Indian Village Girl trapped in USA Ch. 04

Suddenly, the upbeat rhythm of "Disco Deewane" started playing, filling the room with an infectious energy. Khan, with the grace of a panther, pulled Meghna to the dance floor, his hand securely placed on her hip while the other one captured her hand. Meghna was surprised by the rapid turn of events, her heart racing with undefined emotions. Yet, she decided to play along, allowing herself to be captivated by the rhythm Khan was setting.

"Isn't this the Student No 1 song?" Meghna asked, trying to place the familiar tune.

"That's blasphemy," Khan retorted, taken aback by her ignorance. "This is from the Queen, Nazia. "

"Nazia who?" Meghna innocently asked.

This evident ignorance regarding his teenage crush irked Khan, instilling a sense of irritation deep within him. However, he composed himself and kept his grumbling in check. The dance floor was his battlefield and he was playing to conquer, to lead her into his bed. His grip on Meghna tightened, sending a shiver down her spine.

As Nazia's velvety voice echoed around them, they kept dancing, their bodies synchronising with the rhythm, their eyes locked with intensity. Meghna might have been oblivious to the Pakistani queen's music, but was fully aware of Khan's compelling presence.

Soon, the rhythm changed, the thumping disco merging seamlessly into slow romantic melodies filled with double entendres. The flirty beats over, the music turned soulful now. The lyrics were deeply sensuous, yet wrapped in a veneer of sweet romance that lent them a mysterious allure.

Khan pulled Meghna closer, their bodies map against the other. His hands traced the line of her bare waist beneath her saree, sending ripples of excitement coursing through her body. Her breath hitched as he drew her even closer, her left breast pressing against his chest. His face was merely inches from hers, their proximity clouding Meghna's judgement.

Khan could see his reflection in Meghna's eyes, the intensity of their closeness reflected back at him. Those dark orbs of hers bloomed in excitement, matching his own escalating heartbeats. Craving the softness he saw in her, he cupped her face tenderly, leaning in to steal a taste of her sweetness. Under the spell of the music and the magic of the moment, Meghna closed her eyes, yet her body remained alive, every inch reminding her of his presence.

Their lips met, a delicate dance commencing between them, choreographed to the luxuriously amorous tune playing on the home theatre. At first, Meghna's lips were still, a silent reservoir of desire waiting to be provoked. Khan, however, was patient, his teasing finding their mark, guiding her response.

Slowly, Meghna succumbed to the temptation, her lips like petals unfolding in a beautiful rhythm with his. A wave of unexpected pleasure crashed over her, silencing the world around them. The music, their dancing bodies, that magical night, all culminating into this one fiery moment.

As they began to kiss, Khan's hands started moving down, tracing the maze of her curves. He cupped her buttocks, lingering there in audacity. Meghna was practically swept off her feet, her primal instincts taking over as she locked her knees around his waist. In a slow, deliberate motion, their longing leading the way,

Khan began to carry her towards their bedroom. Their lips remained intertwined. Khan's toe stubbed at the edge of the bed. The clumsy collision sent him tumbling, causing Meghna to land awkwardly on the plush carpet beneath them.

The fall seemed to jar her out of the heated fog of passion. In the midst of her disarray, a realisation dawned upon her. She had been in the embrace of her husband's boss, all while Prasad, her husband, lay unconscious somewhere in the garage.

Meghna's heart pounded like a frantic drum inside her chest, echoing in the silent room. Khan, with twinkling, mischievous eyes, reached out to lift her.

"No!" cried Meghna, protesting his intentions.

"It's okay, dear," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath prickling her skin. "The night just started. Let's have fun. "

Meghna's eyes widened in horror, and she pulled away from him. "No, it's wrong," she argued. He attempted to silence her with a kiss, but she pushed him back. "My husband is in the garage," she explained desperately, her voice barely above a whisper.

Khan gave her a devilish smirk. "Don't worry, he will be out for a while due to the amount of alcohol," he said, a wave dismissing her concerns.

She couldn't believe what he was suggesting. "No, I cannot cheat on my husband," she affirmed, shaking her head vehemently.

Enveloped by the sinister darkness, Khan stepped into her personal space once more. "It's okay dear, he won't know a word," he assured her, pulling her into a tight embrace. She tried to struggle, but his muscular arms were steadfast around her, trapping her in his unwanted hug.

