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Today, she was home, down with cold and sore throat. The day was peaceful with no worry about work and other matters. She decided nature would take its own course. She slept again. This did not interfere with her world of reveries. She lived in a world of dreams. It was a sweet pain amidst a made-up world of imagination. She imagined of a happy married life ahead in the future with the Prince Charming. She was lying in the bed wrapped in a blanket. She rested in bed on a cool morning while other girls were already at the school, college or at the fields to crop the poppy leaves.

She had created a fantasy, which kept her occupied for quite a while. Her time passed happily. Life was wonderful. She wore plain cotton dress and her legs were bare. There was however a sort of freshness in her that would blind an intruder. She was in her own world of dreams and fantasy.

Voices of the customers were now not heard any longer. That means it was noontime to rest. She was relaxing. The only noise she had heard since he had awakened her was of drizzling rain and rain drops falling on the roof. The atmosphere was damp and lovely. The street was also empty with the noon oncoming fast. People were getting ready for a siesta, their nap after meals. Her room was as dim as can be on an early rainy afternoon. The atmosphere was romantic. There was enough time. The place was safe. She was there all, alone, longing for company. Some one with a will had just to walk in. Mother's prized treasure was lying unguarded. Anybody could have it. Faint hearts can not win a fairy. Rogues can do it. They have been doing it. She shuddered at such a wild thought. In her subconscious mind she was aware of such a possibility. Yes, may be, She had stayed home to make such a possibility a reality.

She heard him roll down the shutter of the shop. She could hear his footsteps making movements in the kitchen and the lobby. Her ears were riveted to the floor below anticipating his movements. He had crossed the lobby. He was now climbing steps of the stairs. It was a quiet afternoon on a rainy day. Her heart began to pound. She felt panicky. All sorts of doubts came to her mind. She heard his boots hit the floor steps of the stairs causing an odd mournful echo in the silent place.

Now his face was seen as he completed climbing the steps. He had turned and advanced, marching awkwardly towards her carrying in his one hand a pail of Eucalyptus rub-oil, and a mug of Tea in the other. He had big plans for a big game on this auspicious day. He seemed to have done his homework well. He made a half smile at her, muttered a warm greeting. He was little out of breath. She did not respond. She had not reconciled from her doubts about him. She adjusted her blanket around her. Her sixth sense warned her. She saw in his eyes, a flash of something sinister. Danger was coming.

A sigh escaped her lips. She was too confused to do anything. She took a deep breath, maddened by her own stupidity. What was the point of sitting here and fabricating such wild thoughts out of the mind when there was a possible invasion? No. No. No.! It can't be.

Again the fears came back. She widened her eyes and sat up from the bed impatiently as if to run away. She felt.
This can not be hallucination. She recollected some proverb.
She: "Coming events cast their shadows before,"
She repented for staying home and not going to college. It was her fault. She was like a lamb sent to the slaughter. The lamb always died. It is a tragedy. Many a time she imagined the lamb to fight, the butcher-man, to reverse the page of History. It would be a miracle. She consoled herself, she thought with a sinking feeling to gain courage.

She: "He would not dare to do her any harm as yet;" She consoled herself.
She "He was mother's tame dog." "Dogs do not bite the owner."
Again her mind refused to agree and doubts started hovering. In her life she had never displayed fear. Today she was really afraid. This time she was full of all sorts of fear. Her mind refused to work. Fear is something that has to be learnt by experience. It takes the life out of you. She was young to experience such an event. She felt dizzy, confused not knowing the fate. Startled expression lingered over her face. They were visible. Her head ached, her body ached. She thought about going out, to a neighborly friend's house, not very far, but far enough when she was tired and not well. Staying in the bed was not going to solve the problem. If not today, some day she had to face this problem. There had to be somebody who could help, someone to talk to. At home there was nobody. After mother's death, there had been a sort of emptiness in the house.

She was really in a vulnerable position. She had invited trouble. This chilling possibility penetrated her mind like a steel blade. It was so unacceptable that she refused to believe it. She waited for events to take their turn. Let it be. Come, what may! She consoled herself that she had been unduly disturbed by her thought and there was no possibility of his advancing further. She assured herself. She calmed.

One moment her nervousness was ebbing away, next moment it was returning with double force. Her mind oscillated in all direction for and against the possibility. She had many memory of him since they were living together under one roof for the last few years. She had almost neglected his presence giving no chance of any conversation or intimacy. None of the past memories about him were pleasant for she had crossed swords with him innumerable times in the past. She had handled him with a stern look. She was feeling today, ridiculous. She lived in the castle house since childhood and she had on many occasion dealt with him with firm hand putting an end to his intimate talk.

