Mother of Me

Chapter 27: The Night the Mask Fell

The house was quiet when the new Sangeetha returned from the shop. Selvam had left earlier saying he had some work, and the new Prakash had gone for a late-night movie with friends. For the first time in many days, she was alone.

She changed out of her lavender saree into a soft, light pink cotton nighty. The fabric clung gently to her curves, her heavy breasts moving freely underneath without a bra. She removed her bangles and earrings but kept the mangalsutra on, she was too scared to take it off anymore. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, she lay on the bed, scrolling through her phone mindlessly, trying to distract herself from the constant fear that had become her life.

The clock showed 11:47 PM when she heard the main door open.

Selvam entered the bedroom. He was visibly drunk. His eyes were red, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and he carried a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. The strong smell of alcohol filled the room instantly.

At first, he smiled gently.

“Sangeetha… my beautiful wife,” he slurred, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. “You looked so good today. I missed you.”

The new Sangeetha forced a small smile, her body already tensing. She tried to sit up, but Selvam pushed her back down softly.

“Shhh… relax,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

For a few moments, his touch remained almost loving. He ran his fingers through her long hair, smelling it. Then, without warning, his expression changed.

His hand suddenly cracked across her face in a sharp, stinging slap.

THWACK!

The new Sangeetha’s head snapped to the side. Pain exploded across her cheek. Before she could scream, Selvam clamped his large, rough hand over her mouth.

“You think you can fool me, you bitch?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “One month I’ve been patient. One month I’ve played the loving husband. But I know something is wrong with you.”

With his other hand, he yanked up her nighty roughly, exposing her thighs. He grabbed the waistband of her black panty and ripped it down her legs in one violent motion. The panty, slightly damp from a full day of wear and the earlier sanitary pad, came off completely.

He shoved the salty, musky panty into her mouth, stuffing it deep.

“Eat your own pussy smell, whore,” he hissed.

The new Sangeetha’s eyes widened in pure terror. The taste was humiliating, salty, slightly tangy, the intimate scent of her own vagina filling her mouth. She tried to scream, but only muffled sounds came out.

Selvam slapped her again. Harder.

THWACK! THWACK!

Tears streamed down her face as he tore off her nighty completely, leaving her naked on the bed. When she tried to push him away, he grabbed both her wrists and tied them tightly above her head using the saree pallu he had yanked off earlier. He then tied her ankles together, spreading her legs slightly.

Completely helpless, naked, and gagged, the new Sangeetha lay trembling.

Selvam stood up and looked at her body like a predator. He took a long swig from the whiskey bottle, then slowly began smelling her, from her hair, down her neck, licking her freshly shaved armpits with long, wet strokes of his tongue, tasting the slight saltiness of her sweat. He buried his face between her heavy breasts, inhaling deeply, then sucked hard on her nipples, biting them until she cried out into the panty gag.

“You are my property,” he growled, slapping her breasts hard, watching them jiggle. “Nothing more than a hole for me to fuck. My loyal little wife who waited eight years with her legs closed… or did you?”

He positioned himself between her tied legs. His thick, hard cock pressed against her vagina. Without any warning or lubrication, he thrust into her brutally.

The new Sangeetha’s eyes rolled back in agony. The pain was searing as he forced himself deep inside her tight, unprepared pussy. He began fucking her hard long, violent strokes that made her entire body jolt. Her heavy breasts bounced wildly with every thrust. The wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping flesh filled the room.

While pounding into her mercilessly, he leaned down and whispered into her ear:

“I was never a mercenary, you stupid bitch. I joined a terrorist group in Afghanistan. I killed people. I made money from blood. And now I’m back… and you will remain my wife forever. You will spread your legs for me every night. You will give me children. You will obey me like a proper whore.”

He fucked her even harder, gripping her thighs bruisingly, grunting like an animal. The new Sangeetha could only cry silently, her body betraying her with unwanted wetness as her vagina was used roughly. Every thrust sent waves of pain and unwanted sensation through her core. Her tied hands struggled uselessly. The panty in her mouth kept her muffled screams contained.

After what felt like an eternity, Selvam groaned loudly and came deep inside her, filling her with hot, thick seed. He collapsed on top of her sweaty, trembling body, still buried inside her.

The new Sangeetha stared at the ceiling with dead eyes, tears flowing endlessly.

The illusion of the “changed man” had completely shattered.

The real Selvam had returned.

And there was no escape.