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Indian Femdom Story: Tarun’s Journey from Husband to Ragini’s Slave - Part 3

 

Chapter 6: The Trials of Submission

In their Bangalore apartment, Ragini’s dominance over Tarun reached new heights as she sought to mold him into the perfect slave. With Tarun juggling his demanding IT job, she devised a series of impossible tasks to test his obedience, knowing his time was stretched thin. Armed with newly purchased BDSM toys—whips, leather handcuffs, a strap, a dildo, and a butt plug—she turned his mistakes into opportunities for punishment, her cruelty weaving shame into his professional life.

Ragini began by ordering Tarun to clean the apartment spotless and prepare an elaborate meal before his evening return from work, tasks doomed by his long hours. Rushing home, he missed dusty corners and burned the rice. Her eyes flashed with anger as she grabbed the whip, lashing his back five times, the sting a sharp lesson. “You’ll wear this butt plug to the office tomorrow,” she commanded, inserting it with a smirk. At work, the constant pressure humiliated him, his colleagues oblivious as he shifted uncomfortably during meetings, his focus fractured.

Next, she demanded he iron all her clothes perfectly and organize their closet alphabetically by morning, knowing his exhaustion would lead to failure. He scorched a blouse and left the closet half-done, prompting her to handcuff his wrists. She slapped his face with the leather strap until red marks bloomed, the pain searing. “Take the dildo in your pocket,” she ordered, handing him the toy in a bag. At the office, the bulge tormented him, his shame peaking as he avoided his boss’s scrutiny, the secret burden weighing on his mind.

When she instructed him to massage her feet for hours after work and polish her shoes before dawn, Tarun’s fatigue betrayed him—he stopped early and overslept. Ragini’s fury erupted. She whipped his thighs and chest fifteen times, the lashes cutting deep, then kicked his balls five times, each blow a jolt of agony. “Wear the butt plug and carry the dildo,” she decreed, inserting the plug and forcing the dildo into his bag. At work, the dual torment broke his composure—his awkward gait drew a coworker’s curious glance, and he spent the day mortified, his professional facade crumbling.

Her demands grew harsher. She tasked him with memorizing her shopping list of fifty items overnight, a feat impossible with his job. He forgot half, and she responded by strapping his face repeatedly, the leather leaving welts, and whipping his back twenty times. “Keep the butt plug in all day,” she said, adding the dildo to his pocket. The office became a prison of shame—his strained expression during a client call raised eyebrows, and he hid in the restroom, overwhelmed by the humiliation.

Finally, she ordered him to wake at 4 AM to cook a three-course meal, knowing his schedule made it unfeasible. He managed only a burnt dish, and Ragini’s punishment was relentless. She handcuffed him, whipped his chest and thighs thirty times, kicked his balls ten times until he collapsed, and strapped his face until tears fell. “Take both the butt plug and dildo to work,” she insisted, securing them on him. At the office, the unbearable pressure and visible discomfort turned his day into a nightmare—colleagues whispered, his boss questioned his performance, and he endured the shame in silence.

Chapter 7: The Slave’s Public Humiliation

By week’s end, Tarun’s body bore the scars of Ragini’s wrath, his mind steeped in degradation. The BDSM toys—whip, handcuffs, strap, dildo, and butt plug—had become extensions of her control, each punishment a reminder of his failures. At work, the butt plug and dildo transformed his professional life into a daily ordeal, his shame a silent companion as he navigated meetings and deadlines. “You’re my slave everywhere,” Ragini declared one night, her voice a cold promise. Tarun, caged and broken, nodded, his femdom fantasy now a relentless test of endurance and public disgrace.

To Be Continued…

Next part coming soon!

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