Chapter 8: Onan’s Bride

Anuja looked down at the clutter on her nuptial bed. Over a dozen dildoes, vibrators, and sheaths of different shapes, colours, and sizes were scattered across its expanse. She looked at her handsome bridegroom waiting expectantly at the foot of the bed.

“So. Let me get this straight. You want to watch me masturbate?” Her voice was flat and even.

“Yes.”

“So that you can video-tape me?”

“Yes.”

“On our wedding night? On our honeymoon?”

“Yes.”

Anuja smiled sarcastically. “Tell me, what shall I use? A dildo? A vibrator? Or just my fingers?”

“Whatever you like.”

“Anything else you have in mind that I should know about? Tell me now before I get my hopes up.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Not much chance of that now, is there?”

Anuja tossed aside the sheaths. That left her with four dildoes of different sizes, the smallest not less than eight inches long, and three large vibrators. She looked up at Avinash, arching her eyebrow questioningly. He nodded.

“Yes. Fine. Begin on my call. Take your time.”

Anuja closed her eyes. She could hardly believe what had happened.

They left for their honeymoon right after the banns, a prolonged, lavish affair that, at his instance, was crammed into one hectic day with the marriage and the reception both spread over a Sunday lunch. He said he hated large weddings. They flew south to a beach resort. The flight was a short hop, and after a half-hour drive, they arrived at the resort. It was a swanky five-star deluxe hotel. They were expected and had confirmed reservations.

All through the wedding and reception, and on their trip down, Avinash was suave and polished. In the hotel, he was devastatingly charming, and Anuja smiled to herself as she watched the female receptionists trying to catch his attention, not missing the envious looks thrown in her direction.

Avinash was evidently well-known at the hotel. He greeted the concierge, the lobby manager, and the guest relations lady by name. He introduced Anuja, and they were congratulated warmly. He had told Anuja that he came here frequently when he wanted to get away for a few days and just relax. The check-in formalities were waived, and the receptionist handed them their key on a large brass tag.

“Your usual suite, sir,” she said with a smile, her eyes devouring him.

“Thank you,” Avinash smiled, flashing his perfect smile. “Is everything ready as I had asked for?”

“Yes, of course, sir. If you need anything, please let me know.”

She sounded as if she expected him to call her to spend the night.

“We will, thank you,” he said and took Anuja’s arm. “Come, Anji. You’re going to love this.” He hoisted his large camera bag on his shoulder.

The suite was truly spectacular, with a huge living-sitting-dining area, a fully equipped kitchen, and two bedrooms, one larger than the other. It had a huge balcony overlooking lush tropical gardens that stretched to silver sands and the vastness of the ocean. The furnishings were elegant, quiet, and very, very expensive. The bar was fully stocked, there were flowers and fruit everywhere, and a bottle of champagne nestled in its bucket on the balcony with two crystal flutes. A card hung on a thread around the bottle’s neck. With our compliments, it said. The champagne was Dom Perignon. Avinash smiled.

“It’s incredible!” Anuja gasped. “Do you always stay here?”

“Always,” said Avinash with a smile. “Why slum when you can lord?”

He led her to the balcony. The moon rose in a cloudless sky, and they could see the white tops of the waves and hear the wind in the trees and the crash of the surf. The lights glimmered in the huge azure pool.

It was breathtaking. Anuja hugged herself with excitement.

“Happy?” Avinash murmured, close behind her.

Anuja nodded. She could smell his musky cologne, deep, masculine, erotic. He brushed the back of her neck with his fingertips. Anuja shivered. Her long hair was in a thick, single braid down her back, and she was dressed in a simple printed sari.

Avinash drew her against him. She nestled against his broad, deep chest. Her groom was incredibly sexy. He put his arms around her. She thought he might touch her breasts. His fingers brushed her arms and her naked midriff, and she tensed. Her breasts grew hot and swelled, and her rigid nipples ached for his touch.

“Tonight will be special,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

She turned around in his arms. He pressed his lips chastely to her forehead. Anuja closed her eyes and waited, her lips fluttering expectantly.

The kiss never came. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip.

“You are very lovely,” he said, kissing her eyelids.

Anuja’s hands slid up his arms. They were thickly muscled. Her fingers rested on the deep swell of his chest.

Avinash stepped back smoothly, sliding his hands down her arms and locking his fingers in hers, arms stretched.

“Very lovely and very sexy,” he smiled. “Will you do something for me?”

Anything, she said to herself, my god, anything, but take me, darling! Take me hard! Her cunt was already tingling in anticipation. She nodded with a bright smile.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Let’s go in. I’ll tell you what I want you to do.”

He took her arm, and they moved back to the suite.

“You looked stunning at the wedding,” he said with a smile. “Absolutely devastating, with all the jewellery and everything. I’d --”

Anuja looked at him and smiled. “You want me to dress up for you?”

