[chodn_khanki]

As the last rays of the setting sun bathed the lawn in a warm, golden light, Rajesh Sir stood up, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anticipation and desire. Chaitali, already nude and trembling with excitement, stood in the centre of the lawn, her body on display for the pleasure of the assembled guests.


Rajesh Sir's voice cut through the hush of the evening, his words a command that sent a thrill of pleasure through Chaitali's body. "Gentlemen, the entertainment begins," he announced.

The guests, a mix of Rajesh Sir's close friends and three unfamiliar men, leaned forward, their eyes fixed on Chaitali with a hunger that made her skin tingle with anticipation. She could feel the weight of their gazes on her, their desire like a tangible force that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

Rajesh Sir stepped forward, his hands rough as he grabbed Chaitali and pulled her towards him. She moaned softly, her body arching into his touch, her mind a whirl of pleasure and desire. He whispered in her ear, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill of excitement through her body. "Show them what you can do, my little slut," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Chaitali's body moved instinctively, her hands reaching out to touch and explore Rajesh Sir's body. She could feel the heat of his skin, the hardness of his desire pressing against her. She moaned softly, her body responding to his touch, her mind a whirl of pleasure and desire.

As Rajesh Sir stepped back, one of the unfamiliar men stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Chaitali with a hunger that made her skin tingle with anticipation. He was tall and muscular, his body a testament to his strength and power. Chaitali's eyes roamed over his body, her desire growing with each passing second.

The man's hands were rough as he grabbed Chaitali and pulled her towards him. She moaned softly, her body arching into his touch, her mind a whirl of pleasure and desire. She could feel the heat of his skin, the hardness of his desire pressing against her. She reached out, her hands exploring his body, her touch like fire against his skin.

As the night wore on, Chaitali's body was passed from one guest to another, her mind a whirl of pleasure and desire. She could feel the weight of their bodies on hers, their hands rough and demanding as they took what they wanted. She revelled in the attention, her body responding instinctively to their touch, her moans of pleasure filling the night air.

Each man brought a unique touch, a different sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She was lost in a world of sensation, her body a vessel of pure desire. She could taste the salt of their sweat, the bitterness of their desire, and it only served to fuel her arousal.

Rajesh Sir watched with a sense of pride and satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and triumph. He had broken Chaitali, moulded her into the perfect sex slave, and now she was the centre of attention, the object of desire for all the men assembled on his lawn.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, Chaitali's body was spent, her mind a whirl of pleasure and satisfaction. She lay on the soft cushions, her body trembling with the remnants of pleasure, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and desire.

Rajesh Sir stepped forward, his hands gentle as he stroked her hair, his voice a low growl in her ear. "You have pleased me, my little slut," he whispered, his tone a mix of satisfaction and desire. "And this is only the beginning."

Chaitali's heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at Rajesh Sir, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and desire. She knew that she was his, body and soul, and the thought sent a thrill of pleasure through her body. She was a sex slave, a vessel of pure desire, and she drank in the attention and pleasure that came with her newfound role.

As the night deepened, the air thick with the scent of desire and anticipation, Rajesh Sir's voice cut through the hush, his tone commanding and laced with a cruel edge. "Mohit, Dev, bring the cross," he ordered, his words dripping with authority. The guests, their eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and sadistic pleasure, murmured their approval.

Mohit and Dev, ever the loyal lackeys, hurried to fetch the Andrew's cross, a sinister apparatus that sent a thrill of both fear and excitement through Chaitali's body. She stood naked and trembling, her skin flushed with the remnants of pleasure and the anticipation of what was to come.

As the cross was set up in the centre of the lawn, Rajesh Sir turned to Chaitali, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and cruelty. "Ab teri asli training shuru hogi, randi," he sneered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "Tujhe sikhaunga ki kaise asli maza aata hai."

Chaitali's heart pounded in her chest as she was led to the cross, her body trembling with a mix of fear and desire. She could feel the eyes of the guests on her, their gazes like burning coals against her skin. As she was secured to the cross, her arms and legs spread wide, she felt a sense of vulnerability and exposure that sent a thrill of pleasure through her body.

