Rahul burst through the front door just as Manju finished wiping the kitchen counter. The moment she turned, his open palm cracked across her cheek, sending her stumbling backward into the pine table. He grabbed a fistful of her thick black hair and dragged her around the room, slamming every door shut and pocketing the keys while she whimpered.
“You ran straight into the kitchen, bitch,” he snarled, yanking her head back. “That big table is perfect for what I have planned.”
Manju’s eyes widened in terror. “Please, Rahul, my husband Prem will be home soon—”
Another vicious slap cut her off. Rahul shoved her face-down onto the table, ripped her sari up over her hips, and tore her panties aside. His hand rained down on her bare ass in a relentless series of brutal slaps that left red handprints blooming across her brown skin. Manju sobbed, legs kicking uselessly as each strike jolted through her body.
“You’re going to learn exactly who owns you now,” Rahul growled, gripping her hair tighter while his other hand continued its merciless assault on her ass cheeks. Manju’s tears soaked the wooden surface beneath her face.
When her buttocks glowed hot and swollen, Rahul hauled her upright by the hair and forced her to her knees. He pulled a coil of washing line from under the sink and cut several lengths. First he bound her heavy breasts, wrapping the thin rope so tightly that the flesh bulged purple and angry. Manju cried out at the pressure, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
Rahul attached cruel metal clamps to her swollen nipples, then added small weights that tugged mercilessly with every breath. He shoved a thick dildo into her pussy without warning, making her gasp and sob. Then he produced two nose hooks. One went into her nostrils, the other clipped to her lower lip; both connected to her collar, forcing her head back and mouth open in a humiliating display.
“Look at you,” he mocked, snapping photos on his phone. “Housewife turned fucktoy.”
He attached a thin leather leash to the septum ring and gave it a sharp tug. Manju yelped, the pain shooting straight to her eyes as she was forced to crawl behind him. Every movement made the clamps swing and the dildo shift inside her.
Rahul led her to the center of the kitchen and tied her wrists to the table legs, bending her over so her ass and breasts hung exposed. He selected a thin riding crop from his bag and began a methodical whipping. The leather cracked across her ass first, then her bound breasts, leaving thin red welts that made Manju scream and thrash. He targeted her nipples through the clamps, striking until she was hoarse from crying.
“Please, stop—” she begged between sobs. “I’ve never—”
Rahul answered by wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing. Manju’s eyes bulged as he choked her, the crop still lashing her ass and tits in steady rhythm. Only when her vision started to blur did he release her, letting her gasp and choke on her own tears.
He freed her wrists only to flip her onto her back on the table, legs spread and tied wide. Rahul climbed up, straddling her chest, and shoved his thick cock between her forced-open lips. He fucked her throat without mercy, using the nose hooks and collar as handles while Manju gagged and cried around his shaft.
“Swallow every drop, housewife slut,” he ordered, pulling out at the last moment to paint her face and tongue with thick ropes of cum. He pinched her nose shut until she had no choice but to gulp down the bitter seed, tears and saliva mixing with the mess on her cheeks.
Rahul wasn’t finished. He dragged her off the table by the leash tied to her septum ring and forced her to crawl again, this time to the living room where he bent her over the arm of the sofa. He rammed into her ass without lube, making Manju shriek and sob into the cushions. Each brutal thrust rocked her forward, the nose leash pulled taut, the clamps swinging, her whipped breasts scraping the fabric.
He reached around to choke her again while pounding her ass, his other hand slapping her already bruised cheeks. “Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded.
“Y-you,” Manju sobbed, voice hoarse. “I’m Rahul’s slave.”
“Louder.”
“I’m Rahul’s collared slave! My holes belong to him!” she wailed, fresh tears pouring down her face.
Rahul laughed and pumped her ass full of cum, holding her by the throat until every drop was inside her. When he finally pulled out, he made her kneel and clean his cock with her tongue, forcing her to swallow the mixture of cum and her own juices.
He attached the septum leash to a ring on the wall and left her there, cum leaking from her ass, breasts and ass covered in welts, face streaked with tears and seed. Manju curled into a ball, crying softly at the overwhelming new sensations and the knowledge that her life as Prem’s innocent housewife was over.
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