. She knelt again, her mouth returning to its task, her nose pressed against his skin, her tongue delving deeper. He whimpered, his knuckles gripped the leather, his body caught between shame and a pleasure so profound it bordered on agony. She thoroughly cleaned it as I had instructed. Making sure I had no excuse to get back on my words.
He squirmed and panted but she was not done.
As he stood trembling, she attended to his chest. She took one of his small dark nipples into her mouth, sucking and biting it, then moved to the other, slapping his hand away when it drifted toward his own twitching cock. She lifted his arms one by one, exposing the dense matted hair of his armpits--sour with the accumulated sweat of a full day's labor. She cleaned them with long slow strokes of her tongue, swallowing the filth.
She laved his neck, her tongue tracing the grimy lines of his collarbone, then took his earlobe between her teeth before sliding the very tip of her tongue into his ear. He sank to his knees then, a low broken moan escaping him, a prayer to a god he'd probably forgotten.
She forced him up. He obeyed. She forced his thighs apart and knelt before him. She took his short, thick cock into her mouth, engulfing him to the root, her throat working around him. She cleaned his heavy balls, nuzzling through the coarse pubic hair, then moved lower, her tongue seeking out the crease where his legs met his torso, lapping at years of ingrained dirt from his menial labor.
He was beyond words, lost in a sensory overload he could never have imagined. His eyes were shut tight, his head lolling back, every muscle slack with surrender and pleasure.
She led him to the backseat, pushing him down onto. He lay back, legs splayed. Payal climbed atop him, positioned herself, and with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, sheathed him inside her raw warmth. My phone had been recording since the beginning, a silent witness. She rode him with a mechanical efficient rhythm, her back arched, her breasts swaying. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, something I had not offered to pay for, she bent forward and shoved her tongue deep into his mouth, kissing him as she fucked him.
It was over in less than a minute. A series of broken animal cries were torn from Mohan's throat as he came, his body arching off the seat, pumping his release deep inside her.
With the cold practicality of a prostitute, Payal dismounted. She knelt on the ground beside the car, spread her knees wide, and curled two fingers inside herself. When she withdrew them, they were slick and streaked with white. She brought them to her lips, sucked them clean, then climbed back on top of Mohan's spent body. She crushed her mouth to his, her tongue forcing its way past his lips, sharing the taste of his own seed with him in a final communion. I zoomed in, capturing every detail.
The height of the night had crested and broken.
We left him there, crumpled and naked by the car, clutching only a scrap of clothing--Payal's discarded panties--a token of a fever dream he would never understand. He would never know the goddess who had delivered him to nirvana. Which college girl she was whose ID he would probably scan at the college gate tomorrow.
But he would always remember the gift that we gave him. A night of complete and utter pleasure.
While he was bent gathering his clothes from the dirt, our car exited the college gate, Payal still naked in the sedan, complaining of dirt in her asshole.
The guys dropped me at my apartment as they left to enjoy their night with Payal. Now that she had to take a morning after pill, I was sure the guys would be cumming inside her all night.
My first girl for the day had been conquered.