This happened when riots hit Mumbai, and Pune’s streets were dead quiet with buses shut down. I’m Rani, 24, married, fair-skinned, with a killer 34-28-36 figure, long black hair, and big eyes. Dressed in a tight blue saree that hugged my curves, I boarded a bus to Pune. Next to me sat Usha Aunty, around 45, curvy with a 38-32-40 body, her black hair streaked with silver, and a sly smile. Her saree kept slipping, showing off her deep navel and heavy boobs, making her damn hot.
The bus crawled due to roadblocks from the riots. Usha Aunty and I got chatting, and soon we were comfy. By 2 PM, the bus broke down, still 40 km from Pune. Besides us, the bus had some creepy goons eyeing me like they’d strip me with their stares. I was scared shitless. Usha Aunty noticed and whispered, “Rani, I’ve called a taxi. Come with me to Pune, but some places shut at night.” I nodded, relieved. Then she dropped a bomb, “I run a brothel in Budhwar Peth with 50-60 girls getting fucked day and night. If you stick with me, no one touches your pussy without your say-so. But my goons might grab your boobs or ass—they’re horny bastards. Stay elsewhere, and you’re fucked, maybe even filmed. I know Pune’s streets. You’re married, you’ll enjoy the brothel’s dirty fun.”
Her words shook me, but my pussy tingled at the thought. This bus was a rape trap, so I said, “Aunty, take me to your brothel.” The taxi came, and she made us wear burqas to hide our faces.
By 4 PM, we reached her brothel in Budhwar Peth. It looked rundown outside but was lit with colorful lights and smelled sexy inside. As we entered, a beefy, mustached goon named Kaloo slapped my ass hard, grinning, “Boss, what a piece! Can I strip this bitch?” My heart raced, but Aunty snapped, “Bastard, don’t touch her! She’s a guest. Rani, let’s go inside.”
Inside, I saw five or six girls—some buck naked, others in petticoats and half-open blouses, faces caked with makeup, flirting with clients. Aunty saw my shock and said, “What, surprised? This is a brothel. Tonight, I’ll show you how these sluts take six dicks at once. Rest now, I’ll teach you the brothel’s naughty games. Don’t worry, your pussy’s safe unless you want it fucked. But you’ll get your boobs squeezed and maybe jerk a cock or two. That’s the fun here.”
Her words had truth. We went to her room, fancy like a five-star hotel with red velvet curtains and a big bed. Aunty stripped to her petticoat, her big boobs hanging like ripe fruits, nipples hard. She rang a bell, and Kaloo came in. “Get water,” she ordered, then smirked at me, “Shy, huh? I’ll get you naked soon. Taste the brothel’s spice.”
I stammered, “No, Aunty, I don’t wanna get naked.” She laughed, “My promise is only no fucking. Everything else is fair game.” Kaloo brought water, and Aunty said, “Look, I’m half-naked, and this chick’s still dressed. Kaloo, strip her.” In a flash, he yanked off my saree and tore my blouse. My bra was off in seconds, leaving me in just my petticoat. It happened so fast I couldn’t resist. Kaloo was about to rip my petticoat, but Aunty signaled him out.
She ran her hand over my boobs, saying, “Rani, your body’s fucking hot. One night here, you’d earn ten grand easy. Wanna get fucked?” My pussy was wet now. She laid me on the bed, her fingers sliding over my stomach, and whispered, “I’ll show you how sluts play with cocks, suck them, jerk them. If you want, I’ll get your pussy and ass fucked tonight. Live it up, you’ll never forget this.”
Her words set my pussy on fire. I wanted to strip for her goons. My pussy was dripping. She saw my state and said, “You’re my brothel’s slut now. Your pussy and ass are your call, but tonight, you’re a whore—showing off, letting guys grab your boobs, sucking cocks, jerking them. Fucking comes last.”
By 5 PM, she draped a thin scarf over my boobs and said, “Let’s doll you up like a slut.” In the makeup room, five or six girls were primping—some topless, others naked, rubbing cream on their pussies. Goons roamed, groping boobs. The sight made my pussy soaked. Aunty said, “Get naked, show your goods.” I hesitated, “I’m shy.” She snapped, “Don’t be a prude, be a whore tonight.” My boobs were already out. Blushing, I dropped my petticoat, standing in panties. I couldn’t remove them. Aunty whistled for Kaloo, who squeezed my boobs hard. I yelped. Another goon, Raju, ripped off my panties. I was stark naked.
Aunty saw my hairy pussy and laughed, “You don’t even fuck your husband right? What’s this jungle?” She had a girl bring cream, smeared it on my pussy, and five minutes later, Moni, a prostitute, wiped it clean. My bald pussy gleamed. My shyness faded.
