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

[novelistcasanova]

The Rice Pulling Scam: A Tale of Seduction and Betrayal

By Novelist Casanova

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick and heavy with anticipation. Bathed in the soft amber light, I stood bare in my Black Bra and Black Panties, every inch of me alive under his gaze. The Party Leader’s eyes darkened with desire as he closed the distance, and he began hugging me only in my Black Bra and Black Panties and began enjoying himself kissing my lips, it was as if the world fell away—nothing existed but the heat of his mouth on mine.

His kiss was deep, demanding, and utterly consuming. His hands framed my face, fingers tracing the curve of my jaw, pulling me closer as if he feared I might slip away. I could taste the sharp tang of his breath—spiced with the faintest hint of alcohol—and feel the desperate hunger in the way he kissed me, slow at first, then fiercely, almost ravenously.
My own body responded instinctively—my lips parted, inviting him in, my hands trembling as they found their way to his broad chest, feeling the steady pounding of his heart beneath his shirt. His tongue traced mine with a possessive urgency, exploring, claiming, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms.
His mouth left mine only briefly to trail heated kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, and back again, each touch sending sparks of pleasure mixed with a pang of something darker. His hands slipped beneath the lace, caressing my skin with a rough tenderness that both soothed and inflamed me. The warmth of his body pressed against mine was intoxicating, grounding me even as my mind spun with a whirl of conflicting emotions—desire, fear, power, and surrender.
In that moment, as he devoured my lips with a passion that left me dizzy, I realized I was more than just a woman in his bed. I was a symbol of ambition, a prize to be won, and yet beneath the lust, there was an undeniable connection — fragile, complicated, and impossible to untangle. And as his lips captured mine again and again, I felt myself caught between the pull of temptation and the dangerous game we were playing.

I am Sudha — a Ward Councillor in Chennai. Beautiful, poised, and deeply religious. I carry my strength not only in my voice but in every step I take. I am a woman who commands attention without asking for it.

Every morning, as the temple bells echoed through the streets, I stood before my mirror, dbanging the white saree with its bold red and black border — the official colors of our party. I wore it with purpose, pleated neatly, resting gracefully just below my navel. My long, oiled hair was always parted with care and tied into a braid that fell across my back. A round red bindi adorned my forehead, and my kajal-lined eyes — sharp and expressive — often spoke more than my words.
Even before I was elected, I noticed how heads turned when I walked down the street. I wasn’t just a woman — I was an image. A presence. My skin glowed with a dusky warmth that came not from parlors, but from morning sun and daily yoga under the open sky. I made time for myself — stretches that kept my back straight, my waist slender, and my body strong. I believed a leader must be centered — and I sought that balance in my daily rituals.
Despite being a mother of three, my figure bore little evidence of age or fatigue — a testament to my discipline and quiet pride. I was both rooted in tradition and reaching upward toward power.
I was married to a man who didn’t believe in God, but I held fast to my faith. He supported me silently, but I knew he would never understand the fire I felt whenever I watched the female MLAs walk past — commanding cars, crowds, and cameras with the flick of a finger. That’s what I wanted. Not for vanity, but for presence. To be seen. To be heard. To be obeyed.
And I knew — deep in my bones — that one day, I would get there.



It started with a glance. No—not from the Party Leader. From her.

She was everything I longed to be.
One morning, as I stood waiting for my turn at the constituency office, a sleek black SUV rolled up, and out stepped the newly elected MLA — dbangd in silk, flanked by men opening doors and bowing their heads. Her saree shimmered, her sunglasses flashed, and when she walked past me, even the crowd parted without a word.
No one dared raise their voice. Not even the Party Leader.
I felt something twist in my chest. Not jealousy. Yearning.
The respect, the command, the quiet fear she inspired—it lit a fire inside me that refused to die down. I wanted that. I needed that. And more than anything, I believed I was ready.
That night, I sat beside my husband under the dim kitchen light. While our sons slept, I told him what I wanted—not in a whisper, not with hesitation, but with the calm authority I had learned to carry.
“I want to be MLA.”
He looked up from his plate, eyes thoughtful. He had always supported my work. But when I asked him to speak to the Party Leader about endorsing me, he hesitated. He knew, as I did, what price the Party Leader would demand.
And I was right.
When my husband approached him—soft-spoken and sincere—the Party Leader simply smiled, then said it plainly:
"Two hundred crores... and your wife."
My husband said nothing. He came home, told me quietly, and went to bed.
But I lay awake the entire night.
That was the moment everything changed. I realized that no one would hand me power. If I wanted to become an MLA, I had to find my own path—no matter the cost.

They say the universe listens when a desire burns too hot. Mine did. It came, not in the form of a miracle, but in the guise of a holy man.

A few days after that humiliating refusal from the Party Leader, I was at a temple in Triplicane, pouring ghee into the sacred fire, praying silently for a sign—a path to power without shame. That’s when I met him.
He called himself Swamiji Kripananda. Dbangd in saffron robes, his forehead marked with sacred ash, eyes steady and calm—yet intense, almost too knowing. He greeted me with reverence, touched my feet instead of offering his hand. He said he had heard of me, that my name had appeared in visions.
I laughed politely, but something about his presence unsettled me. It wasn’t fear. It was curiosity.
He spoke of ancient secrets, of forces more powerful than politics. Then he whispered the words that made my heart stop:
“Rice Pulling.”
I had only vaguely heard of it—whispers of devices blessed by cosmic energy, capable of attracting wealth, power, even influence. But Swamiji spoke of it like a truth. He said there was a rare Rice Pulling device in Andhra Pradesh, hidden from the world, passed through generations of powerful kings and tantrics. He told me that those who possessed it gained more than riches—they gained command.
And then he said something that pierced right through me:
“You are meant for more, Amma. Not just to serve. To rule.”
I stared at him, stunned. No one had spoken to me like that before—not even my husband. It was as if he saw something buried in me, some truth I dared not admit to anyone: that I didn’t just want to be an MLA. I wanted to be obeyed.
“The cost,” he said, “is not money. The cost is belief. Trust. And readiness.”
But later, in a hushed meeting away from the temple crowd, he revealed the actual price.
One hundred crores. And secrecy.
I had to come alone. I had to keep it hidden from my husband, my party, even my family.
And I agreed.
I told my husband I had meetings with Andhra Ministers. He nodded, trusting me. And two days later, I boarded a car with the Swamiji, dressed in a cotton saree and shawl, a small bag clutched in my hand, my heart pounding with anticipation.
As the car left Chennai’s borders behind, I looked out the window and whispered silently:
“This is my path.”
What I didn’t know was that the path I had chosen was not lined with power—but deception, desire, and betrayal.

[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.

[novelistcasanova]

Morning came wrapped in the stillness of the Andhra countryside. The mist blanketed the trees and tiled rooftops like a secret waiting to be uncovered. Distant cries of birds echoed through the estate, carried on the cool breath of dawn. I lay still for a moment, cocooned in the soft folds of my white nighty, the cotton clinging gently to my skin after the night’s warmth.

I sat up slowly, brushing my long hair away from my face, the scent of sandalwood lingering from the incense still smouldering in the corner of the room. The air was cooler than I expected. It kissed my arms and neck as I stepped off the bed, bare feet pressing into the cool tiled floor.
The bathroom was modest — old brass fittings, a bucket and mug near the stone platform, and a mirror slightly cracked at one corner. I removed the nighty, folding it neatly on a stool beside the door.  Standing only in my dirty White Bra and Dirty Brown Panties I touched the water.  The water was cold at first, but the sharpness of it cleared my mind, grounding me in the reality of where I was — and what I had come here to do.
Removing my dirty White Bra and dirty Brown Panties, I washed myself in silence, the sound of water trickling like whispers in an otherwise quiet morning. As I stepped out, I dried myself quickly and wrapped a towel around my body. My skin tingled from the contrast between steam and breeze.
In front of the mirror, I wore my brand new White Panties over my clean shaved pussy, and wore my White Bra over my Boobs.  I wore my white petticoat and fastened the strings firmly at my waist over my White Panties. Then, I reached for my blouse — crisp white with elbow-length sleeves, its back tied with small cloth knots. I adjusted it carefully over my White Bra, its fabric snug and clean against my skin. Lastly, I unfolded my party saree — white, with a bold red and black border. The fabric was soft, familiar, and symbolic of everything I was still chasing. I dbangd it in one smooth motion, pleating it neatly below my navel, the pallu falling over my shoulder with practiced elegance.
In that reflection, I saw more than a woman — I saw someone poised between belief and ambition, wrapped in silence before the storm.
I stepped out into the early morning air, the mist still clinging to the ground like an uncertain future. The estate was silent, as though it too was holding its breath. I walked toward the prayer hall where the Swamiji had said the activation would happen.
He was already seated on the floor, surrounded by bowls of rice, a strange copper box, and old palm-leaf scriptures. His eyes were closed, his breathing measured. He looked calm — too calm.
“Today is the day,” he said, without opening his eyes. “The planetary hour is near. You must be ready.”
My heart beat faster. I’d already given him everything. One hundred crores — borrowed from lenders, sold land and pledged gold. All of it. I had crossed the point of no return. This device, this ritual, was all I had left.
“Swamiji… will I really get the power? Will I be respected like the other MLAs?”
He opened his eyes, slow and deliberate, and fixed them on me. “You will,” he said, his voice low and full of conviction. “But… there is one final requirement. To activate the rice pulling energy, the body of the one desiring power must be spiritually and physically awakened — through union with the energy of the guru.”
I blinked. The words didn’t make sense at first. My lips parted, but no sound came.
“Union… with me,” he added softly.
The mist outside felt colder now, the stillness more menacing.
I stood there, frozen.
He continued, “You must allow me to share my energy with you. Only then will the device respond.”
My mind whirled. This was not what I’d expected. I thought of my sons. Of my husband, indifferent to faith but loyal to me in his own quiet way. Of my dreams of power, respect, reverence — the kind I had yearned for all my life.
Everything now hung on a moment I couldn’t undo.
My heart was loud in my chest.
“I… I need a moment,” I said, stepping back.
“Choose quickly,” he said, “or the planetary alignment will pass, and all will be lost.”
I stood on the edge of something I couldn’t name — a cliff between ambition and dignity, desperation and self-worth. The Swamiji's words echoed in the silent room, each one landing heavier than the last.
“You must allow me to share my energy with you... Only then will the device respond.”
For a moment, everything blurred — my dreams of becoming an MLA, the power I believed I deserved, the humiliation of being dismissed by the Party Leader, the cold rejection from my atheist husband who had no understanding of how much I craved validation, reverence... control.
I had come too far. Sold too much. Risked everything. One hundred crores weren’t just numbers — they were my last cards in a political game I barely understood.
I looked into the Swamiji’s eyes and saw no divine spark. Only greed. Only lust masked behind saffron robes and fake scriptures. But I had believed. I had wanted to believe.
“Is there truly no other way?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Not in this life,” he said.


