Forced Sale

This is a Jack Grierson story, following from the 10 Chapters of Her Fiancé's Father.

This story uses Indian female clothing – sari, choli and petticoats – as a part of the action. A choli is a short blouse that typically ends just below the breasts. A sari is a six-yard bolt of cloth that is wrapped around the body, pleated and tucked into a petticoat. One end is worn over the left shoulder and is called the pallu. The pallu is sometimes worn over the head and sometimes drawn around the right shoulder to envelope the entire upper body over the choli.

*****

1. "I'd like to see something old," said Jack. "I'm in India, after all. I'm after something that has a provenance. My wife is the daughter of a billionaire and I need something unique."

The salesgirl looked disappointed. She was on commission and she could see that this well-heeled customer wanted something that she could not sell. Jack tore his eyes away from her and looked around the counters to all the other salesgirls. They were uniformly young and very pretty. They were all dressed to exude sex appeal, calculated to encourage customers to spend money. They wore very thin blue chiffon uniform saris with embroidery done with gold thread. They wore the saris "hipster style" – very low waists that exposed a great deal of midriff, with the pleats tucked in just above the crotch. They wore very brief choli-style blouses that ended in a band of gold thread embroidery just below their breasts. The cholis had halter necks that tied in trailing bows at the back of their necks and bared their shoulders.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked a newcomer who appeared suddenly out of a back office

"He is asking to see antique pieces, ma'am," said the salesgirl.

"I see," she said. The newcomer had come up quietly, but once Jack saw her, he could not take his eyes off her. She was tall with a complexion the color of milk chocolate. Her eyes were large, dark and very expressive. Her hair was straight, jet-black and piled on top of her head in an attractive coiffure.

She wore an identical sari and choli outfit to the other salesgirls, but hers was in yellow. There were gold bangles on both her wrists as well as red kumkum in the part in her hair, indicating that she was married. In addition, she wore pearl earrings and a pearl choker – a double strand of smoky pearls with a gold pendant.

She had a ripe, hourglass figure and the outfit showed it off to very good advantage. Her breasts were full without being too large and her waist was narrow. The swell of her belly was very sexy under the gauzy, translucent chiffon of her pallu. Her rounded hips rolled as she walked in a manner that was guaranteed to attract male attention. She wore her sari waistline as low as the salesgirls and Jack mentally measured the few inches between the hipster pleats and her crotch.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked him.

"Who are you?" asked Jack.

"I'm Ayesha Banu Peerally Premji. My father is Seth Ismail Azeem Peerally, the owner of this store. He owns three other ones just like it. I can take you into the strong room and show you some antique pieces with impeccable provenances. But they will be very expensive."

"How much?" asked Jack.

"The cheapest ones are about ..." she paused and did the mental calculation converting the rupees to dollars. "A hundred thousand US dollars."

"Good. That's just what I was looking for."

"We don't take personal checks. There is a twenty percent markup on credit cards. We really prefer cash."

Jack put his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of US currency. He riffled through the wad, showing her the denomination of the wad – they were thousand dollar bills.

"There's a hundred G's here," he said. "I've got four more wads, in case I see something I really like."

"Follow me," she said, completely unimpressed.

She led the way to the rear of the store and pressed a sequence of panels on the wall. A section of the wall slid away to reveal a six-foot tall strong room steel door. She used a palm scanner, then placed her face in a retina reader and finally punched in a code. The strong room door swung open slowly.

She gathered the pleats of her sari and stepped over the sill into the strong room. Jack followed her, noting Ayesha's high-heeled thong slippers and trim ankles as she raised her sari. As soon as he was in, the room swung shut behind him and the locks reset with an obvious whirring sound. The walls of the strong room were covered with metal lock boxes, while both sidewalls had full-length mirrors that made the room appear larger that it actually was. There was a heavy, polished table that ran down the center of the strong room.

The air-conditioners in the strong room was set quite a bit lower than those in the outer store. Ayesha drew the pallu of her sari around her bare shoulders, but it was so thin that it offered little additional protection. She went around one side of the table and turned to find him on the same side with her.

