Day 1: On Our Wedding Night in Hyderabad, I Collared My Mute Bride and Made Her My Permanent Slave – and She Has Never Been More Complete

The heavy teak door shut behind us with a final, thunderous thud. I turned the lock slowly, deliberately, letting the click echo through the marble hallway like the closing of a cage.

She stood there trembling in her wedding lehenga, the red silk clinging to her sweat-damp skin after the long Hyderabad night. The heavy gold jhumkas swayed with every shallow breath. The nath chain quivered against her cheek. Her kohl-lined eyes were already fixed on the floor, hands clasped in front of her, mehendi-stained fingers twisting nervously.

I didn’t speak for a long time. I just looked at her — my beautiful, mute, virgin bride who had just promised herself to me in front of five hundred people who had no idea what she truly was.

Mine.

I stepped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off my body. My fingers gripped her delicate jaw and forced her face up. Her lips parted on a silent gasp. Tears were already gathering in those dark eyes.

“Strip, slave. Show your husband what he owns now.”

Her hands shook violently as she pulled out the first pin. The dupatta slid off her head like liquid surrender, pooling on the floor. Then the heavy lehenga — she had to wiggle her hips to make it fall, and when it did, her bare cunt came into view, already swollen and glistening, the lips puffy from hours of secret arousal under her wedding clothes. I had made her shave it completely smooth two nights ago. I had made her spread her legs on the bathroom counter while I inspected every fold with my fingers until she was crying from frustration because I wouldn’t let her come.

The choli was last. She unhooked it slowly, knowing I was savoring every second. When her heavy breasts spilled free, the cool air made her dark nipples harden instantly. The intricate mehendi curled around them like possessive vines — tomorrow those designs would be smeared with my cum.

I walked a slow circle around her naked body. Her skin still smelled of jasmine, sandalwood, and the faint rosewater her mother had dabbed behind her ears. Now it was overpowered by the thick scent of her dripping cunt. I stopped behind her, gathered her waist-length black hair in my fist, and yanked her head back so hard her throat was completely exposed.

From my pocket I took the collar I had custom-made months ago.

Thick black leather. Soft sheepskin lining. Heavy steel O-ring. Silver plate engraved on both sides:

తన యజమాని ఆస్తి — PROPERTY OF ARJUN — MUTE SLAVE WIFE

I wrapped it around her slender throat and buckled it tight — tight enough that she would feel it every single time she swallowed for the rest of her life. The lock snapped shut with a sound that made her entire body jolt.

She dropped to her knees immediately, forehead touching the cold marble, ass high in the air, thighs spread just enough to show me how wet she was.

Perfect.

I clipped the thick chain leash to her collar and gave it a sharp tug. “Crawl.”

She crawled. Every movement made her wedding jewelry sing — the sound of her new reality. The heavy gold waist-chain dragged between her ass cheeks. The dozen bangles on each wrist clinked like slave bells. The anklets with their tiny ghungroos tinkled with every knee forward. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath her, nipples brushing the floor.

I led her slowly through the hallway, letting her feel the humiliation of crawling naked in the house where she would now serve me forever.

In the bedroom the lights were low, red silk sheets already turned down. I made her kneel in the center while I undressed. Slowly. I wanted her to watch every inch of the man who now owned her. When my cock finally sprang free — thick, veined, angry red, already leaking — her eyes widened and her tongue came out to wet her lips involuntarily.

I stepped close. Grabbed her hair. Forced her face against my balls first.

“Lick.”

She obeyed instantly, tongue lapping at my heavy sack, sucking one ball into her mouth, then the other, moaning silently around them. I let her worship for long minutes before I dragged her mouth up to the head of my cock.

“Open that throat. Tonight you learn to take every inch without making a single sound — just like the mute slave you were born to be.”

I fed her my cock slowly at first, letting her feel it stretch her jaw, push against the back of her tongue, slide into her throat. When she started to gag I held her there, nose buried in my pubes, until her face turned red and tears streamed down to drip off her chin onto her bare tits. Only then did I start truly fucking her face — brutal, punishing strokes that made drool pour from her lips in thick strings, made her mascara run in black rivers over the mehendi on her cheeks.

