Before Rohan left for the office and Arjun for school, Sonia knelt in the courtyard, naked but for the collar and plug, milk dripping. She took Rohan’s cock in her mouth, drinking his hot, bitter pee as it streamed, then turned to Arjun, who giggled, “Mommy’s drinking juice!” She sipped his innocent offering, the act a twisted ritual of her depravity. Mrs. Patel, watching from the window, stood speechless, her hands trembling. “Sonia will never change,” she whispered to herself, her voice heavy with defeat. Sonia grinned, her pussy wet, “I’m a whore, Ma, and I fucking love it.” She kissed Rohan and Arjun goodbye, their innocence untouched, her heart racing with pride.
That afternoon, Sonia strutted to a temple fair, the air alive with bhajans and the sizzle of street food, her sheer black camisole barely covering her ass, milk leaking, pussy and plug on display. Devotees in traditional attire gawked, some clutching prayer beads, others whispering, “Shameless slut.” Sonia’s clit throbbed, her body electric with their judgment. In a back tent, she fucked a priest, mid-40s, and a vendor, late 20s, their cocks pounding her pussy and mouth, cum splashing her clit and face, milk spraying the ground. Each paid ₹1500, the notes sticking to her skin. Rakesh appeared, leashing her naked body, parading her through the crowd, whipping her ass, the plug searing with each strike. He offered her to three devotees, mid-30s, who fucked her pussy, mouth, and ass around the plug, cum drenching her, paying ₹1000 each. Sonia screamed, “I’m a whore, and I own it!” her orgasms relentless. Neighbors Mr. Nair and Mrs. Gupta watched, muttering, “Disgrace.” Nia ran up, giggling, “Mommy’s shiny!” Arjun asked, “What’s that goo?” Sonia knelt, “Just festival paint, kids.” They hugged her, running off, her heart pounding.
One evening, Sonia crashed a neighbor’s card party at Mr. Gupta’s house, the room thick with cigar smoke and the clink of glasses. In a sheer red camisole, milk dripping, clit exposed, the plug glinting, she served drinks, her pussy bared. Men in suits stared, their eyes hungry. In a bedroom, she fucked three players, mid-40s, their cocks in her pussy, mouth, and ass around the plug, cum splashing her clit, face, and inside, each paying ₹2000. Rakesh tied her wrists with rope, fucked her ass, whipped her milk-soaked breasts, cumming inside, making her lick him clean. Two servants, early 20s, fucked her pussy, cum on her face, paying ₹500 each. Sonia moaned, “I’m a fucking whore!” Mrs. Nair shouted, “Disgusting!” Sonia laughed, “Jealous?” Arjun and Nia, visiting with friends, saw her, Nia chirping, “Mommy’s sparkly!” Arjun asked, “Why’s your face sticky?” Sonia said, “Just game glitter, kids.” They hugged her, unaware, her pride burning.
At a community rooftop dance, Bollywood music pulsing under fairy lights, Sonia in a sheer white camisole, milk dripping, clit out, fucked four men, mid-20s to 30s, their cocks in her pussy, mouth, and ass, cum drenching her, each paying ₹1000. Rakesh harnessed her, parading her cum-soaked body, whipping her thighs, the plug searing. A DJ and neighbor fucked her pussy and mouth, cum on her face, paying ₹1500 each. Sonia screamed, “I’m unstoppable!” Mr. Gupta filmed, neighbors calling her “slut.” Nia giggled, “Mommy’s shiny!” Arjun asked, “What’s that mess?” Sonia said, “Dance powder, kids.” They hugged her, running off, Rohan’s absence a hollow ache.