How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

I am not the author. 

If original author is here, pls let me know.

If someone knows original author, pls let me know

I am just posting from old xossip

All credits to original author. I don't have Author info.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 1

“It’ll be like Disneyland,” I told my wife. “For grown ups.”

Nandini looked at the website—which, I had to admit, didn’t really explain the Mughal-e-azam nauchandi’s appeal. “Bawdy comedy?” she asked. “Wood carving? That doesn’t sound—”

“It’ll be great. Everyone’ll be in costume. There’ll be hot guys with swords, wearing armor and stuff.”

My wife was a big fan of those historical cable dramas about Mughal slaves and Rajput, and I suspected a big part of the appeal was all the oiled muscle on show. She blushed and, for a second, it looked as if it had worked. Then she narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. “Why do you want to go?”

I blushed. “I just thought it’d be fun. We could…dress up and stuff.”

“Dress up? Wait. What would I have to wear?”

Damn. “Just a dress, like all the other women,” I said innocently.

Nandini stole the mouse and clicked through one of the galleries on the website. “Like this?!” she asked, horrified.

There was a gorgeous apsara on the screen wearing a low-cut vaishya’s dress. Her creamy cleavage was almost escaping.

“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, something like that.”

Nandini looked aghast. “But you’d be able to see…everything! All the other men would be able to see me!”

I had to stop myself reacting, because at those words a deep, hot ripple of arousal went through me, finishing in my groin. I actually felt my cock twitch. All the other men.

That was exactly what I wanted.

“Come on,” I said. “It’s no big deal. Everyone dresses like that. It’s just a bit of fun. And there’ll be mead and ale—”

“So drunk guys will be gawping at me?”

“—music and dancing and…lots of stuff. Come on. Please?”

She tossed back her long, chestnut hair and stared at me. I could tell she was uncertain, but my pleading eyes eventually melted their way through her defenses.

“Okay, okay, fine,” she said. “But you have to wear something equally ridiculous.”

[Givemeextra]

Let’s rewind.

The first time I realized that I loved showing off my wife was almost a year before. It had been our wedding anniversary, funnily enough. Four years married, six together and everything had been going great. Well, nearly everything. Good jobs, nice house. No kids, but we were talking about it. The only problem was in the bedroom.

I’m kind of a shy person—always the one in the corner at parties. When I met Nandini, everyone said we were made to be together because she was just like me: quiet and studious, preferring a book to a night out (historical Mughals were her idea of a guilty pleasure). Except that neither of us quite fitted the shy person mold.

Nandini didn’t look as if she should be shy. Tall, with full breasts and long, silken hair, she was alluring in a way that wallflowers aren’t meant to be. She had to fight the guys off—in fact, that might be why she first agreed to go out with me, because I was the only one too shy to hassle her.

I couldn’t match her in looks, but what I did have was a sex drive set much higher than a shy guy should. It was as if I had the sexual needs of a player, one of those cool guys who bedded a different girl every night. I knew how lucky I was to bag Nandini and I cherished every moment with her…but it didn’t change the fact that I was horny all the time and she wasn’t—or, at least, she didn’t appear to be.

It wasn’t that I wanted sex with other women. I was a hundred percent faithful, and so was she. It was that I needed…more. I wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t as if sex with Nandini was bad—we did it at least every couple of weeks, which I told myself was pretty good after four years of marriage. And I loved the sex we had; it was just that it was…tame. I’d go on top or, occasionally, she’d go on top, and that was the limit of our experimentation. I’d coaxed her onto all fours once, loving the way her breasts hung down and bounced as I drove into her, but she’d seemed really uncertain.

“Did you like it?” I’d asked her when we’d finished.

She’d blushed and looked away and I’d cringed inside, assuming that I’d pushed her into something she hadn’t wanted to do. A few days later, she’d quietly asked if I wanted to try it again, but I reassured her that I wouldn’t ask her to do something that degrading ever again.

So we continued. Nandini would sit in the living room reading historical Mughals while I hunkered in the den, sating myself with porn on my PC, searching things like anal sex and deep throat and even gang bang. I always took care to wipe my history when I was done, because I didn’t want Nandini to know I was into that stuff. I still felt that there was something missing, though, something I needed but that I couldn’t find.

Then came the night of our wedding anniversary. We’d been out for dinner and were heading for a drink at an upmarket bar. There’s a moment I remember very clearly, because in many ways it’s the instant our lives changed. We stepped out of the doors of the restaurant, Nandini fiddling with her purse and simultaneously moving to pull a cardigan around her shoulders. She was wearing a black lehenga that hugged her ass and a dark red, low-cut top. On its own, it showed off a generous amount of her soft, pale cleavage—much more than she would usually show. That’s why she’d worn a cardigan with it, to cover herself up, and it had worked fine in the air-conditioned restaurant. But as we came down the steps and the muggy city air hit us, she hesitated.

“It’s too hot,” she said, frowning. She looked down at herself uncertainly. “Do you think I can get away without it?”

I smiled. The top wasn’t that outrageous—just low cut for her. “Sure,” I said. “It’s fine.”

She folded the cardigan into her purse and we set off. Her breasts looked fantastic against the dark red of the top, the skin touchably smooth and soft. All I wanted was to pull her into a cab, get her home and do wicked things to her.

And then it happened. As we were strolling down the street, a guy in a suit passed us coming the other way. His eyes locked on my wife’s breasts and he stared.

Nandini didn’t notice—she was looking in the other direction, and the guy was gone in a second. But I sure noticed. I saw the look in the guy’s eyes and it hit me like a truck. First a gleam of raw lust as he took in her beauty. Then a flicker of surprise as he saw me and finally a flash of anger as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to have her.

I liked it. That’s what really shocked me. Something about seeing another man plainly lust after my wife made my cock twitch. At first, I thought it was the pride—knowing that I had a hot wife. Then I thought it might be the feeling of superiority—I’ve got her and you haven’t. But when I played it back in my mind, the real reason became clear. He’d wanted her. For that second, he’d imagined fucking her. And if I hadn’t been there to stop him…he could have done it. Seduced her and stolen her and fucked her.

The whole experience almost made me stagger and Nandini must have wondered why I went suddenly quiet. As I walked along with her, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

Then it happened again. A guy a few years older than me, giving my wife a long, lecherous look as he passed. Again, she seemed not to notice. And this time, I was imagining in my head what would have happened if I hadn’t been there. Maybe he would have stopped her and propositioned her—he wasn’t bad looking, for an older guy. What if Nandini was a different kind of woman, one who wasn’t faithful to me? Maybe she would have kissed him, right there in the street. In my mind, I could see them together, their bodies entwined, his lips mashing against hers as his tongue slipped into her mouth, one hand kneading at her breast.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 2
I swallowed and shook my head to clear it. Only a little way down the road, a group of guys was approaching and I knew that they’d stare at my wife, too. By now, though, she was looking ahead of her and would be sure to notice. So, for the first time, I took action. I waited until they were nearly on us, until they were already starting to look at her, and I pointed something out in a store window on the other side of the street. She looked towards my pointing finger, and that left the guys free to stare.

And stare they did. Long, hungry looks at her breasts and legs. And because they were in a group, more than that. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they mimed squeezing her breasts with their hands, muttering obscene comments to each other. I wanted to hear them. I wanted—needed—to hear every word they were saying. In my mind, I could see them pushing her into a dark doorway, one of them covering her hungry, gasping mouth with his as the others groped and fondled her breasts, hands yanking up her lehenga, fingers working beneath until the street echoed with the cries of her orgasm.

I stumbled, nearly pulling Nandini down with me.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worried.

I told her I was. But the truth is, I was better than okay. I’d discovered something new about myself. I loved showing off my wife, having other men stare at her and fantasize about her. And maybe more. In the darkest, deepest recesses of my mind, I imagined her letting them touch her…even kiss her. And when I was alone and jacking off, I even thought of them between her thighs, a hard cock sliding into her as she gasped and moaned.

That scared me, a little. Was there something wrong with me, that I got turned on by the idea of my wife with another? It wasn’t that I didn’t feel jealousy—the idea of another guy with my wife made my chest close up tight with rage...but the anger was blended with lust. I knew I never wanted anything to actually happen—well, maybe if someone kissed her, that would be okay—so that left me playing around the edges. I bought Nandini lehengas that barely reached down to mid thigh: she didn’t wear them. I tried to get her into higher heels: she refused. Occasionally, I’d persuade her to wear a tight dress with a scoop neck and then I could enjoy the way the waiter gulped and swallowed and angled for a better look as he was serving her, or the way the cab driver stared in his rear view mirror at her.

I never told Nandini what was really going on in my head. And however hard I tried, she was far too shy to do any serious teasing.

That’s how I hit upon the idea of the Mughal-e-azam nauchandi. Being in a completely new environment, where the norms were different and everyone was dressed up, might help her to let loose. All the other women would be in similar clothes, so she wouldn’t feel out of place. And I knew that lots of guys went there specifically to drool at the women, so she’d get plenty of attention. We were both pretty busy with work, but we cleared our diaries for the final afternoon of the nauchandi. It sounded perfect.

I had no idea how wrong it would go.



“I can make you a member of the gentry or a daaku vaishya,” said the costumier.

“daaku vaishya,” I broke in. “Definitely daaku vaishya.” vaishya had to be good, right?

Nandini bit her lip prettily. “Um…okay. Sure.”

The man handed her a large bundle of dark red fabric, a small blue and black bundle and finally some hard, curved black panels joined with laces. Nandini looked uncertainly at the pile, but thanked the man and went into the changing room.

Moments later, she stuck one arm out of the curtains and beckoned me in. I slid into the small room with her. “What’s up?”

She was standing in just her black bra and panties, with the black thing around her waist. It was some sort of corset, one that only covered her from just above her pubis to well below her breasts. “I think you’re meant to lace me into it,” she said nervously.

I just stood there for a second, stunned. Sometimes it hit me just how gorgeous she was. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and she was mine.

“What?” she asked nervously.

I shook my head. “Nothing. You’re just beautiful.”

She blushed and I started to lace her into the corset. As I pulled on the laces at the back, it tightened, shrinking her waist and making her breasts appear even bigger. “That’s enough,” she said.

I couldn’t help it. “I think it’s meant to be tighter,” I said. And I pulled the laces harder. I watched as her waist shrank more, until her already impressive figure was a mouthwatering hourglass.

“Stop!” she gasped. “I can hardly breathe!”

I stopped. “Is it okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to loosen it?”

She took a few breaths, looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. “No. I’m okay. I can wear it for a few hours. God, no wonder women used to faint all the time.” She took another hesitant breath. “God, I bet I couldn’t run or…anything.”

Her eyes went distant for a second and I presumed she was thinking of how uncomfortable she’d be all day. I felt suddenly guilty. I’d just wanted her to get lots of attention; I didn’t want to spoil the day for her. “I’ll loosen it,” I said, and reached for the laces.

“No!” she said quickly. And then she blushed. “It’s fine.”

The blue and black bundle turned out to be a figure-hugging top, tight enough that it showed off her nipped-in waist and the magnificent swell of her breasts. There was only one problem.

“I can’t wear a bra,” she said. The dress was strapless—or, rather, it had straps but they were designed to go down around the upper arms. A bra’s shoulder straps would be clearly visible, ruining the look.

Nandini reluctantly stripped off her bra. My wife has the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen, full and heavy, the same delicate skin tone as the rest of her, pale and somehow vulnerable. They’re topped with perfect, pencil-eraser style nipples, light pink with small areolae.

She pulled the dress up over her breasts. The top of the dress was tight enough that it squeezed her breasts together, making them bulge provocatively out of the top. She heaved the dress as high as it would go, but she has quite a long torso, and the dress would go no higher. Her nipples were barely hidden. I could feel my cock harden in my pants. It was perfect!

“It’s awful!” she said mournfully. “I can’t go out like this!”

“Everyone will be dressed like that.” I rubbed her bare shoulder to reassure her. “You look great.”

Biting her lip again, she put on the lehenga. It was made of some light, iridescent material in dark red that shone as it caught the light. It was long, covering her almost to the ankles, and at first glance not very sexy. There was no slit up the side at all.

