Toxic Hukum (6)

 

Mature content ahead 🟥

Hansika’s POV

"Halwa ache se bana. Sirf batein banani aati hai aur kuch nah," she snapped again, arms folded, her eyes scanning the kadhai as if searching for more flaws than sweetness.

I kept stirring the halwa silently. The heavy steel spoon felt like a weapon in my bruised hands — a reminder of the night before.

My legs were sore, aching with every step. My neck and arms had blue-red marks, still fresh from last night. A night that wasn’t soft, wasn’t gentle. 

Morning barely broken when Mahendra shook me awake.

"Uth ja. Aaj pehli rasoi hai teri, sab kuch time pe hona chahiye."

I got up wordlessly. He, meanwhile, had curled back into bed like he hadn’t woken me at all.

I had walked to the kitchen with slow steps. My back throbbed, and my head buzzed from the sleepless nights filled with loud rituals, heavy jewelry, unfamiliar faces, and endless instructions. All I wanted was sleep.

But instead, I was chopping vegetables, boiling milk, making halwa, pooris, sabzi, and whatnot — enough to feed nearly fifteen guests.

There were one or two helpers around, but their help was limited to handing me utensils or cleaning trays. The real cooking — the burden of proving myself — rested on me.

And through it all, her voice never stopped.

"Dahi kyun patla hai? Itna bhi nahi pata?"

"Garam masala daala bhi hai ya bas rang se kaam chala rahi ho?"

"Hamaare ghar ki izzat ka sawaal hai. Naak mat katwa dena."

Every word cut deeper than the last.

I felt light-headed. My hands trembled slightly as I added ghee to the halwa. I wanted to sit. Just for five minutes. But I knew I couldn’t. Not today.

This was my first day in my new home. My first rasoi.

I had to make it perfect — even if I was breaking inside.  

After almost one hour of standing, sweating, and managing every corner of the kitchen, everything was finally ready. The dishes were placed one by one in the hall — steaming puris, rich sabzi, perfectly browned halwa, and cool chaach.

I stood quietly behind Mahendra ji as the guests ate. Their voices rose with compliments.

"Bahut swaad banaya hai. Nayi bahu toh kamaal nikli!"

"Halwa toh bilkul ghar jaisa hai..."

I smiled faintly, my eyes lowered, my hands folded in front of me. But he… he didn’t say a word.

Mahendra ji ate silently, chewing slowly, his eyes downcast on the plate. Not once did he look at me. Not once did he say “well done,” or even acknowledge my presence.

Just as the breakfast was wrapping up, my mother-in-law’s voice cut through the little peace I had started to feel.

"Beta, aaj tujhe Chaudhary se hisaab karke aana hai. Warna 25 lakh leke bhaag jayega woh," she said loud enough for everyone to hear, as if the weight of the world now also rested on his shoulders.

My lips pressed tightly under my long veil. Today… today was supposed to be my paghera too. I had reminded myself in the morning to ask Mahendra ji to take me to my parents’ house after the rasoi.

But nothing was said.

“Jee,” he replied calmly, finishing the last bite on his plate. He wiped his hands, got up, and walked away with one of his cousins toward the veranda, without looking back at me.

I waited. Watched him leave. My throat was parched, stomach rumbling from hunger and exhaustion.

Once the guests started leaving and the room quieted down, I went to kitchen and picked up a plate full of food for myself. I had barely taken one bite—just one—when she called out.

Her voice came from behind, sharp and stern. She stepped into the kitchen, eyes scanning everything like a hawk.

I swallowed the bite in my mouth with effort and quickly stood straight, heart sinking again. Peace, even in the form of a single meal, wasn’t mine to claim today.

"Muft ki roti baad mein khana, pehle yeh bata ki Mahendra ne kya tohfa diya kal suhagrat pe?"

Her question struck like a slap. I froze, my half-eaten bite still in my mouth. I lowered my gaze, adjusted the slipping dupatta over my head and whispered, "Jee... maaji... jhumke."

