Misc. Erotica Respect and Revenge

[Deepak.kapoor]

Sher's Lust-Filled Obsession

At first glance, Sher's personality seemed like that of an ordinary, hardworking Indian householder—a man whose complexion had turned dark from working in the harsh sun.

His height was 5'9" inches, which gave him a strong and commanding stature. Age around 40 years. His eyes were deep and black. 


When Sher stepped across the threshold of Sartaj Singh's home for the first time, with revenge on his mind. He thought, he would just look at Sartaj's wife Meera, search for her weaknesses, and then fulfill Shankar Bhai's incomplete promise. But as soon as his gaze fell on Meera, everything changed.


Shankar Bhai had told tales of Meera's beauty—her silky skin, her shapely body, those eyes that could enchant anyone. But reality was far more flaming than that. Meera was in the third month of her pregnancy, and her body now looked fuller than before—a beauty that could ignite fire in any man's veins.


Meera was standing right in the middle of the living room. Her height 5'6" inches. Her face was fair and glowing, lips pink and full, eyes large and expressive.


She wore a dark blue silk saree, wrapped around her body as if someone had measured every curve of hers before stitching it. She had tied saree low on her thin but now slightly fuller waist, from which the deep pit of her navel peeped out lightly. That mild bulge of the belly—due to pregnancy—was making her even more attractive, like a ripe fruit waiting to be touched.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Scanning her from top to bottom, swallowing his dry spit) 'Oh God... what am i seeing? Shankar Bhai had rightly said that this isn't a woman, but an actual apsara. she is a flame of fire! what a waist... navel... as if someone carved it out of butter. And this bulge... uff! Feel like grabbing her right now, sucking her, biting her.'


Meera’s body was pure perfection—toned and firm, yet possessing a velvety softness that made her irresistibly tempting.


Her breasts were now fuller than before, imprisoned in the blouse but desperate to burst out at any moment. Hips round and shapely, which swayed in an intoxicating rhythm while walking. Her thighs soft, like layers of silk. The entire body was like a voluptuous statue.



Meera: (Her voice dripping with sweet authority) "So, your name is Sher? Chandan spoke so highly of you. I trust you'll handle the responsibilities of this house well."


Sher: (With lowered eyes, but looking sideways to stare at her breasts peeking through her pallu) "Yes Memsaab... I am just a humble servant. Serving you is our destiny." 

but there was turmoil in his mind—he was imagining how he would clasp Meera in his arms, kiss her lips, claw at her body.


Sartaj: (Seriously) "Look Sher, Chandan is my old companion. Until he gets well, the management of this house is in your hands. You can see Meera's condition, she shouldn't lack anything. Take care of Jyoti and manage all the household work."


Meera: (Smiling) "Sher, you just take care of the kitchen and market. The rest of the heavy work I will gradually manage, but yes, taking care of Jyoti comes first."


Sher bowed his head with humility, but inside his mind was a storm.


Sher is actually Shankar's stepbrother. Same Shankar who had turned the lives of Meera and her sister-in-law Riya into hell through blackmail. At that time, Meera was married to Riya's brother Aarav.


Fed up with Shankar's threats and humiliation, Meera had sought help from her old college companion Sartaj. Sartaj not only put an end to Shankar but also safely rescued Meera from that quagmire.


When Sartaj finished Shankar, he had also burnt to ashes all those pieces of evidence, photographs, and memories that Shankar used for blackmailing. Sartaj felt that he had uprooted every thorn of Meera's past. But he forgot that thorn named 'Sher'.


It was for this very reason that a dark fire burned in Sher's heart—a bitter rage for revenge against Sartaj, and a raw, violent hunger to possess Meera completely.


Shankar had made a dark promise to Sher—once he had satiated his filthy lust on Meera’s body, he would hand her over for Sher to take. Shankar was gone now, but Sher had infiltrated Sartaj’s house, driven by a raw hunger to claim that promised flesh for himself.


