The Night of Her Wedding - 1

Story of a Gangbang Bride

I have been writing about Prachi for what feels like the entirety of 2024. It started out about a fantasy I had after attending the wedding of a distant relative. While I watched them smile and share a joke, and that’s when the overall plot of the story started taking shape.

This is a gangbang story, but there are elements to it which make it stand out from a vanilla gangbang. I have written group sex scenes before (in Untying the Knots, and more recently in Since that day) but group scenes are extremely difficult, especially, when it comes to keeping track of every man in the room, making the sex not repetitive.

The Night of Her Wedding is about Prachi, a 24 year old, free soul, who decided that it was time to get married because she was starting to feel lost. All the events in the story happen on the night of her wedding (duh!). At first, I had thought this will be a short story, but the more I wrote, I realized that there was more to write about. This is a multipart story. The first two parts of which will be free, but, the the entire story is already completed, and you can get it right now on my my Gumroad store! If you are a Patreon member, you’d get a 40% discount when you buy the book. If you like the first part, please consider buying the book! It’s a great way to support my work.

Happy Reading!

1

“Are you sure this will be safe?” Prachi spoke in a low voice. She was straining against weight of her bridal saree, the layers of make-up, which despite her protest was on her.

“Yes,” Harsh replied, not looking at her, instead smiling at his relatives.

“But, what if someone hears us?”

“Nobody will ask us about the noises we make on our first night,” Harsh turned to her, his neck grazing against the hard collar of his sherwani.

If there weren’t all that make-up, and all that harsh light of wedding hall, Harsh would’ve seen Prachi blush.

The newlyweds were talking about their first night together. It wouldn’t technically be their first night together. No, they weren’t dating before they got married. Their match was arranged by the parents, about 10 months back.

Prachi was 24, when she had decided that it was time to get married. Her parents were taken aback a little, when the morning after her 24th birthday, Prachi told them that she wanted to get married.

Soon after, they found Harsh. The first few dates were awkward, with Prachi used to a very different pace for the dates. Harsh checked all the boxes — tall, decently handsome, and well off.

It was close to a month of knowing each other that they finally fucked. Prachi tried to hold back a little. She acted as if she didn’t know how to use her tongue at the base of Harsh’s dick. All that pretense evaporated the first time Harsh made Prachi cum.

Many men have tried to eat Prachi’s pussy. Half of them were uncomfortable experiences and others were “meh”. But, Harsh. Harsh had a way with his tongue. And after he was done pushing her to the very edge, he would enter her, with none of the pornstar flourish. But when his dick was inside her, his girth, and the way he moved inside her drove Prachi crazy.

It was the first time ever in her life, that she couldn’t control how loudly she moaned. She knew that she had finally found a man, a man for whom she didn’t have to perform. She had returned home, and told her parents that she will get married to Harsh.

So, yes, it would be their first night as husband and wife. But, why would Prachi be nervous about the first night then? She was far from being a shy innocent virgin.

Prachi, imagined with Stable Diffusion

It was close to 1 AM, when Prachi and Harsh could finally be in their room. Harsh locked the door, latching it. Prachi stood behind him, unsure what to do. Harsh had asked her not to take off anything, not even a single piece of jewellery off her body.

“Now what?” Prachi said, her golden nath, slightly swaying as she spoke.

The nose ring, connected to ear by a golden chain, made each of her movements deliberate, each of her words deliberate. She wondered how she will survive the night, with that nose ring on. And then there were other pieces of her bridal accessories — her maang tika, the heavy pair of earrings, the set of thick golden bangles, the kamarband around her waist, the anklets, the bridal saree, heavier than anything she has ever worn and then there was the ghunghat (veil), the first time she had ever covered her head, her curly hair neatly tucked away.

Harsh walked up to her, and touched her chin. He planted a light kiss on her lips, being careful not to smudge her lipstick. He wanted her to look like the bride she was, for as long as it was possible.

