How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 11
The procession was fun. Night had fallen and the route was lit by flaming torches, making everything look even more authentically mughal era. Nandini rode atop the king’s white charger at the head of the procession, the two of them waving to the crowd, and I capered alongside. Behind us, rows of the king’s sipahi, dressed in shining armor. Behind them, nobles, then the vaishyaes and common folk. Nandini and I were the only people there who weren’t part of the official crew. All the other guests were lining the route to watch.

I remembered my comment to Nandini, when I’d first suggested the nauchandi—It’ll be like Disneyland for grown-ups. And it was like that. For the first time in my life, I understood what it was like to be an entertainer, to be the one receiving the applause, and it was great. I was actually glad of the mask. Nandini, for all her shyness and blushes, seemed to take quite naturally to waving to the crowd, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. But with the mask on, I almost became a different person. Something about hiding my face made it easier to let myself go. I jumped and bounced alongside the horse, waving my arms to get the crowd going like a sports team mascot. I found I was actually having fun.

It helped that the raja seemed to be behaving himself. He was pressed right up behind my wife, close enough that I knew she could probably feel his cock against her ass again, but he didn’t seem to be actually trying to paw her. He’d put his hands on her sides to steady her, or wrap an arm around her waist while he waved with the other, but there was nothing that bothered me. In fact, it was exactly the sort of thing that turned me on—he was lusting after my wife, but he couldn’t do much about it, probably because a thousand eyes were on him. I was going to be the one to take her home at the end of the day. I’m definitely going to buy that vaishya’s outfit, I thought proudly.

By the time the procession finished, I almost didn’t want it to end. As Nandini slid down from the horse, she asked, “Glad we stayed? You looked like you were really getting into it.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s weird, but the mask makes it easier to let go.”

The raja interrupted. “That’s normal. A lot of guys find that.”

I blinked at him. I’d just been talking about the procession, not anything to do with our games. But Nandini nodded solemnly, as if anything the raja said must be full of wisdom.

“Come on,” the raja said. “Let’s get to the party.”

As the guests filed out of the site, the crew all made for the dance tamboo. People were rolling in barrels of ale and carrying bottles of mead, and musicians were bringing their instruments. I started to relax. Once I got inside, no doubt they’d relax the costume tradition a little and I’d be able to take the mask off. And then I could kick back with my wife and spend some time together. We’d be able to explore on my terms: maybe she’d tease another man or maybe we’d just enjoy the party together, lying on that big pile of cushions. It was going to be great!

The entrance to the tamboo was quite small, and there were a lot of people trying to get in. The raja let my wife go on ahead, but then hung back a little to let some people past. The result was that my wife was separated from us. I saw her realize too late and look back at me nervously, but I grinned to reassure her and waved at her to go in. She knew that she wasn’t to do anything without me there—I’d made that very clear. And besides, the raja wasn’t with her; he was still outside, with me.

The raja rolled his eyes at the crowd of people in front of us. “There’s a back way in,” he told me. “Let’s use that.”

Nandini had already disappeared through the entrance. I wanted to catch up with her, so I nodded.

He led me around the side of the dance tamboo, away from all the people. There was another tamboo beside it and the two came quite close together, so we had to pick our way carefully over guy ropes—not easy, in the dark, and even harder when you’re trying to see through tiny eyeholes in a mask.

“Wait,” the raja said suddenly. “Stop there.”

I stopped, thinking I was about to trip over something. And then he pushed me hard, sending me staggering sideways through a flap in the next door tamboo.

I went down, sprawling on the ground. I cried out, but the mask made an effective gag and, besides, the music had started in the dance tamboo. No one in there would be able to hear me.

Hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me to my feet, and then the mask was dragged over my head. More hands began to strip the rest of the madari costume off me.

I was more shocked than angry. “What the hell?!” I asked. I tried to turn around, but hard hands had grabbed my arms. “What are you doing? Let me get back to Nandini!”

The raja had ducked through the flap to follow me and now he straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. “Don’t worry,” he told me. “Nandini won’t be alone for long.”

I didn’t like the mocking way he said that. I opened my mouth to protest, but something was suddenly shoved inside it—it felt like a hard, rubber ball. Straps pulled tight across my cheeks and I felt them cinch tighter, then relax just a little. I tried to force the thing out of my mouth and couldn’t—they’d buckled it behind my head!