Title: Caged Obsession
Fandom: Saubhagyavati Bhava (Viraj Dobriyal)
Pairing: Viraj Dobriyal x Female Reader
Genre: Smut (webcam exhibitionism, cages, humiliation, obsession-driven control)
Summary: Trapped in Viraj’s mansion, you’re forced to perform for his cameras, your shame and desperation immortalized in every angle. He watches, records, and worships your humiliation, proving that escape is nothing but a fantasy.
SMUT WARNING! REAd AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!
The walls of Viraj’s mansion were a prison disguised in luxury, and he reveled in every detail of your captivity. Tonight, the velvet curtains were drawn, the chandelier dimmed, but you could feel the unseen eyes on you—the subtle glow of the red recording lights scattered across the room. His private cameras. His collection. His obsession.
You were in the cage at the center of it all, wrought iron bars gilded like something meant to be beautiful, but the lock at the front told the truth. Viraj stood just beyond, perfectly tailored suit jacket undone, tie hanging loose, his smile a weapon as he leaned against the frame.
“Perform for me, jaan,” he murmured, lifting the remote that flickered the monitors to life across the wall. On each screen, your body was framed from a different angle, every tremor of your breath, every nervous twitch of your thighs displayed. “Show me you understand who owns you.”
The shame burned hot across your face, but his command wrapped around you like chains. Your trembling hands slid down your body, pushing away fabric under his relentless gaze. The bars were cold against your back when you arched, exposing yourself to every lens, humiliation burning alongside the deep, unbearable ache between your thighs.
Viraj’s laugh was low, dark, vibrating in your chest even from across the bars. “That’s it. Every second recorded. Every sound immortalized. The world may never see it, but I will. Again. And again.”
You obeyed, fingers slipping lower, rubbing yourself open under the eyes of the cameras, your own broken moans echoing in the vast room. The key to the cage glinted from Viraj’s hand, but he made no move to use it—only pressed closer to the bars, his eyes fever-bright.
“Louder,” he ordered, voice suddenly sharp.
“Ahhh—hnnn—Viraj, please—” you cried, the tears spilling down your cheeks only making his smirk widen.
“Begging, trembling, humiliating yourself on camera,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against the bars as though he might devour you through them. “Perfect. My perfect little captive.”
Your body shook violently as you touched yourself harder, desperate, your orgasm rising fast under the twin weight of his control and the humiliation of being filmed. He slid his hand through the bars, fisting your hair, holding you in place while your climax hit, ripping screams from your throat that were captured by every microphone, displayed on every screen.
“Yes,” Viraj hissed, watching you fall apart. “Let them all see what I’ve made you into. My caged angel. My obsession. My sin.”
When you collapsed against the bars, panting, he pressed a kiss to your temple through the cold iron.
“Don’t worry, jaan,” he whispered, lifting the remote again to replay your ruin on loop across the monitors. “You’ll do it again tomorrow. And the next night. Until you forget there was ever a world beyond my cameras.”
