Two days passed, and the Thakur's reign of brutal desire continued. He was a force of nature, a whirlwind of lust, and Rani was his unwilling, yet compliant, vessel. Day and night, the cycle of possession repeated itself, each encounter more intense, more demanding than the last. Her body was a tapestry of bruises, her spirit a fragile echo of its former self, and her every thought was consumed by him, by his presence, by his insatiable need

The mansion was their prison, the Thakur's desires their sentence. Rani had long ago ceased to resist, her will broken, her body a machine designed only to serve. She had become a reflection of him, a mirror to his darkness, and their lives were now intertwined in a dance of raw dominance and desperate surrender.