Chapter 4: Balcony

Kunal's voice shifted back to its normal tone. The warmth disappeared completely. He was talking to his daughter about churros at Disneyland one second, then the next he just said goodbye and ended the call.

The phone landed on the counter with a clatter. His hand was still covering Aloma's mouth. She was still bent over the marble. Still trying to process what had just happened while his daughter talked about meeting princesses.

He pulled out abruptly. The emptiness hit her immediately. His come spilled out and ran down her inner thighs. Some of it dripped onto the kitchen floor in thick white drops that splattered against the marble.

His hand left her mouth. She gasped for air. Her lungs burned. She'd been holding her breath without realizing it during those final moments of the phone call.

Then his fingers tangled in her hair. Grabbed a handful near her scalp and pulled hard. Her head jerked back at a painful angle.

"Get up," he said.

She tried to stand but her legs wouldn't cooperate. The trembling had gotten worse. Everything below her waist was either numb or shaking uncontrollably.

He didn't wait for her to figure it out. Just started walking while still gripping her hair. Dragging her away from the counter like she was a piece of furniture he'd decided to relocate.

"Wait," she managed. Her voice came out as a broken whisper. "I can't—"

He ignored her completely. Just kept moving at the same steady pace he'd used to drag her into the kitchen earlier. Except this time he was heading in a different direction. Toward the far end of the penthouse where the glass doors led to the balcony.

Aloma stumbled along behind him. Her bare feet slapped against the floor. The thong was still tangled around her knees and it made walking nearly impossible. She had to take these tiny shuffling steps to keep from tripping completely.

His grip on her hair never loosened. Every time she fell too far behind he just pulled harder. The pain shot through her scalp and down her spine. She whimpered but he didn't acknowledge the sound.

They passed through the living room. Past the sofa where he'd fucked her during the first round. Past the coffee table with its ring stains. Past the window that overlooked the entire housing society spread out below them.

The penthouse looked different now than it had at the start of the party. Earlier it had been full of people and noise and laughter. Now it was just empty space. Just expensive furniture and marble floors and the lingering smell of sex.

Her makeup was completely destroyed. She could see her reflection in the dark glass of the windows they passed. Black streaks ran down her face from crying. Her lipstick was smeared halfway across her cheek. Her hair was a tangled mess.

She looked exactly like what she'd become. A used slut who'd been thoroughly fucked by her boss while he talked to his family.

The thought made her stomach clench. Made fresh tears start running down her face even though she'd thought she was done crying.

Kunal reached the glass doors that led to the balcony. He released her hair just long enough to slide one door open with his free hand. The sound of it rolling on its track seemed impossibly loud in the quiet penthouse.

Then his hand was back in her hair. Pulling her forward. Through the doorway and out into the night air.

The temperature change hit her immediately. Cool air against her sweaty skin. She'd been inside the climate-controlled penthouse for hours. Outside it was probably fifteen degrees cooler.

Her nipples hardened instantly. Goosebumps spread across her arms and stomach and thighs. She was completely naked except for the thong still tangled around her knees and her choker. Nothing to protect her from the breeze that swept across the balcony.

Kunal dragged her to the railing. The balcony wrapped around this entire side of the penthouse. The railing was glass and metal. Modern and expensive looking. Designed to be transparent so residents could enjoy the unobstructed view.

He bent her forward over it. Pushed down on the back of her neck until her upper body was hanging over the edge. Her small breasts pressed flat against the cold metal bar at the top of the glass panel.

The housing society spread out below them. Multiple buildings arranged in a planned layout. Some were residential towers like this one. Others were smaller apartment complexes. All of them had lights on in various windows.

Aloma's eyes focused slowly. The alcohol and exhaustion were making everything blurry. But gradually the scene below came into clearer view.

People were visible in their apartments. A family eating dinner in one unit. Someone watching television in another. A couple standing on their own balcony three buildings over. Someone smoking.

Lights were on in at least a dozen windows that had a direct sightline to Kunal's penthouse balcony. Maybe more. The society was designed with the buildings facing inward toward a central courtyard. Everyone could see everyone else.

Panic flooded through her. She tried to pull back from the railing but Kunal's hand between her shoulder blades kept her pinned in place.

"Please," she said. Her voice was shaking. "Someone will see."

"That's the point," he said.

His other hand grabbed the thong still tangled around her knees. He yanked it down to her ankles. The elastic stretched but didn't tear. Now she was completely exposed.

