Ravi sat by the bedside, the soft whirl of the ceiling fan stirring the air around him as it spun lazily. His eyes were fixed on the woman who lay before him, her once vibrant face now a canvas of shadows cast by the setting sun. Seema, his wife of thirty years, was fading away, a prisoner to the unforgiving confines of her own body. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind—no chances of recovery, only the inevitable wait.
The room, a testament to their lives together, was cluttered with medical paraphernalia, each piece a stark reminder of the battle they were losing. The faint beep of the heart monitor served as a metronome to the symphony of her labored breathing, each inhale a gasp for hope, each exhale a sigh of resignation. Ravi’s hand found hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles, seeking warmth and connection in the cold reality of their situation.
Neha, their daughter, returned from college, her youthful energy a stark contrast to the somber mood that had settled into the house like a fog that no amount of light could penetrate. She paused in the doorway, with a silent nod to her father, she approached the bed and took over the care of Seema, her hands moving with the confidence of a much older woman. She cleaned her mother with a gentle touch, wiping away the perspiration from her brow, the corners of her mouth, and the back of her neck. The act was both a show of love and a silent promise to be strong for both her parents. She knew the importance of maintaining a semblance of routine, especially in moments like these when the chaos of life threatened to engulf them all.
Once Seema was comfortable, Neha turned to Ravi. "I'll go for a bath now, and after that, we'll have lunch together, okay?" she said, trying to inject a bit of cheer into her voice. Her father nodded wearily, his eyes never leaving Seema.
Neha retreated to her room,. She grabbed a fresh set of clothes and made her way to the bathroom, which was just beside the kitchen. The bathroom door creaked open, and the sound of running water filled the air, a momentary escape from the oppressive stillness that had settled in the house.
Ravi, hearing the water, took this as his cue to prepare lunch. He shuffled into the kitchen The microwave beeped, a stark reminder of the mechanical rhythm that had become a backdrop to their lives. As the food rotated, he listened to the muffled sounds of Neha's movements, the patter of water on porcelain, the occasional splash as she washed away the day's fatigue.
Ravi was thinking about the uncertain future while waiting for the microwave to complete it's rotation His heart was heavy with the dual burdens of his wife's decline and the precariousness of their financial situation. The medical bills had mounted, and his meager income as a taxi driver had dwindled to almost nothing with the pandemic's relentless grip on the city. Yet, he found solace in the simple act of caring for Seema, feeding her, changing her, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. It was his way of fighting back against the invisible enemy that had invaded their lives.
The sudden jolt of the microwave brought him back to the present, and as he turned to take out Seema's meal, he caught a glimpse of the bathroom door swinging open. In that fleeting moment, he saw a flash of bare skin, the curve of a hip, and the unmistakable silhouette of Neha running towards her room—completely unclothed and oblivious to his presence. He realized she must have forgotten her towel, a small oversight that spoke volumes about the toll their new life was taking on her young mind. She had become more forgetful lately.
Ravi thought that Neha's nakedness didn't stir any inappropriate feelings in Ravi—she was, after all, his daughter—He couldn't help but think about the burden she carried, her youthful spirit trying to navigate the treacherous waters of grief and responsibility. He knew he had to be there for her, to provide the stability she needed, even when he felt like he was drowning himself.
The microwave beeped again, and Ravi took out Seema's food, placing it carefully on a tray. He added a glass of water and a spoon before making his way to their bedroom, the plates of food for him and Neha already laid out on the dining table. As he approached the bed, he noticed a flicker of consciousness in Seema's eyes. She looked at him, and for a brief moment, he saw the woman he had fallen in love with, the spark of life that had drawn him to her all those years ago. "Lunch is ready," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Neha emerged from her room, her damp hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing a tiny crop top and denim shorts. The outfit hugged her body, showcasing the curves that had blossomed in the last year, Her youthful vitality was a stark contrast to the pallor that had overtaken Seema. It was a reminder that life went on, even as it was slipping away from their grasp.
As the shadows grew longer and the sun dipped below the horizon, Neha helped Seema away from the dining table, arranging her pillows and fluffing up the cushions to support her frail frame. Ravi looked on, his heart aching as he saw his daughter's strong arms cradling his wife's fragile body. It was a sight that brought home the reversal of roles, a stark reminder of how their lives had changed.