He smiled with genuine pleasure. “Yes. Very much. You don’t mind?”

She laughed. “Don’t be silly, Avinash. Of course not. Give me ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” he said with a broad smile.

Anuja was moving away when he pulled her back, close to him, his hands on her bare waist. His fingers were hard and strong and seemed to burn her flesh. She ached to feel his hands on her breasts, in her crotch, at her anus.

“One more thing, if you would,” he said. “Dress without any underclothes.”

Anuja’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes brightened with excitement. This was very sexy. The man was evidently a master. He planned to fuck her slowly and deeply, to savour every minute, to explore every inch of her being. She nodded breathlessly and turned away, her eyes lingering on him. She was used to being fucked, but this was special, very special. This man would make love to her, long and slow, possess her as a woman should be taken.

Fifteen minutes later, Anuja stepped out of the dressing room into the master bedroom, looking absolutely ravishing. Her hair was drawn back with a centre parting in a long, single, tasseled braid. Her eyes were rimmed with kajal, and she had a bindi, but she wore no other makeup. Diamond studs glinted in her earlobes and one nostril. A thin gold necklace and the long black and gold mangalsutra hung around her neck. She had draped the rich brocade sari in the Gujarati fashion, with the pallu down the front. Her blouse was taut, with a deep V-neck and her breasts jutted out proudly, squeezed together by the tight material to form a sexy cleavage. She had worn the sari low, below her navel, and her midriff was bare. Gold bangles tinkled on her wrists, and she wore rings on two fingers of each hand and on the second toe of each foot. Sexy gold anklets drooped around her slender ankles.

Her eyes flicked to the bed and the smile died on her lips. Avinash had set up a battery of video and still cameras around the bed. He was fiddling with the controls of a monitor on a laptop computer wired to the cameras. At the sound of her step, he looked over his shoulder and turned.

“There you are. Good.” He studied her, and his mouth fell open. “My god, you’re stunning!”

He saw her looking at the video equipment clustered around the bed and chuckled softly at her bewildered expression.

“That’s the other thing,” he said, delight in his voice. “I’m sorry I forgot to mention it. I want to preserve this forever. For posterity.”

He moved forward, languidly unbuttoning his shirt. As he neared her, he pulled it out of his jeans and flung it aside. For a minute, he stood before her, smiling down at her, arms akimbo. Anuja looked at his handsome face, and her eyes slid down over his torso. She couldn’t help the sudden intake of breath. She felt a ripple of naked lust: her breasts swelled, and her nipples stiffened, and her cunt tingled in anticipation.

Avinash’s body was like a piece of sculpture. The torso was smooth-skinned and hairless, in a sharply tapering V from the sprawling shoulders to the narrow, high hips. His chest was deep and broad, with a thick cleft between the slab-like pectorals. His belly was hard and flat, paved with strong, square muscles. His skin was stretched taut over the mighty musculature and was almost translucent: she could see the fine tracery of veins under it. His sharp nipples were set in small aureoles pulled low and far on either side of the mighty W of his chest that swept from armpit to armpit. He was devastatingly sexy.

Anuja felt a frisson of excitement sweep through her. The thought of this demi-god fucking her, and filming it all as well, was incredibly erotic. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her. He pulled off his belt. His fingers opened the clasp of his jeans. Her eyes swept down to his belly, and he chuckled dryly. His eyes boring into her face, he stretched his arm and picked up a plastic bag from the bed, turning it upside down, and shook out the contents.

Anuja’s head turned, and she gasped in shock. Her eyes whipped back to Avinash. Suddenly, his face was cold and still, his eyes dark and flat.

“Have you been fucked before?”

The quiet words stung like a whiplash. Anuja gasped and recoiled, her eyes wide.

“Have you?” There was a sudden malevolence in his eyes that terrified her.

He repeated the question, and now there was a distinct threat of violence. Anuja stared at him dumbly. Suddenly, his hand whipped at her face, and Anuja cried out, her head jerking sideways. The blow wasn’t hard, but it stung.

“Answer me!” he rasped.

Not looking at him, Anuja nodded, cringing from another slap.

“How often?”

Again, she didn’t respond immediately, and this time he hit her harder. Anuja cried out, tears streaking her face.

“How often?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed softly. “I don’t know!”

“What does that mean?” he snarled, gripping her face and turning it to his. “What does that mean? Once? Twice? More than that?”

“More!” she moaned. “More than twice.”

“With the same man? Or was there more than one?”

“More -- more than one --”

She was cringing, expecting another blow. Instead, she heard him chuckle softly. His fingers loosened their grip, and he touched her chin gently.

“Good,” he said, his eyes dancing. “That’s better. Whatever the answer, I must have it. Never disobey me. Do you understand?”