She tried to squeeze her legs together. Tried to hide herself somehow. But Kunal kicked her ankle hard. Once. Then again.

"Spread them," he said.

"No." The word came out as a whisper. She couldn't make her voice any louder.

He grabbed her hair again. Pulled her head back at a painful angle. His mouth was right next to her ear when he spoke.

"I said spread your fucking legs."

She did it. Moved her feet apart slowly until her stance was wide. Until she had to grip the railing with both hands to keep from falling forward completely.

Her ass was elevated now. Tilted up and back. Anyone looking up from the society below would be able to see everything. Her exposed cunt. The come still leaking out of her. The red marks on her ass from where he'd spanked her.

Kunal traced his fingers between her legs. Gathering the mess there. His come mixed with her own wetness. He pushed two fingers inside her without warning.

She gasped. The sound carried across the open air. How far did it travel? Could someone on another balcony hear her?

"Tell me you want them to see," Kunal said. His voice was low and threatening. The same tone he'd used when forcing her to confess her fantasies in the kitchen.

Aloma shook her head. She couldn't say that. Couldn't admit something so fucked up.

His hand in her hair yanked harder. Her neck was bent back so far it hurt. She could barely breathe in this position.

"Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you want everyone down there to know what kind of slut you are."

"I can't." Her voice broke on the words.

He slapped her ass hard. The sound echoed. Sharp and clear in the night air. Someone definitely heard that.

"Say it or I'll turn on the balcony lights," he said. "Make sure everyone gets a perfect view."

The threat made her stomach drop. Right now it was dark on the balcony. Only the ambient light from inside the penthouse and the glow from neighboring buildings. If he turned on the lights she'd be completely visible. Spotlit for the entire housing society.

"I want them to see," she whispered.

"Louder."

"I want them to see." Her voice was stronger this time. Carried on the breeze.

"Tell me what you want them to see specifically."

She was crying again. Fresh tears running down her face and dripping off her chin. Landing on the glass railing below her.

"I want them to see you fucking me," she said. "I want them to know what a slut I am."

"Why does that make you wet?"

She didn't want to answer. Didn't want to examine why the fear and exposure were arousing her despite the horror. But his fingers were still inside her and they both knew the truth already.

"Because I'm fucked up," she said. "Because I get off on being degraded and used and exposed."

"Keep going."

"Because I'm a hypocrite who writes posts about feminism while fantasizing about being treated like a piece of meat. Because I'm pathetic and broken and I can't help getting wet when you abuse me."

He pulled his fingers out. She heard him spit. Then his cock was pressing against her entrance. Still hard. Still ready.

"Say it again," he commanded. "Louder this time. Make sure it carries."

"I'm a pathetic feminist slut who gets wet from being degraded!" Her voice was almost a shout. Definitely loud enough to be heard from other balconies.

He pushed inside her in one brutal thrust. All the way to the base. His hips slammed against her ass and the impact rocked her forward against the railing.

The metal bar pressed into her stomach. Into her small breasts. The glass panel below it was cold against her skin. She gripped the top rail harder. Her knuckles went white from the pressure.

Kunal started fucking her immediately. No buildup. No easing into it. Just hard deliberate thrusts that pushed her body against the railing with each one.

The railing was stable but every thrust made her hyperaware of the drop below. Sixteen floors straight down to the courtyard. The glass panel came up to about mid-thigh on her. Everything above that was just the metal rail she was gripping and open air.

Each thrust forced a sound from her throat. Small gasps and moans that she couldn't suppress. How loud were they? Could the person smoking on the balcony three buildings over hear her?

Kunal's hand grabbed her hair again. Pulled her head back and to the side. Forcing her to look down at the housing society below.

"Look at them," he said. "Tell me what you see."

She tried to focus through the tears and the physical sensation. Tried to make sense of the scene below.

"The family," she managed. "They're still eating dinner."

"Where?"

"Building C. Third floor. The dining table is right by the window."

"How many people?"

"Four. Two adults and two kids."

"What else?"

Her eyes moved to another lit window. Someone watching television. The glow from the screen was visible even from here.

"Someone watching TV. Fifth floor of Building B."

"Keep going."

She catalogued what she could see. A couple on a balcony. Someone working at a desk. An elderly woman doing dishes at her kitchen sink. All of them just going about their normal evening activities.

