Misc. Erotica My Mistake and My Wife’s Gangbang on Our Honeymoon

[chodn_khanki]

As we settled onto the lush, green lawn of Rajesh Sir's farmhouse, the late morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the open area. The serene atmosphere of Rajesh Sir's farmhouse is a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night. As we settle onto the lush, green lawn, the late morning sun casts a warm, golden glow over the open area. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the soft chirping of birds.

Chaitali, still motionless, is forced onto her hands and knees. Her body, marked with bruises and the fresh brand on her ass, is a testament to the brutal training she has undergone. But it's not just any training - it's a consensual and erotic form of punishment that leaves her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

As we watch, Rajesh Sir approaches Chaitali, his eyes blazing with intensity. He raises his hand, and Chaitali flinches in anticipation of the next blow. But instead of striking her, he gently touches her bruised skin, tracing the shape of the brand on her ass.

Chaitali's body tenses, and she looks up at Rajesh Sir with a mixture of fear and desire. She knows that she has pushed him to his limits, and now she must face the consequences. But as he continues to touch her, she begins to feel a sense of calm wash over her.

The scene is one of raw sensuality, where the boundaries between pleasure and pain are blurred. It's a testament to the consensual nature of their relationship, where both parties are willing to push each other to their limits in pursuit of pleasure.

Rajesh Sir stretched out on the lawn, his legs resting comfortably on Chaitali's back as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture for him to lounge upon. The sight of her, reduced to such a submissive state, sent a surge of dark pleasure through me, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of my wife's tits being manipulated by some other man and that too in front of lowly servants.

Chaitali's breathing was laboured through the nose clip and gag, her body trembling with exhaustion and humiliation. The chain connecting her nipple clamps swayed gently with each movement, was a constant reminder of her submission and helplessness as she lay there, exposed and vulnerable.

Rajesh Sir ran his hands over Chaitali's body, tracing the curves of her tits and the shape of her pussy. He was entirely in control, and it was clear that he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

"Chaitali," Rajesh Sir whispered, his voice dripping with seduction. "You're so beautiful when you're helpless like this. So submissive and obedient."

Rajesh Sir leaned forward, his lips brushing against Chaitali's ear. "You're going to take it all, aren't you?" he whispered. "Every inch of my cock, every drop of my cum. You're going to take it all and beg for more."

Chaitali nodded eagerly, her eyes fixed on Rajesh Sir's face as she waited for his next command.

As we sat there, Rajesh Sir turned to me, his eyes reflecting a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. "Before we begin," he said, his voice calm and composed, "I need to tell you something."

I looked at him, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. "What is it?" I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension.

Rajesh Sir took a deep breath, his gaze steady and unapologetic. "I lied to you about the security officer torture part," he admitted. "When Chaitali was taken from the road, she wasn't handed over to the authorities. Instead, she was given to the three friends who were here at the farmhouse. You saw them right.  They are BDSM trainers, experts in their field. They are highly paid. That's why I have invited them that night."

I felt a surge of anger at his deception, but I also understood his reasoning. "Why did you lie?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion.

Rajesh Sir looked at me, his expression softening slightly. "I needed to ensure that Chaitali received the training she needed without any interference; moreover, the identity of these three trainers needs to be kept secret," he explained. "If I had told you the truth, you might have tried to intervene, to stop the process. Involving the plice would have complicated things and prevented me from ensuring her complete submission."

I listened intently, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. "And the part about her being paraded nude in public?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Rajesh Sir shook his head. "That was a lie, too," he admitted. "I wanted to scare you, to make sure you wouldn't leave the farmhouse. If you had known that she was being publicly shamed, you might not have gone to the plice station to claim her. And in that case, you would have been ashamed as well."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, knowing that Chaitali had not been subjected to the ultimate humiliation of being paraded nude in public. However, I was also angry at Rajesh Sir for his deception and the fear and anxiety he had caused me.

"But there is some good news," Rajesh Sir continued, his voice taking on a more positive tone. "We have recorded all the sessions with Chaitali. Today, we will watch all the videos together."

I nodded, my mind filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. I knew that watching the videos would be difficult, that it would bring back memories of the brutal treatment Chaitali had endured. But I also knew that it was necessary, that it was a part of her journey to becoming the perfect submissive.

As the sun began to rise, casting a warm, golden glow over the lawn, we prepared to head inside. The servants helped Rajesh Sir to his feet, and I followed closely behind. Chaitali, still on her hands and knees, was led inside by the servants.

As we made our way into the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. The servants set up the screen and the projector, and we settled down to watch the videos. The first video began to play, showing Chaitali being hanged from her hands.

As we settled into the dimly lit room, the screen flickered to life, casting a cold, eerie glow over our faces. The video began to play, showing Chaitali suspended from the ceiling by her hands, her body dangling helplessly in the air. Her feet barely touched the ground, and her arms were stretched taut, the strain evident in her trembling muscles. The nose clip and gag were still in place, making her look like a helpless animal, her breathing laboured and desperate.

Three masked figures entered the frame, their identities hidden behind sinister, expressionless masks. Each of them carried various instruments of torture, their intentions clear. The room was filled with an air of anticipation, the atmosphere heavy with the promise of pain and humiliation.

