Rohit had a smirk on his face. In front of him, Aisha was panting, sitting naked on his bed. Her face was smeared with all of his semen she had failed to swallow.
Her body shook—not from weakness but rage. Her fists curled tight as her voice cracked with fury."You bastard… how could you? You call yourself a man? You promised—"
Rohit cut in,"So what?" He put his hands on his waist. "I only borrowed one of the little tricks you once played on others. Did the boomerang hit you harder than you expected?"
Aisha froze. His words stabbed deeper than the act itself. She remembered—how she and her friends once cornered a junior, tricked her into humiliating herself, then recorded it and laughed for weeks. At the time, it was just a prank. Now, sitting on the receiving end, it didn't feel like a joke at all.
Her lips quivered, but no argument came. He had stripped her last weapon—the right to play the victim. Despair seeped through her chest, smothering her anger, choking her breath: "This can't be happening… it can't be…" But the whisper dissolved into nothing, and her world went dark.
After an hour.
She woke up and found herself sleeping in a fluffy bed under a blanket. For a moment, she thought it was a dream—just a nightmare."Fuck… thank god…" she whispered, yawning.
However, her words caught in her throat as she found unfamiliar clothes on her body.The room wasn't hers either. And then his voice came from the desk.
"Evening, princess. Hope you didn't mistake what happened earlier for some bad dream," Rohit said without turning, his eyes fixed on excel sheets.
Aisha quickly curled up as she staggered back to the corner of the bed,"Please… please don't come near me."
Rohit finally shut the laptop, swiveling his chair to face her. His tone was unnervingly casual."No need to panic. If I wanted more, I had plenty of time while you were out."
A flicker of relief passed over Aisha as she checked her body again. These clothes were of Rohit's usual wear, and she could feel her crotch not being violated—though a faint wetness remained.
She asked cautiously,"What… do you want?"
Rohit replied without breaking eye contact,"A deal. Your fate's sealed whether you like it or not. But… I can make it less miserable. If you want me to spare your precious virginity, then I expect something more valuable in return."
She almost turned to tears and clasped her hands,"Please… anything but that. I can't… I don't want to be ruined for my future husband."
Rohit let out a laugh."Worried about a hymen, huh? But you don't even flinch when a dildo's ramming your ass."
Aisha only sobbed in response, which made Rohit a bit serious. He recalled it was quite normal in Indian societies where girls are supposed to keep their hymen intact for their husbands, as many males fall out from marriage if that is not the case. She didn't want her future to fall apart, and so she was serious.
Rohit found the system quite hypocritical, where girls would generally keep boyfriends, suck their cocks and, in her case, even be willing to take it in the ass but still keep the hymen intact so that the husband doesn't doubt. Surely she wasn't the exception.
With a shrug, he gave in."Fine. I won't press further. But don't get too comfortable—you're still my pet. My little stress relief, whenever I want. If you really want this to end, make yourself useful. Give me something worth more than a body I can already claim."
Aisha commented,"You are a bastard."
His grin widened."Maybe. But don't act like you didn't feel it. You squirted like a broken faucet"
Her face burned red with shame."I am not a slut. We have no real feelings."
"Then prove it," Rohit shot back. "Be useful. Bring me information… or bring me your body. The only mercy I'll give you is leaving your precious virginity intact. That's the deal."
Her eyes glistened. After a long pause, she asked in a small voice,"So… if I become useful, you'll spare me?"
"Yes," he nodded, leaning back. "And since you're here, let's start. Tell me—how the hell have you avoided Victor this long? What's keeping him from breaking you like everyone else?"
Aisha bit her lips as she gazed down. She felt conflicted only for a while as she stated,"He won't because I have got a lead of his weakness. Since then he has stopped."
Rohit leaned in with excitement,"And what is that?"
Aisha warned,"That… would be dangerous. I was myself shocked and he has threatened me to kill if the word got leaked out."
Rohit smiled,"Oh… then that must be big. Spill out."
Aisha hesitated but Rohit pressed on,"Don't worry, you are my pet. I won't let any harm befall you. You can trust me regarding your safety."
Aisha finally relented,"He is involved in drugs. He brings drugs to school and his whole gang is involved in this. I have taken photos of him dealing with the peddlers."