-----------------

As Meera went out of the room, Sher stood there staring at her leaving. Old memories refreshed in his mind.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Grinding his teeth) 'Sartaj Singh... you killed my brother and thought you won? Today, that woman whose honor you boast of protecting in your uniform was my brother’s property. Shankar Bhai had promised that once he was done playing with her, she would be mine. You killed him, but I still cradle that promise close to my heart. Meera... this lush, filled-out body of yours, these heavy, swollen breasts, these swaying hips—they are all mine by right. I will ravish you slowly, agonizingly, savoring every bit of warmth between your thighs, and strip away your joy right before Sartaj’s eyes. You are nothing but a toy—my toy.'



He looked at his palms, which were craving to touch Meera's silky body. He imagined how he would plunge his fingers into Meera's navel, squeeze and press her breasts, and bite while kissing her lips. His breaths quickened, and the tension below became unbearable.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Standing in a dark corner, looking at Meera from afar) 'Sartaj Singh... you thought you burned everything? Those papers, those photos... all turned to ashes? But how will you douse this fire you ignited in this brain? Those last words of Shankar Bhai still echo in my ears. He had said—"Sher, this woman is fire, one just needs to know how to heat her up." You killed him, but his lust is now running in my veins.'


Sher had now completely secured his place in that house, but the cloak of a loyal servant was now just a pretense. The animal inside him was becoming more unbridled every day.


That filling body of Meera's... had ruined Sher's night's sleep and day too, thoughts of her ran in his veins like blood.


One day Sher was washing utensils in the kitchen when Meera slowly passed by. Sher lowered his head, but scanned everything from her feet to hips with a sideways glance.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Watching her swaying walk, licking his lips with his tongue) 'Oh God... what a bomb this Memsaab has become. Earlier she was just a woman, now she is a burning fire. Body filled with flesh, like a ripe fruit about to break from the branch. These hips... uff, so round—that bounce, that rhythm while walking... feel like grabbing from behind, pressing, and pressing against my waist.'


Meera stopped and bent down to pick up a utensil. Sher's breath hitched. From the neckline of the blouse, the deep cleavage of her breasts was peeking—heavy, round bulges that were swollen from pregnancy. They seemed ready to tear open the blouse and come out at any moment.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: 'Especially her... uff! These bursting bulges! When she walks, they also swing along... in an intoxicating rhythm. Feels as if ripe fruits... just waiting to be touched.'


Meera: (Casually) "Sher, did you feed milk to Jyoti?"


Sher: "Yes, Memsaab. Little princess drank milk to her fill and is sleeping soundly. You should not worry,  i am here to manage everything."

Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Staring intently at her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths) 'Yes, Memsaab! Fed the little girl, but now it’s my turn. These milk-heavy jugs you’re walking around with—it makes me want to pin you down right here and take them. My heart leaps into my throat just watching you! Just a few more days... then this body will be mine to claim. It’s me who’s going to suck the milk from these breasts... and I won’t stop until honey drips from between your thighs.'



Meera looked at Sher standing nearby, gave a slight smile at his humility.


Sher again got busy with his work, but his hands were now trembling, and his eyes were burning.


When she walked fast, their sway under the saree was clearly visible. Sher's hungry eyes saw everything—this wasn't just beauty, this was a ripe fruit. And a ripe fruit... "is plucked only to be tasted."


And those hips of hers... where were they ever this heavy before! Now they bulged out so shamelessly—round, deep, and peeking through the folds of her saree.


"Every curve of her waist... every sway, every twitch... swear to God, it shatters a man’s restraint. This woman has become pure, irresistible sin for me."

The saree clung to her body as if the tailor had stitched it right onto her bare flesh. It highlighted every curve and slope as though inviting the whole world to feast upon her. And whenever she walked, swaying forward, Sher’s entire universe contracted down to the rhythm of those heavy, undulating hips.


That sway... that deliberate, intoxicating, lethal rhythm of her hips.

"I watch her every day... I burn every day... but these eyes simply refuse to look away."

His throat would go dry, his hands clenching into tight fists, as dirty, filthy desires spun out of control in his mind. He had locked every inch of her voluptuous frame into his memory, forever dreaming of pressing against her and feeling her heat.

