Hotel Sapphire

He pushed the dildo inside me.

I screamed again ... louder this time, my voice raw and desperate. The vibration was overwhelming, hitting nerves I didn’t know I had, filling me in a way that made my vision blur.

“Look at me,” Rahul commanded.

I forced my eyes open. He was watching my face, his expression intent, almost clinical, as he worked the toy in and out of me.

“Who’s making you feel this way?”

“You,” I gasped. “You are...”

“No,” he said, and he pushed the dildo deeper, the vibration intensifying. “Think about who prepared this room. Think about who’s outside that door. Think about who bought the lube, who touched this toy, who made this moment possible.”

“Nutty...” I sobbed.

Rahul chuckled.

“Is that what you call him? I don’t think I’ve heard you call him by his nickname before.” Rahul’s voice was low. “Yes ... your Nutty ... your husband ... is making this happen. He’s the reason you’re lying on these rose petals. He’s the reason you’re full of this toy. He’s the reason I’m watching you come apart.”

His words, the situation, the depravity of it all ... were having an almost hypnotic effect on me. I was close... so close.

The pleasure was building like a wave, and beneath it was a dark current of something I couldn’t name, something that felt like betrayal and liberation all at once.

“Come for him,” Rahul said. “Come for your husband. Let him hear what he’s done to you.”

I shattered.

My body convulsed, my back arching off the bed, a scream escaping my throat. The orgasm was overwhelming ... intense and endless ... and as it crashed through me, I heard myself crying out, wild sounds of pleasure that I knew were carrying through the door.

Hear that, Nutty? That’s what you made. That’s what you wanted.

Rahul didn’t stop. He kept the dildo inside me, kept the vibration going, and I came again ... and again ... my body writhing on the rose-petal-strewn bed, my voice hoarse from screaming.

---

When he finally pulled the toy out, I was limp, trembling, tears streaking my cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice satisfied. “But we’re not done.”

He stood up and started undressing ... pulling off his shirt, unbuckling his belt, stepping out of his pants. I watched him through half-closed eyes, my body still buzzing with aftershocks.

“Get up,” he said.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Get up. I want to take you somewhere else.”

I rose on shaky legs, my thong still pushed aside, my body slick with sweat and arousal. Rahul crossed to the balcony doors and threw them open. The night air rushed in, cool against my heated skin.

“Out here,” he said.

The balcony was private, overlooking the terrace below, and from certain angles, someone standing down there would be able to see us.

“Rahul...” I started.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, his voice calm.

I looked at him. At the way the moonlight caught his chest. At the way his cock stood hard and ready. At the certainty in his eyes.

He knows what he’s doing. He wants to be seen. He wants me to be seen. In that moment, I trusted Rahul with my entire being.

I turned and walked to the balcony railing. It was as if by instinct, I knew what he wanted. How he wanted to take me.

Or maybe it was how I wanted to be taken?

The night was warm, the air thick with the sounds of insects and distant animals. Below, I could see the terrace ... luckily no one was there.

Rahul came up behind me. His hands found my hips, and he bent me forward over the railing. His thumbs hooked through my thong, and he unceremoniously pulled them down my legs and I stepped out of them.

The wood was rough against my palms, the night air cool on my exposed skin. I was bent at the waist, my back arched, my ass presented to him like an offering.

“Look at the view,” Rahul said, his voice low. “All those stars. All that darkness.”

I looked up at the sky, at the millions of stars visible above the grasslands. I felt exposed, vulnerable, on display for the entire world.

The necklace swung between my breasts as he moved. I reached up to touch it ... to hold onto something solid ... but Rahul’s hand found mine first, pressing it into the railing.

Let them see. Let them all see what my husband has made me.

Rahul positioned himself behind me. I felt the head of his cock at my entrance, slick and ready.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, and I meant it. “Yes. Please. Take me, Rahul.”

He pushed inside.

I gasped, gripping the railing as he filled me. Every time with Rahul, it felt like the first time. Every time.

He started moving ... slowly at first, then faster.

“Are you thinking about him?” Rahul asked, his hips snapping against mine. “Are you thinking about your husband?”

“Yes...” I moaned.

“Good. He’s probably thinking about you too. He’s probably touching himself right now, wishing he was the one inside you.”

The words sent a jolt through me. I was on fire again, the pleasure building despite ... no ... because of the obscenity of the situation. I was being fucked on a balcony, bent over a railing, by a man who wasn’t my husband, and all I could think about was that my husband might be watching. Might be hard and desperate and wishing he could trade places.

“Harder,” I heard myself say. “Please ... harder...”

Rahul obliged. His grip on my hips tightened, and he started pounding into me, each thrust driving me against the railing. The wood bit into my palms. The night air rushed over my skin. The sounds of our bodies meeting were obscenely loud in the quiet.

I didn’t try to be quiet.

I let myself moan. I let myself cry out. I let myself make every sound that was building in my chest, knowing ... hoping ... that somewhere below, Nitin might hear. Might see. Might know that I was coming undone.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

This is what you prepared me for.

This is what you made.

“Come for me,” Rahul commanded. “Come on my cock.”

I did.

The orgasm ripped through me, harder than the ones before, and I screamed into the night ... loud, uninhibited, desperate. Rahul followed me over the edge, his hips jerking against me as he spilled inside me, his groan mixing with my cries.

For a moment, we stayed like that ... me bent over the railing, him pressed against my back, both of us gasping for breath.

Then he pulled out, and I felt his release trickling down my thigh.

“Beautiful,” he said again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

I straightened slowly, my legs shaking. I was a mess ... sweat-slicked, covered in marks, with rose petals probably stuck to my back. I turned to face Rahul, and he was smiling, satisfied, possessive.

“Let’s go back inside,” he said, his fingers interlocked with mine. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I followed him, holding his hand, my body still trembling, my mind a haze of pleasure and guilt.

---

Nitin Narrates:

I stumbled away from the Maharajah suite, away from the sounds that were still echoing in my head ... Komal’s moans, the mechanical buzz of that fucking dildo, the wet sounds of Rahul using her. I couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t stand in that hallway like a dog waiting for scraps.

My feet carried me downstairs, through the lobby, out the main entrance. The bonfire had died down to gray-orange embers, the staff who’d been singing and drinking earlier had dispersed. The terrace was empty.

Empty and quiet.

I kept walking, past the fire pit, past the cluster of chairs, toward the edge of the property where the manicured lawn gave way to the bushes and small trees that bordered the lodge. There was a bench there, half-hidden by foliage, facing towards the lodge.

Secluded and dark. Perfect.

I sat down heavily, my head in my hands.

Pimp.