I used her throat until my balls were tight and aching. Then I pulled out and slapped my slick cock across her face — left cheek, right cheek, forehead — marking her with spit and pre-cum.

“Bed. Face down. Ass up.”

She scrambled to obey. I bound her wrists to the headboard with red silk rope — tight enough to bite. Spread her ankles to the corners until her legs were shaking from the strain. Her cunt was obscene — lips swollen and parted, clit peeking out, juices running down her thighs in steady streams. The medium plug I’d made her wear all day under her lehenga glistened between her red spanked cheeks (I’d spanked her in the car on the way home, skirt flipped up, while the driver pretended not to watch in the rearview mirror).

I pulled the plug out slowly, watching her asshole gape and clench on nothing. She whimpered — a tiny soundless exhale that made my cock throb.

Then I spanked her. Not playful. Brutal. Palm flat, full force, alternating cheeks until her ass was dark angry red and she was frantically grinding her cunt against the air, tears soaking the sheets. Only when she was sobbing silently did I spread her cheeks wide and spit directly on her twitching hole.

Three fingers straight into her ass without warning. She arched so hard I thought she’d break the ropes. I twisted and scissored mercilessly while my other hand found her clit and pinched — hard.

“You’re going to come just from having your ass violated on your wedding night, aren’t you, slave?”

She came instantly — whole body seizing, cunt squirting in thick pulses onto the sheets while her asshole clenched around my fingers like it was trying to keep them forever.

I didn’t give her time to recover. I slicked my cock with her juices and lined up with her virgin asshole.

“Relax that tight little shithole. Your husband is going to split you open now.”

I pushed in — slow, relentless — watching her ring stretch impossibly wide around my thickness until I was buried to the hilt in her scalding hot ass. She was shaking uncontrollably, mouth open in that perfect silent scream only she can make.

I gave her ten seconds. Then I started fucking her ass like I hated her.

Long, brutal strokes that made her whole body jolt forward with every thrust. The bed frame slammed against the wall. Her bangles rattled like crazy. Her tits bounced painfully. I reached around and attacked her clit again — rubbing, slapping, pinching — until she came a second time, harder, squirting so violently it splashed my thighs.

I still didn’t stop.

I reamed that ass until it was soft and gaping and ruined. Until she was limp and boneless and utterly broken. Only then did I pull out, flip her over, straddle her chest, and shove my filthy cock straight down her throat.

“Clean it. Taste your ass on your husband’s cock.”

She sucked desperately, tongue swirling, throat working around me until I exploded — thick, endless ropes of cum pumping straight into her stomach while she swallowed greedily, tears streaming, wedding jewelry clinking with every brutal thrust of my hips.

I stayed buried in her throat until I was completely spent.

Then I pulled out, wiped my cock on her tear-streaked face, and finally uncuffed her wrists — only to lock them to her collar with short chain so her hands are trapped uselessly against her chest in permanent prayer position.

I pulled her sweat-drenched body against mine. Felt her racing heartbeat. Felt the collar pressing into her throat with every labored breath.

“This is your life now,” I whispered against her temple. “Every morning you wake with my cock in one of your holes — mouth, cunt, or ass — your choice which one gets used first. You’ll cook naked except for apron, collar, and whatever plug I choose. You’ll crawl when we’re alone. You’ll greet me at the door on your knees, mouth open, ready. When your family visits you’ll wear modest clothes and smile sweetly while my cum leaks slowly out of whichever hole I filled before they arrived. You will never speak. You don’t need to. Your dripping cunt, your shaking thighs, the tears in your eyes when you’re desperate to come — they all scream louder than any voice ever could.”

She melted against me completely, body going soft and submissive in a way that told me everything.

She has never been more whole.

Tomorrow the real training begins.

And my mute slave wife is already begging for it with every trembling breath.