The evening while Ravi ate in the study, Neha took her place beside Seema, feeding her small spoonfuls of food with a tenderness that belied her age. Each bite was a silent conversation between them, a dance of love and sacrifice that played out in the flicker of Seema's eyes and the gentle nod of Neha's head. After Seema had eaten as much as she could manage, Neha helped her back into bed, tucking her in with the same care she had seen her father do countless times.
The house grew quiet as the evening drew to a close. Neha retreated to her study, the only place she could find refuge from the relentless march of time and the grim reality outside.
Ravi sat in the dimly lit living room waiting for the sleep to come, but he felt down by the sudden emotion of arousal. it was unbidden and unwelcome. but it was as if his desires had a mind of their own, a creature starved and desperate to be sated. He tried to push it away, to bury it deep within the recesses of his mind, but the more he resisted, the stronger it grew.
Ravi stood in the doorway of Seema's room, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew she was lost to the embrace of her medicated sleep, but he couldn't help the yearning that coursed through him. He missed the warmth of her body, the comfort of her touch, the soft whispers of love that had once filled their nights. It had been so long since they had shared a real moment of intimacy, and now, with the grim reaper lingering in the shadows, it felt like a distant memory.
He took a deep breath and turned away, his footsteps echoing through the corridor as he made his way to Neha's room. He paused outside her door, his hand resting gently on the wood, feeling the faint vibrations of her breathing. He pushed the door open, the soft light from the hallway spilling into the room, casting a warm glow across her sleeping form. She lay on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the other resting on her stomach. The sight of her brought him both comfort and pain.
Neha's crop top had ridden up slightly, exposing the soft swell of her underboobs, the fabric clinging to her skin as if painted on. Her denim shorts had been discarded haphazardly on the floor, leaving her in just a pair of pink panties that matched the color of her bedspread. Her legs were drawn up, the covers pooling around her waist, revealing the smooth skin of her thighs.
Ravi approached her bed with the intention of tucking her in properly, his eyes drawn to the alluring sight of her youthful form. As he reached out to pull the blanket up, his hand brushed against the bare flesh of her stomach. The touch was accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him, his body betraying his mind. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of his daughter's beauty.
Ravi's eyes lingered there, on the sweet juncture where the fabric met flesh, and for a moment, his mind raced with thoughts that were as alien to him as they were exhilarating. His breath grew shallow, his heart hammering a forbidden rhythm in his chest. He knew he should turn away, but he was rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn to the delicate curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the dark, shadowy mound of her sex beneath the fabric. It had been so long since he had felt the thrill of desire, and now it washed over him like a wave, powerful and unstoppable.
The room grew warm, the air thick with the scent of her—a heady mix of sweetness and the faint musk of her arousal. He could see the hint of her untouched pubic hair, a dark crescent that framed her sex like the petals of a blooming flower. The sight of it stirred something deep within him, a hunger that had lain dormant for months, maybe even years. It was as if the very essence of her womanhood called out to the base instincts that he had suppressed, whispering sweet nothings that only his body could understand.
Neha's breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took, her nipples peeking out from beneath the crop top, hard and erect. Ravi felt his blood surge, his penis growing thick and rigid, straining against his pants. The fabric of his own clothes felt suddenly too tight, too constricting, as if they were made to hold back the very essence of his being. His hand hovered over her, trembling slightly, the heat of his palm warming the air above her skin. He knew that if he touched her, if he allowed himself to indulge in his darkest desires, there would be no going back.
He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on her peaceful face. Her full, pink lips were slightly parted, and he could see the glint of her teeth. He wanted to lean down and kiss her, to taste the sweetness that lay within, to feel her warmth and life beneath him. But he also knew that to do so would be to cross a line that could never be uncrossed. He was her father, her protector, and he had sworn to keep her pure and innocent. The thought of defiling her, of taking advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, filled him with both horror and a twisted excitement.
The room grew smaller, the walls closing in around him, and he found himself leaning closer, his breath hot on her skin. He could feel the pulse in his own neck, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the quiet house. The scent of her, faint yet intoxicating, filled his nostrils, a sweet aroma that seemed to cloud his judgment. His hand hovered just above her waist, his fingertips itching to trace the contours of her body, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his calloused touch.