We went back out into the main tamboo and the costumier clapped his hands, telling my wife how good she looked—and I noticed that his eyes went straight to her cleavage. Nandini looked as if she was about to change her mind, but then he handed her the rest of her costume—knee high daaku jooti with silver buckles and a belt from which hung a sword and a dagger. For the first time, I saw Nandini smile. “I get a sword?” she asked excitedly.

She didn’t bother going back into the changing room, just put her foot into one of the jooti and then placed it onto a chair to do up the buckles. This meant hiking her lehenga up above the knee, and the costumier and I were treated to a display of gorgeous, toned thigh. Under the lehenga, she was wearing only a flimsy pair of black briefs. It might be long, but its looseness meant it could be pulled up very easily…in some ways, I realized, she was more exposed and accessible than if she’d been wearing a tight, short lehenga.

Nandini put her other boot on and tried walking. The jooti had heels that must have been over three inches high. They wenai’t as obvious as a spiked stiletto heel, but they had the same effect. With every step my wife took, her ass swayed provocatively and her breasts jiggled and bounced. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked incredible! My only concern was that, when she realized how sexy she looked, she’d call a halt to the whole thing.

Fortunately, she was more interested in putting on the leather belt that held her dagger and sword. With it buckled around her hips, she really did look like a daaku vaishya. She tried to draw her sword, but found it was locked into its scabbard with bright orange zip ties. “What are these for?” she asked.

“It’s peace bonded,” said the costumer. “That’s a real sword and a real dagger. We don’t want you hurting anyone. Security will stop anyone they see carrying weapons that aren’t peace bonded.”

She pouted just a little. “I can’t swing it around?”

“No! You could take someone’s head off!” the costumer told her.

“You still look pretty badass,” I said.

“I do?” she asked shyly. “Really?”

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 3
She ran—as best she could, in the jooti—over to a mirror and I tensed, waiting for the howl of outrage as she saw her exposed cleavage. But none came. “I don’t look badass,” she said quietly. “I look….” She trailed off, and got that distant look in her eyes again.

I frowned. I’d never seen her like this before. “Do you like it?”

She coughed and nodded and I swore I saw her blush. Why would she be blushing?

I decided I’d figure it out later. The important thing was to get her into the nauchandi before she changed her mind. “Let’s get in there,” I said, and took a step towards the counter to pay.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” she said. “I’m not going out there dressed like this with you in jeans. You said you’d wear something equally ridiculous.”

I’d completely forgotten about my own costume. I asked the costumier to give me a standard male outfit, but he rubbed his chin in concern.

“The problem is,” he said, “the nauchandi is pretty busy, and there’s a lot more men than women. And you’re a little on the small side.”

I flushed. I am a little on the short side for a guy, and slender, with it. Nandini being tall doesn’t help. With her heeled jooti on, she was a good few inches taller than me.

The costumier looked through the racks and shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any male outfits that would fit you.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re not telling me I have to wear a woman’s outfit?”

“Oh, gracious no. I have a youth outfit here that’ll fit you. It just might be a little…tight.”

It was.

When I came out of the changing room, I was in a pair of cream tights that were so tight you could see the bulge of my cock and balls. On my top half, I wore a sort of waistcoat the guy called a jerkin, with no shirt underneath. On a bigger guy, it might have looked quite good, but on me it hung limply on my slender chest, showing off my lack of muscles. A pair of rough, worn jooti that didn’t lend me any extra height completed the outfit.

“Don’t I get a weapon?” I asked plaintively.

“No,” the costumier said. “You’re a stable boy.”

My wife looked at me. “You look great,” she said. Then tried not to laugh.

I sighed. I was in a hurry to get into the nauchandi, because we were only there for the afternoon and it was already well past noon. It’s worth it, I thought. It’s worth it to see Nandini in that costume. I paid the costumier, we put all our twenty-first century possessions in a locker, and we headed in.


It was like Disneyland for grown ups. For the first few minutes, I didn’t know which way to look first.

There were vendors hawking their wares—everything from clothes to furniture. There were food and drink stalls, selling ale and mead and twenty different varieties of meat-on-a-stick. There were jugglers and singers and people dancing.

The difference was that, in Disneyland, you ignored the rest of the attendees except when you had to stand in line behind them. Here, the guests were as much of a draw as the attractions.

Almost every woman was in a low-cut dress, a peasant blouse or some sort of corset. lehengas were hiked up for dancing, showing lots of leg. Some of the women were in little more than a bikini made of fur or chain mail (the nauchandi had a pretty loose interpretation of history and I saw elf maidens, cat girls and steampunk ladies…and all of them looked amazing).

Some of the men had gone to just as much trouble. I saw guys in full sets of armor and a few were even riding about on horses dressed as lords and princes. A lot of them had taken the opportunity to show off their muscles, with black leather versions of my jerkin and tight pants…only on them, the effect was a lot more flattering.

I walked on and almost smacked right into Nandini’s back. She’d stopped dead, entranced by a lohar working at his stall. The guy was stripped to the waist and pounding on a piece of metal with a huge hammer, his long, sandy-blond hair hanging down over his face, his muscles gleaming with sweat.

I’d never known Nandini to look at another man before. Which, when I thought about it, was sort of weird. Maybe she’d just been hiding it well, and didn’t feel the need to hide it here. Or maybe it was that these guys were dressed just like the men in the cable shows she loved. It gave me a little pang of unease to see her looking, but I quickly dismissed it. I mean, I was looking as well, right? It was only fair.

Besides, that unease was twisted around something else. The idea of her thinking of another man, even though I knew she’d never do anything about it, played right into my fantasies. I put my arm around my wife’s waist and she actually jumped, she’d been so lost in watching the guy. She looked immediately guilty.

“Let’s go over there,” I said. “Let’s see what he’s doing.”

She blushed. “Oh! No, I was just looking, I wasn’t really—”

But I guided her over there and said a cheery hello to the guy. Who ignored me. I was put out for a second, but then I realized it was part of his act. Everyone was in character, and you were meant to play along as much as you could.

“No time for talk, young squire,” he told me. “I have twenty swords to finish before nightfall.” He whacked the metal particularly hard and a shower of sparks flew up. His tanned biceps gleamed.

Nandini was shuffling her feet and trying not to look at him, apparently quite embarrassed to be suddenly close to the man she’d been gazing at…and probably fantasizing about. “We should go,” she whispered to me.

“You, vaishya,” the lohar said. “Come fetch me some water. I have no time to lay down my tools.” And he finally lifted his head and looked right at my wife, and I saw something pass between them. The guy was pretty good looking, with a short blond beard and a winning smile that defused his arrogant attitude. In fact, with all that tanned muscle and the big hammer, he looked like a Norse god.

My wife blushed, but I was surprised to see her practically run forward and pick up the ladle from a bucket of water. The lohar stepped away from the forge a little, still clutching the red hot sword in one hand and his hammer in the other. He was taller than her, even with her heeled jooti on and, as she pressed up against his naked chest to put the ladle to his lips, she suddenly looked very small and fragile. And as she reached up with the ladle, I saw him staring straight down at her breasts, perfectly offered up to him by the dress and almost within reach of his mouth.

He drank hungrily, his bare chest rising and falling as he panted between gulps. He leaned back as he emptied the ladle and my wife had to press up against him harder to keep it at his lips…and then she planted one hand right on his chest to balance herself.

The lohar drank his fill, gave a growl of satisfaction and suddenly pulled my wife into the crook of one arm, keeping the hot sword out of the way. She yelped, but then, as he bent her backwards over his arm, she went sort of…limp. I mean, he wasn’t holding her, and she could have just straightened up, but she just hung there and stared up at him, and I saw her start to pant, her eyes wide. The lohar grinned, leaned down and kissed the base of her throat. The spot he chose made it light and playful—it wasn’t like he was kissing her on the lips. Yet on the other hand, his mouth was only a hands-width above the top of her breasts. And still she made no attempt to move.

“Begone, vaishya!” he told her. “I have work to do! Distract me no more with your temptations!” He hoisted her up and sent her staggering out of his tamboo.

I was standing there open mouthed. The whole thing had taken only thirty seconds, but my wife had been ogled, grabbed and kissed. It was exactly what I’d dreamed of, and my cock was hardening rapidly in response.

“Well,” said Nandini, panting. “I mean—That was—Well.” She didn’t sound offended or angry, exactly. It was more like she was trying to sound offended and angry. As if she thought she should be.

I was grinning. I was so, so¸ glad that we’d come to the nauchandi. Then, just as we were about to move on, I glanced back and caught the lohar looking at the two of us. I gave him a friendly smile, just to show that everything was cool and we were fine playing along—I understood it was all in fun. And he smiled back at me, but the smile wasn’t…right.

His eyes flicked to my wife and then to me and the smile he gave was cruel and calculating, sending a deep chill through me. And it ended, weirdly, not with a final look at my wife’s ass or breasts but with a sneering, knowing look at my own costume, especially the lower half.

I stopped in my tracks, a chill rising in me. For a moment, I looked back over my shoulder towards the entrance. Past the costumier’s tamboo, I could see bits of our old, familiar world—cars and SUVs, people in normal clothes. Should we just leave?

I looked at my wife, at those gorgeous breasts jiggling as she walked along. She realized I’d stopped and turned around, flicking her long hair over one shoulder and smiling at me, as if asking what the problem was. Right then, a man passing by her took the opportunity to gawp at her chest and I felt my cock stiffen again.

I shook my head, dismissing my concerns. We moved on.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 4
For the next few hours, everything was fine. We took in a comedy show, met a whole host of mughal era characters and I ate a huge amount of barbecued meat. There was ale, too, which I liked and Nandini didn’t, and mead, which she loved and I didn’t care for. We soon both had a buzz going—not actually drunk, but appropriately merry for a nauchandi.

Nandini got a lot of attention. Almost every man we passed took his time leering at her cleavage—far too many for her to be unaware of it. She didn’t seem to mind as much as I’d thought she would, though. She seemed different—excitable, like a horse that can sense a storm coming. She seemed to be breathing high and fast, and her eyes were gleaming. Flighty. She seemed flighty.

I got some attention, too. Quite a few people, men and women, glanced down at the front of my tights as they passed. I eventually looked down and realized to my horror that my cock was standing erect, its outline clearly visible beneath the thin fabric. You could see I was hard and, worse, you could see my size.

I’m not the biggest guy. I mean, I’m not tiny, but I’m not hung. I reddened as I realized that everyone walking towards us had seen me…judged me. And I couldn’t lose my hard-on. The sight of my wife right in front of me, with her tight ass swaying and her breasts bouncing, with all the other men staring at her…I was permanently hard. I had no choice but to walk around like that and suffer the looks from other people. It hit me that the lohar hadn’t been looking at my costume when he’d given me that final sneer. He’d been looking at my erection. I reassured myself that there was no way he could know that it was the sight of him kissing my wife that did it to me.

“Do you want to try that?” asked my wife. She was pointing towards a tamboo filled with couples dancing. We could only get a few glimpses through the tamboo mouth because it was pretty dark inside. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but it didn’t look too difficult. A sign outside said “Adults Only, Role Play.” I only had a hazy idea of what role playing was, but I presumed we could figure it out.

Inside, the tamboo had been lit with candles and a quartet of musicians with lutes and harps were providing the music. The dance seemed to be some sort of formal, lords and ladies thing where you followed the directions of a caller at the front. Everyone but us was in elaborate embroidered gowns or suits with frilly shirts.

I took my wife’s hands and started to dance. God, she looked amazing in the dress, with her long brown hair shining in the candlelight and her smile gleaming as she giggled. I felt like the luckiest man alive. We stepped past each other, turned, linked arms, and turned again, copying everyone else. I held her corseted waist, marveling at her new look. Nandini’s figure was great already, but with the corset exaggerating her hourglass shape she was stunning. And she appeared to be having a good time. For the first time since we arrived, I started to really enjoy the nauchandi as a couple, instead of just thinking about the men staring at her. We should do this again, I thought.

Then the caller said to change partners.

I had to move one way, towards a red-haired woman, and my wife had to move the other, towards a guy with curly black hair. I could see Nandini blink in surprise, her eyes going wide as the guy closed in on her. She glanced between him and me. Is it okay? she seemed to ask.

I nodded quickly. Of course it was fine if she danced with someone else. I mean, it was only dancing.

A little voice spoke up in my head. Unless it turns into something more.

