Rajveer carried Priya from the balcony straight to the bedroom, her legs still wrapped around his waist, his cock half-hard and slick with their mixed cum inside her. Cum leaked down her thighs with every step, leaving wet trails on the marble floor. He threw her onto the massive bed like she weighed nothing—red silk sheets cool against her overheated skin.

Priya lay there panting, breasts heaving, pussy swollen and dripping his load. The mangalsutra rested between her tits, the only thing she still wore. Rajveer stood at the foot of the bed, stroking his cock back to full hardness as he looked at her spread open for him.

“This is your home now,” he said, voice rough. “And in this haveli, my wife stays naked. Always. I want this body ready for my cock any time I want it.”

Priya bit her lip, nodding. The filthy words made her pussy clench, pushing more cum out onto the sheets.

The next ten days were their private honeymoon—no servants allowed in the main wing, food left at the side entrance, the entire sprawling haveli theirs alone.

Rajveer kept his promise.

Priya never wore a single piece of clothing. Not once.

She woke every morning to his mouth on her pussy—slow, lazy licks while sunlight streamed through the curtains. He would eat her until she came on his tongue, then flip her over and fuck her from behind, filling her again before breakfast.

They bathed together in the huge marble bathroom. He sat on the wide edge of the tub while she rode his cock, water sloshing over the sides, her tits bouncing in his face. He sucked her nipples hard, biting just enough to make her scream, then held her hips and pounded up into her until she squirted all over his stomach—her first time ever. He growled in approval, calling her his dirty little wife as he filled her cunt again.

Meals were filthy too.

Breakfast on the private terrace: Priya sat naked on his lap, feeding him fruit while he finger-fucked her slowly under the table. He made her hold the edge of the chair while he ate mango slices off her breasts, licking the juice that dripped down her stomach straight to her clit.

Lunch in the dining hall: he bent her over the long teak table and fucked her ass cheeks first—sliding his cock between them, using her pussy juice as lube—before pushing into her cunt from behind. He pulled her hair, made her watch their reflection in the polished silver tray: her tits pressed flat on the wood, mouth open, eyes rolled back as he railed her.

Afternoons were for exploring the haveli naked.

He chased her through the long corridors—both completely bare—until he caught her against a pillar. He lifted her easily, pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, and fucked her standing, her legs wrapped around him, bangles jingling with every thrust.

In the library, he sat in the big leather chair and made her ride him reverse—her back to his chest, legs spread wide over the armrests so he could play with her clit while she bounced on his cock. Bookshelves surrounded them, old volumes watching as he made her squirt again, soaking the antique rug.

One evening, he took her to the indoor swimming pool—a hidden room with warm blue water and soft lighting. He fucked her slow in the shallow end, her breasts floating, nipples just above the surface. Then he turned her around, pressed her tits against the cool tile edge, and took her hard from behind—water splashing, her screams echoing off the walls. He reached around and rubbed her clit until she came so hard her legs gave out. He held her up and kept pounding until he filled her pussy again, watching his cum float in cloudy strands in the water.

At night, they roamed the rooftop under the stars.

He laid her on a thick mattress he had prepared, oiled her entire body until she glistened, then fucked her slow and deep—missionary so he could watch every expression on her face. He whispered filthy things the whole time:

“This cunt was made for my cock.”

“You’re going to take my cum in every hole before this honeymoon ends.”

“I’m going to make you pregnant soon—my seed deep inside you every day.”

Priya moaned louder with every word, her innocence long gone. She begged for it now—begged him to use her harder, dirtier.

One night, he made her crawl to him on the rooftop—naked on all fours across the cool stone, tits swaying, ass high. When she reached him, he sat on the edge of a lounge chair and fed her his cock. She sucked him eagerly now, no more shyness—taking him deep, gagging, drool running down her chin onto her breasts. He held her hair and fucked her mouth until tears ran down her cheeks, then pulled out and came all over her face and tits—thick ropes painting her skin white.

He rubbed it in with his fingers, marking her completely.

“Wear my cum to bed,” he ordered.

She did. They slept tangled together, his seed drying on her skin.

Another night, he tied her wrists loosely to the headboard with his silk tie—just tight enough that she couldn’t touch herself. He spent hours teasing her: licking her pussy until she was on the edge, then stopping. Fingering her slowly, sucking her nipples, whispering how wet and desperate his wife was. He edged her four times before finally letting her come—screaming, body shaking, pussy squirting onto the sheets.

Only then did he fuck her—hard, relentless, until he emptied himself inside her again.

By the end of the ten days, Priya walked the haveli like she owned it—naked, confident, always wet. She no longer flinched when he bent her over randomly in a hallway or made her drop to her knees in the kitchen.

She craved it.

One afternoon, as they lay spent in the master bedroom—sunlight warming their bare skin, his cum leaking from her well-fucked pussy—she turned to him and whispered, “Rajveer ji… I never want to wear clothes again when we are alone. I want to stay like this… always ready for you.”

He pulled her on top of him, sliding his hardening cock back inside her easily.

“Good,” he growled, thrusting up slow and deep. “Because I’m never done with this body. Not ever.”

Their dark, filthy honeymoon was only the beginning.

To be continued…