Adultery Vicious Veer Prathap Singh vs Wily Watchman Narsingh (Upd Dec 21)

[opendoor]

-14-





After watching the frustrated yet seductive Jyothi madam in cctv monitor all night, Narsingh is unable to control his urge to release his truckload of cum on some pussy, otherwise he may go mad. From guest house cabin he took bigger strides to his hut which is not far away from the guest house. As soon as he reached his hut, he yelled “Lakshmi, where are you?”

Hearing no response he started searching for her behind her hut where their “bathroom” lies. He again shouted for Lakshmi.. this time he heard his daughter voice from the open bathroom “papa.. mummy went out side to get us some milk”



Narsingh heard the sound of water and understood Vennela is taking bath. He was about to open the door to see his naked daughter before he heard his wife Lakshmi’s voice from behind.

“Narsingh, what happened you didn’t come home at all.. you were in the guest house all night”

Narsingh doesn’t have patience to explain all that has happened in the guest house. He turned back and dragged Lakshmi forcefully into the hut and yelled “you cant sleep even one night without me ?”

Seeing into the red eyes of her aged husband, Lakshmi realized Narsingh is in completely frustrated mood.. she knows he goes through this phase whenever some beautiful lady guests arrive in the guest house.. until they fall for her, he would take care of his frustration on her.. the moment he starts enjoying the lady guests, he would completely forget his wife..

So Lakshmi is already prepared for the onslaught which is going to last atleast one hour and he wont mind if their daughter is in the hut and she is watching.. he would be more aggressive in front of Vennela who is happy for her aged father to keep her mother happy


 

Lakshmi also enjoys this extreme forced sex from her husband which happens only when he is in such frustrated mood. But only till a limit, sometimes he crosses that limit and that’s when it becomes unbearable to her even though she likes it rough and harsh sometimes

“There’s a stick in the corner,” she says, her voice calm and measured. And then, after a beat, she says, “Malik.” She knows this delay in calling him by his honorific will cost her, probably in terms of a flogging of her ass.

Narsingh stalks to the end of the room table and picks up the long plastic stick.

She watches as Narsingh pulls it out and hefts it in his hand, slaps it against his palm. She hears the meaty thwack as the plastic strikes flesh.

Lakshmi is prone, on her knees and head, her arms behind her back. Her ass is up in the air, the highest part of her body. Her knees are spread, and she is intensely aware that both her holes are probably exposed to his view should he choose to look. This is the same ritual every time this kind of treatment is meted out to her, that’s why she is already naked

Her position has been so prescribed by her tormentor, not of her choosing. Her neck is twisted and her face is turned toward him and she watches his every move, knowing what is coming next. And she also knows she deserves it.

She wonders if she did it knowingly.

When she walked in, Narsingh had motioned her to come crawling to him.

Just by simple motions of his hands and fingers, he had commanded her to get on all fours and crawl toward him on her hands and knees. Later when she thinks about it, she is amazed at how easy it has become for him to control her. She relives those minutes before she is stuck in this predicament, ass up in the air, telling him about the plastic stick in the corner.

His shorts are already unbuttoned, fly open. He has been waiting. She has no idea how long. He isn’t hard yet, but even semi soft, he looks impressive.



She licks, then sucks him hard. There is more steel in his erection today, Lakshmi senses. She can already guess that today there will be no trouble getting it up more than once, and a part of her welcomes it.

Narsingh rises and shucks his shorts. He is naked from the waist down and his cock is a frightening baton of hardness and menace. His balls hang low and dark and heavy even in that cold room.

She crawls between his splayed legs under his watchful eye and begins. As she begins her ministrations, he sighs, the comfortable sigh of a man getting a little relaxation  at the end of a stressful night. Today, he isn’t as dirty or sweaty or disgusting as the other days.  

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Soon he is hard, the single eyed monster bobbing in front of her face, now tapping her nose, now her mouth. Precum seeps slowly from the pee slit, clear and viscous, and she wonders if it would be okay to lick it without explicit instruction. She awaits further orders, her tongue out, waiting to start fellating him again if that is his preference.

His penis is engorged, has become purple, with thick veins engorged along its surface. It bobs gently in front of her face with his every heartbeat. It seems impossibly large, hard and menacing. She can hardly believe it was in her mouth, can’t believe she was able to take most of it in.

“Hmm,” he says,” pleased with his erection, glistening in the overheads with her thickly coated saliva, “get ready.”

Then, with no more warning, he grabs the back of her head and forces himself into her throat. He is big and long enough that the head of his dick can just about get into her throat and suddenly she is breathless, her nose pressed into the thicket of hair at his groin.

She can’t breathe and the air she has last taken in isn’t adequate. Air hunger sets in within seconds.