Which was stupid. I was right there in the tamboo with her. It wasn’t going to turn into anything.

But you’d sort of like it if it did, teased the voice.

I looked at my wife again. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, but staring up at the guy who was dancing with her. He was big, like the lohar, and was dressed up as some sort of nobleman, with a shirt that was stretched tight over a broad chest. As I watched, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. Something jumped inside me, a mixture of panic, jealousy and lust. It’s fine, I thought. It’s just a dance.

“Boy,” the woman standing in front of me said, “Do you care to dance, or not?”

I flushed and took her waist, and we began to dance. She was quite pretty, a few years younger than me, with a green low-cut dress that displayed a mouth-watering scoop of pale cleavage. Dancing with her, though, meant I couldn’t keep an eye on my wife. I kept trying to look over the woman’s shoulder, but the room was packed and I couldn’t see Nandini anywhere.

The woman twirled around, sending her auburn hair out in an arc, and spun into my arms, her ass pressed up against the bulge in my tights. “Oh my,” she said lightly. “I do believe the stable lad is excited.”

I flushed bright red and gave her a sheepish smile. And then, through a break in the crowd, I saw my wife.

She was standing in the same position as my partner, with her back pressed up against the man’s chest. Her ass was snugged just as tightly into his groin, but…I swallowed. The guy had tight trousers on and he, too, had a noticeable bulge there. A much bigger one than I had.

My eyes tracked upward. He had an arm around my wife’s waist, and she had an arm thrown up around his neck. Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes closed. As I watched, I saw his gaze rake over her exposed cleavage. He grinned to himself.

My partner twirled away from me, pulling me to a different part of the dance floor and I lost sight of my wife. Minutes passed before I saw her again. This time she was facing her partner, snuggled up close against him, his hands on her back. Then, as I watched, his hands snaked down and clasped her ass.

Something like an electric shock went through me, crackling down through my chest. My own partner was forgotten as I watched his large hands smooth over my wife’s ass and then squeeze.

My wife pulled her head back a little, looking shocked, then reached back and lifted his hands off her ass and back to her waist. The guy just grinned, leaned down and whispered something in her ear. I saw her blush, breathing hard for a second—almost panting. The guy then slowly and deliberately put his hands back on her ass.

She left them there.

The crowd closed up and I lost sight of her. I danced an automatic pilot, only vaguely stumbling through the steps. Inside I was raging, torn between the desire to run over there and drag the man off her and the need to watch. Why was she letting him grope her? Maybe it was just accepted here.

I tried it for myself. I slid my hands from my partner’s back down to her ass.

She leaned back to look at me and then there was the whistle of something whipping through the air. My head jerked to one side, pain exploding across my cheek, and I realized I’d just been slapped.

Everyone around us turned to stare. The music stopped, and it all went very quiet. “How dare you, boy!” the woman said loudly, and everyone laughed. “Do you take me for some strumpet?”

I flushed red and released her. “I’m sorry! I thought it was all…part of the dance.”

She tossed her hair theatrically and sniffed. “A stable boy shouldn’t even be allowed at this sort of occasion,” she told the woman next to her, who nodded. “He certainly shouldn’t try to besmirch a lady’s honor.”

I glimpsed my wife through the crowd again and my jaw dropped. The man she’d been dancing with had scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her. She had her arms around his neck and was staring into his eyes. Her lehenga was rucked up above her knees, and the combination of bare skin and knee-high jooti was alluring.

I backed away from my partner, my face stinging, putting my hands up in apology as her friends harangued me for being an “uncouth beast.” She didn’t seem all that annoyed…in fact, the whole thing felt like an act.

And then I remembered the Role Play sign outside and it clicked. She was playing a role, and so was I. Part of the fun was doing things you normally wouldn’t, if the role permitted it. A woman could dress up as a noblewoman and be danced by some dashing prince who wasn’t her husband. A man who had a lowly real-life job could pretend to be rich, and a woman who was a high-powered lawyer in real life could play at being a lowly serving vaishya. It wasn’t that I’d grabbed her ass. It was that a stable boy—a peasant—had grabbed her ass, when she was a lady. No doubt if I’d been dressed as a lord, she’d have accepted it. No wonder it’s an adults only event! Everyone was using it as an excuse to hook up!

Then I remembered Nandini. She was in a vaishya’s outfit, surrounded by men playing rich, powerful lords.

I fought my way through the crowd towards where I’d last seen her. There was a huge mound of silken cushions in one corner of the tamboo where people could flop to take a break. There was quite a bit of kissing going on, but I couldn’t see my wife anywhere.

Then, right at the back in the semi-darkness, I saw her. She was sitting on his lap, his arms around her waist, blushing as he muttered in her ear. As I watched, he pulled her a little tighter to him and she gasped.

I went to approach them…and then veered off and turned my back, breathing hard. Suddenly, a different idea had popped into my head. What if I didn’t intervene? What if I just watched?

It was dark at the back of the tamboo, and if I stayed away from the candles I was almost invisible. I crept closer, until I could hear them.

“I told you on the dance floor, vaishya, you will learn to obey me or I’ll have you arrested and strung up. I know your sort, arriving aboard some daaku’s galleon and bringing disorder and ruin to a respectable town.”

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 5
My wife gasped again, and I waited for her to say something like, “Um, this is all very fun, but I should probably be getting back to my husband now.” But instead, in a fair approximation of a Bengali accent, she said, “Sir! You have made a mistake. I’m merely a maiden, not a daaku!” And then she…struggled against him. And when I say struggled, I mean…didn’t really struggle at all. She just sort of writhed against him as if helpless, even though she could have easily got up off his lap. It seemed to be calculated to rub her ass against his crotch and tease him with her hair while doing absolutely nothing to actually free her.

My wife was playing along. She was actually acting out her role, even though we’d just wandered into this role play thing accidentally.

“Then why do you have a dagger, if not to plunge it into a sleeping man’s heart? Perhaps you mean to kill me in my sleep after I take you?” He reached around her and unbuckled her belt of weapons.

“No, no—” said my wife. “Don’t take my weapons! Don’t leave me defenseless!” She did another one of those non-struggles. A real change was coming over her, now. Her mouth was open and her breath was coming in hot little pants. She’s not just playing along, I thought in shock. She’s turned on.

“Now,” said her dance partner. “Now that I’ve made you safe, open up those sweet lips to me, or I’ll see you dangle from the gallows.” My wife was leaning back against him and, as I watched in horror, he shifted so that her head lolled back onto his shoulder. He smoothed her hair out of the way. He was about to kiss her!

I waited for my wife to say something to stop him.

She didn’t.

His mouth descended on hers, and just before they connected I saw her soft, pink lips part in welcome. Then he was kissing her, deep and hungry, and within seconds I could tell that his tongue was in her mouth. She arched her back, pressing herself against him, and I saw one breast rub against his upper arm. He was doing something with his other hand, too, on the side of her facing away from me. I craned around for a better look…. Holy shit! He’d yanked her lehenga almost up to her waist on that side, and his hand was sliding along her thigh, upward and inward.

I was numb with shock…and at the same time more excited than I’d ever been in my life, my cock almost painfully hard, my heart pounding. That my wife would allow this was unbelievable—at home, she was so shy! Putting on the costume must have unlocked something inside her, and then finding herself in this role play event must have been the final straw. I remembered her dance partner whispering in her ear, out on the dance floor. He must have explained how the event worked, and that she as a vaishya should be subservient to him as a lord. Of course, Nandini would have known full well that she could just walk out at any time—it was only a game. But maybe the role play was just what she needed as an excuse. She’d never kiss another man, of course—she was a hundred percent faithful. But if she “had” to kiss another man to stay in character, if, in her mind, she was a helpless daaku vaishya, in thrall to an evil lord….

A bomb went off in my mind. Then she could do anything she wanted!

My chest went tight. Maybe I’d been reading my wife wrong, all these years. Maybe she had needs I’d never known about, and had just been too shy to express them. How far would she go, now that she had an opportunity?

The man nodded towards the dancers, as if telling her that it was time for them to go and rejoin the action. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear, and she blushed. His hand was under her lehenga—God, was he feeling her up?

She blushed again. She had a strange look in her eyes—she was turned on, but it was more than that, more like she was off in her own little world. And then she nodded. He made a sudden motion with the hand that was under her lehenga and she yelped and blushed even more. Then she slid off his lap and he strode off into the crowd.

I stepped forward into the light.

“Rishab!” She blinked twice and seemed to snap back to her old self, the distant look in her eyes gone. She blushed crimson, glancing at the departing back of her partner. “You…saw that?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. Yell at her, for kissing another guy? But she’d done exactly what I’d secretly wanted her to do—let a guy leer over her and flirt with her and get her alone—and it had been just as much of a turn on as I thought it would.

Of course, she’d gone a lot further than I’d wanted…I mean, I’d thought about her kissing someone as a fantasy, but I hadn’t wanted it to actually happen…had I? And she didn’t know that it was a fantasy of mine, so she’d sort of cheated on me.

I looked at her face, distraught and on the verge of tears, and I knew that I couldn’t be angry at her. I’d be faking it, making her feel bad just to righteously defend my manhood. Instead, I took her hands, pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay,” I told her quickly.

“It—It is?” Her eyes were moist.

I sat her down on the cushions. “It’s okay. Really. I’m not angry.”

She swallowed, looking at me disbelievingly, but seemed to calm down. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I just….” She blushed. “I got kind of…into it, and it just sort of…”

“It just sort of happened?” I asked gently.

She shrugged guiltily. “Yes…but that wasn’t what I was going to say. It just sort of…turned me on,” she said in a small voice.

“Kissing a stranger?” I asked, thinking I understood.

She nodded. “Yes, and….”—she looked away, unable to meet my eyes—“He was a lord, and he was going to have me hung as a daaku if I didn’t do as he said. I was…”—she almost whispered it—“helpless.”

My jaw dropped. Helpless?! We’d never played around with BDSM. Nandini wasn’t into that…was she? Suddenly, all that non-struggling made a lot of sense. I realized she was still looking at me with big, worried eyes.

“Look,” I said. “Honestly, it’s alright.”

“But...aren’t you angry?”

And there it was. Decision time. Tell her the truth and expose my fantasies, or lie to her and make her feel terrible?

It wasn’t any decision at all. My love for her gave me only one choice…and, ultimately, doomed me.

“No,” I said softly. “I’m not angry.” I edged closer to her, not wanting anyone else to hear. “Look, I should have said something a long time ago. I…”—I took a deep breath—“I get turned on, seeing other men looking at you. Seeing that guy kiss you was even better.”

She stared at me for a long time.

“Say something!” I said.

“I’m just…are’t you jealous?” she asked.

“Yes! Jealous and angry. But turned on as well. More turned on than angry. I mean, being turned on makes it okay.” I sighed. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“So you…want me to do things with other guys?” she said slowly.

I nodded. “Do you think I’m weird?”

For a heart-stopping moment, she said nothing. Then: “No. I mean, I’ve heard of people liking that. It’s just…wow. It’s a lot to take in.” She looked around her at the candles, the lords and ladies. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation here.”

“Maybe we had to have it here,” I said. “Maybe this is a good place to…you know. Both come out of our shells a bit.”

She glanced back at the cushions where she’d sat on the man’s lap, and blushed. “Maybe.” She thought for a while. “So it wouldn’t be cheating? I mean, you’d really be okay with it?”

I had to think about it. I’d lived so long with the fantasy that it was hard to get used to the idea of it becoming a reality. “Yeah. I’d have to be there, though. That’s what would make it not cheating. That I’d be there, and know everything that went on.”

She nodded. “How far would you want me to go?”

And that was the moment. All I had to say was, “No further than kissing,” which was about how I felt. Or maybe “No clothes come off,” which was definitely my limit. Why didn’t I just say that? My brain was screaming at me to say that. But I still had an image in my brain of Nandini being mounted by her dance partner, his strong body between her legs, and even though I knew it was just a fantasy, knew for certain that I’d never want it to happen in reality, it made me hesitate. What if I drew a line, and then wanted to go just over it? What if I said No further than kissing, but then wanted her to go just a little further and she called a stop to things?

And so, fatally, I said, “I don’t think we should set a limit. I’ll be there. I’ll just stop you if it’s too much.”

She swallowed and I saw her breathing speed up. “Really?”