She hummed, unimpressed.

"Hmmm... sone ke hi honge. Mujhe laake de woh, main tijori mein rakh dungi. Kya pata tu apne maa baap ko de de bechne ke liye."

My heart broke at her words. Not because of what she asked for, but because of what she thought of me. A girl who married their son just for gold and gifts. She didn’t see a daughter-in-law. She saw a burden, a threat.

"Jaldi jaa, khaana baad mein khana," she added sharply, leaving no space for protest.

I put the plate down with trembling hands. Hunger gave way to helplessness.

I rushed to my room, wiping my hands on the side of my saree. I opened the drawer beside the bed and picked up the small red box. That’s when Mahendra ji entered. He shut the door behind him and said flatly,

"Do teen jodi kapde baandh de mere."

I turned, hope flickering in my eyes.

"Aap bhi mere saath paghera par jayenge?"

He looked at me, confused. His hand reached inside the almirah and pulled out a worn-out diary, flipping through its pages.

"Kaisa paghera? Aur tu kahaan ja rahi hai?" he asked, walking closer to where I stood near the bed.

"Jee... woh... paghera ki rasam mein... main apne ghar jaungi—"

Before I could finish, his voice snapped.

"Nahi jaayegi. Yahin rahegi tu. Koi zarurat nahi. Kapde baandh de mere."

He turned away, sat on the wooden chair beside the window, and started scribbling something in the diary — calculations maybe, or numbers that made more sense to him. 

I quietly put aside the jewelry box, and started folding his clothes.

Just two days, I had thought. Two days to see my parents, to breathe in my own room, to cry a little on my mother's lap, to feel human again. But even that… was denied.

"Teen chaar din mein aa jaunga. Kuch hisaab karna hai mujhe," he murmured to himself, eyes fixed on the diary.

"Ghar pe milni chahiye tu. Aur jo bhi kaam ho, Raju (guard) ko bol dena," he added without looking at me.

"Jee," I replied softly.

I kept his packed bag aside and walked slowly near him, hesitating, standing by the side of his chair.

"Suniye," I said, barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, still looking down.

"Woh... mujhe jaane dijiye na maa ke ghar..."

He looked up sharply from his diary, eyes narrowing with frustration. In one quick motion, he stood up from the chair.

"Ek baar mana kiya toh samajh nahi aata kya tujhe?"

Before I could step back, his hands cupped my face roughly, holding me still.

His fingers dug slightly into my cheeks, and his eyes burned into mine.

The room fell silent except for the pounding of my heart.

"Zubaan nahi chalni chahiye teri mere saamne, samjhi?"

His words were low, but sharp like a slap. His grip on my face tightened, making tears sting in my eyes. I quickly nodded, biting back the ache forming in my throat.

He let go, and I staggered slightly, trying to compose myself.

"Subah hi dimaag ka dahi kar diya," he muttered between gritted teeth, running a hand through his hair, irritated.

I sniffed quietly, trying to hide my trembling. His anger — it didn’t scream, but it pressed down like weight, suffocating.

"Rona band kar. Abhi toh kuch kiya bhi nahi hai maine," he snapped.

I wiped my cheeks quickly, swallowing the sobs before they could reach my lips. I didn’t want to anger him more.

Then suddenly, his arms wrapped around me. For a moment, I froze. Was this… comfort? Did he feel bad? Did he regret his harshness?

But I was wrong.

"Ab toh kuch din baad milunga. Aaj pehle hi kar lete hain," he murmured against my ear.

Before I could understand or respond, his hands moved to the back of my blouse, and his lips crashed into mine — hungry, claiming, without pause.

My mind stilled.

And like an obedient wife, I obeyed.

He pushes me roughly onto the bed, his anger and frustration evident in his actions. 

His lips met mine and his tongue invaded my mouth exploring it completely. 

"Bhari saree pheni hai tune" he said and removed my clothes messily. His clothes took 1 minute to came undone and then he grabs my thighs and spreads them apart, ignoring the wince of pain. He enters me harshly, not giving me any time to adjust or prepare. 

