by Jet, M
Shekhar's mother, Padma became consumed with me and much of my day was spent planning the approaching lavish wedding. I struggled through each endless planning session with her only to rush to the bathroom to become violently ill afterward. My life had become a nightmare. I dreaded considering my future as Mrs. Kulkarni, yet I couldn't fathom life without Kis. And to somehow escape Shekhar would doubtlessly also mean losing her.
Part 5
Six months raced by and brought me careening into the eve of my wedding. Padma had every moment of my day planned for primping and preparing. She told me she hoped I'd had my fill of Shekhar the previous night as I wouldn't be seeing him again until I was walking down the aisle to him.
Oh how I bit my tongue to refrain from telling just how much I had in fact had my fill of the bastard.
I moved through the day in a blur. I was far beyond tears by the time that day rolled around. My mind lived in the place that was just before madness. I was pliant and willing to be led around by Padma from one function to the next. I lay nude on a table in the salon as workers covered my body in the paste made of turmeric and honey. After I was left to soak in that, I was then washed in a bath or fragrant rose water. Next they washed, waxed, and brushed every inch of my hair, preparing and cleaning it to be elaborately styled in the morning. Then numerous artists worked to cover my legs, feet, arms, and hands in gorgeous henna art. It was late that night when I was finally allowed to go to sleep for a few short hours.
Padma had me up before the sun the morning of my wedding. I followed her like a puppy through another lengthy session of beautifying until finally at noon, I was fully prepared to meet my soon to be husband for our wedding ceremony. I stood before the mirror and gasped at my own reflection.
My large black eyes never looked more alluring with the rich and artful smoky makeup. Plump lips were colored crimson and seemed to invite a kiss. My slim body shimmered in the silky white saree that was covered with thousands of delicate, glinting crystals. It swept the floor and only when I took a step were my beautifully decorated bare feet visible. My hair was styled in a large bun comprised of a thousand perfect ringlets at the nape of my long neck. A jewel encrusted, golden shringar perched delicately atop my head, tracing my hairline, and scooping to the middle of my forehead in a cluster of diamonds. A heavy gold and diamond collar graced my slender neck and matching diamond earring dripped from my ear lobes. Elaborate haathpools of more gold and diamonds adorned my wrists and fingers. As a finishing touch, Padma inserted a nath, or nose ring into my nose. The effect was complete. I was the vision of the perfect bride.
And inside I was dying.
Padma put her hands on my shoulders as she stared at me in the mirror.
"My darling, Gita," Padma said. "I knew as soon as I first saw you that you would be the one my son would choose. And you will be so perfect. This harem has never in all my years known a woman who could come close to your beauty. And you are kind, intelligent and obedient. You will be the perfect wife, and the perfect mother to my grandchildren," she said happily, wrapping me in a gently hug so as not to mess my carefully prepared perfection.
"Thank you, Padma," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.
***
The wedding was in the house of Shekhar Kulkarni, and was a small affair with only three hundred in attendance. All the women of the harem were there. They all stared at me with naked hatred. Except for my beloved Kis. She dared to watch me with haunted eyes. It was a small comfort to have her near on that, the day of my demise, but I knew her heart was shattering. For she knew what I knew. Though marrying Shekhar kept me close to Kis, there wasn't a doubt that I was marrying a madman.
The wedding transpired in a complete blur of which I cannot recall even now. Afterwards the party goers made merry, and Shekhar kept me at his side constantly. My bridal gown was too tight, and my stomach too distraught for me to consider eating, and my head grew light with only the first few sips of champagne. Before long I was drunk, for the first time in my life.
At midnight, Shekhar whispered in my ear. "Come my love, it looks as though I must take you to bed if I am to have you tonight; you have had far too much to drink."
I laughed the first happy sound to escape me that day. Little did he know the drink had been my coping mechanism for knowing I would have to join him in his bed chambers as his wife that night. I felt less frightened, and better prepared to simply take whatever was coming to me on my wedding night.
