Heart and Other Toys

Sneha stood there, her face blushed and flushed. His long and lecherous scrutiny, the way curled, licked and bitted his red lips, on every curve and mound of her body, and flickers of flame in his dark eyes, and top of all — his silence was making her feel like she isn't only an object of his lust, but also a subject. No man had ever looked at her that way, as if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her body and every flicker of her soul. Sneha had never felt so ashamed before - Never had she found herself so adorable, as she did — against his hungry gaze.

"Don't look at me like this," Sneha wailed, despite knowing that she is at his mercy, but she felt, if one more second he won't blink his eyes — and she will be ashes.

And Pathan blinked, with a grunt. He started roaming around her. Sneha closed her eyes. At once his sexual appetite grew, erotic desires pouring into his mind, into his cells, flooding him with images of taking her in every way possible, of having her whenever, wherever he wanted. Pathan had never thought about the things he would need or want from a woman, but she roused dark passions and an edgy hunger in him.

She closed her eyes and felt his breath, his gaze and his hands wandering all over her body— now playing with her nipples, now tugging the lobes of her cars. Now, his thumb running down her spine and now grabbing the hips from behind. Now soft, small and docile — now hard, rough and aggressive.

Drowning in guilt and fear and desire, she tried to push his caressing hand away from her throat. His fingers delved into her hair with a grip just short of painful. His mouth was close to hers. He was surrounding her, all the strength and force and maleness of him, and she closed her eyes as her senses went quiet and dark in helpless waiting. Sneha felt an intense urge to moan and rub herself against him, but she held herself, tight-lipped, eyes-shuts, knees closed, till she sensed him moving back on that chair. Sneha looked at him agitatedly.

"Show me...!" Pathan demanded, sniffing her panty.

Her tearful eyes widened, inquisitively. He laughed at her bewilderment.

"Show me. How you pleasure yourself." Pathan repeated, pocketing her panty into the holster of his police revolver.

"What?" her beautiful eyes fluttered open; it was evident from her voice that her anger had vanished into disbelief.

"I can't speak your Tamil. So you better obey in English" Pathan declared, putting aside his holster. Then suddenly, one of his hands slid to the triangle between her thighs, caressing her pulsing flesh, while the other went to her breast and clamped the nipple roughly between his thumb and finger and he dragged her closer between his legs. "How do you pleasure yourself? Taking oral or giving?"

"Oh, please... I'm telling you." Sneha moaned in astonishment of his sudden attack, like this was she needed. Her both palms fell to his broad shoulders and cried out repeatedly, in ecstasy that sounded like anguish. Satisfaction rushed and ebbed, back and forth, in heavy waves that soon broke into shudders. She really couldn't stand then, her limbs quaking, and she fell in his arms.

"Yah. Tell me..." he teased, clenching her entire pussy, "Giving or receiving oral. How do you take pleasure?"

"Giving... Giving!" Sneha moaned—and at the helm of this unexpected ecstasy, it completely shut her mind to rationalize her untimely honesty. Her clenched pussy in his fist had taken her senses, and resistance she might've harbored to this dangerous, inevitable escalation dissolved into a big fat pool at her feet.

Pathan studied her for a moment, he too was a little surprised by her cock sucking passion, and a slow smile curved his lips. "Lovely. Go on," removing his fingers from her pussy and breast, he allowed Sneha to collapse at his feet, between his legs. "The floor is yours, baby."

It didn't come as any relief, but a sudden sense of emptiness filled her into a frustration that she couldn't decipher. Sneha whimpered, her breasts heaving against his knees, her burning cheeks, tantalized over his pulsating erection, through his pants, she felt the telltale bulge of his huge, rigid manhood. Little shudders assailed her, as did a surge of panic. Instinctively she closed her knees, on the carpet.

"No. I can't, please," as Sneha uttered the words of the prayer, she glanced up at him as if he were God himself.

Pathan watched her with growing pleasure. In front of him was kneeling a Brahman woman, being degraded by a Muslim man—she hated once. In front of him was a praying lady—humiliated by her own nakedness. In front of him was whimpering another man's wife—disgraced by her own lust for him.

This threefold image of demeaning had pacified his range and own sense of contempt, but it had intoxicated him—like power does. It gave him a stupor—like poetry does. It mellows him strangely—like love does. He rose, amid a kaleidoscope of these emotions, and his uniform pants fell at his boots.

