Pakhandi Baba Ne Bacha Hoga Bol Kar Newly Married Bahu Ke Sath Kiya Kand A

The sun hung heavy in the sky above the dusty Indian village, its rays permeating the humble hut. Inside, the room was stifling, a humid miasma clinging to every surface. In the corner, a young woman rocked back and forth, her head in her hands. Tears streamed down her face, though she made no sound. This was her wedding night, the first in the company of her new husband, and the first time a man had ever touched her.

For days, her husband had been jabbering on about his guru, Pakhandi Baba, and the blessing the holy man had promised – that he would bring his bride to climax. But deep down, the young bride feared her husband was incapable of such a feat on his own.

Suddenly, the door burst open. The bride gasped, startled. Three figures entered, the leader brandishing a knife. The Godfather may have taken over Kon medals’ crew. Now this crew of lecherous local toughs wanted to collect tribute… in the form of the bride’s virginity.

She cowered as they advanced. Her husband shrank back, whimpering. The men cackled cruelly. One grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back. She felt the cold steel kiss her throat.

“Scream and die, whore,” the leader growled. “Give us what we want.”

The rough hands tore at her sari, exposing her breasts. She whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. This couldn’t be happening, not on her wedding night! Another man yanked her hips forward and forced her legs apart. She felt a hardness press against her virgin sex. She opened her mouth to scream…

And her husband shouted “Pakhandi Baba Ne Bacha Hoga Bol Kar!” calling upon his guru for aid against unspeakable Villainy.

The lecherous toughs froze. A hush fell over room, a palpable sense of power and dread. From the rafters above, a figure descended on a gossamer strand of silk, a pale, painted man with fathomless black eyes.

“Yes,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic. “I will save you.” He pointed a delicate finger at the leader. “Begone!” The man gasped, eyes rolling back in his head. Then he collapsed.

The guru glided into the room, oozing power. “Fear not, my children,” he said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “I am here.” Under his pure touch, the bride’s trembling ceased.

“Soon,” the guru said, “you will know a pleasure greater than any pain.” He smiled, never taking his eyes off her. “Trust me. Let me in…”

The bride felt herself hypnotized by the guru’s gaze. She nodded once, twice. The guru purred in pleasure. His hands roamed down her trembling body, caressing the exposed skin. She gasped at the intimate touch of this stranger.

Then he was gone, and she was alone with her husband once more. The guru had chased the lecherous crew away with the power of his presence. They quickly departed in fear.

Such a kind guru, such a blessing! The bride smiled up at her loving husband. But in her mind, she felt a shadow… a need she couldn’t quite place. Pakhandi Baba’s blessing was but a fleeting taste. She yearned to surrender to him fully.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clinging to her husband. “Thank you for saving me.” In her mind, she repeated it: Pakhandi Baba Ne Bacha Hoga Bol Kar.

The guru. Her savior. Her secret, unspoken new obsession. A craving that could only be sated by the guru himself.

The husband, unsuspecting, took his trembling bride in his arms. Gently, tenderly, as if she would break. She tried to respond in kind, but her mind was elsewhere.

Under the guru’s blessing, she knew pleasure. But to feel truly alive, she needed to feel his touch again. Needed to be chosen. Needed to be owned.

And so, the stage was set. A hymn for self-discovery, a siren’s song, a test of devotion.

Would the bride submit to the guru’s blessing… or follow her wedding vows? Her heart and body betrayed her desire. When it came to Pakhandi Baba, the newlywed woman was already playing with fire, consciously or not…