10-12-2024, 09:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-12-2024, 10:21 PM by Betacucky. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 4
In a swift, almost violent motion, Anand tore the rest of the delicate fabric of the babydoll and flung it aside. The lingerie struck my chest before drifting to the floor, like the final remnants of something precious being discarded. The impact wasn’t just physical—it was symbolic, a cruel unraveling of our bond. My chest tightened as tears blurred my vision again. Was it deliberate? Had he meant to throw this at me, to remind me of what he was taking, or was it just a meaningless accident in his display of dominance? Either way, the message was clear: What once was ours was now his to control.
Anand sat on the bed with an air of ownership, pulling Ananya down beside him as though she belonged to him now. I hesitated, my legs trembling, before sinking into the chair across the room, mimicking his action but from a distance. As I sat, I became disturbingly aware of my own arousal, a betrayal of my emotions and the gravity of the moment. The shame of it was unbearable, especially when my mind, unbidden, drew comparisons to the sheer dominance Anand exuded. It felt like a cruel joke, my body reacting to a scene that stripped away my dignity one moment at a time.
Anand's hands assertively claimed Ananya's body, his touch resonating with ownership as he explored her boobs. His fingers traced her skin deliberately, coaxing her nipples into tight peaks with practiced manipulation. He pinched and rolled them, drawing forth soft noises that filled the quiet room with echoes of his dominance. As Ananya's responses grew, Anand leaned in closer, his mouth finding her now sensitive breasts. He sucked on each nipple in turn, intensifying the sensation with a gentle tug that elicited deeper, more desperate yet reluctant moans from Ananya.She was trying to cover her boobs with her hands but Anand moved them aside, a silent plea woven into the motion, her eyes fluttering shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure. This act wasn’t merely physical but a stark display of control, visibly asserting his dominance in a way that left me immobilized, caught in a complex web of dismay and an unsettling stir of arousal.
Manavi came closer, her steps slow, her smirk making it clear she was enjoying this. The look in her eyes said it all—this wasn’t random; it was all part of their plan.
She reached out, her hand brushing against my thigh before moving to the small bulge in my boxers. Her touch wasn’t comforting—it was teasing, almost like she wanted to remind me how pathetic I looked. Without missing a beat, her hand slipped into my boxers, grabbing hold of my penis. "Oh, it’s so tiny and cute," she said with a laugh, her words hitting like a slap. Her fingers tightened slightly.
She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing my ear. "Look at them," she whispered, her voice low and mocking. "Your wife is finally seeing what a real man is like."
Her next words were colder, hitting me like a punch. "You know, she’s never going to feel the same after tonight," she said, her tone dripping with fake pity. Each word cut deeper, making the humiliation almost unbearable.
The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating me with humiliation and betrayal. Manavi’s words kept repeating in my head, each one hitting harder than the last. I forced myself to look at Ananya with Anand, and that’s when it really sank in—there was no going back. Whatever we had, whatever we were, was slipping away with every passing second, and I couldn’t stop it.
Manavi kept toying with me, her fingers pulling my boxers down with an ease that made me feel even smaller. "Let me take care of your little guy," she said, her tone dripping with mock kindness. Before I could even react, she took me fully into her mouth, the sudden warmth catching me off guard. For a fleeting moment, in the middle of this nightmare, it felt like I’d found some twisted relief.
Across the room, Anand didn’t even flinch at what his wife was doing—it was like this was normal for them. That thought lingered, making me question if their marriage had always been this open, this... twisted. My eyes darted to Ananya, who was now on her knees before Anand, but I couldn’t focus. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape everything, even for a second. But the moment was short-lived, and the crushing reality came rushing back.
Manavi suddenly pulled away, leaving me dazed and confused.
As Manavi pulled her hand back, leaving a chill where her warmth had just been, Ketan couldn’t help but glance over at Anand. He felt a familiar twinge of inferiority. There was Anand, commanding the room with that bold confidence Ketan always wished he had. Memories started creeping in—times when he'd silently resented standing in Anand's shadow, watching him charm everyone effortlessly back in college. Each flashback stung a little more now, highlighting how he'd always played the second fiddle. Watching Anand now, so in control, Ketan couldn't shake off the feeling that his worst fears about himself were on full display, painfully obvious to the very people he hoped would never see them.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Manavi asked, her voice low but clear. I froze, unsure if I’d heard her right. Slowly, she began sliding off her pajamas, revealing black lacy panties that hugged her hips perfectly. "Come on, put it in me," she demanded, bending over the edge of the chair. The twisted absurdity of the moment didn’t stop me. Desperate for any escape from my shame, I obeyed.
I slid her panties down and positioned myself at her entrance, pushing in slowly. But as I did, my stomach dropped. There was no friction—none. I hesitated, stunned, as Manavi turned to glance back at me, confusion flashing across her face.
"Stop teasing me and just do it," she snapped impatiently. I tried again, but it was useless. She started laughing—soft at first, but it grew louder, cutting through the room like a knife. Her laughter burned, and tears pricked my eyes as I realized the full extent of my humiliation. Is this what my wife is going to feel like after tonight ?
Manavi stepped back, leaving me in my misery as she walked over to watch her husband with my wife.