Sensing the danger she tried to move but Pathan reached for her swiftly, both hands wrapping around the back of her skull. Sneha tried her best to not to look between his legs, she glanced up, into his burning eyes, "Please, I can't. Let me go, please," She pleaded.

Leaning down his alert gaze raked over her tearful face, and he smiled. "You've to suck it, that's what you're doomed to and destined for," Pathan declared, completely ignoring her cry of alarm, he kissed her mouth.

Her hands came up to his muscle-roped wrists, trying in vain to pry herself free. The sensation of his mouth, incendiary, again stunned her. He used his teeth and lips and tongue, seducing her in a blaze of sensuality. She floundered for purchase until he handed her a burning baton. She shivered at the touch of his enormous cock — his turgid, pulsing shaft, that part of him that would play havoc not only with her body, but her mind, as well.

Pathan hated for she would not touch him of her own accord, but that did not stop him from forcing her to participate. Her hand looked incredibly small encompassing him the way it did.

"Serve it, and you'll survive. You'll thrive." Pathan groaned, and his eyes glazed with the thrill and passion of her acceptance. His bulbous cock-head, kissed her navel, filling the oval-pool with pre-cum. She moaned in a fearful delight, and he groaned in vanity, "You're a lioness, bitch."

Sneha kissed him — just to quiet him, knowing his derogatory words will only free her from the gravity of grace. Her fingers kept on measuring the never ending length. Both, Ravi and Pawan together, couldn't form a single dick- half as thick as his. The long journey of her hand on his shaft had also affirmed that Pathan was easily twice as big as them.

In her fragile hope to keep him cajoled and distracted, for once she sucked lower lips — like the rest of him, his lips were firm, and demanding. Sneha started stroking his hard and fast as she could, but to her chagrin, his big cock kept growing, until it became a steel monster, and her wet fist gave into aching.

Sneha broke the kiss, realizing this man was the storm and the shelter too. It dawned on her that surrendering to him means a reckless giving of herself to the darkness of his ecstasy. On the flip side, it was also pretty clear that life without him will plunge her back into gibbering hell of longing that no other torturer could devise. Pathan was what she craved for. He was what she was afraid of most.

Finally, Sneha pushed him away, with whatever force this quandary had left her with. Pathan fell on the same chair. He laughed, staring up at her with a hooded expression in his eyes. His mouth was wet from hers, and his breathing was slightly labored.

"Please don't corrupt me, Pathan..." pleaded Sneha, trying hard to not look at that monster that was hiding his navel.

"What you thought, I'm a jerk, who you'll blow and bluff your way through?" the entire intimacy was gone both from his voice and face.

"No, please...!" Sneha replied softly, cajoling him, as her last resort, "You're THE MAN, Pathan. A real man. You can find any other girl. Please don't ruin me."

"What you find so hot about me, suddenly..." he smiled and teased her more than his words. With a swift swing of his arm, Pathan grabbed her, before Sneha could pick the bedsheet from the floor.

Pathan dragged her to his lap, again as he sat again on the same chair, that seemed to have become his throne. "Do you still hate me?" he tried looking at her face through her long hairs that were spread all over his face, over his chest, across her bare breasts.

Sneha shrugged her hair cascading over her shoulders rather romantically, and he found her eyes. She was staring at him, already. Pathan's heart thud as her generous mouth curved. This was the smile he had been waiting for 15 years.

"No, I don't..." Sneha chimed. Her reaction even shocked her, as Pathan was still her captor. "But, I wish you were a better human," she added, and despite her crimson face, her voice sounded sad, like the sun in the day of mist.

"That's why I'm a cop..." Pathan confessed, roughly grabbing her neck, "Because you called me a thug."

Sneha had even forgotten when she called him a thug. Somehow his yearning has touched her. She looked at him closely—the look of experience suited him, especially because somewhere deep in those eyes, there still lurked a dangerous invitation to play. Something devious about his eyes made him utterly unreliable.

"Then let me go, please...!" Sneha whimpered, straining again in his arms, although she didn't know whether she was trying to escape or press closer. Her fist on his broad chest uncurled. A finger began to stray, tracing the line of hair down toward his navel. It was a slow, tentative movement, for this was all too new. "Give me some time to think about us," she added, picking on her racing pulse.

"Listen bitch," Pathan jabbed, completely unable to read her heart. "You can't bluff your way with me.

