Crossing the Line: The Incest Story

"Just tell me," I pressed.

"Does Amar understand what you need?" he finally asked, as his fingers trailed down slowly to caress my whole pussy.

"Heavens no," I admitted, "he doesn't have a fucking clue," I said bluntly.

"And what is it you need?" he asked me while his ring and index finger parted pussy lips apart, ready to shove his middle finger inside my volcano.

I moaned, "Ohhh!" and certainly closed my eyes. It's been such a long time since someone else touched me. With that sensation, I pressed both hands on his arm. "You know what I need," I insisted, becoming flustered, excited, rattled, and soaking wet.

"I do know, yes," he agreed. "I know exactly what you need and how to provide it."

"Mmm," I couldn't help but release a sultry, louder moan as his thumb sensually began to caress my eager, throbbing clit.

"But..." he paused, stopped rubbing his thumb, but kept those other fingers still parting my pussy lips. I looked at him, and he smiled at my reaction—this seduction, this whatever—then he continued, "But first, I need you to tell me what you want and to say it clearly."

"Please don't make me do that." My eyes pleaded more earnestly than my words, begging for pleasure.

"Boudi, I never make anyone do anything they don't wish to," he mentioned, and he slid his middle finger inside my pussy, touching my naked flesh directly. I wanted to point out that "that's not exactly true." Instead, I exhaled deeply and widened my legs apart, making it easier for him to access me and allowing his fingers to glide in and out of my moist pussy.

Nonetheless, he had some other plans in his mind, as he stopped his middle finger but kept it inside and continued to leisurely trace his thumb back and forth over my sensitive clit. Then, with a sly smile, he confidently stated, "We both know that I have the skills and ability to satisfy your deepest longings and desires."

"Ummmmmmmh," I let out a louder moan, driven wild by this teasing. My moans reverberated inside the car, making my heart race and my pussy burn. I knew I would cave, but I still wanted to show some form of resistance.

But not for long; his index finger abandoned my sensitive fold, venturing deeper into my intensely aroused, stimulated, and fully exposed core. He whispered in a sensuous tone, "Does he provide the satisfaction you crave? Does he truly comprehend your desires?"

"Nooooo," I moaned passionately, the exquisite sensation of his two fingers causing me a little pain and pleasure through my body at the same time. I couldn't sit properly and released his hand, gripping the edge of my seat and arching my back, my senses electrified by his touch. In a breathless whisper, I added, "He cannot."

"Then tell me, Annupama, what is it you need?" He asked me once more, this time taking my first name, his voice laced with authority.

"It's just so embarrassing to say," I complained, while his fingers slowly explored inside my pussy.

"Then why are you not wearing any underwear and going out with your brother-in-law like this?" He pushed, his eyes never leaving mine.

I clearly had no answer as to why I decided to go commando. Then again, he slapped me with another question: "Or leaving your door wide open while getting dressed, completely naked, wasn't part of your embarrassment?"

I wanted to make it clear that it was unintentional, but I gasped in surprise, stuttering, "You saw me naked."

Samar abruptly stopped and pulled away his fingers. I looked at him this time with a deep sense of disappointment, unable to express a single word as a mixture of guilt and embarrassment flushed my cheeks. It had been an incredible sensation, and I was on the verge of reaching a climax when, unexpectedly, it all came to a sudden halt.

"So, are you telling me you're ready to begin Crossing the Line?" he inquired, adding the finishing touch.

By the time I could recover from what just happened, he turned around and opened the gate without waiting for my answer. He just got out. I watched as he circled around the car. As usual, he opened the door for me like a gentleman, and by extending his hand, he whispered, "Come with me; I want to show you something new and very secret."

"Sure," I responded without a moment's hesitation, being curious and flashing a smile as I eagerly anticipated whatever adventure he had in mind. I then took his hand and stepped out of the car.

Although the high heels had aided me in creating a comfortable position, allowing his hand to explore my slutty pussy, when I got up, I realized I wouldn't be able to walk properly in my three-inch heels on that chilly midnight.

