My name is Jahan Ara Peerally and I am the younger daughter of Seth Ismail Azeem Peerally and his wife, Nabila Nazneen Peerally. My father is a wealthy businessman and making money is the only thing that truly interests him. My sister Ayesha Banu and I were mostly brought up by my mother.

It all began when I was seventeen years old and happy with life. I was cooking in the kitchen with my mother. She was normally talkative, prattling on about anything under the sun, but this day she was unusually silent. Mother and I were very close, so I knew something was up.

“What’s the matter, Mother?” I asked.

“Nothing, Jahan Ara,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

“No,” I insisted. “I can tell that something is up.”

Mother was silent for a while, stirring the vegetables sautéing in a pan. I knew my mother, so I waited for her. Eventually, she spoke.

“Jahan Ara,” she said. “Your father has been contacted by a distant relative of ours, Seth Rashid Khan. He lives in Canada. He is looking for a bride for his son, Iqbal.”

My blood ran cold. Canada! I knew where this was going.

“But Mother, I am only seventeen!”
“By the time he comes here in three weeks, you will be eighteen. He will arrive just after your birthday. Your father is keen on this marriage. Seth Rashid is far wealthier than your father, he can give a lot of business to your father’s import-export business. It will be a fine match.”

My heart sank. I knew there was no use protesting. I wanted to study, I wanted to go to university, but all that was off the table now.

Seth Rashid came a week after my birthday. Mother dressed me in a richly brocaded pink sari. She brought out a pink bandeau demi-bra that hugged the underswells of my breasts but left my nipples bare.

"What is this -?" I began.

"Just be quiet, Jahan Ara," Mother said.

She made me wear a tight pink silk blouse embroidered with gold thread. It bared my straight back and showed my firm young breasts to advantage. Uncovered by my demi-bra, my nipples made prominent bumps in the silk of my blouse. She put gold bracelets and bangles on my wrists and tied a tight choker necklace with a heavy gold pendant around my neck to emphasize its swan-like grace.

"Mother!" I protested. "My nipples can be seen clearly!"

"Hush, Jahan Ara! You have beautiful breasts crowned by exquisite nipples. You are covered modestly, but we must show Seth Rashid how lovely you are."

*

“I apologize for coming like this,” said Seth Rashid. “This is normally women’s work. But my dear wife passed away several years ago and I must do what I can in her absence.”

He made me stand and walked around me, inspecting me like a mare in an auction. He came close and with his back to Father and Mother, allowed his eyes to linger on the swell of my breasts. Even though my blouse was mostly concealed under the heavy brocade of my sari pallu, the lust in his stare was palpable. It frightened me. I wrapped my pallu around myself to completely cover my tight blouse and hide my breasts from him. Then he went back to stand on the opposite side of the room from Father and Mother.

“Walk across the room for me, rajkumari,” he said to me, calling me ‘princess’. I looked over at Mother, but she merely nodded approvingly.

I walked across the room with him on one side and Father and Mother on the other. I swayed on the tall, strappy platform heels Mother had made me wear. I had protested, because I am quite tall for a girl, but she insisted, saying, “Being tall is an advantage on the marriage market. We must use every advantage as this match will be very good for you and for us.”

I turned at the end of the room and Seth Rashid beckoned me to return. I walked back up to him, eyelids fluttering with nervousness. It was awkward approaching him. For even though he was heavily muscled and must have outweighed me by a good hundred pounds or more, I was taller than him on my platform heels.

“Turn around, meri rani,” he said, calling me ‘my queen’.

I turned around so that I was facing Father and Mother with my back to him. He put his hands on my hips, holding them so tightly that I felt his fingers through my sari and petticoat, tracing the lines of my panties.

“A good set of hips, she’ll have no trouble birthing children,” he said.

To my amazement, my parents both beamed with pride.

“Indeed, she has a body made for childbearing,” said Father.

I blushed furiously, feeling the blood rushing to my face. His hands moved around, out of sight of my parents and he gripped my buttocks firmly, a cheek in each hand. He squeezed them hard and massaged them, making it me rock on my tall heels.

“Are you uncomfortable, soni?” he asked, calling me ‘sweetie’.

Father and Mother continued to smile when he said this.

“No, no,” I mumbled.

Then he pushed his fingers between my legs, gathering my sari and petticoat between my butt cheeks. I moved my hips, in an attempt to ease my discomfort, but this only enabled him to push his fingers deeper, pressing the layers of my sari and petticoat against my nether lips. I was shocked by how intimately he was able to invade my privacy through the protection of my clothing. I was dreadfully frightened of having my parents find out and causing a scene – and perhaps losing this match that they so wanted. But now I became aware of another feeling – a heat in my lower belly that was slowly descending to my loins.

“A firm, round ass. And a thick set of pussy lips.” His tone was low enough that my parents did not hear him. I blushed deeper. For some reason, his filthy talk seemed to accentuate the heat that was growing between my legs. “With an ass like this, you will be a great fuck, doggie style. But of course, no one has fucked you. Yet.”