His lips brushed against her skin as he started to trail damp kisses down her neck.. Fear consumed her, her mind buzzing with panic. His tongue travelled to her earlobes as he continued to mark his disgusting traces on her.

"Stop it!" Meghna shouted suddenly, jerking away from Khan's suffocating embrace.

With an anxious heart pounding against her chest, Meghna darted through the hall. Just then she felt an unexpected tug at her waist. Khan, having caught the trail of her saree, had cruelly yanked it off. Meghna gasped as her saree uncoiled from her body like a python, circling her bare feet in a cascade of silk. In that humiliating moment, stars exploded behind her eyes and she stumbled on the floor.

Horror-stricken, Meghna instinctually hugged herself, her arms clamping around her middle to hide the obvious vulnerability of her blouse-clad torso. A low chuckle reverberated in the room, and she looked up, petrified, at the face of her tormentor. Nonchalantly, he hoisted her up and tossed her onto the bed, as if she was nothing more than a doll.

Meghna was cornered by a predator The scene seemed to have jumped directly from one of those Nature documentaries in Nat Geo - the predator preparing for its kill. Khan was toying with his prey like a fox teasing a hare before the final blow. An uncanny silence hung over the room as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation of the impending horror.

Abruptly, the predatory dance began. Khan launched onto the bed with an agility that could put a jungle cat to shame, swiftly getting his catch where he wanted her. A lot of men made haste in these situations, caused by their overzealous instincts, ending up not just physically injuring the women but also leaving a tragic trail of rape and assault cases behind. But Khan... Khan was different. His approach bore a terrifying resemblance to those killer beasts stalking their prey on African plains. His approach was methodical, calculated.

Khan lifted Meghna's petticoat, exposing her vulnerability. He could see her panties were slightly wet. He pulled them so hard that they got torn and was briefly surprised. Meghna had a completely bald pussy unlike other desi women who either leave a muff or just trim there. Since she had waxed it only in the morning, she literally shone. Meghna immediately closed her eyes as he was seeing what should be a surprise gift to Steve.

He opened the pussy lips and then started assaulting Meghna's sin hole with his mouth. He held both her legs tightly with her hands leaving her no chance to escape. He proceeded to french kiss her other lips and slowly inserted his tongue inside her. Like those lions on the plains, straight for the neck, lethal, he proceeded to attack her pussy instead of tearing her clothes like the villains in 80s Bollywood movies do.

Meghna was lost in her predicament, her resistance weakening. At first, the struggle was intense, fiercely gripping the bed sheet beneath her to find a shred of control in her dire situation. She thrashed, she squirmed, but the grip of this predatory man was unrelenting, his audacious invasion persistent. He wouldn't back down until she had no energy left to fight.

"His tongue isn't great. Steve has a bigger one. Come out of the trance Meghna. Kick it out!" Her inner voice was shouting at her but her body was responding to the cunnilingus performed by Khan.

But then his tongue touched the roof of her vagina, hitting right at the G Spot and sending a wave of pleasure all over her body. Her body moaned 'Oh god,this guy knows exactly what to do and it's breaking my resolve.' Her legs had stopped thrashing, which was useless nevertheless as his hands held it so firmly.

In those moments where Meghna fought her battle, nature unfolded its age-old drama in an eerily magnificent tableau. This ghastly spectacle, as bleak as it was, reflected a grim narrative right out of a roiling savannah on a National Geographic episode, minus the calm comfort of Sir Richard Attenborough narrating the ordeal.

This was a different horror, real, raw, and undeniably petrifying. Khan continued his beastly exploits until Meghna's resolve abandoned her. Once fierce and sporadic, her struggles gradually subsided, her body giving in to the pleasure it had borne. Just like the helpless gazelle finally accepting defeat under the unyielding jaws of the lion king. The powerful predator had convincingly bested his prey, breaking her spirit.

Khan could see that she was mentally wrestling with herself; a whirlwind of emotions swept across her face betraying her inner turmoil. He sensed her resignation and her surrender even before she did. In her soft moans, he heard the symphony of a woman succumbing, the protagonist of a tale as old as time.

Being a man of the world, Khan knew the ways of his prey. The desi women, bound by the shackles of Indian male patriarchy they followed stringently, were the ones he found to be the most satisfying conquests. Their ignorance about their own bodies was but a symptom of their societal upbringing. They had been taught to covet their chastity for their husbands and to feel betrayal upon seeking pleasure from outside their matrimonial bond.

