A wife’s transgression

Helpless mother raped in front of her preteen daughter

*For reader’s understanding

𝘼𝙥𝙥𝙖 – 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴

𝘼𝙢𝙢𝙞 – 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴

𝙆𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙮 (𝘰𝘳) 𝙆𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙖 – 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴

𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙯 – 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘳

𝙎𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙧 – 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘻

𝘿𝙪𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖 – 𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴

– – – – – –

I could feel the tranquil air, the calm, the peace all thrown out the door, the moment I walked into my apartment and saw him. He was playing with our daughter, who was about 10 now and was very receptive of his appearance there. How I managed to steel myself and walk in, without fainting, only god knew but at this moment I had given up all faith and hope of ever being free of this man’s clutches. My mother had been quite right, ‘no woman ever truly escapes a man who had her once’.

Keeping all the grocery bags aside, I glanced at the sink and groaned mentally, seeing newly kept unwashed dishes on the sink. I silently picked up the soap and scrub, and began to wash the unclean utensils, which my ex-husband never bothered to clean. One of his trademarks.

I pulled up the sleeves of my kameez and tied the dupatta around my waist, pushing my bangles to the elbow and began to work, taking refuge in the noise of the flowing water and the smooth textures of the foam, at regular intervals wiping off a brow of sweat from my forehead and distancing myself from my nightmare.

I had married him when I was 17 myself and he was several years older to me. Like the naive schoolgirl I was I rebelled against all, which included my family, my friends and my religion. I eloped with him and we settled in the city where he had a good job and I was hoping to finish my studies, which is when problems began to arise. He didn’t want me to leave the house. A sort of paranoia took over, where he believed I would leave him if I went out and so, he began to stop my college. I was already pregnant by the time I was finishing school and he was adamant that I remain a housewife, without even a discussion. Then the abuse began and the forced sex, which was always followed by beatings, almost like it was his way of apologising to me after treating me like nothing.

When our daughter was born, nothing changed. He loved her definitely but his attitude towards me was the same and so I decided to leave. When it came to signing the divorce papers, I was surprised when he did it without a fuss and thought maybe even he knew it was destroying us. But when he asked me to stay near him, I got fed up and moved to a completely new state without telling him, thus cutting all contact with him, hoping I would never see him again.

But here he was. Back in my life. And I had no clue how or even why.

“Appa look here na…now see what will happen…” I saw through a reflection as my daughter brought back her fathers attention from me to the TV screen, by pulling on his chin and he reluctantly turned and nodded, while still glancing in my direction.

He was waiting for me and he knew I was just stalling at this point. “Kutty, you continue, huh okay…I’ll have a talk with your mother, ok?” I saw her smile and close her eyes, as he stroked her head and got up from the sofa, walking towards me. I picked up an already clean plate and doused it in soap, making myself look busy and hiding my trembling fingers.

“You know,” he said after a long silence, which I judged was spent just staring at my back, “back there, you were always so fucking devout about your religion and all…now what happened? Huh? You’re wearing fucking bangles, no hijab or purdah? Suddenly it isn’t necessary anymore, without me around?”

It was true. I used to wear the hijab and burqa, all to hide the various bruises all over my arms, neck and face but I didn’t dare tell him that. I didn’t dare talk back. And the bangles, well I just knew it looked good on my hands but he wasn’t liking it. My independence. I froze when I felt his arms slip from under my own, my armpits producing a cold chilly sweat as his palms began to grope my breasts and with each compressions he seemed to press harder, moaning in my ears as I closed my eyes and my face fell in defeat.

“Oh, how I’ve missed this. This body, this beauty, this…oh no fucking words, truly.”

He felt like a winner to me. Like he had at last got what he had wanted. I could only imagine the fury he must have had while searching for me these last few months all culminating in the prize here. Me. I fervently hoped he had forgotten his fury.

“Remember all those times in the kitchen when I used to rape you? Goodness, your screams…it was deeper than my penetration.”

I looked back at him in disapproval and shook my head. The least he could do was mince his words and not state blatantly, but what did it matter anyway. He pulled me by my neck, making me look up to caress my throat, digging his finger into the skin, making me rasp in pain as he choked me. I opened my eyes and saw my reflection on the glass shelves, my eyes were bloodshot and I was tearing up.

He pulled me away from the sink, turned me around, grabbed my hands and pushed against me, pinning me between him and the sink. He smelled my soapy hands and sniffed noisily, grinning in a demonic manner. He pulled my face up by my chin and grabbed my throat with his teeth, kissing, sucking on the flesh there as I gulped aloud hoping he didn’t tear away in his frenzy. My eyes fell beyond the kitchen and I saw my daughter, staring back at me and looking away when I ushered her to cover her eyes.

When he had enough of my throat, he hummed a tune to himself after pinching my waist generously, making me lift a leg up instinctively in pain, as I prayed it would end.

As he began to remove his pants, he commented,

“Why wifey, you have grown all nice…flabby and fully figured, like a natural mother. Such fun for me, eh?”

