Your boss, taking your attempt at humor as a form of insubordination, reaches over and firmly twists your nipples through your shirt. The sudden pain makes you gasp, your eyes watering. His grip tightens as he leans closer, his breath hot on your neck. "That's for talking back," he says, his voice a low growl. The driver in the back seat shifts, his gaze flicking up to the rearview mirror to meet yours. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he watches the scene unfold. Your boss's grip on your nipples tightens even further at your refusal to comply, and he twists them harder, causing you to let out a pained cry. He leans back in his seat, his eyes narrowed. "chal ab chaddi khol "