She was stuck repeating “please” over and over again, a glossy faraway look in her eyes. He must have fucked her all day, on and off, until he got her in this state.He did have a helluva stamina reservoir. I should know, I used to let him use me the same way, fuck me until his balls were hanging empty between his legs, satisfied with how he’d made me submit to his authority. Key word here being “used to”. I left, swearing that things were going to be over between us starting that very moment. I was not my mom. I wasn’t going to tolerate sharing his cock. I spent the following days in the second act of our little game of crime and punishment, where I rebuked his head of the household role every chance I got. Nothing he ever did or said was right anymore, I was even objecting to meal choices, all for the sake of being a contrary little shit. I particularly delighted myself by throwing innuendos about workplace cheating and about how men were naturally-programmed to fuck as many females. I dressed and got ready as per my plan, it was 6:30 by now and I was constantly watching from my window in such a way that he can’t see me from ground. Now it was the time he came, I left my door open so that he can come directly to my flat without knocking. I was in my bedroom.He was surprised when he enter in my bedroom. It was well decorated with flowers and candle lightning, my bed was decorated with roses all over it. And I was sitting in the middle of my bed with well dressed in my wedding saree, with jewellery all over. I wore artificial golden color long earrings, large round nose ring with mangalsutra, mangtikka (a jewellery in the middle of hair and forehead), lots of bangles, and hand chain. I was well makeup’d with dark red lipstick, kajal in my eyes, and red mascara. My hands upto elbow and legs upto thighs was well filled with mehendi. Inshort I was bride again. He was very pleasant and got the hint for that.He came near my bed and sit on the edge, look at me for at.
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