Anand already had Anana on her back. He had decided to go down on her, laying her gently on the bed. She tried to close her legs, shy and resistant, but Anand wasn't having it. He firmly pushed them apart and positioned himself between them. "You have a very beautiful pussy, Ananya," he said loud enough for me to hear.
He then bent down, his lips meeting her intimate ones. I knew from experience how beautiful they were. Unlike other Indian women they were pinkish instead of brown. Ananya continued to resist, attempting to cover herself with her hands, but it was a futile effort. Although my view was partially obstructed, the soft, reluctant hums from Ananya indicated that Anand was hitting all the right spots.
With his fingers, he spread her lips to expose her clit, spat on it, and then sucked the moisture back up, drawing another sharp whimper from Ananya as her hands moved to clutch at the bedsheet above her head. Anand kept up his relentless attention, running his tongue across her, flicking her clit occasionally, and probing her opening. He was preparing her, molding her pussy to fit his stallion.
Anand's stare was sharp, piercing through the dimness with an icy intensity that commanded the room. "Come here," he commanded me, his voice deep and resonant, echoing with a menacing authority that seemed to reverberate off the walls. Each step I took toward him felt difficult, as if I were walking through thick mud, my heart pounding audibly in my chest, thumping a relentless rhythm of dread and a reluctant anticipation that I struggled to suppress.
"Lick it," Anand ordered, his voice harsh and commanding, his cruel smirk widening as he gestured toward his erect, throbbing cock. The directive struck me like a slap, a surge of humiliation flooding through me, washing over my senses in waves of disgrace and shame. With a heavy heart, I knelt before him, the proximity to his overpowering masculinity almost overwhelming—the air was thick with his musky scent, tinged with the acrid hint of sweat.
As I drew closer, the details of his cock became oppressively clear—veins prominent against the taut skin, each one a stark reminder of the power he wielded over me. The shadows in the room seemed to converge around us, deepening the sense of my degradation as I leaned in, the heat from his body intensifying the stifling atmosphere. My lips parted reluctantly, the taste of my own defeat bitter against my tongue as I prepared to comply with his humiliating command, each breath I took heavy with the weight of the moment, a palpable tension filling the room as I surrendered to his will.
With trembling hands, I reached out, the heat from his body radiating onto my skin. My fingers brushed against the thick base of his cock, feeling the pulsing heat and the velvety texture of his skin. It was way thicker than what I was used to holding. I paused, my breath catching in my throat as I forced myself to extend my tongue. The first touch of my tongue to the smooth, heated flesh of Anand’s cock was electric, metallic and slightly salty to the taste. I dragged my tongue slowly up the length of his shaft, each movement deliberate and filled with a mortifying mixture of revulsion and an inexplicable arousal.
As I bent to Anand's degrading command, a part of me recoiled, sickened by what I was doing. How had it come to this? Yet, disturbingly, with each command Anand uttered, my body betrayed me with a confusing reaction—my own cock twitched, an unwanted response that filled me with deep self-loathing. I wasn’t attracted to men, but the perverse thrill of his absolute control seemed to trigger something involuntary within me, a humiliating acknowledgment of his dominance that chipped away at my self-respect.
The texture under my tongue was unnervingly intimate—ridged veins and black skin that twitched at my touch. Anand groaned above me, a sound of dark approval that sent a shiver down my spine. “That’s it, prepare it well,” he murmured, his hand finding the back of my head and pressing gently, guiding my movements as I serviced him with growing desperation.
After what felt like an agonizing eternity, Anand finally pulled back, his lips curled in a satisfied smirk. He turned his attention back to Ananya, who lay on the bed, her breathing quick and uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as anxiety washed over her. "Guide me into her," he whispered roughly, his voice low and commanding as he held his slick, saliva-coated cock. "Put it where it belongs."
With a heavy heart, I aligned the head of his cock at the entrance of Ananya’s pussy. The stark contrast between my submission and his impending invasion of her was overwhelming. Ananya preparing for her ordeal let out a sharp gasp. Her eyes widened, filled with a mix of dread and acceptance, as she stared at the moment about to unfold. The room seemed to hold its breath, filled with a thick tension as I held him there, just touching the entrance, waiting for what was next.
"I’m going to make you into my slut tonight, and trust me—you’ll enjoy it," Anand whispered harshly, his voice a sinister promise that hung thick in the air. He gave no chance for any plea or protest. In one swift, merciless motion, he thrust forward, burying just half of his massive cock. Ananya's response was immediate and visceral; a sharp, pained scream tore from her lips, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Marrrrrrrrrrrr Gayiiiiiiiiiii ," echoing through the room. Her cry was raw, filled with a mix of pain and shock so profound it was as if her very soul was recoiling. Tears streamed unchecked down her face, tracing lines of clear agony against her flushed skin.
It was a gut-wrenching moment, watching her body arch and tense under the brutal invasion, her hands clutching at the sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to something, anything.
The intensity of her scream suggested a pain so deep, it was as if she was experiencing losing her virginity all over again. Each of Anand’s subsequent thrusts twisted that metaphorical knife deeper into my gut, a stark and relentless reminder of the physical and emotional betrayal unfolding before my eyes. The sound of their bodies meeting—skin against skin in a harsh, unyielding rhythm—created a backdrop to her cries that was almost primitive in its brutality.