Suddenly his voice felt like a cool, silk sheet dragged across her naked flesh. She looked at him with shock and grief written over her face. Every time that she felt him touching her heart, he would show his real colors to wipe her blush. Her shoulders slumped again, and tears shimmered in her eyes, as she looked away from him. She didn't want to look at him anymore, because he looked so that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.

"All right," Sneha didn't feel scared of him as she pushed him off, coming out of his grip. "Then rape me. Where you want to rape? On that bed?" Sneha started moving to the bed.

Pathan punched in the air, suddenly without her in his arms his deep sense of guilt returned, for all his sins, for exploiting the woman he loved most in his life. But—guilt never comes alone. Guilt is the dance partner of greed in the grand theatre of emotional indifference. That was happening with him, as his sinful eyes fixated on her pleasantly rounded bottom. Pathan loved how it wiggled engagingly, as Sneha walked in anger.

He wanted her body—she was too irresistible and yet he wanted her love. In his own world of logic it startled him—why she still considers him a rapist, while he has saved her from ravishment. His inner battle of guilt and lust—coupled with that sense of being a loser, just turned him heartless. Zombie.

"Not on the bed..." Pathan roared behind her. "Over there." His gaze pointed towards the adjacent gallery of their luxury suit.

Sneha dared look at that open gallery, her rage, grief, and disappointment suddenly faded into the darkness of utter shame and humiliation to even imagine herself at that place of public display. Back on her feet, she hobbled to him. "Pathan, please..." Sneha pleaded, "There're people outside. I'll do whatever you say. But not there"

"Fuck you, bitch..." He retorted, peevishly and his long fingers threaded through her hair roughly. "I didn't come here to rape you. I didn't even know that it's you or who- before coming here. I want you Sneha. I want to fuck you—but I'm not a rapist."

"I don't care who you're..." her voice sounded so passive like she had lost all her hopes in him. "I just beg you to be a human."

"I should have let that Qureshi to whore you out here, on every weekend," Pathan retorted, matching the bitterness of her voice. "Then you'd have seen the humans."

"What?" Her eyes widened, and she cupped her mouth. Sneha knew she had fallen in some trap, but she had no idea that it's so grave. "They just needed a policeman to harass you deeper. It was their, or perhaps your bad luck that—it was my shift."

Her gorgeous face contorted, wrapping her arms around her nudity Sneha gave into his arms. "They have that footage Pathan." Sneha uttered that fear which she didn't want to even think about.

Selfishly he savored her vulnerability again, as her fear and shame had sent her back in his arms. "No one can harm your shadow even, as long as I'm alive." He deposited her shivering body in his warm embrace. "That's a Pathan's promise."

Her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair- threading through the dark locks. The caress sent a shiver of pleasure through him. "Please take me away from here, Pathan," Sneha sobbed, rubbing her nose through the soft curly hair of his chest.

"I want you, Sneha..." he whispered huskily, "I want to fuck you, right now. Right here."

In torturously slow degree she looked up, in his eyes, her chin still quivering. "I feel so scared here, Pathan," Sneha sobbed, her breasts—squeezed between their naked bodies were unfurled, all over his hairy chest.

"You're safe here now. Trust me," grunted Pathan and lifting his hand, he cradled the side of her face, indulging in the smooth warmth of her cheek against his palm and the way her pulse fluttered where the pad of his little finger rested below her earlobe.

"Pathan." His name was a whisper, a sigh, a sacred vow on her lips, "I'm more scared of this monster." Sneha skimmed a petal-soft fingertip over the head of his cock, tracing the flared ridge of the crown and the dewy slit of the tip. Then her touch teased down his length, all the way to the root.

Her touch was so sudden, and delicate that his sturdy legs thrashed on the silky carpet. Sneha moaned that a handful of his pre-cum had glued her fingers firmly around his cock.

"Beast." Sneha murmured deliciously, and his tongue took advantage of her opened mouth to plunder its depths. Sneha moaned in his mouth, as his tongue parried and thrust with acute precision, wearing down her defenses until she felt herself wanting to surrender to his expert touch. The hard length of his arousal pressed against her stomach, no longer a weapon to be feared but an instrument of pleasure. Yet, she was still half-afraid to touch him, but kissed him back, and her erect nipple kissed his.

"Fuck...!" Pathan groaned against her lips. "When will you beg for chudai?"

Then all at once he caught her hand, as if he could stand it no longer, and guided it down the tight grid of his belly, between the ridge of his hips. Straight to the heart of him.