The first masked figure approached Chaitali, holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "Time for your medicine, you filthy little pig," he said, his voice a dark growl that sent a shiver down my spine. Chaitali's eyes widened with fear, but she was helpless to resist. The needle pierced her skin, and the liquid was injected into her vein. Almost immediately, her body began to relax, her struggles becoming weaker and more uncoordinated. The Rohypnol was taking effect, making her compliant and submissive.

The second masked figure stepped forward, holding a hot iron rod. The tip of the rod glowed red-hot, and the heat radiated off it in waves. "You're going to feel this, you filthy little slut," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. He brought the rod down on Chaitali's back, the sizzle of her flesh filling the air. Chaitali screamed, her body convulsing with pain, but the drugs made her unable to resist. The masked figure continued to beat her with the hot iron rod, leaving angry, red welts on her skin.

The third masked figure approached her, holding a paddle. "Time for a little pussy spanking, you filthy little whore," he said, his voice a dark whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. He brought the paddle down on Chaitali's pussy, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. Chaitali screamed, her body convulsing with pain and humiliation. The masked figure continued to spank her pussy, the brutal strokes making her skin red and inflamed.

The first masked figure stepped forward again, this time holding a whip. "You're going to be punished, you filthy little pig," he said, his voice a dark growl that sent a shiver down my spine. He brought the whip down on Chaitali's back, the sound of the lash echoing through the room. Chaitali screamed, her body convulsing with pain, but the drugs made her unable to resist. The masked figure continued to whip her, the brutal strokes leaving angry, red welts on her skin.

The second masked figure approached her, holding a paddle. "Time for a little slapping, you filthy little slut," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. He brought the paddle down on Chaitali's face, the sound of the impact echoing through the room. Chaitali's head snapped to the side, her body convulsing with pain. The masked figure continued to slap her, the brutal strokes making her face red and inflamed.

The third masked figure stepped forward, holding a bucket of filthy crap. "Time for some facial abuse, you disgusting little cunt," he said, his voice a dark whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. He poured the contents of the bucket over Chaitali's face, the filth covering her skin and dripping into her mouth. Chaitali gagged and retched, her body convulsing with disgust and humiliation. The masked figure continued to pour the filth over her, the cruel treatment making her look like a helpless animal.

As the video continued, the masked figures left Chaitali hanging from the ceiling, her body covered in filth and trembling with exhaustion and humiliation. The camera angle shifted, showing a clock on the wall. The hands of the clock moved rapidly, indicating that time was being fast-forwarded. Six hours passed in what seemed like mere minutes, the video capturing the slow, agonising passage of time for Chaitali.

When the video returned to normal speed, Chaitali was still hanging from the ceiling, her body covered in filth and her spirit seemingly broken. The three masked figures returned, carrying water hoses and scrubbers. They began to spray her down, the cold water washing away the filth and leaving her skin clean but red and inflamed.

Once she was cleaned, the masked figures removed the gag from her mouth. Chaitali's lips were dry and cracked, and she gasped for air, her breathing ragged and uneven. But almost immediately, she began to beg, her voice a desperate whimper. "Please, fuck me," she pleaded, her eyes wide with need. "Fuck my pussy and my asshole. I need it so bad. Please, I'm your filthy little whore. Let me cum, please!"

The masked figures laughed. The first masked figure approached her, his cock hard and ready. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips firmly. "You want it, you filthy little slut?" he growled, his voice a dark whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "You want my cock in your pussy and your asshole?"

"Yes, please," Chaitali moaned, her body trembling with need. "Please, I need it so bad. I need you to fuck me, to make me yours. Please, I'm your dirty little whore."

The first masked figure entered her pussy with brutal force, his cock pistoning in and out of her with a relentless rhythm. Chaitali cried out, her body convulsing with pleasure and pain. The other masked figures gathered around her, their hands rough and unyielding as they touched and groped her.

As the first masked figure fucked her pussy, the second masked figure positioned himself at her ass, his cock hard and ready. He entered her with one swift thrust, filling her up and making her his. Chaitali screamed, her body convulsing with pleasure as she was double-penetrated.

The masked figures took turns fucking her pussy and ass, their brutal strokes making her body convulse with pleasure. Chaitali's screams of ecstasy filled the room, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. She was theirs, completely and utterly, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

As the video continued, the masked figures used Chaitali in every way imaginable. They fucked her pussy and ass, their cocks pistoning in and out of her with a relentless rhythm. They made her suck their cocks, her mouth a playground for their darkest desires. They used toys on her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her body. They spanked her, whipped her, and caned her, her skin marked with the evidence of their brutal treatment.

When the video finally ended, Rajesh Sir turned to me, his eyes dark with lust and desire. "She is ours, completely and utterly," he said, his voice a dark whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "And we will make sure she knows it."

I nodded, my body trembling with anticipation. I knew that this was just the beginning, the start of a journey that would leave us all satisfied and spent. And as I looked at Rajesh Sir, his eyes dark with lust and desire, I knew that we would make Chaitali ours, completely and utterly, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

"You see," Rajesh Sir continued, "Chaitali is a slave, a piece of property to be used and abused as we please. And she will do anything for us, because she knows that's what we want."

I nodded in agreement, my cock throbbing with excitement at the thought of Chaitali's helpless little cunt.

"And now," Rajesh Sir said, "it's time for you to take her, to claim your piece of property. You will do whatever it takes to enjoy, to make her completely and utterly yours."

For in that moment, I knew that Chaitali was truly mine, completely and utterly. And I would do whatever it took to keep her that way.