Rani Begum

Rani wears a burqa to carry out a masterplan.

It was Sunday and I was reading my morning newspaper while sipping good hot tea made by Rani. Today rani was dressed in a salwar kameez , very weird for her to dress because this two piece long shirt covering her knees and also covering her back with an airy pyjama and a dupatta to cover her bosoms was very " muslim ". All the time she came to my house she would drape herself in traditional saree and a blouse showing off her navel and the curves of her hips while her boobs would just be existing in enormousity. Her salwar kameez was black with small shiny silver beads all over. She was busy sweeping the floor. While sipping tea , I asked , "Rani have you become muslim what are you wearing ?" , to which Rani looked puzzled which showed clearly she never thought of it. " no saab this was given by a woman where I worked before , she was a muslim" she replied. I laughed and called her over. She came slowly towards me maintaining eye contact. Kneel , I said. Her knees touched the ground. I took her dupatta from her shoulders and wrapped around her head. Damn , she actually looked like a real muslim woman. I laughed looking at her and she was laughing too. "Rani you look Rani Begum" I laughed. Rani quickly went to look at herself in the mirror giggling , came back " yes saab i look like a muslim ". I told her keep it this way the whole day. And she began sweeping floor while I sipped my tea.

After finishing my tea and reading my morning newspaper the thought of Pari came to my mind , how vivacious and thick that woman was and more importantly when she would return back my money. The thought of her big thick thighs and how she felt against my body filled me with sexual electricity , RING RING! , my phone rang. I looked at my phone to find my best friend calling me. His name was sameer ( name changed ). Sameer was my childhood friend and we lived through high and lows in our lives. His family was a muslim family consisting of his parents, three sisters and his stepmother. He was born of his first mother and she couldnt conceive more and his father married another woman through which had three daughters.
I answered ,"What's up motherfucker"? In excitement. To which sameer replied " nothing much , where are you ? " in a depressing way.

It was about an hour later when he showed up at my place, dressed in a kurta pyjama. He looked bigger than me—broad, tall, with long hair and a beard that made him look even darker and heavier. His eyes still had that old eyeliner he always wore, but his face looked drained, almost broken.
Rani came out to greet him.
“Sameer saab, long time no see. How are you? Should I bring you some water?”
He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were fixed on me.
“Let’s talk outside,” he said flatly, pointing toward the door.
I followed him out. Rani disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving behind a strange smell, like a damp burnt incense on a thin slice of citrus.
Once we were outside, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. The way he exhaled, it sounded more like a sigh than smoke.
“Bro,” he said quietly, “I’m in trouble.”
I just stood there, watching. I’d never seen him this shaken before.
“You know my sister, right?” he asked.
“Which one?”
“The eldest,” he replied.
He paused, then spoke again. “She likes a boy. My stepmom also wants her to marry him.”
“That’s good, man. Finally!” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
He shot me a sharp look. “No. You don’t get it. The guy’s bad news.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Bad? What do you mean , does he treat her badly?”
Sameer’s jaw tightened. “Yes. I think he’s been abusive.”
That hit me. My smile dropped. He went on, voice harder now.
“Don’t ask me what we’re going to do. We’re gonna go talk sense into him. He hurt my sister.”
By then, I was angry too. Sameer wasn’t just my friend—he was my brother. If someone laid a hand on his sister, I wasn’t about to sit back.
I let him explain his plan. He called it a master plan, though it sounded half-mad. And to my surprise, it even involved Rani.