"Ahhhh bhenchod itni kasi hui kyu hai teri chut ahhhh kal hi toh choda tha tujhe!!! He grunted and starts pounding into me roughly. 

He leans down and captures one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking hard and biting gently as he continues to thrust into me. 

"Ahhh Mahendra jee ohhh ahhh dheeme..." 

His hands grip my thighs tightly, keeping them spread wide for him.

"Ache se chod dunga tujhe saali ahhh bhulegi nhi mera lund tu agle kuch dino tak ahhh... He whispers against my skin before switching to the other nipple. 

"Ahhhhh randi ki tarah chudti hai tu mujhse saali ahhhhh lund gussa gussa ke puri chut khol dunga Teri aajjjj ahhhh ahhhh" He grunted to me dirty, his voice low and rough.

"Aur awaaze nikal saali ummmm sabko bata de apne pati se chudti hai roj ahhhh." He murmured and put his cock deep in my hole. 

"Ahhhh ohhhh" I bit his shoulder to stop myself from screaming and my stomach coiled to release it's juices. 

"Jakad mera lund aese hi kamini ahhhh ahhh chod chod ke teri chut ka bhosda bana dunga. Mere piche bhul nhi payegi tu mujhe ahhhh" he increased his pace and I came. around his cock like a whore. 

In no time, he turned me around and slaps my ass while drilling his cock in me. 

"Ahhhhh pura lund le mera ohhh ahhhh" The bed shakes violently with each forceful thrust, the headboard banging against the wall.

"Tere mote chuche ahhhh yeh moti gaand sali roj marunga teri chut ahhhh sirf meri biwi hai tu ahhhh roj chudegi na mujhse bol" my breasts bounce with the impact, and nipples red and swollen from his rough sucking. 

"Haaa...nnn jeee" my voice came muffled against the bed and pillows. 

"Nikal apna paani saali ahhhh ahhhhh geela kar mera lund aur zyda chodunga tujhe ahhh bheegi hui chut ko aur chodunga ahhhh" he rubbed my vagina and my legs shook to release as per his orders. 

"Kutiya ki tarah chudti hai saali tu mujhse ahhhh itna chodunga ki bache ho jayenge humare kuch dino me ahhhhh ahhh" 

He reaches up to grab my hips, positioning me perfectly against his dick and he fucks me mercilessly.

"Ahhhhh ahhh chut ka bhosda ban jayega ab Tera ahhhhh yaad rhegi tu ki pati ne ahhhh chodta tha aese. Sari baat manegi meri kutiya meri ahhh" I nodded and my head was ringing from tiredness and orgasam but he keeps fucking me aggressively, his balls slapping against my ass with each deep thrust. 

Sweat drips from his forehead onto his chest as he maintains a brutal pace. 

"Teri chut bharke jaunga ahhhh randi ki tarah nangi rahio mera paani leke ghumti rahio apni chut mei saali ahhhh ahhh" he kept his pace steady and grunted with each thrust. 

Feeling my pussy contracting around his length, Mahendra realizes that I was going to cum. 

"Moot degi kya mere lund par ahhhhh itna jakad mat mujhe ahhh ahhh chodne de ache se teri pyari chut ko!" 

He smirks cruelly and continues to pound into me, bringing me to release my juices. 

"Jhad gyi tu haan? randi meri ahhh geela kar rahi hai mujhe paani nikal ke ched se ahhhh" He whispers mockingly and his pace increased. 

"Ohhhh ahhhh dheere toh kijye ahhhh mai thak gyi hu ummm ahhhh" He slaps my red, sore ass cheek hard, making it sting even more. 

"Chup rhe ahhhh pati hu Tera chodne de mujhe teri yeh chut !! Kasi hui hai bhot dheele kar dunga ahhhh" The sound echoes through the room as he continues to pound into me from behind. 

