The following event happened during the month before Geeta's Corruption.
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A Mission from Ryan
The penthouse still smelled of fresh leather and new money. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed the glowing skyline of Mumbai, and at the heart of it all, Jasmine knelt naked before her phone, head bowed, awaiting her next command.
The faint hum of Ryan's voice buzzed through her wireless earpiece.
"You've tasted submission," he said, voice smooth like silk soaked in venom."Now, you'll sharpen it into a weapon."
"Yes, Master," Jasmine whispered, her body already flushing at the sound of him.
"I want you to seduce someone," he continued. "Not for love. Not for pleasure. For dominance."
He named the target:
Rajesh Mehra.Age: Late fifties.Divorced.A real estate mogul.Lived two floors below Jasmine's gifted penthouse.Known for his wealth and lonely evenings.
"But, Master…" she breathed, trembling slightly, "he's old…"
Ryan chuckled darkly.
"All the better. Break him. Make him need you. Humiliate yourself if needed. Your body is my tool now."
Jasmine shivered.
"Yes, Master."
The line went dead.
The mission had begun.
👠 Phase 1: The Visual Seduction
The very next day, Jasmine dressed carefully.
No longer the modest air hostess in cheap clothes — now, she wore a white silk blouse, no bra, nipples brushing against the fabric, and a tight black pencil skirt that clung to her ass.
Her makeup was light but provocative: glossy lips, smoky eyes, hair cascading over one shoulder.
She waited for the right moment.
In the lobby, pretending to check her mail, she bent over — letting Rajesh, who was getting out of the lift, catch a full view of her ass stretching the thin fabric of her skirt.
He coughed awkwardly.
She turned, smiled shyly, pretended to be embarrassed.
"Mr. Mehra, right?" she said sweetly. "I'm Jasmine. New tenant."
His eyes lingered too long on her chest.
"Y-yes... pleasure to meet you."
Her smile widened.
Mission success.
The hook was set.
🍷 Phase 2: Escalation
Over the next few days, Jasmine engineered "accidental" meetings:
In the fitness center, wearing tight yoga pants, moaning softly as she stretched.
At the rooftop garden, pretending to fumble her wine glass, letting him catch her wrist — their bodies brushing just a little too long.
At the mailbox again, dropping a package deliberately so he would stoop and get a clear view down her blouse.
Each encounter left him red-faced, flustered, more obviously hungry.
And Jasmine fed it.
She laughed at his jokes.Touched his arm.Dropped her gaze to his crotch once or twice, just enough for him to notice.
Ryan's voice guided her through it every night, whispering in her ear through private calls:
"Lower your standards. Make him think he has a chance. Make him forget his dignity."
And she obeyed.
🔥 Phase 3: The Strike
It happened a week later.
Jasmine "forgot" her house keys after a night out and buzzed Rajesh's apartment at midnight.
When he opened the door, she was standing there in a tiny red dress, mascara smudged, perfume heavy in the humid air.
"Mr. Mehra…" she whispered, swaying slightly. "Can I crash here for a bit? I'm locked out…"
He hesitated. Only a second.
Then stepped aside.
The Seduction Scene (NSFW)
Inside, Jasmine wasted no time.
She stumbled theatrically, "tripping" onto the couch, the dress riding up to reveal bare thighs and no panties.
Rajesh stared, frozen.
She looked up at him, biting her lower lip, legs spread just a little too wide.
"I'm so clumsy…" she giggled.
He sat beside her awkwardly, his trousers visibly tenting.
Without a word, Jasmine leaned over, resting her head on his lap, pretending to "fall asleep" — her cheek pressing right against his erection.
Rajesh groaned softly.
And Jasmine "woke up" with a devilish smile.
"Poor thing," she whispered, palming his cock through his trousers. "So lonely..."
He whimpered.
And she unzipped him.
Her lips wrapped around his cock, slow and wet, her tongue tracing lazy circles around the tip, her eyes locked on his as she sucked.
Rajesh's head lolled back against the sofa, a broken man.
Within minutes, Jasmine had him panting, groaning, whispering pathetic thank yous between gasps.
When he came—barely able to hold back—she swallowed it all.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, stood, and blew him a kiss.
"Good night, Mr. Mehra."
She walked out, leaving him spent, shivering, desperate for more.
👩❤️👨 The Grandfather's Horror
It didn't take long before Jasmine's grandfather noticed the change.
The outfits.
The late nights.
The shameless flirtations.
One afternoon, he caught her in the lobby — standing too close to Rajesh, giggling as he slipped her a jewelry box.
He pulled her aside, furious.
"Jasmine!" he hissed. "What are you doing? What happened to you?"
She smiled sweetly.
"Just making friends, Grandpa."
He saw the truth in her eyes—the dead, glittering emptiness—and recoiled like he had been slapped.
That night, he waited.
Waited to catch her.To confront her properly.To save her.
But he was already too late.
🛏️ The Final Fall
At midnight, he heard noises.
He crept toward Jasmine's room, heart pounding.
The door was ajar.
And what he saw shattered the last fragile hope he had clung to:
Jasmine, naked except for a collar around her neck.
Rajesh, the old businessman, pounding into her from behind, his fat belly slapping against her perfect ass.
Jasmine moaning, loud and filthy: "Fuck me harder, Mr. Mehra! Stretch my tight little slut hole!"
The old man's heart seized instantly.
He stumbled back, clutching his chest.
Collapsed right there, dying on the cold marble floor.
Neither Jasmine nor Rajesh noticed.
They were too busy fucking.
Too lost in Ryan's command.
🧹 The Aftermath
When Jasmine finally emerged, dripping with cum, naked but smiling, she found her grandfather's corpse sprawled by the doorway.
She paused.
Stared.
And slowly tilted her head.
No tears.
No grief.
Just indifference.
She stepped over his body, sent a quick message to Ryan:
No Funeral. No Tears. No Remorse.
Jasmine didn't weep.
She didn't pray.
She called emergency services, let them take the body away, and went right back to kneeling before the camera that night, showing Ryan her dripping pussy as she smiled.
Ryan was her god now.
Mission accomplished. Minor collateral damage. Awaiting further orders.
🏢 Moving Forward
With her grandfather gone, the apartment was truly hers now.
No one to judge.
No one to stop her.
When Geeta arrived days later, Jasmine welcomed her with open arms — a fellow sinner, a fellow whore trained under the same god.
They didn't mourn the past.
They celebrated it.
With champagne, with kisses, with whispered promises of eternal loyalty.
Together, they belonged completely to Ryan now.
Property.
Instruments.
Sluts without shame.