His hands moved up from my buttocks to my lower back and traced the line of my bare spine, from my sari waistband to the hem of my blouse.

“She has a very straight back, Seth Ismail,” he said in a normal tone.

My father took it as a compliment and beamed even more broadly.

“I always made sure she maintained excellent posture,” said Mother, proudly. “She has had many offers to model, but of course, we have not allowed her to do that.”

“You are wise, Begum Peerally,” said Seth Rashid, gravely. “Models always have to sleep with producers and photographers. Any girl I consider for my son must be a virgin.”

Mother’s hand went to her mouth in shock.

“Seth Rashid! I had no idea the modeling profession is so wicked! I am relieved to tell you that our Jahan Ara is untouched.”

His hands slowly traced the hem of my tight blouse until they were under my armpits. I desperately moved the pallu of my sari around to cover his hands and hide them from my parents’ eyes. Shrouded by my pallu, his hands cupped my breasts and began to knead them, thumbs teasing the bumps that my nipples made through my bra and blouse.

“Perfect young breasts,” he whispered in my ear. "Perfect globes, so firm.” He went on in a normal tone to my parents. “Her figure has the promise of fertility. Her exquisite breasts will swell with mother’s milk.”

Father looked confused but Mother beamed.

"She has the breasts of a goddess, Seth Rashid," said Mother, after a pause. “She will bear your heirs."

I was beginning to feel hot all over. I could not understand why my nipples had grown so hard and knobby, raising ever bigger bumps through my blouse. Normally my nipples grew firm and hard when I was cold, not when I was hot!

"May I see them?" asked Seth Rashid.

"Of course," said Mother. "Jahan Ara, turn around to Seth Rashid and drop your pallu."

"But Mother -!" I began.

"Do as I say, Jahan Ara! I know what's best for you."

I turned around and obeyed my mother, dropping my pallu and looking down at the ground. Given permission by my mother, Seth Rashid now kneaded my breasts without subtlety. My breathing grew short and my I felt a sheen of sweat began to form on my forehead. My nipples grew even harder and poked through the thin silk of my blouse even more prominently.

Then one of his hands slid down from my breast to rest on the swell of my belly. With my back to my parents, they could not see it. I was too frightened to protest and cause a scene, but I could not help catching my breath in a gasp. Seth Rashid was bold and allowed his hand to linger, his thumb exploring my belly button. His fingers reached downward, sneaking under the pleats of my sari. I looked over my shoulder at my parents, my expression piteous, but they thought I looked shy and just continued smiling.

“She’s very obedient, Seth Rashid,” said Father. “She will do whatever you ask.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” said Seth Rashid, as he pushed his fingers lower, under my petticoat, finding the waistband of my lace panties. I tried to move away from him, but he held me fast, his other hand moving from one breast to the other.

“She is tall for a girl,” Seth Rashid continued. “Why, she now stands a few inches taller than me and fits me very well. I like tall girls.”

“Yes,” said Mother, proudly. “Jahan Ara was always one of the tallest girls in her class.”

“How tall is your son, Seth Rashid?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

“Oh, Iqbal is a bit shorter than you,” said Seth Rashid, airily. “You will be much taller than him when you wear heels like now, but I am not concerned about that. I think you will fit into our family very well.”

Seth Rashid’s hand pushed lower and I moved my hips trying to dislodge him. But I only succeeded in making it easier for him to drive his hand into my panties. His thumb touched and manipulated my clitoris. I had never even touched myself like this before and my mouth opened in a small “O”. I put my hand over it and covered my shocked mew with a cough.

I could not understand what was happening to me – the physical sensations were totally new to me. My breath was growing ever shorter, I felt the heat in my loins growing more intense. I felt wetness in my pussy, though I had no urge to urinate. I wanted it to stop, but only because I was afraid of making a scene between my parents and Seth Rashid. The feeling of his hand was undeniably pleasurable.

His thumb moved faster and then he pushed two fingers into my pussy. He worked them in and out in time in time with his thumb. I put my hands on his wrist, feeling it move as he drove his fingers into me.

“You’re a hot bitch, Jahan Ara,” Seth Rashid whispered in my ear. “It’s clear that no one has touched you before, but you have a naturally strong sex drive.”

“She has a fine hair,” he said aloud to my parents, keeping their attention at eye level. With two fingers still in me, his thumb still working my clitoris, his third finger caressed my pussy lips, running through my soft, dark pubic down. “Thick, dark, and sweet smelling. She seems to take after her lovely mother.”

“Oh, you are such a flatterer, Seth Rashid,” giggled Mother. “But run your fingers through our Jahan Ara’s hair, you will find it as soft as silk.”

“Oh, I am doing that already,” said Seth Rashid. “Her down is soft to the touch, not coarse and curly like most girls.”