At 6 PM, Aunty said, “Business time. I’ll check the brothel. You roam with Moni, sway like a slut.” She told Moni, “Put her on duty. By 8, get her some clients.” Moni gave me a tight petticoat and a blouse with one hook, my boobs half out. The petticoat sat low, showing my navel. I looked like a proper whore. Aunty’s cream made my pussy ache for cock. I told Moni, “My pussy’s itching bad.” She laughed, “Aunty will get you fucked. She’s the queen here.”
Moni took me to the dance room, where Aunty sat like a boss, goons around her. Five or six girls danced half-naked, flashing their pussies for cash. Moni explained, “We got three rates: cheap sluts at 100-300 bucks an hour, mid-tier at 500-1000, and Aunty’s premium ones above 1000.”
Aunty ran a tight ship. If a girl slacked, she’d punish her hard. Moni said one girl refused a politician’s cock, and Aunty burned her. Now she does everything. The brothel’s vibe made me desperate to fuck.
By 7 PM, Aunty called me to sit by her. The dance room was packed. She said, “30 girls are fucking already. By 8, all will be sold.” A client asked about a girl, Sona. Aunty said, “5000 bucks, pussy and ass both.” He offered 3000, but she snapped, “Your 8-inch cock tore Reshma’s ass last time. Pay 4000.”
She checked with Raju on cheap girls. “20 on duty, 30 done, 14,000 bucks collected,” he said. Pappu reported 24 mid-tier girls earned 16,000. Aunty noticed Rekha and Seema weren’t selling. She growled, “Tomorrow, these bitches go cheap. Let rickshaw guys fuck them.”
Two guys approached, eyeing me. “New meat, how much?” Aunty opened my blouse, my boobs spilling out. I covered them, mortified. She barked, “No drama, or my goons fuck you here.” I let go. The guys said, “Her tits are perfect. 5000 for two hours.” Aunty demanded 10,000. One guy squeezed my boobs hard; I moaned, my pussy soaked. Aunty sent them off with other girls, saying, “I sold them for 2000 each, thanks to your tits.”
I admitted, “Aunty, that was hot.” She grinned, “You haven’t even touched a cock yet. Full fun’s coming. Your pussy and ass are your call.” Then she said, “Go sit in clients’ laps.” Moni took me to the hall, where cheap girls were getting fucked. A fat chick was under a 50-year-old guy, his limp dick still trying.
Upstairs, mid-tier girls were at it. Through a peephole, I saw a girl sucking a cock like candy. The guy made her bend over and rammed his 6-inch dick in her pussy. She screamed, “Fuck, I’m dead!” He pounded hard. My pussy dripped watching. Moni slipped a finger in my ass; I yelped, “Shit!” She laughed, “Loving the ass-fucking show? Your turn’s tonight.”
I confessed, “Moni, I wanna get fucked bad.” She said, “Aunty will hook you up with a big cock.” At the top floor, premium girls were fucking. One was bouncing on a client’s dick. Raju said, “Rani, your body’s got my cock hard. Let me suck your tits.” I teased, “Fine, have some milk.”
In an empty room, I opened my blouse, boobs out. Raju sucked them hard; my pussy leaked. I begged, “Raju, fuck my pussy, kiss me.” He crushed me in a kiss. Aunty walked in, slapped my ass, “Slut Rani, whoring already?”
I pleaded, “Aunty, fuck me. My pussy’s burning.” She said, “Learn to play with cocks first.” Raju pulled out his 8-inch beast. I grabbed and jerked it. Aunty said, “Suck it.” I took Bhoora’s thick, dark cock in my mouth. It felt gross at first, then fun.
Aunty sent me and Moni to the hall with seven naked girls, just scarves on our boobs and thin panties. “Clients will rub your pussy; you jerk their cocks,” she said. Two girls danced naked, and I rubbed a banana on my pussy, blowing kisses. My price was set at 2200. A politician sat me in his lap, squeezing my boobs, fingering my pussy. I jerked his 6-inch cock. Police raided, nabbing him—he was a bank robber.
A 55-year-old guy came next, saying, “Your tits are like my daughter-in-law’s.” I jerked his 4-inch cock till he came. Then Chhota Khalil and his buddy paid 12,000. Khalil squeezed my boobs, rubbed his 8-inch cock on my pussy, and slammed it in. I screamed, “Fuck, I’m torn!” He pounded with wet slaps. His phone rang, and he bolted.
Aunty called me and Moni to her room. A client, Habshi Cobra, fucked Seema’s ass as punishment, then fucked Aunty. His 11-inch cock scared me. Aunty said, “Rani, Monty Sahab’s next. He’ll pop your brothel cherry.”
She lubed my pussy and ass. Monty, 40, mustached, and dangerous-looking, sat me in his lap, sucking my boobs, fingering my pussy. I moaned loud. He shoved his 9-inch cock in my pussy, fucking me hard with wet slaps. I screamed, “Fuck me harder!” He pounded for 20 minutes; I came twice. He shot in my mouth, and I swallowed.
Aunty said, “Rani, you’re my brothel’s slut now.” Friends, I let myself become a whore for the night’s naughty fun. What did you think of my story?