I nodded slowly. I was still thinking in terms of kissing and groping—I never considered that she might be thinking of much, much more. “Yep.” I stood up. “Now…how about we get out of here?” And I held out my hand to help her up.

She smiled and took it, pulling herself to her feet. Then she threw herself into my arms and kissed me. “Thank you!” she said.

“For what? For giving you permission?”

“For being honest with me.” And she hugged me. As we walked towards the exit, I was elated. I had visions of us having happy adventures together, with her dancing and kissing strangers in bars and me watching from a few feet away, and then fantastic sex afterwards. I thought we’d just taken a huge step forward in our marriage. I had no idea of the mistake I’d just made.

Just as we neared the exit, I saw Nandini’s dance partner. He was side-on to us, taking a break at the side of the tamboo and watching the dancers. As I watched, I saw him lift his hand to his face. In his huge palm was a scrap of black, silky fabric from which dangled some thin bands. He raised it to his nose, inhaled deeply, and grinned.

I had to turn the image around in my head before I realized that I was seeing a pair of women’s panties with the waistband snapped.

Nandini’s panties. He’d torn them off her as part of their scene.

I walked Nandini out of there before she saw him, but my brain was already working overtime. Suddenly, I was seeing things in a different light. I could imagine, now, what he’d been doing under her lehenga. He must have had his hand bunched in her panties, stretching them away from her pussy, and whispered something like, “I will take your underclothes as a trophy, you harlot.”

And she’d agreed. Not just to giving him her panties, but to having them ripped off. That was way beyond my comfort zone.

And then I’d come along and told her that I was fine with the whole thing. She now thought I was okay with far more than I really was.

I looked across at her as she strolled happily along. Should I say something? But if I did, she was liable to panic and be upset, and we were only just getting started on this whole new adventure. Best to chalk it up to experience, I figured. She’d gone too far, but nothing like that was ever going to happen again. I’d step in and stop things before it did.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 6
We explored the rest of the nauchandi, taking in a couple of music acts and watching some live demonstrations. For a few hours, everything was normal. I relaxed enough to begin enjoying myself again, feeling my cock harden each time a guy stared at Nandini’s breasts. But the excitement of that was shot through with the memory of a darker, riskier pleasure. Now that I’d seen her kiss another guy, having them merely look at her was less fun. Part of me wanted more...but I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk my wife getting carried away again, even with the boundaries we’d agreed. It felt as if I was playing with something truly dangerous.

The sun was sinking low, setting the sky ablaze with orange and gold, when I saw the man on horseback. He sat tall in the saddle and he was well built, but with an athlete’s powerful muscle, not a bodybuilder’s ugly bulk. He was dressed in an elaborate costume even grander than the nobles I’d seen walking around, and if there could have been any doubt who he was playing, the crown on his head sealed the deal.

Nandini had ducked into the tamboo of a self-proclaimed herbalist and was busy cooing over supposed love potions and elixirs of wealth, and I began to hope that she’d stay in there until he’d passed. As he came closer, I saw that he had dark, short hair and the sort of blue eyes that women say are piercing or clear blue pools. A strong jaw, too, shaved but already dark with stubble again, and defined cheekbones. He looked like he belonged in Hollywood. And he was even riding a white horse—he was a Mughal fantasy come true. I just knew that my wife would like him and that should have turned me on. It did, in a way. But something about his eyes sent a deep sense of unease through me. They were too...cold.

Weirdly, he seemed to be looking for someone as he rode towards us, checking out everyone in the crowd. People waved to him and stopped to chat and sometimes petted his horse, and he put on a good show of being friendly, but his eyes never stopped searching.

And then Nandini stepped out of the herbalist’s tamboo.

Within seconds, the raja was riding our way. He rode straight up to us, then past us, and now his eyes were fixed on the horizon. Nandini watched open-mouthed as he passed her, and let out a little sigh that sounded almost wistful.

It was only when he’d passed us that the raja glanced idly around and saw Nandini. Immediately, he pulled his horse up short and turned around to walk back to her. Nandini gave a little gasp of astonishment. She’d caught the king’s eye, just like the lowly maiden in the stories.

Except I knew that wasn’t what had happened at all. I knew now why he’d been searching the crowd so hard. He’d been looking for her, and now he’d made it look as if he’d happened upon her by chance. That sense of unease rose and grew.

“Fair lady,” the raja said in the best Bengali accent I’d heard all day. “A tragedy almost occurred. Another second and I might have ridden right past you and missed the opportunity to compliment your beauty.”

Something strange happened to Nandini. She sort of blushed and giggled and pushed a lock of hair back from her face, all at the same time, and then she was sort of crouching, folding her legs under her. It hit me that she was curtsying. She must have picked it up from those cable dramas. “You are too kind, sire,” she told him, slipping straight back into her own version of a Bengali accent.

The raja swung a leg over his horse and jumped down to the ground, landing easily. Hell, he was a lot taller than me, or Nandini. “I am not, good lady. Words can do you no insaf. What is your name?”

My wife had her eyes downcast, now, just flicking them up to meet his when she dared. “Nandini, sire.”

He looked at her clothes. More specifically, he looked at her breasts, pale and firm and offered up to him by the neck of the dress. I suddenly regretted persuading her to wear it. I suddenly regretted a lot of things. What was wrong with me? I knew Nandini wouldn’t cheat on me. We’d agreed that I’d stop her before she went too far, and this—a guy checking her out, clearly lusting after her body—was exactly what I’d wanted all along. So why did I get a sense of creeping dread every time I looked at the king?

No, wait. Not every time I looked at him. Every time I looked at the two of them together. That was it. I trusted Nandini...I just didn’t trust her with him. It was like watching a deer nuzzling the hand of a hunter.

Even as I thought it, the king’s gaze turned to me. “I see you brought one of your servants to the nauchandi,” he said. “Is he your stable lad?”

Nandini reddened on my behalf. “Oh! No, sire. He’s my husband.”

The raja made a big show of amazement. “A beautiful blossom like you is married to—” Then he appeared to catch himself. “My pardon. I meant no disrespect. A lady may marry a stable lad, of course, just as a raja may bed a vaishya. What he lacks in stature I’m sure he makes up for in other areas.”

He was grinning. A few people around us had stopped to listen, and the raja was careful to give me a big wink. It’s all part of the nauchandi, that wink said.

And so I laughed, and Nandini laughed too. It was all fine—everyone around us knew that the raja was really a great guy, and he was only playing at offending the poor husband.

But under the veneer of fun, it didn’t feel like that at all. There was a cruel gleam in the king’s eyes that everyone but me had missed. He was pretending it was a joke, but he was doing everything he could to make me look like an idiot.

Suddenly, he made the “Time out” symbol with his hands. I’d seen a few people do it when they wanted to say something out of character in a scene. He stepped closer to my wife. “Actually,” he said. “You may be able to help me. We’re about to do a public display scene and we need a stand in.”

Something about his voice hit me. He hadn’t shifted to an Bihari accent. I realized he actually was Bengali. No wonder he got to be the king! With those looks and that voice, he must be incredibly popular with the Mughal-e-azam scene.

“A scene?” Nandini asked. “For the public? Oh, I’m not an actress. We’re just guests.”

“I’m sure you’d do it very well. It’s just a capture and punishment scene.”

“Capture?” said Nandini, a strange little quiver in her voice.

“Punishment?” I asked.

The raja smiled wolfishly. “It’s just a bit of fun. We bring a criminal to insaf, put them in the stocks and spank them.”

“Spank...?” said Nandini disbelievingly...and, to my amazement, hopefully.

“That would be alright, wouldn’t it? You’re the adventurous type.” The king’s eyes twinkled.

I actually saw Nandini’s breathing speed up. Her chest started to visibly rise and fall and, with her low-cut dress, the effect was stunning. “I...Yes,” said Nandini. “Wait. No.”

The raja grinned again. “Make up your mind,” he said teasingly.

Nandini looked at me for a second, then turned back to the raja. “Yes,” she said.

It only occurred to me then that she’d been checking I was okay with it. That had been my opportunity to say “No,” and I’d missed it.

The raja immediately went back into his role. “You there! Stop! You’re one of the daakus who’ve been threatening my ships!” He advanced on my wife, his size intimidating.

Nandini put her hands up in front of her. “N—No, sire! You’ve made a mistake! I’m a simple kisan’s wife!”

He grabbed one slender wrist and pulled her to him, and she let herself be drawn tight against his body, her soft breasts pressed against him. “Yet you carry the weapons of an outlaw...or perhaps an assassin!” He unbuckled her belt and it fell to the floor, the sword and dagger clanging loudly.

Nandini was actually panting with arousal, now. Just as in the dance tamboo, the feel of being restrained by a strong, dominant man was doing something to her, putting her into a state I’d never seen her in during all our years together. Why did I never know this? I could have done this to her!

“N—No, sire!” she pleaded. “I am loyal to the king!” She non-struggled, which just rubbed her breasts against his chest.

“Silence! No doubt you have more knives concealed on you. Or perhaps poison to slip into my food!” the raja yelled, his booming, actor’s voice carrying. A crowd had quickly formed around us and everyone was eager to see insaf done.

“No, sire,” my wife almost shrieked.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 7
“Let’s see,” said the raja. I was so shocked that I didn’t pick up on what he was intending until he was actually doing it, and then my jaw dropped in horror.

He began to search her. He couldn’t take her clothes off, of course—this was a Mughal-e-azam nauchandi, not a BDSM club. But he could run his hands all over her body to “check for weapons.” I saw him cup her breasts and squeeze, and trace the lines of her corseted waist, and fondle her ass and run his hands up and down her thighs. Of course, my wife writhed and pleaded, her face red. But, just as before, she was careful not to struggle so hard as to break his grasp. And I could see her getting more and more aroused with every touch of his hands. Helpless, she’d said. Something about being helpless.

The crowd loved it. The men, especially. And for a second, I was back in the street again, on our wedding anniversary, imagining the guy pulling her to him and running his hands over her body. Wasn’t this exactly what I’d wanted? My cock was hard. I was getting off on it...but along with the arousal there was a burning jealousy. And a jagged edge of fear...I could feel things sliding out of control.

“No more weapons,” the raja told the crowd in a loud voice. “Unless she’s carrying a tiny dagger in some secret place. Perhaps I’ll search her more thoroughly, back at the palace.”

The crowd cheered and laughed. My initial shock started to pass and I felt white-hot rage swell inside me. Nandini was clearly consenting to all this—in fact, she was loving it—but she was my wife. The raja couldn’t just—couldn’t just—

I stepped forward. “Stop, sire,” I said, wishing I could make my voice boom like the king’s.

The raja put his hand on my chest and pushed. It wasn’t a very hard push, only designed to send me staggering backward a few feet. Just part of the show. But I wasn’t ready for it and I went tumbling onto my ass.

Everyone laughed.

“Do not attempt to interfere with insaf, citizen,” the raja told me. He gave me an apologetic look for the benefit of the crowd, but I knew he wasn’t really sorry at all. Nandini looked concerned for a second, but then he pulled her hard against him and she just sort of went limp against, looking up at him with huge eyes.

I watched from the ground as he tied her wrists together in front of her with a leather thong. Nandini just stood there and stared at her wrists as he did it, as if it was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen and I knew from her expression that she must be moistening at the feeling of being tied. The raja climbed up into his saddle, taking Nandini’s belt of weapons with him, then easily swung her up to sit in front of him, her ass pressed against his groin.

“But...but she’s my wife!” I said from the ground.

“You can see her in the stocks,” the raja told me. “The same as everyone else.” And he urged his horse into a gallop. The crowd cheered again and ran after him, wanting to see the next part of the show.

I got slowly to my feet, my eyes locked on the horse and its two passengers. The raja was having to press up against my wife to use the reins, their bodies molded together from groin to shoulder. I wondered if his cock was hard, if she could feel his hardness rubbing against her ass. And then I saw him take the reins in just one hand and snug his other arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Just to ensure she didn’t fall off as they sped through the nauchandi, of course. Except I could see his hand come up to cup first one breast and then the other, and the way she writhed against him in reaction. And I saw him stroke her tummy in small circles, as if relishing her flatness. The sight of it sent crackling bolts of heat straight down to my groin, but at the same time I was becoming more and more afraid.