She knew what he was and that he knew that she knew about it. There was no secret about it. She had rein of power on him always. She had held the reins quite tight upon him. She knew that beauty was a promise to attract the male, to lure him to wander around. She was therefore lying low in the house never revealing and always concealing. Man wants to believe to be above such temptation. They live in a life full of myth. It is a myth they carry. All men are on a look out for easy prey if they could lay hand on.
Every woman wants to believe herself to be a beauty, she craves to be prettier, richer, glamorous happier than they were. They did all sorts of tricks to do this. She was an exception. This did not apply to her. She was simple and domestic loving girl not influenced by the glamour of the outside world. Plain living and good thinking was her life. She was an aspiration being, wanting to be somebody, someday, somehow, somewhere.

Every woman wants a settled life secured in matrimony. She hopes safety, protection. In her body she sells hope. It is triumph of hope over experience. All do it. All know it. The silver-tongued that conjures such dreams is part circus, part created magic with smoke and mirror galore on their part to lure to capture them in the cage of matrimony. It is an institution of myth. Marriage is a tie that binds one man with one woman for the whole of their long or short life. It allures her to enter into it in haste whereas those who entered into it strive to get out of it in haste. Both ways life becomes miserable. She was inexperienced of all this. She was a blank piece of paper clean and dot-less. She did not know marriage was a myth.
She: "Sorrows come not in single, but in battalion. "
She could see, him put both things on the wooden shelf near window. She felt him come towards her with some informal remarks.
He :- " I have never seen you look so pale! "
He:- "Oh ! God what has been the matter?"
He came to stand close to her. He put his fingers on her forehead in a style a doctor would do. He carefully separated and freed the wrapped blanket. He slipped his arms around, and propped her up so that she sat supporting her back to the wall of the bed. Her eyes went half-closed out of fear and shame and shyness of finding her alone in such a position, for the first time, in her life. She felt herself insecure in his presence. She was a girl alone in the house. His unexpected advancement on her privacy was disturbing and challenging. It was for the first time in many years he had attempted to behave like this. After mother's death they happened to be living under the same roof without any difficulty. Today was a different day, from all point of view.

He took one hand off his pocket and laid it over hers. The sudden simple contact left her quite dumbfounded. Nobody in the most intimate moment had touched her before in such an intimate way. She felt as if he owned her. She kept herself on the bed in shocked silence. She was mesmerized with the abrupt movement of his hand, heavy hand of a big male. She froze. Her eyes ached. Blood rushed to her head. Her body trembled, and what remained of the mind tried desperately to think out ways and means to get out of this mess. Her mind did not respond.
His fingers rubbed and caressed her head. He adjusted her unruly braids of hair with fingertip like a hair comb. With other hand he lifted her hand in style of a doctor, measuring pulse. This made her dizzy. She liked it, soothing and comforting. She was virtually tongue-tied and could not utter anything. She kept eyes shut as if she was asleep; as if cat-napping, but her heart was pounding with such increasing speed, she thought it would explode against the rib cage. The blood in the vein was rushing to the temples as if it might explode any moment causing brain hemorrhage. She was a shocked helpless bird. She knew her days were over. She remembered mother's golden words of advice to protect honor of a woman at cost of life. How in history many had died for their honor! The list was long. She should not have stayed home. She should have gone to the college. He had come well prepared. He had done homework. Mother was right, always telling,
She: "Do not, ever, be alone with males." "It gives them idea."
She: "It is fun for them." "They have not to lose." "It is one more ride for them."
She: "With us, it is life and death business." "We can not afford it."

She: "It is a prized treasure Nature has gifted us, not to be wasted on unworthy people."

She had missed the bus. She was sure to be ruined. It was written on the wall. Writing on the wall was clear. It was written in bold letters. By God! Save her! She prayed all prayer mother had taught her to chant in times of need. She forgot most of them. Her knowledge of all precaution went futile. She was sure to be used. Sword of Damocles was about to fall.
His fingers moved down from her head to forehead and to her cheeks, turned to encircle her lips and again upside up to nose, temples, ears, again to the cheeks, chin, towards front- neck, and inside front all the way in. His fingers were widening and exploring, in search of something, as if he was sure they were there, surprised not finding what he wanted, and his hands coming up empty. He left a heavy sigh of disgust with himself. He sat in silence for a while meditating and thinking what to do next. He was still however trying to locate in his mind one infallible clue to reach the goal; he believed himself nearer to it than ever before and as if expected that his hands would catch hold of them wherever they lay hidden. He wondered how come, his hands could not find them! He was really puzzled.