I stood frozen, heart pounding in my chest, the heavy silence pressing down like a suffocating blanket. His words echoed in my mind — “You must allow me to share my energy with you.” It was not just a request. It was a demand wrapped in shadows.
The room felt smaller, the air thick and warm against my skin. I could smell the faint scent of his sandalwood perfume mingling with the musty incense. His eyes, dark and hungry, searched mine for an answer, but all I felt was a whirlwind of fear, desire, and desperation.
My hands trembled at my sides. I thought of my three sons, my husband who barely understood me, the village that watched my every move, and the lofty dream of becoming an MLA — a dream that now seemed more fragile than ever.
Could I surrender my dignity for power? For respect?
But what choice did I have?
The weight of my sacrifices crushed my resolve.
I whispered, “If this is the only way…”
His hand cupped my cheek gently, a dangerous tenderness, and the world narrowed to the heat of his lips meeting mine.
As the Swamiji began kissing my lips, I immediately hated the taste of his lips.  As the Swamiji’s lips began munching my lips with his dry lips with an unexpected urgency — not gentle, but insistent, claiming and demanding. My breath caught, heart pounding wildly in my chest as a storm of emotions crashed within me: fear, confusion, and the dizzying pull of surrender.
His hands cradled my face, fingers tracing the line of my jaw as his kiss deepened, pressing against my resistance. The warmth of his breath mingled with mine, and for a moment, time seemed to dissolve — leaving only the weight of his presence and the bitter taste of a choice I wasn’t sure I wanted to make.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts, to find the strength buried beneath the turmoil. But the Swamiji’s kiss was relentless, a reminder that I had stepped far beyond the path I once walked — into a world where power came at a price I was only beginning to understand.
Swamiji's voice dropped to a low whisper, laced with command.
“Lift your saree… bend over. Only then will the energy flow.”
My heart froze. His words felt like a knife twisting in my chest, stripping away the last shreds of hope and dignity.
No.
I pulled back sharply, eyes blazing with defiance.
“I will not do that.”
My voice was steady, cold — a wall against his lustful demands. Despite everything, some lines could never be crossed.
He stared at me, surprised — maybe even angered — but I stood my ground. I might be desperate, but I was not broken.
Swamiji's eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper that cut through the room like a blade.
“If you don’t lift your saree and petticoat above your waist and bend over, you will lose your Ward Councillor post... and end up on the streets as a beggar.”
His words hammered at me, threatening everything I had worked for, everything I dreamed of becoming. The weight of his threat crushed my pride and hope alike.
My hands trembled as they moved to the saree’s border. Every fiber of my being screamed to resist, to fight back, but the fear of losing it all was sharper, more immediate.
Slowly, hesitantly, I grabbed my White Saree along with my White Petticoat and lifted, inch by inch — until the cool air brushed against my bare skin.  As I lifted my White Saree along with my White Petticoat and bent over revealing my White Panties I was wearing underneath, my breath hitched, the room spinning with shame and despair.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the bitter taste of my submission, praying silently for strength to survive what was to come.
As Swamiji's hand reached out, fingers brushing the delicate fabric of my white panties, and began grabbing my White Panties and began pulling my White Panties down, a cold wave of panic surged through my clean shaved Pussy and Asshole. My heart pounded fiercely, each beat echoing the turmoil inside — fear, shame, and an overwhelming guilt that clawed at my soul.
Was I betraying my husband? Betraying myself? The very thought twisted like a knife in my chest.
Trembling, I fought to steady my breath, desperate to hold onto some fragment of control as the weight of what I was doing pressed down harder with every passing second.
I closed my eyes, searching for a sliver of strength to face the impossible choice laid before me.
As he knelt behind me, a surge of conflicting emotions crashed through my body — desire tangled with shame, fear battling a strange helplessness. My body seemed to betray my heart, responding despite the storm raging inside me.
Every touch, every whisper of his breath sent ripples through me, awakening sensations I never wanted to feel in this moment. Yet my mind screamed in protest, caught between the hunger for power and the bitter taste of guilt.
I closed my eyes, fighting to hold onto who I was, even as the lines between strength and surrender blurred in the quiet shadows of that room.
All of a sudden the Swamiji began kneeling behind me and placing his hands on my Ass Cheeks and spreading my Ass Cheeks he began kissing my Pussy lips passionately, “mmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I moaned.  Taking his lips off my Pussy, “your pussy tastes yummy, Sudha,” he whispered and began touching my Pussy.
His fingers moved with a cold certainty, tracing paths that ignited sensations I hadn’t expected to feel — waves of warmth spreading through me despite the fear and shame tightening around my heart.
As Swamiji began fingering my Pussy with his middle finger, “mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm,” I began to moan.  Grabbing my Ass cheeks and feeling up my Ass Cheeks with his left hand as Swamiji began fingering my Pussy nicely with his right hand, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmm,” I began to moan, and I was about to cum.
Fingering my Pussy nicely, the moment Swamiji gave a strong kiss on my Asshole, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I moaned and came all over his fingers because my body betrayed me, trembling as a sudden rush overwhelmed my senses, leaving me breathless and shaking.
But beneath the fleeting pleasure, guilt sank deeper — heavier than any touch.
How could I feel this way? How could my body respond when my mind screamed resistance?
I was caught between two worlds — the desire for power and the crushing weight of betrayal.
Tears blurred my vision as I grappled with the stark reality: I had lost more than just money today.
As the Swamiji’s lips began licking and tasting my pussy, a deep self-loathing washed over my heart. How had I let myself come to this? Every touch felt like a betrayal — not just of my body, but of my dreams, my family, my very soul.
And yet, my body responded in spite of me, trembling with sensations I could neither control nor welcome. A flood of heat overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t stop the shameful release that betrayed my mind’s desperate resistance.
The moment he took his lips and tongue off my Pussy, a heavy guilt crushed down on me. I hurried to cover myself, pulling up my white panties first, then my petticoat, and finally wrapping my saree tightly around me, as if the fabric alone could shield me from the storm inside.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the tears of regret, wondering how I had fallen so far — and what price I would have to pay next.
Tasting his middle finger which fingered my pussy and made me cum, “your body is ready. Now, let us make love and activate the device.” as he exclaimed, I quickly began pulling up my White Panties and began wearing them properly.
He led me by the hand into a dimly lit chamber, the soft flicker of candles casting dancing shadows on the walls. The air was thick with a mix of incense and something darker — a tension I could hardly bear.
Every step felt like sinking deeper into a web I couldn’t escape. My heart pounded, caught between fear, desire, and a desperate hope that this sacrifice might finally bring me the power I craved.

[novelistcasanova]

I stood motionless in that candlelit chamber, my mind a whirlwind.