"Just once... if only that body would uncover itself right before my eyes..."


At night, that exact image haunted him relentlessly—her soft, sprawling flesh pressed tightly against his, surrendering completely to his embrace.

Even her fragrance had changed. Earthy. Intoxicating. Very strong.

When she passed nearby, he would inhale her fragrance into his breaths on the pretense of holding a tray, opening a door, or adjusting a curtain. But deep inside, the dam of his patience was now beginning to break.

"Just let a hand touch once... or stop near that bulge... then there will be no difference left between reality and thought."

He had now crossed all limits. And he knew this himself as well.

Due to her condition, Meera was often so engrossed in her discomforts that she didn't realize Sher's fixed gaze. He would stare at her when she wasn't looking, his eyes measuring every curve of Meera's body.

Her breasts, her hips, and that slight bulge of her belly... all these together were further fueling a passion inside him. But in the eyes of the world, Sher was still wearing the mask of a loyal and honest servant, neatly hiding his true intentions and lust.


Now Sher was beginning to understand why his brother, Shankar, was so crazy after Meera. Shankar had left more than just stories... he had also sent Sher some old photos of Meera. Among them were photos of her wrapped in a saree, in which she looked no less than an apsara.


But Shankar had managed to get another photo from somewhere, a photo in which she was just in her Bra and panties. Sher had kept those photos safely, and now every night in his room attached to the bungalow, he would keep staring at them.


One quiet evening, in the living area, Meera was kneeling near a low chest, sorting through a pile of clothes. Nearby, Sher was mopping the floor, while his eyes were  on Meera's every move.


She bent forward with carelessness and to pull out a bedsheet kept deep inside the chest.


And in just one moment...


Sher's breaths got stuck in his throat. Meera's pallu slipped, and the inner part of her blouse was exposed naked before his eyes.


Her breasts—filled, swollen—suddenly came into full view.


Sher [Internal Call]: 'Oh... Lord... is this not a dream! Is this not a dream!'


Sher froze right where he was, the mop in his hand went loose. His eyes remained wide open. His breath got stuck in his throat, and his heart started hammering in his chest like a sledgehammer.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: 'So beautiful... so filled... so real... far beyond even my dirty thoughts!'


They were right in front. Swollen due to pregnancy. Filled with pride. Hanging downward with that slow, painful attraction that drove him crazy.


But the real destruction was those nipples... those two bulges that had been freed from the captivity of her blouse. Dark crimson in color, as if wild berries had ripened. Firm... swollen... there was a tension on the tip, seeing which the tongue itself would go dry. And their slight downward tilt... that wasn't a tilt, that was an invitation. A silent call.


Their voice started echoing in Sher's mind.


Sher [Internal Dialogue]: 'They are calling... come... come and touch me... fill their weight in your palms... taste these firm buds with your lips...'


The thread of his mental balance snapped and broke.

Sher [Internal Scream]: 'This isn't a sight... this is a forest fire! This was a fire that wasn't outside, but burning inside me!'


Sher's mouth remained agape with astonishment and lust... he tried to swallow his spit. Breath seemed frozen in his lungs.


Meera pulled out the bedsheet and stood up while adjusting her pallu. She turned towards Sher, her posture completely calm and natural.


Meera: (Standing up, calmly) "Sher, what happened? Why did the mopping stop?"


It took Sher a moment to answer. His breathing was still fast, and the burning mark of that sight remained in his eyes.


Sher [Internal Thoughts]: 'Yes! The mopping stopped, because hands are desperate to do something else!'


A strange tingling started in his palms, such a sweet craving that just... just step forward and hold both those filled spheres. Feel their weight, absorb their heat into his fingers, and then slowly rub his thumb over those firm nipples until they stiffen further. He wanted to press that body against his own and taste it.


The handle of the mop was shaking in his hand.


Meera: (Coming closer, getting a little worried) "Are you okay, Sher? Your hands are trembling. You probably need rest."


