Bachelors Party

**Immaculate**

The water was hot enough to sting. Steam rose in thick curtains around the marble tub, carrying the scent of rose and sandalwood. Immaculate sank deeper, long dark hair floating around her shoulders. The bruises from a few nights ago still clung to her thighs and breasts. Today was her wedding day, and the memory would not leave her alone.

She winced when the water touched between her legs. Her fingertips brushed the tender inner lips of her pussy and felt the faint, blooming bruises—purple-blue shadows on the soft flesh of her breasts where teeth and fingers had been too hungry, a deeper ache low in her cunt where she had been stretched and used until she was shaking. Her nipples were still sensitive and dark. She pressed a palm over one and exhaled slowly through her nose.

In a few hours she would stand in white silk and lace, smiling for cameras and family, while her new husband waited at the altar. The same husband who would later undress her slowly, expectantly, believing he was the first to claim what lay beneath the white lehenga.

She imagined his hands sliding the fabric up her thighs, tracing the curve of her hips, then lower. What if his fingers paused on the fading bruises? What if his mouth against her breast found the place where another man’s teeth had already left their claim? What if, when he parted her legs for the first time, he saw the faint shadows that spoke of a cunt already used?

The marriage she had planned already felt fragile, balanced on the bruises between her thighs and the fear that he would see every place she had already been taken. She had told herself it was one night only—a final, deliberate gift to the version of herself that would disappear after the wedding. But the body remembered. The ache between her legs was a private ledger she could not erase.

On the marble ledge her phone lit up.

A WhatsApp message from an unknown number. No text—only a video.

She opened it.

Immaculate’s thumb froze on the screen. The villa’s main bedroom appeared under soft yellow light. Her own body, still half-wrapped in the white wedding lehenga she had worn that night, blouse unbuttoned and pulled open, breasts hanging heavy and marked. Amey behind her, one hand fisted in her long dark hair, the other locked on her hip hard enough to leave the exact bruises that still ached beneath her bathwater. Her mouth open in a silent, desperate cry while he fucked her deep and relentless, the lehenga hiked to her waist, the embroidered fabric bunched and ruined.

The scene cut.

Shivani was on her knees. Her glasses were fogged. Both hands gripped Amey’s thighs as his cock rested against her face, saliva glistening on her chin.

The scene cut again.

Teju was bent over the edge of the bed, her thick ass already flushed and marked from the spanking. She looked back over her shoulder with a filthy, delighted smile as Amey drove into her pussy from behind.

The video ended. A single line of text appeared.

*You know what happens if this reaches your fiancé. Call me.*

Immaculate’s pulse thudded hard in her throat. Shock and terror flooded her at once. How could someone send this—on her wedding day? The water no longer felt hot. A sudden cold settled deep in her chest, sharp as the knowledge that the night she had chosen as her private rebellion now belonged to someone else. Someone who could destroy the careful future she had built.

She set the phone down. Water dripped from her wrist onto the screen. For a long moment she simply sat there, the threat sitting in the steam like a second presence. Then the memory returned, impossible to ignore.

---

**FLASHBACK — A FEW DAYS EARLIER**

The villa was luxurious: high ceilings, white stone floors, the scent of night-blooming jasmine drifting through the open arches. Music played low. Bottles of wine and vodka already stood half-empty. Only a handful of women were attending the bachelor’s party, but Immaculate’s two best friends, Shivani and Teju, were already flushed and laughing.

Immaculate moved among them in the white bridal lehenga she would wear on her wedding day—heavy gold zari tracing the deep neckline that framed the soft upper curves of her full, heavy breasts, sheer sleeves clinging to warm skin that flushed easily across her chest and cheeks, a high side slit that revealed the soft flash of her thick thighs with every step. Long crystal earrings brushed her collarbones. She looked every inch the daughter of a wealthy businessman. A smile curved her lips as the alcohol softened the light behind her eyes and deepened the warm flush spreading across her skin. Faint rose and sandalwood perfume drifted from her as she passed, mixed with the natural heat of her body.