Rattling around my brain was this wasn’t supposed to happen! But Nandini hadn’t broken the rules we set. I hadn’t told her to stop and so she’d gone ahead, and was having the time of her life.

I knew now that there was something deep and powerful inside my wife that I hadn’t known about, a need to submit to a dominant man. It had come to the surface when she’d put on the costume—I suddenly remembered how she’d reacted to the feeling of the tight corset. I bet I can’t even run or anything, she’d mused. The final push had been the role play scenes. She was able to immerse herself in a world where a lowly vaishya could find herself helpless at every turn.

I didn’t know what that secret urge to submit might make her do. It was an entirely unpredicted variable that could wreak havoc with my careful plan. I’d thought she was shy and timid, that I’d always have to be the one to push her. But all these men had to do was to give her just a hint of that feeling of helplessness and the old Nandini was gone. Lost in her arousal, what might she agree to? Would she go too far?

I started to run after the horse, but quickly fell behind. I could feel the fear taking over as my wife disappeared into the distance with a stranger. Stop! I wanted to yell. Stop! She’s not yours!

Something the raja had said had been bothering me and, as I ran, it finally clicked home. You’re the adventurous type, he’d said. As if he already knew her...or knew of her.

Legs aching, chest burning, I tried to run faster.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 8
Unlike the dance tamboo, the stocks were open to everyone. That reassured me...I mean, if it wasn’t “adults only” then there couldn’t be any nudity or anything, so my wife couldn’t go too far...right?

The stocks themselves were in a grassy compound with tamboos to the sides and rear and a barrier at the front for the crowd to stand behind. That meant that whoever was in the stocks could be easily seen by the crowd, but only from the front. The significance of that escaped me at first.

The crowd was already five deep along the barrier, but I pushed my way to the front. By the time I got there, the raja had already untied Nandini’s wrists and one of his sipahi had lifted the top part of the stocks. I saw Nandini look at the three semi-circles her neck and wrists would rest in and gulp. I waved to her frantically from the crowd, but she didn’t seem to see me, and there was so much cheering going on that my frantic cries were lost.

Nandini slowly bent forward at the waist and placed her neck into the middle hole, then her wrists into the two smaller ones at the sides. Immediately, the sipahi closed the top half and locked it, trapping her in position. Helpless. The wood base of the stocks went right down to the ground, hiding all of her except her head and hands.

“Ladies!” said the raja. “Gentlemen! You are here today to bear witness to insaf being served! This harlot has conspired to assassinate her king!”

The crowd gasped, delighted.

“No doubt her plan was use her charms to seduce my guards before she killed me in my sleep,” said the raja.

The men in the crowd roared, and there were a few ribald comments about my wife’s “charms”. They were middle managers and IT professionals, men who wouldn’t dream of provoking a lawsuit by making a sexist comment to a woman. After years of frustration, they’d been freed for one day to live in Olde Worlde Delhi, where women were vaishyaes and harlots and had no rights, and they were damn well going to make the most of it. And hey, the woman in the stocks was probably an actress, right? She wouldn’t mind.

“Teach her a lesson, sire!” yelled the men.

“How do you think we should punish her?” the raja asked the crowd.

The men stared at my wife, bent over and helpless, her cleavage readily displayed to them by her position.

“Spank her!” yelled first one, then another and another.

I saw Nandini draw in a huge gasp of shock, even though she’d known what was going to happen. “N—No!” she said, her eyes wide. “No! Please!”

There was a shift in mood when they heard her plead. Every man except me leaned forward over the barrier, mouths hungry, teeth gleaming. “Spank her!” they chanted. “Spank her, spank her!” And though the word they were using was spank, I knew that it wasn’t the word in their minds. I saw wives and girlfriends roll their eyes at the way their men folk were behaving, but they did nothing to stop it. Let him get it out of his system, they must have thought. She’s only some bimbo actress.

“Should I lift her lehenga?” the raja asked.

“YES!” the men roared.

“W—What? No!” my wife wailed, and struggled against the stocks. But her struggles were weak and, as I watched her moving, I noticed something. The holes in the stocks were far bigger than they needed to be—probably as a safety precaution. She could easily pull her hands and head back through the holes and escape if she wanted to. Which meant that she didn’t want to.

The stocks hid both her and the king’s lower bodies from view, but I knew from her horrified expression that he was gathering up her lehenga and lifting it. I imagined her long, shapely legs coming into view and then her ripe, toned ass—

And then I remembered and I went numb. My hands froze, clutching the rope barrier in front of me.

She wasn’t wearing any panties. The guy from the dance tamboo was still holding them. Her lower body was entirely nude, right in front of the raja.

I saw my wife’s face redden as she felt the cool evening air against her naked pussy. Of course, we in the crowd couldn’t see that she was naked. The stocks blocked our view, and we only knew the raja had even lifted her lehenga because he hooked it over the front of the stocks to make the point. But I knew that the raja was feasting his eyes on her upturned rump, and on the lips of her pussy beneath. Nandini waxed herself smooth apart from a landing strip of soft, dark hair just above her pussy. From behind, I knew he’d have a glorious view of her soft, pink folds between those smooth thighs.

I stared at the king’s face, waiting to see the shock as he realized her panties were missing. Maybe he’d stop the whole thing, or at least pull her lehenga down. But he simply smirked, as if he’d been expecting it. How was that possible?

“Bastard!” said a female voice next to me.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 9
I looked across. It was a pretty silky woman in her late twenties, dressed in a vaishya’s outfit. “What?” I asked.

“That’s supposed to be me in there,” the woman said, her tone somewhere between anger and hurt. “It was all planned, and then he went and fetched some bimbo guest!” She sniffed. “Her costume’s not even the right period!”

I followed her gaze...right to the king’s tousled hair and blue eyes. I knew unrequited love when I saw it. I wondered if the guy had any idea...or if he cared. Pretty as she was, the woman wasn’t in the same league as Nandini. Worse, I suspected she knew it. “Bitch,” she almost spat as she looked at my wife. “I hope he damn well leaves marks!”

The raja was raising his hand theatrically high to begin the spanking. My wife started to struggle—or rather non-struggle—anew. “Please!” she begged. “Don’t!” Her eyes had taken on a glazed look. God, she’s really losing herself in it!

“I will give her six,” the raja announced.

His hand descended and even over the roar of the crowd we could clearly hear the sound of it cracking across her ass cheek. Nandini’s eyes snapped wide and she let out a high, shocked cry.

“One!” yelled the crowd.

His hand rose in the air again...and then fell. There was another sharp crack of skin on skin and my wife jumped in pain, her breasts bouncing to the delight of the men in the crowd. “Don’t!” she panted. “Stop!” But her voice was tight and breathy.

“Two!” the crowd roared.

Again the king’s hand flashed down and again my wife jerked. She let out a cry that was almost a moan and her eyes were heavy-lidded now.

“Three!”

The raja had been slightly to the side of my wife, so that he could swing more effectively. Now, though, he moved close in behind her. We couldn’t see exactly what he was doing because the stocks hid our view, but he seemed to be moving his other arm in to touch her....

My wife suddenly gasped, but she didn’t make any sort of protest.

The raja drew back his arm and I saw him lift his hand to look at his fingers. He looked up, searched the crowd, and found me standing by the rope. And he smiled and rubbed the tips of his fingers together.

My stomach seemed to fall a thousand floors. No one else in the crowd would guess what he’d just done, because they didn’t know her panties were missing. But I knew. He’d just reached forward and touched her pussy, running his fingers over her lips. That bastard just touched my wife! It was my dream and my nightmare. I felt my cock stiffen even as anger made my chest go tight. He’s groping her while she’s helpless! And yet he wasn’t. She was no more helpless than I was...she was choosing to stay in the stocks, choosing to along with it. Choosing to let him run his fingers over her most private parts.

And it was more than that. From the way he’d examined his fingers, he’d found her wet. She was loving it…and he knew.

The raja raised his hand again and brought it down. My wife jumped and moaned, her hands twisting in their holes as if she was trying to escape. Her body flexed, her breasts swayed, her mouth was open and panting. She did everything possible to get free...short of simply pulling her hands and head through the too-large holes and standing up.

“Four!” the crowd shouted.

The king’s hand rose into the air. I noticed that his other hand was out of sight again. I couldn’t see what he was doing with it, but I could see my wife’s reaction. Her eyes opened wide and then her eyelids fluttered and finally closed. I looked closer at the raja. The shoulder of the hidden hand was moving. Rhythmically.

I drew in my breath. He was rubbing her. He had his fingers on her or in her, and he was rubbing her while he spanked her.

His hand cracked down again and my wife jerked in the stocks. She let out a long, low moan.

“Five!” shouted the crowd.

The bastard was rubbing my wife’s pussy in front of everyone, and the crowd didn’t even know what they were seeing!

One person was aware, though. One person knew the raja and clearly knew the sorts of games he played. The silky woman next to me was staring at my wife with absolute hatred, tears in her eyes. “Trampy bitch,” she whispered viciously. “She deserves everything she gets!” And she turned and pushed her way out through the crowd.

My wife was gasping and shaking in the stocks as the raja took his time with the final stroke. I could hear her cries getting higher and higher and I realized it was far worse than I’d thought. God, he’s going to make her come! I never agreed to this!

I started trying to force my way through the crowd, to get around to the side of the stocks so that I could speak to my wife, but everyone was gawping and no one wanted to move. I heard Nandini’s breathing change to high little pants, which meant she was close. I’m not going to make it in time!

I imagined his fingers moving faster and faster, maybe rubbing her clit, maybe plunging in and out of her sopping lips. Half of the agony of it was not knowing exactly what he was doing. I’m meant to watch! I’m meant to be there watching it!

Part of me still didn’t believe he’d actually take her over the edge. Someone would guess, I thought desperately. He can’t possibly make her come in public without anyone knowing!

And then I looked around at the crowd and I realized I was being hopelessly naive. The men were all leaning forward, straining to get the best view. They did know, or at least they hoped they were right. They probably loved the idea of a submissive woman orgasming from a spanking. And I could see their wives and girlfriends shrugging and looking away, telling themselves that she was just in pain, or acting, or both. They were all seeing what they wanted to see, and neither group was going to complain about it. I became frantic, pushing people out of the way, trying to get close enough to call to my wife.

Then the raja looked at me, our eyes locking for a second. “Stop!” I mouthed.

I saw him tilt his head to one side, as if considering.

And then he smiled and his arm moved even faster. His other hand rose in the air one final time.

“No!” I moaned.

The king’s hand cracked down against my wife’s ass and she gave a high little squeal that turned into a long, low, breathless groan. I recognized that sound. I’d heard her make it in our bedroom, though never so intensely.

My wife trembled in the stocks and then went limp. The crowd roared. The king’s eyes never left mine for a second, and they shone with victory. I’ve just made your wife come, he was saying.

I wanted to tear his head off. And yet, looking at my wife’s panting, straining body as she’d climaxed for someone else, I’d been harder than I’d ever been.

The show over, the crowd slowly dispersed. I watched as my wife regained her composure and stood up. Just as I’d thought, she didn’t have to wait for the king’s sipahi to lift the top half of the stocks. She simply pulled her hands and head out and straightened up, flipping her lehenga down to cover her. She could have done that at any point. But she wanted it, I thought, outraged. She wanted him to make her come!

As she walked towards me, though, my righteous anger started to waver. I’d got her into all this. I’d wanted to come here, and I’d convinced her to wear the outfit. I’d told her it was okay to have fun with other men.

She took my hand. She was smiling, but I could see the doubt in her eyes. “Wow,” she said. “That was...wow. It...was okay, right? I mean...we’re okay?”

My only mistake was in letting the situation go too far, and in being too far away to tell her to stop. That was my fault, not hers. If I got angry with her now, it would mean the end of all our games. I’d kill the whole thing just as it was getting going. And, ultimately, no harm had been done, except to my pride.

“Yes,” I lied. “Yes, it was fine.” Then, to make it sound more convincing, I added, “I loved it!”

That was too much. Her face lit up and I immediately cursed myself. “Really? Oh, thank God. I thought I’d gone too far.” She blushed. “I...sort of got carried away again.”

The raja chose that moment to walk over and join us. “Well,” he said. “That was fun.” And he gave Nandini’s waist a little squeeze in a way I didn’t like at all.