Rajesh Sir stepped forward, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he addressed the assembled guests. "Dekho, yeh hai Chaitali, meri personal sex slave," he announced, his voice dripping with pride and satisfaction. "Isne ab tak jo kuch bhi seekha hai, sab maine hi sikhaaya hai. Lekin ab iski asli training shuru hogi."

He turned to Chaitali, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and cruelty. "Tujhe pata hai, tera pati yahaan khada hai aur dekh raha hai ki kaise tu hum sabki randi ban rahi hai," he sneered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "Uske saamne hi main tujhe sabak sikhaunga."

Chaitali's husband, standing at the edge of the crowd, his face a mask of shame and humiliation, could only watch as his wife was degraded and humiliated in front of the assembled guests. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions as he watched his wife, the woman he loved, being transformed into a vessel of pure desire and pleasure.

Rajesh Sir stepped forward, a whip in his hand, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desire and cruelty. "Ab se teri har chaal, har harkat mere haath mein hogi," he announced, his voice dripping with authority. "Tujhe sikhaunga ki kaise asli maza aata hai."

The first strike of the whip sent a jolt of pain and pleasure through Chaitali's body, her skin stinging with the force of the blow. She moaned softly, her body arching against the cross, her mind a whirl of sensation and desire. Each strike of the whip sent waves of pleasure and pain coursing through her body, her moans of pleasure filling the night air.

As the night wore on, Chaitali's body was subjected to a myriad of sensations, each one designed to degrade and humiliate her, to break her down and rebuild her as a vessel of pure desire and pleasure. She was whipped, beaten, and subjected to a myriad of cruel and sadistic acts, each one sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through her body.

Through it all, I could only watch, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind a whirl of shame and humiliation. I turned out to be a cuckold, a man whose wife had been transformed into a sex slave, a vessel of pure desire and pleasure for the amusement of the assembled guests.

She lay against the cross, her body trembling with the remnants of pleasure, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and desire.
After hours of torture and humiliation Chaitali pussy is leaking of her juice and pleasure in her eyes indicates that she is thoroughly enjoyed. Rajesh Sir came forward and released her from the torment. She is lying on the ground, panting with exhaustion.

A first man stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Chaitali with a hunger that made her skin tingle with anticipation. As he entered her, Chaitali moaned softly, her body arching into his touch, her mind a whirl of pleasure and desire. She could feel the heat of his skin, the hardness of his desire pressing against her.

One by one, the men stepped forward, each one taking their turn with Chaitali, their bodies rough and demanding as they took what they wanted. She could taste the salt of their sweat, the bitterness of their desire, and it only served to fuel her arousal.

As the night wore on, Chaitali's body was subjected to a myriad of sensations, each one designed to degrade and humiliate her, to break her down and rebuild her as a cum dump. She was used and abused, her body trembling with the remnants of pleasure, her mind a whirl of sensation and desire.

And then, as the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, it was her husband's turn, now my turn. I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on Chaitali with a mix of lust and shame. As I entered her pussy, Chaitali didn’t respond, as nothing happened, her pussy is so stretched that she couldn’t even feel dick. I took out my dick and pressed to her ass, same no response. I continued fucking her, and released my cum on her back. Then she looked back at me and started giggling, and asked, “You finished so quickly?”

As the last of the guests departed, Chaitali lay on the soft cushions. A group of servants stepped forward, their hands gentle as they cleaned and treated Chaitali's body, their touch a stark contrast to the rough and demanding hands of the guests. They administered medicine and ointments, their touch soothing and caring as they tended to her wounds and bruises.

As they finished, they offered her a plate of food, the scent of spices and herbs filling the air. Chaitali ate hungrily, her body craving the nourishment and sustenance it needed. But as she finished, a wave of drowsiness washed over her, the sedative in the food taking effect.

As the servants led her to a cage, Chaitali's body was heavy with sleep, her mind a whirl of pleasure and satisfaction. She curled up in the cage. She drifted off to sleep.