Shivani sat curled on the low couch, thin-rimmed spectacles catching the light each time she shifted. Fair skin already flushed pink across her cheeks. Her face held that rare, soft beauty—the kind that could turn a boy’s heart upside down before he even knew why. Her body was thin and petite, delicate in every line, the soft swell of her small breasts pressed gently against the simple black one-piece dress, the round curve of her ass settling deep into the cushions. Every time the talk turned filthy, she bit down on her lower lip.

Teju sat right beside her, her short frame almost bouncing with restless energy. Warm brown skin glowed under the light, and that constant mischievous smile never quite left her lips—like she was always two seconds away from saying something filthy just to watch people react. Her black one-piece clung tightly, the fabric stretched over medium, soft breasts that shifted with every small movement. Lower down, her heavy, round ass pushed hard against the material, the curves deep and obvious no matter how she sat. Even when she tried to look innocent, her husky voice gave her away—low, naughty, and full of barely restrained suggestion.

“When is that guy coming?” Teju asked, swirling her vodka glass. “The escort you booked?”

Immaculate laughed. “He’s coming. Relax.”

“Good. I was starting to think you’d cancelled.”

“Why would I?” Immaculate smiled. “One last gift to myself before the wedding. Before the proper life begins.”

The doorbell chimed.

Amey stepped inside. Tall, lean, gym-built, dressed in a simple black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled once to his forearms, dark slim-fit jeans that sat low on his hips, and plain black sneakers. The shirt was tucked just enough to hint at the flat, hard lines of his stomach. Dark hair neat. Thoughtful eyes that flicked once around the room and then froze.

He had been told there would be one girl. Maybe two at most. Not this.

His gaze moved across the room: Shivani, Teju, and the others, all watching him. A faint flush rose under his skin. His eyes dropped quickly, almost embarrassed, then lifted again despite himself, lingering a moment too long on the curves of Teju’s black dress and the way the other girls were already looking him over.

He cleared his throat, voice low and a little rough.

“…I, uh… wasn’t told there would be this many.”

Teju’s husky laugh was soft and naughty. She stepped closer, hips already swaying.

“With this many girls here, don’t you feel tempted?” she said, circling him first, openly appraising. Her heavy round ass rolled under the tight black one-piece as she moved. She stopped in front of him, short enough that the soft press of her medium breasts nearly brushed his stomach, her face near his chest. She drew in the scent of his perfume and tipped her head back to look up. That constant mischievous smile curved wider.

“You’re so shy.”

Amey’s eyes flicked down to her for a second, then away, a shy flush on his face. He did not step back, but his hands slowly settled on her curves.

A few steps behind, Shivani watched through her spectacles, lips slightly parted. Her cheeks had deepened in color; she kept adjusting the frames while her gaze drifted over the lean lines of his body under the black shirt.

Teju’s naughty smile lingered as she pressed up on her toes, soft lips brushing the side of Amey’s neck in a slow, deliberate kiss. Her fingers gave his bicep a light, teasing tug, holding him there a second longer while the girls around the room erupted in cheers and playful shouts.

Immaculate watched from a few steps away, the elegant hostess with her wine glass balanced easily between manicured fingers. Heat was already gathering low in her belly. She placed the glass aside briefly and took Amey’s hand. “Come here,” she murmured. Teju steered him toward the sofa.

Immaculate sank onto his lap in one fluid motion, her soft ass pressing firmly against him as she settled. The girls tossed roses that scattered across the floor and the cushions around them.

Immaculate picked up her glass again, tilted it to his lips, and made him take a slow sip of the wine. The moment he swallowed she leaned in and kissed him, tasting it on his mouth, her body shifting slightly in his lap so he felt every curve.

Teju slid in beside them on the sofa, already holding a couple of vodka shot glasses. She pressed one into Amey’s mouth, then another, laughing softly as she talked to him between sips—light, teasing questions, little comments that kept him answering even as the vodka burned down.

