The marble bathroom was filled with the sounds of Dewan-ji’s wet, slurping tongue. Riya was still in that humiliating squat, her legs shaking uncontrollably. The old man’s tongue was like a sandpaper, licking the grainy sandalwood and the milky water from the folds of her choot.

​"Ahhh... uff... Dewan-ji... please... stop... I can't... ahh!" Riya’s voice was fading into desperate moans. She was a city girl, used to gentle touch, but this raw, animalistic violation was triggering a reaction in her body she couldn't control.