The room resonated with the low thumping and rhythmic sounds of Ananya's increasingly labored breathing, mixed with the subtle creak of the bed. Each breath Ananya took seemed to catch halfway, releasing in soft, involuntary noises. Anand moved with deliberate intensity, his every motion calculated to dominate both the physical and emotional space as their shadows danced against the dimly lit walls.
Anand's movements grew more forceful, each thrust more deliberate and punishing, echoing through the room with the harsh sound of skin on skin. Ananya's screams escalated with each push, her voice cracking under the sheer intensity of her pain, the sound raw and haunting. But Anand seemed unfazed by her distress; he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, as he whispered with delight, "I love fucking wives in front of their husbands." He paused, letting the sinister words hang heavy in the air, his cruel smile broadening, relishing the twisted power of his words.
"And I’m going to make sure you enjoy it, Ananya," he continued, his voice low and menacing. "Soon, you’ll crave this—crave another man fucking you like this, while your husband watches, completely helpless."
With each forceful push, it seemed Anand drove himself deeper, his control absolute. Ananya's body tensed sharply against him, her back arching as though trying to escape, but bound by the overwhelming force of his presence. Her initial screams of pain slowly transformed into desperate, broken pleas, her voice trembling, "Aaah, aahh, please... slowly," she whimpered. But Anand was relentless, ignoring her pleas entirely.
Instead, he kissed her deeply, his lips pressing against hers with a hunger that seemed to consume her, his tongue invading her mouth as if claiming every part of her being. His hands gripped her boobs tightly, fingers digging into her flesh, owning every inch of her. The intensity of his grasp left little imprints on her breasts, marking them as his property.
Each of his movements was intensely possessive, leaving no room for resistance, no space for Ananya to retreat. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, the continuous rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall, and Ananya's increasingly labored breathing mixed with occasional pleas. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the undeniable aroma of sex, enveloping them.
Anand's domination was not just physical but profoundly psychological, imprinting on Ananya a mixture of fear, pain, and a twisted thread of pleasure that was confusing and overwhelming. The complexity of her emotions played out vividly across her face, each grimace, each reluctant sound painting a picture of her internal turmoil as Anand continued his relentless assault, each thrust aiming to erase her past self and reshape her into the image of his perverse desire.
Manavi stayed close, her gaze fixed on the scene with an unsettling mix of fascination and amusement. She didn’t say much at first, just watching, but her smirk spoke volumes. Her presence alone was enough to remind me how twisted this entire situation had become.
Anand suddenly paused , got up and glanced over at me with a smirk. He motioned for Ananya to stand beside him, her body still trembling from the onslaught. Reaching for the mangalsutra that still hung around her neck, he drew her close, his fingers delicately tracing the sacred beads. "Let's see if this symbol of your love can handle something more substantial," he sneered. With a cold precision, he unclasped the mangalsutra and handed it to me. "Tie this around my cock, Ketan. Make yourself useful for once."
With a heavy heart, I took the mangalsutra in my shaking hands, the beads cold and alien against the heated backdrop of our betrayal. Approaching Anand, I wrapped the mangalsutra around his engorged cock with trembling hands, each bead sliding into place with a definitive click that echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. The weight of our vows now encircled his huge cock, a perverse crown of my own making.
"This is where it belongs now," Anand declared, thrusting forward as the beads brushed against Ananya’s skin with each movement. Ananya's eyes, wide with shock and hurt, met mine over his shoulder, a silent scream in their depths.
The minutes stretched endlessly, each second adding to the torment. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even as I wished I could. Ananya’s screams, which had been filled with pain and resistance, started to change. Slowly, they softened, morphing into something I didn’t want to believe—
Her cries changed, giving way to something else—low, breathy moans that sent a jolt through me. "Hmmm...mpphhh...mpphhhh," the sounds escaped her lips, hesitant at first, but quickly growing in intensity. My stomach churned as I watched her body respond to him. Her hips started moving, almost involuntarily, meeting his thrusts with a rhythm that felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.
Every so often, Manavi leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "Look at her," she murmured, her tone dripping with mockery. "See how much she’s starting to enjoy it? I bet you never thought you’d witness this." Her words hit their mark, each one twisting the knife deeper into the knot of shame and helplessness in my chest.
I couldn’t look away, though every second felt like a punishment. The way her back arched, her boobs bounced with each thrust, pressing against his chest, the flush spreading over her skin—it was all too much. This wasn’t the woman I knew. The Ananya I married would never—could never—sound like this, move like this, lose herself like this. "Ahhh... ahhh.. ahhh," her moans grew louder with each thrust, filling the room, drowning out my thoughts. I felt devastated as I tried to ground myself against the rising tide of humiliation and despair. She was responding to him in ways she never had with me, and no matter how much I wanted to believe it was all his doing, part of me couldn’t ignore the undeniable truth. This wasn’t just happening to her—it was happening with her.
I wanted to blame him for all of this—for the way her body was moving, for the sounds that escaped her lips. But deep down, a small, hateful voice whispered that part of her wanted this, needed this. That voice was a blade, carving away at the remnants of my pride.