Half an hour later the room had grown thick with heat and the low pulse of music. Roses lay crushed under bare feet. Wine and vodka had loosened every tongue and every restraint. Amey’s eyes were heavier, his words slower. The alcohol was doing its work. Immaculate still settled across his lap, her heavy bridal lehenga spilling over his thighs, his cock rock-hard each time she shifted her soft ass against him. Teju pressed close on one side, one hand resting openly on his chest, the other already working at the buttons of his black shirt with slow, deliberate fingers.

Other girls hovered in the periphery with wine glasses raised; another curled on a nearby cushion whispering and laughing under her breath, eyes fixed on the sofa. Their presence was constant: soft cheers when Teju popped the first button free, a low “yes, take it off” when Shivani stood behind the sofa and hugged him from behind, her head resting on his shoulder, small breasts pressing softly against his back through the thin black one-piece.

Teju’s husky voice cut through the murmur. “Look at you. Still trying to be polite.” She pushed the second button free, then the third, revealing the hard plane of Amey’s chest and the faint trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Her fingertips traced the muscle, lingering. “Feel that, girls? He’s already hard under her.”

Immaculate felt it—thick and insistent against the soft weight of her ass through the layers of silk and embroidery. Heat bloomed low in her belly. She rolled her hips once, deliberate, and watched his jaw tighten. Her own lehenga stayed fully in place; the deep neckline only shifted enough to show more of the soft upper curves of her breasts, the sheer sleeves still clinging to her arms. She had no intention of stripping. Not yet. Not completely.

Shivani’s arms tightened around him from behind. Her soft cheek brushed the side of his neck as she watched Teju’s hands work.

Teju freed the last buttons and shoved the shirt open. Shivani helped from behind, peeling it down his arms until the fabric was gone, tossed carelessly onto the crushed roses. Amey’s torso was bare now—lean, gym-cut, skin already warm under their hands. The girls clapped softly. One of them called out, “Nice,” and the others laughed.

Immaculate slid from his lap in a slow, deliberate motion, the heavy embroidered lehenga pooling around her as she sank to her knees between his spread thighs. The silk whispered against the stone floor. Shivani followed at once, spectacles slightly askew, cheeks already flushed deep pink as she dropped beside her. Teju stayed half-kneeling on the sofa for a moment longer, then swung her legs down and joined them, the three women forming a tight circle of soft mouths and eager hands at Amey’s feet.

He stood.

The black jeans came down under his own hands, clumsy with drink and arousal. Boxers followed. His cock sprang free—thick, already rigid, the head flushed dark and glistening at the tip. A faint, clean musk rose from the base of him, mixed with the warmer scent of skin and the lingering trace of whatever cologne he had worn earlier. It was sharp enough to cut through the wine and perfume in the room, intimate and unmistakably male.

Immaculate was the first to lean in. Her tongue traced a slow line along the underside, from the heavy base to the sensitive ridge just beneath the head. The taste was clean at first—skin and faint salt—then richer as she reached the bead of fluid already gathering there. She closed her lips around the tip and sucked gently, drawing more of that taste onto her tongue while her fingers wrapped the shaft and stroked in short, teasing pulls.

Shivani’s smaller hand joined hers, delicate fingers sliding lower to cup and roll his balls with a curious, almost shy pressure. Then her mouth replaced Immaculate’s for a moment, lips stretching around the head, spectacles fogging faintly from the heat of her breath. She made a soft, surprised sound in her throat at the weight of him against her tongue.

Teju laughed under her breath, husky and delighted. She licked a wet stripe up the side of his cock while the other two still worked him, then sucked the head between her fuller lips with more force, cheeks hollowing. The taste of him coated her tongue—salt, skin, the faint bitterness of precome—and she hummed around him as if she liked it.

