Lusty Feminist Wife: Mishti ki masti (Scene 9)

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9: The Price of a Wife

I was destroyed. Shattered. Seeing what was going on right in front of my eyes my own wife being treated like a piece of meat on the very sofa we bought together was way beyond my expectations.

My brain simply couldn't process the humiliation. The heavy weight of gym guy's boot on my back, the suffocating taste of the dirty handkerchief in my mouth, the wet, slapping sounds of those older men... it was too much. My body went into a severe shock. My breathing became shallow. The bright lights of the living room started to flicker in my vision, and things became blurry. The sounds faded into a high pitched ringing in my ears, and then, mercifully, darkness took over. I lost consciousness.

I don't know how long I was out. It felt like a lifetime, but it could have only been a few minutes.

I opened my eyes slowly, my vision swimming. My ribs throbbed with a sharp pain where the gym guy had kicked me. I was still on the floor, my cheek pressed against the carpet.

The heavy breathing and grunting had stopped. The room was quieter now.

I blinked away the blurriness and looked up. The two older men were standing near the dining table, buttoning up their expensive linen shirts and buckling their belts. They looked exhausted but highly satisfied.

And then I saw it. The ultimate betrayal.

One of the older men reached into his leather bag and pulled out a thick bundle of five-hundred rupee notes. He walked over to Yash and casually handed the cash to him. Yash counted it quickly, his thumb flicking over the edges, and smirked, nodding at the man.

My heart turned into a block of ice. Yash... that madarchod was pimping my wife in my own home. He wasn't just a lover. He was a pimp. He had turned my house into a high class brothel. And Mishti wasn't just having an affair; she enjoyed being a bitch. The sheer disrespect, the absolute filth of the situation burned through my veins.

He is going down, I promised myself silently, tasting my own blood inside my cheek. That madarchod is going down. Along with his friend. I will kill them all.

The two older men picked up their car keys. "Good stuff, Yash," the smoking guy said, not even looking at me on the floor. They walked to the main door, opened it, and left, the heavy wooden door shutting with a loud click.

I turned my head slightly. Mishti was sitting on the edge of the sofa, her hair a wild mess, her body covered in sweat. She was breathing heavily. Yash walked over to her, folding the thick wad of cash and stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

He leaned down and kissed my wife fully on the lips. She kissed him back eagerly.

"How was it?" Yash asked, wiping a smudge of ruined makeup from her cheek. "Did you like it?"

Mishti smiled, leaning into his touch. "Oh yea, that was good," she replied, her voice husky and completely shameless.

Yash smirked, looking at her naked body. "Would you like them to come again?"

"Yes, both of them," she replied instantly, without a second of hesitation.

She stood up from the messy sofa, unbothered by her nakedness in front of the three of us, and picked up a silk robe that was thrown on the chair. She wrapped it around herself and tied the knot at her waist.

Then, she finally looked at me.

She walked towards me, her bare feet padding softly on the carpet. She knelt down beside me. The gym guy moved his heavy boot off my back.

Mishti reached behind my head and gently untied the knot. She removed the dirty handkerchief from my mouth. I gasped, coughing loudly as fresh air hit my dry throat.

Mishti stood up and turned to the gym guy, her face suddenly twisting into an angry frown.

"Sangram," she scolded him sharply, putting her hands on her hips. "He told me he will adjust. This was not needed. Why did you hit him?"

"He was trying to be a hero in the kitchen, Mishti," Sangram grunted, crossing his massive arms. "I was just teaching him some manners."

"I will handle my husband," Mishti snapped back, acting like a protective owner rather than a loving wife. "Don't touch him again in my house. It ruins the mood."

She bent down again and put her arms under my armpits. "Come on, Shona. Get up," she whispered softly, her tone completely changing. She grunted with effort as she picked me up. My body felt like lead. Every muscle ached, and my pride was completely shattered.

I leaned on her shoulder as she supported my weight. We walked slowly towards the bedroom. I didn't look at Yash or Sangram. I just kept my eyes on the floor, playing the part of a broken, defeated dog perfectly.

As soon as we crossed the threshold of the bedroom, I heard the main door of the flat open and close again. Yash and Sangram had left. We were finally alone.

Mishti guided me to the edge of our bed and made me sit down. The bed we used to share.

"Are you okay, Babu?" she asked, brushing the dust off my shirt with her hand. She poured a glass of water from the side table and held it to my lips. "Drink this."

I took a small sip, my hands shaking. I looked into her big, expressive eyes. There was no guilt. She was completely detached from the trauma she had just put me through. She genuinely thought that because I agreed to "adjust," she could do this to me and everything would be fine the next minute.

"You see, Shubhankar?" she said softly, sitting next to me and resting her head on my shoulder. She smelled of foreign sweat, sex, and expensive perfume. "It wasn't so bad, right? You stayed quiet. I had my fun. They paid well. We are a modern couple now."

I sat there, staring at the blank wall of the bedroom. The woman I loved was dead. This creature sitting next to me was a stranger, a commodity owned by a syndicate.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice hollow and dead. "We are modern now."

Keep talking, Mishti, I thought, the cold fire of revenge settling deep into my bones. Keep thinking I am weak but I will get my revenge.