"Suddenly, Ananya’s soft moans escalated into a loud, prolonged scream that seemed to fill the entire room. Aaaaaaagggghhhhhhhhh...." Her body stiffened abruptly, then shuddered as though struck by a massive wave. Her stomach and her lower body kept twitching for 30 seconds. . Anand immediately noticed, his grin morphing into something darkly triumphant as his gaze flicked toward me. He didn’t need to utter a word; his expression conveyed everything. He had conquered my woman, making Ananya climax on his formidable size, a feat I had never achieved. He had dominated my wife in a way I never could, and he made sure I was fully aware of it.
As I stood there, the reality that Ananya had just experienced such an intense orgasm under another man's touch was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving me grappling with disbelief.
Anand gave her a moment to enjoy the sensations. He paused, standing up with an air of control that made my stomach churn. Without hesitation, he strode over to me and yanked me up by the arm, his grip like iron.
"You too stand up, slut," he barked at Ananya, his voice sharp and commanding. She moved slowly, climbing off the bed without protest, her head lowered as though avoiding his gaze.
He turned back to me, his face hard and unyielding. "Your turn, bitch boy," he said sharply, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. Do you know what a three way 69 is?" he asked. I shook my head. I did not know what it meant. "Lie down with your head at the foot of the bed." His voice was firm, leaving no room for any protest, and the authority in his tone made me shiver as I slowly obeyed. His commands felt heavy in the air, each one echoing in my ears, reminding me of how little power I had left.
As I lay there, a sense of dread filled my chest, cold and heavy. I couldn't stop wondering what Anand would do next, the uncertainty gnawing at me. Just then, I caught Ananya's gaze. Her eyes were unnaturally calm, holding mine in a steady, almost unsettling stare.
Her eyes held a mix of emotions—love, fear, desperation—all swirling together in a silent storm that seemed to pull me in. This strange calmness in her gaze brought a small relief to my panic.
Lying flat on my back at the foot of the bed, I was transformed into an involuntary platform for Anand's domination. He lifted Ananya and positioned her in a modified doggy style directly on top of my body. Her stomach pressed against mine, and her face, a picture of confusion and dread, was turned outward. Horrifyingly, her gaze was inadvertently directed towards my tiny lulli. Wait, did I just start referring to my penis as lulli?
The intimate details of her pussy were painfully clear from this angle—her tight pink petals vividly exposed. I smelt their musky aroma. Her pussy smelt a mix of her and Anand’s scent. In this position, every inch of her was agonizingly visible to me. Anand stood beside the bed, towering over us both. He maintained his balance while controlling the motion with precise dominance, his massive length in hand as he prepared to re-enter Ananya. The bed creaked under the shift of his weight as he leaned forward, his movements orchestrated with clinical precision.
He moved forward and his 8 inch long monster came into view. He crawled closer and put his knees on either side of my head. He was aiming his cock straight at Ananya’s pussy. His size never failed to amaze me. I moved out of the way making way for his invader. He skillfully rubbed his cock all over Ananya’s pussy gathering up all the wetness. He rubbed his cock up and down her slit brushing against her clit. Anand placed the tip of his cock at her entrance and pushed slightly. Ananya's outer lips puffed and stretched. As he pushed further, they spread wider exposing her engorged clitoris. Her pussy was visibly stretched but Anand had still not entered her. With the tip of his cock locked in place, Anand reached around and started skilfully rubbing her clit. Her pussy contracted squeezing the tip and immediately relaxed. Anand pushed forward and her pussy closed around his head. Anand moved his hand away and held her in place by her hips. He waited and let her get used to his size again. Her lips were still stretched, and her clit was clearly visible.
As he thrust forward, the mangalsutra tied grotesquely around his engorged cock swung ominously. The black beads, symbols of our sacred marriage vows, tapped rhythmically against Ananya's skin with each powerful thrust. This perverse display turned the sacred necklace into a chilling reminder of the vows it once honored, now twisted into a tool of humiliation.
Each movement from Anand caused Ananya's body to shift slightly on top of me, the pressure fluctuating with the rhythm of his thrusts. The situation trapped me both physically and emotionally under the weight of their union. The degradation symbolized by the mangalsutra, combined with Anand's physical dominance, was as clear in its execution as it was devastating in its implications.
Anand started with small slow strokes. Pulling out and stuffing in a little more of his cock on each stroke. Just like before Ananya's pussy lips would stretch out clinging to his cock when he withdrew. . My erection was swinging back and forth as Anand's strokes started shaking the bed. When he was halfway in, Ananya started to have an orgasm. Anand was on an out stroke, and he stopped. I could clearly see the twitching of her stretched lips squeezing and relaxing as if trying to pull his cock back in. Her muscles continued to twitch for another 30 seconds as she let out a long moan "Aaaaaaagggghhhhhhhhh". She was so close to my penis that I felt the vibrations of her moan run down its length and into my balls.
Anand patiently waited for her to finish cumming before starting again. Just his size and stamina would be enough for any woman, but his skill was amazing. He varied his strokes. Faster-slower, deeper-shallower. Sometimes he would just rotate his hips in a circular motion. As he went deeper, I could see Ananya's lower belly bulge every time he pushed in. It was clearly visible how far he was going..