Rohit asked, being skeptical,"But it wasn't on the phone?"
She added,"It was stored in cloud. I was afraid but also wanted to keep the deterrence."
Rohit frowned, his mind drifting back to the tangled web of gang hierarchies at school. Each group had its own rules, its own turf, often forming uneasy alliances or bitter rivalries for dominance. Harsha's crew carried the weight of his uncle's position as dean, giving them clout on paper. But in truth, it was Victor's gang everyone answered to. They were the ones whispered about as kings of the campus, the real shadow rulers behind the chaos.
In a school full of elites, where pride was the currency and arrogance the norm, Victor's grip had always been a puzzle. What did he have that kept the other gangs bowing their heads? Rohit suspected the answer wasn't charm or charisma—it was leverage. Maybe drugs. Maybe worse. Whatever it was, it turned him into the "golden leader" of a pack of psychopaths.
A slow smile spread across his lips. "Very well, my dear pet. I got your new pair of clothes ordered online . Don't nag about the choice, wear it and leave. " Then he turned to his laptop and resumed his coding," And not a word about our deal."
Aisha stood up as she saw the new packet kept on the bed. She took the packet and went to the bathroom for a change. After a few moments she came out wearing a good-looking casual top and skirt matching her size.
She hesitated at the door."Take your old ones too," Rohit added flatly. "The last thing I want is to get caught because of that."
Her fingers tightened around the pile she had collected. She nodded, grabbed the rest, and left without a word.
Rohit exhaled, a heavy, irritated sigh. He'd put a leash on her, yes, but the leash didn't mean control. She was still unstable, unpredictable—a problem waiting to erupt.
For now, he needed a break. He thumbed through his contacts and called Seo-yeon. Her voice lit up the moment she answered, bright and eager, but he gave her nothing—only small talk and vague details of "whatever happened" to him. She sounded worried, even offered to come over.
"No," he cut her off gently, citing a doctor's recommendation to stay home and rest. "Besides, we'll be meeting at Namrata's place tomorrow."Her enthusiasm dimmed. Then the series of questions started—rapid, persistent like a dam breaking.
Rohit pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to narrate his chaos, not now. He just wanted her off his back so he could work."I'll explain later," he promised softly. "Don't worry."And with that, she finally let him go.
He glanced at the clock. 7:15 p.m. Beside his laptop lay another phone—Tanya's. He left it untouched. He'd had enough shocks for the day; the passcode could wait.
Instead, he focused on the numbers sprawled across his screen—targets. Dozens of them. Names from business, politics, the police force. People he could exploit. People he could ruin.
To bait them, he needed a spectacle. A viral hook.He had one.
Using his "Click-to-View" generator plugin, Rohit had transformed a fake Kashmiri model account into an overnight sensation. AI-generated images, micro-gestures, captions—it all looked authentic. Views that once struggled to cross 3,000 now racked up in the millions. A perfect, fabricated hotshot.
But virality wasn't enough. Now he needed scandal.
He planned to leak an explicit video of genuine looking, self masturbation porn of that kashmiri model, stitched and reshaped through his plugins—to fake media accounts and trigger a frenzy. Curiosity was his trap. Desperation would be his net.
The plan was simple. First, approach his victims through the fake profile for "help." Then, from another random profile, send the leaked video link. Let them search for authenticity, click out of excitement, and walk straight into his malware.
Random porn clips wouldn't work; people would sniff out the scam. It had to be custom, micro-edited, believable to the last pixel. He even planned to post few fake media articles to garner the hype. Thanks to AI, he was confident to achieve this all in one night.
Rohit hunched over his desk for hours, splicing and re-rendering with Blender, feeding it all into his AI plugins. Four hours later, the uncensored clip was ready. His masterpiece of digital rot.
Then the real game began. The first message went out—to the damned doctor, disguised as a patient. The next, to his elder sister, posing as a potential employee. Then to DCP Divyani as a fake NGO activist. On and on the list went upto 200 but he hardly reached 50-60, until fatigue dragged at his eyelids.
He slumped forward and dozed off at the desk.
It was 12:30 midnight when his phone vibrated. His eyes flicked open, vision swimming.
A missed call from his mother blinked on the screen. Then a message notification soon followed into view:
"Rohit, can you come to my room?"