The sun dipped low over Mumbai, washing the skyline in hues of amber and rose. Below, Gokuldham Society pulsed with its predictable rhythm—children's laughter echoed like windchimes, aunties argued mid-saree fold, and the heady scent of garlic tadka curled through the alleys like foreplay in vapor.
But above it all, in the most luxurious penthouse the society had ever seen, tastefully excessive, and utterly untouchable—stood him.
The terrace was sensual indulgence made architecture. Marble warm underfoot. White silk drapes danced in the monsoon breeze. Jasmine vines curled up ivory columns. An infinity-edge pool glittered like a second sky.
And he stood there—barefoot, wrapped in an open linen robe, chest sculpted like memory, silver hair tousled, eyes green and hungry.
He took a slow sip of masala chai from bone china.
His gaze dropped.
There—Babita Ji.
Striding through the garden, her tight T-shirt clung like a whisper, jeans painted over her hips like they'd been melted on. She arched her back mid-laugh, flicking her hair with a precision that made time stutter. Her eyes sparkled with a knowing glint, lips slightly parted in a seductive pout. Her nipples were visible through the thin fabric, hard and inviting. The hem of her shirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her toned stomach.
She didn't look up. But something in her shift, her shoulders, her smile—felt like she _knew_ she was being watched.
A few steps behind, Anjali Mehta stretched across her balcony, her yoga leggings taut over thighs that glistened with post-practice sweat. She bent forward, slow, intentional. Her waist curved like invitation. Her eyes closed in peace, not knowing the god of seduction now watched from above. Her skin glowed with a sheen of sweat, accentuating every curve and muscle. Her leggings were so tight that the outline of her sex was clearly visible, her ass round and firm, begging to be touched.
He tilted his head, lips curling.
"I've been reborn in another life," he murmured, voice smooth as aged honey.
"Let's keep it wholesome."
He smirked, the lie already tasting delicious on his tongue.
Chim
A sound like a flirtatious chime—a temple bell touched by lust.
And then it appeared: a glowing glyph in the air. Not a screen. Not a dream. A divine command—etched in gold and vermilion, ancient and intimate.
---
INDIAN TV HAREM SYSTEM ACTIVATED
User: Veyas Adhipati
Class: Sovereign of Seduction
Target: Babita Iyer
Reward: Pleasure Touch · Influence Boost · Access to Gokuldham Tier
Penalty: Death
---
He didn't flinch. His pupils merely dilated—just slightly—as something ancient stirred inside him.
Desire…
Recognition…
Power.
He smiled.
Slowly. Deeply. Wickedly.
"Or not," he whispered.
And then he turned, his robe falling slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth arc of his collarbone—like a blade sheathed in satin.
His bare feet padded across the marble.
And somewhere below, a woman's heart skipped a beat—though she wouldn't know why.
Yet.
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