The Swamiji… no, the man who had disguised himself as one… waited patiently, as if this was all divinely ordained, not a con played on a desperate woman.
My heart thudded in my chest. I had crossed every line already — lied to my husband, misused party funds, travelled alone with a stranger. What was one more step, if it brought me the power I had dreamed of?
I swallowed hard.
"If this is what it takes to become who I was meant to be..." I whispered.
He led me to the bed laid with saffron sheets, murmuring prayers and praises as he touched my hands, my face, his voice painting me not as a woman, but a goddess. I had never felt more objectified, yet never more dangerously close to what I thought was control.
The Swamiji’s gaze locked onto mine, dark and unwavering. His voice softened but carried an undeniable weight, “Sudha, we must enjoy ourselves — fully, deeply. Only then will the Device awaken its power.”
I swallowed hard, my breath catching. “And if I refuse?”
His lips curled into a faint, almost cruel smile. “Then everything you’ve sacrificed... everything you’ve built, will slip away. Your Ward Councillor seat, your dreams of becoming MLA — all gone. You’ll be left with nothing.”
The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, but his eyes held only certainty. My body trembled—not from desire, but from the terrifying gravity of the choice before me.
“I don’t want to lose everything,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Then trust me. Let me share this moment with you.”
My heart pounded wildly as I nodded, lips barely moving, “I agree.”
Inside, a fierce storm raged — shame battling hunger, fear tangled with desperate hope. As he reached for me, I knew there 
was no turning back.
The Swamiji’s voice dropped to a soft, coaxing whisper as he held me close, his hands steady yet gentle.
“Sudha, close your eyes. Imagine… I am your husband. The one who loves you, who has always desired you. Let yourself feel his touch, his kisses. Let me enjoy making love to you, just as he would.”
My breath hitched, heart pounding with hesitation and a flicker of forbidden hope.
“And now,” he continued, “imagine you are my wife — my beloved. Let yourself enjoy this moment, let your body remember what pleasure truly is.”
I trembled, torn between shame and a strange warmth growing inside me.
He pulled me closer, and began kissing my lips with a slow, lingering kiss. The world around me faded. For a fleeting second, it was as if it was my husband’s lips pressing softly against mine, the softness I longed for, the tenderness I craved.
A heat stirred deep within, a forbidden desire awakening as I found myself melting into the kiss, my body responding despite my mind screaming no.
I was lost in the fantasy — his hands tracing, his breath warm on my skin — and slowly, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.
The Swamiji’s embrace tightened, and with each kiss, my resistance weakened until all that remained was the raw hunger pulsing through me.
As Swamiji began kissing my lips passionately, a slow, electric heat spread through me. My body betrayed my hesitation—my breath grew shallow, and I felt a growing warmth pooling between my thighs.
I became painfully aware of how wet my panties were getting, a silent confession of desire I couldn’t control. My fingers trembled as they clutched at his shoulders, caught between shame and a strange, undeniable craving.
Even as my mind screamed that this was wrong, my body answered differently—aching, yearning, alive.
The scent of sandalwood and sweat filled the air, mixing with the pounding of my heart, drowning out all doubts.
In that moment, I wasn’t just Sudha, the ambitious councillor or the wife—I was a woman lost in the intoxicating fog of forbidden passion.
The Swamiji’s fingers traced slow, deliberate lines along the edge of my saree, his touch both possessive and reverent. I felt the silk loosen as he gently pulled it down, revealing the familiar curve of my waist, the crisp white blouse clinging to my body, and the soft fabric of my petticoat wrapped around my hips.
His arms encircled me, steady and warm, pulling me close against him. For a heartbeat, my breath caught — the scent of his skin mixed with the faint fragrance of sandalwood that clung to his robes. The heat from his body seeped into mine, thawing my nerves and igniting a fire I hadn’t expected to feel.
I hesitated, caught between resistance and desire, but my hands moved of their own accord, wrapping around his back, clutching the rough fabric of his robe. His lips brushed against my neck, a slow, tantalizing kiss that sent shivers down my spine.
A delicious warmth pooled low in my belly, and I felt it—the unmistakable wetness spreading, dampening the thin cotton of my White Panties. My body betrayed me, betraying my careful mind with its hungry response to his touch.
Even as guilt gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, I couldn’t deny the growing need, the way his embrace made me forget everything else — the politics, the power struggles, even my own fears.

[novelistcasanova]

In that moment, only the heat between us mattered.

The Swamiji’s fingers trembled slightly as they reached behind me, fingers expertly finding the tiny hooks of my white blouse. Each hook released with a soft click, the fabric slipping slowly off my shoulders. The cool air kissed my bare skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes never left my exposed skin, darkening with a hunger that both scared and intrigued me.
When my white bra came into full view, delicate lace hugging my curves, the Swamiji’s breath hitched just slightly. “Sudha,” he murmured, voice thick and low, “your breasts are exquisite... round, firm, and flawless, like a sculptor’s masterpiece.”
His words, so intimate and unexpected, made my cheeks burn with a flush I couldn’t hide. Beneath that heat, a tender warmth bloomed—his admiration igniting a secret flame within me. I found myself arching slightly toward him, craving the connection his eyes promised.
Despite the warnings pounding in my mind, my body betrayed me. My heart raced, my breath hitched, and a delicate thrill whispered through my nerves. I let myself linger in that moment, soaking in his gaze, the reverence in his tone, and the unspoken promise of his touch.
For a brief, suspended moment, I was no longer Sudha, the Ward Councillor struggling to hold her dignity. I was simply a woman, desired and worshipped, surrendering to sensations I had never allowed myself to feel before.
I stood there, only in my white bra and the soft fabric of my white petticoat clinging to me. The flickering candlelight painted shadows across my skin, making me feel both vulnerable and alive.
The Swamiji’s gaze was intense as his hands reached out slowly toward the knot of my petticoat. My breath hitched, and my heart pounded loud enough to drown out everything else.
“Sudha,” he murmured softly, his voice low and coaxing, “to awaken the device, you must let go completely. Trust me. Let me help you.”
I swallowed hard, my mind a whirlwind of fear and desire. “I… I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, voice trembling. “What if someone finds out? What about my husband? My sons?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm and overpowering. “No one will know. This moment is ours. You are not betraying anyone. You are embracing your power, your destiny.”
I closed my eyes, fighting the storm within. “But… it feels wrong. I’m supposed to be strong, dignified.”
“Sometimes, to become truly strong, we must surrender. To feel, to live, to breathe beyond boundaries.”
His fingers gently traced the knot of my petticoat again. “Let me in, Sudha. Let me help you bloom.”
My hands trembled, torn between holding on and letting go. Finally, my voice was barely a breath. “Alright… I’ll trust you.”
His hands moved with reverence, slowly untying the knot. The fabric slipped free, and a shiver ran down my spine—part fear, part awakening.
Before I could fully process it, the Swamiji’s hands were beneath me, lifting me effortlessly. The strength in his arms was undeniable, yet his touch was gentle, reverent—like he was carrying something fragile and precious. My breath hitched as I felt myself suspended between his chest and the cool air around us.
My White Bra and White Panties clung to my skin, leaving me exposed and vulnerable, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation and fear. The warmth of his body against mine sent a shiver down my spine, a confusing cocktail of emotions swirling within me.
He carried me toward the bed with steady steps, the soft rustle of the sheets greeting us. When he finally laid me down, the mattress dipped slightly beneath my weight, and the softness contrasted with the heat rising inside me.
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense, and his voice was a low whisper filled with promise, “You’re safe here, Sudha. Let yourself breathe, let yourself feel.”
The flickering candlelight painted shadows across his face and the curves of my body, turning the room into a private world where hesitation and doubt began to fade. My pulse quickened as I realized I was no longer just a woman caught in a political storm—I was a woman awakening to desires she hadn’t dared to admit.
The Swamiji began to unbutton his kurta slowly, his deliberate movements making my heart pound louder in my chest. Each piece of fabric he shed seemed to strip away the last layers of my resistance. I watched through half-closed eyes as his bare skin was revealed under the soft glow of the candles.
A nervous flutter stirred in my stomach. I closed my eyes tightly, as if shutting out the sight could somehow shield me from the reality of what was about to happen. My breath hitched, caught between fear and a reluctant curiosity I couldn’t quite name.
The scent of sandalwood and musk from his skin filled the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of jasmine from my own hair. His presence was overwhelming, a heavy weight pressing against the fragile calm I was trying to hold onto.
Though my mind screamed hesitation, my body betrayed me, responding in ways I hadn’t expected. The warmth of his gaze, the quiet strength in his movements—it all pulled me deeper into a whirlpool of sensations I wasn’t prepared for.
The Swamiji’s fingers found the edge of my white panties, the delicate elastic stretched taut beneath his touch. Slowly, deliberately, he began to pull them down, inch by inch, revealing my clean shaved pussy glittering with my juices, exposing the soft, warm skin beneath. The cool air of the room kissed my bare thighs, sending a shiver through me.
My breath hitched, and instinctively, my hands shot up to cover myself — trembling, hesitant, trying to guard the most vulnerable part of me. My heart thundered in my chest, caught between the rush of fear and an aching, unfamiliar longing.
“Sudha,” the Swamiji’s voice was gentle, a low whisper that seemed to crawl along my skin, “there’s no shame in this. Only surrender, only trust. You are safe with me.”
I swallowed hard, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I fought the wave of nervousness and shame that threatened to pull me under. “I… I don’t know if I can,” I murmured, voice barely audible, voice trembling.
He leaned closer, brushing a soft kiss along my temple. “Let go, Sudha. Let yourself feel, not think. You deserve to be loved and desired.”
His words stirred something deep inside me — a secret yearning to be seen, to be wanted. Slowly, hesitantly, I lowered my hands just a little, the heat pooling between my thighs growing stronger.
“Will you stay with me?” I whispered, eyes still closed, voice thick with need and doubt.
“Always,” he promised, his breath warm against my cheek, fingers continuing their slow, reverent exploration.
The Swamiji’s hands moved slowly, deliberately, parting my thighs with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. His fingers traced the delicate skin just above, sending gentle sparks of heat through me. As he lowered his face, the soft glow of the candlelight flickered across his eyes—dark, intense, filled with something between reverence and hunger.
His warm breath whispered against my clean shaved pussy, sending shivers along my spine. “Sudha,” he murmured, voice low and husky, “your pussy so clean, Sudha… it’s breathtaking. So soft, so sacred. You’ve cared for this part of yourself with such devotion.”
I felt my cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and a strange thrill. “I… I always believed in keeping myself clean, honored,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He smiled against my pussy lips, his lips barely grazing me. “It’s more than that. It’s a temple, a place deserving worship. And I’m here to honor you.”
His tongue flicked out gently, teasing, tasting my Pussy, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I beagn to moan as the sensation was electric, a delicious mix of vulnerability and awakening that made my heart race. My body betrayed me, every nerve alive, every breath shallow.