Yet, bodies are wired for desire. Pleasure is a language that transcends the boundaries of virtue and vice, creating a blinding haze of raw lust. The bodies of these women, repressed and misunderstood, reacted naturally to the stimuli that Khan wove around them, trapped in the sticky cobwebs of his desires. Their bodies were their own but were forever framed within the structures of patriarchy.

It was this weakness that Khan daringly exploited. It was the basis of his plan, the cornerstone of his conquest. He knew the importance of foreplay, the power it wielded to leave these women torn between guilt and pleasure. He took his time, stretching each moment into a tantalising eternity, coiling them up in cycles of desire and regret. It was a slow dance, a dangerous ballet of body against body, desire against morality.

By the end of it, Khan had the women begging for release, hostages to their own bodies. As time stretched on towards infinity, her surrender became more real, more profound. It was a tacit admission that she was his; not just physically, but mentally as well.

In this teetering moment, Khan revelled in his conquest. The challenge of turning the ever-chaste and dutiful desi women into willing, even hungering, participants was a high like no other. Once they succumbed to his deliberate temptations, their bodies now demanding his touch, Khan could taste victory. It was sweet, intoxicating, and utterly destructive. In the depths of their pleasure, he found his own.

As Meghna felt the waves of pleasure coursing through her body, there was a persistent thought sitting in the corner of her mind. Why hadn't Khan made any move at all? The mixed sensations of ecstasy and confusion left her in a strange limbo, bordering on the brink of climax yet restrained by her unsettling thoughts.

Travis had been all over her in minutes, dominating every square inch of her being with an uncontainable desire. The memories of Travis forcing himself on her sent a shudder of discomfort down Meghna's spine. On the other hand, Khan was vastly different. Almost fifteen minutes in, and he hadn't shown any sign of stopping his oral explorations. And all this without even seeking Meghna's explicit consent! She thought with a blush. Is he testing her patience? Is he trying to drive her desire to the edge and over? She pondered, as she felt herself being drawn in by the dichotomy of Khan's actions. Each passing minute was making her thoughts more difficult to keep together. Was this a sign of a different approach making her beg for further action?"

As her climax approached, Meghna finally let go of all her thoughts, succumbing to the pleasure. She no longer needed answers. She wanted to cum.

As their bodies intertwined in a graceful yet torrid dance of desire and allure, Meghna's moans formed a beautiful symphony with the feral rhythm of their passionate encounter. With each passing second, the crescendo of her pleasure heightened, indicating the inevitable climax. She was, without a doubt, on the verge of an explosive culmination, a realm Khan had painstakingly brought his past conquests close to, only to pull them back from the precipice.

However, tonight was different. Meghna wasn't just another conquest. There was something about her that made Khan's heart thump wildly, his blood run hot with desire, making it impossible for him to halt their feverish dance. Her innocence, combined with aroused sensuality, was like a moth flame he was irresistibly drawn to. Khan yearned, for the first time perhaps, to witness the most glorious spectacle - an absolute surrender of his partner's senses. His tongue continued to explore her, fueling her flaming desires rather than extinguishing them. This was a game he'd been playing for years, but Meghna was the first to see him defy the rules - rules that he himself had laid out - and surrender to an intense, unprecedented pleasure.

Meghna's pleasure erupted in the most spectacular way, throwing him back with the force of her release. He watched, awe-struck, as her breath hitched, her body shuddering with waves of the powerful climax ravaging her senses, as though her brain was set alight by the spectacularly pyrotechnic encounter. Silence fell over them in the aftermath of their fiery rendezvous.

As Meghna was trying to collect her breath back from the most amazing oral encounter and analyse the situation, Khan had already removed his pants and underwear. He nonchalantly rolled her off and pulled her hips up. Meghna knew what he wanted and positioned herself in doggy position. Khan kept rubbing his penis at the entrance of her vagina, teasing her as his tip was collecting the wetness. This was a game he often played with his partners, to make them feel more helpless and dependent on him.

Meghna waited for a couple of minutes, hoping he might insert, but realised that he was just trying to play with her and then shouted back, "Daalna he to daal bhosdike, nakhre mat kar!"

