Priya’s prolapsed cunt hung obscenely between her spread thighs, the bright red inner walls twitching and leaking a constant river of thick, yellowish cum mixed with animal seed. The heavy iron weights attached to her clit and nipple rings dragged her tortured flesh downward, stretching the fresh piercings painfully. She lay on the cold rubber floor of Rashid Khan’s main dungeon studio, surrounded by her entire broken family. The 72-hour non-stop filming marathon had turned all six Sharma women into unrecognizable, cum-bloated fuck-beasts.

The massive doors of the mansion swung open at dawn. Twenty-five more women from Priya’s conservative village — aunts, older and younger cousins, nieces as young as 18, and even two distant relatives — were dragged in, still in their traditional salwar kameez and sarees, eyes wide with terror. They had been tricked into coming to “celebrate Priya’s college success.”