He was staring at her breasts. She realized that the cold had hardened her thick, meaty nipples and they projected forth quite obviously even through the thin layers of her bra, choli and two chiffon layers of the pallu she had wrapped around herself. The openness with which he stared at her breasts disconcerted her. To cover it, she turned away, unlocked one of the lock boxes and drew out a heavy gold necklace studded with diamonds and emeralds.

"This is a fine piece," she said. "It was made for Asaf Jah VI, the 9th Nizam of Hyderabad who presented it to his fourth and youngest wife on the occasion of their wedding. Its provenance dates it to 1896. The descendants of the Nizam sold it at auction in 1953 to finance their sheep station in Australia. My grandfather acquired it then and it has been in our collection ever since."

"How much?"

She read down to the end of the provenance.

"Five hundred thousand US dollars," she said flatly.

"Ridiculous. I could get a two thousand year old Greek amphora for less than that. I'll give you a three hundred thousand."

"Four hundred and fifty," she said.

Jack looked from the necklace to Ayesha. His eyes traced a path from her crotch to her breasts and back again, lingering on the swell of her belly and then on the prominent bumps that her nipples made in her clothing. Finally, he raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

"Put it on," he said.

She hesitated. But then she thought of her frustration at her father's airy dismissal of all the modernizing management practices she had put in place. Of how he refused to understand how her hard work had reduced their operating costs by twenty percent, swelling their profits by millions. Of how he refused to pay her a salary, insisting that he would buy her whatever she wanted. 'We are merchants, little one,' he always told her. 'If you really want to me to pay you, sell merchandise and I will give you a thirty percent commission.' This sale would be worth millions of rupees. It would make her a handsome commission and it would be her own money. More importantly, it would make him take her seriously.

She took the necklace out of the steel tray and ran it through her fingers. The diamonds and emeralds sparkled in the recessed lights in the strong room ceiling. She draped it around her neck and snapped on the clasp. She had to raise her arms to put on the necklace and it raised her breasts, causing them to jounce seductively.

"There," she said. "What do you think?"

Jack stepped up to her and ran his fingers over the necklace, allowing them to brush her dusky skin. His fingers lingered on, creating an intimate contact.

"Don't," she said.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand," he whispered. The fingers of his right hand traced a line on her skin up from the necklace to the pearl choker on her throat. His left hand took her right hand, lightly interlacing his fingers with hers. Her pallu fell off her bare right shoulder, exposing the tie of her halter at the back of her neck.

"Four hundred," she said.

"Three hundred ninety for the necklace," Jack murmured. "And ten to fuck you."

"That's not funny," she said, giggling nervously.

Suddenly, he tightened his hold on her right and twisted it behind her back. His right hand swept her pallu off her left shoulder and it fell to the ground.

She knew the strong room was soundproof, so there was no point in screaming. She twisted, trying to reach for the red alarm button at the end of the table. But Jack twisted her arm even harder, forcing her face down on the table. Her reach for the alarm button fell short by over two feet.

"My God! What are you doing?" she cried.

"I'm going to fuck you, Ayesha," he said.

"You can't! This room is recorded! Everything will be on video!"

"So much the better. We'll make a sex tape."

"Our guards are monitoring the video! They will be in here in minutes – you'll be arrested for rape!"

"I don't think so," said Jack, untying the halter neck of her choli. "I paid your guards to go away for an hour and have a cup of tea. If you bring up the video as evidence in a rape trial, you may convict me, but you will lose everything. Your husband will divorce you for being fucked by another man. No one else will marry you."

"Please! Don't do this to me!"

"Calm down, Ayesha. You will enjoy it. Just let me pleasure you."

"No!"

Jack unhooked the two front hooks of her blouse and pulled it off her. She wore a yellow, strapless, low cut bra. He kneaded her full breasts, working the think yellow silk of the lingerie on to her skin. Then he hauled her upright and pulled down her bra cups, revealing that her nipples were coal black. She inhaled sharply as his fingers ran over her sensitive nipples, causing her breasts to jounce again. The action was reflected in the full-length mirror in front of them and Ayesha could not take her eyes off it. He kissed the back of her neck, drawing a gasp from her.

He was hard and fully erect now. He ground his hips against her buttocks, giving her a tight feel of his enormous hard-on through their clothing.