With trembling hands, he reached out, his palm brushing against the fabric of her crop top. He paused for a moment, his mind racing with the weight of his decision. But the hunger within him was too great, a beast that had been starved for too long. He carefully lifted the top, his heart pounding with anticipation. Neha's eyes remained shut, her breathing deep and even, oblivious to the silent violation that was occurring.
As the fabric peeled away, the sight of her naked breasts took his breath away. They were small but perfect, the pink tips of her nipples standing erect, the areolae a darker shade that contrasted beautifully with the rest of her fair complexion. He couldn't help but stare, his eyes greedy as they took in every detail—the gentle slope of her breasts, the way the moonlight played with the shadows on her skin. The crop top was now high enough to expose the entirety of her chest, and the urge to touch her was overwhelming.
Very carefully, Ravi lifted her top a bit further, his movements as silent as a cat burglar's. Neha was a deep sleeper, a trait she had inherited from her mother, and it was this that allowed him to continue without fear of being caught. His eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts, the soft flesh that begged for his touch. His hand hovered in the air, just millimeters from her skin, the heat radiating from her body warming his fingertips. He knew he shouldn't—it was wrong, a betrayal of the trust she had placed in him—but the need was too great to resist.
He took a deep, shaky breath and allowed his hand to make contact, his fingers tracing a gentle path from her ribcage to the peak of her left breast. The skin was softer than he could have ever imagined, a velvety warmth that seemed to melt beneath his touch. He watched as her nipple pebbled even further, the delicate flesh tightening into a tiny bud of desire. His own breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving the sight of his hand on her bare flesh.
Ravi averted his eyes, but couldn't look away for long. The temptation was too great, a siren's call that he had never before been exposed to. His gaze traveled down her torso, over the slight swell of her stomach, and settled on the waistband of her panties. The fabric clung to her hips, a testament to the dampness that had formed there, a silent confession of her own burgeoning needs. He felt a strange mix of guilt and arousal, his mind a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions.
With trembling fingers, he reached down, his hand shaking as it hovered just above the elastic band. He took a deep breath and slowly slid her panties down, inch by torturous inch. The fabric whispered against her skin, revealing the soft mound of her pubis, the untamed hair a stark contrast to the stark white of her thighs. The room was quiet, the only sound the rustle of fabric and the hushed sound of his own breathing. His eyes remained glued to the spot, drinking in the sight of his daughter's nakedness, the reality of it more potent than any fantasy he had ever entertained.
As Neha rolled over in her sleep, her face now mere inches away from Ravi's, she unknowingly brought her hand to her chest, the soft, warm weight of her palm resting on the side of her right breast. The movement caused the blanket to slip even further, exposing the entirety of her upper body to the cool air. Ravi felt his heart stutter in his chest, his arousal reaching a fever pitch. He watched, fascinated, as her hand moved in a lazy circle, her fingertips grazing her nipple, causing it to stiffen even more.
The sight was too much to bear. He reached down and unbuckled his pants, his erection springing free from the confines of his underwear. The head of his penis was slick with pre-cum, a clear beacon of his desire. He took it in his hand, the warmth of his skin against the coldness of the room sending shivers down his spine. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving his daughter's sleeping form.
Ravi leaned closer, his cock now just millimeters from Neha's parted lips. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, a sweet, musky aroma that filled his senses. He felt the urge to press himself against her, to feel the softness of her mouth, to hear the wet, suckling noises as she took him in. His hand tightened around his shaft, the veins standing out as he moved in a rhythm that matched the erratic beat of his heart.
For a single, terrifying moment, he hovered there, the tip of his erection brushing against the warm, moist air of her exhale. He watched her chest rise and fall, her breasts moving with the gentle rhythm of her sleep. He knew he should stop, that this was wrong on every conceivable level, but the need to feel alive, to feel desired, was stronger than his will. The tip of his penis grazed her upper lip, and he thought he saw a flicker of movement, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
But then reality crashed down around him, a cold slap in the face that brought him back to the present. He was her father, her caretaker, her protector. He couldn't do this to her. With trembling hands, he pushed his arousal aside and stepped back, his heart hammering in his chest like a caged animal desperate for release. The guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of self-loathing. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants and turned away, his back to her now exposed body.
