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

[novelistcasanova]

Back in Chennai, the city’s relentless noise felt sharper than ever. Every honk, every shout, every political chant reminded me of what I had lost — and what I still craved.

I had returned not as a victor, not as an MLA, but as a woman who had been deceived, stripped of her pride and her dreams.
The city hadn’t changed — but I had.
I sat in silence on the floor of my small prayer room, staring at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. I had once believed the divine would guide me, that devotion could open doors. But now, it all felt like theatre — and I had been the fool on stage.
The Party Leader called.
He knew. Of course he did. News travels fastest when it is soaked in scandal.
He didn’t ask about the scam. He didn’t offer sympathy. Only a proposition.
“Do you still want that MLA seat, Sudha?” he asked, voice smooth like silk. “You know what I need in return.”
I clenched the phone tighter.
This time, there were no saffron robes. No fake rituals. No deception.
Only a brutal, naked truth: Power in this world had a price, and now I understood its currency.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I simply whispered: “When do you want me to come?”
It wasn’t surrender.
It was choice.
The final one.
And I made it with eyes wide open.
After the call ended, my heart pounded with a strange mix of fear and determination. I needed to steel myself for what was to come.
I stepped into the bathroom, letting the warm water cascade over me like a cleansing river — washing away doubt, hesitation, and shame. The bathroom was warm and steamy, the sound of water flowing steady and soothing. I stood under the shower, letting the droplets trace their way over my skin — down my neck, across my shoulders, sliding along the soft curves of my breasts. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the heat mingle with the faint tremble in my hands.
The shower’s warm water poured over me, a steady stream that felt like liquid silk against my skin. I stood there, eyes closed, letting the heat seep into my muscles, easing away tension and doubt. My fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over my arms and legs, as if memorizing every curve and softness.
Then, with a quiet breath, I reached for the razor. The cool metal contrasted sharply with the warmth of the water. I began at my arms, carefully gliding it downward, feeling the gentle scbang as it whisked away every trace of hair. My skin tingled beneath the touch — smooth and bare, exposed but somehow strengthened.
Slowly, my hands traveled lower, caressing my thighs before the razor followed. The sensation was both intimate and empowering. I shaved every delicate inch of my body, from my knees up to the softness of my hips. Then, with steady hands, I traced my Pussy and Asshole and shaved my Pussy and Asshole clean, each stroke a quiet promise whispered to myself — to be flawless, prepared, irresistible.
The smoothness beneath my fingers made my breath hitch, a tremor of anticipation running through me. Vulnerable, yes — but in control. This ritual was mine, a secret armor before I faced the world outside.
The water washed away the remnants, cool droplets tickling my freshly bare skin. I lingered a moment longer, savoring the sensation, then stepped out, heart pounding, mind racing.
Tonight, I will be more than Sudha the councillor.
Tonight, I will be power, desire, and surrender all wrapped in one.
Stepping out of the shower, I reached for the soft, black fabric waiting on the dresser — my brand-new black bra and matching black panties. The delicate material felt cool and smooth as my fingers traced the lace edges, a quiet thrill running through me.
Slipping my arms through the bra straps, I adjusted it carefully, letting the snug fit support and shape me just right. The contrast of the dark fabric against my freshly shaved skin made me feel bold, confident — a secret strength hidden beneath my saree.
Next, I slid into the matching black panties, the silky touch embracing my hips like a whispered promise. The softness against my bare skin made my breath catch, a subtle reminder of the power I held — power that no one could see, but that I could feel deep inside.
Dressing in the party’s white saree would soon cover this secret armor, but beneath the folds, I was ready. Ready to face the Party Leader, ready to claim what I wanted, ready to play the game on my terms.
I slowly pulled the white petticoat up over my black panties, feeling the soft cotton glide over my freshly shaved skin, the contrast of colors electrifying beneath the thin fabric. The coolness of the white against the warmth of my body sent a delicious shiver through me. As the petticoat hugged my hips tightly, the delicate waistband pressed gently just above the lacy edge of my panties, hiding yet teasing the secret beneath.
