Lord Vikram had given strict orders the night before. Ananya was to be prepared as the most beautiful Indian bride the world had ever seen, yet every single detail would scream that she belonged to him completely.
The maids entered her chamber at first light, carrying trays laden with everything needed for a royal bride and more. Ananya stood naked in the center of the room, already wearing the golden collar and leash. Her body was a vision of overripe fertility. Five days of relentless Shatavari had swollen her breasts to an almost impossible size , heavy and pendulous, and so full that the skin shone taut and glossy. Milk leaked constantly from her dark, hugely puffy nipples, running in thick streams down the curves and dripping onto the marble floor. Her tiny innie was swollen and glistening, the lips parted and shiny with arousal.
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