One sultry morning, Sonia stood naked in the master bedroom of their new one-story bungalow, its tiled courtyard fragrant with tulsi plants, the puja room’s Ganesh idol gleaming faintly, the kitchen heavy with cardamom’s spice. Her 34DD breasts dripped warm milk, dark nipples rigid, her pubic hair shaved into a sharp arrow pointing to her swollen, glistening clit. The “WHORE” collar glinted around her throat, a brazen emblem of her pride. Rohan, eyes ablaze with hunger, twisted the crystal butt plug deeper into her ass, its faceted base catching the dawn light, its weight sending shivers of raw arousal through her core. “New dares,” he growled, his kurta tented with desire. “Wear this to school, to the bazaar, the carnival funhouse, a swinger’s club. Fuck strangers, take their money, let them see your whore’s body, plug and all.” Sonia’s pussy clenched, her clit throbbing like a pulse, slick with need. “Money too?” she whispered, straddling him, her wet cunt grinding against his dhoti, milk soaking his shirt, the plug shifting with delicious pressure. “Prove you’re my shameless whore,” Rohan rasped, licking a bead of milk from her nipple, his tongue hot and possessive.
Arjun and Nia burst in, giggling, “Mommy’s naked!” Nia pointed at the plug’s sparkling base, “Your shiny charm’s so pretty!” Arjun tilted his head, “Still your jewel?” Sonia grinned, her heart racing with the thrill of their innocence. “My special grown-up accessory, kids,” she purred, her voice thick with defiance. Nia hugged her waist, chirping, “You’re sparkly, Mommy!” Arjun nodded, sprinting to the guava tree in the backyard, their acceptance igniting her depravity like a match to dry tinder. Sonia slipped into a sheer red camisole, the fabric clinging to her milk-soaked breasts, the hem grazing her ass cheeks, her clit exposed, the plug faintly visible, a constant reminder of her dares and secret betrayals.
That day, Sonia glided into a school holiday bake sale, the air thick with the scent of jalebis and fresh paint, her sheer red camisole a scandalous veil. Milk dribbled from her nipples, staining the fabric, her clit gleaming under the hem, the “WHORE” collar bold against her throat, the plug flashing with every step. Mothers whispered, their dupattas clutched tightly, one storming to the organizer, her voice shrill, “Her dress is an outrage! That collar, that… thing in her!” Sonia smirked, her pussy dripping at the attention, her body alive with the weight of their judgment. Rohan’s text buzzed: “Fuck three men, take their cash, don’t clean up.” Her cunt throbbed, eager to obey.
In the school kitchen, amidst sacks of flour and the hum of a fridge, Sonia lured a baker, mid-30s, his hands dusted with sugar, a parent volunteer, late 20s, with nervous eyes, and a delivery driver, early 20s, his shirt stained with sweat. She hiked her camisole, the plug glinting like a star, her pussy bared, slick with anticipation. The baker slammed into her cunt, his cock thick and relentless, cumming deep inside, her walls clenching around him. The volunteer fucked her mouth, his thrusts sloppy, cum spurting across her face in hot streaks. The driver shoved into her ass around the plug, the dual pressure sending her into a shuddering orgasm, his cum coating her clit, milk spraying onto the counter. Each pressed crumpled ₹1000 notes into her hands, the money sticking to her sweaty skin. She returned to the sale, cum dripping down her thighs, milk smudging her camisole, peddling cookies amidst parents’ glares. One father muttered, “Whore,” his voice dripping with disgust. Sonia flashed her cum-slicked clit, her arousal spiking at his scorn. Nia ran up, pointing at the plug, “Mommy’s jewel shines!” Arjun giggled, “Why’s your face sticky?” Sonia knelt, her heart pounding, “Just frosting, kids. My charm’s for luck!” Nia laughed, “You’re messy, Mommy!” and they darted off, their innocence a sharp contrast to her depravity.