Prachi smiled, and asked him another question, “Are you sure this will be okay?”

Harsh pursed his lips and then smiled, “What are you afraid of?”

“I have told you, and —”

“Exactly,” Harsh said, taking out his phone, “we have talked this over many times.”

Prachi sighed, her heart fluttering as she saw her husband type on the phone.

“I am just worried about people outside,” Prachi finally said.

Harsh looked up, smiling at the reply. He kept his phone in the pocket and said, “I will take care of the outside.”

He touched her shoulders, and directed her to the bed. Prachi sat down. Harsh knelt and said, “The only important question is — Do you want to do this?”

Prachi’s breaths were ragged as she thought about it. Harsh squeezed her knees. Prachi finally said, “Yes.”

“Good,” Harsh said, getting up with a flourish, “I’ll be back.”

Prachi didn’t look up as she heard the men talk. Prachi stared at her hands, freshly marked with mehendi, her fingers studded with gold rings. The men talked in hushed tones, five of them, including her husband. Their conversation, went up a notch. Harsh shushed them, and told them to walk toward the bed, away from the door.

The five men walked toward Prachi. They were all wearing masks, masquerade masks, which made them look ominous. If Prachi tried, she could have identified each of them. But she refused to look up.

They stopped by the bed, two on her left, and three including her husband on the right. The men towered over her, their legs brushing against her. Her heart was racing, her body uncomfortable under the weight of her bridal outfit. What was unfolding in front of her, was not something that happened to new brides often, not on their first nights.

“Come on, bro,” one of them was saying.

“Yes, but it is not what we had discussed. We —” Harsh was saying.

“Then discuss now,” said another one of them. Prachi vaguely remembered their voices from the conversations weeks before her wedding night. But, right then, seated on the bed, while five men talked about her, those discussions felt blurry.

“I don’t know, this is a lot,” Harsh finally said, sighing. He placed his hand on his bride’s shoulder. Prachi looked up, her eyes bright, yet tired from the whole evening of smiling. She was thinking about the night all evening, and now that the time was finally here, there was a problem, a problem that she didn’t even know.

“What happened?” Prachi asked, in a low voice, her hands clasped together. She could feel the stare of the men on her, four pairs of eyes, their faces half-concealed in masks, but she looked only at her husband.

Harsh knelt down again. He looked at the guys, and then to his bride, “They want to do it raw. And —”

“What!” Prachi felt a jolt down her spine, goosebumps on the back of her neck.

“And here,” the one who was quiet all along, took out wads of cash, and threw it on Prachi’s lap, “we have doubled our gifts.”

Most of thick ₹500 bundles fell out of her lap. Prachi held one of the bundle, her eyes wide, her mouth gaped. It was the first time she was seeing so much cash in one place. She studied one bundle, and gulped.

This was the price of newly wed pussy, she thought.

“Listen, we can back off now, if you don’t —”

“Come on man!” a collective jeer from the men.

Harsh hushed them again. He squeezed Prachi’s knee and asked her the same question again.

It had started as a joke — a joke of Prachi being a gangbang bride. The wedding was still a couple of months away, Prachi was on her knees, sucking Harsh. She was naked, and bobbing her head, massaging his balls, just the way Harsh liked it.

Oh, maybe, we should back up a little. There’s no point in telling you about the night of Prachi’s wedding, without telling you about the years before.

When Prachi started college, she realized what attention felt like. Almost all her friends from school had left the city, to study engineering or economics in prestigious universities. Prachi had never really bothered to study hard for entrances. She never imagined herself having a career of any sort.

Yes, she wanted to go to college, but it was because of the freedom to stay outside, and to drink and to hangout with friends whenever she wanted to. But getting a degree, so that she would land a job for herself, was never really her priority. As for leaving the city, Prachi could not imagine herself in any city in India except Bombay. She could have done her under-graduation abroad, but SAT seemed like too much work.