In a swift, almost violent motion, Anand tore the rest of the delicate fabric of the babydoll and flung it aside. The lingerie struck my chest before drifting to the floor, like the final remnants of something precious being discarded. The impact wasn’t just physical—it was symbolic, a cruel unraveling of our bond. My chest tightened as tears blurred my vision again. Was it deliberate? Had he meant to throw this at me, to remind me of what he was taking, or was it just a meaningless accident in his display of dominance? Either way, the message was clear: What once was ours was now his to control.
Anand sat on the bed with an air of ownership, pulling Ananya down beside him as though she belonged to him now. I hesitated, my legs trembling, before sinking into the chair across the room, mimicking his action but from a distance. As I sat, I became disturbingly aware of my own arousal, a betrayal of my emotions and the gravity of the moment. The shame of it was unbearable, especially when my mind, unbidden, drew comparisons to the sheer dominance Anand exuded. It felt like a cruel joke, my body reacting to a scene that stripped away my dignity one moment at a time.
Anand's hands assertively claimed Ananya's body, his touch resonating with ownership as he explored her boobs. His fingers traced her skin deliberately, coaxing her nipples into tight peaks with practiced manipulation. He pinched and rolled them, drawing forth soft noises that filled the quiet room with echoes of his dominance. As Ananya's responses grew, Anand leaned in closer, his mouth finding her now sensitive breasts. He sucked on each nipple in turn, intensifying the sensation with a gentle tug that elicited deeper, more desperate yet reluctant moans from Ananya.She was trying to cover her boobs with her hands but Anand moved them aside, a silent plea woven into the motion, her eyes fluttering shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure. This act wasn’t merely physical but a stark display of control, visibly asserting his dominance in a way that left me immobilized, caught in a complex web of dismay and an unsettling stir of arousal.
Manavi came closer, her steps slow, her smirk making it clear she was enjoying this. The look in her eyes said it all—this wasn’t random; it was all part of their plan.
She reached out, her hand brushing against my thigh before moving to the small bulge in my boxers. Her touch wasn’t comforting—it was teasing, almost like she wanted to remind me how pathetic I looked. Without missing a beat, her hand slipped into my boxers, grabbing hold of my penis. "Oh, it’s so tiny and cute," she said with a laugh, her words hitting like a slap. Her fingers tightened slightly.
She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing my ear. "Look at them," she whispered, her voice low and mocking. "Your wife is finally seeing what a real man is like."
Her next words were colder, hitting me like a punch. "You know, she’s never going to feel the same after tonight," she said, her tone dripping with fake pity. Each word cut deeper, making the humiliation almost unbearable.
The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating me with humiliation and betrayal. Manavi’s words kept repeating in my head, each one hitting harder than the last. I forced myself to look at Ananya with Anand, and that’s when it really sank in—there was no going back. Whatever we had, whatever we were, was slipping away with every passing second, and I couldn’t stop it.
Manavi kept toying with me, her fingers pulling my boxers down with an ease that made me feel even smaller. "Let me take care of your little guy," she said, her tone dripping with mock kindness. Before I could even react, she took me fully into her mouth, the sudden warmth catching me off guard. For a fleeting moment, in the middle of this nightmare, it felt like I’d found some twisted relief.
Across the room, Anand didn’t even flinch at what his wife was doing—it was like this was normal for them. That thought lingered, making me question if their marriage had always been this open, this... twisted. My eyes darted to Ananya, who was now on her knees before Anand, but I couldn’t focus. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape everything, even for a second. But the moment was short-lived, and the crushing reality came rushing back.
Manavi suddenly pulled away, leaving me dazed and confused.
As Manavi pulled her hand back, leaving a chill where her warmth had just been, Ketan couldn’t help but glance over at Anand. He felt a familiar twinge of inferiority. There was Anand, commanding the room with that bold confidence Ketan always wished he had. Memories started creeping in—times when he'd silently resented standing in Anand's shadow, watching him charm everyone effortlessly back in college. Each flashback stung a little more now, highlighting how he'd always played the second fiddle. Watching Anand now, so in control, Ketan couldn't shake off the feeling that his worst fears about himself were on full display, painfully obvious to the very people he hoped would never see them.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Manavi asked, her voice low but clear. I froze, unsure if I’d heard her right. Slowly, she began sliding off her pajamas, revealing black lacy panties that hugged her hips perfectly. "Come on, put it in me," she demanded, bending over the edge of the chair. The twisted absurdity of the moment didn’t stop me. Desperate for any escape from my shame, I obeyed.
I slid her panties down and positioned myself at her entrance, pushing in slowly. But as I did, my stomach dropped. There was no friction—none. I hesitated, stunned, as Manavi turned to glance back at me, confusion flashing across her face.
"Stop teasing me and just do it," she snapped impatiently. I tried again, but it was useless. She started laughing—soft at first, but it grew louder, cutting through the room like a knife. Her laughter burned, and tears pricked my eyes as I realized the full extent of my humiliation. Is this what my wife is going to feel like after tonight ?
Manavi stepped back, leaving me in my misery as she walked over to watch her husband with my wife.
