The private jet sliced through the night sky, its cabin wrapped in golden dimmed lights and the low hum of absolute luxury. Geeta sat reclined in a plush cream leather seat, legs crossed, a silk robe draped over her freshly inked body. Every part of her felt alive—buzzing, burning, blooming. Beside her, Jasmine lounged with casual grace, sipping champagne like a queen returning to court.
They hadn't spoken much since the salon, the boutique, the tattoo parlor. There was no need. Their eyes did the talking. Their smiles, the promises.
And now—now, they were flying to Dubai. To him.
"Are you nervous?" Jasmine asked with a small, sly smile.
Geeta shook her head slowly. "No. Just… ready."
Jasmine's gaze swept down her body. "Good. You're going to need that courage."
The jet touched down at the private airstrip outside the city. A black Maybach awaited them at the steps, engine humming, tinted windows shielding the world from the goddesses inside. Geeta stepped into the vehicle like a prize being delivered.
The ride to the Burj Khalifa was swift, almost surreal. Jasmine said little, only brushing her fingers along Geeta's thigh, occasionally smirking as the older woman trembled with every bump in the road.
The car pulled into the private basement garage of the tower. A personal elevator opened before them—Jasmine swiped a biometric card, and they ascended.
Geeta didn't even look at the view. Her mind was consumed with one thing.
The scent of jasmine and champagne lingered in the air as the private elevator ascended the Burj Khalifa. Every second stretched like silk across Geeta's skin. She stood between Jasmine and the mirrored wall, her breath steady but charged. The silk robe around her hugged her newly inked body, still sensitive from the tattoo session. Every step was a reminder of her rebirth.
"You'll only get one first time with him," Jasmine whispered in her ear. "Make it count."
Geeta's only reply was a slow nod, her eyes glowing with anticipation.
Arrival in the Sky Palace
When the elevator doors opened, Geeta stepped into the realm of a king.
Black marble veins kissed gold beneath her feet. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in moonlight. A low fire crackled in a suspended hearth. And at the far end, facing the city, stood Ryan.
The silk robe around his waist hung open, revealing a torso sculpted like a predator god. He didn't turn to greet them—he simply said:
"Leave us, Jasmine."
Jasmine smiled and gave Geeta's shoulder a parting squeeze. Then she vanished behind a dark panel, pulling out her phone as she passed a mounted sculpture. From a hidden groove inside the sculpture, she activated a micro-lens that locked onto Geeta's face as she moved.
Recording: Active.
A Contract of Flesh
Geeta approached slowly, the heat between her thighs mounting with every step. When she reached him, Ryan finally turned. His gaze was absolute.
"Take it off," he said.
She didn't hesitate. The robe slipped from her shoulders and pooled silently at her ankles. Her tattoos shimmered under the ambient light—the rose vine, the butterfly tramp stamp, the barcode on her neck. His name, etched over her breast.
Ryan stepped closer and cupped her chin.
"I didn't ask for devotion," he said.
"I know," she whispered, "but I need to give it."
He pulled her into a kiss that wasn't gentle—it was ownership. One hand tangled in her hair while the other slid down her back, tracing every curve she now bore in his honor.
Without a word, he lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the vast velvet bed—charcoal black sheets, silk pillows, gold-tasseled corners. He tossed her onto it like a conquered queen and unbelted his robe.
The Ritual Begins
Ryan knelt at the edge of the bed. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't speak. His tongue found her heat with a slow, deliberate hunger. Geeta arched her back, gasping, hands twisting the sheets.
"God—Ryan…" she moaned.
Her body trembled as his tongue painted circles into her core. Her tattoos shimmered like sacred scripture coming alive under his worship.
From behind the curtain wall, Jasmine watched through the lens, zoomed, focused, and crystal clear. The phone in her hand trembled slightly from the arousal. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to touch herself.
The First Claim
He flipped her with a sudden, fluid strength, dragging her hips to the edge of the bed. The smooth sheets whispered against her skin as he spread her thighs, admiring the fresh red roses inked along her hip and lower abdomen. His fingers traced the vine gently, then gripped her ass hard enough to make her gasp.
His tip nudged her wet entrance, slow and teasing, brushing the outer lips before pulling back again.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice like gravel wrapped in silk.
"I'm yours," Geeta whispered.
Ryan smirked, his eyes glowing with dark amusement. "Louder."
"I'm yours," she said again, voice shaking.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back, and slammed into her with a single, brutal thrust.
"Mine," he growled, pounding deep.
The force of his body made the bed frame groan beneath them. Geeta screamed—a cry of overwhelming fullness, pain, and addictive pleasure. Her breasts bounced forward with every slap of skin. Her fingers clenched the sheets until her knuckles turned white.
"Ahhh—Ryan!" she gasped. "Oh god, oh fuck—yes—more!"
He grabbed her by the waist, angling his hips to strike that raw, pulsing spot inside her again and again. The tattoos along her back and ass shimmered with sweat, like living art reacting to his rhythm.