After a while as if he gained strength, to advance further, he positioned himself on the bed sitting, his thigh touching her. He massaged her head, moving his fingers in the folds of her hair, then moving on the face, shoulders, nape, the neck, going up to her back, in the rear, all the way down the spine, causing untold hair-splitting body -ache.

She started shuddering. Veins started pulling, and stretching. All juices in her body got collected and rushed at a place, for a way out, with velocity of waters of Niagara-falls. Her secret prayers were heard. Her secret dreams were coming true. Every human being is a split personality. The Jackyll & Hyde theory of split personality is based on science of human behavior. He behaves differently at different occasion.

Groaning, he took her in his arm, buried his face in her hair. He kissed her hair over and over again. He was shaking in every limb with oppressed suppressed passion, emotion, and half rage, half-desire. His suppressed desire had found a vent today. He did not go up to her lips to kiss her right away. He continued to repeat the cycle of events.
A hard wind blow of passion drove him to her lips. He devoured the lips with his own, kissing her. It looked as if he was dying of thirst. To him her mouth was a moist ripe peach fruit.
One has to stand in meditation on his two feet life long to procure such a prized piece of beauty. She was amazed. She innocently and awkwardly returned his kisses. She gave up herself up to the joy that he was holding her, tight being kind, good and kissing. She had never experienced such feeling. This was something new to her. She was thrilled. She was anxious to know further. She felt she was unduly frightened and alarmed. It was a wonderful experience. She abandoned herself to the fulfillment of years of yearning for this moment. She, inexperienced, to the kiss on the lips, was shaken. The discovery of the mouth of another, roughness of his lips, hardness of the teeth, and wetness of the tongue was new.

She began to return his kiss as if each kiss could bring back her dream she had reveled in bringing back world's happiness in returning his kiss. She was inexperienced in this field. She felt on top of the world.

In Heaven, a dam had burst wide open. It had let waters fall on the world, flood them all. It had swept them in its grip, pulling them with its waves. The wild waves hitting them, submerging them, down to the bottom of the earth. They were again coming up to breathe, dashing against trees, houses, and what ever came in the way. They were not knowing the fate, almost sure to drown, losing consciousness, floating as per its will. They were having no hope of survival.

She knew it was coming! Silly! Really she was silly! Say, she went mad, quite mad, she liked to be mad. She did not want to be wise. If you are wise, life is dull dry and dark. Being wise, you have many restrictions, checks, controls, ifs and buts, and responsibility. It is good to stay mad. She died. In death, she felt it sweet! She enjoyed dying. What a fall! What an extent she had changed!

She cursed mother that she had lied to her about all this. There were no danger mother had out-lined. The sensation was all heaven. She wanted to bathe herself in his love. Let it pour on her and, on her flesh. Let thy love in kisses rain, on her cheeks and eyelids pale, Oh! Press her close to thee! There, it should break at-last. ! She liked it. Go a head!
Few moments of love are better than a dry spell of long life. Her face was glowing. It sparkled like red hot sun on the horizon.

She came back from her dream. Her senses returned. She knew there was an emergency. Her honor was in danger, about to be molested. She was behaving like a helpless spectator to her ruin. She was unable to do anything. She was in the most helpless situation ever imagined. Nero, the Emperor of Rome was playing the fiddle while Rome was burning. She did not feel like doing anything. She had gone stalemate. She did not know what to do. Let the nature take its own course. He had taken over full control over her. The Almighty is there to take care of everybody. He would save her. She relied on Him.

She could not do anything. She felt she was helpless. After a while, as if, she were endowed with some divine strength, duly embarrassed, she pushed him out of the way and came down the bed.

She had pushed him aside. He was taken aback. She rose to her full height, confronted him with a stern face. At once she felt marginally better. She was her own self now, in control of the situation.

She: "What are you doing here in my room?"
She: "What business you have got to come here?"
She: "Out!" "Get lost to your place before I make a scene and draw a crowd."
She: "What you have taken me for?"
He chuckled. Inside he was shaken. He made a brave front.
He: "I was worried about your sickness."
He: "I am concerned with your health."
He: "I felt I would entertain you to keep you happy."
He: "I did not mean anything else."

