Rajesh waited until Khalid’s guest had finished and left the penthouse. The Arab man lingered by the window, sipping his drink, still flushed from watching another stranger use his wife.
Rajesh stepped closer, voice low. “I have been thinking about what you asked last week—about bondage. About finding the right kind of people.”
Khalid’s fingers tightened around the glass. “Did you find someone?”
Instead of answering, Rajesh pulled out his phone. He opened a folder and began swiping through pictures: women in strict rope, metal spreaders, heavy chains, faces contorted in pain and pleasure. He handed the phone over.
Khalid scrolled slowly. His breathing changed when he reached a video thumbnail of a man in a chair, wrists bound, watching his wife get railed by two masked men while a thick leather collar kept her head pulled back. Rajesh tapped play. The woman’s muffled cries filled the quiet room. The husband’s cock was visibly hard inside his trousers.
Khalid’s own cock twitched. He kept his face neutral.
Rajesh watched him. “Some husbands like to watch. Some like to be part of it. Some want their wives broken and owned by someone else entirely.”
Khalid cleared his throat. “Where do people even find this?”
Rajesh shrugged. “I know a few circles. Private. Very private. If you’re comfortable, I could show you what I know. Demonstrate.”
Khalid’s mind flashed to the image of his Indian driver—the man who fetched his car every morning—binding Fatima, hurting her, using her while he watched. The thought made his stomach tighten in a way he didn’t want to examine.
He forced a polite smile. “I’ll figure something out. Thank you for the offer.”
Rajesh nodded once, took the phone back, and left the room without another word. Khalid stayed by the window, replaying the video in his head, the cuckold husband’s helpless arousal burned behind his eyes.
Rajesh kept feeding Khalid new videos every few nights. He waited until the Arab man was alone in the study, poured him a drink, then handed over the phone with the next clip already queued. One showed a woman suspended by her tits, needles through the nipples, her cunt stretched around a thick dildo while her husband sat bound and gagged beneath her. Another featured a wife in a metal stockade, ass and mouth both used at once, her septum ring yanked hard to keep her head up. Khalid watched every second, cock stiffening inside his trousers, but never let Rajesh see the reaction.
Khalid started searching. He contacted three different men who claimed they could handle extreme play. The first arrived with a small duffel bag of leather cuffs and a blindfold. He locked Fatima’s wrists and ankles to the bed frame, fucked her mouth until he came, then fucked her pussy until he came again. He left without touching her ass. The second man brought a flogger and a ball gag. He spanked her lightly, used the gag while he fucked her, and finished inside her cunt. He never used her ass either. The third man was even gentler—soft rope, gentle spanking, missionary sex. None of them pulled her septum ring. None of them caned her until she sobbed. None of them left bruises that needed concealer.
Fatima returned to Khalid each time looking almost untouched. Rajesh watched her come home, saw the disappointment in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. He waited two more nights, then showed Khalid a new video. This one featured a woman in a full leather harness, septum ring chained to a ceiling hook, ass plugged and whipped while her husband watched from a cage. Khalid’s breathing grew heavier. Rajesh let the video play until the woman’s ass was bright red and dripping cum.
“These men you found,” Rajesh said quietly, “they’re not breaking her. They’re just using her.”
Khalid stayed silent, eyes still on the screen.
Rajesh continued. “I can show you what real ownership looks like. No hiding. No pretending. Let her wear the septum ring openly. Let everyone see who she belongs to.”
Khalid’s fingers tightened around his glass. He thought about the video he’d watched—the cuckold husband forced to watch his wife’s ass get destroyed. His cock throbbed. He still said nothing.
Rajesh leaned closer. “Next time she comes to me, I’ll keep the ring in. No retainer. No hiding. You can watch what happens when someone actually knows how to hurt her properly.”
Khalid swallowed hard. He nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Rajesh smiled and collected his phone, leaving the Arab man alone with the image of Fatima’s septum ring on full display, her body marked and used the way she truly needed.
Khalid stood frozen in the doorway, his keys still dangling from his fingers. Fatima knelt naked on the marble floor, the thick silver septum ring gleaming under the lights. A thin chain ran from the piercing to Rajesh’s fist. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks streaked with dried saliva, and fresh red handprints marked both sides of her face.
Rajesh didn’t flinch. He gave the chain a sharp tug, forcing Fatima’s head up so Khalid could see the new piercing clearly. “She’s been wearing the retainer for weeks,” Rajesh said calmly. “Tonight I decided she should show you what she really is.”
Khalid’s anger flared hot and fast. “You went behind my back. You pierced her. You turned her into—”
“Your wife came to me begging for it,” Rajesh interrupted. He slapped Fatima’s left cheek hard enough to make her sway. “Tell him.”
Fatima’s voice came out hoarse. “I asked him to pierce me. I wanted to be his slave.”
Khalid’s cock twitched inside his trousers. The sight of his wife crawling on all fours, septum ring stretched by Rajesh’s leash, made his pulse hammer. Every man he had brought home had fucked her like a polite guest—gentle cuffs, soft spanks, missionary positions. None of them had left her shaking and dripping the way Rajesh did.
Rajesh gave the chain another tug. “Crawl to your husband. Show him how you greet your real owner.”
Fatima moved forward on hands and knees, the chain swinging between her tits. When she reached Khalid’s feet she pressed her forehead to his shoes, ass high, cunt visibly wet. Rajesh stepped behind her and drove a cruel buttplug filled sharp steel hard thorns straight into her asshole without warning. Fatima eyes burst out with tears flowing all my with a huge massive sound into the marble floor throwing up from khalid”s feet.
Khalid’s anger dissolved into raw lust. “You’ve been training her like this for months?”
“Every weekend you thought she was at her sister’s,” Rajesh answered. He pulled his fingers out and wiped them across Fatima’s lips. “She drinks my piss and seed as breakfast lunch and dinner so do takes my cock up her ass, and thanks me for every bruise. Your friends only used her mouth and pussy. I use every hole until she cries.”
Khalid stared at the red handprints on his wife’s face and the way her septum ring tugged with every breath. His cock strained painfully against his zipper. “I’m done with the amateurs,” he said. “From now on you handle her. Full time. At home, in the car, on holidays—wherever I say.”
Rajesh smiled and handed Khalid the leash. “Then give the first order.”
Khalid wrapped the chain around his fist and yanked upward. Fatima rose onto her knees, mouth open, tongue out. “Suck Rajesh’s cock,” Khalid said, voice shaking with excitement. “Drink every drop while I watch.”
Rajesh unzipped. Fatima took him to the root without hesitation, gagging wetly as he fucked her throat. Khalid watched his wife’s lips stretch around the thick shaft, saliva pouring down her chin onto her tits. When Rajesh came, Fatima swallowed greedily, then licked the head clean like a trained pet.
Rajesh pulled out and slapped her face again, harder this time. “Good slave.” He turned to Khalid. “She needs proper equipment. Collars, harnesses, spreader bars, anal hooks, canes, clamps—everything. I’ll send you links from the best American sites. You order tonight. She wears nothing but what I choose from now on.”
Khalid nodded, already pulling out his phone. “Start her training right now. I want to see her broken properly.”
Rajesh clipped the leash back to Fatima’s septum ring and led her toward the playroom Khalid had never used. “On your knees the entire way,” he ordered. “And keep your ass up so your husband can see how wet you are for real pain.”
Fatima crawled forward, chain swinging, cunt glistening, ready to become the full-time slave both men now demanded.
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