[chodn_khanki]

As the first rays of the morning sun filtered through the bars of the cage, Chaitali stirred, her body aching and her mind groggy from the sedative. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light, and realised she was still naked, her body bearing the marks of the previous night's debauchery. The memories of the gangbang, the rough hands, and the cruel words flooded her mind, sending a shiver of both fear and anticipation down her spine.


A loud, harsh voice cut through the silence, jolting her fully awake. "Uth ja, randi!" Rajesh Sir barked, his tone dripping with contempt. "Tera din shuru hone wala hai."

Chaitali's heart pounded in her chest as she slowly got to her feet, her body trembling with a mix of pain and desire. She could feel the soreness between her legs, a constant reminder of the previous night's events. As she stepped out of the cage, Rajesh Sir grabbed her roughly by the hair, pulling her close to him.

"Kal raat tu bahut achi thi," he sneered, his breath hot against her face. "Lekin ajj tu aur bhi behtar hona padega. Samjhi, chudail?"
As Rajesh Sir's cruel words echoed in her ears, Chaitali felt a mix of shame and arousal coursing through her veins. She nodded submissively, her eyes downcast, her body trembling with anticipation. Rajesh Sir grabbed her by the hair and dragged her towards the mansion, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Chal, chudail," he spat, pulling her along. "Ajj tu mere saath bathroom mein jaegi."

Chaitali's heart pounded in her chest as she was led into the opulent bathroom. The marble floors were cold beneath her bare feet, and the air was thick with the scent of luxury and decadence. Rajesh Sir sat down on the commode, his eyes fixed on Chaitali with a cruel gleam.

"Ab toh pata chal gaya hai tera kaam," he sneered, unzipping his pants and pulling out his dick. "Tujhe bas chut khol ke chudwana hain, samjhi?"

Chaitali knelt before him, her hands trembling as she reached out to take his dick in her mouth. She could taste the saltiness of his skin, the musky scent of his arousal filling her nostrils. She began to suck, her movements slow and deliberate, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions.

As she sucked, Rajesh Sir let out a low groan of pleasure, his hands tangling in her hair. "Aur achi tarah se kar, randi," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Mujhe aab peshab karna hai."

Chaitali's eyes widened in shock, but she didn't stop. She continued to suck, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. She could feel the warmth of his piss as it began to flow into her mouth, the taste bitter and salty. She gagged slightly, but she didn't stop. She swallowed, her throat working convulsively as she drank down his piss.

He sat back on the commode, his dick still hard and demanding. Chaitali continued to suck, her movements slow and deliberate, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. She could hear the sounds of Rajesh Sir's body, the crude and vulgar noises as he began to shit. The smell was overpowering, filling her nostrils and making her gag, but she didn't stop. She was a whore, a slut, a vessel of pure desire and pleasure, and she reveled in the attention and degradation that came with her newfound role.

As Rajesh Sir finished shitting, he let out a low groan of pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. Chaitali could again taste the bitterness of his cum, the saltiness of his skin.

Rajesh Sir ordered with a cruel gleam. "Ab mere pair choos," he commanded.

She could feel the roughness of his skin, the dirt and grime of the day. She began to lick, her tongue tracing the contours of his feet, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. The taste was bitter and salty, the smell overpowering, but she didn't stop. As she finished, Rajesh Sir pulled her away, his breath hot against her face. As Rajesh Sir flushed, a few specks of shit were on the comode, "Ab is commode ko chat ke saaf kar," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Chaitali nodded, her body trembling with a mix of pleasure and shame. Chaitali's heart pounded in her chest as she realised what he wanted. She knelt before the commode, her hands trembling as she began to lick and clean the bowl. The taste was bitter and chemical, the smell of fresh shit.

As she cleaned, she could feel Rajesh Sir's hands on her body, his touch rough and demanding. He entered her from behind, his movements urgent and desperate. Chaitali moaned, her moans of pleasure filling the bathroom.

He led her to the shower. She could feel the warmth of the water, the roughness of his hands, and the fire of her desire.
As they finished, Rajesh Sir pulled her close, his breath hot against her ear. "Ab tu taiyar hai," he whispered, his voice a low growl. "Ajj ka din shuru hone wala hai."

