As they entered the room, he glanced back at her as she quietly closed the door behind them.
His gaze remained fixed on her as she walked to the side table, picked up the jug, and poured water into a glass. He moved silently toward the bed, sitting down but never breaking his stare. With her gaze lowered, she approached him slowly, extending the glass toward him.
"Aapko kaise pata?" she asked, her words hesitant and indirect.
(How did you knew?)
He looked up at her, his eyes intense, and took the glass from her hand. "Mai Multan main nahi rehta hun," he replied, his voice steady. "Tumhare ghar ke chakkar roz lagte the aur dusre din Shabbo se pata chal gaya tha ki tumne badam wala doodh nahi banaya tha."
(I don't live in Multan. I visit your house daily, and by the next day, Shabbo had already told me that you hadn't made the almond milk.)
He took a sip of water, the weight of his words hanging in the silence between them, every glance and gesture deepening the unspoken tension.
"Unko toh main batati hoon! Maine kaha tha kisi ko batana mat," she muttered, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes as if already plotting her revenge.
(I'll deal with her! I told her not to tell anyone.)
"Ek toh chori, upar se seena zori..." he remarked, catching on to her intentions, his voice laced with playful accusation.
(First you do wrong, and then you act defiant...)
She shot him a look, mouth agape. "Maine toh kuch nahi kiya!" she protested, turning away, but he caught her wrist, setting the glass aside on the table.
(I didn't do anything!)
She turned back to face him, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion,"Mujhe samaan rakhna hai",she informed.
(I have to do packing.)
His voice softened, yet held a hint of mischief, "Jhoot bolne ki saza toh milni chahiye."
("There should be a punishment for lying.")
"Nahi..." she whispered, eyes wide with shock, instinctively trying to pull her hand free, fearing he might punish her or something worse.
(No...)
But he tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he gently pulled her closer.
"Mujhe pata hai, aap bohot acche hain, aap saza nahi denge..." she murmured, trying to sweeten her words, smiling nervously in the hope of escaping his grip as the tension in her actions grew intense.
(I know you're very kind; you won't punish me...)
He gazed at her, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he bit down on his lower lip, his eyes roaming from her eyes to her face, then lingering on her lips. Guiding her gently, he had her sit on the edge of the bed.
"Maske maarna kise kehte hai pata hai",he asked and she nodded.
(Do you know what is Buttering?)
His gaze traced every detail of her face before drifting down to her neck.His hand traced from forearm to her shoulder,In one swift, deliberate motion, his hand reached her throat, applying gentle pressure. Her eyes widened in shock as he pushed her to lie back on the bed. She lay down instinctively, her voice trapped in her throat, fearing for a moment that he might choke her.
Her mind was clouded, her thoughts scattered; she couldn't even process if she was looking at his face or if his intense gaze had already consumed her entirely.
His grip tightened just a bit, and his voice broke through her daze, calm yet commanding ,"Upar chado mere."
(Get on top of me.)
Without hesitation and driven by fear, she moved to sit on his stomach, her face inching closer to his, her breaths shaky.
He watched her with a strange, dark thrill. The fear in her eyes stirred something new in him, an unfamiliar satisfaction. He knew that if he kept pushing, she might faint, yet he couldn't help but revel in the way she sat there, wide-eyed and wordless, following his every move without a single thought of her own.
He pulled her face closer to his, and out of fear that he might strangle her, she instinctively leaned in, her body trembling. He wanted to laugh at the situation but fought to keep his amusement in check as he noticed her eyes fixed on his wrist. Her hands hovered near it, not quite touching, as if waiting for the moment he would try to reach out-and when he coke her, she would push his hand away.
Clearing his throat to grab her attention, he let his gaze linger on both of her hands and then spoke, his voice commanding yet soft, "Haath guthno par."
(Hands on your knees.)
Without a second thought, she obeyed immediately.
He wanted to laugh at her innocence, her obedience so sweet and sincere. He noticed her nervous gulp, and it only intensified the heat building inside him, making it harder to suppress his desire.