With her coming closer, Sher's mind flared up. A weak voice screamed in his mind,

"Get away from here! Have you gone crazy! You will be caught!"—but a second, deep and powerful voice whispered:


Sher [Internal Dialogue]: 'What will happen from just touching once... no one will know... just one finger...'


He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think anything. He could only feel his hunger, his lust.


His massive lund craved to tear through the thick fabric of his pants. It was throbbing, aching, and a drop of lust glistened on its tip, which got absorbed into that rough cloth. He was fighting this uncontrollable craving to just take one step forward... just enough so that his fingers could touch that skin...


Meera: (Now worried, looking at him) "You really don't look well. You go and drink some water. I will call someone else."


Meera's gentle touch forced him to pull the brakes. The predator sitting inside him whispered:


Sher [Internal Whisper]: 'Not right now... a hunt is always done at the right time. This fruit is still on the tree... the joy of plucking it is when it falls into your lap on its own.'


Sher took a deep breath so that his face appeared calm.


Sher: (Normalizing) "Yes Memsaab, I am fine. Just... felt a little dizzy. I'll just change the water in the bucket and come."


He turned quickly and almost ran out of that room on the pretense of picking up the bucket, to get away for a while from that storm of lust that had gripped him.


Meera: (To herself, in her mind) 'What happened to Sher suddenly? Why was he looking so lost? He was talking about feeling dizzy, but what was that strange glint in his eyes... as if he was somewhere else even while being here.'


Just then Meera realized that while working, her pallu had slipped completely off her shoulder. Her blue bra and the depth of her bulges were clearly visible. Her heart sank.


Meera: (Flush of embarrassment spread across her face, hurriedly adjusting the pallu back) 'Oh God! Had my pallu fallen... did Sher see it? Is that why he got so flustered? Oh Meera! You should have taken care of your condition. But he is a poor, simple servant, probably ran away, out of shame.'


Inside the room, Meera took a long breath.


Meera: (Convincing herself) 'Maybe he was telling the truth, he must have felt dizzy due to heat and fatigue. Poor simple servant, he takes so much care of me. I shouldn't think such dirty thoughts. He was just helping.'


Meera's life revolved around Sartaj. Sartaj—the man who pulled her out of the darkness, who nurtured every wound of her past, and who gave her the love that Meera had never even thought she would get. Since marriage, every moment of Meera's belonged to Sartaj.


In his touch was that safety which Meera felt after years. In these months of pregnancy, Sartaj's care was even more—he would press her feet at night, bring her tea in the morning, and praise her for every little thing.


Meera felt that her world was now complete—a loving husband, a sweet daughter Jyoti, and now this upcoming new baby.

To Meera, Sher was nothing more than a servant—a reliable, hardworking helper sent by Chandan and welcomed into the house by Sartaj. Whenever her eyes fell upon him, she would offer a simple, harmless smile—the same polite smile she gave to anyone else.


At times, when fatigue crept in or an ache pulsed through her lower back, she would softly ask, "Sher, move this heavy luggage for me," or "Fetch this from the market."

And Sher would obey instantly, without a word of complaint. Meera felt a quiet comfort having a man around who could handle the heavy work so effortlessly.

She would think to herself, 'Poor man, he works so hard. Chandan was right—he is completely trustworthy.'

Late that night, when Sartaj returned home, Meera wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. Sartaj gently placed his palm over her slightly swollen belly, whispered sweet words to the growing life inside, and slowly stroked her waist, asking:

Sartaj: "How was your day, my love?"


Meera: (Smiling, melting into Sartaj’s chest) "Very good. Sher took such great care of Jyoti today. Poor guy works so hard all day long. You made the right choice hiring him."


Sartaj laughed softly and said, "Yes, Chandan told me he’s honest. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of."

Meera pressed a soft, lingering kiss against Sartaj's lips.

Little did Meera know how close she was to shattering the fragile wall of Sher's self-control. To Sher, she was no longer just a distant obsession—she was prey, and he was slowly, relentlessly pulling her into his reach.