And as they stepped out of the shower, Chaitali's mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions. She was ashamed of what she had done, of the pleasure she had taken in her degradation. But she was also aroused, her body craving more of the rough, demanding touch of Rajesh Sir and his friends.

She knew that the day was far from over, that there was more degradation and humiliation to come. But she also knew that she was powerless to resist.

[chodn_khanki]

Please proof read before publishing...

Rajesh Sir ordered with a cruel gleam. "Ab apne pair choos," he commanded. She could feel the roughness of his skin, the dirt and grime of the day. She began to lick, her tongue tracing the contours of his feet

I am dead sure he meant to say "abh mere pair choos"....

My apologies, I fully understand how a small mistake can spoil the mood. I will endeavour to prevent such errors from happening again. I hope you enjoyed the flow of the story apart from that.

[chodn_khanki]

As Chaitali stepped out of the bathroom, her body completely nude and exposed, she felt a rush of excitement and anticipation. She hadn't worn clothes in the last five days, and her body had become accustomed to the feeling of being bare and vulnerable. Her face was adorned with tattoos, the word "whore" prominently displayed around her mouth, a constant reminder of her role and purpose. The dog's collar is a reminder of her position, and she loved the feeling of being treated like a kutiya, a cheap randi for the pleasure of others.


Rajesh Sir was waiting for her, his eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He grabbed her by the collar and led her down the hallway, his grip firm and commanding. "Chal, besharm randi," he said, his voice low and authoritative.

Chaitali loved the feeling of being controlled, of being nothing more than a cheap whore for his pleasure. "Haan,  Sir," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Main aapki gandi randi hoon. Please mujhe use kijiye."

As Rajesh Sir led Chaitali into a room, Chaitali could see the cameras and lights set up, ready to capture every moment of her degradation. Five men were waiting for her, their eyes hungry with desire. They were setting up cameras and lights, preparing for the live show that would be broadcast to an audience of eager viewers. Chaitali felt a rush of excitement at the thought of being watched by so many people, of being the centre of attention in such a depraved setting.

One of the men, a tall, muscular man with a smirk on his face, stepped forward. "Well, well, well, look what we have here," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "A cheap whore who loves to be used and abused."

Chaitali smiled, her eyes locked on his. "Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm your whore, your slut, your cheap little rand. Use me however you want."

The man grabbed her by the hair and pulled her close, his breath hot on her face. "Tujhe pata hai, tu ek gandi chudail hai," he said, his breath hot on her neck. "Aur aab puri duniya ko pata chalega ki tu kitni gandi aur sasti rand hai."

Chaitali moaned softly, her body responding to his touch and his words. "Haan Ji," she gasped. "Main aap saab ki sasti rand hoon. Aap mujhe jaisa chahe, use kar sakte hain. Saab ko dikha dijiye meri chut, and, saab kuch, mujhe fadk nahi padhti."


As Rajesh Sir left. Slowly, four other men stepped forward; they were all wearing masks, but Chaitli’s face was not covered. "Aa ja, rand," he said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards him. "Hum sab ko pata hai ki tu kya chahti hai. Aur hum sab tere ko wohi denge."

As Chaitali was led to the centre of the room, she felt a rush of excitement and anticipation. The bed, positioned under the bright lights and surrounded by cameras, was the stage for her degradation. The men pushed her onto it, her body fully exposed to the cameras and the men. She loved the feeling of being wanted, of being the centre of attention in such a depraved setting.

The live show began, and the men took turns using her, their bodies pressing against hers in a frenzy of lust and desire. Chaitali's body writhed with pleasure as she was filled and stretched in ways that made her feel alive. 

As the show went on, the men became more and more creative in their degradation of her. They spat on her, called her names, and made her do things that would have made her blush in any other setting. But here, in this room, with the cameras rolling and the audience watching, she felt a sense of liberation and emancipation that she had never experienced before.