[novelistcasanova]

“Do you feel this, Sudha?” he asked softly, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “How your body responds? You’re beautiful, made to feel pleasure.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a breath. “Yes… but I’m scared. I don’t want to lose myself in this.”
His hand cupped my Ass Cheeks tenderly. “You won’t lose yourself. You’ll find new parts of you—parts that deserve love, passion, and respect. Trust me.”
As his mouth traced soft kisses along my folds, the tension in me melted. I surrendered to the warmth, the reverence, the forbidden desire blossoming inside.
His hands slid gently but with purpose beneath the hem of my White Bra, fingers tracing the curves of my body as if memorizing every inch. Slowly, deliberately, the Swamiji’s hands found the clasp of my white bra, his touch warm and steady.
“Let me see you fully, Sudha,” he whispered, his voice low and full of a strange reverence. “Every part of you is beautiful, worthy of honor.”
A shiver ran through me as his fingers worked the hooks loose one by one, the soft click of the clasps breaking the fragile barrier between us. The fabric slipped away, revealing the delicate lace and smooth skin beneath.
“My God!  What an amazing pair of Boobs you have got, Sudha….. I’ve never seen you like this,” he breathed, eyes darkening with desire as they roamed over my exposed breasts. “So pure… so tempting.”
Heat blossomed in my cheeks, but inside, a secret warmth spread. I felt exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely empowered by his intense admiration.
“I… I’m scared,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
His hand cupped one breast gently, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. “There’s nothing to fear here. Just trust. Trust yourself. Trust me.”
My breath caught, my heart pounding as I felt his touch, so tender yet claiming. The world around me faded, leaving only this charged, intimate moment.
His fingers traced delicate circles around my breasts, sending waves of heat rippling through me. The softness of his touch was almost maddening, and I found myself leaning into him, craving more even as my mind screamed caution.
“Sudha,” he murmured close to my ear, his breath warm and intoxicating, “you are more beautiful than any goddess. Your body, your spirit—they belong to no one but you.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. The Swamiji’s words, laced with desire and reverence, wrapped around me like a silken thread, pulling me deeper into this forbidden embrace.
He lowered his lips to the tender curve of my neck, planting slow, lingering kisses that sent shivers down my spine. My hands trembled as they slid to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat.
“I want you to feel alive, Sudha,” he whispered, his voice a hypnotic caress. “To remember that you deserve pleasure and power—together.”
Every word was a temptation, every touch an invitation. Despite the guilt knotting inside me, my body betrayed me, responding with a warmth and hunger I hadn’t dared to acknowledge before.
As Swamiji began inserting his erect cock inside my Pussy, warmth spread through my body like wildfire. He settled on top of me, his weight grounding me yet making my heart race. His arms circled my waist, pulling me closer until I felt his breath brush against my ear.
“Sudha,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with feeling, “you’re mine now. Let go of all your fears. Trust me.”
I trembled beneath him, my hands resting lightly on his broad shoulders. “I… I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He kissed my neck, slow and lingering, sending shivers down my spine. “You can. You already are.”
The sensation of his body moving in sync with mine was overwhelming. I felt vulnerable, exposed, yet safe in his hold. My doubts battled with my desires, but his presence soothed the turmoil inside.


As Swamiji began making love to me passionately, “mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm,” as I was moaning, “Do you feel it, Sudha?” he asked, voice husky. “This connection—stronger than politics, stronger than ambition?”
I nodded, tears prickling my eyes, “Yes… It’s confusing… but I can’t deny it.”
He smiled against my skin, “Then surrender, my Sudha. Not just to me, but to yourself.”
I exhaled slowly, releasing the tension I didn’t realize I was holding.  Sleeping on top of me and hugging me tight with my arms around is neck, as he began kissing my lips passionately, this time I began kissing his lips back passionately.  I let go — allowing my body and soul to bloom in the warmth of his touch.
His weight pressed gently but firmly as he moved with steady rhythm, every touch awakening parts of me I had kept locked away. His hands roamed my back, sending sparks of fire along my spine.
“Sudha,” he whispered close to my lips, “I want you to feel everything — the power you’ve been denied, the passion you’ve buried.”
I shivered, heart pounding wildly. “I’m scared,” I confessed, my voice trembling. “This isn’t just about me anymore. It feels like… crossing a line.”
His hands cupped my face gently, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “There’s no rush. Just trust me. Listen to your body, to what you feel. When the wave rises, let it carry you.”
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath me. Slowly, the tension inside me unwound, replaced by a slow-burning heat.
“Sudha,” he murmured, “Let go. Let yourself be free with me.” as he whispered and began kissing my lips passionately, I began to get more and more horny and excited and completely ignoring the taste of his lips, I began kissing his lips passionately. 
And in that fragile, suspended moment, I felt the first tremors of release begin to build — an electric pulse that spread from deep inside, growing stronger, urging me to surrender completely.  I could feel a strong orgasm buildup build up already and I was about to cum at any moment.
The moment the Swamiji pulled me close, his arms locking around my waist with a possessive grip, his lips crashed onto mine, fierce and demanding. Our mouths moved together in a heated dance — his tongue exploring, tasting, claiming me with every breath.
“I want you, Sudha… right now,” he whispered against my lips, his voice thick with desire.
I gasped softly, my body melting into his embrace, feeling the hard press of him against me. His hands roamed my back, sending shivers down my spine.  “Mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmm,” as I was moaning enjoying the way Swamiji was making love to me, and I was about to cum at any moment. 
Then, with a deep, guttural moan, I felt him thrust inside me, filling me completely. The sensation was overwhelming — raw, intimate, and utterly consuming.
“Mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmm,” as I was moaning, “Tell me when you’re coming,” he murmured into my ear, his breath hot and ragged.
I clenched around him instinctively, every nerve alight with pleasure. My breath hitched, heart pounding wildly.  “I am gonna cum …. I am gonna cum mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmm mmmm,” as I began moaning, the moment Swamiji took me into his complete embrace, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” as he moaned and his body tensed and with a shuddering groan, thrust his cock deep inside my pussy and began cumming deep inside my Pussy, a sudden wave of heat burst through me, and I cried out softly as pleasure overtook every inch of my being. My body quivered uncontrollably, and hugging him tight, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I moaned and began cumming all over his cock , trembling and wet, spilling myself all over him.
He held me tighter, whispering my name like a prayer, and I felt both lost and found in his arms — utterly surrendered to the moment, to him.
As we lay tangled together, the heat of his body pressed against mine, every breath shared between us seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. His hands traced slow, reverent circles on my back, grounding me even as my mind swirled with conflicting emotions.
“I never thought I’d feel like this again,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Like I’m more than just a shadow in someone’s life.”
He kissed the curve of my neck, his lips warm and soft. “You’re not a shadow, Sudha. You’re fire — burning bright, and I’m here to stoke the flames.”
My heart raced, and despite the guilt that gnawed at my conscience, I couldn’t deny the fierce spark that his words ignited within me. The shame tangled with desire, confusion with need, but in his arms, for this moment, I was just a woman who was seen, wanted, alive.
He pulled me closer again, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “We’ll find a way through this darkness. Together.”
The weight of those words settled over me like a promise — fragile, but real.
For a moment, we simply held each other, the rhythm of our breathing slowly syncing, the aftershocks of our union still rippling through my body. His arms wrapped around me tightly, anchoring me to the moment, to him — even as a silent storm of emotions churned inside me.
“I never thought…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never thought it could feel like this.”
His fingers traced soft circles on my back, gentle and grounding. “Sometimes, what we need most is not what we expect, Sudha,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.
A shiver ran down my spine — was it pleasure, guilt, or something deeper? I wasn’t sure anymore. All I knew was that in this dark, candle-lit chamber, beneath his touch, I was both lost and found.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, searching, as if trying to read the tangled emotions there. “You don’t have to be afraid. Not with me.”
I closed my eyes, trying to steady the whirlwind inside. Part of me wanted to believe him, to surrender fully — but the other part clung to the last shreds of my dignity, my dreams.
“Will this… change everything?” I asked, voice trembling.
He smiled, a mixture of tenderness and something unspoken. “It already has.”
His breath warmed my cheek as he leaned in again, fingers weaving softly through my hair. “You’re more than this moment, Sudha. You are strength wrapped in vulnerability — and that makes you irresistible.”
I opened my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. The intensity there made my heart race, yet a strange calm settled over me. It was as if, for once, someone truly saw me — not just my ambitions or my flaws, but all the tangled pieces inside.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing everything... scared of what I’m becoming.”
He cupped my face gently. “Sometimes, to gain power, we must embrace the parts we hide away. You are not alone. I will be here, every step.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, but I didn’t wipe it away. Instead, I let it fall — a release, a surrender.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he kissed me again, softer this time, like a promise. And in that kiss, I found a flicker of hope amid the shadows.
As we slowly pulled apart, the room felt heavier, charged with a mix of vulnerability and something almost sacred. My breath was uneven, and a shiver ran down my spine — not just from the touch, but from the whirlwind inside me.
“I never imagined I’d feel like this,” I confessed, voice trembling. “Like I’m breaking free and breaking down all at once.”
He smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Sometimes, the path to power is paved with sacrifices we never expected. But you’re stronger than you know, Sudha.”
The silence between us was comfortable — an unspoken understanding that what had happened was more than just desire. It was a crossroads.
I clutched the bedsheet, heart pounding, mind racing with doubt and determination. Was this the price I had to pay? Could I still hold on to my dreams without losing myself?
Before I could answer, his hand found mine, squeezing gently. “Whatever comes, you won’t face it alone.”
That simple assurance gave me a flicker of courage. I closed my eyes and let myself believe — just for a moment — that maybe, somehow, I could survive this and still rise.

