The city was so loud today, a stark contrast to the quiet gated walls of this home. I sat in the car, waiting for the driver to finish an errand, watching people pass. A young couple, laughing, his hand possessively on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd. The way he touched her… it wasn't gentle. It was a claim. My mind unraveled right there in the backseat. I imagined being her, but not with him. With a man who sees the hunger in my eyes and answers it with force. I pictured being dragged into a secluded alley, pushed up against the cold brick wall. My shalwar torn aside, not removed. His hand would cover my mouth, not to silence my prayers, but to stifle my moans as he shoved his thick, unforgiving cock into my tight ass. The shock, the burn, the sheer violation of it—it’s all I can think about. To be taken in such a filthy, public place, used like a common whore for a stranger’s brutal release, my own pleasure coming in sharp, shameful waves from the sheer degradation of it all. To walk back to the car with his cum leaking down my thigh, a secret stain beneath my modest clothes, a reminder that the pious woman the world sees is just a costume for the depraved slut screaming to get out.