I wanted to kill him, but I knew that, if I got angry at him, Nandini would think she’d done something wrong. “Yeah,” I said.

“Thank you for letting Nandini play the role,” the raja told me. “It’s great that you’re happy for her to...enjoy herself.”

Nandini blushed. Then, maybe to cover her embarrassment, she said, “Oh, Rishab loves to see me with other men.”

Shit! That wasn’t true! Well, not exactly. Not with in the way she meant it…that sounded like she meant full-blown sex! But it was too late.

“Oh, really?” asked the king, amused. “One of those.” He said it knowingly. One of what?!

“Well, anyway...we should be going,” I said. “The nauchandi will be closing soon.”

“Oh, but you can’t leave yet,” said the raja smoothly. “There’s the closing procession still to come. And I’d like Nandini to be part of it, after she played her role so well.”

Nandini drew in her breath, as if that would be the greatest honor in the world. “Really?!”

I stared at her. Only that morning, she’d still been skeptical of the whole Mughal-e-azam nauchandi idea. But I knew this had nothing to do with the nauchandi itself. This was about him, with his grizzled jaw and blue eyes, with his pecs that stretched out his shirt and his tight pants. And it was about her, and what she’d discovered about herself, the feelings that overtook her when someone tied her hands or held her wrists. I thought of her alone with the king, maybe for an hour or more, while the procession wound its way around the nauchandi.

“No,” I said firmly. “I think I need to spend some time with my wife.”

“That’s no problem,” the raja said. “I’d like you to be part of the procession, too, to thank you for being such a good sport. I even have a costume for you.”

Nandini beamed. “Oh, will you, Rishab ? It’d be great!”

I looked between them. It was ridiculous, but I felt suddenly outnumbered. “We can stay together?” I asked. “Right by her side?”

“Right by her side,” said the king, giving me a slightly patronizing smile. “And afterwards, since you were in the procession, you get to come to the crew party.”

I very nearly said No. There was just something about the king, something cold and cruel in his eyes that I didn’t like. But...despite everything that had gone wrong, the day had been a huge step forward in getting what I wanted. I knew that now, I’d be able to get my wife to dress up and tease men much more easily. And now that I knew about her love of being tied up and made to feel helpless, maybe we could even play some of those games ourselves.

Already, I was starting to rationalize the things that she’d done. I’d never want another man to touch her the way the raja had, but feeling her breasts, maybe kissing...that had been kind of okay. It had gone too far, but it could have been much worse. And I knew that the day had stocked up Nandini’s library of fantasies for years to come—I was even considering trying to buy the vaishya outfit from the costumier so she could wear it for me in the bedroom. Overall, the day was a positive. And I needed Nandini to end it on a high, not a low, so that she would be open to teasing men in the future. The last thing I wanted to do was have her spend any more time with the king, but it didn’t seem like I had any choice.

I’ll be right by her side, I thought. It’ll be fine.

“Okay,” I said.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 10
We were back in the costumier’s tamboo and I was looking doubtfully at the mask. I’d seen madaris before, in books. The red outfit wasn’t a surprise, though the colors were darker and less garish than I’d expected. But the mask was something else...its face was twisted into a cackling grin, the mouth and chin elongated. It was part madari, part devil. And though there were tiny holes for my eyes and nostrils, the mouth was completely closed off.

“You’ll get used to it,” said the raja. “It’s a tradition that the madari isn’t allowed to speak, only caper and prance.”

I tried the mask on. It was a little hot and uncomfortable at first but, once I got used to breathing through my nose, it wasn’t so bad. And, I had to admit as I looked in the mirror, I looked sort of badass. When the raja had said I’d play the madari, I’d thought it was another way to humiliate me, but this madari was cool—funny and evil at the same time. I spoke to my wife, but it was useless. My lips were smooshed up against thick rubber and the rubber was thick enough that it muffled my garbled words.

“What?” asked Nandini.

I took the mask off. “I’ll be right beside you,” I said seriously. “If anything happens...I’ll tap your arm if I want you to stop, okay? And I’ll stroke your arm if it’s okay to keep going.”

She nodded. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she said, blushing slightly. “It’s just a parade.”

“We keep the costumes on for the party,” said the raja. “It’s a tradition.”

How am I going to have a drink with this thing on? I wondered. But Nandini seemed to love the idea. I could see her eyes light up at the idea of partying dressed as a vaishya…and with all the men around her dressed up, too. I’m going to have to keep a really careful eye on her, I thought, already beginning to regret my decision.

“Ready?” asked the raja. “It’s time.”

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 11
The procession was fun. Night had fallen and the route was lit by flaming torches, making everything look even more authentically mughal era. Nandini rode atop the king’s white charger at the head of the procession, the two of them waving to the crowd, and I capered alongside. Behind us, rows of the king’s sipahi, dressed in shining armor. Behind them, nobles, then the vaishyaes and common folk. Nandini and I were the only people there who weren’t part of the official crew. All the other guests were lining the route to watch.

I remembered my comment to Nandini, when I’d first suggested the nauchandi—It’ll be like Disneyland for grown-ups. And it was like that. For the first time in my life, I understood what it was like to be an entertainer, to be the one receiving the applause, and it was great. I was actually glad of the mask. Nandini, for all her shyness and blushes, seemed to take quite naturally to waving to the crowd, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. But with the mask on, I almost became a different person. Something about hiding my face made it easier to let myself go. I jumped and bounced alongside the horse, waving my arms to get the crowd going like a sports team mascot. I found I was actually having fun.

It helped that the raja seemed to be behaving himself. He was pressed right up behind my wife, close enough that I knew she could probably feel his cock against her ass again, but he didn’t seem to be actually trying to paw her. He’d put his hands on her sides to steady her, or wrap an arm around her waist while he waved with the other, but there was nothing that bothered me. In fact, it was exactly the sort of thing that turned me on—he was lusting after my wife, but he couldn’t do much about it, probably because a thousand eyes were on him. I was going to be the one to take her home at the end of the day. I’m definitely going to buy that vaishya’s outfit, I thought proudly.

By the time the procession finished, I almost didn’t want it to end. As Nandini slid down from the horse, she asked, “Glad we stayed? You looked like you were really getting into it.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s weird, but the mask makes it easier to let go.”

The raja interrupted. “That’s normal. A lot of guys find that.”

I blinked at him. I’d just been talking about the procession, not anything to do with our games. But Nandini nodded solemnly, as if anything the raja said must be full of wisdom.

“Come on,” the raja said. “Let’s get to the party.”

As the guests filed out of the site, the crew all made for the dance tamboo. People were rolling in barrels of ale and carrying bottles of mead, and musicians were bringing their instruments. I started to relax. Once I got inside, no doubt they’d relax the costume tradition a little and I’d be able to take the mask off. And then I could kick back with my wife and spend some time together. We’d be able to explore on my terms: maybe she’d tease another man or maybe we’d just enjoy the party together, lying on that big pile of cushions. It was going to be great!

The entrance to the tamboo was quite small, and there were a lot of people trying to get in. The raja let my wife go on ahead, but then hung back a little to let some people past. The result was that my wife was separated from us. I saw her realize too late and look back at me nervously, but I grinned to reassure her and waved at her to go in. She knew that she wasn’t to do anything without me there—I’d made that very clear. And besides, the raja wasn’t with her; he was still outside, with me.

The raja rolled his eyes at the crowd of people in front of us. “There’s a back way in,” he told me. “Let’s use that.”

Nandini had already disappeared through the entrance. I wanted to catch up with her, so I nodded.

He led me around the side of the dance tamboo, away from all the people. There was another tamboo beside it and the two came quite close together, so we had to pick our way carefully over guy ropes—not easy, in the dark, and even harder when you’re trying to see through tiny eyeholes in a mask.

“Wait,” the raja said suddenly. “Stop there.”

I stopped, thinking I was about to trip over something. And then he pushed me hard, sending me staggering sideways through a flap in the next door tamboo.

I went down, sprawling on the ground. I cried out, but the mask made an effective gag and, besides, the music had started in the dance tamboo. No one in there would be able to hear me.

Hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me to my feet, and then the mask was dragged over my head. More hands began to strip the rest of the madari costume off me.

I was more shocked than angry. “What the hell?!” I asked. I tried to turn around, but hard hands had grabbed my arms. “What are you doing? Let me get back to Nandini!”

The raja had ducked through the flap to follow me and now he straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. “Don’t worry,” he told me. “Nandini won’t be alone for long.”

I didn’t like the mocking way he said that. I opened my mouth to protest, but something was suddenly shoved inside it—it felt like a hard, rubber ball. Straps pulled tight across my cheeks and I felt them cinch tighter, then relax just a little. I tried to force the thing out of my mouth and couldn’t—they’d buckled it behind my head!

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 12
“We thought that costume wasn’t appropriate for you,” said the raja. “You see, the madari, while a fool, is a randy fellow. We thought a monk would suit you better…since you won’t be getting any, tonight.”

I shouted for help, but the ball pressed my tongue to the bottom of my mouth, making it impossible to form words, and muffling the sounds I did make. I struggled, but there were too many people holding me. The madari outfit was off me, now, leaving me in my underwear. My arms were forced in front of me and my wrists tied together. Then my ankles were tied together, leaving me with a short length that meant I could shuffle along, but not walk or run. Finally, my wrists and ankles were tied together with just enough rope between them that I could stoop, but not stand.

They pulled a dark brown hooded robe over my shoulders, fastening it at the front to hide my bound wrists. When they flipped the hood up, my face was plunged into deep shadow. I really did look like a monk—an old, silent monk, stooped and shuffling as he went about his prayers.

I still didn’t understand. Was this just to humiliate me? Were they going to send me back to the party like this? Nandini would un-gag me and then we’d leave. It would be a short-lived prank.

Now that I no longer needed to be held, the hands released me and, as they all walked around in front of me, I got to see who it was. The guy who’d danced with Nandini in the dance tamboo, and the lohar who’d kissed her. I suddenly knew why the raja had been riding around looking for her, and how he’d known that she was “adventurous.” They’d had their eye on her all day.

“You see,” said the king, “We like Nandini. We really do. And it’s been a long nauchandi and we’re all ready for some fun. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do, Rishab . We’re going to have some fun with her.”

I moaned and shook my head.

“Oh no, you see: we are,” said the raja. He smirked. “We really, really are.”

Another person walked around from behind me. He was about my height, and looked to be younger than the rest. I didn’t recognize him…but I recognized what he was wearing.

He was wearing the madari outfit. And when he slid the mask over his head, he looked just like me.

It finally dawned on me what they were planning and I took a hopeless, shuffling step towards him, almost going flat on my face. The madari laughed and stepped nimbly out of the way.

“You see, all Nandini needs is reassurance,” the raja said. “She just needs to know that it’s okay, that you won’t be angry at her in the morning.” He grinned. “Nick here will give her that. It does mean that he has to pretend to be you all night, but don’t worry—I’ll have someone swap with him at some point so he can have his turn.”

His turn?! Oh God…he couldn’t seriously mean—

The raja leaned close to me. “Nandini said that you loved seeing her with other men. Well, this is going to be a treat for you. You get to see her fucked all…night…long.”

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 13
My eyes bulged. I dived at the king, but he just laughed and caught me under the arms, throwing an arm around my waist and hauling me along as if I was his buddy. “Come on,” he told the others. “Before she wonders where her husband is.”

We walked as a group: the king, the lohar, the dancer, the madari and me. I struggled frantically, but with my robes covering my bound hands and my hood pulled up, it just looked as if I was drunkenly tottering around. We went back through the flap in the tamboo, around to the back of the dance tamboo and in through the promised rear entrance.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Musician s were jamming together, never fewer than six at a time, and in the confined space you could barely hear someone speak, even right next to you. The pile of cushions was still there, and around the edges of the tamboo were barrels of ale, bottles of mead and tables of food. The center of the tamboo was full of people dancing, all still in costume, and people were already getting more amorous now that the guests had gone.

Almost immediately, I saw Nandini standing by herself on the other side of the tamboo, smiling nervously. I saw her refuse a dance from a hopeful suitor and my hopes rose. Then the madari pranced towards her and, as she saw him, she grinned.

It’s not me! I thought desperately. I shouted as loudly as I could but, between the gag and the music, it was useless. The men held me back by the shoulders, keeping me well out of range. In the shadowy, candlelit gloom, I could have been anyone.