None of them were looking up. At least not that she could tell. But they could. At any moment someone could glance toward the penthouse and see her bent over the railing getting fucked.

The thought made her clench around Kunal's cock. Made fresh wetness leak out around his shaft.

"You're getting wetter," he said. "The fear turns you on."

She didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it when the evidence was literally dripping down her thighs.

He pointed with his free hand. Still fucking her while directing her attention like a tour guide.

"That window there," he said. "Fourth floor. What do you see?"

She squinted. Tried to focus. The window was closer than the others. Same building as the penthouse. Maybe fifty meters away.

"A man," she said. "He's on his phone."

"If he looked up right now what would he see?"

"Me. He'd see me getting fucked."

"Describe it. What specifically would he see?"

Her brain was getting fuzzy. The combination of alcohol and exhaustion and overwhelming sensation was making it hard to think. But Kunal's grip on her hair tightened. Demanded an answer.

"He'd see me bent over the railing," she said. "Naked. With your cock inside me. He'd see my face. The tears. The destroyed makeup. He'd see the come running down my legs."

"Would he know you're a slut?"

"Yes."

"Would he know you're enjoying this?"

"Yes."

"Say it all together. Tell me what that man would see if he looked up."

She took a shaky breath. The words came out broken by gasps as Kunal continued thrusting.

"He'd see a naked slut bent over a railing getting fucked. He'd see that she's crying but also getting off on it. He'd see the come running down her legs and know she's already been used multiple times tonight. He'd see a pathetic feminist who gets wet from being degraded."

Kunal's rhythm changed. Got faster. More erratic. He was getting close again.

His hand left her hair and moved to her throat. Wrapped around it from behind. Squeezed just hard enough to restrict her breathing slightly.

"Look at that couple on the balcony," he said. "Three buildings over. Tell me what they're doing."

Aloma's eyes found the couple. They were standing close together. Talking. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders.

"They're just talking," she said. Her voice was strained from the pressure on her throat.

"If they turned around what would they see?"

"This. They'd see this."

"Do you want them to turn around?"

The question hit her harder than his hand had. Did she want to be seen? The fear was terrifying but also intensely arousing. Her body was responding even as her mind recoiled.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Louder."

"Yes. I want them to see."

Kunal's hand squeezed her throat harder. His other hand moved between her legs. Found her clit and started rubbing it in small circles.

The dual sensation was too much. His cock pounding into her from behind. His hand on her throat. His fingers on her clit. The fear of exposure. The shame. The wrongness of all of it.

She came hard. Her whole body convulsed. The orgasm ripped through her while she was still staring down at the housing society below. Still bent over the railing where anyone could see.

Her scream echoed across the open air. Definitely loud enough to carry to the neighboring buildings. Someone had to have heard that.

Kunal didn't stop. Just kept fucking her through the orgasm while she shook and gasped. Kept rubbing her clit until the sensation became almost painful.

She was still coming when she saw movement in her peripheral vision. Her eyes moved automatically. Found the source.

The couple on the balcony three buildings over had turned around. They were facing in this direction now.

Panic flooded through her. She tried to pull away but Kunal's hand on her throat held her in place. His cock was still moving inside her.

"They're looking," she gasped. "They're looking at us."

"Good," Kunal said. His voice was strained. Close to finishing. "Let them watch."

He thrust into her harder. Faster. Chasing his own orgasm now while the couple watched from across the housing society.

Aloma couldn't look away. Couldn't close her eyes or turn her head. She just stared at the couple while Kunal used her body. While they witnessed her degradation from fifty meters away.

Kunal's rhythm broke completely. His cock pulsed inside her. Hot come flooded her cunt for the third time tonight. He held himself deep while he emptied. His hand squeezed her throat tighter.

She was still staring at the couple when she came again. A smaller orgasm triggered by the shame and exposure. By knowing they could see everything.

Kunal stayed inside her for a long moment after he finished. Kept her bent over the railing with his come leaking out around his cock. The couple was still watching.

Then he pulled out slowly. His hand left her throat. Moved back to her hair. Grabbed a handful and yanked her head back one final time.

His mouth was right next to her ear when he spoke.

"Tomorrow you'll come to the office and pretend this never happened," he said. "You'll give presentations about consent and bodily autonomy. You'll post about toxic masculinity on our company's social media. You'll argue with me about politics in meetings."

He paused. His breath was hot against her neck.

"But we both know the truth now," he continued. "We both know you belong to me."