Misc. Erotica Respect and Revenge

[Deepak.kapoor]

Sartaj Singh's Roar

Sartaj Singh stood tall—6 feet 2 inches in height, with a broad chest and the weight of the uniform on his shoulders. An officer of the Indian security officer Service, his entire life had been spent in the fight for justice.

His face was stern, his beard neatly groomed, and his blue turban was worn proudly—the mark of his Sikh heritage. He stood in his home office, phone pressed to his ear, speaking to the officer on the other end. His voice held a cold, unwavering authority that could strike terror into any enemy.

Sartaj: (Into the phone, voice booming like thunder) "Listen... I won't say this twice. Dead or alive, I don't give a damn. How powerful he is, which minister is shielding him—it's all utter garbage. I just want him arrested... or his corpse. Got it?"

There was some hesitation heard from the other side. Sartaj tightened his grip on the receiver, the veins on his arm bulging.

Sartaj: (Raising his voice even further) "I am Sartaj Singh. I am a Sikh. Our faith teaches us never to bow before injustice. If needed, we don't fear laying down our lives. But we do not leave the unjust alive. This is my final word—find him, capture him, or finish him. I want the report by tomorrow morning."

As soon as he slammed the phone down, silence descended upon the room. Sartaj took a deep breath, adjusted his turban, and turned toward the window. Outside, rain lashed against the glass, matching the storm brewing within him.

He knew that the man in question—a high-profile gangster backed by a minister—wouldn't go down easily. But Sartaj Singh had never backed away from a fight. In his life, justice came above all else.

At that exact moment, Sher was quietly eavesdropping on Sartaj's call from another extension in the house. Sartaj had taken the call on the home landline. Sher stood hidden near the room, holding the receiver to his ear, holding his breath. Every word from Sartaj pierced his ears like a poison arrow.

Sher's face went pale. His palms slicked with cold sweat. He knew Sartaj Singh was no ordinary man. This was the same cop who had finished Shankar Bhai—without a shred of fear.

Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Trembling, grinding his teeth) 'Lord Almighty... this Sartaj Singh... he's the real beast. I thought he just played protector to Meera, but he's out here issuing death warrants. If he ever finds out about my hunger... if he gets wind of the peephole, my stares, my plans... I'm a dead man. Dead or alive—he doesn't care. He'll butcher me, and he'll do it with a smile in the name of protecting Meera.'

Sher's heart hammered violently against his ribs. He hung up the receiver and backed away, collapsing against the wall. 

The dark lust still burned inside him—Meera's naked flesh, those heavy breasts, those voluptuous hips, that glistening center—it all whirled madly in his mind. But now, tangled with that raw hunger was an overwhelming, icy terror.

Sher [Internal Thoughts]: (Clutching his head) 'Shankar Bhai... you said Meera was pure gold, that I just needed to know how to melt her. But you didn't tell me how fucking lethal the lion guarding the gold really is. Sartaj Singh... if he figures out that I've been devouring his Memsaab with my eyes, with my filthy lust... they won't even find my body.'

He looked down at his swarthy palms—the same hands aching to lay hold of Meera's silky flesh. But now they were shivering. He forced himself up and slipped out of the room.

For Sher, the game had drastically shifted. The lust was still throbbing inside him, but now it was chained to a terrifying dread—the dread of Sartaj Singh.

Sher swore a silent oath to himself: 'I have to hold back for now... Sartaj Singh can't suspect a thing. But Meera... you will be mine. Just a little more patience.'

Yet that cold shiver remained rooted in his core—that booming, ruthless voice of Sartaj Singh echoing endlessly in his ears like a funeral bell: "I am a Sikh... we do not bow before injustice."

Sartaj Steps Out of the House


Sartaj Singh steps out of the office room. His face is still heavy with the seriousness of that phone conversation, but the moment he enters the living room, his eyes fall upon Meera. Meera is wearing a bathrobe—a white silk bathrobe, her hair still wet, with stray droplets dripping down onto her shoulders.

She is holding Jyoti in her arms, a soft smile resting on her lips. 

Sartaj's stern features instantly soften.

Sartaj: (Softening his voice, stepping toward Meera) "Meera... I swear to God, the second I lay eyes on you, all my exhaustion evaporated like smoke. Just finished your bath? This scent of your wet hair... and this radiant glow on your face... you have no idea what a breathtaking sight you are right now."

Meera: (Blushing, tossing her hair back) "Sartaj... you're back? Yes, I finished a short while ago. What happened at the office today? You seem a bit troubled."

Sartaj: (Shaking his head, coming closer to Meera and pressing a soft kiss to Jyoti's cheek) "It's nothing... just a case. But forget all that now. Listen, go get ready. We need to visit Chandan's place. He is still unwell, and I want to check on him personally. And yes... I need to give him some money too. He must be in need of help."

Meera: "Alright, I'll go get ready. Should we take Jyoti along with us?"

Sartaj: (Thinking for a moment) "No, let's leave Jyoti here. The auntie next door will keep an eye on her. You just go get ready quickly. Wear a saree—whichever one you like."

Just then, Sher emerges from the kitchen area, carrying a cup of tea on a tray. He stands quietly, but his eyes lock onto Meera's bathrobe—the silk clinging to her body, slightly damp, revealing the heavy swells beneath. Sher bows his head, but inside his mind, a storm rages.

Sartaj: (Noticing Sher) "Sher... you get ready too. You're coming with us. Chandan is an old friend of yours, isn't he? He'll be glad to see you."

Sher: (Humbly) "Yes, Saab... Chandan Bhai? Yes, sir, he is like a brother to me. I'll be ready. Just let me change my clothes?"

Sartaj: "Yes, hurry up. We'll leave in half an hour. Once Meera gets dressed, all three of us will head out. After visiting Chandan's house, I'll go straight to the office.Meera, you can return home with Sher."

Meera: (Smiling) "Alright, Sartaj. I'll be ready in just ten minutes."

Sartaj: (Taking Meera's hand lovingly) "Good. And yes... I'll come home early this evening. I want to spend some time with you."

Meera: (Her eyes sparkling, blushing softly) "Yes... I'll be waiting for you."
Sartaj places a tender kiss on Meera's forehead, then lifts Jyoti into his arms to play with her. Sher stands by in silence, watching—his eyes burning with a twisted mix of jealousy, fear, and lust.

Sher [Internal Thoughts]: 'Sartaj Saab... you love Meera so damn much, but as for me... I’ve already devoured her with my eyes.'

Meera steps inside. Sartaj stands near the window, looking outside. 

Sher goes into his room, closes the door, and rests his head against the wall—his breath heavy, with Sartaj's booming voice still echoing in his ears. Yet, that sight of Meera in the bathrobe... it remains burned behind his eyelids.