"Pehle jhoot kaha aur abhi kacchi aur shehed se bhi meethi kheer khilai..."
(First, you lied, and now you feed me something raw and even sweeter than honey-sweetened pudding...)
His whisper slid against her ear as he pulled her closer, his cheek brushing against hers. She shuddered at the sound of his deep, intoxicating voice.
He relished the way she trembled, savoring the thrill it gave him. A smile curled on his lips, his thoughts racing. What is happening to me? he wondered, bewildered by this strange pull between them, enjoying the dominance and control but also feeling a growing need he couldn't deny.
"For God's sake, Raza Chaudhary, she is your wife," his heart urged him, but his mind countered, "She is your wife, Chaudhry. You're not misbehaving, just having a little fun. Who else can you do this with?"
His heart spoke again, "She will fear you..." but his mind silenced it, responding coldly, "This is dominance, nothing more. She will love it. She needs to learn everything. She will love it."
He bit his lip, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her lips, and then he did what he desired.
His hand reached for the shawl slipping from her shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. His fingers traced the curve of her waist as he spoke, his voice low and commanding,
"Thik hai, saza nahi dunga, par tumhe manana padega."
(Fine, I won't punish you, but you will have to persuade me.)
His other hand slid to her wrist, pulling it gently but firmly to his chest, leaving her throat exposed. She instinctively began rubbing her neck, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She wasn't prepared for the next sinful move, but he didn't hesitate.
He pulled her fully onto him by grabbing her back, his hands moving with purpose. His index fingers slid up her spine, his thumbs grazing her sides. Her eyes went wide, terror and confusion mixing in her gaze as her breath caught in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't fathom what was happening. Has he lost his mind? Or is some ghost now living in his body? She thought, desperately trying to make sense of his sudden, intense behavior.
His eyes were locked on hers, intensely studying her as his palms slid to her back, gently urging her to lean closer. Her hands instinctively rested on his chest, her breath quickening under his gaze.
"Angrezi aati hai sahi se?"
(Do you know English properly?)
Her doubt dissolved into certainty-Something is wrong with him? Or why he would shift on the topic of her English, and she nodded, a mix of anticipation and nervousness in her gaze.
"Good... Ek sentence bolta hun, usko translate karogi. Agar nahi kar paai, toh ussi par amal karna padega. Agar nahi kiya, phir saza pakki."
(Good... I'll say one sentence, and you will translate it. If you can't, you'll have to act on it. If you don't, punishment is certain.)
Her expression shifted from shock to a slight sense of relief, but there was still tension in her eyes.
"Kuch asaan dijiye ga, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling. He smiled, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
(Please,Give something easy.)
"Asaan hi hai. Agar translate kar paayi toh karna, nahi tho wo kaam karna aur bhi toh asaan hai."
(It's easy. If you can translate it.Or else doing that is easier than translation.)
Curiosity flickered in her eyes as she asked, "Kya pehle kabhi kiya hai maine?"
(Have I ever done this before?)
He simply nodded, his gaze unwavering.
"Thik hai, chalo, sentence deta hun-Mere honthon par apne honth rakho, aur mujhe manane ke liye jo karna hai karo. Apne honthon, daant aur zubaan ka hi sirf istemaal karo, jab tak mujhe nahi lagta ki tum maafi ke kaabil ho."
(Alright, here's the sentence - Place your lips on mine, and do whatever you must to persuade me. Use only your lips, teeth, and tongue until I feel you are worthy of forgiveness.)
With every word, her face flushed a deep red, her shock mingled with a surge of shame.
"Ye toh pura ek paragraph de diya hai apane, aur ye bhi koi sentence hai? Aapko kuch ho gaya hai," she protested, her voice a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. She tried to stand, but his grip on her tightened, pulling her back down into his grasp.
(You've given a whole paragraph, and is this even a sentence? Something has happened to you.)
"Translate karo, ya phir wo karo. Nahi toh saza milegi, begum."
