PIOUS WIFE FATIMA

[Lordsnow]

The plug sat heavy inside her.

Every step Fatima took made it shift and press against places that had never been touched before. The black lace between her thighs was soaked through, clinging to her cunt and the base of the plug. Her bare breasts hung out of the pulled-down bra, still sticky with spit, nipples tight and dark. The warm air of the room carried the smell of her own wetness mixed with cologne and smoke. Sameer stood against the wall holding the folded abaya and the veil, silent.

*This is what I wanted*, she thought, the words rising unbidden even as shame burned under her skin. *Five days of nothing and now this. I should hate it. Why does it feel so—*

Rakesh dealt another hand. The thick-shouldered man won. He leaned back, eyes moving over her exposed body.

“Come here. On your knees between my legs.”

Fatima set the tray down. Her legs felt unsteady. The plug moved with every step, a constant reminder that she was already open in a way she had never been. She knelt. The position pushed the plug deeper and drew a soft, involuntary sound from her throat. He opened his trousers and pulled out a thick, dark cock, already hard and heavy. The musky smell of him filled her nose.

“Open.”

She opened her mouth. He pushed in slowly at first, then deeper, until the head pressed against the back of her throat. She gagged, eyes watering. He held her there, one rough hand twisted in her hair, the other reaching down to grip the base of the plug through the wet lace and give it a slow twist. The dual sensation — cock stretching her mouth, plug shifting inside her ass — sent a sharp, confusing wave through her body. Her cunt clenched hard around nothing, leaking more.




*I should bite. I should pull away. Instead I’m letting him… I’m getting wetter.*

He began fucking her mouth in short, steady strokes. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her bare breasts. One of the other men moved behind her, reached under, and rubbed the soaked lace firmly against her clit while the plug stayed buried. Fatima’s hips jerked forward against his hand before she could stop them. A muffled, needy sound vibrated around the cock in her mouth.

The thick-shouldered man pulled out, a thick string of spit still connecting her lips to his cock.

“Up. Over the table. Ass out.”

She rose on shaky legs and bent over the low table again, hands flat. The position opened her body completely. Only one of the men — the leaner one who had touched her earlier — stepped close to her side. He lifted her left arm higher, exposed the soft dark hollow of her armpit, and dragged his tongue through it slowly, tasting the salt and heat of her skin. He did it again, deeper, breathing her in. Fatima shuddered hard, a helpless sound escaping her.

*Why does that feel so filthy… and why is it making me drip more?*

Rakesh moved behind her. He hooked the lace panties further aside, gripped the base of the plug, and began working it in short, twisting thrusts. Each movement forced a wet, obscene sound from her body. Her cunt dripped openly onto the floor between her stockinged feet.

“Still tight,” Rakesh muttered, voice calm but edged. “But she’s taking it. Listen to how wet she is.” He pushed the plug deeper for a moment, then almost pulled it out, then shoved it back in. Fatima’s forehead dropped against the table. A broken moan spilled out of her before she could swallow it.

*It burns… it fills me… I can’t stop clenching around it. I cancelled the first night and now I’m bent over with this thing in me and I still want more.*

One of the men crouched in front of her, grabbed both of her bare breasts roughly, and squeezed them together. He spat between them and pushed his cock into the slick channel, fucking her tits while Rakesh kept working the plug. The dual rhythm — cock sliding between her spit-slick breasts, plug thrusting in her ass — made her thighs tremble.




“Look up,” the man ordered, voice rough. “I want to see that face while we use you. Don’t hide it.”

Fatima lifted her head. Her eyes were glassy, mouth wet and open, hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Shame and heat warred behind her expression. The man grinned and thrust harder between her tits, the head of his cock tapping her chin with every stroke.

The thick-shouldered man moved to her head again, fed his cock back into her mouth, and held her there while the others continued. Spit, the heavy smell of her cunt, the wet sounds of the plug, the slap of skin against her breasts — the room filled with it. Sameer stood silent against the wall, the abaya and veil still in his hands, watching every detail.

*He’s watching me like this. All of them are. And my body is still pushing back for more.*

Rakesh finally pulled the plug out slowly. The sudden emptiness made Fatima whimper, a soft, lost sound. He set the shiny, wet plug on the table, then pushed two thick fingers into her cunt, feeling how open and soaked she was.

“She’s ready. Who wants her first while the plug goes back in?”

The thick-shouldered man pulled out of her mouth with a wet sound.

“Me.”

He moved behind her, lined up, and drove into her cunt in one long, heavy thrust. The stretch was sudden and deep. Fatima cried out against the table, the sound raw. He fucked her hard and steady, each stroke forcing the air from her lungs. After a dozen thrusts he stopped, reached for the plug again, and pushed it back into her ass while his cock was still buried deep in her cunt.



The double fullness locked her body up. A long, broken moan tore out of her throat. Her arms almost gave out. The man behind her gripped her hips harder and started fucking her again, the plug shifting and pressing with every thrust.

“Feel that?” he growled, leaning over her back, mouth close to her ear, voice thick with satisfaction. “Cock in your cunt, plug in your ass, spit drying on your tits, and your husband standing there holding your holy clothes while you take it like a proper slut. This is what you get for cancelling. This is what you needed all along, isn’t it?”

Fatima could only moan, continuous and helpless, as he used her. Another man stepped in front, lifted her head by the hair, and pushed back into her mouth. She took it, drooling, eyes half-closed, body rocking between them while the plug stayed locked inside her.

*I should hate this.*  
*I should feel ruined.*  
*Instead I’m dripping down my own thighs and pushing back onto him.*

The night was no longer about serving drinks.

It had become exactly what Rakesh had promised — harder, wetter, and without any of the slow mercy of the original plan.