The first day at her College, was a revelation. She woke up that morning, and realized that she didn’t have anyone to call to, to share her excitement about the first day. She could have called her friends Srishti and Sandra, but they had already started their colleges in Delhi and Pune, and she had no idea what they were doing at that point of the day. It was 7 AM, and she didn’t have to leave for college till 0830 AM. She spent this time, picking her outfit.

With plenty of time in hand, she decided to strip naked and pick out every little piece of clothing and accessory which she would wear. Before starting and “picking out” process, she stood in front of the mirror, naked, with nothing to hide the modesty of her 18 year old body, except the trimmed bush on her pussy.

“Wow,” she said. She hadn’t realized that her hips had curved that much, and her waist felt much slimmer than her ass. She turned around, and apprised herself from the side. Her nipples had hardened. She had a sensitive pair of nipples – the lightest of touches and they would harden. Dark and perky, her nipples outlined her silhouette. Prachi was dark, she had always been dark, but her skin had a glow, something she hadn’t seen in a while. She touched her breasts, firm and perky. They were small enough to be easily held, but large enough to make their presence felt in whatever tee shirt or top she wore. She wore a B-cup then, which was a little too tight for her, but the higher cup size felt awkward.

She was 5’1”, her hair short and curly. She had a pretty face, her features symmetric and her eyes wide and expressive. She smiled at the mirror, a goofy smile, incongruous with the sexy body that she was looking at in the mirror. For the first day, she decided to wear a pair of jeans, which she had avoided because they were loose around the hips, and a plain white tee shirt, which ended just above the jeans’ waist line, always showing a hint of her flat belly, whenever she moved.

She took an Uber to her college. She always did. When she got off, it felt like a lot at first. Too many new faces, even the small college building seemed like a confusing maze. It was only after her first class that she realized that things were different. The girl with whom she had sat for the first class, seemed to have a bevy of her friends, sitting behind her. That girl got busy talking with her friends, and Prachi started browsing her phone, mostly scrolling through Instagram, when she heard him.

“Are you friends with Srishti?” he said.

“Sorry?” Prachi was confused at first.

“I am sorry,” the guy said in a self-assured tone, “I may be mistaken, but I think I have seen you on Srishti’s photos.”

“Oh,” Prachi paused, and then said, “How do you know Srishti?”

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend. And I follow her on Insta, I think I might have seen you there,” he said.

Srishti has a boyfriend already?! Prachi thought.

“I am Jay,” the guy extended his hand.

After their introduction, Prachi and he exchanged numbers. Jay wouldn’t be the only guy who would introduce himself to Prachi. Soon, a guy asked her out for a coffee, she said yes. Another guy asked her out for a movie, she said yes. The movie-guy was a little handsy, but Prachi liked that. She liked how he would pretend that it was a big deal to squeeze her thighs. When they started kissing in the theatre, Prachi heard him purr. And when he took her hand and kept it on his crotch, Prachi was surprised how just a kiss and few thigh squeezes made him that hard. It wasn’t Prachi’s first kiss, but it was the first time she had felt a hard dick through jeans.

The same guy, asked her if she would want to check-in to a hotel after movie. “No,” she said.

She said “Yes” to the next guy, because he was bold enough to book a room in a Novotel and simply send her the screenshot of the booking. That’s where she lost her virginity. The sex was underwhelming, but it was seeing a guy who was almost a foot taller than her, and bigger in every aspect, be so submissive in bed. It was especially evident when she sucked his dick. He purred like a cat, when she took his dick in his mouth. There was nothing pleasurable about sucking him, but it was the way his body melted into a puddle when she flicked her tongue around his dick. And it was just the first time she was sucking a dick.

When they were done fucking, he asked, “Did you like what I did?”

She had smiled and nodded. Prachi hadn’t cum. She loved touching herself, and had thought that a guy’s touch would be more intense; instead, the guy whom she lost her virginity to was clumsy with his fingers. Prachi instinctively realised that the only way to make him stop was to ask him to fuck her. That’s how she had asked for a dick for the first time.