I thought I had grown accustomed to his assault, knowing when what would happen but it had been some time, so I was left gasping for air, my soapy fingers slipping against the slab I was holding onto as I heard his comments. His pants dropped in front of me and I looked up to see him brandishing his dick to my face. I knew what was expected of me. I wiped my hands on my dress and slid down to the floor, my back scraping against the cupboards beneath the sink, till I was face to face with his dickhead. I hadn’t even got properly settled on my knees, when he began to glaze his prick with my lips, wetting it, making me look up and letting me know to remain submissive.

“Remember, don’t just suck my cock. Make love to it.”

Without a word I parted my lips, closing my eyes as I felt him enter my mouth along with his assortment of scents that burnt my nostrils. I sucked him like my life depended on it. And I willed myself to like it, believing if I made it pleasurable for me I could transfer the same to him and it would be over soon.

So I felt for every tendril of skin on his shaft, his foreskin which I lapped up hungrily graciously salivating at his engorged shaft and I felt my wetness down under, like it was reminding me of my womanness. every particle a memory, I kept coming back to again, as I went back and forth, bobbing my head almost in a meditative way. I could no longer tell what I was feeling, the shame, the regret all felt washed away and I could feel his pulse, which strangely made me smile, moaning through my teeth and overflowing saliva, ‘yes, come…come..and finish this ordeal,’ and I thought it was done.

Out of nowhere, I felt myself pushed back, pinned against the sink and him and he began to thrust into not just my mouth but down my entire throat cavity, desperate to reach even further to my mind. My eyes flew open and my lips burst open in surprise but still being blocked by his dick, it only let a few spurts of saliva out and he looked at me with almost disappointment.

I felt a burning sensation against my oesophagus, my wind pipe, causing me to flail my arms at him which he dragged behind me and pushed further till I felt afraid it would break and I held onto the steel pipe for dear life, as he raped my throat senseless. My eyes were only seeing his pubic hair pressed to my forehead, tickling my nose, he wasn’t even moving more than an inch, just probing sideways as my pain continued to stay stubborn.

He was moaning louder than I was gagging and gargling his dick, uttering noises like he didn’t care our daughter would hear him and began to increase his pitch, as he said he was coming. I waited in anticipation as his thrusting slowed, letting me breathe like a normal human for a while, and felt the first couple of trickling cum before a massive load erupted directly into my throat, causing me to back up violently where I hit my head in the cupboards and he loosened his grip. His dick slipped to my mouth, where my cheeks blew open as another load gushed into and I struggled to swallow his gooey semen.

The second he let go of me, I slipped twice on the floor struggling to get up and opened the tap to rinse my mouth, both surprised and disgusted at the taste of vomit that I had almost let out. The semen had still got in though but it wasn’t convincing enough to him, and he thought I had just spat it out. I began to cough raspily and heave as he dragged me by my hand to the bedroom.

At the entrance, I turned to shut the door after him, when he stopped outside.

“What?” I asked him. He didn’t answer, and only then did I realise, he had his wet dick still out in the open and our daughter was staring intently at it.

“Kutta, go to your room.” I motioned her to leave.

“At least dress yourself up, for god’s sake.” I placed myself in front of him and my daughter, blocking her vision of his hanging dick and tried to put it in, when I felt his hand on mine. I looked up to see him in sort of a trance, like he had found something important. He finally looked at me and said something I never imagined I would hear in my life.

“Take off your clothes. I’m gonna fuck you here, while she watches.”

I didn’t respond, after all what does one say to something as crazy as that, but when I saw him unbutton his shirt, I immediately began to panic. A knot began to form in my stomach as did a scream within myself. My entire body was perspiring, with nervousness and fear as I looked back and forth between him and my daughter.

“No, no…please, no.” I was on my knees, my hands literally folded in front of him, but he didn’t seem to budge. I had outlived his patient side by now and he flung me violently against the couch, pushing our daughter out of the way and tore my salwar from the shoulders, the rips revealing my white bra which was also flung away. I desperately crawled on the floor, trying to gather the torn bits to cover myself in front of my daughter.

I saw him address her and looked up, “Kutty you watch. Sit here,” he made her sit on a wooden chair beside the sofa, which she did obediently while looking to me for agreement but I was too shaken up to say anything coherent, “You sit here and watch what I do to your mother. I can’t believe I never thought about this.”

I grabbed at my useless bra on the floor and bemoaned aloud, “You’re mad if you think I’m going to let this happen.”

“There’s no choice.”

He dragged me by my hair back to the couch, as I yelped in pain. Lifting me up to his face, turning me around, he flopped me down on the sofa. Without giving me a chance to turn, he reached for my loose pants or the salwar, tore it down to my knees and brought only my hips up while pushing into my vagina forcefully.

