7

The "itch" was no longer a dull hum; under the violence of his touch, it had become a screaming electric fire that blurred Sofi’s vision. Every time his calloused fingers pinched the soft, sensitive skin of her waist and boobies or the heavy curves of her chest, a jolt of unwanted, drug-induced electricity shot through her. It was a physical torture—her mind recoiling in pure, frozen horror while her medicated nerves vibrated with a sickening, heightened sensitivity.

"Stop... please, Sahab... it hurts," she sobbed, her voice breaking against the expensive silk of the pillows. She tried to wedge her small hands between them, pushing at his massive shoulders, but it was like trying to move the stone walls of the haveli itself.