
Pranya had just turned 22 when she moved into the old apartment complex in Delhi. The building was a four-storey concrete block in a crowded gali, the kind where everyone knew everyone’s business. Her parents had forced her into this arrangement after she failed her exams again. The landlord, Uncle Sharma, had made a deal with them: free rent, free food, in exchange for Pranya becoming the building’s “free use slut.” She had cried and begged the first night, but Uncle Sharma had simply locked the door and told her, “Yeh teri naya zimmedari hai, beti. (This is your new responsibility, daughter.) Man laga ke kar, warna ghar wapas bhej denge.” (Do it properly or we’ll send you back home.)
From that day, the rules were simple and merciless. Pranya wore only a thin white tank top that barely covered her full breasts and a short plaid skirt with no panties underneath. No locks on her door. No saying no. Anytime, anywhere, any hole. The men of the building took full advantage, and they were never gentle.


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