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I am from India and work for a man who is a self-professed don in the area. To be clear, I deal with his legal work. While I do not advocate his methods, I must say he is not unimpressive in the way he runs company. I got married recently. A hush-hush affair, and to make up for the lack of celebrations, I organized a grand feast that promised to be an unforgettable evening.

My wife is not only stunningly gorgeous but also possesses an ethereal quality. She embodies grace and purity, like a delicate morning dew drop. This is what captivated me about her, along with her innocence and lack of exposure to the darkness in the world.

Little did I know that by inviting my boss to our dinner, I unintentionally welcomed a mischievous devil into our midst. Intriguingly, despite his notorious reputation for being captivated by women, he all the time treated me like a brother. His affectionate remarks made me believe he would never cross any boundaries of respect, especially towards my wife. Unfortunately, his many conquests of women were the stuff of legend, and he would openly boast about the explicit details of their intimate encounters, describing their every touch, taste, and moan.

On the evening in question, my wife, dressed in a traditional Indian kurti, complemented with a shawl modestly covering her bosom, gave an air of elegance and grace. Initially, everything seemed fine. He maintained a facade of gentlemanly decorum. However, when he produced a bottle of scotch, the atmosphere began to take on a more provocative and heated energy.

I could see my boss’s eyes darting towards my wife as she gracefully moved around the kitchen, overseeing the preparations with our maid. It was as if he mentally undressed her with his gaze, his eyes lingering on her bosom, teasingly removing her shawl and unbuttoning her kurti to savor her nakedness. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down my spine, but I attempted to divert his attention back to more appropriate topics such as our company and market analysis. Unfortunately, his fixation only grew stronger, leaving me powerless to intervene for the rest of the night.

As we sat down to enjoy our meal, he audaciously asked my wife about her perfume, seemingly out of the blue. She timidly responded, mentioning a fruity scent. In a bold move, he leaned closer, attempting to catch a whiff, causing my wife to recoil in shock. Although he laughed it off, I convinced myself that it was a harmless, albeit inappropriate, act, trying to brush away the unease. However, his next vulgar opinion directed towards me shattered any remaining illusions. He dared to ask if my wife smelled the same way down there when she opened her legs. I felt my face pale, unable to summon the courage to defend her as my wife stared at me, her eyes filled with a mixed cocktail of disbelief, anger, and disappointment. She expected me to unleash my fury upon him, but my fear of his power held me captive, forcing me to keep silent.

Unfazed, my boss locked eyes with my wife and declared her a true catch. He envied me for having such a remarkable woman by my side, one of rare beauty and allure. Witnessing my wife’s complexion turning as pale as the moon, I silently observed her hidden emotions: rage, sadness, pity, disgust. Each feeling directed not at him, but at me. She understood that I had asked her to be courteous with this man, a powerful overlord of the city. Yet, she now saw that her own husband lacked the courage to protect her.

The vile man continued to drown himself in drink, his laughter filling the room as he shamelessly admired my wife’s beauty. He described her enticing scent and mesmerizing physique in explicit detail, demeaning her to a mere object of desire. While his words belittled and humiliated me, they also ignited a hidden desire within me that I had never acknowledged before. A strange mixture of shame and arousal coursed through my veins as this stranger applauded and sexualized my wife in methods I had never dared to.

My body stirred when he asked if she danced, pointing at the pictures on the wall showcasing her in traditional Bharatnatyam and Kathak dance attire. Confirming her talent, she replied with a hesitant yes. What followed was a opinion from him about her impressive flexibility, a remark that could only be seen as an invitation to engage in carnal pleasure. In that moment of forbidden excitement, I shamefully admit that I craved the unimaginable—to ravish my wife in front of him, for him to witness her undressed and consumed by an illicit passion on the very table we dined upon.

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