The madari though, was the same height as me and dressed identically to how Nandini had last seen me, and he’d appeared just as she’d expected me to appear. Why wouldn’t she think it was me? I watched as she hugged the madari and tickled his elongated chin.

“Sweet,” the raja whispered in my ear. “What a sweet, naïve little wife you have. You know, Rishab , when I felt her pussy quiver against my fingers out there in the stocks, I knew I had to feel it with my cock. I had to sink it into her and see how warm and tight she was—I just had to. So thank you for letting me—us—have her.” He hesitated. “I was going to say we’ll take good care of her, but…well, it seems Nandini does rather like being tied up, doesn’t she? So I suspect we’ll have to do that—after all, we want her to have a good time. So ‘good care’ doesn’t seem appropriate.”

I was going insane by this point, thrashing and twisting in his grasp, but he held me easily by the waist. While he whispered in my ear, my eyes were locked on Nandini and the madari. He was dancing with her now, rubbing his crotch against her ass, and she was laughing and grinning.

“I could say, ‘we’ll return her as we found her,’” said the raja. “But…that doesn’t sound right, either. I’m not sure she will be quite the same, Rishab .” His voice was dripping with sarcastic concern. “I’m afraid we may just change her forever,” he told me. “Still, I can guarantee that you will get her back.” He slapped me on the back. “That’s something, eh?”

I screamed through the gag and the three men roared with laughter. The dancer fetched a low bench and set it along the wall of the tamboo, facing the pile of cushions but a good distance from it. This was to be my position, I realized. Sitting on the sidelines, too far away to attract her attention but close enough to watch.

“Keep him company,” the raja said to the other two. “I’m going to get her warmed up.”

My stomach lurched. Him taunting me was one thing, but the thought of what he might do with my wife….I bucked and struggled again, but the lohar and the dancer both laid comforting hands on my shoulders, pressing me down into my seat. “There, there,” said the lohar in my ear. “Time to watch how a real man does it.”

I was too far away to hear their words, so the next fifteen minutes were like a silent movie.

First, the raja approached the madari. I saw him asking permission, and the madari look at Nandini questioningly. She bit her lip and I thought, No! Don’t do it! If Nandini said no, then the whole thing would be over.

But Nandini nodded. And the madari made a she’s all yours gesture to the raja. My stomach twisted into knots.

I watched as the raja led Nandini out into the middle of the tamboo and started to dance with her. At first it was just dancing, a semi-formal dance a little like the one we’d done earlier. I noticed, though, how he took the opportunity to press his body against hers whenever they were together, grinding his crotch into her ass, or pressing her breasts to his muscled chest. Even worse than the touching, though, was that Nandini was doing her best to play by the rules. She kept looking at the madari for confirmation, and each time he’d nod his approval.

As the music got faster, the couples started to touch more. Apparently this was some sort of tradition amongst the crew, because I could see them all grinning at one another as partners clasped each other closer and closer, and hands began to leave waists and move to asses and breasts. I watched in horror as the raja pulled Nandini to him, her back against his chest, and slowly ran his hands up her front, passing over her thighs, her waist…and then her breasts. I watched Nandini gasp as the firm flesh was pressed up and together, almost escaping her dress. But the madari was there to nod at her, and she smiled up at the king, clearly aroused. Damnit! With the madari to keep telling her it was okay, she was only going to be limited by her own boundaries…and I had no idea where those lay.

The song ended and the raja led Nandini from the dance floor and over to the pile of cushions. I saw the lohar lean forward eagerly and knew with awful certainty that the raja was going to move things to the next level. I watched him plump down next to her, the pile of cushions so deep that they both actually bounced a little as they landed. He started by putting an arm around her, just talking, probably telling her how beautiful she was. How lucky she was to have a husband who understood her needs, who’d let her have fun. I saw Nandini look adoringly up at the madari and nod.

I was actually shaking with anger. Beside me, the lohar and the dancer had their muscled arms wrapped around my shoulders, pinning me to the bench.

I still couldn’t hear the words, but I saw the conversation get slower and slower, turning into long, meaningful looks and soft, casual touches. They were almost lying on the cushions now, facing each other, the madari behind the raja so that he could nod his approval to my wife. The raja would reach across and brush a lock of hair from Nandini’s face, or she’d touch his arm to make a point, and I could see them both getting more and more worked up, careening towards the inevitable.

And then it happened. The raja leaned forward just a little and my wife was instantly mimicking him, her eyes closing, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. The lohar nudged me hard in the side with his elbow, as if I could possibly have missed it—

They kissed. First tentatively, then long and deep. The king’s hands started to run up my wife’s arms, rubbing in little circles, higher and higher, until they reached her shoulders. Then they tracked down her chest, his fingertips just lightly skimming over her breasts, tracing their shape, until I saw her shift and twist and press herself closer to him. He grinned as he took her breasts in both hands and squeezed.

I noticed that she didn’t open her eyes the entire time. Not until he started to run his hand up her leg, under her lehenga.

The raja leaned forward and said something to her, and I saw her bite her lip and look around, then up at the madari. The madari leaned in close and stroked her arm: the signal that it was okay with “me” to keep going.

Nandini nodded. The raja helped her up and, taking her by the hand, led her out of the rear entrance, the madari following. I thrashed and twisted frantically on the bench. What was going on? Where was he taking her? What had she just agreed to?

“Don’t worry,” said the lohar in my ear. “You’re coming, too.” And he and the dancer hauled me up and followed the raja.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 14
My escorts towed me along between them, my feet barely touching the ground. As we moved farther and farther from the rest of the crew, I began to really panic. In the tamboo, there’d at least been other people around to stop it going too far. Out here, anything could happen.

Clouds kept passing in front of the moon, leaving us in near-total darkness. We were soon well away from the nauchandi itself, on some of the adjoining land, shielded from the tamboos by a thick screen of trees. We seemed to be heading towards a fire.

Ahead of us, far enough that they were out of earshot of my pathetic attempts at shouting, the raja and Nandini strolled as happily as lovers, her head resting on his shoulder. And the madari walked just beside them, occasionally rubbing Nandini’s shoulder to reassure her that her husband was right there with her, and it was all perfectly okay.

It’s not okay! I screamed inside my mind. It’s not okay at all!

The fire turned out to be at one edge of a patch of lush, green grass, its light and the intermittent moonlight providing enough light to see what happened in the center of the patch. That was to be the stage, I guessed, and the fire was for the audience.

My suspicions were confirmed when the lohar and the dancer sat down beside the fire, pushing me roughly to the ground between them. As before, they put their arms around my shoulders, pressing down on my back to hold me in place. Meanwhile, the raja led Nandini to the center of the patch of grass. With the crackle and spit of the fire right beside me, the low noises I could make through the gag were utterly drowned out.

I could hear them, though—my wife and the raja. They were talking, and the madari was right there beside the raja throughout, as if to vouch for what he was saying.

“I brought us out here,” said the king, “so we could have some privacy from the rest of the crew. These blokes”—he indicated the lohar and dancer—“won’t do anything…not unless you want them to. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Rishab , here,” said the king, indicating the madari, “is okay with you having fun, and he’ll stop you if he feels it’s going too far.”

I’m not! I yelled. I’m not okay with it! But the gag reduced my shouts to pathetic grunts and the lohar and dancer laughed.

“It’s all up to you, Nandini,” said the raja. “The power’s in your hands. Tell us what you want.”

He had no interest in forcing her, I realized. He wanted her to want it, wanted her groaning and begging for it. He’s miscalculated, I thought, my hopes rising. Nandini was shy—she surely wouldn’t go much further than kissing, not the first time. I saw her bite her lip, saw her shuffle her feet nervously. She’s going to back out, I thought. She’s going to back out and go back to the nauchandi, and they’ll have to abandon the whole thing.

“Could you….” Nandini said, and then muttered something I couldn’t hear.

“I’m sorry?” asked the raja. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Could you….” The moon broke through the clouds, and I could see her beautiful face lit up clearly for a second. “Could you…tie me up?”

There were low chuckles from the lohar and the dancer. My blood ran cold. I’d forgotten about Nandini’s secret need, but it changed everything. God, if they tied her up…. It wasn’t that if they tied her up, they could do anything to her. That was true, but none of them showed any interest in taking her against her will. It was almost the opposite: if they role played with her and gave her that feeling of helplessness, she’d get so horny she’d do anything. Any boundaries she had would disappear.

No! I pleaded. Don’t do it!

“Tie you up?” asked the king, his Bengali accent painting the air with silver. “Tie you up…I suppose that we could. Are you sure, Nandini? I mean, that’s pretty kinky stuff. You should only do those things with people you really trust.”

Reverse psychology, I thought. God, he’s going to get her to persuade him!

“I could have a safeword,” said Nandini quickly. “I could say, ‘Lion,’ if I want you to really stop.”

I was reeling. Safeword?! Since when did she know about things like safewords? God, what had she been reading?

“And we could—you know—role play it,” said Nandini. “If that’s okay.”

“Role play it?” The raja chuckled. “You’ve really got into this, haven’t you, Nandini?”

My wife blushed and looked at her feet, but nodded. I could see that she was breathing faster, just thinking about it.

“That’s one kinky bitch you have there,” whispered the lohar to me.

“What did you have in mind?” asked the raja.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 15
I saw Nandini swallow. “Well, I’m meant to be a daaku maiden, so I could have snuck ashore, like you said earlier, to, um—assassinate you, and you want to know where my ship is, and I, um…”—she shifted her feet, ashamed—“I won’t tell you.”

“Are you asking me,” said the raja in a disbelieving voice, “to interrogate you?”

I actually saw the tremor run through my wife’s body as he said the words. She nodded.

A slow grin spread across the king’s face and my heart sank. “I think I can bring myself to do that,” he said with a wry smile. “So your safeword is lion?”

“Lion,” said my wife firmly.

“And unless you say that, I can do whatever I want to you to make you tell me?”

I saw Nandini’s breathing quicken. She nodded.

No! I thought. God, no! He was going to strip her, humiliate her, fuck her…do who knows what to her, right in front of me. And the worst part was, she wanted it all.

“You should have a signal, too,” the raja told her. “In case you can’t talk.”

She blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be able to—” She saw the king’s smile and drew in her breath. “Oh!”

“How about you tap three times if you want to stop?” said the raja. “Even with your hands tied, you can tap your fingers together.”

My wife nodded, her eyes wide.

The raja took a strip of leather from a pocket and held it up in front of my wife. She swallowed and gave him her slender wrists to bind.

Over by the fire, I was going out of my mind as I watched my wife offer herself up to be taken. Already, I could see that she was breathing faster, almost panting with arousal. She was going to let him do whatever he wanted, enjoy every second of pleasure, and in her mind it would be okay because she was “helpless.”

The raja bound her wrists together in front of her. I saw Nandini gently test her bonds and then pull more firmly, drawing in a shuddering breath as she luxuriated in the feeling of being securely tied.

Why did she never tell me?! I thought. We could have played all sorts of games at home. I could have tied her up and been all dominant and commanding—

A little voice inside me told me that wasn’t really true. There was something different about the raja and the lohar and the dancer. They had something I didn’t. And maybe that’s what had gotten us into all this…that I’d been somehow lacking. Is that why I’d wanted to see other guys lust after her in the first place? Had I known, subconsciously, that they could give her something I couldn’t? God, this is all my fault!

“And let’s just check with Rishab ,” said the king, and I was so deeply into my self-hate that I forgot, and actually jerked my head up, thinking he was going to ask me. But of course he turned to his friend in the madari costume. “Are you sure you’re okay with your wife role playing this scene with me—and with anyone else she chooses to involve?”

The madari hesitated for a second, just to make it look realistic. Then he nodded firmly and stroked my wife’s upper arm.

Doesn’t she think it’s weird that I don’t take the mask off? I thought. But then a memory crushed me with its weight. “The mask makes it easier to let go,” I’d told her. I’d meant dancing around in the procession, but the raja had followed it up with, “That’s normal. A lot of guys find that.”

Nandini probably thought I was keeping the mask on because it distanced me, made it easier to be there watching her with another man. Given that, it made perfect sense for me to keep it on.

The raja smiled. “Well then. It appears we’re ready. Are you sure you want to do this, Nandini?”

My wife gulped and nodded.