"Dekh, yeh rand kitni geeli hai," one of the men said, his voice filled with contempt. "Bas chodne ke liye banayi gayi hai tu randi."
Chaitali moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure. "Haan," she gasped. "Main aap sabki gandi rand hoon. Kutiya hun.  Please aap log meri chut fadh do, meri gand mariye please“

The comments from the online audience flooded in, each one more degrading and filthy than the last. Chaitali loved the attention, the feeling of being watched and desired by so many people. She positioned herself in front of the camera, her eyes locked on the lens as she spread her legs wide, giving the audience a clear view of her wet and glistening pussy.

"Look at this slut," one comment read. "She loves being used and abused."

"Yeah, she's nothing but a cheap whore," another comment said. "Look at her, begging for more."

Chaitali moaned softly, her fingers tracing circles around her clit as she read the comments. She loved the feeling of being wanted, of being the centre of attention in such a depraved setting. She arched her back, her body writhing with pleasure as she fingered herself, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

One of the men came in front of her, his cock hard and ready. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards him, his voice gruff and commanding. "Chal muah khol randi," he said. "Ab mujhe dikha ki tu kya kar sakti hai."

"Look at this slut," one of the men said. "She loves sucking cock."

Chaitali moaned around the cock in her mouth. Her tongue swirling around the head of his cock as she began to pleasure him.

"Dekh, yeh rand kitni achhe se chus rahi hai," one of the men said, his voice filled with contempt. As he reached his climax, the man's body trembled with pleasure, his cock throbbing in her mouth as he released his seed. Chaitali swallowed every drop.

As the show went on, the men became more and more creative in their degradation of her. They made her suck their cocks, fucked her in every hole, and made her do things that would have made her blush in any other setting. But here, in this room, with the cameras rolling and the audience watching, she felt a sense of freedom and liberation that she had never experienced before.


When it was all over, Chaitali lay on the bed, her body spent and her mind buzzing with the memories of what had just happened. She knew that she would never be the same again, and she couldn't wait for the next time she would be used and abused in such a delicious way.

As the men left the room, Chaitali couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the experience. She was their whore, their slut, their cheap little rand, and she loved every moment of it. She knew that countless people had watched the live show, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

She lay there, her body aching and her mind racing, knowing that she had found her true calling. She was a cheap whore, a gandi rand, and she loved every moment of it.

As the live show ended, I closed the lid of the laptop which Rajesh Sir had given me a few hours back. Now there is no going back, no undo button. Chaitali is now exposed to the world. My chain of thoughts broke when I saw a WhatsApp message from one of my friends - "Tera biwi ka show mast tha".

[chodn_khanki]

My Whore’s Live Show… and My Own Humiliation

I sat in the dimly lit room, opened my laptop again to check the live feed of Chaitali’s degradation. One of my friends already watched the live show. My cock was hard, my mind fucked up with a mix of shame, arousal, and sick fascination. I had just watched my wife—no, my whore—get fucked, humiliated, and broken in front of thousands. And now, Rajesh Sir had a new plan for me.

The phone rang. It was him.

"Sun, kutte," Rajesh Sir’s voice was cold, commanding. "Tujhe ek kaam karna hai. WhatsApp pe apne friends ko call kar. Aur phir… unko dikha de ki tu kitna kamina hai."
My stomach twisted. "Sir, main…"

"Chup. Karna padega. Nahin toh Chaitali ko main bhari bazar main nangi ghumayanga, Samjha?"

I swallowed hard. I had no choice.

I opened a group video call with my closest friends—guys I’d known for years. My hands shook as I angled the camera to show my face, my expression a mix of fear and sick excitement.

"Yo, bhai! Kya ho raha hai?" one of them laughed. "Itne serious kyun ho?"

I took a deep breath. "Dekho… maine kal raat Chaitali ko… bech diya."

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

"Bhai, tu pagal hai kya?"

"Arre, yeh kya bakwas hai?"

I zoomed the camera out, showing them the laptop screen—the recording of Chaitali’s live show, her screams, her begging, her getting fucked by strangers.

"Dekh lo. Yeh sab sacch hai. Aur ab… Rajesh Sir ne mujhe bhi istemal karne ko kaha hai."

My friends were stunned into silence, their eyes glued to the screen as they watched my wife—their friend’s wife—get used like a public toilet.

"Bhai, yeh toh…" one of them muttered, his voice thick with shock and arousal.