Yet I somehow managed to walk alongside him, holding his arm as we approached the main door. He unlocked the gate and, with a subtle glance, asked, "Could you kindly take off your heels? Both Deepa and Stella prefer to keep the floors clean."

"Deepa?" I inquired with growing curiosity. A thought crossed my mind: my mother's name is Deepali, and I often used to call her 'Deepa' playfully. It felt rather unusual, but I must confess, it did stir a subtle sense of excitement in my wet pussy as I pondered it.

Moreover, back at home, he had mentioned my mother with a prolonged pause, saying, 'Deepa' and then 'Aunty.'

"Yes," he responded, bringing me back to reality.

I held my heels in my hand, unable to conceal my curiosity, and asked, "Who is Deepa?"

Totally ignoring my question, he passed a compliment by saying, "I particularly like the way your toenails are painted in that vibrant shade of red, matching with your dress."

Once again, my focus wandered, and a rosy blush tinged my cheeks as I glanced downward, teasingly showcasing my newly pampered hand, foot, and lips. "I just got a manicure," I admitted with an excited, childlike tone. "My toenails matched my fingernails, which matched my lipstick, all of them ruby red."

He didn't gaze at any of them; instead, his eyes locked onto mine, radiating seduction. He uttered, "A woman should accentuate all of her assets."

"My toes are assets?" I inquired, sounding somewhat foolish.

"A beautiful woman's legs, feet, and toes combine into a potentially lethal combination, don't you think?" He questioned me and started to walk.

"Oh! I never really considered that," I replied, taking a moment to ponder. After watching him walk away, I hurriedly followed his lead.

We strolled down the hallway and made our way to one of his bedrooms. Upon entering the room, I playfully tossed my handbag and heels onto the bed before sitting on the edge with my legs crossed. The mattress was impressively over ten inches thick.

As I settled onto the bed, I bounced a bit and noticed my entire body trembling and my hands shaking in nervousness. I took a quick glance around and remarked, "This is a lovely place."

He responded with a smile and a reassuring blink.

"So?" I glanced at the bedsheet, my fingers tracing its texture, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him, anticipating that he would end up fucking me on the same bed.

He remained quiet but was still looking at me, so I mustered the courage to look at him, a shy blush coloring my cheeks. Even though I was pretending to be confident, deep down I was scared as hell, my heart racing like a bullet train. Obviously, he could totally read my mind or feel what I was feeling inside.

After studying me for a few extra seconds, he strolled over to his spacious, floor-to-ceiling wardrobe and swung open the second door, revealing its emptiness. Filled with curiosity, I couldn't help but chuckle and ask, "Do you think we'll both fit in there comfortably?"

"No, there's a room behind this, and I keep my sluts in there and FUCK them," he said, revealing the hidden door within the closet. Those unexpected, blunt words left my jaw hanging agape.

He cast a peculiar look at me, almost as though he were silently beckoning me to accompany him so that he could show me around. Recognizing his unspoken invitation, I rose from my seat, and with a sense of unease, I approached him in silence.

I gasped and stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze sweeping across the expansive room as I stood by the doorway. The room measured a spacious thirty feet by thirty feet or more, with lots of tables and sofas scattered throughout.

I lived in a small room that was eight feet by ten feet in size. There was a narrow corridor in front of the room, measuring three feet by eight feet, which we used as our kitchen. On the right side, there was another corridor that was three feet by fourteen feet, and that's where we had our main entrance.

We hung some fabric there for privacy. At the back of the room, we had a bathroom, which we had to cross that right side space, and it was covered with torn plastic sheets.

Naturally, that area was three to four times larger than my house.

As I entered the room, I looked around and noticed a wide variety of items neatly arranged on shelves. There were costumes, toys like vibrators, dildos, and butt plugs, as well as other items such as clitoral stimulators, G-spot stimulators, nipple clamps, BDSM restraints, anal beads, and more. I don't know the names. I approached the shelves to get a closer look at each of these items. Then, I noticed a sex swing and a large X-shaped structure nearby, along with a cage next to it.

