Sarpanch ki randi-3

Anamika's POV

Last night was a fucking hot 🥵. My body still feels his touch—the heat, the passion, the madness.

I reached out, my hand grazing his rock-hard abs. Instinctively, I snuggled closer, my skin craving his warmth. My pussy started getting wet in needing his cock .

His morning erection was stode like a rode —for the chaos we are going to create.

"My lovely daddy cock," I whispered, brushing aside the blanket and sliding on top of him. 

He stirred, his lips curling into a lazy grin. "Kya randi, teri chut ko subah-subah lund chahiye?" His morning voice was a melody of husky dominance. 

"Hoo, daddy! Don't tell me you’re too tired to fuck me now?" I teased, rocking my hips slightly to taunt him. 

That did it. His eyes darkened, the smirk on his lips replaced by raw hunger. "Do you think I’m weak? I’ll show you who’s boss." 

With a growl, he flipped me beneath him, driving into me with force. I cried out, my moans echoing off the walls. Each thrust felt like it would split me apart, but I welcomed it—needed it. 

"Saali, tujhe kitna bhi chodo, kabhi man nahi bharta," he grunted, gripping my waist tightly, pulling me closer with each stroke. 

"Ahhh, daddy! Yes, just like that!" My cries turned into whimpers, and the pleasure blinded me. 

But then… her voice

"Anamika beta, kaha hai tu?" 

Shit ! My grandmother. Of all times, why now? 

"Vikrant, stop! They're here," I hissed, panic rising in my chest. 

"Toh?" he asked, smirking wickedly, not slowing down. 

"They’ll hear us!" 

"That’s your problem, baby," he whispered, biting my neck. 

Before I could protest further, he picked me up, impaling me deeper onto his cock. "This is called air-fucking, jaan," he growled, bouncing me on him as if my protests were nothing. 

"Stop, stop, stop!" I tried to clamp my mouth shut to muffle the moans, but he didn’t care. The devil in him was unleashed, and there was no stopping him. 

"Arey, Vikrant beta, kya tu so raha hai?" my grandfather called out from downstairs. 

My heart stopped. Why won’t this man stop ? ! 

But instead of slowing, Vikrant smirked. "Kya situation hai, baby. Teri dadi niche hai aur tu meri upar." He thrust harder, pinning me against the door. 

"You bastard!" I hissed, trying to push him off, but his grip was unyielding. 

Finally, with a deep groan, he spilled into me, his release leaving me shaking and weak. 

"Rasili hai teri chut," he murmured, pulling out. His seed dripped down my thighs, a reminder of how he owned me entirely. 

I could barely stand. My knees buckled, but he caught me, smirking. "Dekha? Tumhe chod ke itna weak kar diya ki khud chal bhi nahi sakti." 

I glared at him, but his cocky grin only grew. 

Breakfast Table

The air at the breakfast table was tense. I was trying to avoid eye contact with Vikrant, who sat directly across from me, his smirk still etched on his face. 

"Anamika," my grandmother began, sitting beside me. "You’re going to live here from now on." 

"What?!" I shot up from my chair, my voice laced with disbelief. 

"You’re living alone in Mumbai, beta. It’s not safe for you. We will find a match for you , Get ready to be married " 

"Who the hell are you to tell me this , huhh ? I snapped.

"And where was this concern when my mother was alive? You treated her like an outcast for marrying my father who is a lower caste than you " 

Her face angered but my grandfather cut in. "We only did what was right. Your father was a low-caste bastard who ruined your mother’s life." 

"Shut up!" I shouted, slamming my hands on the table. "You’re the ones who ruined her life, not him! You threw her out, and now you want to control me? By marrying me ? Never!" 

"If you leave, you’ll get nothing from us. No money, no support," my grandfather warned, his tone was cold and final. 

"I don’t need your damn money!" I spat back. 

I stormed out of the room, tears blurring my vision. I ran to my room, throwing my belongings into a bag. Vikrant stood in the doorway, watching silently. 

"So this is it?" I asked him, my voice trembling. "You said I was yours. You said no one else could have me. Were those lies, Vikrant?" 

He didn’t answer. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken. 

---

I left that house, tears streaming down my face as I boarded a bus back to Mumbai. My heart was shattered, not just by my family’s betrayal but by Vikrant’s too. 

I had no money, no family, no love. Only my mother’s jewelry remained—a faint glimmer of hope in this cruel, selfish world. 

As the bus moved, I stared out the window, the weight of everything crushing me. I had given my body, my soul, my everything—and for what? 

Now, I have nothing.

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Id - Anamikasmut