Sneha's birthday was coming.
Sneha, his childhood friend since class 6, the girl he'd teased mercilessly, stripped naked during Truth or Dare, held bare-skinned through countless sleepovers. The same Sneha whose virginity he'd once planned to take on her birthday as some twisted rite of passage.
Her birthday was in ten days.
She'd already sent him three messages that morning:
Sneha: My birthday is next Saturday. U remember na?
Sneha: I want my special gift from u. . š
Sneha: U do not forget that you are arranging the party right."
Arahan stared at the screen during lunch break, and smiled devilishly.
"So, Sneha was ready to become a flower from a bud."
Although he hadn't touched Sneha in months, since he was busy with Priya and Zainab.
But how can he forget his precious toy?
Till now in his life of only till he was in tenth, he fucked and took virginity of many girls.
But only a few were precious to him. And of course without any doubt, Shaista came number 1 in priority, his childhood bride.
Afterall, she is waiting for him in Calcutta. He can forget everything but not her, even now, after waking up, if he was not with any girls. His first video was called Shaista.
They do some love talk, while she also shows her baby bump, it shows, in a few months, she will give birth to his child.
And then the third priority came, Naziya. The cute little teacher. He fucked her ass in the school bus, in misunderstanding that Shaista and his rumour she spreads, but after knowing it, that's it was misunderstanding.
He felt guilty, and then openly spread his heart for her. Of course he also fear her a little, from his experience of fucking girls, she was the first girl, who lost her virginity by riding him. It was uno reverse for the first time to Arahan.
And from spending time with her, he knows she is very intelligent, the teacher duty has bound her intelligence. And also daring, even know, when he spend time with her, he didn't understand, who was fucking whom.
Technically, the papaya fell on the knife or knife fell on the papaya, it was always papaya that got cut.
But in Naziya's case, she is not like papaya, she is like coconut, that even a knife will bend and break.
So, except if she is his priority, he also fears her a little, and also requested her. That whenever in school premises or inside the bus. Please let him maintain his dominance, not the opposite.
Naziya hearing his request feels cute, and agrees to it, always showing that she is getting bullied by him. But inside the room, it was different.
And his next priority came the recently acquired girls, Priya and Zainab.
But about Sneha, she was his third most priority. And if Shaista has not entered in his life, she would be his first priority.
So, he can even forget Naziya, Priya or Zainab, but he never forgets Sneha.
And about Neha and Payal, he has not thought of them in his priority. Why?
Because for him, they are already his, so what needs to think about them, since they are his.
"Why?"
Because, from that time, he knew Payal, Sneha and Neha.
They are like his underlings. He just told them, and they will do it. No matter what.
At first till class eight, both of them bullied him, and played with him. He has only one option, drop a few tears and escape from their bullying. And after escaping he went to bully Sneha.
He has also learnt about the sex, men's special parts, women's special parts, their uses from them. And even his first virginity was taken by them. It was Neha, but followed by Payal also.
And after they took his virginity, while also giving theirs. They now instead of bullying him, started loving him more.
They want to do everything, he want. Just the word left from his mouth, and in a few minutes or maximum a month, his demand is completed.
Just like when he was class 9, in class ten, a very rude but devilish beautiful girl, Maithili was. Her nose was always in the sky, like she owns the whole world.
And just for fun, Arahan mentioned that, how it would be good, that if Maithili will be laying down, and he will ride her.
And in a week, Neha and Payal called Arahan to her farmhouse.
Arahan didn't think about why they called him. But when he went there, he was shocked to see, not that Neha and Payal were there but, also Maithili was there.
They lured the arrogant beauty to Neha's farmhouse, played games until everyone was tipsy, and by midnight Maithili was on her back, legs spread, begging Arahan to take her virginity while Payal and Neha held her wrists and whispered encouragement.
Arahan takes her virginity and rides at her like she is his personal whore.
They never asked for credit. Never asked for thanks. They just delivered.
Whenever he wanted somethingāgirl, bike, exam paper, party venueāhe only had to mention it once. Not even directly. Just a passing comment. A week later, or a month at most, it appeared like magic.
"You need a Bullet bike." Next day, a brand new Bullet with gift wrapped placed in front of Arahan.
"What class 8 girl Sonia has crossed your way?"
In a week, Sonia is bending down, pointing at her back while her skirt is gathered at her waist. And she is getting ridden by Arahan, like he was her everything.
So, Neha and Payal were his silent army. His invisible hands. He didn't need to think about them in his priority list. They simply were his.
---
The nine days leading up to Sneha's birthday passed in a blur of quiet, focused preparation.
Arahan threw himself into it completely, because Sneha deserved it. She had waited years, never once pressuring him, never once doubting that he would deliver on the promise he'd made back in class 8.
