By mid-afternoon the flat had become a closed world of warm light, incense smoke, and the constant wet evidence of what Rajesh was doing to his daughter.

Ananya had not worn a single piece of clothing since morning. Her skin carried the faint sheen of dried cum on her inner thighs, the marks of his fingers on her hips, and the soft red imprint of his mouth on both breasts. Every time she stood or shifted, fresh trickles of white slipped from her used holes and ran down her legs. Rajesh had made sure of it—three more loads since the morning, two in her pussy and one deep in her ass, each one pushed back inside with his fingers afterward so almost nothing was wasted.