Chapter 2 the Game of House-House with Servent boy

Second story of first chapter, this is final chapter

I layed there panting, sweaty and naked, Babu's warm thick white cum was dripping from my brown pussy, my pussy was pulsing and reddish after the hard fucking he had given me. He wiped his dick with the end of the bed sheet and adjusted his lungi. He looked at me with a smug smile, his eyes dark with lust and power, "You liked it didn't you, bhabhi?" He said, I didn’t answer, I just laid there feeling used and disgusting. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on my face, "You liked it when I fucked you hard and filled you up, didn’t you?"

I couldn’t deny it, my body had betrayed me and I had felt pleasure from his brutal touch. But I didn’t dare say anything, fear had me paralyzed. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Tonight, we're going to try something new," and with that, he left the room.

The evening came, and I was nervous. I put on my school uniform, feeling the fabric hug my chubby curves, my breasts spilling out of the tight white shirt, my stomach folding over the waist of my skirt. I went downstairs to the kitchen to find Babu, his lean body moving gracefully as he prepared dinner.

"Babu, I don't feel well," I said, trying to get out of whatever new game he had planned for us.

"You'll be fine, bhabhi," he said, not even looking up from his work. "You just need to relax."

I went back to my room and waited, my heart racing. When the house was quiet, and I heard my parents snoring in the other room, I knew it was time. He came into my room, his eyes scanning my body hungrily.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, and I obeyed, my hands shaking as I undressed.

He pulled out a bottle of coconut oil from his pocket and began to warm it up in his hands. "Tonight, we're going to play a different game," he said, his voice low and sinister.

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What game?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Anal," he said, his eyes gleaming. "You've been a good little slut for me, and now it's time to try something new."

I felt my stomach churn at the thought, but I didn’t dare protest. He was too strong, too powerful. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and I was too scared to stop him.

He had me lie face down on the bed, the coolness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat of my body. He spread my legs, his hand caressing my thick thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh. He squirted some coconut oil onto his fingers and began to rub it into my asshole. It felt strange, the coldness of the oil against the heat of my skin.

He worked his way in, one finger at a time, stretching me out. I gasped as he pushed the third one in, my asshole feeling tight and uncomfortable. "Relax, bhabhi," he said, his voice soothing. "It will feel good, I promise."

He removed his fingers and coated his cock in the oil. It glistened in the lamplight, thick and intimidating. He positioned himself behind me, his cock pressing against my asshole. I held my breath as he pushed in, the pain making my eyes water.

He was much thicker than his fingers, and the stretch was unbearable. He pushed in deeper, the oil doing little to ease the pain. I whimpered, my body shaking with the effort of not crying out.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You're so tight, so good." His words sent a shiver down my spine. He began to move, his hips thrusting back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of my asshole.

My body was on fire, the pain mixing with the pleasure that was building deep inside me. He reached around and began to play with my clit, his other hand squeezing my breast. The combination of his touch and the fullness in my ass was driving me wild.

I started to moan, my body moving with his rhythm, my fat cheeks jiggling with every thrust. He slapped my ass, the sound echoing through the room, leaving a red handprint on my skin. "You're a natural," he said, his voice strained with effort.

The pleasure grew, my pussy wet and swollen, my asshole stretching around his cock. He was merciless, pounding into me, his hips slapping against my ass. The pain was intense, but so was the feeling of his cock filling me up.

He reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back as he thrust deeper. "You like it, don’t you, bhabhi?" He said, his voice filled with malice. "You like it when I fuck your tight little asshole."

I couldn’t answer, I could only moan and whimper as he fucked me harder. His cock was so deep inside me, I could feel it hit my cervix, the sensation overwhelming.

My orgasm built, my pussy clenching around his cock, my asshole tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his grip on my hair tightening. "I'm going to fill you up," he grunted.

And with one final, brutal thrust, he came inside me, his cum mixing with the coconut oil, spilling out of my ass and down my thighs. He collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving.

I lay there, my ass gaping, my body slick with sweat and oil. I felt empty and used, but also strangely satisfied. This was our secret, our twisted game of house house.

The days turned into weeks, and our games grew more intense. He would come to me every night, pushing me to my limits, making me beg for more. And every time, I would give in, my body craving the pain and pleasure he brought me.

One evening, we were in the middle of our usual routine when we heard the door downstairs slam shut. My mom was home early from her errands. Panic shot through me, and I pushed Babu off me. "Hurry, get dressed," I whispered urgently.

But it was too late. The door to my room swung open, and there she was, standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and horror. She took in the scene—me, naked and sweaty, my asshole glistening with oil and cum, Babu scrambling to cover himself.

"What is this?" She screamed, her voice shrill. "What have you been doing?"

Babu looked at me, his eyes cold. "It's your word against mine," he said, his voice calm.

Babu rolled off me, his lean body slipping from between my thighs, his cock still hard and shiny with lube. He looked at my mom with a smug grin, and I knew he wasn’t going to take the fall for this. "It's not what it looks like, Aunty," he said, his voice calm and measured.

But it was too late. She had seen everything. She took in the scene, the rumpled bed, the discarded clothes, the bottle of coconut oil on the nightstand. She looked at me, her eyes filled with anger and disgust.

And just like that, our world came crashing down. The look on my mom's face was one of disgust and disappointment, a look that would haunt me for the rest of my life. She called the police, and Babu was taken away, his smug smile never leaving his face.

I was sent to a therapist, who talked to me about consent and boundaries. But the damage was already done. I would never look at dolls, or bed sheets, or coconut oil the same way again.

The summer ended, and with it, my innocence. I was no longer a child playing house—I was a girl who knew the dark side of pleasure and pain, a girl who had been claimed by a monster in the guise of a friend.

And as the seasons changed, and the years went by, I carried the weight of that summer with me, a heavy burden that no one else could ever understand. But every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel him inside me, his cock stretching my asshole, his breath on my neck, and his words echoing through my mind—"You're mine now, bhabhi."

The story of my first anal experience, my first time being used and discarded, was one I would carry with me always, a reminder of the games we play when we're too young to know better, and the price we pay for letting the wrong people into our lives.

As for Babu, I heard he went back to his village, his family never knowing what he had done. But in the quiet moments, when I was alone with my thoughts, I would imagine him telling his friends, his cousins, his fellow villagers, about the fat little bhabhi he had used and ruined.

And as for me, I grew up, my body changing, my mind healing—but the memory of that summer never truly left me. The feel of his cock, the scent of coconut oil, the sound of his grunts as he claimed me, all remained etched into my very soul.

The house was no longer a sanctuary, but a prison of sorts, holding the ghosts of a past I could never truly escape. But I learned to live with it, to build walls around my heart, and to keep the darkness at bay.

For now, the game of house house had ended, but the scars it left would be with me forever.