Misc. Erotica The Goddess (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

From that day onward, my husband never again came near the river when the sand trucks were there. The other men of the village also stopped trying to interfere. We were all helpless. Arjun had made his ownership of me clear not only with his hands and his filthy mouth, but with the blood of my husband on the ground. And everyone in the village understood that fighting him would only bring more pain.



Arjun knew exactly what he was doing to my husband.
After the beating, my husband still sometimes walked with me part of the way toward the river before turning back, unable to stay away completely. Arjun noticed this at once. From that day he began waiting until my husband was close enough to see everything clearly. Then he would step forward, grab my wrist with his thick, rough hand, and pull me hard against his bare, stinking body right in front of my husband’s eyes.
The heat and the strong sour smell of his shirtless chest hit me first. My heavy breasts were crushed flat against his dark, sweaty skin. His strong arms locked around my waist and the upper part of my back like iron bands, forcing my lower stomach tightly against the hard, thick shape of his cock that was already pushing out against his black shorts. He held me there without any hurry and slowly began moving his hips in deliberate circles, rubbing that stiff length up and down against me through my saree while my husband stood frozen only a few metres away, forced to watch every movement.
“No… let me go…” I said, pushing at the hard muscles of his bare chest.
“Don’t do this in front of him… please…”
Arjun only tightened his arms and kept rubbing his hard cock against me, the thick shape clearly felt with every slow circle of his hips.
“Look at him watching,” he muttered near my ear, his foul-smelling breath washing over the side of my face.

“Your husband is standing right there and he can’t do a single thing. He already knows the truth. When you walk this path, you belong to me.”
Then he grabbed the back of my head with one rough hand, fingers digging into my hair, and forced my face up toward his.
“Kiss me back,” he ordered, his small eyes locked on mine.
“Properly. If you don’t, I will beat your husband again right here in front of you. Worse than last time. I will break him.”
My blood went cold. I could feel my husband’s eyes on us. The memory of his swollen face and the blood on the ground after the last beating flashed through my mind.
“No… please don’t hurt him…” I begged, my voice breaking.
“Don’t touch him… I’ll do what you want… please leave him alone…”
“Then kiss me,” Arjun said, already pulling my head closer.
“And make it real. Open your mouth and kiss me back. Or I go over there and finish what I started with him.”
Tears filled my eyes. I looked once toward my husband — his fists clenched, his face dark with helpless rage and pain — and then I leaned forward and pressed my lips against Arjun’s thick, foul-smelling mouth.
I kissed him back as he had demanded.

My lips moved against his. The moment I opened my mouth, Arjun’s thick tongue pushed inside, bringing a sudden flood of his warm, sour saliva with it. The taste was bitter and rotten — old tobacco, unclean teeth, and a heavy stale filth that coated my tongue at once. He did not simply kiss me. He fed his spit into my mouth deliberately, pushing more and more of it over my tongue and toward my throat while he held the back of my head so tightly I could not pull away.
I had no choice but to swallow.

The thick, foul liquid went down my throat in several forced gulps. Each time I swallowed, Arjun pushed more saliva into my mouth, as if he wanted every corner of it to taste like him. His tongue licked deep, slow and thorough, spreading the disgusting taste everywhere while he continued to grind his hard cock against my lower stomach through the black shorts and my saree. The smell of his mouth filled my nose and then settled inside my own mouth until every breath I took carried his stink upward from my throat.
“Mmm… that’s it…” he muttered into the kiss, the words vibrating against my lips.
“Swallow it. Let your mouth become like mine.”
I kept kissing him back, tears running down my cheeks, swallowing again and again as he filled me with his filthy saliva. My husband stood only a few metres away, forced to watch me return the kiss and take everything Arjun pushed into my mouth. The shame of it burned hotter than the heat of Arjun’s bare chest against my breasts.
Arjun held the kiss for a long time, clearly enjoying both the wet, submissive response of my mouth and the knowledge that my husband was witnessing it. When he finally broke the kiss, a thick string of his saliva still connected his lower lip to mine before it broke and ran down my chin. My lips were wet and glistening. The inside of my mouth felt coated and heavy with his taste. The foul smell that had always lived in his mouth now lived in mine.
“That’s better,” he said, looking at my wet lips with open satisfaction.
“Now your mouth stinks like mine. Every time you speak, he will remember this.”
He forced one final deep kiss on me, pushing even more of his sour saliva inside, making me swallow once more, before he finally loosened his arms and stepped back. He looked at my disordered saree, my glistening lips, and my flushed, tear-streaked face with complete ownership. Then he glanced at my husband.
“Take her home,” he said coldly.
“Her mouth already belongs to me. Tomorrow she will walk this same path again. And she knows exactly what will happen if she refuses.”
He turned and walked back to his work, the muscles of his bare back shifting under his dark, sweaty skin, leaving me standing there with the thick, filthy taste of his saliva still coating my tongue and throat, the smell of his mouth permanently mixed with my own, and the broken, helpless expression on my husband’s face burned into my eyes.