I am Priya, and this is my story – my filthy, twisted, glorious journey from a nervous nobody to the queen of Varghese and Sons.
Let me take you back to July 2015, when I stepped into the sleek office on MG Road, Kochi, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.
I was 25, fresh out of a small-time job, wearing a tight white t-shirt that hugged my D-cup breasts and blue jeans that clung to my thick thighs and round ass like a second skin. My ponytail swung as I walked, and I could feel the receptionist, Shalini, eyeing me with a mix of envy and disdain.
I was there for an interview, desperate to land a job at Varghese and Sons, the biggest real estate firm in Kerala. My husband, Anil, thought I was crazy to aim so high with just a commerce degree and a year of clerical work.
“You are not cut out for this, Priya,” he’d sneered that morning, his skinny frame slouched over his chai. “Stick to something simple.”
But I wasn’t simple. I was hungry. And when I saw Mr. Varghese, the 40-year-old boss with his salt-and-pepper hair, sharp jaw, and eyes that stripped me bare, I knew I’d do anything to get this job.
Fast forward to 2025, and here I am, CEO of this empire, lounging in my glass-walled office in Kakkanad, my black silk saree slipping off one shoulder, revealing the curve of my breast as I sip espresso and sign deals worth crores.
Anil still whines, his voice sharp as he asks, “Why only you get promotions, Priya?”
I smirk, my red lips curling.
“Smart work, da,” I say, but what I don’t tell him is the truth: my promotions came from the cocks I sucked, the investors I fucked, and the colleagues I rode to the top. My fat boobs, my big ass, my wet pussy, and my eager mouth – they were my tools, my weapons, my ladder to this throne.
Back in 2015, the interview room was a battlefield. Mr. Varghese sat behind a mahogany desk, his dark suit crisp, his eyes locked on my chest as I sat down.
“Priya, tell me why you want this job,” he said, his voice low, like he was already imagining me naked.
I leaned forward, letting my T-shirt stretch tighter, my cleavage a deliberate distraction.
“I’m passionate about real estate, sir,” I lied, my voice sweet but calculated. “I’ll work hard, day or night, to make this company grow.”
He smiled, a predator’s grin, and I felt a thrill between my legs.
Thomas, the senior manager, a balding man with a paunch, was there too, his gaze slimy as it roamed my body.
They asked about my skills, but I could tell they were testing something else.
“We need dedication,” Varghese said, leaning back, his hand brushing his crotch under the desk. “Can you handle… pressure?”
I nodded, my pussy already damp. I didn’t know then how far I’d go, but I felt it – the spark of ambition, the willingness to cross lines.
In 2025, I think back to that moment as I sit in my CEO chair, my saree hiked up, my fingers teasing my clit under the desk while I video-call a Dubai investor.
“Priya, you’re a legend,” he groans, jerking off on the other end. “That Kochi project is a goldmine.”
I smile, remembering how I sealed that deal last month, bent over his yacht’s railing, his cock pounding my ass while the Arabian Sea glittered below.
In 2015, the interview took a turn when Varghese asked me to stay back after Thomas left.
“Priya, this job demands… flexibility,” he said, standing too close, his cologne filling my lungs.
I could see the bulge in his trousers, thick and promising. My heart raced, not with fear but with opportunity.
“I’m flexible, sir,” I whispered, my hand brushing his thigh.
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me against him, his lips crashing into mine. His tongue was rough, demanding, and I moaned, my body betraying my innocence.
He pushed me onto the desk, my jeans yanked down, my panties ripped off. His fingers found my wet pussy, and he growled, “Good girl.”
He fucked me right there, his cock thick and relentless, stretching me as I gasped and clawed the desk.
“You’re hired,” he panted as he came inside me, his cum dripping down my thighs. I felt dirty, used, but powerful.
In 2025, I laugh at that memory as I ride Varghese in my office, his 50-year-old body still fit, his cock still hard for me.
“You’ve come a long way, Priya,” he groans, his hands squeezing my tits through my saree.
I’m loyal to him, to this company, because he saw my potential that day – my potential to fuck my way to the top.
The past wasn’t all smooth. In 2015, Shalini, that bitch receptionist, spread rumors about me after catching me leaving Varghese’s office, my hair messy, my lips swollen.
“Slut,” she hissed in the break room, loud enough for others to hear.
I wanted to slap her, but I smiled instead, knowing I’d outlast her. I did.
By 2016, she was fired, and I was climbing. But that day, her words stung, made me question if I was just a whore.
I went home to Anil, who noticed my disheveled state and snapped, “What’s wrong with you?”
I lied, said it was a tough interview, but he didn’t care enough to push.
In 2025, Shalini’s a nobody, while I am signing her old office space for a new mall project. I think of her as I fuck Thomas – yes, the same sleazy manager – on a conference table, his cock smaller than Varghese’s but useful for keeping him loyal.
“Priya, you’re a goddess,” he gasps, his hands on my ass. I don’t love it, but I love the control, the way my body bends men to my will.
Back in 2015, the interview wasn’t just about Varghese. Thomas had lingered outside, and when Varghese called him back in, I was still on the desk, my pussy exposed, cum leaking out.
“Join us,” Varghese said, and Thomas didn’t hesitate.
He unzipped, his cock already hard, and I sucked him off while Varghese watched, stroking himself. It was my first taste of this life – two men, one goal: my body.
I gagged on Thomas’s cock, my throat burning, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to prove I could handle anything. They both came on my face, and I smiled, licking my lips.
“Welcome to the team,” Thomas said, and I knew I’d made it.
In 2025, I’m the one calling the shots, but I still remember that desk, that moment when I realized my pussy was my power. I use it now, strategically, like when I fucked a client in Dubai to secure a waterfront plot. His cock was massive, splitting me open, but I moaned his name, made him feel like a king, and got the deal.
The past taught me resilience.
In 2015, Anil almost caught me. I came home late, my jeans stained, my body sore.
“Where were you?” he demanded, his eyes narrow.
I said I was networking, but he grabbed my arm, smelling the sex on me.
“You’re cheating,” he accused, but I laughed it off, gaslighting him.
“You’re paranoid, da.”
He backed off, but I knew I had to be careful. I didn’t love Anil, but I needed him as a cover, a facade of normalcy.
In 2025, he’s still clueless, whining about my promotions while I fuck half of Kerala’s elite.
Last week, I sucked off a minister in a hotel penthouse, his old cock surprisingly eager, his hands trembling as he groped my tits.
“Priya, you’re a national treasure,” he slurred, and I smiled, knowing his signature on my project was worth every drop of his cum.
That 2015 interview was my baptism. Varghese didn’t just fuck me; he molded me.
After the desk, he took me to his private lounge, where he fucked me again, this time slower, teaching me how to move, how to please.
“You’re special, Priya,” he said, his cock deep in my ass, my first time anal. It hurt, but I begged for more, wanting his approval.
He gave me the job, a small role in sales, but promised more if I “kept up.” I did.
In 2025, I’m his right hand, his slut, his CEO. I still fuck him weekly, loyal to the man who saw my worth.
Last night, he bent me over his desk, my saree on the floor, his cock pounding my pussy while he whispered, “You’re my empire, Priya.”
I came hard, knowing I’d built this with every thrust, every moan.
This is my story, and it’s only the beginning.
In 2015, I was a girl with a tight t-shirt and a dream. In 2025, I am a queen, my saree a symbol of power, my body a weapon. Anil can whine, but he’ll never know how I climbed – how my mouth, my pussy, my ass, and my ambition made me the CEO of Varghese and Sons. And I am just getting started.