After that check-in, they went out a few times, fucked a few times, but Prachi was soon bored with the same thing happening to her over and over again. The guy finished in the same position, always on top of her. He would try to fuck her from behind, but the thrusts would be too feeble. After their fourth check-in, Prachi decided to say yes to the other guy she was texting at that time.

8 years on, when we meet Prachi, she would be hard-pressed to remember the names of the guys whom she fucked during her college. It wasn’t the best decision though, because, there were some awkward interactions with the female classmates, many insinuating that she was sleeping with their boyfriends. Some would go and blatantly declare that she was “too easy”. It’s one of the reasons why Prachi didn’t make any friends in college. The guys, whom she fucked, were rarely talkative after cumming, and after a while, they knew that she was probably texting the next guy she would be fucking.

What happened over the years, especially the last year of her college, was that the men had started getting unconventional with her. Some were simply naive, and thought that they had invented a totally new type of missionary for her, by placing a pillow under her butt while they fucked her. Others went out of their way to choke her, push a thumb down her tongue, or fuck her throat. The first time she had a dick touch her throat, Prachi had coughed hard.

“Do it again,” she had said. It took her a couple of guys, before she could let her throat constrict around a dick without her gag reflex kicking in. The men liked Prachi on her knees. They would bunch up her hair in their hands, and thrust their hips, fucking her face. Prachi was short, and often the men had to do a half squat to fuck her face. She would feel their balls hitting her chin. She had once accidently touched the ball sack of a guy who was fucking her face hard. The guy had cum almost instantly, while his dick was still deep inside her mouth. He hadn’t let her head go, and had stayed inside, till she coughed, with his thick cum hitting the insides of her mouth.

That was a pleasant surprise for Prachi, for two reasons. One, she found how to get out of a face fuck quickly – just give a loving squeeze to their balls. And two, she discovered that cum didn’t taste as bad as she had thought. For the men, whom she liked enough, who could take her to places where she wouldn’t want to go with her own allowance, she found that swallowing cum went a long way to string them along.

Besides, while most dicks felt the same inside her, every cum had a little different kind of taste. Some were thick, slimy almost sweet, while others were runny and more salty. And, as an added bonus, she loved watching their faces when they were finishing inside her mouth. The guys she fucked, knew that wherever they were putting their dick, has been place for many others. Almost no one insisted on fucking her without a condom. And when the finished inside the condom, it always felt impersonal. But inside her mouth, when she watched their crunched up faces, even of those with the manliest of beards, it made her want to giggle. Sometimes she couldn’t hold back, and ended up grinning with the cum still in her mouth.

College ended. Her closest and only friends, Srishti and Sandra got jobs in Bombay, and so did their boyfriends. They would hangout sometimes. They would ask Prachi to bring whomever she was dating. But Prachi never did that because, she didn’t really date anyone. She could bring a guy whom she was going to fuck that day, but what if next month they invite them again, or ask about how long they knew each other. After college, she was at home for a couple of months, but going out and staying late at night became difficult. Her parents were chill, but they still asked the cursory question about where she was going.

So, for a reason to get out of the house, she got a job as a digital marketer at a local news website. She spent her days making topic slides, the kinds which you see on say Gandhi Jayanti giving trivia about Gandhi, and making you click through the website so that you see more ads. The workplace was of course different that college. Her body had changed little. She was still petite, just a little but more fat on her ass, and now she could comfortably wear a C-Cup. She would nicely into formal skirts and shirts, making sure that a few buttons of her shirt strained right near her cleavage.