He took a shaky step backward, then another, his eyes never leaving hers, even though they remained closed. He was afraid that if he looked away, even for a second, he would lose the battle waging within himself. With each step he took, the room grew larger, the air cooler, the weight of his actions heavier on his shoulders. He reached the doorway, his hand on the knob, his breathing ragged and loud in his ears.
With one final, lingering look at Neha's naked form, Ravi turned and stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound was final, a stark reminder of the line he had almost crossed. He stumbled back to his own room, his legs shaking, his mind racing with the vivid images of what could have been. He sank onto the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
With trembling hands, Ravi unbuttoned his shirt, his skin sticky with sweat and guilt. He threw it aside, the fabric landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. His eyes fell to his pants, the bulge in the front a stark reminder of his arousal. He knew what he needed to do—what he had to do—but the thought of it made him feel like a monster.
He walked to his bed, the mattress sighing as he sat down heavily. His hand hovered over his erection, his mind racing with the images of Neha's naked body. He tried to push the thoughts away
With a resigned sigh, he gripped his cock, his hand moving in long, slow strokes that mimicked the rhythm of his racing heart. He closed his eyes, and Neha's face swam before him, her eyes open and innocent, her lips slightly parted. He could almost feel her hand around him, guiding him, urging him on. The fantasy grew more vivid with each passing second, the lines between reality and desire blurring into a haze of lust.
Ravi's breath grew ragged, his strokes more urgent, as he pictured Neha's naked body writhing beneath him. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her nipples hard and pink, begging for his mouth. His hand grew slick with his own need, the sound of his fist pumping up and down the only sound in the room. He tried to resist, to think of his wife, her gentle touch, her sweet moans of pleasure, but it was no use. The image of Neha was burned into his brain, a siren's call that he could not ignore.
The fantasy grew more intense, Neha's face contorting in ecstasy as he plunged into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers digging into his back. He could almost feel her warmth, the tightness of her young pussy squeezing him, the way she would tighten around him when she came. He bit his lip to stifle a groan, his hand moving faster, his hips bucking in time with the rhythm of his thoughts. The room spun around him, a kaleidoscope of guilt and arousal.
With each stroke, Ravi grew closer to the brink, the pressure building within him like a dam about to burst. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, the sound of his own breathing harsh in his ears. The image of Neha's face grew clearer, the softness of her skin, the plushness of her lips. He could almost feel the weight of her body on top of his, the heat of her core as she rode him, her hips moving in a rhythm that matched his own.
The sight was too much to bear, and with a strangled groan, Ravi gave in to the flood of sensation, his seed spurting from him in a hot, sticky arc that painted the wall before him.
The next day, Ravi awoke with the weight of his transgressions heavy on his chest. The sun streamed through the open curtains, a cruel mockery of the dark thoughts that had plagued his sleep. He lay there for a long time, his eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest. The image of Neha, naked and vulnerable, was etched into his mind, a permanent stain that no amount of self-loathing could scrub away.
He knew he had to fight the inner demon that had driven him to such a dark place, the beast that had whispered sweet nothings into his ear, urging him to give in to his desires. He tried to convince himself that it was just a moment of weakness, a fleeting lapse in judgment. But deep down, he knew it was more than that—it was a hunger that had been festering, growing stronger with each passing day.
Ravi got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, the cold floor tiles a stark contrast to the heat of his guilt. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, the face that stared back at him unfamiliar. He had become a stranger to himself, a monster wearing the mask of a father. He turned on the shower, the water scalding his skin as he tried to wash away the stain of his thoughts. Yet, even as the steam billowed around him, he couldn't escape the images of Neha's naked body, the way she had unknowingly tempted him.
The house felt too small as he made his way to the kitchen, the walls closing in around him. He had to get out, to breathe in the cool, fresh air of the outside world. The hum of the city beyond the windows was a siren's song, a promise of escape from the prison of his own making. He grabbed the keys to his taxi, the jingle a harsh sound in the silent house, and stepped out into the morning light.
Neha had already left for college, the sound of the front door closing echoing in his mind. The sight of her that morning was seared into his brain, her youthful body a testament to the life that went on outside their shrine of despair. The image of her pink nipple, standing erect in the cool air, was like a brand on his soul, a reminder of the carnality that still dwelt within him. And the memory of her unshaven pubis, that soft, dark nest of hair, had stirred something primal, a hunger that had lain dormant for too long.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor. The house was silent, a testament to the weight of the secret that lay between them. Seema's breathing was shallower now, the beeping of the heart monitor a constant reminder of the ticking clock that was her life. Ravi knew that soon, the silence would be absolute, and the house would be a tomb of lost love and shattered dreams.