[novelistcasanova]

The next morning when I woke up, I sat on the edge of the cot, staring at the fading sandalwood tilak smeared across the mirror, left behind like a cruel joke. My reflection stared back — hollow-eyed, lips trembling, a woman unrecognizable even to herself.

He was gone.
No letter. No word. No device. No truth. Just an empty room and a deeper emptiness inside me.
One hundred crores. I had handed it over with trembling fingers, each rupee tied to my dreams. MLA dreams. Power dreams. A name that would echo in corridors, not merely kitchens. But he had taken it — and something more precious. My belief. My innocence in the power of faith. My very will.
How did I not see it? The practiced eyes. The perfectly rehearsed mantras. The way he touched his rudraksha beads — all ritual and no reverence. He knew what I wanted. And he fed it to me like slow poison — hope, respect, purpose.
I thought I was making a choice for a greater cause.
But I had been nothing more than a pawn in a con so vile, so carefully spun, that even my ambition seemed complicit.
He had spoken of energy. Of awakening. Of unlocking hidden power.
What he unlocked was my own self-hatred — the kind that festers when you realize you walked into your own ruin, willingly.
I wrapped my saree tighter around me, as if I could shield myself from the shame curling up from my stomach. But cloth couldn’t hide it. Dignity, once torn, doesn't stitch easily.
This wasn’t just betrayal of trust.
It was a betrayal of belief, of body, of identity.
I had trusted a mask.
And now, I would have to face the world — not as Sudha the powerful councillor, but Sudha the gullible fool.

[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.

[novelistcasanova]

A cold wave of reality washed over me. The meeting, the game of power, the dangerous promises... all waiting outside this fragile bubble of desire.

Raghav noticed the hesitation, his breath still warm on my skin. “Who is it?” he asked, voice low but possessive.
“Just… someone from the party,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual, but my heart was pounding.
He caught the change instantly, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Sudha, please… forget all that for now. You’re here with me.”
I looked up into his desperate eyes. “Raghav, I have responsibilities. You know what’s at stake.”
He shook his head, voice thick with need. “I don’t care about your responsibilities. I care about you.”
I hesitated, torn between duty and desire, feeling the heat in his touch, the pull of his longing.
The phone buzzed again, a sharp reminder of the outside world. I glanced at it, then at Raghav’s face—his hunger, his vulnerability.
With a shaky breath, I whispered, “Just a moment… I have to take this.”
He groaned softly, but released me gently, stepping back. “Go ahead. But come back to me.”
I answered, voice trembling slightly, “Hello?”
The Party Leader’s voice was smooth, urgent. “Sudha, we need to talk. Now.”
I swallowed hard, the seductive warmth between me and Raghav replaced by cold urgency.
Raghav’s gaze didn’t leave me, his hands still lingering on my arms. “Whatever happens, remember… I want you.”
As I took my phone towards the window and started to answer the Party Leader’s call, the line crackled softly as I heard his voice—smooth, low, and heavy with desire.
“Sudha…” he breathed, the hunger unmistakable. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for hours in my office.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I… got held up. It’s been a long day.”
His laugh was dark and teasing. “Long day, hmm? Or something else keeping you away?”
“I’m coming soon,” I whispered, trying to steady my voice.
“Good,” he said, voice dropping even lower, thick with craving. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you—your curves, that fire in your eyes… I’m burning up here, Sudha. I want to see you, touch you, taste you.”
I closed my eyes, imagining him pacing impatiently, his lust as raw as the heat rising inside me.
“Tell me,” he urged, “what are you wearing right now? Are you thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you?”
My breath hitched. “I’m… dressed for you,” I said, voice trembling. “Waiting for you to take me.”
A low growl came through the line. “Soon, then. You don’t know how badly I want you—how much I need you right now.”
I bit my lip, trying to keep my composure. “I’ll be there. Just a little longer.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Sudha,” he warned, voice thick with promise. “I’m ready to make you mine.”
The line went silent except for the pounding of my heart.
The Party Leader’s voice dropped even lower, heavy with desire.
“What are you wearing right now, Sudha? Tell me. I want to picture you in my mind.”
My cheeks flushed, heat spreading through me as I bit my lip.
“I’m wearing the white saree… the one with our party’s red and black border,” I whispered, “but it’s dbangd low, just below my navel.”
There was a pause, then he breathed out, “God, that image… You must look irresistible. What about underneath? Tell me, Sudha…”
I hesitated, heart racing. “I’m wearing my new black bra and matching panties.”
“Black,” he growled, “always the most tempting color.”
“I want you to see me like this,” I said, my voice soft and inviting. “I am coming for you…”
His breath hitched on the other side. “Soon, Sudha.”
Party Leader’s voice thick with longing:
“Sudha, tell me how your black bra feels against your skin. Is it soft? Lacy? Does it hold your breasts perfectly, or do they spill out just a little?”
I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth rise in my cheeks.
“It’s smooth, like silk, and just tight enough to make me feel… alive. Sometimes I catch myself touching it, reminding myself what’s underneath.”
His low chuckle made my pulse quicken.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you? You want me to imagine sliding my hands beneath that blouse, feeling your skin…”
“I want you to,” I whispered, “to picture me slowly lifting the saree, the curves of my hips, the soft skin of my stomach…”
“Sudha,” he said, voice husky, “I can almost feel you leaning into me. I want to taste every inch.”
I bit my lip, a shiver running down my spine.
“I am coming there.” I said.
Party Leader’s voice hummed through the phone, thick with desire.
“Sudha, tell me again—what are you wearing right now? I want to imagine it all.”
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath as heat pooled deep inside me.
“My black bra… soft and smooth. The fabric presses against my skin, hugging me tight. Underneath, my black panties cling just so, a secret only you and I know.”
His low chuckle sent shivers down my spine.
“You’re playing with fire, my dear. I was waiting for you—why haven’t you come to meet me yet?”
I bit my lip, trying to hide the racing of my heart.
“I was on my way… I just got held up. But soon, I’ll be with you. I can’t wait to see you, to feel you.”
His voice dropped even lower, thick with promise.
“Soon, Sudha. When you arrive, I’ll make sure it’s a moment neither of us will forget.”
A flush crept over my cheeks. Was this wrong? My husband’s arms just inches away, and yet my mind wandered into a dangerous place — to the Party Leader’s hungry eyes, his eager hands. I felt a thrill of guilt mix with something darker, something I craved.
“I’m coming for you,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, “I need you.”
As the call ended, I felt the heavy weight of my double life — the respectable councillor by day, the woman burning with secrets inside.
Could I really have it all?
The soft hum of the ceiling fan mixed with the quiet tension in the room. My husband’s eyes locked onto mine, a desperate plea hidden beneath the hunger in his gaze.
“Please, Sudha… stay with me,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent as he reached out to pull me closer.
I felt the warmth of his hands on my waist, the familiar scent of his skin mingling with the lingering fragrance I had worn for the evening. His touch was a tether, tempting me to surrender, to forget the world outside these walls.
But my mind was already racing ahead — to the meeting I couldn’t miss, to the Party Leader waiting for me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, slipping gently from his grasp. “The Municipal Corporation meeting is important. I can’t afford to miss it. You know how much this means to me.”
He frowned, frustration flashing in his eyes. “I understand your work, but I miss you. Just for one time…”
I placed a soft finger on his lips, silencing him. “This is bigger than us, love. I need to do this — for our future, for the boys, for myself.”
His arms fell slowly, reluctantly, and I kissed his forehead before stepping toward the door.
“I’ll be back soon. Promise.”
As I stepped out into the cool night air, the scent of jasmine clung to me, mingling with my racing heartbeat — a reminder that the night was still young, and my path was still unfolding.
The car’s engine hummed softly as I settled into the driver’s seat, the leather cool beneath my fingers. The city lights blurred past, but my mind was elsewhere — caught in the swirl of desire, duty, and dreams.
My fingers traced absent patterns on the steering wheel, remembering the warmth of my husband’s hands, the softness of his whispered pleas. Yet beneath the longing, a fierce flame burned inside me — a hunger not just for love, but for power, for respect, for a place where my voice could not be ignored.
The night air filtered through the slightly cracked window, carrying the scent of rain-damp earth and distant jasmine. It mingled with the faint trace of my perfume — subtle, intoxicating, meant for eyes that watched with more than just political interest.
I thought of the Party Leader’s voice on the phone, low and hungry. How he imagined me — dbangd in white and black, the saree slipping just below my navel, every curve a silent invitation. How his words had ignited something deep inside me, a dangerous mix of fear and longing.
My pulse quickened at the memory. Was it wrong to want this? To want him? To want to feel desired beyond the cold, pragmatic gaze of my husband, beyond the tired routine of meetings and promises?
The city rushed by, but inside me, time slowed. Each turn of the wheel was a step closer to the unknown — to a night where ambition and seduction would collide, where I would walk the fine line between surrender and control.
I whispered to myself, barely audible over the engine’s steady drone, “Tonight, I’ll take what I deserve.”
And with that, I pressed the accelerator, chasing a destiny wrapped in silk and shadows.
I reached the Party Leader’s office sharp at nine in the morning, the early sun casting long shadows across the bustling political headquarters. The polished glass doors reflected my image—a woman dbangd in white with the red and black border, her saree falling just below her navel, heels clicking confidently on the marble floor.
But as I stepped inside, I immediately sensed the room’s tense energy. The Party Leader was deep in discussion with a group of stern-faced MLAs, voices low but urgent. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, then back to the men.
Without missing a beat, he nodded toward a vacant chair among the circle. “Sudha, come in and join us. We need you here.”
My pulse quickened—not from nerves, but from the electric mix of power and desire coursing through me. To be included, to sit among the city’s power players, was exactly the taste of respect I craved.
I crossed the room with measured grace, every step deliberate. The fabric of my saree brushed softly against my legs, the thin white blouse clinging gently over my black bra beneath, a secret thrill I carried beneath my composed exterior.
Taking my seat, I caught the briefest glance from the Party Leader—his eyes darkened with something that felt equal parts admiration and something more personal.
The room’s chatter continued, but in that moment, I was no longer just a councillor’s wife or a hopeful politician. I was a woman on the edge of her destiny, a flame burning quietly but fiercely beneath the surface.
The meeting carried on, voices steady and serious as an MLA stood by the projector, outlining new plans for the city’s development. Charts and figures flickered on the screen, everyone’s attention fixed on the details, their faces a mix of concentration and calculation.
I sat poised, nodding thoughtfully here and there, but beneath my calm exterior, a small spark of excitement kindled.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated softly in my saree pallu. I glanced down discreetly, my heart skipping a beat as I saw the message lighting up the screen — it was from the Party Leader.
“Can’t wait to see you alone after the meeting. That black bra looks dangerous. You’re driving me wild even from here.”
A faint, mischievous smile curved my lips. The message was both a tease and a promise, a reminder of the secret tension simmering beneath this formal gathering.
I slid my phone back, my fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary, feeling a delicious shiver course through me.
Around me, the MLAs continued discussing budgets and schemes, unaware of the electric undercurrent pulsing quietly between two people who held power—and desire—in equal measure.