Amey’s head tipped back. A low, broken sound escaped him. His hands hovered uselessly above their heads for a second before one settled in Immaculate’s long dark hair and the other found the soft nape of Shivani’s neck. Every wet slide of tongue, every tight pull of lips, every soft scrape of teeth along the shaft sent tight pulses of heat through his gut. His thighs trembled as their mouths worked him, open and eager.

He couldn’t take any more. Immaculate and Shivani were sucking him so hard he was about to lose control. With a rough breath he pulled both of them back. Their warm, wet mouths left him hard, aching, and shiny.

Immaculate looked up at him with dark eyes. Her lips were swollen and open. Shivani’s tongue licked the tip one more time, like she didn’t want to stop.

He rubbed his hand over his face to catch his breath.

Then Teju stepped in. She didn’t even let him rest. Her hand slid along his hip and she took him deep into her mouth in one smooth move, filling the space the other two had left.

The other women watched quietly from the sides of the room. They looked eager. The air felt hot and heavy.

He lifted Immaculate into his arms. The dress whispered around her legs as he carried her the short distance into the bedroom. The others followed more slowly—Shivani and Teju close behind, the rest of the women lingering near the doorway and along the edge of the bed, their presence still felt.

He set her down on the mattress. Her dark hair and the white fabric of the dress fanned out across the sheets. This time he reached for a condom, tore the packet open, and rolled it on with steady hands. He bunched the white lehenga up around her waist, slipped off her panties, and settled between her thighs.

He pushed in slowly at first, then harder once her body opened for him. The force left faint reddish marks where his fingers pressed into her hips and the soft flesh of her outer thighs. Each thrust dragged the stiff lace of the dress against both of them; the sound of it mixed with the quieter sounds she made.

Immaculate’s hands stayed on his chest, then slid lower. She pinched the tip of the condom, rolled it off, and guided his bare cock inside her. The sudden change in sensation pulled a rough breath from him. She met his eyes and kept her voice calm.

“Go ahead. I want it like this.”

He didn’t argue. The others stayed close—one stroking Immaculate’s hair back from her face, another resting a palm against Amey’s shoulder blade. No one interrupted.

Amey drove into her without the barrier now, the heat and wetness of her surrounding him completely. The rhythm grew rougher, the bed shifting under them. Immaculate’s legs tightened around his waist; her breath broke against his neck.

When he was about to come, he said, “This is a gift for your husband,” and came inside her. He finished in long pulses, still moving through it, the white of the wedding dress bunched and damp between their bodies.

She kissed him.

He stayed buried in her for a long moment afterward, forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. The others gave them that small private space, hands still present but lighter now, simply keeping the circle around the bed.

The group of girls pulled him back from Immaculate. Several hands moved over him at once—soft cloths wiping him clean, warm fingers stroking his cock, tongues occasionally flicking across the head. They worked together until he was fully hard again, glistening and ready.

Teju climbed onto the bed and got into position on all fours, looking back over her shoulder. Her back arched, ass raised, waiting.

Amey stepped up behind her. He gave her ass a firm smack, watching the flesh jiggle under his palm, then another harder one that left a faint red mark. The heat of her skin against his hand sent a sharp pulse of lust through him. He grabbed a thick handful of her hair, pulled her head back so her back arched deeper, and quickly rolled on a condom. Then he pushed into her in one deep, steady thrust.

The tight, hot grip of her body closed around him at once. He felt every inch of her walls stretch and yield, the wet heat surrounding his cock so completely that a rough breath left his lungs. The sensation was intense—thick, slick, and gripping—making his hips twitch with the urge to drive deeper.

Teju gasped as he filled her. The sudden stretch burned for a second, then melted into a deep, full pressure that made her thighs tremble. She could feel the exact shape of him inside her, thick and hard, pressing against places that made her toes curl against the sheets. Her fingers dug into the mattress. Every time he bottomed out, a tight coil of pleasure sparked low in her belly.

He started fucking her hard and steady. His hips slammed against her ass with each thrust, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. For him, every stroke was pure heat and friction—her body clutching him on the way in, dragging along his length on the way out. The pull on her hair kept her arched exactly where he wanted, and the sight of her taking him only made his cock throb harder inside the condom.