She was 21, and had a whole life ahead of her. A guy from work was particularly cute. And when he showed interest in her, she wondered how his face would look when he was cumming inside her mouth. So, she took up on the offer of showing up at his place. They drank, watched some movie, and then fucked. It was pretty chill. Except the next day, everybody in the office knew about it. It was different that how it was in college. Everybody in the college knew that she was fucking, but the vibe of the workplace changed a lot. Her boss, who was about 40 years-old, asked her if she was free for dinner. She politely said no. That evening, she installed Bumble on her phone.

And from that point, it was pretty much the same. Guy after guy. Some would think that she was serious, and some were afraid of never meeting her after the first fuck. Some were so nervous that they couldn’t get it hard to fuck her. And some were simply weird, asking Prachi her gotra and things like that.

Years went by, and on her 24th birthday, Sandra announced that she was getting married.

“What?!” Prachi was genuinely shocked.

“I love Rohan, and it was such hard work to convince his parents. I am not waiting around longer,” Sandra said, sipping her wine. It was a small cosy party, with just the girls, with plans of going to a pub later at night.

“I am really happy for you, Sandra,” Srishti said. She pursed her lips, and continued, “you know guys, I have some news of my own. Vihan proposed to me yesterday.” She was saying this to Sandra, but Prachi screamed, “WHAT!”

“Oh my God!” Sandra hugged Srishti and pulled in Prachi to hug her too.

Later at night, at the pub, when the girls were dancing, Prachi’s mind was not at the guy who was grinding his crotch against her ass. He had been trying to touch her for close to 15 minutes, but Prachi was too lost in her thoughts to care about it. Later, when it was time to leave, Prachi said her buys to her friends, who were practically about to get married, and went with the guy from the pub.

His place was messy, and he shared his flat with another guy. In his tiny room, in his tiny bed, as he was fucking her, she wondered who she will hangout with after all this. Sure, Srishti and Sandra would be around, but their lives would have crossed a threshold.

“Do you like it?” the guy asked.

Prachi nodded, wondering that she was so far away from that threshold. It would certainly not be the guy who was grunting on top of her. She tried to think of the last guy whom she could think of spending the rest of her life with.

The guy finished inside her, and laid beside her. Prachi’s nipples were hard, her breast exposed. The guy caressed her breasts, as she sighed, wondering if she had spent the last 6 years wrong. She didn’t know how to date, or be with a guy. Whenever she saw a man, she was always thinking about how his cum would taste like, or how he would try to get her in bed.

It was 3 AM, when she returned home. The next morning, at 9 AM, with a slight headache, she declared to her parents, “I want you guys to find someone for me.”

“What?” her father was surprised.

“We always thought that you would marry someone whom you love,” her mother added.

“Well, I don’t like dating. It has always been weird for me,” Prachi said, as she continued eating her oats.

A year later, Prachi and Harsh got married.

So, when Harsh had made that joke, his hard dick in his fiancee’s grip, Prachi had replied, “How many men would fuck me?”

Harsh had breathed in sharply. Prachi squeezed his dick, as she waited for the answer, refusing to stroke it.

“Three…” Harsh said.

“Just three?” Prachi grinned, and brushed aside her loose strand of her curly hair from her eyes. She started stroking him vigorously with one hand, and returned to playing with his balls.

“Fo…ur?” Harsh said, his speech slurred, his eyes closed.

Prachi was lightly pulling at his scrotum, squashing the balls together, as if she was milking a cow and his balls were the udders.

“I can do four. But why should I do it?” as soon as she finished her question, Prachi brought her face down on his dick, and took his entire dick in her mouth. She sucked on it, his dickhead reaching the beginnings of her throat.

“They…,” Harsh opened his eyes and touched her head. There was no need to direct her head, Prachi knew what she was doing. As she kept her face buried, Prachi constricted his scrotum, bringing her thumb and index finger in a tight circle around it.

“… they will pay for you,” Harsh said. As soon as Harsh finished speaking, he grabbed a clutch of Prachi’s hair, and raised his hip off, thrusting his dick inside her mouth, fucking her mouth.

