The Breaking

Mr. Verma pulls his cock from Neha's mouth and shoves her face-down onto the carpet, yanking her hips up and driving into her without warning, her saree tearing as he sets a punishing rhythm. He flips her onto her back, lifts her legs over his shoulders, and pounds into her deeper, his hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her screams as he forces her through position after position—on the couch, against the wall, bent over the armrest. Her body is limp and trembling, tears streaking through the cum on her face, when he drags her up by the hair and makes her ride him, his thick fingers bruising her hips. Arshad's knuckles are white on the doorframe, his jaw locked, and Mr. Verma catches his glare—smiling as he slaps Neha's ass hard enough to leave a red print. 'Your turn to watch, boy,' he grunts, and Neha's eyes find Arshad's, pleading and broken, as Mr. Verma drives up into her again.