I smoothed the fabric down my thighs, feeling the slight friction and the whisper of the cloth against my skin. The layers of white cotton wrapped me like a promise—pure and traditional on the outside, but beneath, a boldness that only I knew. The hidden black lace was my secret, my silent rebellion in this game of power and seduction.
With each breath, I felt my heartbeat quicken, the mixture of anticipation and the soft sensation of the petticoat stirring something deeper inside me. It was more than just clothing—it was armor and invitation, the delicate veil between who I was and who I was about to become.
I reached for my crisp white blouse, its fabric cool and smooth in my hands. Slowly, I slipped my arms into the sleeves, feeling the soft cotton brush against my skin. The blouse was slightly sheer, and beneath it, the black bra clung to me like a secret shadow — bold and daring against the purity of white.
As I hooked the blouse up, each hook slipped through the small loops with a gentle pop, the fabric tightening just enough to reveal the subtle curves beneath. The black bra cups peeked teasingly at the edges of the blouse, the contrast between light and dark igniting a thrilling heat inside me. I adjusted the collar, letting it sit perfectly, the delicate balance between modesty and seduction.
The blouse hugged my shoulders, framing my neck and collarbones, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror — a woman caught between innocence and desire, power and vulnerability. The black bra beneath the white blouse was a silent promise, a hidden fire beneath the calm surface. It was my armor and my temptation, my strength and my surrender.
I took the soft, white saree with the bold red and black border in my hands, its fabric cool and flowing like a gentle river slipping through my fingers. Slowly, I began to dbang it around my waist, letting the cloth glide smoothly over my hips, the edge dipping deliberately just below my navel — a subtle reveal of the curve beneath.
The pallu fell gracefully over my shoulder, its weight comforting yet commanding. As I adjusted the pleats, the saree clung lightly to my body, tracing the swell of my hips and the gentle arch of my waist. The fabric whispered secrets with every slight movement, hinting at the skin beneath without giving it away.
Standing before the mirror, I admired the delicate balance — the modesty of the traditional dbang, yet the sensuality of the saree sitting low, just where I wanted it. It was my statement: poised, powerful, and provocatively aware of every gaze that might follow me.
The cool silk against my skin, the vibrant colors framing my form — I was ready. Ready to walk into the world wearing my ambition like a second skin, beautiful and unapologetically bold.
The moment Raghav’s eyes landed on me, dressed in my pristine white saree with the red and black border, something primal stirred deep inside him. His gaze traced every curve beneath the fabric, lingering on the hint of black lace beneath my blouse.
He stepped closer, the heat from his body pressing against mine. “Sudha… you look… irresistible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
I felt a shiver run down my spine, the mix of temptation and guilt swirling within me. “Raghav, I have to go. The Municipal Corporation meeting starts soon.” My voice was soft but firm, trying to steady my trembling heart.
He reached out, cupping my cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing along my jawline. “You’re always working… always chasing your ambitions.” His voice lowered, almost a growl. “But what about me? What about us?”
I looked down for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. “You know I love you. I do this for our family… for our sons.”
His fingers tightened on my face, pulling me to look into his dark, searching eyes. “Love isn’t enough, Sudha. I want you — right here, right now.”
I bit my lower lip, my breath hitching as his hand slid slowly down my neck, trailing to the edge of my blouse. “Raghav…” I whispered, conflicted, the heat between us undeniable.
He pressed his forehead against mine. “Just for a moment. Let me remind you of what you mean to me.”
Before I could answer, his lips found mine, slow and searing. I hesitated but then melted into the kiss, my hands trembling as they rested on his chest. The scent of his skin, the warmth of his body—it pulled me away from my worries, even if just for a fleeting moment.
Pulling back slightly, he whispered against my lips, “Stay. Forget the meeting. Be mine.”
I closed my eyes, my heart pounding fiercely. “Raghav, I’m scared… so much is at stake.”
He cupped my face again, his gaze steady and full of longing. “I’m here. We’ll face everything together. But right now… I need you.”
Torn between duty and desire, I felt the fragile line between control and surrender blur.
Just as Raghav’s lips trailed down my neck, my phone buzzed sharply against the wooden table.
I pulled away slightly, fumbling to see the screen. The caller ID flashed: Party Leader.