It was 1 a.m., and the sky was suffocatingly dark. No moon, no stars. The streetlights along the narrow lane flickered like dying candles, casting broken shadows on the cracked walls of old houses. At the very end of that lane stood a mansion , silent, massive, and menacing. It belonged to Aman, the abuser.
Rani, hidden under her burqa ( a black veil with robe used by muslim women to cover themselves ) , walked up and knocked on the heavy iron gate. The sound echoed too loudly in the night. A guard appeared from a small room adjacent to the gate, suspicious eyes scanning her dark curvy pelvis and her nipples sticking out of that cheap burqa we managed to buy off from a shop that evening. There was a short exchange, a phone call, some muttered words. Then the gate creaked open, and she was let inside.
Her task was simple: lure Aman out by telling him Nasreen (Sameer’s sister) was waiting to meet him outside. Once Aman stepped out of his gate and came towards the car, we would confront him. The plan was to rough him up, scare him, and end this marriage before it began. We were ready for violence.
But forty-five minutes slipped by. Nothing. No sign of Rani.
The phone we had given her was switched off. An hour turned into ninety minutes. Now it was 2:30 a.m. The car felt smaller, hotter, and the silence between us heavier. My nerves were eating me alive.
Sameer snapped first. He slammed his hand on the dashboard.
“Your maid fucked up! She was supposed to bring Aman out. It’s been two hours! No Rani, no signal-- nothing!”
I clenched my jaw, my own unease bubbling up. “Sameer, listen. Worst case scenario. If she’s betrayed us, Aman already knows we’re here. He won’t let us walk away alive.”
His eyes darted toward me. After a tense pause, he nodded. We started the car and rolled away, leaving the mansion shrinking into the darkness behind us.
But the drive home wasn’t quiet. Sameer kept muttering under his breath, cursing the situation, worried what his sister would think if Aman told her everything. I, meanwhile, was somewhere else entirely.
What happened to Rani?
Was she caught? Was she hurt? Why was I even worried? She was just a maid. But still—she had walked into that mansion alone. In the dead of night. With men like Aman inside. My imagination spiraled. If this had been the 18th century, she would’ve been whored out by the landlord or worse given to the dogs or horses She’d be safe. She had to be.
The thought wouldn’t leave me.
When we finally pulled up at my house, Sameer stormed in, still ranting. I shut the gate, followed him inside, and locked the front door behind me.
“Man, if Aman tells my sister about this..” Sameer was saying as he entered the drawing room.
Then he stopped.
Dead still. His body stiffened. His mouth half open, eyes wide with something between shock and horror.
I frowned. “What?”
I stepped past him, following his frozen gaze toward the hall.
And then I saw.
Through the doorway, sitting casually on the bed, were four grown men. With them was a slender, fair-skinned man, almost smiling.
My heart kicked against my ribs. How the fuck did they get in? The front door was locked. The windows were intact. The kitchen? No, I’d locked that too. Or… had I? My heart was pounding and skipping beats almost a vasovagal syncope.
Then I saw them.
Three women. Lying face down on the floor, wrists tied behind their backs. Shivers ran through my spine.
One of them was in a burqa.
Rani.
But the other two?
I froze where I stood, blood draining from my face.

" Welcome welcome" , as the room air grew chiller. "Welcome you little bitches". I looked around , my heart still beating heavy. Rani was wriggling with pain , her hands were tied by a cheap rope. I then glanced on the other two woman lying on the floor, the woman close to the was still , remained half hidden in her satin gown. Black fabric, embroidered in pale flowers, caught the dim light like ripples of moonlight over dark water. She didn’t need to move her stillness itself was commanding. Her long brownish black braid traced the line of her back, accentuating the natural weight of her form. Even the way her hands rested, pale against the fabric, carried an elegance that felt intimate, as if she were carved into the room itself. She was a mature beauty, the kind that unsettled you not by what she revealed, but by what she concealed. Her hips pressed against the black satin, and the fabric clung to the swell of her enormous rounds, the shadows tracing the rounded curves beneath. Her ankles and feet were pale, almost glowing in the light that fell across them. She was very fair as I could tell by her palms and fingers they were crimson bright red and the rope outlining her wrists turned the area to yellow hue due to its tightness , her pink nails turned bright red.

Well, well, Sameer. Looks like you finally crossed the line,” Aman said. “You might be wondering what’s going on here, right?” His laugh rang out—sharp, echoing, and wrong in a way that made the air vibrate.
“I’ll kill you, monster! Leave my sister—or I swear I’ll kill you!” Sameer yelled.

" Hahahahaha Aman laughed again ".
I was dumbstruk , I looked behind me to look at the woman beside Rani ,
The folds of her deep pink kurta clung and flowed in turns, alternately outlining and disguising her frame. The dark red salwar and the faintly orange dupatta cast her in warm tones, but her presence was anything but gentle. She lifted her head and what the fuck,
Her eyes were arresting green irises rimmed by weak steel-grey limbal ring, their depth magnified by her tears. A high nasal bridge, lips naturally tinged with carmine, and a face structured with unsettling precision—there was an almost Aryan symmetry to her beauty, something both classical and dangerous.
From my angle, her body was a paradox: slender, yet carrying a fullness in the hips and chest that shadows seemed eager to outline. The floor was pressing against her causing her magnificent breasts to protrude out from her sides. The fabric moved with her breathing, hinting at shapes and silences more powerful than what the eye could claim. She was not simply attractive; she was magnetic. Every curve, every shadow, every glance pulled me deeper into her orbit. I was mesmerized by this young woman who was Sameer’s sister. I have never seen any woman like this ever before , probabaly Kareena Kapoor but this beauty was out of bounds for normal heirarchy of people. No wonder why Aman wanted to marry her I thought.
That would make the woman beside her Sameer’s ...... "Aunty" !? I yelled. I knew Sameer’s mom. She used to give me money when I was a kid. I never saw her without a viel or hijab. I never even knew how she looked.

