Ramya: the Billionaire's decision

I take my time in my cabin cleaning off the blood smears and washing semen out of my hair. I swear I can still taste White Guy's load on my breath. The pain killers Kiki left on my bathroom counter are most appreciated post-deflowering. I get a short nap in before I have to start getting ready for my dinner date with Raj.

The silk dress I choose from Kiki's offerings clings to my still-sensitive skin as I zip it up in the cabin. Every movement reminds me of what happened earlier, and I can't ignore the dull, throbbing ache between my legs. My breasts are sore too, like I went for a long run with the wrong bra. My knees are red from getting fucked in doggie style on the dais, and my legs will be sore tomorrow from cowgirl. I catch my reflection in the mirror and smile softly. My bronze skin glows under the warm light, my long black hair falling in soft waves over one shoulder. The dress hugs my curves, accentuating my heavy breasts and shapely hips. I look good. I look and feel like a woman who just got thoroughly fucked… and liked it.

There's a regrettable panty line showing through the thin dress. No way I'm going commando spotting blood like this.

I'm a woman now. I popped my cherry.

I laugh at the thought. It seems a little silly to have waited this long. But the wait was worth it. I loved my audition, and me being a virgin made it hotter for everyone.

Kiki knocks. It's time. She's in casual attire now, clearly not part of the date with Raj. Interestingly, she greets me with a warm peck on the lips, which I'm comfortable with now.

She escorts me along a lantern-lit path to Raj’s residence. I don't ask for feedback regarding the audition. I know I killed it. It boils down to whether Raj is actually serious about finding a wife or not.

The ocean breeze carries the scent of salt and flowers. When I arrive, Raj is already waiting on a private terrace overlooking the water. Candlelight flickers across the table, casting warm shadows. The view is breathtaking with moonlight dancing on the waves and the distant sound of the surf mixing with soft instrumental music. It's quite the contrast from the harsh lights and nude bodies from the audition.

"You're still my favorite. Be yourself," Kiki says, echoing her comments before my audition.

"Thank you... for everything," I say as she leaves us, pecking her lips one more time.

Raj stands as I approach, his eyes drinking me in. “You look stunning, Ramya.”

I feel a flutter in my stomach. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He pulls out my chair, and I sit carefully, wincing slightly as the soreness between my legs flares. Raj notices immediately.

“Are you alright?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

I laugh softly, cheeks warming. “I’m sitting on the evidence of what happened earlier. I’m spotting a little blood. It’s raw down there.”

Raj’s eyes darken with heat, but his expression stays warm. “That’s hot, actually.”

"Kind of is," I agree, laugh, then wince as the laugh triggers some kind of spasm in my rearranged guts.

"But I hope you recover nicely," he hastily adds. "It was an intense audition. You were incredibly brave.”

"Yes I was," I agree. Then the tall Pacific Islander who popped my cherry and whose real name I still don’t know approaches the table in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, carrying a tray. Raj smiles calmly.

“You’ve already met my associate,” Raj says smoothly.

"He looks familiar," I joke, grinning at the man I dubbed "Aquaman."

The tall man nods politely, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, charged second. “You look lovely tonight, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice steady despite the flush creeping up my neck.

He serves the first course with professional grace and retreats. The tension is subtle but electric.

The dinner is exquisite. I'm served fresh seafood, perfectly cooked, paired with crisp white wine. We talk easily about work, travel, and shared interests. Raj is charming, attentive, and surprisingly funny. For a while, the intense events of the audition feel distant.

Eventually, after Aquaman refreshes our drinks, the conversation circles back. "Did you enjoy your audition?"

My stretched-out pussy tingles at the reminder. "Yes."

"You did great. You had to lose your virginity. Do you resent being put through this?"

"Not at all. Raj, it hurt like hell at first. Honestly, I didn't think it would go in. He has a really big dick."

Raj chuckles. “That he does.” His eyes drift to my chest, where my pesky nipples are now poking through the thin fabric. It’s the reminder of Aquaman’s glorious penis combined with the affection of the man I want to marry.

I nod and grin. "Felt great once I got used to it. Raj, I promise you I had a great time. I don’t know if you’re seriously considering me for marriage, but I have no regrets. It was an amazing first time for me. And I enjoyed it more because you were watching. I enjoyed giving in to what you wanted. It felt good to let go."

The words come unrehearsed, but I can tell I've struck a chord with Raj. He likes what he is hearing.

I reach under the table, my hand reaching for Raj's cock, finding him hard and straining against his pants. The fabric at the tip of his cock is damp. He arches a brow, and I grin. "Just making sure you enjoyed my audition too."

"I did. I wanted so bad to be the one fucking you. I want you now. I love looking at those big tits in your dress, knowing how they look, knowing how those long legs will look wrapped around me."

"That makes me feel really good," I admit. He doesn't think I'm ruined after Aquaman. He likes my big, saggy breasts. He likes that I'm tall. I grin and hold up my empty ring finger. Raj had said he didn't want to have sex with his wife before marriage. But does he want to marry me, or does he just want to fuck me?

Aquaman comes to clear plates. We take a drink. The tension hangs in the air. I sense I will get an inkling of my chances soon. I feel we have a real connection, but Raj probably has great chemistry with lots of women.

His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t reassure me immediately. Instead, he takes another sip of wine, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make my heart race.

Then he sets his glass down and looks at me with quiet intensity.

"Ramya, I'd like you to be my wife. If you're up for it, I already booked my father a flight to America to meet with your parents. I think that's an important step, but honestly, if this is what you want too, then I think that's all we need."

I freeze, stunned. After all the anxiety on the arranged marriage market — the pressure, the uncertainty, the fear of never being enough — it’s actually happening.

“This is real, Ramya. I promise. You should say something.”

Tears prick my eyes. I reach across the table, and he takes my hand, his thumb brushing my knuckles. The touch sends warmth through me.

“Let’s let the parents meet first,” Raj continues, his voice warm. “Then I will get on one knee the American way and put a ring on that finger. How does that sound?”

Of course I accept.

We talk late into the night about family, future plans, and the life we might build. When dinner ends, Raj walks me back along the moonlit path. At my cabin door, he pulls me close and kisses me deeply, his hands gentle on my waist. I melt into him, my body still sore but aching for more.

He pulls back, eyes dark with promise. “Soon,” he whispers. “When you’re my wife.”

I watch him walk away, heart full, body buzzing. This is real.