She still fought him, panting with the exertion. He kept whispering in her ear, "Shhh, just relax. Shhh, you're going to love what I do to you ..."

His continual working on her sensitive nipples began to have an effect and gave an edge to her panting. But she still fought to free herself.

Then his right hand drifted lower and massaged the swell of her belly. It drifted even lower and pulled the pleats of her sari out of her petticoat.

"God! Don't!" she cried.

"Hush, ... hush," he said, soothingly. "Look at your nipples they are getting even more swollen and harder."

"No, no, no," she gritted out.

He disengaged her sari from her petticoat and it slid down, pooling around her ankles. He slid his hand under the waistband of her petticoat worked it loose till it too slid down to form a silky, yellow ring on top of her sari. She wore a yellow thong trimmed with white lace.

Jack cupped her crotch and his thumb traced her pussy through the yellow silk. She was already slightly moist and his ministrations dampened her thong along her pussy.

"You're getting wet. You're getting excited. Look at your face in the mirror. Don't fight it," he whispered.

"No, no, no!" she moaned.

Then he released her twisted right arm. He put fingers of both hands in the waistband of her thong and stripped it down. Putting his arms around her waist, he lifted her up and out of the pooled thong, petticoat and sari and set her down beside them.

He held her tightly with both arms around her waist. He spent a moment looking at her near nakedness in the mirror. Her bra was just a strip of yellow silk underneath her breasts, her pearl choker was at her throat, the Nizam's precious necklace was around her neck and her high heels were on her feet. Her kumkum and bangles – the signs of her married state – added to her allure. Her bangles clinked as she struggled.

Her bush was trimmed to a neat line and her thick, nearly black pussy lips peeped through. Putting one hand up so that her full breasts were tight against his left forearm, he ran the fingers of his right hand along her bush. His fingers worked with incredible subtlety, so his touch grew more insistent very gradually. She did not even realize when his light probes changed to firm manipulations.

Her panting turned to gasping as he fingers found her clit, gently at first and then with increasing urgency. Her moistness turned to wetness.

"My God! Stop that! Oh! OHH!!"

Ayesha had never felt like this. Her husband Rizwan Premji fucked her every other day but it was always in the dark and over in less than two minutes. He never got her even the least bit excited.

Now she felt like she had a fever. Her heart was racing – she was breathing so hard she could hear herself panting and gasping. She was sopping wet and leaking out feminine juices that she did even know she had in her. She felt like she was climbing higher and higher, but she did not know where she was going.

Then Jack pushed two fingers into her and began to piston her hard, while working her clit with his thumb. It was too much for her and she began to cum. Her whole body convulsed in his arms as though she was having an epileptic fit.

"Oh! OH!! OHH!! OMIGOD!! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!"

As her orgasm reached its crescendo, she gave out wordless cries, both hands gripping his forearm that enclosed her breasts, her nails biting into his skin.

She was covered with sweat and leaned back on him, spent. He held her, cupping a breast in each hand, running a thumb over her engorged black nipples.

"Now I'm going to really fuck you, Ayesha," he whispered in her ear.

"No! I can't!! I can barely stand!"

"How old are you, Ayesha?"

"Twenty-two ..."

"So young," he whispered. "And so hot. I'll make you cum again. And again."

She felt his massive hard on again, but it felt different this time – hotter and fleshier. She had not seen him discard his pants, but he must have, for he was unmistakably against her, skin to skin.

He turned her around, put a hand on each of her buttocks and lifted her on to the smooth table. Her legs were splayed around him. They saw each other in the two full-length mirrors on the sidewalls of the strong room. He marveled at her straight back, the smooth, dark skin that rippled over the muscles of her shoulder blades and the spread of her full, rounded buttocks.

She was used to Rizwan, her young husband, who had rolls of fat and a sagging round belly, so seeing Jack's powerful, well-muscled frame was new and exciting. She looked down and got a glimpse of what looked like a thick hose between his legs. Rizwan's member, even fully erect, was nothing like this, so she was not sure what Jack had there. Then he backed away to position his cockhead and she saw it. It was so big that it frightened her.

"Ya ilahi!" she breathed. [My God!] "You cannot put that in me!"

"Shh ..." Jack whispered.