She gasped in shock when he dragged her hand to her pussy. Her eyes flew wide. It was a caress as outrageously shocking as when he'd slid his fingers inside her married pussy; as bold and daring as the man himself.

"Oh, Pathan!" Sneha stuttered his name, part-question, part jarringly shocked. Using her own fingers her stroked and spread the folds of her sex, and then he was pushing them inside her again, and her moans became uncontrollable. Helplessly she collapsed on his chest. She bit at the coarse skin of his shoulder, hoping to stop him. His monster cock throbbed between her heavy breast, like a wounded bird.

She fought for control as the big, burly man continued to tease and titillate beyond that which her body could defend. She begged, sobbed, groaned, even cursed, and she heard him laugh softly as he drove her into a shattering burst of rapture. Breathing deeply, she filled her nostrils with his spicy scent, and sliding her arms around his neck, her lips moved to his ear, and Sneha murmured; "Take me, bastard."

Pathan smiled, pleased at her reaction. He gave her no time to settle into stoic acceptance; instead he teased her, "What?" he probed removing their adjoined fingers from her blazing pussy.

"Fuck you." Sneha squawked, but her knees gave in, collapsing her on the lush carpet.

Hushing her with his mouth, he lifted and turned her roughly until she was lying on her stomach. Dazed and shaking, Sneha felt his hands on her ankle, and he spread her as a book. She couldn't tear her gaze away, as she watched him settling in the lee of her thighs. Despite the inherent shame, somehow she was captivated by the display of raw, unfettered male strength and raw lust.

Their eyes met, it stunned him to see the animalistic hunger in her eyes. He looked at her like a stranger, someone he had never seen before, and Sneha looked at him like he had been lost to her for a thousand years and finally found. That was his redemption. The hope of winning her heart was the solace from the agonizing longing for her.

"Say it, you want my cock." Pathan's voice took on a seductive tenor, and he teased her, slapping his heavy monster over her pussy.

She screwed her eyes shut, in agitation. But, what shocked her was the sound echoing at those slaps, as if he was beating a wet cloth. She had never been so wet in her life. Her own liquid heat surprised her. Despite being married for a decade, she'd felt nothing like this fire-and-ice jolt of awareness before.

With a helpless little moan, her both hands wander over the lush carpet to grab something. She wanted to yell at him for this torture, but the power of words had once again deserted her. The expectation was climbing, like her lust, spiraling high and fast, taking her by storm, and she grunted aloud, as bulbous cock-head, parted her pussy lips.

"Oh, boy...!" Sneha cried out. Even at the tip of his monster, her body filled with a liquid rush of delight, a shudder of expectation. She spread her legs wider.

Instead of pushing - Pathan pulled back. He wanted to fuck her brain out - with all the finesse and grace of a stallion at stud. But he didn't—he was wary, once they're done, her hate will return, and he would lose what he'd just built up between them. He did not want the mask of hatred and stoicism to mar her lovely features.

"Ohhh...!" Sneha shrieked, whimpering in distress. Her pussy clenched hard, needing to be filled, but she could barely breathe, much less string two words together to abuse him or be him for what she wanted.

"You'll not hate me, after this," Pathan grunted, revealing his hidden fears.

"I hate you already, you fucking saddest," Sneha cried out with intense frustration. Her gaze turned reproachful.

Pathan laughed, and in one brutal thrust he slammed her married pussy against his meat, her channel resisted his girth utterly, only allowing a few inches of him.

"Ah, Pathan," Sneha exhaled a loud cry, and arched her spine as pleasure and pain overlapped into a singular sensation, transcending all other perceptions of discomfort and need. It didn't matter that it hurt, as the pain was fleeting and brief. Her body shook with violent spasms, gripping the hard organ without a clue that it's only half of it

Pathan felt a gush of juices, bathing him his cock head, in a warm reception. He never had experienced any woman shuddering - with only half of his cock inside her. He looked at this epitome of lust in disbelief, and withdrawing his monster — Pathan hammered it back with every ounce of energy in his body, till his balls corked her cunt.

"Ahh! O.. Oh!... Aghh! AAAH!" Sneha was yearning for him in her — but, the pleasure of Pathan's cock was something beyond ecstasy — beyond a bliss. A lush, decadent pleasure unwound within her, snaking through her veins — as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years. Waiting on this moment. Waiting on this man. Sneha began to weep in that pleasure.