Annoyed by his sudden intrusion, she stamped her foot, expressing displeasure that was her usual habit. She did not enter into further conversation. She gathered her slippers in an attempt to move around the room. She did not know he had moved behind. He was determined to get her today. He was an aroused animal. He did not waste time. He cornered her with his hands. He held her firmly against his chest. She frowned. Gathering courage, she ducked away beneath his arms and moved away from him. He was very much still. He took a second step, pulled her in his arms before she realized what had happened. Again she was at square ‘A'. She froze under his stare. She felt he was going to kiss her. She had to stop him. But she did nothing to stop him. With ease and slow deliberation, he advanced, took her in his arms. When she tried to pull away, he made a smile at her. He appreciated her fighting spirit. He tightened his grip. There was a gleam in his eyes. He pulled her still closer. She opened her mouth to shout, but before she could utter anything, he had his mouth firmly clamped over hers. It was a long, long practiced kiss, his lips pressed and probed her lips. She was rigid in his arms, but the heat was spreading. He continued to kiss at slow pace not suffocating and not hurried but as he continued kissing her, she succumbed to weakness, and melted. She was responding to his kiss against her will. He finally released her to breathe and relax.

He caressed her shoulders, which when touched, had the freshness and polish, he had ever seen. The skin was velvety and untouched by a male member of the male community.

He traveled towards her side-neck, nape, chin cheeks, temples. His hand went to her hair, head, and descended to the back of the head. It went to her back- neck, and galloped straight to the waist and beyond. It came back, journeying slowly up, and down, to back; from back to shoulder and again from shoulder to the back, going far rear, all the way down. There was no further beyond that point. It was as if a circular route he had adopted ascending and descending at every curve.

Remembering her mother and her affair with the Prince, she wondered whether she had taken the path her mother had chosen. She was a virgin. She had never dreamt of sleeping with any man before. She had hated him, and everything he stood for. She could not however dispute the fact that she found herself physically attracted to him.

She: "Was she a shameless girl, desiring him?" she asked herself. Surely a decent girl would not get attracted like this. There was more of her mother's blood in her than she realized. She felt she deserved to be destroyed at the hands of an ungrateful fellow on account of her behavior. She felt she had violated rules of nature prescribed to be followed by a virgin. An agonizing pressure was developing within her ready to burst out any second.

Her body was not in control. Something within her had revolted. She was not her own self. She had resigned herself to his mercy. He saw her tilt her head back against the wall. She had raised her hands high in a deep sigh. He took it as come- on sign. He felt encouraged. He felt jubilant at such an easy catch.

She appeared very informal in offering herself to him. She was unaware of it. He could see that she was not playing the usual coquette or the mandatory tease before submitting. She did not understand the consequences. She was a blank piece of paper. Her look was so eager, that, it gathered together her entire ardent nature, and it was offered to him in an artful manner, without any ceremony. She was an unspoiled child. He kissed the curve of the jaw, near her neck and everywhere, puzzled and bewildered at such an easy catch. It was apparently a case of misfits. We see around in our practical life so many misfits. There would be addition of one more.

She knew he had her. She was deceived. She thought him a straightforward guy whom she could make him dance to her tunes as and when she pleased, proved wrong. Her arithmetic failed her. After Mother's death for the last few
years, or so, they were living together. He was the slave. She had an upper hand. She could get done anything from him. But today, she got scared. She was sure of it. Today it was different.

She: "Trust an Animal but never a Man. Animals are faithful, not ungrateful like him."
She: (to herself) "Can a leopard change its spots?"

A leopard can not change its spots. It could not change its nature. She realized this truth today. He had made a plot to get her. It was a case of misfits. Since Mother's death it appears, he had his eyes on her. He was waiting for an opportunity to put his plan into practice.

Today she provided him with an opportunity. She was home and not gone to college. Atmosphere was romantic. Occasional showers of rain had accelerated the atmosphere into a more romantic day. The house was an ideal place for love. He had made the necessary arrangement to advance further in the name of helping her in her sickness. He had prepared a rub to help her to overcome cold etc. It was an exquisite plan he had invented to get her. He had taken her quite by a surprise. She had not expected him to advance further with such unfair tactics.

He was like a leopard in the jungles. She was like a doe-deer, in the forest. The deer wants to love the leopard, it also wants admire the green grass. The reality is far from real life. The leopard can not live unless it eats the deer-doe. The doe can not live unless it eats the green grass. the leopard hunts the doe-deer and catches it and kill, drags to his baby leopards to eat it. The deer-doe selects a stag-deer of her community.

