The tractor’s engine died with a cough, leaving only the crunch of boots on dry soil. Twelve figures emerged from the sugarcane. Raj was on the ground fast, a boot on his throat. His wife, Priya, screamed—a raw, tearing sound—as hands clawed her saree, the silk shredding.

"*Na! Nahin!*" she shrieked, but a calloused palm muffled her. They dragged her into the tall crops. Raj heard the violent rustle, then a wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin. "Fuck, her cunt’s so tight!" a gruff voice grunted. An older man, maybe fifty, was on top of her. Raj glimpsed through stalks: the man’s thick, veiny cock pistoning into her pussy, her brown thighs forced wide, her breasts jiggling violently. Priya’s cries were choked sobs.

They dragged Raj closer by his hair. A younger guy, sweaty and grinning, was now fucking her face. "Suck it deep, bitch!" he snarled, gripping her braids, his balls slapping her chin. Priya gagged, tears and spit slicking his shaft. Another, a bearded man in his forties, knelt between her legs. "Let's see how this ass feels," he growled, spitting on his fingers before roughly working her tight rosebud. Priya screamed into the cock in her mouth as he began to force his way into her asshole.

They took turns. One squat man with rotten teeth made her ride him cowgirl, squeezing her tits painfully, biting her nipples until she wailed. Another