I was so completely helpless with shock, not willing myself enough to fight back, when I began to understand the gravity of the situation. My pre-teen daughter was about to see her mother get forcefully raped by her own father, in full view, as some sort of lesson for my ‘mistake’.

At this point I was trying to make sure she saw less and remembered less.

“Kutty, close your eyes. It’s ok…ahh!” The slap on my ass made me wince in pain and I was reminded of his presence inside me. I nearly passed out when he beckoned our daughter closer.

“No. Leave her alone…”

“Don’t you worry, I’m just gonna show her how it’s done.”

He suddenly lifted my lower half with ease and shifted me so that I was now resting my forearms on the sofa, while my legs were sprawled with him between them and I was facing back where my daughter was. I didn’t know what she was seeing or what he was doing to her and kept complaining, sobbing uncontrollably, till I felt a weight on my back and realised he had made her sit on my back, like I was a rocking horse. Turning back I saw she was facing away from me, and had a direct view of his penis entering into me. I sang out in pain as he went up to my cervix and tried to lift me up with his dick in me.

I turned front with a jerk, my hair stumbling forward and I placed a hand on my mouth, shaking my head and weeping in a combination of shame, frustration and horror at my situation.

“You crazy monster! Do you realise what you are doing?” I shouted amidst his thrusts into my body. But I could have been talking to the wall for all I cared.

“Don’t listen to your mother, sweetheart. She’s actually enjoying this. Here, bend down and tell me what you see?”

“What is that?” I stiffened to her question and bent my head in shame.

“That, is my dick and see…see how wet it is, it’s because of your mother.” I felt him withdraw from me for a while to show her what I imagined to be his penis, and then he put it back in again.

My loud sobs made my daughter realise something was wrong apparently and she too began to cry, “Why is ammi crying? Is she hurt?”

“Please stop this. This will destroy my…our daughter.” I begged him again.

“It’s not hurting her…” he stopped fucking me and rubbed my clitoris with his fingers, while also mentally warning me that with a pinch he would make me suffer, “Ask her now.”

“Ammi? Ammi?” I felt her feet tap my breasts and I composed myself.

“It’s ok kutta. I’m not hurt.”

“Ask her to touch your hands. Go on, comfort her.” I pleaded with him but soon gave in and held her hands in mine, as I continued to be taken from behind.

“It’s ok, it’s just like a game…” I tried to convince her before he interrupted.

“It’s not a stupid game, you listen, this is how you were born from your mother. You want a sibling? A brother or sister younger to you?”

“I just want ammi to stop yelling.” he seemed to stop fucking me and pulled my hair to bring me upwards. Our daughter got out of my back as I completed this maneuvre and we stared into each other’s teary eyes, while he said angrily to me.

“Hear that. She will stop acting out, if you do. So shut up and take it.”

I fell forward on all fours and bucked against his thrusts rhythmically, everytime my eyes fell on my innocent little daughter next to me, causing me to go red with embarrassment and making me look like I was blushing with shyness. He brought me back by my throat whilst slowly moving into me, lifting my entire upper body and exposing my breasts to my daughter, which my ex-husband instructed her to look at, telling her one day she will have like mine. Her eyes seemed to pop up as she watched my breasts fall up and down rapidly with the thrusts into me, his fingers crept into my open mouth and made me gasp as he throttled my neck with the rest of his hand.

I began to convulse as my orgasm began to flow through me and he let me fall on my back to the couch. I had no energy left to defend my daughter as he brought her close to me and placed her hand against my throbbing cunt, which was expanding and contracting at the vulva, much against my wish, and more than the pleasure I welcomed the orgasm as it gave me time to regain composure from the unrelenting sobbing and rape.

He fell onto me and I mechanically put my arms around him as he began to fuck me again in missionary. I began to respond in a true manner, of how a woman would when having sex and gently moaned, rocking with him, letting myself feel his intrusions into me. He wrested my legs from underneath him and brought them over his back, from where I locked him into me like I would a lover.

I turned sideways and saw my daughter looking at me. I tried to understand her gaze. Was it a question? Was it amusement? Was it wonder or was it just a numbing shock? My childhood had never been perfect, bringing with it certain issues but it would nowhere be near my daughter’s and what she was witnessing. I knew it would change her perspective of me, herself and the world around her forever.

She went back to where my husband was pushing himself into me and stood there awhile, gazing almost affectionately. My husband had now begun to squeeze my breasts and deepen himself into me, causing me to moan inevitably as I began to bask in the pleasure of his balls sliding against my crotch. Seeing me utter those sounds, she stumbled across to my face and began to mouth a moan herself, like she was teaching herself how to respond. A couple of tears bathed my cheeks as I wept hopelessly in shame and I felt her tiny fingers wipe them away. I looked down to see her scratch her legs and she said she wanted to pee. I nodded to her to go and she tiptoed towards the bathroom. I dumbly stared at the ceiling whispering and muttering words of encouragement, caressing his rough hair, as he grunted and spilled his seed into my womb, promising that he would get me pregnant again.

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