(Translate it, or do it. Otherwise, punishment is inevitable,Wife.)
There was a playful edge in his voice now, making it clear that he was both serious and enjoying the situation, his eyes gleaming with a challenge.
"Aap kuch nahi karenge mujhe pata hai...", she said, trying once more to pull away, but his grip on her back shifted, going from soft to firm.
(I know you won't do anything...)
"Mai bohot kuch kar sakta hun...",he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as he felt the press of her body against him, unknowingly sitting on his manhood.
(I can do a lot...)
She swallowed hard, her breath catching, and murmured, "Your lips... My lips... meet... your lips meet... your..." Each word tumbled from her lips, her confusion and frustration growing as she looked into his eyes, silently pleading.
A smirk played across his lips, and she realized there was no escape from the cage he had woven around her. She had no choice but to surrender.
"Mujhse nahi ho raha...", she said, her lips quivering with uncertainty, her voice soft and vulnerable. He felt his resolve begin to waver, almost ready to melt at the sight of her innocence. But then, his mind replayed how he had swallowed his desires to spit the kheer earlier when he ate it, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
(I can't do this...)
"Tho jo kaha hai karo..."
His voice was thick with desire, urging her to obey.
(Then do as I said...)
"Mujhse nahi hoga..."
she pouted, hoping he might spare her, but the way her body remained pressed against him betrayed her, making his next words inevitable.
(I can't do it...)
"Phir mai jab aur jaha chahunga, waha tumhe chumunga ye teen din tak.", His tone was firm, no room for negotiation.
(Then, wherever and whenever I want, I'll kiss you for the next three days.)
"Nahii... Please, iss baar maaf kar diyen.", she begged, taking a deep breath, hoping for mercy.
(No... Please, forgive me this time.)
"Maafi nahi milegi. Ye akhri chance hai. Tum tho jaanti hi ho, mai tumhare jaise jhooth nahi bolta hun",he taunted, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
(You won't get Forgiveness. This is your last chance. You know I don't lie like you.)
She looked at him, a hint of sadness in her eyes, knowing there was no turning back.
It felt better to do this here, in private, rather than in front of others, especially when they were guests.
Slowly, she leaned closer to him, and he placed his right hand gently on the side of her neck, his fingers brushing over her jaw and tracing down to her neck, even grazing her ear. She shivered at the contact, her eyes dropping as her lips parted, betraying her vulnerability.
Memories flooded her mind-the first time, the last night, and all the other moments that had come before, but it was the memory of their first kiss that stood out. It had been intense-the way he had gripped her bra, the way her body had pressed against his.
Now, she sat on him, feeling like the lightest thing in the world, a small, delicate object resting against him.
He ran his rough thumb across her cheek, and she closed her eyes, feeling his hot breath fan against her face.

"Saans lo, Halima.", he whispered, his voice low and commanding. She tried to breathe, but the nerves gripped her, making her feel both embarrassed and ashamed, as if what she was doing was somehow wrong for a girl.
(Breathe, Halima.)
For a moment, it felt like this was real punishment of hers.-a test of her will, her strength.
"Saans hi toh nahi lene de rahe hai aap..." she murmured innocently frustrated, and he felt himself melting again, on the verge of giving in.
(You're barely letting me breathe.)
"Accha, bass baatein nahi zyada, kaam karo apna," he commanded, his tone dismissive, masking his amusement with his best attempt at seriousness.
(Alright, enough talking; do what you're supposed to.)
She shot him a slightly irritated look, realizing there was no other way out. Tilting her head, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his for one second before instinctively pulling back. But his hand reached up instantly, cradling her head and drawing her back, so close their noses touched, leaving their lips just a breath apart.
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, only to find him chuckling devilishly. His eyes sparkled with pride, hinting at how well he knew her every move, showing her with just a glance that he was thoroughly enjoying her reaction to his relentless teasing.
"Kya kaha tha maine, jab tak mai na maanu, tab tak nahi hatna hai..." he whispered, his voice a low command.
