The train shuddered to a halt, and I stumbled onto the dusty platform still reeling from the night-long gangbang. My body was a map of bruises and dried cum hidden under a cheap cotton saree that Papa had thrown over me. The village air was thick with the smell of smoke, marigolds, and manure. A small group of men from the wedding party was already waiting, their eyes crawling over my curves. Ramesh uncle clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder and barked to the group, "Yeh hai tumhari kothi ki nayee raand. Rail se utari hai, poori raat chud chud ke. Ab shaadi mein iski asli seva hogi." [This is the new whore of the kothi. She has descended from the train, fucked all night. Now her real service will be at the wedding.]
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