I saw a big balcony with a couch outside. The balcony had a glass door that was wide open. When I went closer to the edge, I looked outside and saw water all around us on three sides. I didn't know what the other side looked like because I was asleep when I got here, but I felt it was a dream house.

I casually swept my hair and arranged it on the back of my head, leaving the ends free. I then indulged in the picturesque scene illuminated by the moonlight, casting a romantic ambiance over the water.

Then it dawned on me, recalling Samar's earlier remarks about him keeping his companions in this room, and it seemed likely he intended to do the same with me. In response, I couldn't stifle a laugh, so I turned around, my lips forming a wry grin, fully prepared for what was to come.

I noticed he was seated on the corner couch, and as our eyes met, I couldn't help but smile and simply say, "Impressive."

"Come," he smiled, extending his hand in a gesture for me to walk closer to him and placing my hand on his.

With a wry expression, I tucked my hand behind my back and tiptoed, but I paused about 10 steps ahead, attempting to resist while at the same time waiting for his next move.

"This is the last time I'll ask you this, Anupama," he warned, then lowering his hand, he asked, "What do you want?"

"I want..." I paused for a moment, briefly closed my eyes to shield my embarrassment, and concealed my smile by gently tucking both lips into my mouth while still standing on my toes.

"I want..." I rephrased, wrestling with the need to convey my thoughts yet struggling to voice them, all the while burdened by my own shame, concealing my innermost self from the judgmental world, and contending with the commitment of my marriage to finally cross that invisible line.

Samar and I had only ever discussed theory, flirting, temptation, etc. up to this point, but this was the step from which I knew if I committed, I could never back out!

"I want to be one of them who you make love here," I eventually finished, while avoiding my shame by closing my eyes.

"I only fuck my sluts here, Annu," he straightforwardly remarked, further intensifying my embarrassment.

I smiled at his nasty, blunt words and then gradually opened my eyes. Without meeting his eyes directly, I asked, "Deepa too?"

"Yes," he responded, giving a clear and proper answer to my question for the first time.

"Could you please tell me who she is?" I requested, looking at him curiously, a hint of jealousy creeping in at the thought that she had already been physical with him before me.

He slyly grinned and explained, "One of my sluts."

I was overwhelmed by shame, yet I managed to maintain control over my emotions. I confessed with a whispered voice, "I want to be your slut then," before closing my eyes one more time.

"Umhm, go on, I'm listening," pushing me deep into my sense of embarrassment.

"I want you to fuck me like one of your sluts," I answered, my eyes still closed.

"Okay, but any of my sluts don't wear anything in this room," he clarified.

I opened my eyes, nodded quickly two or three times with a pleading expression, and said, "Please, Samar."

"Come on, Annu, we both know you want this." He said that, disregarding my plea.

"I want you to do this," I whispered, trying to convey my request with a touch of shyness. It's far less awkward when someone undresses you instead of having to undress in front of someone on your own.

"I want you to do this," he reiterated my words, frustrating me with his mind games.

I gave him an odd, slightly angry glance through my narrow eyes, inhaling my breath but having my cheeks flushed, and admitted, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

I grasped the hem of my dress and began the gradual process of raising it. Simultaneously, I shut my eyes once more, attempting to push aside the feelings of embarrassment and shyness that were welling up within me.

I was hyperventilating, my hands trembling as I pulled up my dress, breathing ten times faster than my usual pace. The fabric reached my waist, and my bare, smoothly shaven pussy was on the verge of becoming visible. At that moment, I paused and pleaded, "Please," hoping he would ask me to stop.

"You know you need this," he explained.

Feeling helpless and not wanting to disappoint him, with my closed eyes, I reluctantly continued pulling my dress up more slowly. I unveiled my belly first, followed by my breasts, adorned with a laced bra. Finally, I removed the dress, leaving me standing in nothing but my bra.

I let the dress fall to the ground and crossed my legs, one hand discreetly shielding my intimate area and the other resting on my cleavage. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Good girl," he complimented me like a kid.

I opened my eyes to face him and blushed, happy to fulfil his wish.

"Now get on all fours and crawl," he ordered.

