Chapter 2: Becoming the Sketch
The story so far (Synopsis)
Anita, a married Mumbai literature teacher, is increasingly facing harassment by a student Aditya who is from a powerful family. Her husband, Kunal, surprisingly responds in an erotic way when she confides in him, unlocking a secret layer of shame and desire. The boundaries between power, fantasy, and humiliation are blurred as Anita fights to keep control in both her home and school. After receiving a provocative sketch of herself one day, she feels extremely humiliated and can't help but show it to her husband at home.
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Now story ahead
At night, she gave this sketch to Kunal quietly.
It was a drawing. Rude... yet clear. A woman--her--drawn spread out across a classroom bench. Blouse pulled tight, saree pleats upset. Her lips parted, breasts accentuated. Legs drawn wide open, provocatively. Rude. Disturbing.
At the top, scrawled in Hindi, the title read: "Ma'am ki Open Class" (Ma'am's Open Class).
With her fingers clasped and her legs drawn together, she perched on the edge of the bed. He continued to look at the paper. Her chest grew constricted. Was he upset? Stunned? Worse--interested?
As if learning the contours of her body from the sketch, his thumb absently touched the corner of the page.
"I am... amazed. Disturbed, indeed. But also amazed." Kunal said in slow voice.
Anita kept a careful eye on him. It was hard to miss the intensity in his eyes, the tiny heat that rose to his cheeks, and the way his breath caught just a little. Something more profound than his measured words was revealed by the faint trembling in his fingers and the slightest tightening of his jaw. "You're aroused," she remarked, smiling knowingly as she steadily met his eyes.
He didn't refute it. His gaze lingered over the paper, scanning it once more.
"He's fantasising about you. He draws you the way he imagines you."
"Stop," she said softly.
He did not listen. Instead, he came closer and said softly, "He has drawn as if you are offering your body. Legs apart, ready to fuck.
"Kunal, please- Hold on."
His eyes were fixed on a little detail.
He said," Look... here. At your wrist."
Anita looked carefully. Nearly buried in the lines, there was a mangalsutra, not around the neck....but gently looped around her wrist, like a bracelet.
A mangalsutra is a sacred necklace worn by married Hindu women which symbolizes a woman's marital status, much like a wedding ring in Western cultures.
She gasped.
Kunal leaned close, murmuring against her ear with a low voice: "Amusing! He slipped it from your neck to your wrist, as if you were offering it to him. What i I lower it, and put it down there, where only I have the right?
Her thighs reflexively squeezed together.
He kissed her on the shoulder. "You feel that, right?"
"His view of you is disgusting. But the way I see you now, it's fire."
He sat next to her.
"Anita, look at me."
She certainly did.
And he softly and maliciously, whispered, "Let us use it."
She opened her eyes. "Use what?"
" Use sketch."
She hoped she was mistaken, but she understood what he meant. It was filthy idea. However, something inside of her tightened at the imagination.
"Let me act as Aditya this evening. Let me play the boy who fantasizes about his teacher in that position."
She flinched slightly. "You want to turn me on from his filth?"
Kunal's eyes hardened, not with malice but with want.
"I wish to bring our sexual feeling back. That drawing enraged me. But, I cannot ignore the artistic value of it. I am excited to see how a student of yours imagines you. Let us turn his filthy fantasy into ours in constructive way."
The idea was disgusting. It scared her.
But, secretly it thrilled her also. She wanted to say no, but her body was already betraying her.
She finally said, "And what precisely would we do?"
He said softly, "We will not draw inspiration from the sketch, but we will be the sketch."
Being the sketch meant giving in to the gaze of the student who created that sketch and to make his fantasy a reality. Her thighs betrayed her with a throb.
Anita scowled.
"What do you mean?"
He took the wrinkled paper and smoothed it out.
"Your pose. Your bench seat. Your sari. The way your legs were sketched... I want everything. Exactly "
"Kunal, that drawing is disgusting."
"But it's you, Anita. Whether we like it or not, he caught your emotion very erotically."
She paused. Her breath was coming in rapid bursts. Kunal moved behind her. His voice, tinged with authority, softened.
"Listen. Adjust your saree as in the sketch."
She hesitated before starting to unwrap.
Her husband wasn't undressing her. Rather she was being undressed in front of a boy who wasn't even present in the room.
He carefully led her to the desk, surprisingly precisely arranging her body.
He said, "Sit at the edge. Just like that in the sketch"
He spread her legs and set one thigh bent at the knee while the other lay farther out. "It's uncomfortable," she replied, moving with uneasiness.
Her hair covered her features and her blouse stuct to her skin, making her exposed and venerable.
"I know," he remarked.
"But that's the point. It's not about your comfort. It's about losing control. Your student imagined her teacher spreading like this... and I get to make it real."
He thumbed her nipple as he grasped her breast through the blouse.
"Your blouse was tight, straining in the sketch, just like at present. He wished to look at this...," She winced as he unhooked the fastenings one by one behind.
Her top came undone. Her breast rose and fell quickly.
"Kunal, this is......."
"Shhh....." he said, his lips near her ear.
" I am not Kunal, I am your student, Aditya. The boy who sketched this. The one who has been dreaming about this very time for weeks."
Her jaw tight, she shut her eyes. Her lips shook. "A... Aditya."
"Good girl."
He thrust into her slowly, purposefully, causing her back to arch off the desk.
Though the words came, low and menacing, against her ear:
He said, "You were hiding this every day under that saree," his voice husky with something worse than want.
He touched her vagina with his finger above her saree.
" I knew, Ma'am..." you'd be this wet for me."
With ease, he parted her pussy's soft, swollen lips with his middle finger. He found it open and slippery, and he slid inside her with a cautious, methodical push.
She felt horror at the idea that she had unwittingly let a boy see who she was, that her everyday modesty had been eroticized.
Anita's breath caught. Her head shouted no, but her body betrayed her. Her hips tilted just a little, and her thighs shook against her willpower.
" Anyway, your hubby's name?"
"Kunal", said slowly.
"Do you moan like this when Kunal fucks you? he hissed, "Or only when your student eventually gets between your legs?"
She gasped. The words were ruthlessly honest, dirty, and cruel. She couldn't decide which stung more, the question or the fact that she couldn't honestly answer it.
"Kunal, stop... "
" Call me Aditya now."
Kunal was acting as Aditya now.
He pressed more. She, shaking, attempted to push against his chest. But her thighs instead clasped around his waist.
"Every time you bent over the desk, I pictured this... "
He rocked more forcefully while holding her hips.
"You are wearing a saree. Your dripping pussy is only for me."
She let out a gasp. "That isn't..."
"Then why are you gripping around me like your body is freightened to let go", he said softly. "Like it now belongs to me."
Cheeks red, she turned her face, but her fingers clutched his back, pulling nails over his skin.
He slowed, taunting, "Tell me you don't want your student's cock inside you.