He didn't choose Neha's farmhouse.
He chose something far more private. Far more his.
His own villa.
No one at school knew it existed. Only four people had ever stepped inside: Sahil (his first and only single male friend), Sabiha (Sahil's mom), Sana and Bushra (Sahil's sisters).
The villa sat on the outskirts of Lucknow, hidden behind high boundary walls draped in bougainvillea, accessible only by a private gated lane. From the outside it looked like any other large modern house. But once you passed through the carved teak double doorsā¦ It felt like stepping into a king's palace.
The entrance hall opened into a vast, double-height court, marble floors inlaid with geometric patterns, tall arched columns painted in deep crimson and gold, chandeliers dripping crystal like frozen rain.
At the exact center stood a raised throne, black teak, carved with lions and lotus motifs, cushioned in deep red velvet. No one ever sat on it. Arahan himself had never sat on it.
He didn't know why he'd built it that way.
The design had come to him in flashes, dreams, half-remembered images, a strange certainty that this was how it should look. A throne in the middle of a king's court.
A place of absolute power. He'd told the architect to follow his sketches exactly, paid in cash, and never questioned the impulse again.
Until now, standing in the middle of that empty court the day before Sneha's birthday, he felt it again. A faint tug. Like the throne was waiting for someone.
He shook it off.
There was work to do.
He called Neha and Payal that evening, only them. No one else.
"Change of venue," he said simply. "My villa. Not the farmhouse. Tomorrow night, 8 PM. Sneha thinks it's Neha's place, don't correct her until she arrives. Bring everything you already planned: cake, decorations, drinks, music system. I've handled the rest."
Neha's voice came through first, "Your villa? The secret one? Arahanā¦ you're really doing this for her?"
Payal jumped in: "We're on it. We'll make sure no one else knows. Just us four. Perfect."
Arahan ended the call.
Then he spent the rest of the night transforming the place.
---
The throne room (he still called it the court in his head) was draped in soft fairy lights and sheer white fabric that caught the glow like mist.
Low divans and silk cushions ringed the spaceāintimate, luxurious. A long table near the back held the catered food: biryani, kebabs, pastries, a three-tier chocolate cake with Sneha's name in gold icing.
Hidden speakers played a playlist he'd made himself, slow Bollywood tracks mixed with sensual instrumentals.
Upstairs, the master suite was prepared separately: fresh sheets, candles, chilled champagne, massage oil, condoms, lube. Just in case.
He didn't plan to force anything.
But Sneha had waited years for her "special gift."
And Arahan never broke a promise.
The next evening, Sneha's birthday, he waited at the gate.
At 7:55 p.m., Neha's car rolled in, Payal in the passenger seat, Sneha blindfolded in the back.
Sneha laughed as they helped her out, "You guys are being so dramatic! Where are we?"
Neha removed the blindfold. Sneha blinked, then gasped. The villa rose in front of her like a dream: lit up, grand, royal.
She turned to Arahan, her eyes wide, "Thisā¦ this is yours?"
He nodded once, "Happy birthday, Sneha."
She stared at him for a long moment, then launched herself into his arms, hugging him so tight he felt her heartbeat against his chest.
"Thanks."
They walked inside together, her hand in his, Neha and Payal trailing behind with knowing smiles.
The court doors opened. Sneha stopped dead.
The throne sat in the center, lit by a single spotlight, red velvet glowing like blood.
She looked up at Arahan, voice small.
"Why does it feel likeā¦ you built this for someone?"
"Not for someone," he said quietly, voice low enough that only Sneha could hear over the soft music. "For me."
Sneha tilted her head, eyes searching his face for a long second. Then she smiled and squeezed his hand.
The birthday began.
Neha and Payal had already dimmed the rest of the lights, so the throne room felt like a private kingdom. Soft fairy lights draped the columns, low divans scattered with silk cushions, the long table groaning under biryani, kebabs, pastries, and the three-tier chocolate cake with "Sneha" written in molten gold icing.
First came the dance.
Arahan pulled Sneha into the center of the court, right in front of the throne. The playlist he'd made shifted to a slow, sensual track, deep bass, silky strings, the kind of song that made bodies remember how to move without thinking.
Just them.
Sneha's arms looped around his neck; his hands settled low on her waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin where her crop top rode up.
They swayed, slow, intimate, her breasts pressed to his chest, his thigh slipping between hers. Every turn brought her hips grinding against him; every dip arched her back so he could kiss the hollow of her throat.
Sneha's breath hitched when she felt how hard he already was.
"You're not even trying to hide it," she whispered against his ear.
"Why should I?" he murmured back. "You've waited long enough."
They danced until the song fadedāuntil Sneha's cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy, her fingers trembling where they clutched his shirt.