Prachi’s eyes widened, not at the face fucking. She was used to it. But it was how she felt hearing it — they will pay for her. Her body was trembling, as Harsh fucked her face, furiously hitting her throat. Prachi, with her hand trembling, found her clit and started rubbing herself. For the first time ever, she felt her orgasm rise up that quickly, it’s effects all over her body, especially behind her head.

Her fiancee wanted her to be a gangbang bride. The hottest part about it all was that they will pay for her, pay to fuck her as a bride, pay to fuck her together. And they didn’t even need the money. Irony can be sexy at times.

Harsh had cum, with a loud grunt, his dick spurting his semen on her throat. Prachi coughed, feeling the thick hot fluid splashing the insides of her throat. She flinched away, trying to get his dick out. But all the while, she kept touching herself, bring her ever so close.

Suddenly, Harsh let her go. Prachi didn’t anticipate that, and was pulling away with all her force. With the release of his grip, Prachi overshot, and lost her balance. One of her hands stayed glued to her hot and wet pussy, and she used the other to soften her fall.

She lied on the floor, her body contorted in pleasure. She coughed, and with it some of Harsh’s cum oozed out of her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, as her orgasm thrashed through body, a kind of orgasm that she had never felt. Her body rose and fell, her bare skin grazing against the cold tiled floor. In the final moments before the orgasm hit her, she raised her hips off the floor and let out a guttural moan. She felt Harsh’s cum trickle down her cheek to the ears, but it didn’t matter.

When Prachi opened her eyes, Harsh was sitting spent on the couch, his dick still moist and shining from his cum and her spit. Prachi felt dazed, breathing through her mouth. She managed to smile finally. She had, after all, found the right man for herself.

Prachi, sitting on her matrimonial bed, the bed which was decorated with flowers, to be the place of a holy communion, was confused. She was confused why it was so easy for her to answer.

The cash on her lap, and the bundles of notes lying on the floor, meant nothing of worth. But, they were tokens. Tokens of her being a bridal whore. She decided to get married at an age of 24, because she was done being driven by the desires of flesh, being driven by the thrill of watching men twice her size weak in the knees as she grabbed them by their balls, as she tongued their most delicate organ. When she met Harsh, and when they started to know each other, she was all but certain that he’d complete all her needs. She was ready to be a tradwife.

And yet, here she was, being a bridal whore.

Prachi held the wad of cash toward Harsh, and simply said, “Yes.”

There was a chuckle among the men. Prachi looked up to the group of four men who had paid to fuck her on her wedding night, to fuck in the bed laden with flowers, decorated for her and her husband.

They were talking amongst each other, in low whispers, most likely about Prachi.

Harsh touched her arm, and took the cash. He collected the cash from her lap, and the ones lying near her feet. Prachi watched him intently. And when their eyes met, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her lips, and said, “This will be amazing.”

Harsh wanted to speak to the men, but they were all too busy talking with each other. He stood there for a moment, and then walked away to the couch, and sat down.

Prachi knew what was about to come, and yet it shocked her, when one of the men touched her chin. She flinched, which only made the guys chuckle softly. She saw them adjusting their masquerade masks, walking in front of her, effectively blocking the sight to her husband.

Before entering the room, they were guests in the party, the only four guests who had not given any gifts at the dias. Their gifts were with her husband now — the cash for her being a bridal whore.

One of them spoke first, “For a moment, I thought, you’d back out of this.”

As he said it, he placed his middle finger on the underside of her chin, and pushed it up. Prachi looked up, but he kept pushing it up. That’s when she understood that he wanted her to stand.

As she stood up, the men gathered around her, forming a circle. Her 5’1” frame looked tiny among them.

“Harsh says that you are not as delicate as you look,” the man in front of her spoke, “Let’s see how indelicate we can be with you.”

He reached straight for her throat. Prachi gasped, but she refused to let go of the eye contact with the man. But that little act of rebellion was short lived, because he soon started squeezing her throat.