They all belonged to different world, got together by chance or by some irony of fate, like passengers in a train. They were like strange co-fellows, rock bottom different from each other. Here, she was dreaming, there, the thief was doing his job. She was helpless. She had no strength to oppose. Her faculties failed her. She was no match for him.

She: (to herself). Oh! Lord! What is happening! Today! He was different! She knew all the symptoms. She was in danger. What to do? He was a hunter dog.

He was a bloodhound dog. She was the victim of the day. She had seen the dog hovering after the bitch and smelling, licking her at all places and all that. The dog was all honey and sugar for getting the trophy. Once he had penetrated he was the king. He was at rest now, panting, breathing hard, lungs inflating, with saliva oozing from its mouth; he would be half-sleeping with a winner's face. She had seen the bitch suffering. She had seen the bitch, striving to get detached. She had seen pain and repentance in her eyes. A dog is a dog. It has its place. You do not dress it up and take it to a dance. Here she was doing all the philosophy. There he was doing the job.

She: (to herself). From dog, her mind turned to garden, and garden-keeper. Her mind was traveling fast, at jet speed. He appeared before her eyes as the gardener of the garden of flowers. He knew which flower was ripe to be plucked. Today she had fallen to his favor. She had to face it. To him, she was just a flower, to smell and to crush and crumple and throw away! Females are flowers. They are buds in the teens. Many buds and flowers fall prey in wrong hands and they are withered before their blossoming time. They survive to live like walking skeletons. They are better dead than alive. A flower or a bud can not by her volition give herself to anyone. She has to be plucked and taken. The real man comes to the flower, as if it was his own property. He just comes, sees and collects. He plucks it and buttons it in his buttonhole and would walk out.

No question is asked. No permission is sought. No apology is tendered. Man is the master of all he surveyed. She is very much obsessed with the idea of giving herself to a man. She simply can not decide about it. She is in two minds weighing every pros and cons about the man. All her faculties get transfixed, dumb, and paralyzed.

She: (to herself). To her it is a treasure. She can not decide. She has no capacity to give. It has to be snatched, or stolen from her, without her knowing. She is taken on a high ride. Her importance is magnified. She has to feel that she has gone so big at her zenith that none can reach her. She has to be tricked and trapped without her knowing that she is already captured. She has to be kept so busy with series of functions, appointment journey and other off hand last minute unscheduled program that she does not find time to think what is going on. She has to be kept intoxicated with praise promises and pampering. Her dreams have been fulfilled. She has to feel that she is a star. Star is seen in the night. They fade in the daytime. She has to live in the myth of being a world celebrity. She should not feel depressed any moment. She would surrender in her entirety. It is now time to enjoy her, to eat her, to take her alive.
It is the same process as we tame a horse-mare. To ride on a mare and to bridle her is an art. The mare is afraid of its own shadow. The mare does not trust anyone lest he may ride over her. You have to be with her for hours, for days, months and years with sugar lumps, to allow her to smell you nuzzle you. She has to be pampered and praised all the while. You have to be a part of her. You have to belong to her. You have to be one with her. Caress her, praise her cajole her; allow her to live into her dreams.

Then you take her. And ride over her. She is meant to be bridled ridden and spurred.. It is late for the mare when she realized that the rider had already ridden over her, bridled her and had possessed her. Men have been doing this for ages. The females have been falling in the trap knowingly or unknowingly or some with knowledge but do not mind, as they are interested in temporary pleasure.
She shuddered at the very idea, as to what next he would do! In first game, she had melted. Her flesh failed her. Her breath came in painful gasps. Her face was flushed. She felt her body ached with the discomfort of the long and tiring journey to the moon, the stars and the planet. How she would survive in big games! She could not think. All thinking stopped. All her wisdom was gone. She felt she lost consciousness.

She had not prepared herself. She felt she was not worthy to be mother's daughter. She had simply thrown herself to him without knowing consequences. He would not leave her today! She was sure to be his prey. He must have watched her. He had known that she had attained age. He was on a look out to get her. She helped him by not going to the college. It was a blessing in disguise for him. It was a God gifted -opportunity he had got for free and that too without effort. Oh God! Why in the hell she stayed home! She deserved it. It was entirely her fault. Had she used her head, she would have been safe. He was all set to go all the way. She felt she failed.
Again she got busy in her thought. He was a hunter dog of the jungle, a grey hound, or an Alsatian dog!