I knelt down gradually, lowering myself to the floor and placing both hands on the ground. Then I began to crawl leisurely, with my bosom gently swaying beneath the delicate lace of my bra.

To enhance the sexiness, I dangled my hips left-right; such sultry ass wiggling while crawling always increases the intensity and conveys our mutual interest and eagerness to please at any cost.

As anticipated, he lounged on the couch, savoring the scenery. I paused when I reached between his legs but stayed on all fours.

He rose from his seat and made his way to a nearby shelf as I patiently waited on all fours, much like an obedient pet.

"Sit up," he commanded from a distance, standing in front of the shelf adorned with an array of collars.

I turned around to see him choosing one, and I promptly complied with his order. With both hands pressed to the floor, I raised myself onto my knees, waiting for his next instruction.

Upon his return, he kneeled before me and stated, "My sluts always wear this." He then proceeded to fasten a collar around my neck, and I simply raised my chin and tied my hair on the back of my head, granting him easier access to do so.

"Place both hands on your back," he directed, and I promptly complied, but both of my bra straps began to slide down from my shoulders, coming to rest on my biceps.

After securing the collar around my neck, he stood up, and just before attaching a chain to it, he cautioned, "Don't move your hands until I give you permission."

I nodded in agreement, avoiding direct eye contact with him.

He grasped the chain firmly, yanking it to inflict a sharp discomfort in my throat. His other hand rested on my head, pushing a little up so that I could see him as he asked, "Are you ready?"

I smiled as the pain surfaced and whispered, "Yes."

"Look at me," he directed, shifting his hand from my head to my chin, raising it to meet his gaze, intensifying my pain more, and guiding me to say, "From this moment forward, you will address me as 'Sir' or 'Master.'"

"Yes, SIR," I replied without hesitation, wanting to just let go of myself and obey and using the simple word 'sir', to add emphasis to the hierarchy already established.

"Such a good girl," he praised before commanding, "Crawl beside me." Then, he gently undid my neatly coifed hair, remarking, "You look lovely with your hair open."

Without hesitation, I shifted onto all fours, prepared to be led. He advanced toward the balcony, holding the chain, and I followed him by crawling and dangling my hips obediently, just like a good little puppy, until we reached the very end of the balcony.

"It's very relaxing, isn't it?" he asked, looking at the water.

"Yes, sir," I responded, agreeing with his assessment of the view. I was certain that the scene would be even more exquisite under the bright sunlight.

He reached into his pants pocket, retrieved a cigar, and lit it up, completely disregarding my presence. It was a moment of profound humiliation. I found myself on my knees, exposed except for the flimsy bra, in the biting cold, with the wind only making it worse, and my knees were beginning to ache.

Yet there was a strange satisfaction in pleasing him, even though it was not for that long; we were just starting. He possessed the art of using, degrading, and perhaps even fucking with his partners, and my mind immediately started to spin with lust. Even though I hadn't even seen his dick yet, I thought I simply had to have it no matter what at that point.

It took him almost 24 minutes to complete smoking that cigar, during which I remained on all fours, eagerly anticipating what was to come. Every passing second felt like an eternity in that position, with the cold, the pain, the sense of humiliation, and every other sensation possible, yet I rejoiced in it.

"Let's begin," he said after finishing, and I sensed his hands making contact with my bra, the only piece of cloth I was wearing.

By then, the shoulder straps of my bra had already slid down to my lower elbow, and the front part of the bra seemed to be entangled in the curves of my ample boobs, hanging somehow under the threat of dropping in no time.

As soon as he unfastened the back of my bra, I watched the bra gently cascade to the floor, leaving me fully naked. Then he started walking in by pulling the chain, and I also began crawling, feeling a sense of discomfort as I followed him.

He took precisely 12 steps and halted next to a couch, instructing, "Untie my shoes."

At that moment, I had already surpassed the threshold of any potential embarrassment. So, I just crawled close to his legs, kneeled down between them, and began untying his shoelaces.

After finishing, he settled on the couch and began removing his shoes, then he asked, "So you want me to make you, my slut?