Her hands reached out instinctively, the hushed artificial silence in the room, punctured by the vigorous clinking of her wedding bracelets. Right then, she felt her ass being groped.

“So many layers! It’s impossible to feel her up,” the guy who was groping her ass said.

Another one groped her breasts, squeezing them awkwardly through her blouse. Prachi’s opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was squeezed even harder. She looked at the men in the masks, the three of them touching her, playing with her in one or the another. The fourth man was out of her sight.

She finally heard his voice, familiar and cold, “Hold her arms, I want to undress her.

Prachi had imagined this a few times in her mind, with the four men around her, with her being the center of their attention. But, he’d never imagined the primal countenance of the men, the simple and rudimentary rhythm that the men around her fell into when it came to undressing her, to take off her bridal outfit, to strip her naked on her wedding night.

Two of them held her arms apart. The one who was squeezing her throat moved aside, and placed himself behind her. She knew he was behind her, because, he tugged at her veil, pulling it off her head. It slipped off her shoulder, exposing her red blouse. The thick gold necklace that Harsh’s parents had given her, the newly worn mangalsutra, for everyone to see, resting against her breasts.

And finally, the man who was patient, walked toward her. Prachi could finally see her husband again. He was watching her, he was watching everything intently. Prachi instinctively tried to pull her wrists out of the grips of the men, only to be tugged hard on both sides. The man behind her pulled at her hair hard, eliciting a groan from Prachi — a chuckle ran through the men.

It was the first time, that Prachi was scared before being stripped. She has been in precarious situations, but she has never been held that way. Yes, being pinned on the bed while a man was on top of her, grunting away, fucking her pussy, that she has. She had given as far as submissively keeping her arms back, without any restraints and let a man (a different man), fuck her face.

The man in front of her, the patient one, touched her naath, and then the thin gold chain that ran to the ear.

“You look so beautiful in this,” he tugged at the gold chain ever so slightly, “We were supposed to take this off, before any of us fucked you.”

He let it go, and pressed her lips with this thumb. The salty taste of his thumb invaded Prachi’s tongue. He pried her mouth open, pressing her tongue with his thumb. With his other fingers, he pressed the underside of her chin.

“That’s what we were talking about earlier,” he continued, “that who would do it.” Prachi tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Her attempts of speaking turned into indecipherable sounds, with her tongue pinned down by his thumb.

“We couldn’t decide who will take off your naath,” he started pushing his thumb deeper in her mouth, using her tongue to crawl inside. By then, Prachi had started drooling, her spit trickling down from the sides of her mouth, from being open unnaturally all that time.

And then, she felt the first piece of clothing being stripped. The man behind her, pulled her hair once again. It made Prachi wince, but with the thumb pressing down on her tongue.

“Uhgh,” that’s the sound Prachi could make.

She felt his fingers on the bare part of her back. He let go of his hair, and she felt her blouse being unhooked, obvious from the pressure she felt on her breasts as he tugged at the fabric to unhook the first one.

She felt her arms being pulled. She tried to turn her head to see the men on her side, but she couldn’t move her head. She rolled her eyes to the side, and saw one of them unzipping his trouser, and fumbling to unbutton it with one hand.

She felt the second hook of her blouse undone. Uhgh.

The other guy to her side, didn’t bother unbuttoning his trouser. He had already unzipped his trouser, and had fished out his dick. He held Prachi’s wrist and dragged her arm till her palm touched his dick.

The feel of the soft skin of a limp dick, was familiar to Prachi. The man squeezed her wrist, demanding her compliance. Prachi outstretched her fingers and touched his dick, rolling it in her fingers.

The third and last hook of her blouse was undone. She felt the blouse give away. It was made to fit her bust just right, and that meant, it was a notch tighter than in should have been. As soon as it was unhooked, she felt it loosen around her breasts.