[novelistcasanova]

I glanced around, making sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a slow, deliberate touch, I gently pulled the edge of my saree blouse sleeve just enough to reveal a sliver of my black bra strap resting against my smooth shoulder.

My fingers lingered there as I typed back, my heart fluttering with a secret thrill:
“If my black bra is dangerous, imagine what else I’m hiding… Waiting for you to find out.”
I hit send and allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. The forbidden game had begun — right here in the middle of the meeting room, where every glance and gesture was laced with quiet seduction.
His message popped up on my phone screen, sending a delicious chill through me:
"Those lips of yours, Sudha… I keep imagining them pressed against mine, soft, warm, and hungry. Tell me, are they thinking of me too?"
My breath caught. Just the thought made my heart race and cheeks flush.
I typed back slowly, savoring each word:
"My lips? Maybe they’ve been naughty today, slipping smiles your way when no one’s watching… but you’ll have to come closer to find out if they really want you."
A small thrill danced through me as I sent the message, imagining how his eyes would darken reading it.
His reply came almost instantly, words dripping with desire:
"Naughty lips like yours are dangerous, Sudha. I’m aching to taste every inch, to feel them tremble beneath mine. Just imagining your smile makes my pulse race."
I felt heat flood my cheeks as I read his message. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed back:
"If only you were here… I’d show you just how much my lips want you — with every kiss, every sigh."
The phone buzzed again:
"Soon, my Sudha. Soon, after the meeting, I’ll have you all to myself. Until then, keep teasing me — your every word is like a flame I can’t resist."
I swallowed hard, the room around me fading away for a moment as I imagined his hands, his lips, the hunger in his eyes.
His message arrived almost instantly, bold and teasing:
"Tell me, Sudha… are you wearing those black panties I love right now?"
I felt heat rush to my cheeks but couldn’t resist replying:
"Yes… soft, delicate, and just for you. They cling to me like a secret only you’re allowed to know."
A moment later, his response blinked on the screen:
"That thought alone has me imagining you right here, right now… the way those panties hug your curves, tempting me to pull them off."
I bit my lip, fingers trembling slightly as I typed back:
"If only you were here… maybe I’d let you find out just how wet I am."
His reply was immediate, low and hungry:
"Sudha, you have no idea how badly I want you."
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart pounding, as I typed back slowly:
"You’re making it impossible to focus on this meeting... but maybe that’s the point."
He didn’t miss a beat:
"Good. Because I want you distracted — thinking only of me. Tell me, Sudha, what would you do if I were there, right beside you?"
I smiled to myself, the thrill electric through my veins.
"I’d press myself against you, let my hands explore every inch, and whisper all the things I’ve been too afraid to say."
His reply came fast and hot:
"I want to hear every one of those whispers. Soon, Sudha. Soon."
I glanced around the room, careful no one noticed the flush rising to my cheeks.
"Until then… you’ll just have to imagine."
The message buzzed on my phone, the words dripping with desire:
"Sudha, stand up and walk slowly to the corner of the room. I want to see you — every graceful step, every curve."
My pulse quickened, but I dared not resist. Slipping my phone into my purse, I rose, heart pounding as I moved with deliberate slowness. The black bra strap peeked teasingly from beneath my white blouse, the soft sway of my hips undeniable.
I caught his gaze flickering from the corner of the room — hungry, eager — and I felt a flush of power in the knowing. My steps were measured but sensual, each movement a silent promise only he could read.
A quick text buzzed again:
"Perfect, Sudha. You’re driving me wild already. Keep moving, don’t stop."
I smiled to myself, enjoying this dangerous game — the thrill of being seen, desired, and in control all at once.
As I moved toward the corner, the cool fabric of my saree brushing softly against my skin, I caught sight of one of the MLAs sitting nearby. His eyes weren’t on the speaker or the papers in front of him — they were fixed on the delicate curve of my navel, just visible where my saree was dbangd low, below my waist.
A flicker of heat surged through me. I felt the weight of his gaze like a touch, igniting a secret thrill. His eyes traced the outline of my bare skin, daring and hungry, and I realized how much power I held in this moment — both as a woman and as a politician.
My breath hitched slightly. The room was filled with serious faces and hushed discussions, but here I was, the center of a silent, electric storm. I let my eyes meet his for a brief second — a bold, teasing glance — before turning away, letting my saree sway sensuously as I settled back into my seat.
A small smile played at my lips. The game had just begun.
Ignoring the MLA’s lingering gaze, I pulled out my phone beneath the conference table, my fingers trembling slightly with excitement. My thoughts were nowhere near the dry discussions unfolding around me — instead, they drifted to the Party Leader, to his hungry eyes, and the promise of what awaited.
I typed slowly, deliberately:
“My black panties… they’re soaked, just thinking about you.”
A brief pause. Then, his reply buzzed almost instantly:
“You’re driving me insane, Sudha. Tell me everything — how wet are you? Can you feel me?”
I smiled to myself, my cheeks flushing as I replied:
“So wet... I can barely keep still. Every thought of you is like fire.”
The thrill of this secret conversation beneath the eyes of so many added to the delicious tension. My saree clung softly to my hips, but beneath, I was aflame — a woman playing with power in every sense.
His message came almost instantly, low and urgent:
“I want you to stand up and slowly walk to the corner of the room, Sudha. Let me see you—let me watch every curve, every move.”
My breath hitched, the thrill of being watched sending shivers down my spine. Glancing discreetly around, I spotted the MLA still stealing glances at my navel, but I ignored him — my focus was elsewhere, tangled in desire and danger.
With a coy smile, I slowly stood, the soft rustle of my saree like a whispered promise. Every step to the corner was deliberate, sensual — the sway of my hips, the tease of my black bra strap peeking beneath the white blouse. My heart thundered in my chest as I texted him:
“Look closely. This is just for you.”
My fingers trembled slightly, but the fire burning inside me made every second worth the risk.
My phone vibrated fiercely, the screen lighting up with a message that seemed to pulse with need:
“Sudha, don’t wait till the meeting ends. Go now—immediately—to the adjacent office room. It’s empty. Wait for me there. Only your black bra and panties. No saree, no blouse. Just you.”
My breath caught. The command was sharp, desperate—urgent. His hunger for me spilled across the distance, reaching through the phone, igniting a thrill I couldn’t resist.
My fingers trembled slightly as I replied:
“I’m on my way. Just for you.”
A wave of heat surged through me as I slipped my saree from my shoulders, the fabric falling softly as I made my way to the empty room. Alone, exposed, vulnerable—and yet, intoxicatingly powerful.
The corridor was silent, the muted hum of distant voices fading as I neared the empty office room. My heart raced, each beat echoing the tension and thrill swirling inside me.
I closed the door behind me, the faint click a seal between the world outside and the secret I was about to live. Standing there, I felt the weight of my saree pulling gently against my skin. Slowly, deliberately, I slid the pleats down from my waist, feeling the cool air kiss the bare skin of my thighs as the fabric slipped away, and I removed my White Saree with Red and Black Party colour border and placed it on a chair.
Just the beginning, I whispered to myself, a shiver tracing a path along my spine.
With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned my White blouse, heart pounding as the first button gave way. The silky fabric loosened, revealing the familiar curve of my Black Bra beneath. I paused, my fingertips grazing the delicate strap, savoring the softness and the promise it held.
He will see every inch, every secret, I thought, my breath catching in my throat.
The blouse slipped off my shoulders like a whisper, pooling silently at my feet. Then, with a slow, almost reverent motion, I untied the knot of my white petticoat at the waist. The cool air brushed my skin again as it fell, leaving me standing in just my black bra and panties.
So exposed. So alive.
I ran a hand through my hair, steadying the wild flutter of nerves and excitement. The thought of him—waiting, watching, wanting—made my pulse race hotter than the summer sun.
Come soon, I murmured, my voice barely a breath, I’m yours.