My parents did not catch Seth Rashid’s reference to ‘down’ and just smiled serenely, completely unaware of what he was doing to me, their virgin daughter. Then Seth Rashid put his other hand on my head as Mother suggested, subtly pulling my hair to bring my head back. The pressure arched my neck and back. The movement caused my pussy to push forward even harder onto his invading hand. The move made me look upward and breathe through my mouth. The pendant on my choker necklace jiggled with my rapid breathing.

“Don’t be so nervous, child,” said Father. “Seth Rashid means you no harm.”

“Listen to your father, Jahan Ara,” Seth Rashid said. “Why are you so tense? Just let yourself go."

With that, he pushed even deeper into me with his fingers, I began to tremble and feel very hot all over, like I had a fever. I did not know what was happening to me, and when I felt the first contractions, I thought I was going to pee. When I did not, the relief so overwhelmed me that I exhaled a big sigh as my orgasm engulfed me. It was the first orgasm of my life and it surprised me with its continuing waves of pleasure. I exhaled small gasps with each contraction. My legs felt like they would not support me and I sagged back against Seth Rashid.

I felt a thick, hard object between his legs against my rump and he rubbed it against me. He moved his hips to insinuate the hard object against the swell of my bare belly. I could feel its heat even through his pants and the layers of my sari. I knew that boys and girls were different, but at this point, with my sheltered upbringing, I did not know what men had down there.

Both his hands now moved to support me and hold me against him. He again cupped each of my firm, young breasts. With a quick movement, he undid the front hooks of my gold lame blouse and grunted when he saw my demi-bra bared my nipples. His fingers moved roughly over my bared nipples, massaging a viscous liquid onto them. I smelled a faint aroma; though I was aware that it was from my body, the smell was new to me.

“Smell your sex, Jahan Ara,” Seth Rashid whispered in my ear. “My fingers in your pussy were doused with your wetness when you had your orgasm.”

My nipples were now so stiff that they were painful. But it was a pain unlike any I had ever felt before, for my hard nipples were a new source of pleasure, even as the waves of my orgasm began to subside.

“What’s the matter, Jahan Ara?” said Mother. “Are you feeling faint?”

“Yes, yes,” I faltered.

“A dizzy spell,” said Seth Rashid. “She needs some water.”

Mother left and went to the kitchen to get it. Seth Rashid continued to knead my breasts. I remained facing him to keep his probing hands out of sight of Father, thankful that the heavy brocaded silk of my sari provided an effective, tent-like covering for my lower body. I tried to dislodge his hands, but my efforts were halfhearted and he would not be deterred.

“Relax, Jahan Ara,” Seth Rashid whispered. “Your nipples are so hard and long! I am sure they taste sweet.”

“Are you still dizzy, Jahan Ara?” asked Father. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

“I’m … fine,” I stammered.

“Yes, yes,” said Seth Rashid. “Come, sit on my lap, child.”

Still holding me captive with his hands on my breasts, he sat on a chair and pulled me down to sit on his lap. My blouse hung open and my breasts were mostly bared by my demi-bra, so. used my pallu to cover them from my parents. His hard member was now implanted firmly between my buttocks cheeks, wedged in there by my body weight. My panties were already wet, but I felt a fresh oozing of fluids out of my pussy. I began to feel hot again and my breath was growing short.

“Jahan Ara, you look a bit bilious,” said Father. “Did you eat something unusual at lunch?”

“No, no, Father,” I said faintly.

“She’s just feeling overwhelmed by the occasion,” said Seth Rashid. “It is every girl’s dream to be married; the thought of being in a man’s bed for the first time is exciting.”

“Oh, I see,” said Father, quite at a loss.

Mother returned from the kitchen with a glass of water. As quickly as he had begun, Seth Rashid withdrew his probing hands from my breasts. Still holding me in his lap, he put his arm around my waist in a fatherly fashion to steady me, whispering in her ear, “Mashallah, Jahan Ara, it is obvious that no one has made you cum before. And I can see that my cock in your rump has you excited again.”

I drank the water and smiled weakly at Mother.

“Are you better, Jahan Ara?” she asked.

“Yes,” I managed to say.

Seth Rashid’s hand was still on the bare flesh of my waist under my pallu, but after what he had just done to me, this touch was almost innocent. Sitting on the hard reality of his cock, I could think of nothing other than the wetness seeping out of my panties and staining my petticoat. I even forgot that my blouse was undone, my skimpy demi-bra covered nothing, and my breasts were bare under the cover of my pallu.

“Your daughter is exactly what I am looking for, Seth Ismail,” Seth Rashid continued in a normal tone. “An innocent rose.”

“Indeed, she is,” gushed Mother. “You should see how she goes out of the house. She wears a silk headscarf covering everything but her eyes.”

Mother knew that this was rubbish – that I only wore the headscarf and long sleeves to keep from getting dark in the sun. I was several shades paler than my sister Ayesha Banu and was petrified that the sun would make me go from light caramel to chocolate brown like her.

“I would love to see her in it,” said Seth Rashid. “Once she is my...