Last night's sleeplessness had claimed him like a thief in the daylight, stealing the moments he had promised to Seema. He had slumbered through the day, oblivious to the world and the responsibilities that weighed on his shoulders. The guilt of his actions from the night before was a leaden blanket that smothered any attempt at peace, leaving him to toss and turn in a restless miasma of regret.
Neha returned from college, her eyes red-rimmed . The weight of her books and her mother's illness had taken a toll on her, etching lines of sadness into the soft skin of her youth. She saw Ravi just beginning to stir from his slumber, the cobwebs of his nightmares clinging to his face. A flash of anger crossed her eyes—she felt pity for her father, but swallowed it down, knowing the pain he carried was his own cross to bear.
With mechanical movements, she made her way to the bathroom, the tiles cold and unforgiving under her bare feet. The water was tepid, the hot water heater another victim of their dwindling finances. She stepped under the spray, letting the droplets wash away the day's grime and her own burgeoning sense of despair. She knew she had to be strong, to keep going, but sometimes the weight of it all felt like a mountain on her shoulders.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of sorts, the one place she could be alone with her thoughts. The water pounded against her back, the rhythm a soothing lullaby that allowed her to push the sadness aside, if only for a moment. Her mind drifted to the previous evening, to the sight of her father standing over her, his hand on her chest. For a split second, she had felt something strange, a tension that didn't belong, but she had dismissed it, chalking it up to her overactive imagination.
Neha stepped out of the shower, her skin pink from the warmth. She wrapped herself in a towel, the material rough against her sensitive skin. She looked in the mirror, her eyes tracing the contours of her face but lately, she had started to see Seema in herself, the same tired lines around her eyes, the same furrowed brow. It was a mirror to the future she didn't want to face.
Walking to her r room, she caught the faint scent of her mother's perfume, lingering like a ghost from a happier time. She grabbed a fresh set of clothes from her closet—a simple T-shirt and a pair of shorts that had seen better days. She had lost track of how often she had worn them, how many times they had been washed until the color had faded and the fabric had grown thin.
As Neha peeled the towel away from her damp body, the soft fabric of the T-shirt caressed her skin like a lover's touch. She slipped into the shorts, the elastic band hugging her hips with a comforting snugness. She was about to leave the room when the knock came—sharp and insistent. She paused, the fabric of her shirt clutched to her chest like a shield. It was Ravi's voice, gruff and urgent. "Neha, can you lend me your towel? Mine's all wet," he called out.
She called back, "I'll get it for you," and hurriedly wrapped the towel around herself again.
The door creaked open, and Ravi stepped inside without waiting for her permission. His eyes fell on Neha, her skin glowing from the shower, the towel clinging to her in a way that accentuated the curves of her body. The sight of her made his breath catch in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot why he had come. Neha looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of embarrassment. "Please wait Pap, I'm not done yet" she asked, her voice small, but he barely heard her.
Without a word, Ravi approached her, his hand reaching out and snatching the towel from her body. She gasped, her arms flying up to cover herself, but it was too late. The fabric fell away, revealing her nakedness to his hungry gaze. Her breasts, full and firm, bounced slightly, the nipples tight from the sudden exposure to the cooler air. He couldn't help but stare, his eyes devouring every inch of her, the guilt from the night before momentarily forgotten.
Neha's cheeks flushed a deep red, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Pap, what are you doing?" she squeaked, her voice trembling. Ravi's eyes raked over her, taking in the smooth expanse of her stomach, the curve of her hips, and the dark triangle between her legs. He had never seen her naked like this, not since she was a child, and the sight of her filled him with lust that he couldn't reconcile.
"Your towel," he said gruffly, his voice thick with the weight of his own desires. "You said I could have it."
Neha's eyes darted to the floor, her cheeks burning with a mix of surprise and shame. She had been caught in a moment of vulnerability, her body laid bare before the man who had raised her, who had seen her at her worst and her best.