Anand already had Anana on her back. He had decided to go down on her, laying her gently on the bed. She tried to close her legs, shy and resistant, but Anand wasn't having it. He firmly pushed them apart and positioned himself between them. "You have a very beautiful pussy, Ananya," he said loud enough for me to hear.
He then bent down, his lips meeting her intimate ones. I knew from experience how beautiful they were. Unlike other Indian women they were pinkish instead of brown. Ananya continued to resist, attempting to cover herself with her hands, but it was a futile effort. Although my view was partially obstructed, the soft, reluctant hums from Ananya indicated that Anand was hitting all the right spots.
With his fingers, he spread her lips to expose her clit, spat on it, and then sucked the moisture back up, drawing another sharp whimper from Ananya as her hands moved to clutch at the bedsheet above her head. Anand kept up his relentless attention, running his tongue across her, flicking her clit occasionally, and probing her opening. He was preparing her, molding her pussy to fit his stallion.
Anand's stare was sharp, piercing through the dimness with an icy intensity that commanded the room. "Come here," he commanded me, his voice deep and resonant, echoing with a menacing authority that seemed to reverberate off the walls. Each step I took toward him felt difficult, as if I were walking through thick mud, my heart pounding audibly in my chest, thumping a relentless rhythm of dread and a reluctant anticipation that I struggled to suppress.
"Lick it," Anand ordered, his voice harsh and commanding, his cruel smirk widening as he gestured toward his erect, throbbing cock. The directive struck me like a slap, a surge of humiliation flooding through me, washing over my senses in waves of disgrace and shame. With a heavy heart, I knelt before him, the proximity to his overpowering masculinity almost overwhelming—the air was thick with his musky scent, tinged with the acrid hint of sweat.
As I drew closer, the details of his cock became oppressively clear—veins prominent against the taut skin, each one a stark reminder of the power he wielded over me. The shadows in the room seemed to converge around us, deepening the sense of my degradation as I leaned in, the heat from his body intensifying the stifling atmosphere. My lips parted reluctantly, the taste of my own defeat bitter against my tongue as I prepared to comply with his humiliating command, each breath I took heavy with the weight of the moment, a palpable tension filling the room as I surrendered to his will.
With trembling hands, I reached out, the heat from his body radiating onto my skin. My fingers brushed against the thick base of his cock, feeling the pulsing heat and the velvety texture of his skin. It was way thicker than what I was used to holding. I paused, my breath catching in my throat as I forced myself to extend my tongue. The first touch of my tongue to the smooth, heated flesh of Anand’s cock was electric, metallic and slightly salty to the taste. I dragged my tongue slowly up the length of his shaft, each movement deliberate and filled with a mortifying mixture of revulsion and an inexplicable arousal.
As I bent to Anand's degrading command, a part of me recoiled, sickened by what I was doing. How had it come to this? Yet, disturbingly, with each command Anand uttered, my body betrayed me with a confusing reaction—my own cock twitched, an unwanted response that filled me with deep self-loathing. I wasn’t attracted to men, but the perverse thrill of his absolute control seemed to trigger something involuntary within me, a humiliating acknowledgment of his dominance that chipped away at my self-respect.
The texture under my tongue was unnervingly intimate—ridged veins and black skin that twitched at my touch. Anand groaned above me, a sound of dark approval that sent a shiver down my spine. “That’s it, prepare it well,” he murmured, his hand finding the back of my head and pressing gently, guiding my movements as I serviced him with growing desperation.
After what felt like an agonizing eternity, Anand finally pulled back, his lips curled in a satisfied smirk. He turned his attention back to Ananya, who lay on the bed, her breathing quick and uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as anxiety washed over her. "Guide me into her," he whispered roughly, his voice low and commanding as he held his slick, saliva-coated cock. "Put it where it belongs."
With a heavy heart, I aligned the head of his cock at the entrance of Ananya’s pussy. The stark contrast between my submission and his impending invasion of her was overwhelming. Ananya preparing for her ordeal let out a sharp gasp. Her eyes widened, filled with a mix of dread and acceptance, as she stared at the moment about to unfold. The room seemed to hold its breath, filled with a thick tension as I held him there, just touching the entrance, waiting for what was next.
"I’m going to make you into my slut tonight, and trust me—you’ll enjoy it," Anand whispered harshly, his voice a sinister promise that hung thick in the air. He gave no chance for any plea or protest. In one swift, merciless motion, he thrust forward, burying just half of his massive cock. Ananya's response was immediate and visceral; a sharp, pained scream tore from her lips, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Marrrrrrrrrrrr Gayiiiiiiiiiii ," echoing through the room. Her cry was raw, filled with a mix of pain and shock so profound it was as if her very soul was recoiling. Tears streamed unchecked down her face, tracing lines of clear agony against her flushed skin.
It was a gut-wrenching moment, watching her body arch and tense under the brutal invasion, her hands clutching at the sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to something, anything.
The intensity of her scream suggested a pain so deep, it was as if she was experiencing losing her virginity all over again. Each of Anand’s subsequent thrusts twisted that metaphorical knife deeper into my gut, a stark and relentless reminder of the physical and emotional betrayal unfolding before my eyes. The sound of their bodies meeting—skin against skin in a harsh, unyielding rhythm—created a backdrop to her cries that was almost primitive in its brutality.