Behind them, in perfect silence, the camera blinked red.
Domination
Ryan flipped her over with the ease of a beast toying with his prey. Her thighs were still trembling when he pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs wide and entering again with one smooth thrust. His girth made her cry out, her head tossing side to side. Her breasts bounced with every impact, her eyes rolled back, and the name "Ryan" tattooed on her chest glistened with sweat.
"You feel every inch of me, don't you?" he whispered against her cheek.
"Y-yes… I—oh god—yes!"
Her voice cracked into moans as he thrust deeper, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other twisted her nipple. He licked down her neck, biting the edge of her collarbone.
She came again, screaming his name into the velvet.
Ryan leaned over her, lips brushing her ear. "You think this makes you mine?"
"Yes—God, yes—please—"
Geeta's entire body was a livewire — her skin flushed, her pussy soaked, her tattoos stretched tight across her hips as Ryan used her like a reward he owned. Every thrust was a lesson in who she now belonged to.
He pulled out slowly, twisted her into a straddle, and let her ride him. Her hips moved like waves—desperate, surrendered, hungry. Her hands traced his chest, her moans echoing through the penthouse.
Jasmine's camera caught every detail—every kiss, every gasp, every sobbed declaration of surrender.
Pleasure and Pain
"Open your mouth," he ordered.
She obeyed. He pushed two fingers in—wet with her juices—and she sucked them in hungrily, never breaking eye contact. Ryan's smirk deepened.
"Such a dirty little wife," he said.
Geeta moaned around his fingers, her core clenching around his cock. Her body was no longer hers—it was a tool for his pleasure. And she loved it.
When he pulled out again, her pussy dripped down her thighs, desperate and stretched. He flipped her onto her side and entered her again—this time slow, grinding deep inside her with a possessive growl.
Jasmine, in her hidden nook, zoomed in slightly on the camera lens. She was dripping wet herself, but stayed focused. Her orders were clear: capture it all.
Claiming Her Whole
Ryan gripped Geeta's hair and pulled her up against his chest. He whispered filth into her ear as he fucked her from behind, her legs hooked over his. Her body trembled with overstimulation—three orgasms and still climbing.
"You love this. Being used. Being fucked. Being watched."
Her eyes widened. "Watched?"
"By the stars," he lied smoothly, biting her earlobe.
Her next orgasm hit like lightning—her moans turned to sobs, tears slipping from her lashes as her body writhed and twitched under his control.
The Climax
When Ryan sensed she was near collapse, he pinned her flat, mounted her fully, and pounded into her with vicious speed. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the marble chamber.
Her legs wrapped around him. Her hands clawed at his back. Her eyes rolled back in surrender.
"Fill me," she cried. "I want it—I want all of you—mark me inside!"
He growled.
And then, he came.
A thick, violent climax, deep inside her throbbing cunt.
Geeta gasped, arching beneath him as the heat spread through her.
It was over.
Or so she thought.
Aftermath
Ryan pulled out slowly, his release dripping from between her thighs. Geeta collapsed back onto the bed, sweat-slicked, glowing, and limp with satisfaction. Geeta lay tangled in the sheets, panting. Her body glowed—smeared with sweat, cum, and purpose. She looked at Ryan with absolute worship.
"I… I've never felt like this," she whispered.
Ryan brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're beautiful when you forget who you were."
"Did I… do good?" she asked, eyes fluttering.
"You did beautifully," he whispered, stroking her hair.
She smiled, closing her eyes, finally at peace, glowing, fully unaware of the blinking red light still catching every detail from above.
Behind the curtain, Jasmine tapped a screen.
| Footage saved.Encrypted and backed up.
She licked her lips, already fantasizing about watching it again later.
System Decision
As Ryan stood, wrapping a silk robe around his waist, a glowing interface flickered before his vision.
EVE: Add Geeta Sethi to Harem? [Accept] / [Reject]
He paused.
Her moans still echoed in his ears. Her scent clung to him.
His finger hovered…
And pressed [Reject].
Not Yet.
The Archive
As Geeta drifted into post-orgasmic sleep, Ryan rose, pulled on a robe, and walked to the far panel. Jasmine appeared without a word, holding her phone.
He took it.
One tap: Saved to Secure Vault.
Another tap: Copied to System Space Archive.
He looked down at the sleeping woman—inked, stretched, marked.
"She's not in the list," Jasmine said softly.
"I know," he replied.
"But you came inside her."
"That doesn't bind her. Not until I choose it."
Jasmine tilted her head. "You don't trust her?"
"I trust power. I trust leverage." His voice was ice. "I have some other plans."
He handed the phone back and walked toward the shower, pulling Jasmine with him, leaving a trail of cool satisfaction in his wake.
Geeta's Dream
Wrapped in silk sheets, Geeta dreamed of ownership. Of Ryan whispering vows. Of being brought into a secret circle of women just like Jasmine—collared, tattooed, worshipped.
She would rise. She would serve. She would belong.
She had no idea she was still on trial.