The man on her other side, the one who was fumbling with his trouser, finally let go of Prachi’s arm. She tried to turn her head, but felt the vice-like grip on her chin. The man in front of her adjusted his masquerade mask and said, “Do you want to say something?”

Prachi nodded her head furiously. The man chuckled and let go of her face. With one hand free, Prachi wiped her chin, the drools of her spit that had made their way out, for being held open for that long.

The man on her side, whose dick was in her hand, was hard by then. He held Prachi’s hand, and urged her to stroke him. Prachi’s hand moved, an instinct over the years.

The man in front of her waited, his eyes through the mask fixed on her. The man behind her, didn’t wait to. With one swift motion, he unhooked her bra. Prachi’s free hand instinctively reached for her breasts, holding the unhooked blouse and bra in place.

But by then, the other man to her side had gotten out of his trouser, and stood, in just his shirt, with his dick dangling out. He pried her arm away, and placed it on his crotch. Prachi felt the warmth of his crotch. She saw him step on her saree, her wedding saree, half of which had fallen off her.

The guy behind her, placed his hands on the sides of bare waist, and squeezed them. It elicited a wince from Prachi. But he didn’t stop there, he ran his hands along her sides, finally reaching her breasts. He slipped his hands under her loose blouse, under her loose bra. His hands felt rough on her bare breasts, his squeeze painful. She heard the man whisper, “Wow” near her ears, as he played with her breasts.

The man in front of her sighed. He held her blouse and tugged at it, lowering it, to see her breasts being squeezed. With her arms outstretched, with a dick in each of her hands, the blouse won’t budge much.

“This is your chance to talk,” the man in front of her said, in a deliberate tone. He placed his finger on her throat, and pressed it.

Prachi was starting to get overwhelmed. In her fantasies, it wasn’t so overwhelming. She moved her hands in a rhythm, only to be urged by the men to stroke them harder. Her breasts were being squeezed by another. And the man in front of her, was pressing down on her throat, his fingers close to her matrimonial thread.

There was one word she had to say. Yes, these men had seen some of her breasts. And yes, she had touched their dicks. But it wasn’t that late. She could just say the word, and all this will stop, without a question.

The word was “Taj Mahal”, a fairly simple, off the internet word, that everyone in the room knew about. A safe word. Yes, all of you out there, who ever want to be a gangbang bride, or want to see your bride to be a gangbang whore, decide on a safe word. These things can quickly get out of hand. And words like “No” or “Stop” don’t have the kind of weight that they do in the vanilla world. in these kinds of situations.

Earlier, the man in front of her, had let go of her tongue, so that she could say it. He didn’t want her to say it, but, well, a deal’s a deal.

You’d think that Prachi was scared, that she wasn’t ready for taking four men. Yes, she’d never done in her life before, but a wedding night is about about firsts. Prachi didn’t want to say the word to stop everything.

“Be careful with my wedding saree,” Prachi said.

The men paused for a moment. The one to her side who had stepped on her saree, took his foot off it, and chuckled. And for the first time, since the four men started groping her, Prachi smiled.

Prachi felt her nipples being pinched, and they quickly harden under the touch of the man from behind. She felt the dicks in her hand become rigid, and warmer.

“Maybe we should take this off properly then,” the man in front of her said, tugging at her loose blouse and bra. Before Prachi could respond, he held her blouse and started pulling at it. Prachi had to let go of the two dicks that she was holding.

It happened in one swift go. The blouse and bra were off, her breasts bare, with only her new mangalsutra, lying against her bare chest, for all the men to see. She felt her saree being tugged. She tried to help, to untuck her saree from her peticoat, but the men were more motivated.

One hard tug on the knot of the peticoat, and collapsed at her feet. That was the first time that night when she felt wet, when it hit her that she was standing in the room, in her panties, with her wedding jewellery still on, on her wedding night, with four men. Four men, who had paid to fuck her, who had paid to fuck her raw.

To be continued

The story is completed and is available on my Gumroad store!