"Teri chut mere lund ke liye khulegi bas ahhh aur mera lund hi ghusega isme ahhh saali!!" His hands roam over my curves, squeezing and slapping everytime with each thrust.* 

I cries out softly as he spanks her already red ass again and again, fucking me brutally from behind.

"Ahhh ache se chud le ahhhh pyar hai yeh tere pati ka ahhhhh pura lund le mera, pyar kar raha hai mera lund teri chut se ahhhh" He spreads my ass cheeks apart to watch his length disappear inside me, making my tight pussy squeeze his dick tighter.

He grabs a handful of my hair tightly and uses it like a rein to control my body. 

"Aane wala hai mera Hansika ahhhh ahhh mera lund dab raha hai ahhhh madarchod ahhh" He pulls back sharply, making me arch her back and lift my ass higher. 

He starts to pound into me mercilessly again, using my hair to bounce my body back onto his dick. 

"Ahhhhhhh Hansikaaaaa mera lund ahhhh...." 

With a final, deep thrust, he lets out a low growl and holds me tightly against him as he releases his hot cum deep inside me. 

"Pura maal nikal diya mera tune ummm ahhhhh" He pumps his hips a few more times, ensuring every last drop is deposited within my pussy. My pussy clenched and release it's juices as well, making me drop down on bed. 

Then he grabs my face roughly and pushes his semi-hard, cum-covered dick near my face before I can protest. 

"Chakh le apne pati ka pyar mmmpph" He holds his cock in place as it shooted some of his semen and I got the taste of his cum. 

His cock unload few ropes of cum directly onto my tongue and I swallowed it in mouth.

As Mahendra’s breathing grew heavier and then slowed, he collapsed onto me, his weight sinking into mine, pinning me to the bed. My body, still trembling, instinctively wrapped around his, arms holding him close in a quiet embrace for few minutes or half and hour. 

His phone rang suddenly, cutting the silence. He picked it up, spoke a few short words—something about being ready to leave—and then got up from the bed.

"Chalta hoon main, gaadi tayyar hai," he said while slipping into his clothes and reaching for the bag I had packed for him earlier.

He glanced back at me and gave a small smile. I tried to return it, though my face felt too heavy to move. And just like that, he walked out of the room.

I was still sitting there, trying to collect myself, when I heard my name being called again.

"Hansika!"

Her voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the corridor. I hurriedly got up, fixed my blouse and saree as fast as I could, tied my hair in a messy bun, and rushed out.

She stood near the doorway with a scowl, clearly displeased.

"Pati ko vidha bhi nahi kiya, itni der laga di?" she hissed, her eyes scanning me from top to bottom.

I stood quietly, head down. He had already left. The car was gone. So were most of the guests. A few relatives lingered around, chatting, resting, waiting for lunch.

And, I found myself on the kitchen floor, tired beyond words, kneading dough for the meal. My legs were stiff, my head heavy. I had barely eaten anything all day.

That’s when she came in again.

"Woh sone ke jhumke de," she said curtly, not looking at me.

I reached for the earrings I had kept on the corner of the kitchen slab and handed them over to her. As she took them, her eyes caught sight of the faint red marks on my hand — from his grip and our intercourse earlier.

She didn’t ask. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she gave a low hum, almost amused.

"Apne mard ko khush rakhegi toh bas pyaar ke nishaan honge... warna toh tu jaanti hi hai."

I lowered my gaze and nodded.

She continued as if giving an old, practiced lecture. 

"Ab chahe mard maare ya pyaar kare, rehna toh usi ke saath hai zindagi bhar. Jo woh bole, sun liya kar."

I nodded again. There was nothing else I could do.

Those were the same words my mother had told me before I left for my wedding.

"Shaadi ke baad sab kuch mard ke hisaab se chalana padta hai, beta. Bas chup rehna aur ghar sambhalna."

And now, here I was.

A simple woman.

Someone's daughter, now someone’s wife.

A puppet, moving to the strings tied by others.

And to keep my family’s honour intact... to avoid any more pain... I had chosen silence.

I had chosen to obey.

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