The Sharma family had traveled to a remote village in Maharashtra for a distant cousin's lavish wedding. The sprawling ancestral haveli buzzed with relatives, gold-embroidered lehengas, blaring dhol music, and the thick aroma of mutton biryani and incense. Arjun, ever the dutiful son, spent his days helping with arrangements and drinking with uncles late into the night. Priya, now fully entangled in her secret life with Rajesh, wore her heaviest silk sarees during the day—modest, elegant—but underneath, she hid the evidence of her depravity: nipple clamps chained together, a thick vibrating egg lodged deep in her cunt, and a large stainless-steel butt plug stretching her asshole, remote-controlled by Rajesh's phone.

Rajesh had barely spoken to her publicly, maintaining the facade of the strict, traditional father-in-law. But every time their eyes met across the crowded courtyard, his gaze burned with promise. On the third night of celebrations, after the baraat returned and most guests collapsed from exhaustion and liquor, Rajesh cornered Priya near the outer veranda.