[novelistcasanova]

The room was cool, almost too quiet except for the faint rustle of the city beyond the windows. I paced slowly, each step a deliberate dance of confidence and desire. My bare feet kissed the polished floor, and I could feel the heat gathering deep inside me, a secret fire that only he could ignite.

I glanced at my reflection in the glass—the black Bra hugging my curves, the slight shimmer of perspiration on my skin, the way my breasts lifted softly in the Black Bra. My lips parted slightly as I imagined his eyes drinking it all in, the hunger, the possession.
He wants me like this. Just like this, I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated against the desk. His name flashed on the screen, and my fingers trembled as I answered.
“Are you there?” His voice was thick with longing, a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.
“Yes,” I breathed, voice soft and teasing. “Waiting… only in my black bra and black panties, just like you asked.”
A sharp intake of breath on the other end. “God, Sudha, you don’t know how much I need you right now.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” I whispered, my voice dripping with promise. “Come soon, or I might not be able to hold back anymore.”
He laughed softly, a sound full of desire and urgency. “Hold tight, my dear. I’m on my way to claim you.”
My breath hitched as the line went dead, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the sweet ache of anticipation. I closed my eyes and sank onto the chair, letting the tension wash over me, knowing that soon, everything would change.
The soft click of the door startled me from my thoughts. My breath caught as he stepped inside — the Party Leader, tall and commanding, his eyes blazing with hunger as they drank in my bare skin cloaked only in black lace.
He closed the distance between us in slow, deliberate strides. “You look even more irresistible than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.
I shivered, the heat pooling between my thighs. “I waited for you, just like you wanted,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the delicate lace on my bra.
His hand reached out, fingertips grazing my exposed shoulder before sliding down my arm. “God, Sudha… the way you tease me drives me mad. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear. “Then don’t wait any longer,” I breathed, the warmth of his breath sending tingles across my skin.
As he began hugging me and began taking me into his complete embrace only in my Black Bra and Black Panties, he captured my mouth in a fierce kiss, hungry and possessive. His hands roamed my body — tracing the curve of my waist, slipping beneath the lace to caress the softness of my skin.
I gasped softly as he pulled me flush against him, feeling his hard length pressing insistently at my belly. “You’re mine,” he whispered against my lips. “No one else gets you.”
“I’m yours,” I promised, my voice trembling with need. “Take me.”
His hands slid lower, exploring the smooth expanse beneath my Black panties. I arched into his touch, every nerve alive, every desire laid bare.
“Such a beautiful woman,” he growled, his fingers deft and teasing. “Let me show you how much I want you.”
I moaned softly, surrendering completely as he guided me toward the desk, every inch of my body aflame with anticipation.
His hands slid from my hips to my back, pulling me closer, his breath warm against my lips. “Tell me, Sudha... do you really want this as much as I do?”
I closed my eyes, heart pounding wildly. Part of me screamed to stop, to run back to safety. But my body betrayed me — every nerve alive, craving more.
“I... I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m torn between who I should be... and who I want to be.”
He smiled softly, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Let go for just a moment. Forget the world outside, it’s just you and me.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I nodded almost imperceptibly.
As he began kissing my lips, this time deeper, more urgent. My hands tangled in his shirt as the tension between us exploded, a tempest of need and fear.
But even as the passion swept me away, a small voice inside whispered warnings. How far was I willing to go? What would I lose if I crossed that line?
For now, though, those thoughts faded beneath the rush of his touch, the heat of his body pressed against mine.
In his arms, I was not a politician, not a wife bound by duty — I was simply Sudha, a woman awakening to desire’s dangerous allure.
The moment I hesitated, he smiled, his eyes dark with desire and something softer — protectiveness, maybe. Without warning, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. I gasped, my breath catching as his strong hands pressed against my bare skin beneath the black lace of my bra.
“Sudha,” he murmured close to my ear, his voice thick with hunger, “you’re irresistible. Just like this… vulnerable, yet so powerful.”
My heart hammered wildly as he carried me toward the polished wooden table in the quiet office. The coolness of the surface sent a shiver through me as he gently settled me down, his hands trailing softly over my hips.
“Look at you,” he whispered, tracing the curve of my waist. “So daring, yet so delicate. It’s driving me crazy.”
I swallowed hard, heat blooming low in my belly. “I’m scared,” I confessed, voice barely above a breath. “But I can’t resist you.”
He cupped my cheek, thumbs brushing my trembling skin. “There’s nothing to fear here — only pleasure, it’s just us. No politics, no judgments. Only you and me.”
My lips parted in a shaky smile as his fingers traced lazy patterns across my stomach. “Promise me… you’ll be gentle?”
His grin was wicked, but his eyes were tender. “I promise. I want to savor every inch of you.”
A pulse of electricity sparked between us, and as his hands roamed and his breath warmed my neck, I surrendered to the moment — to the thrill of being seen, desired, and wanted completely.
He guided me gently to the edge of the polished table, his hands firm yet tender on my hips. My breath quickened as I sat down, the cool surface sending a shiver up my spine. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and smoldering with desire.
“Sit still, Sudha,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety. “I want to see every part of you.”
I nodded, heart pounding in my chest, the anticipation making my skin tingle. Slowly, his fingers traced the straps of my black bra, delicate lace that framed my curves like a secret promise. His touch was light, teasing—like a lover savoring the moment before a kiss.
“Such beautiful skin beneath,” he whispered, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over my collarbone. “I’ve been imagining this all day.”
With slow reverence, he slipped the straps off my shoulders, fingers grazing my skin as he moved. The clasp at my back was undone with gentle care, and the bra slipped down, unveiling the soft curves of my breasts bathed in morning light.  Removing my Black Bra completely off me and placing it next to me, as he looked at my naked boobs, he began licking his lips looking at my hard nipples.
I swallowed hard, feeling both exposed and desired, my cheeks flushed crimson. “You make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world,” I breathed.
As his hands cupped my Boobs tenderly, thumbs stroking slow circles are my nipples. “Because you are. Right now, there’s nothing else but you and me.”
I closed my eyes, leaning back slightly, savoring the warmth of his touch, the electric charge of his presence. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.
His smile was soft but hungry. “I won’t. This is only the beginning,” as he said and began sucking my Boobs, “mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I began to moan.
His hands slid from my breasts down to my waist, pulling me gently closer until my back pressed against his chest. The heat of his body seeped through me, igniting a fire I could no longer control.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Is it from me… or from wanting more?”
I bit my lower lip, voice trembling, “Maybe both. I’ve never felt this way… like I’m losing myself but also finding something I didn’t know I needed.”
He smiled, teeth grazing my skin softly as he spoke. “That’s what happens when desire takes hold. You surrender, and in that surrender, you find freedom.”
His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of my hips beneath the thin fabric of my black panties. I shivered again, caught between shame and craving.
“Tell me what you want, Sudha,” he whispered. “Don’t hold back.”
I hesitated, then met his gaze boldly. “I want you. I want to forget everything else… just be with you.”
His breath hitched in a small, delicious way. “Say it again. I want to hear it.”
“I want you,” I repeated, my voice firmer now, my body aching with need.
As he began grabbing my Black Panties and began pulling my Black Panties down, and lifted me slightly, his hands steady as he settled me fully naked on the table. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes dark with satisfaction. “Now, let me show you what that means.”
Spreading my legs as he began kissing my Pussy lips passionately, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm,” I moaned closing my eyes my eyes, surrendering to the sensation, feeling both vulnerable and powerful all at once.
“Tell me how you feel,” he urged, with my Pussy inside his mouth.
“I… I feel like I’m on fire,” I admitted, voice trembling. “Like every nerve ending is awake, waiting for you.”
He smiled against my Pussy, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”
As he continued enjoying himself eating my Pussy, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I began to moan as I was about to cum.
I trembled, his mouth feasting on my Pussy igniting a fire deep within me. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded softly.
He lifted his gaze, dark eyes locking with mine, filled with promise and need. “Never,” he vowed.
Giving a strong kiss on my Pussy, “Sudha,” he breathed, voice low and full of hunger, “you’re so beautiful… every part of you belongs to me now.”
I trembled, caught between shame and desire. “I want to be yours,” I whispered, the words tasting like a secret confession.
As he began taking his clothes off looking at my pussy licking my juices off his lips with his tongue, I closed my eyes.  As he began inserting his erect cock inside my pussy, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I began to moan.  As he slept on top of me and began hugging me tight with my arms around his neck and began taking me into his complete embrace and began kissing my neck passionately and began enjoying himself making love to me, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I began to moan, as I was equally enjoying myself.  “Mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmm ….. Do you like me, Sudha?” as he moaned, looking his my yes, and at the same time enjoying himself making love to me, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I continued moaning as his erect cock was exploring every corner of my Pussy walls, making me more and more horny and weak, and I could feel a strong orgasm build up already.      
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….. Do you like me cock,” as he moaned, “I love it!,” as I instantly said without my control, he started to get excited.  “Tell me again, Sudha, please,” as he whispered, and began taking his hands down under me and began grabbing my Ass Cheeks, “I love you cock,” as I whispered while holding his face and gave him a naughty, “mmmmmm…. I love you, Sudha,” as he exclaimed and began hugging me tight, wrapping my arms around his neck and completely crushing my Boobs against his chest.
Adjusting his cock inside my pussy, as he began sucking my boobs passionately and began digging his cock deeper and deeper inside my pussy, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I began to moan, as his cock was driving my Pussy crazy, and I was excited and I was about to cum.  Taking his mouth of my left Boobs, “I am gonna cum, Sudha …. I am gonna cum,” as he moaned and began sucking my right Booobs, “mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” I began to moan loud as I was about to cum, and the moment he took his right hand underneath me squeezing my left Ass Cheek, and insert his middle finger deep inside my Asshole and at the same time inserted his cock deep inside my pussy and came deep inside my pussy, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” I moaned loud and holding his face and kissing his lips nicely, I came all over his cock.
He was completely exhausted after he came inside me, and slowly fell asleep on top of me and since I was exhausted as well, I fell asleep as well.