(What did I say? Don't pull away until I say so...)
She swallowed hard, then leaned in and placed a soft peck on his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze. With a pout, she leaned in once more, pressing her lips gently against his, then pulled back again, searching his eyes as he raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned in a third time, letting her lips linger on his. This time, she didn't pull away, her fingers curling into fists around his shirt as she struggled with the unfamiliar sensations, wondering what to do next.
She remembered how he would kiss her lips, so hesitantly, she parted her mouth, moving her lips to capture his in a soft attempt to mirror his actions from past.
He lay there, his hand tightening in her hair, while his other hand reached around her neck, not just resting but holding her firmly again. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to recall more, then cautiously slipped her tongue out, tracing the seam of his lips. Her face flushed, and her body froze, overwhelmed by the intimacy.
He gently pushed her head back to look into her eyes, his gaze now darker, thick with desire from her hesitant movements. She opened her eyes, hoping she had done enough.
"Badan ko dheela chodo, kuch mat socho, jo karna hai karo, thik hai?" he murmured, his tone commanding yet reassuring.
(Relax your body, don't think too much, just do whatever you feel like, alright?)
She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes in a hint of defiance, silently protesting, which he ignored as he pulled her closer once more.
Their lips met again, and she froze for a second. His hand slipped inside her kameez, sending a rush through her. Instinctively, she leaned in more, almost as if trying to avoid his touch-yet drawing herself even closer to him in the process.
With her heart pounding, she leaned in, her mouth softly sucking on his lips, giving him an open-mouthed kiss. Hesitantly, she ran her tongue over his lips, hoping he would respond, but he didn't. Recalling how he had once bitten her lips, she opened her eyes to gauge his reaction, then gently sucked and bit down on his lower lip.

His grip on her waist tightened immediately, his eyes flew open, and he pulled her even closer. He parted his lips, and they finally began eating each other's lips, their mouths exploring with newfound urgency,she moaned. The awkwardness melted away as she instinctively followed his lead, both of them lost in each other.
His hands slipped under her kameez once more, reaching up her back. Then he did something that made her heart skip-his hand tightened around her bra, drawing her closer against his chest. Shifting her onto the bed, he deepened the kiss, pressing their bodies together. Just as he leaned in to take control,they heard a knock on the door.
He tried to ignore it, but Halima patted his shoulder lightly, reminding him of their surroundings.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled away, standing up in frustration. Wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve, he opened the door. Meanwhile, Halima quickly ran into the bathroom, her cheeks flushed.
"Kya qayamat aagai?" he asked, looking at Halima, the servant, who paused for a moment, glancing at his flushed face, his red lips, and his disheveled hair before quickly looking away, blinking hard.
(What disaster has struck?)
"Wo Malkin ne kaha hai ke agar tayyari ho gai ho toh nikalne se pehle mil lena aap," she said softly. He nodded trying to calm himself.
(Madam said that if you're ready, meet her before leaving.)
"Thik hai, jaao keh do, milte hue jaayenge.", he replied, closing the door. He walked toward the cupboard, took out his clothes, then reached for the suitcase from the top of the cabinet.
(Alright, go tell her, we'll meet before we leave)
Noticing Halima's clothes, he picked a few of her outfits along with some of her necessary jewelry, packing them carefully. When she came out, she saw a navy-blue dress and some jewelry laid out on the bed. Glancing around, she noticed he was gone, but the suitcase was left open nearby.
Curious, she opened the suitcase and found all her essentials already packed. A smile spread across her face. Gathering the clothes he had set out for her, she walked into the bathroom to change.
Afterward, she applied a bit of makeup, combed her hair, and put on the jewelry he'd chosen. Looking in the mirror, her gaze fell on her lips, still slightly swollen and red. She picked up her red lipstick and applied it, hiding the evidence of their earlier moment.
Finally, she grabbed her makeup box, placed it inside the suitcase, and stepped out to meet Rafia and ready to go.
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