The room was dimlh lit with scented candles spreading fragrance. The balcony door still open with the flowing wind inside the intimate sounds from them echoed.

Rose petals lay withered over the bed spread randomly now crippling under them. The white jasmine hung around the bed from the bed posts spread wild sensual sweet smell as if they can awoke thirst in them better than the humanised flower that's being crippled by him yet taken care of right now.

The saree laid over the other side of the bed as she laid naked under him with her legs parted by his arms as his head nestled between her. Her vermillion smithered away from her haircline messily and her open hairs sprawled over the pillow, her bangles clanking, runied mascara and the sacred thread laying between her breasts. She moaned and writhed in guilty pleasure as he tortured her through sexual play.

Her feet on his shoulders tried to push him away but he held her feet tight as his mouth feasted on her vertical lips. Still hooking her legs through his upper arms her feet strained over his shoulders his hands pinning her body on the bed with her hands locked in his hands he buried his face into the lotus flower and tucked the bud of its with his teeth.

A helpless moan escaped her, tangled with a desperate cry as the sensation shattered through her defenses.

Then his warm tongue put strong pressure on making her clench her thighs to his head. He managed to hold her both hands in his one as with his other hand he parted her vertical lips and stroked it all through the length. Her legs shivered as she gasped, a lone tear passing through her closed eyes. He closed his lips on hers as his warm tongue entered into her hole. Her chest rose as she breathed harshly.

What she never new was his tongue can be this manipulative in other ways. Her wrists squirmed in his grip, fury burning beneath her skin angry at her part as for why even she questioned herself or her self consciousness. She cursed the betrayal of her body—blaming it on the cruel aftermath of desire.

A cry tore from her lips as her head fell back, chest arching high, while his tongue moved rapidly against her. His other hand pinched her sensitive nub, drawing another helpless moan from deep within her. He shifted his rhythm—fast, then slow—driving her deeper into a spiral of overwhelming pleasure. Her legs, draped over his shoulders, instinctively tried to push him away, but it was as if she was locked in place, unable to escape the hold he had on her body—and her mind.

A scream tore from her lips, laced with a moan that trembled beneath it, as she shattered with the release.

Her chest rose and fell gently with ragged breaths as she struggled to return to reality, eyes fluttering shut in sheer exhaustion.

He did a number on her. He've been doing this from the evening without any break. She was on pins and needles afraid when he would take it further. But til now,even at the mid night he still hasn't done his main ritual he claimed in the car. For which she is thankful for. He had been kissing her, leaving a trail of marks in a pattern and making her cum again and again from the time they arrived.

Tired and spent she let her body go limp, still trying to regulate her breathing, her eyes began to drift though she wants to fight her sleep as she felt him biting her inner thigh again.

She moaned in protest and tried to move away her legs from him but all she could do was a little movement as he still gripped her. It's been too long he was doing this. Giving up she let her self close her eyes surrendering to the sleep completely and choose to not care about him between her legs. In her sleep the last she felt is his hand caressing her face and hairs.

*****

The orange hue of sunlight fell on her face as she shifted her position, blinking slowly as her eyes began to open. She blinked a few more times, looking down at herself, wrapped in a long cloth from her chest. Slowly, she sat up on the bed, her long hair falling over her face. With her hand, she swept the strands aside as she contemplated.

He hadn't fucked her last night. That left her utterly surprised, considering he had terrified her in the car, threatening that he would bed her day and night in the room. Closing her eyes with contempt, she sighed in relief. But she knew the relief was short-lived, as she was sure he would claim her tonight.

Her eyes fell on the sacred thread around her neck—the nuptial chain. Her fragile fingers took it in hand as she examined it with longing eyes.

This was the second time she was married, wasn't it? The irony? She was married to her dead husband's stepbrother. Both of them shared a common aim: destroying her. While she merely desired a normal relationship, bound by this sacred thread, one was dead, and the other was determined to give her a taste of death. She let it drop from her fingers as she got down and walked to the washroom.

After bathing, she walked out wrapped in a yellow saree. Her hair strands, wet from the shower, clung to her skin. She walked to the bed and sat back with her knees folded, resting her back against the headboard, her hands locking her legs in place. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her hands, staring into nothingness, her eyes still drooping with sleep.

She had no plans to leave the room or do anything. She wasn't obliged to do anything. Back then, she did whatever it took to survive. Now, with her life locked here, she felt no need to do anything—not even eat for her dear life. She decided to die doing nothing, just as she had been unable to do anything while he was marrying her. She had done her part in refusing, but all of it had been futile.

Her eyes shut tightly, trying to rely on the little moments of silence and peace. Her wet strands curtained her face, the air from the balcony offering a soothing breeze.

Her peace was broken when his fingers snapped in front of her. Her eyes flew open, and their gazes clashed.

Her hazel self with his greedy grey ones.

Stiffly and reluctantly, she adjusted her posture, sitting upright as he settled into the chair opposite her. His gaze swept over her, a slow perusal from head to toe, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips as he took in her appearance—her fair skin glowing beneath the cascade of dark hair, reminiscent of fresh sunshine.

But when his eyes landed on her bare hairline, the smile vanished, replaced by a darkening gaze. Her shoulders tensed under his scrutiny, sensing his displeasure.

Rising from the bed, he strode to the dressing table, returning with several items in hand. Placing them on the side he took bundle of bangles as he slid them to both of her fragile wrists.

Later a vermillion was applied on the partition of her hair and the earrings were pierced to her lobes.

"This is how I expect you to be daily—adorned in jewelry. Not like the widow you resembled just now. Remember, your husband is alive."

Her eyes met his, a mixture of defiance and resignation, before she looked away, dismissing his preferences. She felt no obligation to answer him or conform to his expectations. What more could he do? He had already married her. What was left?

Her eyes widened in realization.

Children. He had mentioned his intention to have children with her. She resolved not to let that happen.

"Did you hear me?"

His voice rose, attempting to rouse her from her thoughts. She turned her face away, providing her answer. A harsh, deep breath escaped him, and through her lashes, she saw his broad chest expand.

"Fine. Let's have breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"Still, you have to eat."

"I don't want to."

"I don't care."

"I have no appetite."

"I still don't fucking care."

"I'll eat later."

"It's 10:30 a.m."

She sighed tiredly, ending the banter.

"I want to eat fruits."

"We have fruits."

"I want specific ones."

"Which ones?"

She licked her lips before speaking.

"Something like strawberries or pineapple. Or oranges and papaya."

She didn't look up, waiting for his reply. The deafening silence compelled her to glance up hesitantly, only to find him looking down at her suspiciously. Bending down to her level, he spoke.

"Pineapple and papaya? I want you to speak exactly what's on your mind right now, Asha."