"Ab maine unki ek demand poori karni hai," I said, my voice trembling. "Chaitali ko aur degrade karna hai. Live."

I switched the camera to Chaitali, who was still naked, collared, and on her knees in the adjacent room. Rajesh Sir stood behind her, grinning like a demon.

"Namaste, sabko," Chaitali whispered, her face flushed with shame. "Main aap sabki… sasti rand hoon."

My friends lost it.

"BHOSDIKE, YEH KYA HO RAHA HAI?!"

"Arre, Chaitali, tu… tu yeh sab kar rahi hai?!"

"Bhai, yeh toh porno se bhi zyada wild hai!"

Rajesh Sir laughed, then grabbed a bowl of dog food and a glass of warm, yellow piss. "Chaitali, khana shuru kar. Aur tum," he looked directly into the camera at me, "apne friends ko dikha ki tu kitna kamina husband hai."

Feeding the Whore Like a Dog

Chaitali whimpered as Rajesh Sir shoved the bowl of dog food in front of her. The dry kibble smelled rank, but she didn’t hesitate. She dug in with her hands, stuffing the hard pellets into her mouth, chewing like an obedient bitch.

"Mmm… bohot tasty hai, Sir," she moaned, licking her fingers clean. "Main toh bas aapki kutti hoon."

My friends were speechless, their dicks visibly hard through the camera.

"Arre, bhai, yeh toh…" one of them groaned. "Tujhki biwi ko dekh ke toh mera lund khada ho gaya!"

I felt a sick thrill run through me. "Dekho ab," I said, my voice shaking with humiliation. "Ab usko peshab pilana hai."

Rajesh Sir grabbed Chaitali’s hair, tilting her head back as he poured the glass of piss down her throat. She gagged, some of it dribbling down her chin, but she swallowed every drop, her eyes watering.

"Aapka peshab… bohot achha lagta hai, Sir," she gasped, licking her lips. "Main aur chahungi."

My friends exploded.

"MAADARCHOD, YEH KYA HO RAHA HAI?!"

"Bhai, tu ne apni biwi ko itna giraya hai?!"

"Arre, yeh toh mere dream scene hai!"

I couldn’t look away. My cock was rock hard, my mind a mess of shame and lust.

My Own Degradation

Rajesh Sir wasn’t done.

"Ab tera number hai, kutte," he said. "Apne friends ko batana ki tu kitna kamina hai. Aur phir… apni biwi ko bolna ki tu uske saath kya karna chahta hai."

The call connected. My friends were still on the WhatsApp video, watching as I stammered, my face burning with shame.

"M-main…" I swallowed hard. "Main Chaitali ko… bas ek rand samajhta hoon. Aur main chahta hoon ki sab usko choden. Sab uski chut faden. Sab uski gand maren."

Silence. Then—

"BHOSDIKE, TU TOH PAGAL HO GAYA HAI!"

"Arre, bhai, tu ne toh apni hi biwi ko bech diya!"

"Par… yeh toh bohot hot lag raha hai," one of them admitted, adjusting his cock.

Chaitali moaned, her fingers slipping into her pussy as she watched me humiliate myself. "Haan, mere pati… main toh bas aap sabki rand hoon. Aap sab mujhe jaisa chahe, use kar sakte hain."
Rajesh Sir grinned. "Ab sabko pata chal gaya ki tum donon kitne kamine ho. Chaitali, ab in sabko dikha ki tu kitni geeli ho jaati hai."

A Whore’s Orgasm on Demand

Chaitali spread her legs wide, her fingers working furiously on her soaking cunt as my friends watched in shock and arousal.
"Dekho, sab… main kitni geeli hoon," she moaned, arching her back. "Mujhe bas chodne ki zarurat hai. Please… koi mere chut mein ungali daalo."

One of my friends—my best friend—couldn’t take it anymore.

"Bhai, yeh toh…" he groaned, his cock fully out now. "Tu kaha hain, main kaal hi aata hoon. Tujhki biwi ko main khud chodunga."
Rajesh Sir laughed. "Aao. Sabka swagat hai. Lekin pehle, is kutte ko apni biwi ko bolne do ki wo kitni sasti hai."