But as she took a step back to reach for the clothes, she felt his hand close around her wrist, pulling her towards him. His touch was firm, unyielding, and she stumbled against him, her bare breasts pressing against the rough fabric of his shirt. "Pap, please," she whispered, her voice shaky with fear and confusion.
"Why are you ashamed?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Is it the first time I've watched you naked, Neha?"
Neha trembled, her eyes darting to the floor.
Ravi's grip on her wrist tightened, his eyes never leaving the soft swell of her breasts, the way the light played across her skin. "You're so beautiful, Neha," he murmured, his voice a caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't be scared of your own body."
Ravi was seeing Neha again, but this time in bright light and at full extent.
Neha's breath came in shallow gasps, her heart racing as she tried to pull away. But her father's grip was too strong, his eyes too intense. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The room around them seemed to shrink, closing in on her.
Her hand shot down to cover her crotch, but he was too fast. Ravi's hand caught hers, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Let me see," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. Neha's mind screamed in protest, her body frozen in a dance of fear and arousal that she couldn't comprehend.
He stepped closer, his warmth enveloping her, the scent of his aftershave a stark contrast to the stale air of the room. His other hand slid up her back, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her against him. "You're my daughter," he murmured, his lips grazing her neck. "It's your duty to care for me, just as your mother did." His voice was a siren's song, weaving a twisted logic that she didn't have the strength to fight.
Neha's body responded despite herself, her heart racing, her breath hitching in her throat. She felt his erection pressing against her stomach, a solid, demanding presence that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his heart. "Pap, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. But even as she protested Ravi pushed her.
Shut up and lie down," he murmured, his voice a darka commands that sent a jolt of terror through her body. He pushed her gently but firmly towards the bed, his hand sliding down to cup her bare bottom. She stumbled, her legs giving way as the reality of what was happening crashed down upon her.
Neha's knees hit the mattress, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Pap, no," she pleaded, but the word was barely a whisper. He was stronger, his desperation overpowering her resistance. He guided her down, her body sinking into the softness of the bed that had once been a place of comfort, now a stage for her worst nightmare. pushed her knees apart, his rough hands sending shivers of revulsion through her. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but his grip was unyielding.
Her heart hammered in her chest, a wild drumbeat that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, a traitorous response to his touch that she hated herself for. Ravi's eyes were dark, his expression unreadable as he stared down at her.
"You need to be punished," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "For disobeying me, for putting your needs before the family's." He leaned down, his breath hot against her cheek. "You're not a child anymore, Neha. You know what your duty is."
Neha's eyes searched his, desperately seeking the loving father she had known all her life. Instead, she found a man consumed by a hunger she couldn't fathom. "Pap, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "This isn't right."
But Ravi was beyond reason, his mind a tumult of loss and desire. He took her by the hair, the action so sudden and violent that it sent a bolt of pain through her skull. She screamed, her nails digging into his forearm, but his grip was like steel. "You'll do as I say," he growled, his voice unrecognizable.
Neha's eyes watered with pain and fear as she was dragged through the house she had once known as a haven of love and safety. The floorboards groaned beneath their struggle, the walls seeming to close in around them like the jaws of a monster. The front door was a beacon of escape, but as she was pulled closer, she realized the horror wasn't outside—it was in the very man she had called "Pap."
The door loomed before them, the light from the setting sun painting the hallway in a warm, deceiving glow. Ravi's grip on her hair was relentless, his movements fuelled by a rage she had never seen in him. "You're going to do as I say," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Her eyes searched the darkened street, looking for a way to escape the humiliation and fear. The night was a canvas of indifferent stars, the moon a silent witness to her plight. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she approached the door, her hand shaking as she reached for the knob. "Pap, please let me enter," she whispered to herself, the words a prayer for salvation. "I promise I will obey you."
Neha stumbled into the hallway, her legs giving out from under her. The floor was cold, the tiles unforgiving against her bare skin. She collapsed into a heap, the towel she had been clutching slipping away to reveal her trembling body. Her father's eyes followed the descent of the fabric, his gaze lingering on her exposed flesh with an intensity that made her want to crawl into the smallest, darkest corner of the house.
Ravi's hand moved with a deliberateness that was almost cruel, reaching into the waistband of his pants. He pulled out his erect penis, the veins standing out like cords of desire against the mottled skin. "Grab it," he ordered, his voice a harsh bark that sent a shiver of revulsion through Neha's body. She didn't want to, she didn't want any of this, but the fear of his wrath was too great.
