Recruiting My Pack of Attack Dogs - Part 1: Rea...

Recruiting My Pack of Attack Dogs - Part 1
Me at a juvenile reformation center, a festering sore on the edge of the city, to recruit four specific assets.
My name is Sushma, and my body is a political weapon. My latest deployment was to a juvenile reformation center, a festering sore on the edge of the city, to recruit four specific assets. They were all Muslim boys, all under sixteen, all convicted of murder. Nawed, Rizwan, Yusuf, and Hamza. The party saw them as clay, ready to be molded into brutal, loyal enforcers. I was the sculptor, and my tools were lust, humiliation, and the promise of power.
My disguise was perfect. I was not a seductress, but a poor, desperate maid. My uniform was a thin, worn cotton saree and a faded sleeveless blouse. The blouse was so threadbare it was practically transparent, and under the sweltering heat of the center, it became a second skin, clinging to my heavy C-cup breasts, my dark nipples clearly visible through the sweat-damp fabric. I wore no bra. I let my body hair grow wild??a thick, dark forest in my unshaved underarms, and my legs and arms were covered in the same. My pussy was an untamed, hairy jungle. I wanted to look like a woman of the earth, a creature of base, unrefined appetites.
Every movement was a performance. When I wiped the floors, I would deliberately tuck my pallu into my waist, letting it hang low. The entire top half of my body was exposed, the deep valley of my cleavage glistening with sweat as I bent over. I made sure every man in that place got their message clear: they belonged to me, and nothing was out of bounds.
Soon, they started calling me "Sushma didi." It was a term of respect, but it never stopped the filthy jokes and double-meaning banter. "Didi, your floor is so wet," Rizwan would sneer, "I might slip and fall right on top of you." I'd just laugh, a low, throaty sound. "Be careful, little brother," he'd say. "This floor can swallow you whole."
The night of the seduction, I told them to meet me on the terrace after the midnight shift change. It was the only place in the entire center without CCTV. I went up first, the cool night air a welcome relief on my skin. I didn't wait long. They came one by one, their faces etched with a mixture of nervousness and raw, predatory hunger.
"So, my didi's little brothers," I began, my voice a husky whisper in the dark. "Did you enjoy the shows? Did you like watching me suck off Das babu? Did it make your cocks hard to see me on my knees for those guards?" I didn't wait long for their answer. I grabbed the hem of my saree and pulled it off in one fluid motion. Then, I ripped my own blouse open, the thin fabric giving way easily. My naked, voluptuous body was bathed in the moonlight, the hairy patches between my legs and under my arms a stark, primal sight.
That's when they started taking me apart. One by one, they came, their hands brushing against each other like animals. I never protested. I'd just shoot them a look, a smirk that said I knew, and approve. Das babu was the boldest. He called me "a woman of the earth." I smiled. It was true. I had become a woman of the earth, a creature of base, unrefined appetites.
So many times did I come? I lost count. My orgasms were violent, shattering convulsions that left me screaming and sobbing with pleasure. But after each time, the pain lingered. It was a reminder that this was not my body, but theirs. And if I ever let them go, they'd never be mine again.
I thought I had it under control. But one by one, they came back. They started calling me "Sushma didi." It was a term of respect, but it never stopped the filthy jokes and double-meaning banter. "Didi, your floor is so wet," Rizwan would sneer. "I might slip and fall right on top of you." I'd just laugh, a low, throaty sound. "Be careful, little brother."
Soon, they started calling me "Sushma didi." It was a term of respect, but it never stopped the filthy jokes and double-meaning banter. "Didi, your floor is so wet," Rizwan would sneer. "I might slip and fall right on top of you." I'd just laugh, a low, throaty sound. "Be careful, little brother."
And so, they came one by one. Each time, the pain lingered. But the thrill was worth it. It was the journey, not the destination. The only thing that ever changed is my body. But that's all. And so, we started again.

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