Struggling with the language of French,the protagonist's mother decides to hire a French tutor for her only daughter.
What happens when, 𝐴𝐴𝑌𝐴𝑇, an ordinary girl is mentally and sexually harassed by her male tutor? Is it her imagination? Or is...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Having a loaded amount of hustle around me and deeply praying inside my heart, I quickened my alacrity. The time was lesser than I had ever known. In bare time, I had to reckon the impossible. Deviate from my dreams and delight. Parade into the Cimmerian shade of gloominess, devised by his shadiness.
"Sweetheart." He bursted out.
My voice was anesthesized. I opened my mouth in my defence but my strained throat didn't allow me to voice any lingual. The soreness beneath it was certainly not blissful.
"You are finished!" On his assertion I uncluttered the lock, ajarred into the room, clamping on his gargantuan beefcake.
"Hmm. Good girl." His tone was out of sorts. As if he modulated something offbeat.
I held my breath as I stood notably close to him to the nth degree, paying homage to the ground shunned to gawk his brown effulgent orbs.
"Let's start." We jaunted towards the bed.
Eventually, he started to undress me. The view became foggy and I started to feel fuzzy. My mind and body were all bleary and dog tired. How he had the get-up-and-go attitude? The volume of stamina he had was toxic and non-enduring.
In a nutshell, I collapsed on the floor. Blacked out. Barefooted. Reciting and sobbing. All of a sudden everything became dark. An unknown rayless view was bestowed on me, enabling me to question my whole existence.
_______________________________
Maaz's POV
Goosing her up in my erect arms and placing her on the corner of the bed, I sedated myself to be cool as a cucumber and not stroke her inappropriately. Challenging. I know. But I had to. An inner part of my heart was screaming to do the forth but my conscience devised some other conspiracy. It didn't allow me to recoup the unholy and atrocious cosmos.
Peering her two round black ringlets which were now covered with her swollen eyelids, beautifying her auréoles. Soothing and eye-bewitching. Words weren't enough to describe the chunk of million sensations she evoked within me. Without enunciating or motioning.
My mind ravaged to the anamnesis of the moments spent with her while she lay on the bed. Distraught. Benumbed. Frantic. Depleted. Her slender embodiment lacked of any skin. It just exposed her fragile bones.
I realised the reason behind her callowness. She was in dire need of appetite and nourishment. Intellectually, I became aware I shouldn't have been too harsh on her. Maybe if I had touched her with amassed delicacy rather than with longing pruriency. But what can I do? Everytime I pull her closer to me, she backs off. Didn't she wanted me?