He released her and stepped back. “Now. Listen carefully. I know what you expect. I’m sorry, but it is not to be.” He nodded as she looked up in horror. “That’s right. I will not sleep with you. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Anuja could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She looked at him aghast, her ears burning. He went on in his quiet, smooth voice.

“Sex, as you know it, or have experienced it -- and you will tell me about your experience or experiences when I wish to hear them -- is not something we will share. Never. Get it?”

She opened her mouth in protest, but he went on. “There will be no kissing. No fondling. No foreplay, and most certainly no copulation. Your cunt will never -- never, you understand? -- feel my prick. Nor your mouth or hands or any other part of you.”

“I -- I don’t understand!” she cried, her mind whirling.

“Don’t understand? What is there not to understand? It’s quite simple, really. Let me put it in a language you may follow. I will not fuck you. Ever. I think you should be able to follow that now.”

“But why?” Anuja cried. “Why are you doing this? Is there -- is there someone else? Another woman?”

Avinash smiled. “To answer your last question first, Anuja,” he said dispassionately. “There is no one ‘other woman’. There are other women, or have been. Frequently. Now, if you satisfy me, you will suffice, at least for the time being. There may be others, if I choose.”

“But -- but how do I satisfy you if -- if --”

Avinash laughed in her face. “As all the others have. In exactly the same way. Like all the other whores I’ve paid for. As they did.”

She stared at him uncomprehending. “I -- I don’t understand --”

“No, I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anyone to.”

“What -- what do you want, then Avinash? How -- how do I --?”

“I like to watch.”

“What?”

“I like to watch. It turns me on to watch a couple fucking. I like seeing it live, or in films. For years, I watched one blue film after the other constantly. After a point, they’re boring, not really exciting enough. Fortunately, I have an electronics company and we make or import the latest in audio-visual equipment. So I decided to make my own films. I make extremely sexy films. And I watch them. Again and again. When I get bored, I make new ones. I have an enormous library. Over three hundred tapes.”

“But don’t you -- don’t you want to --?”

He smiled thinly. “No. I prefer to masturbate. Repeatedly. I can come again and again without effort. I find it exhilarating.”

Anuja took a deep breath. “Well,” she said quietly. “Good for you, then, Avinash. And goodbye. I don’t want this. Live with your quirks. I won’t.”

She turned away and headed for the bathroom.

“You’re making a mistake.”

She turned, anger in her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Perhaps you should see this. It might change your mind.”

“Not a chance.”

“I think you should consider, Anuja. This could change everything.”

He picked up a remote control from the coffee table and thumbed a button. The big colour television set against the wall flickered to life. Anuja gasped. It was one of her films. One she had made for Hedon & Venery. It was done soon after she joined, and was the first in which she had the lead role. The sequence on screen showed her thrashing in unfaked passion with an enormously endowed black man in an eye mask.

He was licking her slit. His tongue was thick and heavy and long, almost animal, a bright sexual organ on its own. Anuja lay naked on her back and her head rolled from side to side and her hips heaved and bucked eagerly under his face. Her hands were under her swollen breasts, squeezing the fleshy mounds, tugging at her long, rigid nipples sexily. Her legs were spread, her knees bent, moaning feverishly.

Anuja gaped in dismay and watched her hands roll sensuously over her breasts, then slide down to her lover’s head, moving it around between her thighs. Her hips arched, her back bowed, and her body jerked on the bed.

“Where did you get that?” she gasped.

The film was meant strictly for overseas sales to South American countries.

The camera lingered in a long close-up of his tongue in her cunt, curling and flipping through the sodden cunt-flesh, rimmed with damp curling pubic hair, flicking her swollen clitoris furiously with his tongue and his thick lips sucking it, drawing it in and out between his lips. Her lust was evidently unfaked.

“I told you. This is my hobby,” Avinash explained. I found a mail-order firm in America that scours local markets for fresh material around the world. This was bought in Rio, of all places. Frankly, I’d be interested to find out what your parents or friends would think if they should chance to see something like this. Personally, I think it’s wonderful. You agree?”

He turned up the volume. Anuja heard herself moan and gasp obscenely as the Negro slid up and worked her breasts and nipples with his tongue. She arched her back, squeezing her breast into his mouth. His large, white teeth tugged on one as he pinched the other, and then he rapped his tongue rapidly across her nipple. Anuja groaned and arched, her hand pumping his cock.

“I want to suck your cock,” she heard herself say. “Let me suck you.”