He was not a tamed Pomeranian puppy. He knew every bitch needed servicing. She had seen inexperienced small puppies failing in their aim. But this one was sure to hit the jackpot at the first shot. He would take a blind shot but it never missed. She would be serviced, well serviced. She would have not to complain thereafter. She would be in bed for days. She would forget walking.
He smiled. He moved towards her. He stopped right in front of her. He stood so close; she could smell the husky male odor. He extended his hands. He got his palms moving on her ears, going in circular route down to the neck, and inside the front, now boldly searching for her breasts. Her breasts were not trained and were unknown to any touch, were in raw form of limped lumps of flesh not developed. He started fondling them.

As he stroked her breasts, they seemed to have life. They swelled under his touch. The flesh was hardening. He searched for its tips and started fondling in rhythm, circular way, clockwise and anti clockwise, going from one to another. Thirsty hungry untrained and inexperienced as they were, nipples started responding, with his touch. They started growing and standing erect and the bags started filling with life. The downfall began. Countdown started. It was a matter of minutes. Before a minute, alive, next minute dead. There was no chance of her survival.

She prayed, and again prayed God to run to her rescue. She was doomed. She was slipping. She was skidding. She could feel it. She was getting heated.

A bitch in her heat does not know. She responds to regret. She goes along to die. She digs her own grave. She helps destroying herself, by getting ready and responding. She was getting bold. She was no longer ashamed. She felt she never knew it was so wonderful. She felt she made a mistake. She should have used him much earlier. She felt she wasted her years. All sorts of mad vile ideas were over-powered her. She got mad. She got lost. She wanted help. She felt she wanted him, real. She was hankering for his love.

She: (to herself) "Come, You timid?"
She: "Why are you wasting the time?"
She: "I have not left whole day for your fun."
She: "I have work to do."

The waiting was interminable.
Her body started jerking up and down, helping and assisting him in his efforts to water the dead plant. He was a body mechanic, an efficient repairer. He must open a garage to repair so many, many, unhappy girls like her, who were frigid, dry, dead though living. He knew which part of the body was dead. He could set them right. A mechanic repairs and hands over the stuff to the master. He does not own grab the vehicle. He charges a fee for repairs and turns over the vehicle to the proper man.

There was transformation in her. He had made her a woman. Her breathing became hard. She started dancing to his movements. She had turned red.

She drowned in water with dams bursting to destroy everything. There was heavy bombarding. The sky noised with thunders, lightening. Its noise deafened her ears. Firecrackers burst every where. Rain was pouring and wild wind was blowing all around. She clung to him.

His hands rested at her shoulder blades making circular movement rubbing them with palms. This process heated her like a wild animal. She fell under his influence. He had taken hold of her. He was the boss and she was the slave. She was frantic with excitement. She was shaken with the new experience. Her body responded to his jerks, thrusts, upheavals and what not! She felt as if earthquake happened all around. She thought the world had come to an end! He pulled her ears playing with earlobes and penetrated ear- holes with fingers. It maddened her. Some restraint was left in her who got melted.

She was freed from age-old obsession, restraint, control, checks, ties, vows, promise to behave, and all strings of bond, barrier, bound-relation. Powerful electric current was passing in her. Her budding bosom heaved and sighed. It could take no further. It got enlarged like the paper bag. It looked it may blast any moment.

She came to her senses. She pulled back. She hit him on the face with all her strength. It made sound like an explosion.

He hissed, looked startled. Her palms burnt. She darted towards the door. She knew she had to run out of the place as soon as possible. Something terrible would happen. He was quick. He grabbed her by his hand. He threw her back on the bed. She tried to get up. He shoved her back on the bed again. He held her by her shoulder. His other palm went to her other shoulder. Both palms used to meet at nape of neck together. It moved down to waist level in the back, with her body encircled in his grip. His whole self was hovering over her with circular jerk thumps, push, pulls, and hot breath on her. She went crazy. She started moving, up down, side ways, and circular, with him. She adjusted her movement, in rhythm with his. They traveled and circled the whole world, hundred times. This was her first world ride and she saluted him. She wanted to reward him. In her sub-conscious mind, she wished he never stopped. She felt she failed with his every touch.

Atmosphere was full with wildest ever ideas. She never felt like this. She lived with every embrace. She failed in every game. She fainted at every touch. She surrendered with every tongue -play. She died with every kiss. She jumped at every stroke. She danced at every slash. He had a hunter-whip, a leather raw hide cord in his hand. He whipped hard and hard till she could not endure. She bounced at every whip-hit. She raised her legs with next whip hit. This aroused him. He hit hard again. She screamed. Her legs involuntarily opened up all possible wide. It exposed the mount and moulds for his view. He kicked her with his boots.

