The first spank was swift and shocking, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body, and he jerked in response, the fabric of the nighty fluttering around his thighs. She had chosen a spot on his butt that was still sensitive from their earlier assault, and the pain was intense, a white-hot brand searing into his flesh. “If you move,” she whispered, her voice cold and deadly, “I will get you killed.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine. He nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control his breathing. He could feel the stickiness of the cum on his face, mixing with the tears and saliva that had pooled around the gag. The first spank was almost gentle, a warning of what was to come. It made him jump, but the pain was manageable. But the second one was different. It was a powerful smack that sent him stumbling forward, the sheet slipping a little, revealing his trembling form to their eager eyes. He could feel the fabric of the nighty stretch tight across his backside as he struggled to stay in place. The third spank was a blur of pain, a searing heat that made him want to scream, but all that came out was a muffled groan.
The girl‘s laughter grew louder with each smack, her hand falling with increasing force. The others cheered her on, their eyes glinting with malicious excitement. They whispered among themselves, their words indistinct, but the tone was clear: they were enjoying his torment. The spanking continued, a rhythmic dance of pain and humiliation that seemed to have no end. Each impact made Rahul’s body jerk and his muscles tighten, the fabric of the nighty sticking to his skin like a second layer of punishment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the spanking stopped. The room was quiet except for the heavy breathing of the teens and the muffled sounds of their amusement. They stepped back, leaving Rahul hunched over, his body aching and his mind racing. He could feel their eyes on him, watching, waiting for any sign of movement.
Slowly, the footsteps grew faint, retreating into the hallway. They turned on the TV. Rahul’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat a reminder of the horror he had just endured. He didn’t dare move, he was frozen in the position they had forced upon him. The gag was still in place, the rag pressing against his teeth and tongue, the taste of their cum a reminder of his violation. The bedsheet was a cocoon of torment, sticking to his sweat-drenched nighty, the cum on his face and bum slowly drying, leaving a cold sticky residue that clung to his skin. His legs, already weak from the earlier assault, now trembled with pain and exhaustion. He could feel the muscles in his thighs quivering, begging for release from the strain of holding his bent position.
They leave quietly with the TV on.
The room was eerily quiet now. The apartment had noise of TV, all must be there he thought. Rahul’s legs burned with pain as he remained in the degrading position, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining it. He didn’t dare move, fearful that any sound would bring them back to continue their twisted games. He slowly starts to peek from the corner of bedsheet to see that they are not there. He quietly scans his whole house for them, walking room to room striding his legs in the nighty. Once reassured, he sits on sofa, pulling dupatta from the dry cum on his face and. He then sits there for an hour more resting his legs now paining from the position.