Shekhar took my hand and led me quietly away from the party that was still in full swing. We walked into the bedroom and I fell unceremoniously onto the bed. Shekhar smiled coolly at me as he walked up to the bed table approaching the telephone. "Do not go to sleep, I have to make a call," Shekhar said calmly with a strange tone underneath the calm.
I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. I was vaguely aware of him barking into the phone that he was ready and to send her in. My head snapped up and I gaped at him, but I did not say a word. He turned from me and quickly disrobed, wasting no time. Then he turned and strode back to where I sat on the bed.
Shekhar began gently removing my wedding jewelry and taking it to the bedside table, piece by piece. Then he pulled me up into a standing position and spun me around so he could begin unbuttoning my wedding saree. I watched with a pang of sadness as my beautiful gown fell in a pile on the floor beside the bed. Shekhar stood behind me and I could feel his erection in my back as he reached around to massage my breasts roughly. Heat began to tingle inside me. I hated myself and fought my arousal, but I couldn't help it as his hands moved over my body. The door opened and Manu walked in. In my drunken state, I didn't even bother covering myself but when she stepped out from behind Manu, my mouth fell open.
There stood Kishori.
"SHEKHAR!" I exclaimed. I noticed a slightly alarmed expression on Manu's face at the sound of my distress. But Shekhar bellowed at Manu to leave and so he hurried out.
"Why is she here? Why, Shekhar? It is our wedding night!"
I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear to go through the nightmare with Kis again. Not on this, of all days.
Shekhar's dark eyes narrowed and clouded with anger. "Do not question me, wife. This night, this is what I want," he growled. He put a hand on my shoulder and he shoved me to the ground. "Suck."
I glanced at Kis and the tears began to flow. But I knew I had no choice, so I took his throbbing cock into my mouth.
"Ahhh," he whispered. "Good girl," he praised. I whimpered.
"Stop."
I pulled away from him and my attention shot to Kishori. She stood still in the spot Manu had left her, and her face glowed with her rage. Shekhar glowered down at me and then over to her. "What the fuck did you say?" he whispered.
Brazenly, Kis began to stride toward him. "I said stop, you bastard. She's crying. She doesn't want this. Now STOP."
Shekhar was across the room so fast I scarcely saw him. Before I had time to complete a thought, his big hands were around Kis' slender throat. "I will KILL YOU!" he raged.
An animal like scream rang out in the room.
It wasn't until much later when recalling the moment in nightmares that I realized the scream was me.
I threw myself on Shekhar's back, flailing, scratching, and yanking more viciously than I'd ever have imagined of myself. Shekhar's hands fell from Kis' throat and she fell like a rag doll to the throat gasping and choking for breath. Shekhar stumbled backwards screaming himself and he bucked me off. I clambered to the floor, falling so hard I felt all my bones should've broken.
"HOW DARE YOU!" Shekhar roared. His first kick landed squarely in my abdomen and sent me reeling backwards several more feet. He reached down and jerked me up by my neck, only to punch me in the face and send me sprawling again. I wept and struggled to maintain consciousness knowing that if his rage was focused on me, then Kis could escape.
But that didn't happen.
Instead, his terrorizing rage came to a sudden end a
s blood and brain matter exploded from his face and he fell limply on top of me. My mind spun, I didn't comprehend at all what had happened. But then, Shekhar's lifeless body was rolled off me, and silhouetted by the bright light above, I saw Manu standing there with a gun hanging loosely at his side. Kis scurried to my side and wrapped me in her arms.
"I'm sorry," Manu said, staring down at his now deceased employer. He turned haunted eyes to meet mine. "I'm sorry, Gita. That I ever let him hurt you. Now, you are free… I hope you can forgive me.
Epilogue
Despite the fact that I was the widow of an important politician, and powerful business man in Assam, I had no authority to help Manu.