She bent and turned on her belly. He whipped her back so hard that she felt she flew in air, full of pain and scream. Saliva ran flowing from her mouth. Her bare back, shoulders got whip-marks imprinted on her skin. Boot- marks were seen all over the body. She lay unconscious.

Helpless, Harassed, she was abused all over her back buttocks and the body. She deserved every beating, slash, kicks hits, whip, slaps. She liked the beating. But she had enough. She failed at every attempt to stop him. She could not do it. Something within her had revolted. Her inner voice was encouraging to go on, go on, go ahead, still ahead, and ahead, all the way, and never, never to stop, and naturally he would not. She collapsed.

He advanced. He slid his hands under her armpits. His hands then, went down via side ribs deep all the way up to side loins. His hands touched waist -band of her inner underwear at her tiny waist. The hands went again up, pressing and crushing side ribs, and so on. This electrified every bone of the body, watering, caressing her in every place.

She responded to his ways. He was encouraged. Both danced together. Both danced for hours, days. They were not tired. They were not filled. Both wanted still more, more and more. At last both collapsed together entwined in each other's embrace and fell to the ground. They both were wet having bathed in the lake of love.

It seemed the game was in the semi final. It must be a full-day game. He was playing his game with deft attention care and concentration. His attention was fixed on her every move, rhythm style everything. She had stood up to the occasion. His pulse quickened at the thought of a fierce love making with her in the next moments.

A big fire had taken place within her too. She was burning with flame. The fire could not be put off with buckets or pails of water. It needed fire fighters to cool her, to quench her. Alas! Somebody had to estimate the situation. At last, fire fighters were called. Fire Alarms were ringing deafening her ears. Fire-bells were sounding in the distance. Fire fighters were far-off, to stop him, to take him away. It would be late. She lay numb and stiff. She waited. At last she heard them. Sirens were heard in a long distance. Sirens were now clearly heard as they advanced near and near and came nearer and nearer to her rescue. She was a dead duck. She was a limp lump of flesh. He was caressing her ferociously. Her sides had gone red, the skin was warned out, flesh had swollen ready to come out. At last hosepipe were set. Ladders were laid and adjusted. Heavy boots were pounding, marching everywhere. Firemen wearing fireproof helmets entered. They caught hold him and pulled him away, dragging him. Water had started pouring in. She was drenched wet as if she was swimming in the room and she was feeling cooled with so much of water. Now she was satisfied. She could not endure it.

It was now time for a new game. She anticipated. She guessed. She knew it. He caught hold of her hands. He raised her hands up over her head. Her head was garlanded in a halo form by her entwined hands placed over her head. This view of exposed armpits maddened him. Her budding bosom was seen prominently, terribly heaving, out of breath longing for air. It was moving up and down with every breath for air. It may burst any time. The view aroused and maddened him. If a painter captured this view, in a painting, sure he would get first rank. She had died out of delight. She was proud to float in her dream.
He placed his palm firmly on each armpit. This generated wave and series of waves of emotion, sentiment, feeling, idea, dream all around. Drama was staged for this sensation to appraise the world of the power of this new experience. He was playing with latest model of new device. She sensed that it was a long unending game. He took a deep breath closed his eyes as if in meditation. He slept. His hands were resting on each pit. Her arm-pits emitted a long- stored, oppressed, pressed, suppressed heat like arrows were shot from there, in his palm. It pierced and burned his palm. He got jerk of an electric current. He was taken aback. He controlled him. He was happy. Contented, satisfied. She was breathless, speechless, dumb, still, and a statue. Today she died hundred times to live forever. The electricity, vigor and vitality flowing from him caused sensation unknown to her. The bell had ring. They climbed the bed for rest.

It was the big-recess in the class. She laid standstill. They took a nap. The bed was silent. It no longer creaked by the weight. The room was silent. It was recess. She met mother in dream. She told what he did. She asked her to come back. She held her. Both held each other. They both held and wept. Tears were flowing. Eyes were swollen. Bodies were trembling. Heads were spinning. Winds were blowing. Sky was falling. Sun was cracking. Stars were breaking. Earth was going in sea and they were drowning. She was hanging suspended on the horizon waiting for her turn to drown.