The man moved up and squeezed his thick, dark penis between her breasts, fucking them slowly, raking her nipples down his shaft. Her lips fluttered, questing for his cock-head and, with a dry chuckle, he knelt over her face and pushed his cock into her mouth. She sucked his penis hungrily, her head rocking up and down between his thighs. His bloated penis distended her face. She licked the gorged cock-head lasciviously, winding her tongue round and round the slimy bulge, her fingers deftly working his balls. The man’s hips pumped gently, pushing his cock in and out of her mouth and then he turned around and they went into a sixty-nine. The camera retreated to a mid-shot of their bodies writhing together, then moved seamlessly into a series of alternating cuts between his tongue in her cunt and his penis in her mouth.

After several minutes, the man got up, licking his moist lips. Turning her on her side, he knelt behind her buttocks, lifted her upper leg high and wide, and squeezed his ten-inch penis deep into her cunt. Anuja’s body twisted and writhed, and her face contorted, in a detailed close-up, a vision of naked lust. The man began to fuck her, in time to a cleverly syncopated, pulsating soundtrack rhythm, plunging his cock in and out of her cunt. Anuja watched as the man’s rocking grew faster and remembered how wonderful it felt.

“I got it a little after the marriage was fixed,” Avinash said. “You have no idea how relieved I was to find that I was engaged to a rutting whore. You must know that the only reason I consented to marriage was to please my family and get them off my back. This was an added bonus. I have no regrets.”

“Put it off. Please.”

“Why?” he laughed. “I like the next bit best. Where he fucks you doggie-style. The camera work and editing are pure genius. You must tell me where to get more of these.”

“Avinash. Please.”

On screen, Anuja saw the black man push her on her front on all fours. He dropped into a low squat behind her and, holding his thick black cock in his hand, squeezed it through her buttocks into her cunt in one long rush. The film snapped to a shot of her face, arched, riven with lust, her mouth wide, her eyes hooded, her body lurching forward, then cut to a shot of his enormous penis driving in and in and in, disappearing inexorably into her flesh. It cut back to her face, and her voice came through the background music.

“OHHH yes! Ohhh god yes! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Ohgod!”

“Take it! Take it, whore! Take it all!” the man cried, forcing himself deeper into her.

“Ohhhhh yes! Yes! It feels so good! Fuck my cunt, baby! Fuck me hard!”

The film snapped back to a close-up of the monstrously distended penis grinding and rasping and squelching methodically in and out of her cunt. The huge lance glistened with their juices, and Anuja could see the thick, hard veins along its length. They had scraped and mashed her inflamed clitoris relentlessly till she was dizzy with pure joy. The dark penis appeared and disappeared between the curves of her buttocks and the shot dissolved into an even tighter close-up. Anuja’s cunt filled the screen, and she could see the black man’s heavy, hairy balls squeezing against her buttocks and cunt-lips, the thick shaft scrunching and grinding and pushing greedily through her cunt-lips, spread wide in eager welcome by her clawed fingers, surging into the sodden cunt-flesh within. The close-up was pin-sharp and she could see the small, dark hairs of her cunt, damp and curled inward. The man’s buttocks flexed and unflexed, his puckered anus winking at the camera as his penis burrowed and squeezed relentlessly in and out of her flesh. His balls pressed to her cunt-lips and she saw her finger cupping and squeezing them eagerly.

Avinash chuckled at the sight. “Yes,” he said. “This is an exceptionally fine movie. Perhaps I should show it to some of your colleagues at the bar.”

He smiled at the ashen look on Anuja’s face. Behind him, from the screen, her own voice echoed in joyous delirium, mingling with her lover’s heavy grunts.

“Take it! Take it, bitch! OHhhhhh yeh! Take my cock! Ohhhh yeh! OHHHhh unhhh OHHH! Unhhhh -- yes! Ohhhhh yes!”

“OHHhh! OHHHh! Ohhhhh! OhmaunhhhhOHHH!” Anuja’s cries rang out. “Ohhh, that feels so good! Ohhhh yes! Fuck -- unhhh -- fuck me! Ohhh god yes! Fuck me hard, baby! Yes! Do it! Ohhhhh yes! Yes! Ohhh god yes!”

Avinash raised the volume further. Anuja closed her eyes and clapped her hands to her ears. Avinash turned it up further. She could not shut it out.

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Please! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

Avinash ignored her. Their cries came over the soundtrack. On screen, the images continued to flicker. Now the black man was ram-fucking her cunt, slamming his hips violently back and forth, the huge penis thundering in and out of her cunt-flesh. Her body jerked and lurched unsteadily under the heavy pounding, her breasts tossing wildly, the gold necklace around her neck flying this way and that. It cut to a close-up of her face, contorted in a silent scream of agonised delight, her mouth wide open, her eyes screwed up, her perfect teeth bared. Her cries were loud, lewd, ragged, utterly obscene, evidently unfaked.

“Yes,” she heard herself moan. “Fuck me, lover! Fuck me like a whore!”

“So. Do we have a deal?” Avinash murmured.

Anuja nodded. “Yes. Yes. I’ll do as you say. Please. Just put it off.”