Soon, her diaphragm begins to spasm, her body begins to shake uncontrollably and still he holds her down. She flails her hands at him, but she has no strength. Her legs drum a tattoo on the carpeted floor, her heels fly off, but still he holds on.

It seems he is superhuman.

Her eyes are wide and all she can see is the thicket of hair in his groin and his lower abdomen. Blackness starts to creep into the ends of her visual field. She is getting light headed.

Black spots start dancing in front of her eyes. Her hands are curled into fists and she is vaguely aware she is pounding on something. Her body goes stiff, her torso jack knifing, and still he holds her down.

When her diaphragm is spasming almost continuously, by her count, at least a couple of minutes, he pulls her head off his dick. It takes a little effort. His dick makes an audible pop as it comes out of her gullet, like a champagne cork being popped.

She falls back and scuttles back to the wall.

She draws in great whoops of air, ragged sounds emerge from her throat she can hardly credit as her own voice. Weakly, on her butt, she leans against the wall just under the windows and struggles to regain her breath.

She knows her face is a mess. She can feel her mascara running and tears and snot and saliva everywhere.  

Her glasses are almost off, smeared and useless. She takes them off and tosses them away, and immediately her vision is blurry. Everything is now smeared in a soft haze, details gone. But she can sense the sharpening of her other senses. Her hearing, smell, even her thinking seem clearer.

The last time he had face fucked her, used her head like some masturbatory sleeve, she had felt only a shadow of the panic, the loss of air, the feeling of impending suffocation and doom.

Today it was much worse.

Time she took charge and put a stop to this nonsense. It is all very well to have fun and games, but there is a limit. Narsingh needs to know where hers are.

When she can breathe without trouble and her chest stops heaving, anger replaces her earlier panic.

“What the fuck!” She screams at Narsingh when she finally focuses on him. He is still sitting, grinning like a maniac, on the chair.

“How was it?” He says, his voice high and piercing, laughing like a hyena. Evidently, he is getting a big kick out of all this.

He scoots forward on his chair, grinning like an idiot and reaches for her breasts, grabbing the nipples and tweaking them, pulling them, jiggling the generous tit-meat.

She feels the discomfort, but ignores it.  She also knows that her position is significantly weakened by the fact that she is naked, on the floor and getting her tits played with like she is some kind of toy.

A part of her mind replies, yes, you are a toy. A fuck toy, a sex doll. He is going to do whatever he wants with you.

She silences her inner voice and turns to him, shaking her tits free of his hands. His fingers fall away and he lets them fall to his sides.

“What the fuck, Narsingh?” She says again, letting her anger out. Her tone is sharp, cutting. She was a tough lady after all.

Narsingh looks at her with what looks like genuine puzzlement on his face, but there is no fear or contrition. Or even any trace of apology.

He mouths his name, “Narsingh?”

She continues to scream at him, and then his face changes from benign puzzlement to something different entirely. The change in his face is sudden and breath taking.

He gets up from the chair and advances toward her, his face dark, menace in his every gesture, and Lakshmi feels sudden fear turn her insides to water.

What has she gotten herself into? This  space has just transformed into the jungle when only the strong and predatory prevail. A deer cannot think itself to be a predator if there is a lion in the jungle.

He grabs her by the throat with his left hand and pulls her partially up. Not choking her, not yet, but the pressure is there.

She is on her knees, and suddenly her breathing is faster. Her heart is thundering in her chest. He probably doesn’t need to slap her, but he does. Twice. Forehand and backhand. Perhaps to drive the point home.

His face is inches from hers and she can smell his paan masala and bidi breath. Then, very deliberately, he speaks, not shouting, not whispering, just a normal voice. For a moment she wonders if he is a psychopath. Perhaps he is.

“You are a whore,” he says. “I own your whore ass, and you will do as I say. You will not complain. All I want to hear from you is, yes Malik. Do. You. Understand?”

His voice is measured, but there is no mistaking the menace in every syllable.

She stays shocked, her head at an angle, looking wide eyed into his angry visage. Then, all she can do is nod. She is in a full posture of defence, body folded as much as it can be, knees drawn up, arms covering her soft middle.

Mutely, she nods, a limited range of motion that is afforded by the tight grip he has on her throat.

He slaps her again and commands her to open her mouth. Again, she mutely obeys. The  room opens and she sees their daughter Vennela come in from the corner of her eye. She came in towel from the bathroom. Somehow Lakshmi is relieved she has not been around to see her latest humiliation.

Narsingh briefly turns to acknowledge Vennela and turns back to Lakshmi.

Vennela looks at her mom sitting with her mouth open and straightens, putting her father’s rampant cock at the same level as her mouth.