But, he accepted his fate willingly. He never demonstrated regret, and during his trial, he made known what a true monster he'd given over his life to like so many others. He gladly accepted a death sentence if it meant freeing the women of the Kulkarni harem.
However, in that respect, I did have some power to help. Despite the raving of my mother in law, I gave each of the workers and the harem girls $50,000 and sent them packing. I knew many of them would choose to find a way right back into this life, and I prayed for their souls. Others were grateful to me, their savior. More and more stories came to light of violence and darkness behind closed doors of the harem, and those who were abused revered me for setting them free.
Kis and I settled up affairs at the Kulkarni estate and made plans for ourselves. Neither of us had any desire to return to our families, nor after what we'd been through, Kis no longer harbored any illusions about harem life.
Manu was executed on a cool autumn day with storms blustering on the nearby horizon. By the time his day came, nothing remained of the harem and even Padma was long gone. Nobody attended his execution but Kis and I and a spattering of reporters.
We shed our tears for him, and we were glad that he died peacefully with a smile on his face. We took that with us as we boarded a plane right after saying goodbye to the man who'd given his life for us.
Then we left it all behind as the plane carried us away, to our new world, and our new life; together.
The End
Enjoy this excerpt from the internationally bestselling erotic short from M Jet, High On Her:
"Hello, ah, hi, Mr. Kirk? Yes, this is Mr. Hines."
Yes, cocksucker, I know who you are. You're my boss, you gave me the phone I'm answering, and you programmed "Mr. Hines" into it, you colossal dickhead, thought James Kirk.
"Sure, Mr. Hines, what can I do for you?" replied James in a tone full of sunshine.
"Well, ah, Mr. Kirk, if you could please ah, come on in out of the field and buzz back into the office for a meeting?"
I've worked for you for fine years, fuckface, call me James, James thought.
"Sure, Mr. Hines, not a problem! Is there something the matter?" James inquired pleasantly.
"Well, ah, the thing is, Mr. Kirk, the head honcho's comin' in, and what we need to do is, ah, we need to have a pow wow about your sales, is all. And if you could, ah, on the way back, just go ahead and stop and give the company Nissan a good once over would you? Thank you."
James felt the breath momentarily rush out of him. These mother fuckers are gonna shit can my ass, James thought, his blood pressure escalating. He inserted two fingers beneath his neck tie and loosened it, suddenly feeling strangled.
"Oh, OK. Sure, sir, be there soon," James Kirk said with significantly less sunshine.
James carefully maneuvered the company Nissan into a car wash with trembling hands on 10 and 2. What am I gonna do if these shit lips' fire me, James fumed internally. I've got the studio apartment to pay for, and the HHR, the student loans…
And FUUUUCK! What about my monthly donation to St. Judes?
What kind of sleazy dick hole fires a guy who is a MONTHLY SUPPORTER of St. Judes?
With wind completely absent from his sails, James painstakingly cleaned out the Jones, Jacobs, and Jackson Insurance Sales and Brokerage Firm's Nissan. He discarded several empty Starbucks cups, careful to ensure they were weighed into the garbage by other heavier garbage so they wouldn't blow out.
James Kirk prided himself on being environmentally considerate.
Other than James Kirk and the company Nissan, the middle of Monday car wash was empty. There were six bays for cars to drive in and wash or vacuum and detail. The June sun was high in a brilliant blue cloudless sky and a gentle breeze tossed the trees that surrounded the lot. Any other person would've felt footloose and fancy free on a day like that, but James Kirk felt like shit. Sweat accumulated uncomfortably around his starched collar. He muttered angrily under his breath as he cleaned the car.
Find High on Her HERE.
Find more from M Jet in the genres of suspense and horror. Get sneak previews here:
Mary Contrary (The Nursery Rhyme Chronicles Volume 1)
Six For Gold (The Nursery Rhyme Chronicles Volume 2)
Death Wind
I Killed Collette
The Plain Black Door
M Jet is an internationally bestselling author, wife, mom, artist, fortune teller, and witch.
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