Priya crawled across the cold stone floor like a broken animal, her body a obscene canvas of degradation — fresh welts crisscrossing her ass and thighs, heavy tits swinging with clamped nipples pulled taut, cum and piss leaking from her ruined pussy and asshole with every movement. Her mother sat frozen in horror on the edge of the altar, sari partially torn, eyes wide as her daughter approached.

“Maa… I’m sorry…” Priya whispered hoarsely, voice completely wrecked from hours of screaming and throat-fucking. Rahul stood tall behind her, his superior cock still hard and glistening, stroking it slowly as more men — distant relatives and village elders — descended the stairs, their lustful murmurs filling the chamber.