Rajesh and Durga get married due to Panibai and Anurag,'s Father conspiracy. After Their marriage was done rajesh asked permission from Panibai to take Durga to his house but Panibai insisted Rajesh to stay in haveli for tonight.

Panibai took the newly wedded couple to Durga bedroom. Durga heart was feeling heavy with heartbreak to losing her childhood friendship and love with anurag. She went inside and sit on the bed. Panibai took Rajesh hand and pulled him outside.

Panibai whispered in low voice to rajesh " You should be always grateful to me rajesh because I m the sole reason due to which you are able to get married to Durga. Thank you for helping me and Anurag Father by agreeing to married her and kept her away from Anurag and Haveli. Now go and have fun with Durga virgin pussy. But Don't be too harsh on her , I don't want anymore drama in haveli."

Rajesh Nodded and he went inside the Durga room and closed the door.

"Look at me.” Rajesh voice was low, a rough command that cut through the muffled sounds of her crying. “You are my wife now.”

Durga squeezed her eyes shut tighter, turning her face away on the silk pillow. The heavy scent of Rajesh’s sandalwood attar filled the lavish bedroom, a room that was now hers. The thought made her stomach clench.

Rajesh. The man whose name had been a whisper in the haveli corridors, a man of quiet intimidation who carried out Anurag’s father’s will without question. And now he was her husband.

A large, calloused hand cupped Durga cheek, his thumb stroking away a tear with a touch that was surprisingly gentle, yet completely inescapable. It sent a shiver through her that was not entirely from fear.

“Do not hide from this, Durga,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “The entire village saw. The panchayat decided. Your Anurag… he did not stop it.”

The mention of Anurag was a physical blow. Durga saw his face again, pale and anguished in the wedding crowd, his eyes begging her to refuse, to run away with him. But how could she? The weight of her upbringing in the haveli, the stern authority of Panibai, and the iron will of Anurag’s father had pinned her in place like a butterfly in a case. She had stood there, a doll in red and gold, and let the rituals bind her to rajesh who she had seen from her childhood, the man more than twice her age.

Rajesh leaned over durga, his broad frame blocking the light from the single lamp. She felt the heat of his body, the solid strength of him. This is my duty, she told herself, the words a hollow chant. This is my fate.

His fingers went to the clasp of her heavy wedding necklace. The cold metal gave way with a soft click. He set it aside on the bedside table, the sound final. Then his hands were at the fastenings of her blouse, working them with a practical efficiency that made her breath hitch.

“Please…” The word was a mere breath, a last, futile protest. Durga tried to speak .

“Shhh,” Rajesh soothed, but it was not a request. It was an dismissal of her plea. His hands didn’t stop. The delicate fabric parted, and the cool night air touched her bare stomach, then her chest. She instinctively arched her back, a small gasp escaping her lips as the blouse was drawn away. His dark eyes roamed over her, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, barely contained by the thin fabric of her choli.

“So young,” he breathed, almost to himself. His thumb traced the lace edge of the bodice, brushing against the soft swell of her breast. A jolt, sharp and unexpected, shot through her. Her nipples tightened into aching peaks against the cloth, betraying the fear that tightened her throat.

Rajesh saw it. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips. He dipped his head, and his mouth found one tightened bud through the lace. The heat of his mouth, the dampness of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth—it was an assault on her senses. A moan, unbidden and shocking, slipped from her. Durga tangled her hands in the bedsheets, her knuckles white.

"No, this is wrong. I don’t want this." Durga thought.

But her body was singing a different tune, a traitorous melody of awakening sensation. He pulled the choli down, freeing her breasts to his gaze and his touch. His hands were everywhere, calloused palms skimming her sides, her flat stomach, before returning to cup the full weight of her breasts. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples until durgawas panting, her head thrashing on the pillow.

Rajesh shifted lower on the bed, his hands pushing up the silk of her lehenga. The cool air hit her bare legs, then her thighs. She squeezed them together, a last defense.

“Open for me, Durga,” he commanded, his voice thick with a desire she could no longer deny. When she hesitated, his large hand settled on her inner thigh, the warmth and weight of it both a threat and a promise. He applied steady, inexorable pressure until her legs fell apart.

He looked his fill, and the intensity in his gaze made her flush with a heat that had nothing to do with shame. He traced the damp silk of her innermost clothing, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Your body welcomes its husband, even if your mind resists,” he said, his voice a low rumble. With a deft tug, he pulled the final barrier aside.

Durga was exposed, utterly vulnerable. She whimpered, hiding her face in her arm. Rajesh didn’t allow it for long. He caught her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly above her head with one hand. The position arched her body towards him, offering everything.

“Watch,” he growled. “Watch me claim what is mine.”

Durga forced her eyes open. Rajesh was freeing himself from his own clothing, and her breath caught at the sight of him, hard and thick and intimidating. He leaned over her, the tip of his arousal pressing against her entrance. Durga was wet, embarrassingly, undeniably so, her own body’s readiness a confusing betrayal.

“There will be pain,” rajesh warned, his eyes locked on hers. “But only for a moment.”

He pushed.

It was a sharp, searing tear that made Durga cry out, a strangled sound that was swallowed by the opulent room. Tears welled in her eyes again. Rajesh stilled, buried deep inside her, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back. His forehead dropped to hers.

“It is done,” Rajesh whispered, his voice gruff. “The barrier is broken. Now… now there is only pleasure.”

Rajesh began to move, a slow, deliberate withdrawal followed by a smoother, deeper thrust. The initial sting began to fade, replaced by a new, fuller sensation. Each stroke rubbed against a spot deep inside her that made her nerves spark. Her hips, of their own volition, gave a small, answering push.

A low groan escaped him. “Yes… like that.”

Rajesh released Durga wrists, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, holding her steady as his thrusts grew more powerful, more urgent. The slap of skin on skin, his guttural groans, her own ragged pants—it was a rhythm that consumed her. Durga wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting each powerful drive of his hips.

The coil of pleasure she’d felt earlier tightened, spiraling unbearably. She was climbing toward something, a precipice she’d never known existed. Her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his back as the world narrowed to this bed, to this man filling her, stretching her, claiming her.

His pace became frantic, his control shattering. He drove into her, once, twice.