How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 6
We explored the rest of the nauchandi, taking in a couple of music acts and watching some live demonstrations. For a few hours, everything was normal. I relaxed enough to begin enjoying myself again, feeling my cock harden each time a guy stared at Nandini’s breasts. But the excitement of that was shot through with the memory of a darker, riskier pleasure. Now that I’d seen her kiss another guy, having them merely look at her was less fun. Part of me wanted more...but I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk my wife getting carried away again, even with the boundaries we’d agreed. It felt as if I was playing with something truly dangerous.

The sun was sinking low, setting the sky ablaze with orange and gold, when I saw the man on horseback. He sat tall in the saddle and he was well built, but with an athlete’s powerful muscle, not a bodybuilder’s ugly bulk. He was dressed in an elaborate costume even grander than the nobles I’d seen walking around, and if there could have been any doubt who he was playing, the crown on his head sealed the deal.

Nandini had ducked into the tamboo of a self-proclaimed herbalist and was busy cooing over supposed love potions and elixirs of wealth, and I began to hope that she’d stay in there until he’d passed. As he came closer, I saw that he had dark, short hair and the sort of blue eyes that women say are piercing or clear blue pools. A strong jaw, too, shaved but already dark with stubble again, and defined cheekbones. He looked like he belonged in Hollywood. And he was even riding a white horse—he was a Mughal fantasy come true. I just knew that my wife would like him and that should have turned me on. It did, in a way. But something about his eyes sent a deep sense of unease through me. They were too...cold.

Weirdly, he seemed to be looking for someone as he rode towards us, checking out everyone in the crowd. People waved to him and stopped to chat and sometimes petted his horse, and he put on a good show of being friendly, but his eyes never stopped searching.

And then Nandini stepped out of the herbalist’s tamboo.

Within seconds, the raja was riding our way. He rode straight up to us, then past us, and now his eyes were fixed on the horizon. Nandini watched open-mouthed as he passed her, and let out a little sigh that sounded almost wistful.

It was only when he’d passed us that the raja glanced idly around and saw Nandini. Immediately, he pulled his horse up short and turned around to walk back to her. Nandini gave a little gasp of astonishment. She’d caught the king’s eye, just like the lowly maiden in the stories.

Except I knew that wasn’t what had happened at all. I knew now why he’d been searching the crowd so hard. He’d been looking for her, and now he’d made it look as if he’d happened upon her by chance. That sense of unease rose and grew.

“Fair lady,” the raja said in the best Bengali accent I’d heard all day. “A tragedy almost occurred. Another second and I might have ridden right past you and missed the opportunity to compliment your beauty.”

Something strange happened to Nandini. She sort of blushed and giggled and pushed a lock of hair back from her face, all at the same time, and then she was sort of crouching, folding her legs under her. It hit me that she was curtsying. She must have picked it up from those cable dramas. “You are too kind, sire,” she told him, slipping straight back into her own version of a Bengali accent.

The raja swung a leg over his horse and jumped down to the ground, landing easily. Hell, he was a lot taller than me, or Nandini. “I am not, good lady. Words can do you no insaf. What is your name?”

My wife had her eyes downcast, now, just flicking them up to meet his when she dared. “Nandini, sire.”

He looked at her clothes. More specifically, he looked at her breasts, pale and firm and offered up to him by the neck of the dress. I suddenly regretted persuading her to wear it. I suddenly regretted a lot of things. What was wrong with me? I knew Nandini wouldn’t cheat on me. We’d agreed that I’d stop her before she went too far, and this—a guy checking her out, clearly lusting after her body—was exactly what I’d wanted all along. So why did I get a sense of creeping dread every time I looked at the king?

No, wait. Not every time I looked at him. Every time I looked at the two of them together. That was it. I trusted Nandini...I just didn’t trust her with him. It was like watching a deer nuzzling the hand of a hunter.

Even as I thought it, the king’s gaze turned to me. “I see you brought one of your servants to the nauchandi,” he said. “Is he your stable lad?”

Nandini reddened on my behalf. “Oh! No, sire. He’s my husband.”

The raja made a big show of amazement. “A beautiful blossom like you is married to—” Then he appeared to catch himself. “My pardon. I meant no disrespect. A lady may marry a stable lad, of course, just as a raja may bed a vaishya. What he lacks in stature I’m sure he makes up for in other areas.”

He was grinning. A few people around us had stopped to listen, and the raja was careful to give me a big wink. It’s all part of the nauchandi, that wink said.

And so I laughed, and Nandini laughed too. It was all fine—everyone around us knew that the raja was really a great guy, and he was only playing at offending the poor husband.

But under the veneer of fun, it didn’t feel like that at all. There was a cruel gleam in the king’s eyes that everyone but me had missed. He was pretending it was a joke, but he was doing everything he could to make me look like an idiot.

Suddenly, he made the “Time out” symbol with his hands. I’d seen a few people do it when they wanted to say something out of character in a scene. He stepped closer to my wife. “Actually,” he said. “You may be able to help me. We’re about to do a public display scene and we need a stand in.”

Something about his voice hit me. He hadn’t shifted to an Bihari accent. I realized he actually was Bengali. No wonder he got to be the king! With those looks and that voice, he must be incredibly popular with the Mughal-e-azam scene.

“A scene?” Nandini asked. “For the public? Oh, I’m not an actress. We’re just guests.”

“I’m sure you’d do it very well. It’s just a capture and punishment scene.”

“Capture?” said Nandini, a strange little quiver in her voice.

“Punishment?” I asked.

The raja smiled wolfishly. “It’s just a bit of fun. We bring a criminal to insaf, put them in the stocks and spank them.”

“Spank...?” said Nandini disbelievingly...and, to my amazement, hopefully.

“That would be alright, wouldn’t it? You’re the adventurous type.” The king’s eyes twinkled.

I actually saw Nandini’s breathing speed up. Her chest started to visibly rise and fall and, with her low-cut dress, the effect was stunning. “I...Yes,” said Nandini. “Wait. No.”

The raja grinned again. “Make up your mind,” he said teasingly.

Nandini looked at me for a second, then turned back to the raja. “Yes,” she said.

It only occurred to me then that she’d been checking I was okay with it. That had been my opportunity to say “No,” and I’d missed it.

The raja immediately went back into his role. “You there! Stop! You’re one of the daakus who’ve been threatening my ships!” He advanced on my wife, his size intimidating.

Nandini put her hands up in front of her. “N—No, sire! You’ve made a mistake! I’m a simple kisan’s wife!”

He grabbed one slender wrist and pulled her to him, and she let herself be drawn tight against his body, her soft breasts pressed against him. “Yet you carry the weapons of an outlaw...or perhaps an assassin!” He unbuckled her belt and it fell to the floor, the sword and dagger clanging loudly.

Nandini was actually panting with arousal, now. Just as in the dance tamboo, the feel of being restrained by a strong, dominant man was doing something to her, putting her into a state I’d never seen her in during all our years together. Why did I never know this? I could have done this to her!

“N—No, sire!” she pleaded. “I am loyal to the king!” She non-struggled, which just rubbed her breasts against his chest.

“Silence! No doubt you have more knives concealed on you. Or perhaps poison to slip into my food!” the raja yelled, his booming, actor’s voice carrying. A crowd had quickly formed around us and everyone was eager to see insaf done.

“No, sire,” my wife almost shrieked.