The room resonated with the low thumping and rhythmic sounds of Ananya's increasingly labored breathing, mixed with the subtle creak of the bed. Each breath Ananya took seemed to catch halfway, releasing in soft, involuntary noises. Anand moved with deliberate intensity, his every motion calculated to dominate both the physical and emotional space as their shadows danced against the dimly lit walls.
Anand's movements grew more forceful, each thrust more deliberate and punishing, echoing through the room with the harsh sound of skin on skin. Ananya's screams escalated with each push, her voice cracking under the sheer intensity of her pain, the sound raw and haunting. But Anand seemed unfazed by her distress; he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, as he whispered with delight, "I love fucking wives in front of their husbands." He paused, letting the sinister words hang heavy in the air, his cruel smile broadening, relishing the twisted power of his words.
"And I’m going to make sure you enjoy it, Ananya," he continued, his voice low and menacing. "Soon, you’ll crave this—crave another man fucking you like this, while your husband watches, completely helpless."
With each forceful push, it seemed Anand drove himself deeper, his control absolute. Ananya's body tensed sharply against him, her back arching as though trying to escape, but bound by the overwhelming force of his presence. Her initial screams of pain slowly transformed into desperate, broken pleas, her voice trembling, "Aaah, aahh, please... slowly," she whimpered. But Anand was relentless, ignoring her pleas entirely.
Instead, he kissed her deeply, his lips pressing against hers with a hunger that seemed to consume her, his tongue invading her mouth as if claiming every part of her being. His hands gripped her boobs tightly, fingers digging into her flesh, owning every inch of her. The intensity of his grasp left little imprints on her breasts, marking them as his property.
Each of his movements was intensely possessive, leaving no room for resistance, no space for Ananya to retreat. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, the continuous rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall, and Ananya's increasingly labored breathing mixed with occasional pleas. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the undeniable aroma of sex, enveloping them.
Anand's domination was not just physical but profoundly psychological, imprinting on Ananya a mixture of fear, pain, and a twisted thread of pleasure that was confusing and overwhelming. The complexity of her emotions played out vividly across her face, each grimace, each reluctant sound painting a picture of her internal turmoil as Anand continued his relentless assault, each thrust aiming to erase her past self and reshape her into the image of his perverse desire.
Manavi stayed close, her gaze fixed on the scene with an unsettling mix of fascination and amusement. She didn’t say much at first, just watching, but her smirk spoke volumes. Her presence alone was enough to remind me how twisted this entire situation had become.
Anand suddenly paused , got up and glanced over at me with a smirk. He motioned for Ananya to stand beside him, her body still trembling from the onslaught. Reaching for the mangalsutra that still hung around her neck, he drew her close, his fingers delicately tracing the sacred beads. "Let's see if this symbol of your love can handle something more substantial," he sneered. With a cold precision, he unclasped the mangalsutra and handed it to me. "Tie this around my cock, Ketan. Make yourself useful for once."
With a heavy heart, I took the mangalsutra in my shaking hands, the beads cold and alien against the heated backdrop of our betrayal. Approaching Anand, I wrapped the mangalsutra around his engorged cock with trembling hands, each bead sliding into place with a definitive click that echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. The weight of our vows now encircled his huge cock, a perverse crown of my own making.
"This is where it belongs now," Anand declared, thrusting forward as the beads brushed against Ananya’s skin with each movement. Ananya's eyes, wide with shock and hurt, met mine over his shoulder, a silent scream in their depths.
The minutes stretched endlessly, each second adding to the torment. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even as I wished I could. Ananya’s screams, which had been filled with pain and resistance, started to change. Slowly, they softened, morphing into something I didn’t want to believe—
Her cries changed, giving way to something else—low, breathy moans that sent a jolt through me. "Hmmm...mpphhh...mpphhhh," the sounds escaped her lips, hesitant at first, but quickly growing in intensity. My stomach churned as I watched her body respond to him. Her hips started moving, almost involuntarily, meeting his thrusts with a rhythm that felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.
Every so often, Manavi leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "Look at her," she murmured, her tone dripping with mockery. "See how much she’s starting to enjoy it? I bet you never thought you’d witness this." Her words hit their mark, each one twisting the knife deeper into the knot of shame and helplessness in my chest.
I couldn’t look away, though every second felt like a punishment. The way her back arched, her boobs bounced with each thrust, pressing against his chest, the flush spreading over her skin—it was all too much. This wasn’t the woman I knew. The Ananya I married would never—could never—sound like this, move like this, lose herself like this. "Ahhh... ahhh.. ahhh," her moans grew louder with each thrust, filling the room, drowning out my thoughts. I felt devastated as I tried to ground myself against the rising tide of humiliation and despair. She was responding to him in ways she never had with me, and no matter how much I wanted to believe it was all his doing, part of me couldn’t ignore the undeniable truth. This wasn’t just happening to her—it was happening with her.
I wanted to blame him for all of this—for the way her body was moving, for the sounds that escaped her lips. But deep down, a small, hateful voice whispered that part of her wanted this, needed this. That voice was a blade, carving away at the remnants of my pride.