I looked into the camera, my voice breaking.

"Chaitali… tu ek dam sasti rand hai. Tu bas sabki chudail hai. Aur main… main bas tera kamina pati hoon, jo tere istemal hone se khush hai."

Chaitali came instantly, her body shaking, her moans filling the room as my friends watched, stroked themselves, and made promises to come and fuck her in person.

Rajesh Sir ended the call with a satisfied smirk.

"Kal subah, yeh sab yahan aayenge. Aur tab… Chaitali ko sab milkar chodenge. Aur tu?" He looked at me. "Tu bas dekh sakta hai. Kyunki tu bas ek kamina husband hai."

No Going Back

I sat in silence, my cock still hard, my mind a wreck. I had just humiliated myself in front of my friends. I had watched my wife become a public slut. And now, there was no turning back.

My phone buzzed. A message from the group chat:
"Bhai, kal 10 baje. Rajesh Sir address bhej, kaal hum log flight pakad ke aata hun. Chaitali ko hum sab milkar chodenge. Tu bas dekh sakta hai. Aur haan… apni biwi ko bol de ki wo taiyar rahe. Hum sab usko dog ki tarah treat karenge."

I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to.

Chaitali crawled to me, her body still trembling from her orgasm. She licked my ear, her voice a whisper.

"Mujhe bohot maza aaya, pati. Kal aur bhi maza aayega."

And as I stroked my cock, watching the recordings of her degradation, I knew one thing for sure:
We were both lost. And we loved it.

[chodn_khanki]

The Gangbang Begins: My Friends, My Whore, and My Shame


The morning sun burned through the curtains as I stood outside Rajesh Sir’s farmhouse, my stomach twisting with a mix of dread and sick excitement. My five closest friends—guys I’d known since college—pulled up in their cars, their eyes hungry, their dicks already half-hard just from the WhatsApp clips I’d sent them last night.

"Bhai, yeh jagah toh…" one of them whistled, stepping out of the car. "Bilkul filmon jaisa hai. Aur teri biwi…" He adjusted his cock, grinning. "Wo toh ab ekdam public property ban chuki hai, na?"

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Haan. Bas aap log usko use karo. Main sirf dekhunga."

They laughed, slapping my back like this was just another boys’ trip. But we all knew—this was different. This was my wife. And today, she was their slut.

Chaitali’s "Welcome" for the Gang

Rajesh Sir opened the door, his smirk cruel as he led us inside. The stench of sex, sweat, and piss hit us immediately. And there, in the center of the room, on her knees, was Chaitali.

Her body was a canvas of degradation:

• "SLUT" tattooed boldly on her forehead.
  
• "WhOre" encircling her mouth like a sick halo.
  
• "Cum Dump" is branded on her right cheek.
  
• "Public Toilet" scrawled on her left.
  

Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen from sucking cock all night, her body covered in bruises, bite marks, and dried cum. She looked up at us, her eyes empty—**not with fear, but with hunger.

"Namaste, saab log," she whispered, her voice raspy. "Main aap sabki rand hoon. Aap jo chahe, mujhse kar sakte hain."

My friends lost it.

"BHOSDIKE, YEH KYA HAI?!" one of them growled, already unzipping his pants.

"Arre, yeh toh pure desi porno ka scene lag raha hai!" another laughed, grabbing his cock.

Rajesh Sir clapped his hands. "Chalo, shuru karo. Lekin pehle… is kutte ko apna swagat karne do."

The "Welcome Ritual": Licking Boots, Drinking Piss, Eating Dog Food

Chaitali crawled forward, her collared neck scbanging against the floor as she stopped at their feet.

"Saab log, aapka swagat hai," she moaned, her tongue darting out to lick the first guy’s boots. The leather tasted like dirt and sweat, but she didn’t stop, slobbering all over them like a starving dog.

"Yeh toh kutti ki tarah behave kar rahi hai!" the guy laughed, shoving his foot harder against her face. "Chal, mere jute saaf kar."

She obeyed, spitting on his boots and scrubbing them with her hair before licking them clean.