[novelistcasanova]

In the Afternoon as I woke up, the sun slipped through the closed blinds of the room, throwing faint stripes of light across the floor.  Gently moving the Party Leader who was sleeping on top me me, as I tried to get off the table, the half asleep Party Leader caught my hand, and as I turned around and looked at him, “your Pussy was great, Sudha, I thoroughly enjoyed it,” as he said, I smiled at him.  “Let me take a shower,” I said, and he let me go.

As I began searching for a Towel all over the room, the Party leader's eyes were all over me, enjoying the way I was naked and searching for a Towel all over the room.  “You are an Angel Sudha!  Never seen a Woman as beautiful as you naked,” as he exclaimed, I started feeling proud of myself.
As he got off the Table, “the Towels are inside the Bathroom,” he said and began wearing her underwear.  “Thank you,” as I whispered and tried to go to the Bathroom, “no, THANK YOU,” he exclaimed and caught my hand.  Hugging me naked and taking me into his complete embrace, and feeling up my naked body against him, “thank you so much, Sudha.  I have been dreaming to enjoy you all these days,” he whispered and kissed my lips affectionately and sent me to the Bathroom.
After having a nice shower, as I stepped out of the bathroom, the scent of sandalwood soap clinging faintly to my skin. My reflection in the mirror didn’t feel like me — not the wife my husband once adored, not the woman who dreamed of serving the people. Just... someone caught in the storm of her own making.



The Party Leader stirred lazily on the sofa, stretching like a cat. His voice, low and confident, broke the silence.

“You’ll get your MLA seat, Sudha. I’ll make sure of it. You’ve earned it.”
I froze for a moment. The words, meant as a reward, felt like a chain tightening around my throat. My stomach churned—not from regret alone, but from the realization of how far I had come. How many lines I had crossed.
For a fleeting second, I thought of my husband’s eyes—how they once lit up when I spoke about my dreams, how they dimmed slowly as ambition took their place. I had said I wanted power for the people. But now I wasn’t sure who I really wanted it for.
I looked down at my hands. They were clean, washed. But something inside me felt stained.
“At what cost?” I whispered to myself.
He didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did, and simply chose not to answer.
As the Party Leader went inside the Bathroom, I wore my Black Panties over my clean shaved pussy, and wore my Black Bra over my Boobs, and wearing my White Petticoat over my Black Panties and wearing my White Blouse over my Black Bra, and wearing my White Saree with Party’s Red and Black Border, I got ready.
As I waited for the Party Leader, he came out of the Bathroom and put his clothes on.  As he called someone and told them to give the MLA seat to me, I was excited, and happy.
“Happy, Sudha?” as the Party Leader asked and stood in front of me, “yes,” I said in an emotional tone.  Holding my face and bring his lips close to me, “I am gonna call the Home Minister and get that Rice Pulling Scammer arrested, and make sure you get back your 100 Crores,” as he whispered and began kissing my lips, in the excitement that I was going to get back my 100 Crores, I started kissing Party Leader’s lips so passionately that I had never kissed my husband this passionately.
Breaking the kiss, “All the Best, Sudha!  You will become MLA in Three months.  Do good to the People of Tamil Nadu.  My blessings will always be with you,” as he said in a Leader’s tone, I started to have goosebumps already, “thank you, Sir,” as I said.  “Good Luck!” he said and sent me home.

[novelistcasanova]

Like the Party Leader promised he gave me the seat to contest in elections and with his help I won the Elections.  

I stood on the stage, my hand raised, repeating the oath that makes it official — I am now an MLA. The crowd cheers, cameras flash, but all I see is my family in the front row.
My husband stands tall, his eyes shining with pride. He believed in me when the world didn’t. Behind him, my three sons — once uncertain, now successful and self-assured — clap with genuine pride. They’ve become men I’m proud of, rich not just in money, but in purpose.
My journey hasn’t been easy. I lost everything — my dignity, my money, my peace. But I never lost my resolve.
Thanks to the Party Leader, who stood by me when no one else would, and with the help of the Home Minister, he brought the rice-pulling scammer to justice, I got it all back — my ₹100 crores, my reputation, and a future.
I owe it all to the Party Leader — not just my victory, but my rebirth. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.
As the applause grows louder, I smile — not just for the cameras, but for myself. I made it. Not just into politics, but into power, into respect. Into my own story.

The End

Regards
Novelist Casanova

[fuckandforget]

Very hot start

[novelistcasanova]

Very hot start

[1234hitman]

You are the best writer in this site no lag with excellent story and executing it big fan of u bro
Your stories are top notch and thank u for sharing here

[novelistcasanova]

You are the best writer in this site no lag with excellent story and executing it big fan of u bro
Your stories are top notch and thank u for sharing here

Thank you for the support ...

[novelistcasanova]

[Little finger]

Hi bro. Can we chat?

[novelistcasanova]

You are the best writer in this site no lag with excellent story and executing it big fan of u bro
Your stories are top notch and thank u for sharing here

Thank you for the Support ...