"Suddenly, Ananya’s soft moans escalated into a loud, prolonged scream that seemed to fill the entire room. Aaaaaaagggghhhhhhhhh...." Her body stiffened abruptly, then shuddered as though struck by a massive wave. Her stomach and her lower body kept twitching for 30 seconds. . Anand immediately noticed, his grin morphing into something darkly triumphant as his gaze flicked toward me. He didn’t need to utter a word; his expression conveyed everything. He had conquered my woman, making Ananya climax on his formidable size, a feat I had never achieved. He had dominated my wife in a way I never could, and he made sure I was fully aware of it.
As I stood there, the reality that Ananya had just experienced such an intense orgasm under another man's touch was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving me grappling with disbelief.
Anand gave her a moment to enjoy the sensations. He paused, standing up with an air of control that made my stomach churn. Without hesitation, he strode over to me and yanked me up by the arm, his grip like iron.
"You too stand up, slut," he barked at Ananya, his voice sharp and commanding. She moved slowly, climbing off the bed without protest, her head lowered as though avoiding his gaze.
He turned back to me, his face hard and unyielding. "Your turn, bitch boy," he said sharply, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. Do you know what a three way 69 is?" he asked. I shook my head. I did not know what it meant. "Lie down with your head at the foot of the bed." His voice was firm, leaving no room for any protest, and the authority in his tone made me shiver as I slowly obeyed. His commands felt heavy in the air, each one echoing in my ears, reminding me of how little power I had left.
As I lay there, a sense of dread filled my chest, cold and heavy. I couldn't stop wondering what Anand would do next, the uncertainty gnawing at me. Just then, I caught Ananya's gaze. Her eyes were unnaturally calm, holding mine in a steady, almost unsettling stare.
Her eyes held a mix of emotions—love, fear, desperation—all swirling together in a silent storm that seemed to pull me in. This strange calmness in her gaze brought a small relief to my panic.
Lying flat on my back at the foot of the bed, I was transformed into an involuntary platform for Anand's domination. He lifted Ananya and positioned her in a modified doggy style directly on top of my body. Her stomach pressed against mine, and her face, a picture of confusion and dread, was turned outward. Horrifyingly, her gaze was inadvertently directed towards my tiny lulli. Wait, did I just start referring to my penis as lulli?
The intimate details of her pussy were painfully clear from this angle—her tight pink petals vividly exposed. I smelt their musky aroma. Her pussy smelt a mix of her and Anand’s scent. In this position, every inch of her was agonizingly visible to me. Anand stood beside the bed, towering over us both. He maintained his balance while controlling the motion with precise dominance, his massive length in hand as he prepared to re-enter Ananya. The bed creaked under the shift of his weight as he leaned forward, his movements orchestrated with clinical precision.
He moved forward and his 8 inch long monster came into view. He crawled closer and put his knees on either side of my head. He was aiming his cock straight at Ananya’s pussy. His size never failed to amaze me. I moved out of the way making way for his invader. He skillfully rubbed his cock all over Ananya’s pussy gathering up all the wetness. He rubbed his cock up and down her slit brushing against her clit. Anand placed the tip of his cock at her entrance and pushed slightly. Ananya's outer lips puffed and stretched. As he pushed further, they spread wider exposing her engorged clitoris. Her pussy was visibly stretched but Anand had still not entered her. With the tip of his cock locked in place, Anand reached around and started skilfully rubbing her clit. Her pussy contracted squeezing the tip and immediately relaxed. Anand pushed forward and her pussy closed around his head. Anand moved his hand away and held her in place by her hips. He waited and let her get used to his size again. Her lips were still stretched, and her clit was clearly visible.
As he thrust forward, the mangalsutra tied grotesquely around his engorged cock swung ominously. The black beads, symbols of our sacred marriage vows, tapped rhythmically against Ananya's skin with each powerful thrust. This perverse display turned the sacred necklace into a chilling reminder of the vows it once honored, now twisted into a tool of humiliation.
Each movement from Anand caused Ananya's body to shift slightly on top of me, the pressure fluctuating with the rhythm of his thrusts. The situation trapped me both physically and emotionally under the weight of their union. The degradation symbolized by the mangalsutra, combined with Anand's physical dominance, was as clear in its execution as it was devastating in its implications.
Anand started with small slow strokes. Pulling out and stuffing in a little more of his cock on each stroke. Just like before Ananya's pussy lips would stretch out clinging to his cock when he withdrew. . My erection was swinging back and forth as Anand's strokes started shaking the bed. When he was halfway in, Ananya started to have an orgasm. Anand was on an out stroke, and he stopped. I could clearly see the twitching of her stretched lips squeezing and relaxing as if trying to pull his cock back in. Her muscles continued to twitch for another 30 seconds as she let out a long moan "Aaaaaaagggghhhhhhhhh". She was so close to my penis that I felt the vibrations of her moan run down its length and into my balls.
Anand patiently waited for her to finish cumming before starting again. Just his size and stamina would be enough for any woman, but his skill was amazing. He varied his strokes. Faster-slower, deeper-shallower. Sometimes he would just rotate his hips in a circular motion. As he went deeper, I could see Ananya's lower belly bulge every time he pushed in. It was clearly visible how far he was going..
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