"Ab isko peshab pilao," Rajesh Sir ordered, handing a warm glass of yellow piss to the next guy.

Chaitali opened her mouth like a good slut, her eyes watering as he poured it down her throat. She gagged, some dribbling down her chin, but she swallowed every drop, licking her lips afterwards.

"Boht achha lagta hai, saab," she gasped, her voice trembling.

"Ab khana khilao," Rajesh Sir grinned,  shoving a bowl of dog food soaked in comode water toward her.

She didn’t hesitate. She dug in with her fingers, stuffing the warm, stinking substances into her mouth, chewing slowly as my friends watched in sick fascination.

"Mmm… aapka khan bohot swadista hai, saab," she moaned, licking her fingers clean.

One of my friends couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back.

"Teri ma ki chut, rand," he spat. "Tu itni gandi hai ki mujhe abhi hi teri gand mein lund marne ka mann kar raha hai."

The Gangbang Begins: No Mercy, No Limits

They didn’t waste time.

The first guy shoved her onto the bed, flipping her over and spreading her asscheeks wide. "Dekh, bhai log—yeh rand ki gand kitni khuli hai!" he laughed, spitting on her asshole before ramming his cock inside.

Chaitali screamed, her body jerking as he fucked her ass raw.

"AAHHH! SAAAB! AAPKA LUND ITNA BADA HAI! MUJHE FAD DEGA!" she howled, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

The second guy didn’t wait. He grabbed her face, shoving his cock into her tattooed mouth. **"Chus, rand. Aur achhe se. Nahin toh main teri WhOre wali tattoo ko chaku se kat dunga."

She obeyed, deepthroating him as he fucked her face, choking her until tears streamed down her cheeks.

The third guy went for her pussy, slamming into her with no warm-up. "Dekh, bhai—yeh chut itna geela hai! Bas randi hi ho sakti hai!"

They took turns, switching holes, spitting on her, slapping her, calling her the filthiest names:

• "Tu toh sasti gandi rand hai!"
  
• "Teri ma ki chut se bhi gandi hai tu!"
  
• "Chal, bol—tu kaunsi chut hai? Public toilet na?"
  

Chaitali answered between moans:

• "Haan, saab! Main public toilet hoon! Sabke liye khuli hoon!"
  
• "Mujhe bas chodne ke liye banaya gaya hai!"
  
• "Aap sab meri gand fad do! Meri chut phad do! Main toh bas ek cum dump hoon!"
  

My Role: The Humiliated Husband

Rajesh Sir didn’t let me just watch.

"Uth, kutte," he barked, shoving a dog bowl into my hands. "Teri biwi ko khana khila. Aur phir… uske peshab se apna muh dho."

I hesitated, but one look at Chaitali—her body being used, her eyes rolling back in pleasure—made me obey.

I knelt beside her, scooping up a handful of dog shit and stuffing it into her mouth. "Kha, rand," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Tu bas ek gandi chudail hai."

She chewed, moaning as my friends laughed.

"Ab peshab," Rajesh Sir ordered.

I filled a bowl with her piss—warm, yellow, reeking—and dipped my face into it, washing my mouth like a good little bitch.

"Boht achha, kutte," Rajesh Sir mocked. **"Ab dekh, teri biwi ko kitne log chod rahe hain."

Cum Dump

After what felt like hours, my friends finally came—all over her.

• One came on her face, painting her tattoos white.
  
• Another filled her mouth, forcing her to swallow.
  
• The last one pulled out of her pussy and sprayed her tits, rubbing it in like lotion.
  

Chaitali laid there, covered in cum, breathing hard, her body trembling.

"Ab isko saaf kar," Rajesh Sir said to me.

I crawled to her, licking the cum off her face, her tits, her tattoos, swallowing every drop like the pathetic cuck I was.

"Boht achha, pati," she moaned, petting my head like a dog. "Tum bhi mere saath chudoge?"

I looked at Rajesh Sir. He nodded.

"Haan," I whispered, unzipping my pants. "Main bhi… tera istemal karunga."

And as I fucked my own wife—her used, gaping holes still dripping with my friends’ cum—I realised: We were both beyond saving.