How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 28
“Get her up,” said someone, and I thought for a moment that they meant to stand her, to allow her to wash or rest. But they simply lifted her and coaxed her onto her hands and knees, and my heart sank as I saw the third man kneel behind her. This one only bothered to remove a single piece of his armor to allow him to free his hard cock. He yanked her lehenga down her legs and off, but left her jooti and the pushed-down dress in place. His armored knees nudged her thighs apart and he ran his gloved hands over her smooth ass cheeks, the hard metal of his fingers a stark contrast to her softness. Then he rammed his cock into her moistened sex.

Even as she let out a moan , another man was stepping up in front of her, and I realized with dread that they meant to take her two at a time. He, too, only bothered to remove the bare minimum before kneeling in front of her, and used a finger to lift her head and make her look at his cock.

My wife visibly licked her lips, but then seemed to hesitate for a second. I could see, just for an instant, the guilt. The thought What am I doing?! must have gone through her head. I held my breath. Maybe she’d come to her senses. Maybe she’d stop!

But the madari had seen it too, and he sauntered over to her….

No! Don’t do it!

…and gently stroked her shoulder, letting her know that her “husband” was okay with what she was doing. But that alone wasn’t enough to overcome her guilt. She was still a married woman in her late twenties with friends and a reputation and the judgmental eye of society weighing down on her. She couldn’t allow herself to be roughly used by two men at once, however handsome and strong they were. Unless….

“P—Please,” she said, making her eyes go big and scared. The man behind her stopped his thrusts to listen. “I can’t! Not two of you at once! I’m not a Randi! I’m a noble woman! Don’t make me do this!”

The sipahi holding his cock before her lips smiled as she slipped back into character. “Some noble woman!” he told his friends. “She arrives with the seed of her last customer staining her thighs and asks us to believe she’s respectable!”

I saw my wife’s cheeks flare as his callous tone whipped her sexual heat even higher. “N—No!” she said. “I was a virgin, until this night! I am faithful to my one true love!” Already, her eyes were starting to glaze as she lost herself in the fantasy and the guilt dissolved—another small push would do it. She reached up to the sipahi’s hips, pawing at him. “Please, believe me!”

Another sipahi suddenly seized her hands. “She reaches for your purse!” he shouted. “The raja told us she was a thief!”

“Tie her hands!” said another.

“W—What?” gasped my wife. Almost instantly, I saw her eyes go glassy with arousal, the thought of being utterly helpless overtaking her. “N—No! No, don’t tie my hands!”

The sipahi smirked at each other, expertly reading her hidden meaning. I wondered how often these guys played similar games with submissive women. Were fantasies like my wife’s far more common than I’d thought?

Nandini’s wrists were bound behind her back with a leather thong. I saw her wrists snap against the leather once, twice, and then a tremor ran through her body as she realized it was going to hold firm. She was powerless.

With the man behind her still deep inside her pussy, they leaned her forward towards the other man’s waiting cock. “Open wide,” he grinned.

My wife was panting and gasping, almost drunk with arousal, eyes locked on the cock as she was moved towards it. Her bound arms made her breasts jut temptingly forward, and a couple of guys reached in to start fondling them. “God! No! Not my mouth!” she panted, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “God! Don’t make me take you—” Her plea was cut off as the cock plunged between her open lips, and they kept moving her forward. I saw inch after thick inch of the cock advance into her mouth, until the head must have been at the very back of her throat. She twisted and writhed, and I saw them all looking closely at her bound hands. It hit me that they were watching to see if she tapped her fingers together to tap out, but she didn’t.

“Should I keep going?” asked the one in her mouth, his voice heavy and slow with hunger. He brushed my wife’s cheek with his thumb. “Right down her gullet?”

My wife heard that and made the expected mumbled plea around his length, but they ignored her, focused only on her hands and the one sign they’d obey if it came.

“Why not?” said one of his friends. “She’s a Randi. She’ll likely be an expert at it.”

No! I thought. That’s my wife! And she’d almost never given head, and her first attempt at deep throat was only that evening! But when I tried to shout, my gag reduced it to a moan that was swallowed by the music.

The sipahi placed his hands on my wife’s cheeks and pulled her slowly forward, and my wife’s eyes bulged as he pushed through her tight opening and down into her throat. He shuffled forward a little and it went deeper, deeper…right down to the root. “Amazing,” he grunted, losing his Bengali accent. “Tight and hot. You have to try this.” Then he remembered himself. “The Randi’s throat grips my cock like a scared novice grips his sword. You should make use of her!” Everyone cheered and applauded him, and someone thrust a tankard of ale into his hand.

My wife, meanwhile, was trying to breathe around his cock. I could see her chest moving and her nostrils flaring, so I knew she was okay, but she must have felt vulnerable—helpless— and that must have inflamed her lust even more, because she went to work on his cock. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and I saw her jaw move as her tongue lashed his shaft.

“The harlot’s working her magic on me,” the sipahi announced as he drank his ale. “Fuck her—give her some extra encouragement!” he said to the man behind her. His friend began to thrust again, holding her hips in both hands as he drove into her. With the two men in almost full armor and my wife almost naked between them, two cocks stuffed deep in her, it was an obscene—and electrifying—tableau, the maiden ravished by the rampaging sipahi as they sacked a city.

I felt my cock stiffen even more. God, what was wrong with me? I’d wanted to see my wife lusted over, perhaps kissed or touched, but not this, not men using her as their plaything! But I couldn’t deny that it was turning me on. The way her breasts swayed and bounced, her upturned, perfect rear, clasped between the sipahi’s armored gloves, her huge eyes as she stared up at the sipahi in front of her, begging for mercy and getting none, his cock pushed obscenely deep between her lips. And then there was a merry jingle of money and both men were tossing their copper coins onto her back so that they lay gleaming against her pale skin, a reminder of her status—

I closed my eyes for a second. God, no! Even without stroking myself, I’d almost come.

I heard the slap, slap, slap of the man behind her as he sped up, and imagined his thickness spreading her wide. He wasn’t as big as the man before him, but with her on her knees, he could enter her more completely. I heard the wet sucking sound as she tended to the cock in her mouth, its owner still not moving, letting her do all the work while he watched and drank. The sounds grew faster. Faster. Faster.

My eyes flew open. I couldn’t help it—I had to see.