Her hand hovered in the air for a moment, trembling with the weight of his demand. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the sorrow of a thousand lost futures, she reached out and took hold of him. The warmth of his flesh was repulsive to her, the feel of his pulse a violation that she couldn't comprehend. Yet, she knew that she had to comply, had to do what he wanted.
Ravi's cock was hot and heavy in her small, trembling hand, the texture foreign and disgusting. She had never felt anything so wrong, so alien, and yet so intimately connected to her. She didn't want this, but she knew that if she didn't do as he said, the consequences would be unthinkable.
In one swift, brutal motion, Ravi shoved his dick inside Neha's mouth. She gagged, her eyes wide with shock and horror, her nose squished against the coarse hair of his crotch. The taste was bitter, the smell overpowering. She had never been so close to a man's genitals before, let alone had one forced into her mouth. Her throat tightened, and she felt the bile rise in the back of her throat, the panic setting in.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the salty precum that coated her tongue. Her eyes watered uncontrollably as she chocked, the girth of his shaft filling her mouth completely. She could feel the veins pulsing, the heat of his lust burning against her face
With a grunt of pleasure, Ravi pushed her down onto her belly, his hand still fisting in her hair. She gagged around his cock, her eyes bulging with the effort of not vomiting. His other hand moved to her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding her in place as he started to thrust. Each movement sent a jolt of pain through her, a stark reminder that she was no longer in control of her own body.
Neha's eyes watered, her mouth stretched wide around his girth. The salty taste of him filled her senses, mixing with the coppery tang of fear and disgust. Her own hand moved between her legs, not to resist him but to protect herself, to shield her most private place from his invading touch.
With a brutal jerk, Ravi pulled his cock out of her mouth, leaving her gasping for air. He flipped her over, her bare skin slapping against the cold floor tiles. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, but the hunger in his gaze was unyielding. He grabbed her by the hips, positioning himself behind her, the tip of his penis probing the entrance to her pussy.
Neha whimpered as she felt the head of his cock push against her, the reality of his intentions crashing down upon her. She tried to scramble away, but his grip was like a vice, his body a wall of muscle and lust that she couldn't escape. "Pap, no," she choked out, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Ravi leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. "You're mine," he growled. "Mine to take, mine to use." He thrust forward, the tip of his penis breaching her virgin barrier, tearing through the thin veil of her innocence with a sickening rip. Neha's eyes rolled back in her head, the pain a white-hot agony that stole her breath away.
The world around her faded to black as he pushed deeper, the sensation of being filled by something so large and unwelcome overwhelming her. The sound of their skin slapping together was obscene in the quiet of the house, each thrust a testament to the power he wielded over her. She could feel her hymen tearing, the pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was a defilement, a violation that she knew would leave her forever changed.
Neha's nails dug into the tiles, the only outlet for the scream that was trapped in her throat. The coppery tang of blood mingled with her tears, a bitter taste that filled her mouth. Her body was on fire, the pain a living, breathing entity that consumed her. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to fight back, the fear of what he might do if she did somehow paralyzing her.
Ravi's grunts grew louder, his thrusts more forceful. Neha felt like she was being split in two, her mind racing with thoughts of her mother, her friends, her life before this moment. She wondered if anyone would ever know what had happened here, in the sacred sanctity of her own home. The irony was a knife twisting in her gut, the pain a constant reminder of her father's betrayal.
"You're so tight," Ravi murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking tight." His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them roughly, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks. The sensation was strange, a mix of pain and pleasure that she didn't understand. Her body was responding to him, despite her mind's protests. She felt her pussy clench around him, a reflex she couldn't control, and he groaned in response.
"Pap," she whispered again, her voice hoarse from the sobs that had torn through her throat. "Please stop." But even as she said the words, she knew they were futile. His eyes had glazed over, his focus solely on the act of claiming her. He was like a man possessed, driven by a hunger that was insatiable.
"Be obedient, Neha," Ravi ground out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. "Or next time, I'll have your ass," he warned, his words a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. He knew her fear, knew that she would do anything to avoid the pain she was feeling. It was a power he never wanted, but in that moment, it was all he had.
