The sun had barely crested the horizon when Sonia stepped into the driveway, her sheer white camisole clinging to her 34DD breasts, the fabric already damp with leaking milk that dribbled onto the gravel. The hem barely grazed her thighs, her shaved pussy—shaped into a sharp arrow—glistening beneath, her clit swollen and eager. The crystal butt plug nestled deep in her ass sparkled as she moved, and the silver “WHORE” collar gleamed around her throat, a proud declaration. Rohan, in a crisp kurta, loaded bags into the car, his eyes glinting with dark intent. “Three days at the hill station,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You’ll wear only this on the way, fuck whoever I choose, wherever I choose—on the road, at the stay, on the way back. You’re my whore, Sonia, and you’ll show it.” Her breath quickened, her cunt tightening at his words. She pressed herself against him, her pussy grinding against his dhoti, milk soaking through. “I’m yours,” she purred, her fingers brushing his jaw. “Bring them to me.”
Arjun and Nia burst from the house, their small backpacks bouncing, their giggles cutting through the tension. “Mommy’s sparkly!” Nia chirped, pointing at the plug’s glinting base. “Why’s your shirt wet?” Arjun asked, his head tilted. Sonia smiled, her heart racing with the thrill of their innocence. “Just milk, sweetie,” she cooed, “Mommy’s special juice.” They hugged her sticky waist, unaware of the fire simmering beneath her skin.
The car wound through the city’s edge, the air growing cooler as they climbed toward the hills. At a dusty petrol station, Rohan nodded toward three truck drivers smoking by their rigs. “Go,” he commanded. Sonia slid out, her camisole riding up, her pussy and plug exposed. The men stared, their cigarettes forgotten as she sauntered over, hips swaying. She led them behind a rusted shed, the ground gritty underfoot. One fucked her pussy, his thick cock slamming into her, cum spilling over her clit as milk sprayed the wall. Another took her mouth, his cum streaking her face, the plug intensifying her climax. The third fucked her ass around the plug, groaning as he came, slipping ₹500 into her camisole. She returned to the car, cum and milk dripping, her breath ragged. Rohan’s smirk was fierce. “Good whore,” he murmured, pulling back onto the road.
The hill station emerged through the mist—jagged peaks, pine-scented air, and a bustling market nestled in the valley. Their cottage sat on a cliff’s edge, its wooden walls weathered, offering seclusion yet proximity to the town’s pulse. Sonia stripped off her camisole the moment they arrived, her naked body stark against the cozy interior, milk pooling on the floor, her pussy glistening. Rohan’s gaze was unyielding. “You’ll stay naked here,” he ordered. “Fuck whoever comes, whenever I say.” Her clit pulsed, her body alive with anticipation.
While Arjun and Nia napped, Sonia ventured into the market, her nakedness a shockwave through the crowd. The air was sharp, the streets alive with vendors and tourists. She fucked a wool merchant, mid-40s, behind his stall, his cock pounding her pussy, cum drenching her clit, milk splattering his crates. A tourist, early 30s, joined, fucking her mouth, his cum coating her face, each slipping ₹1000 into her collar. She returned to the cottage, cum and milk trailing down her thighs, her skin flushed. Rohan licked her clean, his tongue tracing every drop, then fucked her against the cottage door, the wood creaking, the plug grinding deeper.