Canadian Marriage

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.

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All characters in this story are fictitious with no relationship to any person living or dead.

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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 will give us a lot of 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 sari with a tight blouse that bared my straight back and showed my firm young breasts to advantage. She tied a tight choker necklace with a heavy gold pendant around my neck to emphasize its swan-like grace.

"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, this match is very important 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 fifty kilograms, 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 like 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. "Small, but so firm." He went on in a normal tone to my parents. "Her figure has the promise of fertility. Her exquisite little breasts will swell with mother's milk."

Both Father and Mother looked confused.

"She will bear your heirs, Seth Rashid," said Mother, after a pause. She tried to look confident, but her voice sounded uncertain.

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 bra and blouse. Normally my nipples grew firm and hard when I was cold, not when I was hot!

Then one of his hands slid down from my breast to rest on the swell of my belly. It was covered by the sweep of my pallu, so even though I was facing 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. My expression was piteous, but my parents 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 centimeters taller than me and fits me very well. I like tall girls."

"Yes," said Mother, proudly. "Jahan Ara was always the tallest girl in her class."

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

"Oh, Iqbal is about your height, maybe a bit shorter," said Seth Rashid, airily. "You will be 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 short, 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 billowed my pallu to obscure the movement between my legs from my parents.

"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 their 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 on to 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 into the crack between my buttocks cheeks. 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. Under the cover of my pallu, he again cupped each of my firm, young breasts. With a quick movement, he undid the hooks of my gold lame blouse and pulled down the cups of my lace bra. His fingers moved roughly over my bare 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 ballooned my pallu 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. 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. 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 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 bra was pulled down 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 daughter-in-law."

"Seth Rashid, you have made Jahan Ara the happiest girl in the world," said Mother.

"She is wet with joy," said Seth Rashid. "Tell your parents how wet you are, Jahan Ara."

My parents looked at him blankly, completely bewildered.

"I'm ... I'm ... very happy," I managed to mutter.

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After that everything happened very quickly. I protested to Mother, but she brushed my objections aside.

"Seth Rashid is far richer than your father," she said. "His son is a great catch. This is very important for our business."

I met Seth Rashid's son, Iqbal Khan, for the first time on the day of our marriage. He was dressed his groom's finery and I was in the complicated attire of a wealthy bride, complete with a great deal of jewelry. My older sister, Ayesha Banu, was there by my side to calm me – she had been married the previous year to Rizwan Premji, the son of another wealthy merchant.

The wedding night was in the bridal suite of the most luxurious hotel in town. It was a bit of an anti-climax. Both Iqbal and I were virgins and we fumbled around. It took Iqbal a long time to get me out of my wedding sari and gold lamé blouse. I took off my own petticoat as he tried to get out of his clothes as quickly as he could. When he saw me in the red bra, panties and stockings that my sister Ayesha Banu had bought especially for my wedding night, his erection grew to its full extent. It was quite modest, only slightly thicker and longer than a cigar. But it was the first erect cock that I had seen and it scared me. So I quickly snapped off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

The brief sight of his new wife in lingerie obviously excited him, for he threw himself on me like a starving man on food. He tore off my panties, managing to rip them in the process. He didn't bother taking off my bra, but just pulled down the cups to expose my breasts and dark red nipples. In the dark, it took him forever to get his cock lined up with my pussy. When he finally did, he tried to push into me and failed at the first attempt. He tried several more times with the same result. Even though his hard-on was small, I was tight and totally dry, for he had not aroused me in the least. Eventually he used the weight of his body and forced his cock into me. It hurt like hell and I screamed with pain. He thought it was a cry of passion and began to piston me as hard as he could. I screamed again, begging him to stop hurting me. Mercifully he only lasted through half a dozen thrusts before ejaculating his small load into me.

I knew that my sister Ayesha Banu and several of my young, married female cousins were listening outside the door in the traditional bridal party ritual. I heard them giggling after Iqbal was done and lay back in the covers. The next day, I asked Ayesha Banu about it. She laughed and said, "It sounded like he hurt you, but at least he didn't last long. My husband, Rizwan is the same."

Two days later, I flew to Canada with Seth Rashid and Iqbal.

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My life in Canada was a big change, but it quickly settled into a routine. Seth Rashid and Iqbal lived in a huge mansion with sprawling grounds, in the suburbs outside a large city. There was a swimming pool, a gym and stables with several fine horses.

As his new son-in-law, Iqbal took over managing Father's Canadian stores. Seth Rashid used his contacts to bring many new large buyers to Father's stores and sales boomed. Iqbal boasted to me of his job performance and kept telling me how lucky my family was with my marriage. My parents reiterated this when I spoke to them on the phone.

"Keep Iqbal happy, Jahan Ara," Mother said, every time we spoke. "You cannot believe how much more money we are making after your marriage. Seth Rashid has been very good to us."

Iqbal fucked me energetically every night, and was pleased with his efforts. His penetrations of my tight, dry pussy were still painful. He continued to assume that my cries of pain meant that I was enjoying our coupling, never realizing how far this was from the truth. But I thought of what Mother told me and dutifully lay back every night and let him get off. He seemed satisfied and often told me what a beautiful body I had.