The Rajmata pressed closer to the thin curtain, her breath shallow, eyes fixed on the pair before her. Padmini lay on the low bed, her simple white garments still in place as instructed, the cloth of her lower wrap already loosened at the waist by trembling fingers. Veer Singh stood over her, his own lower cloth drawn aside just enough to free the thick length of his cock. It stood rigid, heavier and fuller than the Rajmata had expected from the young soldier she had watched grow from boy to man. The head was dark and already glistening, the shaft veined and thick enough that the Maharani’s earlier gasp had been no exaggeration. A heavy, meaty column of flesh, thicker than a woman’s wrist at the base, the skin stretched tight over rope like veins, the flared head already weeping a clear bead of precum that slid slowly down the underside.

“No lingering,” the Rajmata murmured under her breath, the words a command meant only for herself. “In. Seed. Out.”