For Teju, each hard thrust forced the air from her lungs in short, broken sounds. The stretch never fully eased; it stayed intense, bordering on too much, yet every time he drove in she pushed her hips back to meet him. Pleasure and pressure mixed until her arms shook and her voice slipped out in low, helpless moans while the other women watched closely.

He came again, hard, buried deep inside her.

Shivani rolled the condom off him carefully. She knelt down at once, took his cock into her mouth, and sucked him clean and thorough, working him with slow, wet pulls until he began to harden again in her mouth, semi-hard and still sensitive.

Shivani kept him in her mouth, slow and thorough, her tongue working along the underside while her lips sealed tight around the head. The taste of latex and his cum mixed on her tongue; she didn’t pull away. Instead she sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, coaxing more blood back into him until he thickened fully again between her lips. Her spectacles had slipped lower on her nose. She looked up at him through them, eyes soft and a little glazed, still sucking as if she had all the time in the world.

The other women watched in silence. One of them stroked Teju’s back while she stayed on all fours, still breathing hard, her pussy glistening and slightly open from the hard fucking she had just taken. Immaculate sat against the headboard, white lehenga still bunched around her waist, thighs parted, Amey’s cum slowly leaking out of her. She watched Shivani with calm, dark eyes, one hand absently resting on her own breast.

Shivani lay back on the sheets. Amey moved over her at once. He didn’t bother with another condom this time. He pushed her thin black dress up to her waist, pulled her panties aside, and sank into her in one long, smooth thrust. She was tight—much tighter than Teju—and the sudden heat made his breath catch. Her small body tensed under him; a soft, high sound left her throat. Her legs came up around his hips, heels pressing into the backs of his thighs.

He fucked her slower than he had fucked Teju, but just as deep. Every stroke dragged against the tight walls of her pussy. Shivani’s hands clutched at his back, then his shoulders, her spectacles fogging completely. Her mouth stayed open against his neck, little broken sounds slipping out with every thrust.

Teju crawled closer and kissed her while Amey moved inside her. Immaculate watched from the side, one hand slowly circling her own clit, still wet with his earlier cum. The rest of the women stayed near the edge of the bed, quiet, eyes fixed on the three of them.

Amey’s rhythm grew harder. Shivani’s small breasts bounced with each impact. Her soft, shy expression had completely broken open into raw need. She came first—suddenly, with a sharp cry, her pussy clamping down around him in tight, rhythmic pulses that almost pulled his own orgasm out of him. He held on, fucking her through it until her legs shook and her voice turned into quiet, broken whimpers.

He was clearly exhausted. His cock had started to soften, the edge of the night finally catching up to him. A fresh group of girls still pulled him back anyway, hands and mouths refusing to let him rest. He managed a few more weak thrusts, then his legs gave out. He slipped down onto the floor, back against the side of the bed, and the moment his eyes closed he was gone—asleep almost instantly.

The drunken girls laughed and tugged at him, trying to wake him. Someone slapped his cheek lightly. Another girl straddled his lap and ground against his soft cock. They kept pulling and calling his name until his eyes finally opened again—red, unfocused, and completely drained. He looked devastated, body used up, mind barely present.

Present day — the bathroom

Immaculate’s fingers drifted between her legs again, tracing the tender places he had left. The faint bruises still ached under her touch. The phone screen stayed dark now, the blackmail threat still waiting on the marble ledge.

She couldn’t stay in the water any longer. She stood, water streaming down her naked body, and sat on the cold edge of the bathtub. Her hands came up to her knees. She folded forward, pressing her face against them, and began to cry—quiet, shaking sobs that made her shoulders tremble. Tears ran down her bare thighs and mixed with the bathwater still dripping from her skin.

The white lehenga hung nearby, waiting. In a few hours she will to put it on and walk toward the man who believed she was still untouched.