Before she could remonstrate further, he gripped the back of her neck with his left hand and kissed her. His thick tongue forced her mouth open and invaded it without subtlety. He sought her smooth tongue and she could not avoid the oral entanglement. She mewed and resumed struggling, her full breasts and bullet-hard nipples twisting against his chest. She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away, but it was futile for he was far too strong. As she twisted in his arms, she inadvertently rubbed her pussy and her still-swollen clit against his raging member, renewing the secretion of her feminine fluids. Her body's reactions weakened her resolve and soon her sweaty body was being driven more by passion than resistance.

He reveled in the feel of her body, the full breasts and hips so intensely female and designed for childbearing. Still lip-locked, he guided his huge cock to her entrance. She felt him and instinctively tried to back away, but there was nowhere to escape from his thrust. He pushed his cockhead into her, drawing satisfaction from her strangled cry that he choked with his tongue.

She was very hot and wet, but her pussy had never encountered anything like Jack before. He was so big and her pussy was so underused that she was incredibly tight around him. He had to rock back and forth, each time sinking further into her and drawing higher pitched mewing from her. Finally, with a strong thrust from an arched back, he sank his full length into her, past her cervix and distending her fornix. She tried to scream, but it was throttled in her mouth and the only sound that emerged was a muffled groan. She felt like she was impaled on a hot bar of steel. It felt so big that she thought she could feel him all the way up in her throat.

She was breathing noisily through her nose and feeling the beginnings of panic. Her clit was jammed against his mount harder than she had ever known. The stimulation was too much for her and she began to cum again, her pussy squeezing the hardness of his cock. She bucked on him, her legs scissoring tightly around his haunches, her arms tightening around his neck.

Jack let her descend a bit from her second orgasm. He released her mouth and kissed the side of her throat, drawing gasps from her.

"Ya Allah!" she panted. "You're tearing me apart! You're too big for me!"

Jack resumed whispering in her ear.

"Shhh ... We're in this together, Ayesha. I'm going to fuck you now. Don't think, just let your body react ..."

He began to rock into her, slowly at first. But he rapidly worked up a tempo and soon he was fucking her with a pounding rhythm. She was crying out, a little scream with each thrust that brought their mounts together with a wet smack. His cockhead plumbed depths that no one had reached before.

"Ya Allah! Ya Allah!! OMIGOD!!"

Her cries grew louder and she instinctively rotated her full hips, increasing the tightness with which her pussy gripped his huge dick. Her naïve sexual reactions and concentrated femaleness drove him over the edge and just as he felt the onset of her third orgasm, the twitching of her vaginal walls deep inside, he exploded. As he pumped gouts of thick jism into her, her own orgasm flowered and her powerful vaginal muscles contracted spasmodically, milking the last dregs of his musky ejaculate.

In spite of the strong air-conditioning, they were both covered with a renewed layer of sweat. They leaned on each other, dizzy with the high of their mutual release. She clung to him, fearing that she would not be able to hold herself up otherwise.

"My God, Jack!" panted Ayesha. "What did you do to me?"

"I just fucked your brains out, Ayesha. And you gave me a great ride!"

She felt his thick, warm jism beginning to leak out from around his softening cock to slowly seep down her inner thighs and realized what he had done.

"You bastard!" she exclaimed. "You didn't use a condom! You've forced your semen into me! This is a bad time of the month for me!"

"Relax," said Jack easily. "You're married. I'm sure your husband wants children."

"Not someone else's!"

"He need never know."

Jack pulled out of her with a plop. She looked down and saw that full extent of his ejaculations – she had never seen this much jism before and she covered her mouth to hide her jaw dropping. But as the high of her orgasms began to dissipate, her businesslike mind soon took over. She spoke rapidly, ticking off items on her fingers as she spoke.

"We need to get dressed right away. I need to get the security cam feed off the server before the guards see it. You need to give me four hundred thousand US dollars in cash and I need to set up a secure delivery to get the necklace to you."

She was already wiping herself off with her petticoat as she was speaking. She dressed rapidly, asking Jack to tie the halter-top of her choli in the final step. Jack was already dressed by the time she was ready. She looked at herself in the mirror to make sure everything was in place. Jack came up behind her and reached around, cupping and kneading her full breasts.