Khan lost all the blood in his veins. By this time, all the women he conquered were much more docile and never put up a fight. But Meghna was the first woman who realised his plan and literally dared him to fuck her. He knew nothing could come from teasing anymore, and in order to save face, he needed to insert himself into her pussy.

"Wow," he exclaimed as his cock easily slid into the already wet pussy.

Meghna could barely contain her excitement, allowing her to enjoy every inch of his long and thick cock as it went into her pussy. He was amazed how tight she was for the first time he made it inside. He also noticed Meghna wanted to scream because she was so damn wet. He smiled as his hands reached her massive asscheeks and caressed them while pulling her body towards him.

With his free hand, he managed to grab her tits and squeeze them. Meghna gasped as he gave her another squeeze, then whispered in her ear, "Now... be a good nari and show me how much of a slut you really are."

While at the party, Khan remembered eyeing Meghna's body. Even though she was wearing a chiffon saree, it clung to every curve of her body, making her look extraordinarily sexy. He knew a lot of guys were making excuses to get an eye on her. Her breasts weren't massive but they complimented her thin waist and shapely hips. Khan wanted to see how they looked inside her blouse. If he didn't make a move, he might never see them.

Khan bent down and embraced her from the back but he was rapidly removing the hooks of her blouse, fingers grazing her bare skin unhurriedly and yet with an unsettling efficiency. A shiver of trepidation surged through her as she considered the potential aftermath. But as she lay there, vulnerable under Khan's dexterous hands, she didn't resist. After all, he might end up tearing the blouse. And what excuse could she offer to justify such an incident to her husband?

Once the final hook came undone, Meghna felt a sudden pinch on her back, snapping her out of her trance. Khan had unclipped her bra with a single, fluid stroke. Meghna felt a sense of relief easing the tightness around her chest, but the way Khan had effortlessly unclasped her bra left her stunned. Prasad would have struggled with such a task for all eternity.

Khan quickly bent down and pushed her bra down. Now his hands were cupping her soft but firm breasts which completely filled them. He kept squeezing them like a lorry horn while his cock was ramming into her pussy. Meghna kept moaning as he kept squeezing her breasts indicating that she liked this rough treatment. His fingers traversed around her nipples and then kept feeling it like a blind man reading braille. Without any warning he pinched them between his thumb and index fingers and twisted them sharply, making Meghna wince.

Meghna was trying to process both the pleasure from Khan's penis on her pussy and the pain he was inflicting on her breasts. She never realised she would love such rough sex which included pleasure and pain.

Khan knew he had her in the zone but he wanted to see her headlights which had been desired by every man earlier. He held both her wrists in his hands and pulled her up and then adjusted his position. Now he was doing doggy while holding her steady. The room accommodated a grand mirror, positioned conveniently in sight of the bed. Khan orchestrated their bodies to offer him, and more importantly Meghna, the complete reflection of their intertwined frames. Meghna couldn't help but steal glances at her own reflection, her curiosity trumping any sense of shyness. It was the first time her eyes were being exposed to the mesmerising dance of desire.

She was uncharacteristically messy, her recently salon-braided hair a cascade of tousled waves. Her petticoat, previously neatly pinned, now hung chaotically across her waist. The peach cloth of her blouse lay wide open, revealing the lace boundaries of her bra that had slipped beneath the swell of her breasts.

Her pussy, completely devoid of any hair, was getting pounded by Khan's cock and each stroke was creating a vibration across her body from head to toe. Her face was contorting and her breasts were jiggling rhythmically with each thrust. Meghna had never seen any porn movies but she was seeing her own live enactment. Little did she know that the mirror was a two way, and it hid a video camera recording her shenanigans.

In fact, there were sixteen cameras across the penthouse and his bedroom, with eight discreet cameras, documenting his debauchery in its crudest form. Meghna, unaware of the exquisite camera placements, was lost in Khan's rhythm, oblivious to her personal enactment being recorded from multiple angles. With each powerful stroke he landed, he painted a picture of erotic fiction in the bedroom that vibrated rhythmically. Her every wince and sigh of pleasure became a silent score to the gruesome play that was about to unfold. His bedroom was also rigged with mischievously hidden boom microphones that captured every sound, from the soft moans to the pounding thumps echoing through the room. His noise cancellation software filtered out background noises, focusing on the passionate symphony woven between Khan and Meghna.