“Hahahaha, look at you. You’ll kill me? Pathetic. Leave your sister? what about your mother ?” Aman sneered.
Sameer snapped. He lunged toward Aman, but before he could close the gap, one of Aman’s men stepped in, massive, easily six feet, muscles piled unnaturally thick. Steroids, I thought. No way anyone built that body naturally.
The brute man slammed Sameer against the wall, drywall cracking under the force. Sameer fought back, shoving into the man with everything he had, the man shoving back just as hard. They grappled chest-to-chest, weight grinding against weight, each trying to drive the other backward. For a heartbeat it was raw power against raw defiance. Sameer was no joke, he was a muscular man himself.
Then the giant shifted. A penetrating step, a double leg maybe ? dropping his level low. Sameer’s eyes flicked down, instinctively tracking. In that split-second, the man snapped upward an overhand right exploding from nowhere.
The punch detonated against Sameer’s chin. His head whipped back. Before I could even blink, he crumpled to the ground, limbs loose, a total knockout.
Two muffled screams split the room behind me. My stomach clenched and I rushed to Sameer’s side, supporting his limp neck and unconscious body.

Aman came up to me and said, “Your maid’s real trustworthy. She even showed me your house.” Then he laughed.
I couldn’t believe it. Rani had betrayed me. But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised , she’d been caught, thats natural. Maybe she was threatened. All those thoughts filled my head while , Aman sat on the bed for a moment, grinning to himself. Then he suddenly stood up on the bed, his boots dirtying the sheets, and looked straight at the ceiling. He seemed high and a madman.
“There’s going to be an orgy today,” he announced.
" An orgy of RAPE "
He pointed at Rani and then at me. His tone was off, unstable. “I should repay them,” he muttered. “But I’m a good man. I won’t kill them. Do you agree?” He glanced at his four men.
They all cheered, filling the room with noise.
Then Aman turned to Rani. “Her first,” he said.
Bring her here. A man went towards Rani who was still in her burqa, wrapped his hands around her waist and deadlifted her from the ground as if nothing. And pushed her front. Her hands still tied behind. Aman smiling said , "I always wanted to fuck a muslim woman. However you're a maid. I wouldn't dare touch you." Looking at his underlings he gave the command. " she's yours , no limits , do whatever you want , just dont kill her. " before I could even fathom what the fuck was happening, 2 guys jumped on Rani , tearing away her black burqa veil and her mouth gag out of her face. Her beautiful face was now revealed to the room. Rani crying pleading " No " but of no avail, These were vile men pursuing a lust so carnal so far greater than satan himself. Her hijab still on her head a man stepped behind her and grabbed her tits while humping and thrusting his dick on her soft buttocks erratically. He was vigorously squashing her tits and Rani's breasts were buldging through the gaps of his thick fingers. A man went in for the front of Rani, forcing in his way in to have taste of those poor dirty brown muslim lips or that's what they thought. His hands were travelling all around her body holding and twisting whatever flesh they might encounter. Rani was in tremendous pain trying to resist but she just couldn't, the sheer pressure of these 225 pounders was so much , she was barely able to breath. The man behind was clearly pressing her tits so much that she wasn't able inspire properly and was arching to face her chest to the cieling to get air but too bad. The more she did the more the man kneaded and lifted her outlining the coordinates of her nipples pinching them and rani was literally in the air in between these two goons. Her hijab below her chin was dripping wet with her own and this man's saliva who was force kissing her. I was getting aroused but at the same time a lot of adrenaline filled in me. I had no idea what would happen next. These men could easily kill me. Sameer was unconscious. Aman's eyes were locked on the hourglass figure of Rani in that black salwar kameez. The sight of a woman levitating between two large strong men whose dicks were as big as her forearm and as wide as her palm. It was ecstatic. While this was happening the other 2 goons rushed towards Aman pleading for permission to fuck a different woman lying on the ground.