Without thinking, Lakshmi takes it in. She has come a long way in her slutdom. She isn’t a whore like Narsingh calls her in anger, really a slut, but she isn’t going to argue with him about those nuances. She will, likely than not, get a beating. She pauses a moment and thinks about the terminology. He calls her a randi, but perhaps there is no such nuance in the Hindi language.

Not that she knows of anyway. She shrugs and returns to her task.

His cock has softened slightly in the few minutes but not by much and within seconds, under her ministrations, it regains its former hardness and size.

Narsingh pushes her with his hips until she has scooted back and is with her back to the wall. There is nowhere to go.

Narsingh pushes in with force and once more her throat is invaded and full. She cannot even draw breath through her nose because her airway is blocked by his turgid piece of meat. Her eyes start watering and this time she is sure he means to kill her.

In her position, she cannot effectively use her arms of legs and Narsingh is so big and strong.  

Narsingh relents and pulls out, allowing her to breathe.

When she can see again, Vennela is standing right behind Narsingh and Lakshmi thinks maybe he had something to do with him easing up. She doesn’t know, but she sees concern in Vennela’s eyes.

Unfortunately there is very little Vennela can do to help her mom in this situation, in fact she is gripped by her own fear of such harsh punishment if she cant make friendship with the ladies in the guesthouse and somehow mend their mind to get a soft corner on her father. So she is in a hurry to get dressed and leave to guest house



Narsingh is manipulating Lakshmi and she obeys like a doll. He arranges her on all fours and then pulls one arm behind her, then another. She balances on her knees, her head down. It isn’t a comfortable position, but neither is it uncomfortable.

She feels his hand reach down and she lowers her body so he can reach whatever he wants without trouble. His fingers touch her pussy. They are rough and probably filthy, but she doesn’t care. Suddenly, all she wants is his hand there, his fingers inside her, preparing her for his monster of a cock.

His fingers slip inside with no trouble at all. How has she become so lubricated with all this brutal sex play? Is she a junkie for this kind of treatment? This kind of adrenaline rush?

She has hardly any time for thought when he hoists her ass up with a finger crooked in her pussy, then pinches her clit, and she has a small spasm that ripples down her legs and into her belly. She shakes with desire.

She hears Narsingh spit, and then his fingers at her asshole.

“No!” She screams, sudden panic seizing her. “Not there!”


And even though  she thought it was going to be fine, and she would do it if that was what he wanted, his merest touch has sent her into a panic. There is something primitive and earthy and absolute about a man taking a woman anally, not to mention depraved, and she isn’t sure she wants to sink that deep. And she is afraid of the pain too.

“Not there, please, please,” she begs, turning her head toward him, trying to get him in her peripheral vision. She sees Vennela start to move toward them, perhaps to stop Narsingh and she is grateful. At least a part of her is.

“You never learn, do you?” Narsingh says in a sad voice from behind her.

She hears s rustling sound and then she feels her wrists being restrained behind her. Zip ties. She hears the unmistakable rasp of the teeth of the zip tie tightening and now she can’t move her hands. Yes, they were behind her before, but she could have brought them around anytime. Not any more.

“I will have to punish you now,” Narsingh continues, and pushes her head down. His voice is still sad as though he is unhappy about this turn of events but there is nothing he can do.



She has brought it upon herself. “And then I will fuck your ass anyway. What was the point of yelling and screaming, huh? You know what you are, and you know what I am going to do. Why resist?”

He sounds genuinely surprised and unhappy that she is such a recalcitrant whore, denying him the simplest of things. She should know better.

Lakshmi feels a great calm settle on her. A punishment is inevitable. And then her ass will be violated whether by her consent or otherwise.

She twists her head to one side. “There is a plastic stick in the corner,” she says.

He makes her count the strokes.

They aren’t strokes so much as blows, and they hurt like the fucking devil. The plastic ruler is pliable and hard at the same time, and it whistles through the air and makes solid contact with her ass each time he swings it.


“AAAAHOOOO!”

He is making a good effort, not just the wrist, but the entire arm, like the dhobis at the ghats, or a professional wrestler pulling an opponent over his shoulder.

“AIIIIIIOOOOOO!”

On the fourth stroke, the ruler breaks. Shatters, in fact. There is a loud crack that follows the sound of hard plastic hitting flesh, her yelp and then the crack. It is possible the crack came simultaneously with her yelp of, “AOOOOOO!” But it was hard to tell for sure.

Lakshmi sees Narsingh standing there with the stump of the ruler in his hand, looking at it in disbelief. She wonders if he is going to use his hands like last time. His hands had hurt, she remembers.

