Misc. Erotica The Rice Pulling Scam: A Tale of Seduction and Betrayal By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

The car hummed steadily as we sped through the countryside, fields of green and sun-drenched dust blurring past. In the front seat, Swamiji sat in silence, chanting occasionally, his rudraksha beads moving through his fingers like clockwork.

At first, I felt safe. Even honored. A powerful spiritual figure had chosen me. I was on the cusp of something transformative — something that could change my fate.
But as the sun dipped low and the sky turned saffron, the Swamiji’s eyes began to linger.
“Power sits beautifully on you, Amma,” he said, without turning from the window. “Even your silence radiates strength. No wonder they fear you.”
I smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond.
Later, when we stopped at a quiet dhaba for tea, he stood behind me as I drank from the steel tumbler, his voice low, almost in my ear:
“It’s not just your spirit, Amma… even your body is divine.”
I stiffened.
He chuckled softly and walked away as if he hadn’t said a thing.
I tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just his way. Maybe I was imagining it.
But it didn’t stop.
As the journey went on, he began offering prayers while placing his hands on my head a bit too long, brushing my arm as he handed me holy ash, calling me Devi with a tone that grew heavier by the hour.
I began to feel uneasy. The boundaries blurred. He was no longer just a guide. He was a man — watching me, studying me, wanting something he hadn’t yet spoken aloud.
But I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t. Not after what I had already risked.
My phone rang several times — my husband, my sons — and I silenced it each time. I told myself I was on a mission far greater than any one relationship.
Yet the road stretched longer. The hotel we stopped at was not a temple guest house. It was a private estate.
Remote. Quiet. One large bed.
He smiled gently as he handed me the room key.
“Rest, Amma. Tomorrow, we receive the device. Tomorrow, your destiny begins.”
I closed the door behind me, my heart pounding. The mirror across the room caught my reflection — a woman in a white cotton saree, wrapped in ambition and fear.
I sat on the edge of the bed, whispering to myself:
“You’ve come this far, Sudha. You can’t go back.”
But something told me, deep in my bones — this wasn’t a spiritual journey anymore.
This was a test of how far I was willing to go.