Her eyes widened with horror at the thought, but she nodded frantically, her body trembling beneath his weight. She didn't want to know what he meant, didn't want to think about what he was capable of doing to her. All she knew was that she had to endure this, to get through it somehow. So, she bit down on her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to ignore the burning in her pussy.
He took her nod as consent, his hips moving with a brutal rhythm that sent waves of pain through her body. Neha's eyes squeezed tighter, her mind racing to find some semblance of control, some way to escape the monstrous reality of her father's rape. The sounds of their flesh slapping together filled the room, a grim counterpoint to the ticking clock that marked the moments of her lost innocence.
Just as Ravi's thrusts grew more frenzied, his breaths coming in ragged pants, he pulled out abruptly, leaving her feeling empty and exposed. His hand wrapped around his glistening shaft, the muscles in his arm tensing as he positioned himself above her. "Take it," he demanded, pushing his penis back into her mouth just as she felt the warmth of his cum begin to spurt forth. She gagged as the bitter liquid filled her mouth, the taste of his release a stark contrast to the metallic taste of her own blood.
Neha's eyes watered, and she desperately tried to swallow, not wanting to disappoint him, not wanting to feel the wrath of his displeasure. Her throat convulsed around his cock as he emptied himself into her, the feeling of his hot semen sliding down her throat a stark reminder of the power he now held over her. She felt used, dirty, a mere object to satisfy his carnal desires. Yet, she knew that to survive, she had to play along, to submit to his will.
With a final, shuddering groan, Ravi pulled away, his chest heaving with exertion. He stared down at her, his expression a twisted mix of satisfaction and something else, something that sent a shiver down Neha's spine. She didn't dare look up, didn't dare meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she focused on the floor, the pattern of the tiles swimming before her eyes as she fought to keep the vomit down.
Leaving her there, trembling and broken, Ravi strode to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing through the silent house. The sound of running water was a symphony of mockery, a reminder of the purity that had been stolen from her. Neha remained on the floor, curled into a ball, her body a canvas of pain and humiliation. The warm trickle between her legs was a testament to the violation she had endured, a betrayal that had left her soul in tatters.
Her sobs grew quieter as the minutes ticked by, the salty tracks on her cheeks drying in the cool breeze that slipped in through the open door. She could hear the faint sounds of her father washing himself, the water sluicing over his skin, a symbol of his attempt to cleanse his soul of the unspeakable act he had committed. But she knew that no amount of soap and water could wash away the stain that now marred their relationship.
Slowly, painfully, Neha pushed herself up from the floor, her legs wobbly from the ordeal. She walked to her room, her bare feet sticking to the cold tiles, each step a silent protest against the man who had taken her innocence. She gathered her torn pajamas and the towel she had dropped in her haste, her eyes avoiding the mirror that reflected the bruised and violated girl she had become.
With trembling hands, she dressed in the same top and shorts she had worn earlier, the fabric feeling like a prison against her tender skin. She took a deep breath, willing herself to compose the shattered pieces of her being, and then she stepped out of her sanctuary into the hallway. The house felt eerie, the shadows seeming to whisper of the depravity that had just occurred.
Her mother's room beckoned her, a silent plea for comfort and normalcy. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open with gentle hesitation, not wanting to disturb the sacred space of her parent's union—now defiled by the very man who had once been her protector. Seema lay unchanged, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber, oblivious to the horror that had unfolded just a few steps away.
Neha approached the bed, the soft scent of medicated talc and antiseptic filling her nostrils. She took her place beside her mother, the same spot she had occupied countless times as a child when she had needed comfort. Her eyes fell on Seema's hand, the veins a delicate map of her life's journey, the skin paper-thin and translucent. With trembling fingers, she picked up the hand that had once wiped her tears and held it to her own heart, feeling the erratic beat that seemed to echo the turmoil within her.
Forcing a smile through the veil of tears, she leaned in to whisper in Seema's ear. "Ma, I'm here. It's going to be okay." The words felt like a lie on her tongue, a hollow promise she wasn't sure she could keep. Yet, she had to try. For Seema, for the mother who had given her life, she had to pretend that the world wasn't falling apart around them.
Seema's eyes fluttered open, the recognition of her daughter's presence bringing a brief spark of light to their depths. "Neha," she murmured, her voice a mere wisp of air. "You shouldn't be up so late."
Neha smiled.
The End