“There’s some stuff in the back of the hut.” It is Vennela.  

Narsingh and Vennela disappear for a few minutes, while Lakshmi lies on the  floor, ass in the air. She imagines the welts and redness on her butt  

The cool  air on her exposed ass is a little comforting, but the contrasting heat from the ass whipping makes her feel simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused. She can feel her cunt juice trickling down her thighs even though she cannot see it from her position. She shifts the position of her head to see if Narsingh or Vennela are visible.

All kinds of things are in there, boxes and small gadgets.  But what catches her interest is what Narsingh has in his hand. It is a short length of something flexible, about two feet or maybe a little more, and he is flexing it, hefting it, slapping it on his palm.

The two are talking, but they are too far away for her to hear. There is some kind of argument, and she sees Vennela shaking her head and Narsingh raising a hand, trying to convince her. She wonders what it is all about. They then turn to her and catch her watching them.

Narsingh raises his voice and says, “One way to find out,” and starts walking toward her.  

Narsingh is closer now, and she can see what he has in his hand is a short length of co-axial cable. Like the kind one uses for a cable TV box. It is perhaps a quarter inch in diameter, and she can hear the swishing sound it makes as Narsingh whips it through the air. She feels dread in her intestines, and wonders how it will feel on her ass.

The first blow catches her by surprise, and she almost doesn’t make a sound. First there is the hiss of the cable through the air, then a sharp crack as it connects with her skin. White-hot pain lances though her butt and down her thigh and before she can make a sound, there is a second blow.

This time, she puts her lungs into it. “AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIMAAAA!!”

There is a lull. She cranes her neck to see what is going on, but it is hard since Narsingh is too close to her and the angle isn’t right. She imagines Vennela trying to restrain Narsingh, but then a third blow lands, then a fourth. She screams as loud as she can.

“OIIIIIIMAAAAA!”

Then she feels a presence by her head and through her watering eyes she senses it is Vennela. There is no cigarette or paan masala odor either.

“Are you okay, mom?” Her voice is full of concern. “Papa is saying you enjoy this, but I’m not so sure.”

Lakshmi says nothing, her breath is caught in her throat.

“Just ask her to nod,” Narsingh says from behind her. “She’s a whore, she wants it. Then she will want me to fuck her in the ass. Ask, and she will say yes. That’s the kind of whore she is. She likes it, a little rough and hot.”

His voice is confident, knowing, and for a second Lakshmi wonders if he knows her better that she knows herself.

And then Venneal is back in her field of vision, saying, “Mom, nod if you want this to continue…”

And despite every nerve shrieking at her, no, no, no, Lakshmi nods as best as she can.

“Can you do something about the noise?” Narsingh says. “Her wailing is very distracting…and disturbing.”

Something stirs again in Lakshmi’s field of vision, and she is roughly jerked up on her knees from her bent over, ass-offering position. Her arms are still zip tied behind her, not painful yet, but not loose and comfortable either. Just enough to remind her of her subservient position.

Narsingh gives her a light tap on her exposed butt, just a mild reminder that he is in charge and that nothing has changed in her position in the pecking order, which is at the bottom.  

Narsingh chuckles as he hauls her to her knees. She could have done it herself, rising to her knees even with her hands tied behind her back, but it would have taken effort. She would have been grateful for his help, except that he does it by roughly grabbing her by the base of the ponytail and pulling her up.

Narsingh understands the next part with greater ease.

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The blindfold. Even though he isn’t too sure about it, he goes along with it. He’d rather her see what he is going to do to her, he says to Vennela, but the surprise might be good too.

Lakshmi feels the heel of his boot push her between the shoulder blades, at least she thinks it is his boot, and she goes down to her ass up, head down position again, waiting to see what will happen next.

Her large breasts hang down toward her face, sliding over her upper chest. Her nipples are large, and they scbang the carpet. The tingle that contact sends through her makes her shiver.

She knows though that he is going to attack her ass, and there is nothing she can do about it, and even her screams will be attenuated through more harsh punishment

(.) (.)

Meanwhile Veer who slept between the tow beautiful angels after fucking hard his wife in the living room downstairs, is feeling uneasy whenever either of the girls accidentally touch his manhood in sleep.. and same thing when he accidentally places his hands on their semi nude bodies at inappropriate parts

Some how he got some sleep but even in the dreams, his daughter Sheethal is teasing him after taking bath and slipping her tower to expose her marvelous young body which he night have seen in many of the foreign models he enjoyed with but the naughty smile and the evil intentions of tempting a near 50 year old man are some of the traits that he failed to see in the paid pleasure








When this is not enough, he is chased by another wild dream where he got blow job from both the girls willingly and in fact fighting each other to get more meat !!!