The raja turned away for a second, getting into character. “vaishya!” he roared. “You think you can defy me? That you can steal into my chambers to poison me?” He seized her bound wrists and jerked her roughly towards him. “I have brought you here, far from the palace, so that I may extract the truth from you. You will tell me where your comrades are anchored!”

My wife non-struggled against him. “Never!”

The king’s lip curled. “Very well,” he told her. “You leave me no choice!” And he put a hand in the center of her chest and shoved her to the ground.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 15
My wife yelped as she fell, but the grass was soft and she landed unhurt on her back. Immediately, the raja was atop her, one hand pinning her bound wrists to the cool grass, the other tracing the curves of her body.

“What—What do you mean to do to me?” gasped my wife.

“You will betray your friends and give me their location,” he told her with a snarl, “so that I may have the pleasure of watching my sipahi slay them. “Or I will get my pleasure from you another way.”

My wife gasped as if horrified. “No!”

“Yes, my dear. Tell me, or I’ll take you here on the ground like a cheap Randi.”

My wife thrashed her head from side to side on the ground as if lost in inner turmoil. “I—I can’t! I’ll never tell!”

The king’s hands were running down her chest, cupping her breasts through her dress. “Then your body will pay for their freedom!”

My wife non-struggled beneath him, drumming her heels on the ground. “You—You brute!”

The raja laughed cruelly. “I’ll give you one last chance. Talk!”

My wife’s chest heaved…but she stayed silent.

“Very well, then,” said the raja. “Let us see what charms you offer.” And he jerked down the top of my wife’s dress. I watched, open-mouthed, as her breasts were bared, the cool night air or her fervent arousal making the pink nipples stiffen. As my wife thrashed and twisted beneath him, her breasts bounced and shook.

Both the lohar and the dancer gasped in awe. “That,” said the lohar, “was worth waiting for.”

The raja immediately started to fondle her breasts, squeezing them hard, then rubbing at her nipples with his thumbs. My wife moaned in pleasure—helpless pleasure, which I knew was the whole point of this—her head tipping back, her teeth gritted.

“You like this,” the raja told her. “You little Randi.”

My wife bucked and twisted and thrashed under him, although never hard enough as to risk actually throwing him off. I watched as he lowered his face toward her breasts.

No! There was something about that, something about seeing another man lick her there. That had always been one of my favorite things. I couldn’t let him! I tried to stand but, with the heavy arms of the two men pressing down on my back, I didn’t move even an inch.

“Don’t even think about it,” the lohar told me. “You wouldn’t want to stop her fun, would you? Look how into it she is.”

The dancer shook his head and chuckled. “They’re all the same. Powerful in the confenaice room, but they just want to be ravished in the bedroom.”

I shot a look at him. How had he known Nandini was a business executive? And she was all high-powered and commanding in the office. But she’d never shared her submissive side…not with me.

The dancer shook his head wistfully. “Wish it was me licking her tits. Should have just gone ahead and fucked her in the dance tamboo.”

I snapped my head round to look at my wife. The raja was just stretching his tongue out, silhouetted in the moonlight, to taste her nipple. The hatred rose in me as I watched the tip make contact with the hard little nub, then begin to swirl around and around it. And at the same time, I felt something else, something entirely unbidden. A prickling, tightening sensation in my cock.

I was getting hard, watching it. Despite the way they were deceiving her, despite my humiliation, despite my fear at what they might do to her while she was lost in her arousal, the sight of my wife being…ravaged by these men, even if it was only play-ravaging, was turning me on. Part of me wanted the raja to take her. God, no! That’s too far! That’s way too far!

My wife moaned as his tongue started to work at the firm flesh of her breasts, pushing into the soft skin in large circles, spiraling in towards the nipples. Then he crushed her breasts together with his hands, squeezing them into a sumptuous cleavage.

“You have the breasts of a tavern vaishya,” he told her. “Is that what you were, before you Randi yourself out to the daakus?”

“N—No!” His cruel words seemed to be increasing her arousal even more. “I—I am a nobleman’s daughter!”

“A likely story,” said the raja. And his mouth descended on her breasts, taking as much of one into his mouth as possible, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, his tongue lashing around and around. My wife’s back arched in ecstasy.

When he finally lifted his mouth from her, my wife’s breasts were wetly shining. “No nobleman’s daughter responds like that,” he taunted. “More likely you occupied the upstairs room in a tavern, taking travelers between your thighs for a few coins each.”

“No! I—I lived in a fine house. I would never sell myself!”

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 16
The raja sneered. Even in my hatred for him, I had to admit that he was a fine actor. His thumbs started to rub her hardened, shining nipples. “And what would a nobleman’s daughter from a fine house be doing on a ship full of daakus?”

She gasped and writhed as the pleasure coursed through her. “I—I am in love with the sardar! I left my life of luxury to be with him!”

My jaw dropped. She had an entire little fantasy world all worked out! How had I never known this?

The raja took one wet nipple between his finger and thumb. “A tale of true love. How sweet.” He closed his fingers just enough to make her gasp. “And now, you will betray your darling sardar.”

“N—Never!”

His fingers closed a little more and she groaned in pain and pleasure. He squeezed harder. Harder.

“Never!” She bucked and thrashed. My God, I thought, she’s almost coming! “NEVER!”

The raja opened his fingers and smiled. “Then I’ll sample your other charms.” He lifted himself from her body and began to haul up her lehenga.

“No!” She writhed beneath him, but this only made it easier for him to pull the lehenga from beneath her. “No, do not bare me! Don’t you dare!”

But the raja kept going. Her pale calves were exposed, then her smooth thighs…and then, as he yanked the dress up from under her ass and bundled it around her hips, we saw her smooth mons, with just the tiny strip of dark hair leading down to her pussy.

The raja laughed. “Some nobleman’s daughter! You wear no underclothes!”

My wife turned her head to the side as if mortified. “A—A handsome rogue ripped them from me at a formal dance!”

Next to me, the dancer smirked.

“A likely tale,” said the raja. “More likely you left them behind when you fled from your latest customer, having relieved him of his seed and his purse.”

The raja was working her expertly, I saw, his silver tongue helping him find his way into every little nook and cranny of her psyche. I’d never known, in all the years that I’d been with her, that she secretly wanted to be talked to like a Randi, while stnaiuously denying it. Yet he’d figured it out in the space of an afternoon.

“No!” gasped my wife. “I—I am not a Randi!”

“Really?” asked the raja. He placed his hands on her thighs and pushed her legs apart. She groaned and tried to close them again, pushing weakly against his insistamboo hands. “Let’s find out. Let us see if you moan like a Randi.” He unbuckled her weapons belt and pulled it from her, then broke the zip tie that held the dagger in its scabbard. He drew the weapon and its metal blade flashed in the moonlight.

I gave a strangled scream and tried to stand again, sure that he was going to stab her, but the lohar and dancer pulled me back down to the bench. “He’s not going to hurt her,” the dancer told me.

The raja was showing the dagger to my wife, who was staring up at it with huge eyes. As we watched, he turned it in his hand, reversing his grip so that he held the blade, and the rounded metal pommel was pointing outward.

No! I moaned silently.

“No,” said my wife, the lust in her eyes saying yes.

“Yes,” said the raja. “Let us see if you sound like a nobleman’s daughter when this touches you.” And he moved down between her spread thighs, edging the cold metal closer and closer to her waxed-smooth labia.

At the first touch, she sucked in air through her clenched teeth. The pommel was thick, heavy metal and I knew it would take some time to warm up. Against warm, sensitive flesh, flesh that was probably already wet, it must have felt like being touched by ice.

The raja began to move the rounded end of the pommel, tracing it up along the length of her lips, then down the other side. Again and again he made the circuit, stopping to rub gently against her hidden nub each time he reached the top.

My wife’s eyes closed. She bit her lip and twisted her head to one side. She made no sound, but I could see her hips beginning to move, circling a tiny amount.

“Already,” the raja said, “I can see that you were lying. Your quim moistens just like a Randi’s.”

“You—You foul creature!” my wife panted. “How dare you!”

“Let us see what it does when it’s parted by a cock made of steel,” the raja said.

“W—What? No! Don’t do that!” But she didn’t say lion, or tap out. She just lay there weakly thrashing beneath him. I noticed that he was no longer holding her bound wrists to the ground, but she still held them there firmly, as if he was.

I saw the dagger move forward and, as the moon broke through the clouds again, I could actually see her shining folds as he pushed it slowly between them. My wife let out a long, low moan as the chill metal penetrated her, her heated flesh silken-smooth around it “Ahhh!” she groaned.

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 17
The raja began to thrust with the dagger, entering her only the few inches the pommel allowed. His strokes were slow and sensual, designed to create pleasure rather than give pain, and he continued for long minutes as my wife panted and moaned. “Just as I thought,” the raja said. “You’re no nobleman’s daughter. Just a cheap. Little. Randi.” He punctuated each word with a thrust and my wife let out a high, pleasure-filled moan with each one.

When he withdrew the dagger, the pommel was shining and her soft pink folds gaped apart a little. “It would appear the Randi is ready for her customer,” he told her, his voice like a cold, silver whip. And then he lowered his britches.

“No!” she gasped as his cock sprang out. It hung silhouetted in the moonlight, and the size of it made me gasp. It was both longer and thicker than my own. God, he couldn’t shove that thing inside her! It would destroy her!

The raja held the shaft in one hand, brandishing it like a weapon. “See what I have for you, vaishya. Is that bigger than your beloved daaku sardar’s?”

For just a second, my wife glanced up at the madari she thought was me. I saw her blush, and I died inside a little.

The raja laughed. “Your quim is begging me to plunge this into you,” he told her. “And I shall, if you do not reveal the location of your ship.”

Nandini was panting, eyes gleaming. I could tell she was completely lost in her own little world, all her fantasies coming true. “I shall not!” she said bravely. “I shall never betray him!”

“Very well,” said the king, and knelt between her legs. My eyes bulged as I saw the naked head of him bump up against her slickened lips. He wasn’t stopping to put on a condom! I yanked as hard as I could against the rope binding my hands, but it was useless. I tried to signal to my two escorts.

“What?” asked the lohar. He followed my gaze to the king’s cock. “Oh. Well, they didn’t have condoms in those days, did they? Is Nandini on the pill?”

I shook my head wildly.

“Well, you’ll just have to hope for the best then.”

My eyes grew wide as I saw the raja plant his hands either side of my wife’s head, his cock just nudging her entrance open. God, no!

“Please!” my wife called out suddenly. “Please, sire, don’t take my maidenhood!”

The raja stopped, and I could tell he was genuinely astonished.

In her fantasy, she’s a virgin, I realized. Ravaged by the raja. God, my wife was even kinkier than I thought. If only she’d told me!

The king, though, was used to improvising. “A virgin?” he sneered. “I don’t think so. What of your daaku sardar?” He kept his cock right where it was, rubbing and teasing at her soft folds without quite entering her.

“He is a gentleman,” my wife panted. Her eyes were glazed. “Others know him only as a devilish rogue, but he shows a tender side to me. We share a bed, but he will not take me until we are married.”

“Doesn’t sound like any outlaw I’ve heard of,” said the raja. “I think it more likely that you’re a Randi.”

“No!” begged my wife, twisting her hips as if trying to stop him entering her, but being careful to keep contact with his cock the whole time. “No, I am a virgin, sire!”

The raja suddenly stopped and smiled. Then he reached down and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Do you know,” he said, “I think I actually believe you. I think you really are a virgin.”

My wife went limp on the grass as if relieved.

“That will make this all the sweeter,” said the raja.

“W—What?! No! No!” begged my wife. But she didn’t say lion. And when the raja reached down and spread her thighs wider, bending her knees so that she was even more open to him, she didn’t resist. He leaned over her and pinned her bound wrists to the ground with one hand. With the other, he cupped her cheek.

Doesn’t she realize he doesn’t have a condom on?! I thought. But I knew what was happening. She was lost in her Mughal fantasy, and condoms didn’t feature in it. She was the helpless virgin, about to be taken by the handsome king, having sacrificed her honor to save her true love. She was immersed in the role play and she was relying on me to stop her going too far…and I wasn’t there.

I saw my wife glance up at the madari one last time, to check that it was all okay. And I saw him nod and stroke her shoulder in approval.