He got up. He stood up. He awoke her. He lifted her. He changed her now on the bed in straight sleeping pose. It was a new game; new style, new method. new tools, new technology. Her back was straight on the cot. He put pillow under the head and adjusted her preparing ground for next game. It was the final. She knew all facts taken together indicated that the opening ceremony would soon begin. Before the game started, she ran away. She knew, this was final to be played, to begin shortly. He ran after her. He caught her and dumped her again on the bed. He had grabbed her with his hand and shoved her on the mattress with a violent push. She was flabbergasted at her failure. All her strength had melted. She did not resist now.

The stadium was filled with thousands of spectators. The two team were about to come to play Final. Oh! Here it begins now! He was all set to go for the final act. She was in two minds. Helpless as she was, she went ahead.

They held each other. Their bodies got encircled and entwined. Faces touched each other. They were feeling breathing smelling each other likes two wild animals engrossed in fierce love play. They were smiling at each other, saying nothing, staying in loose embrace. She had clung to him.

They were one. By God! What was happening? Their Hearts were pounding. Do not stop. Start. Their bodies had melted in each other. Begin the game. End the silence. Begin the game; One, Two, and Three. Music, Drums started beating, loud, maddening every soul. What for the idiot was waiting? She was longing to die.

All of a sudden the curtain was raised. Thunderous clap was heard, greeting them. They resumed at dead slow pace and rhythm. They progressed slowly, and increasing their tempo, the momentum fast, faster and fastest. Faces devoured each other in wild passion. Both were giving and receiving, both were receiving and giving and so on. Days passed but they had not separated. Atmosphere was pleasant. Music was on; different instrument were playing wild mad music. It caused series of sensations, wild shouts, claps, big hands cheers and chaos, big blasts of bombs, fire-crackers, gun-fires, cannons thundering all around. Wild applause was heard. At last, after many days cease-fire was announced. Now the World was still. Life was still. They were also still. Their eyes were still. All things were still. She had exhausted halfway.

Again music was heard first slowly, coming nearer and nearer. They stirred as if awoke from sound slumber. Their hands were entwined at each other's back. They had stuck to each other with glue, never to be separated. They were a pair of Siamese twins tied together. The heat had over taken them in its full grip. Nobody, no power, no being, not even, mother, if she came back, could detach them from each other's embrace. Gradually tired and breathless and ready to fall and faint and die, they lay still. They were tired and torn, from a storm of heat, sand, flying in a desert all around.

Both of them did not know how they started going mad again, very mad, then, too mad. Their movement increased. Their bodies were joined in tight violent embrace. The tempo of the atmosphere had reached climax. They heard fast music. They were dancing with its speed, embracing and kissing, letting loose. At last, they stopped. They got tired and fell dead-tired to the floor.

After some time they were reborn. They resumed embracing and kissing, again letting loose. Again they were kissing and kissing and kissing devouring crushing breaking each other. They fell on the ground unconscious, breaking all record, all limit, all modesty, all barriers, and all boundaries. They had fallen on floor with a bang. They held each other in an embrace forever. Their faces radiated emitted heat into each other. They were arousing each other; they were encouraging each other, their bodies communicated green signals to each other, to go all the way. All line-clear bell rang.

She could bear no further. She resigned. She allowed him to do what he liked. She accepted defeat. She put her at his mercy. He understood. She was tired. She was limp. She wanted strength. She wanted rest. They laid in a fixed pose for hours on the floor, that she slept supporting her head on his shoulder, he was still, unmoved. He had used abused, reused, charged, recharged her small dry frame, gifting her with heat in her as if she were a live bomb about to blast. She was to be cooled by a cool shower of rain from him. She was panting and short of breath. She knew not what to do.

He lifted her from the floor and placed her again on the platform. He embraced her. He was still hungry and thirsty not satisfied and wild and attacking, jumping, humping and thumping and tossing and crushing as if she were a wild horse-mare brought to him to be tamed and trained. He was to day the ringmaster. He had tamed many horses. She was easy for him.

He gave life to her and she received his pleasure, as if both were playing love-tennis, high stroke, hard stroke, slow stroke, short stroke, far stroke, hitting stroke, returning stroke, placing stroke. At the end of every game, they were running to each other to take each other in each other's arms, in close embrace, never to depart, breathless, over-powered. They were charged with feeling. They were tired. They were playing a passive and submissive game so that it may never end.

This was all new for a maiden not knowing the art of love. They fainted. All was silent for a while. Battle had stopped. Drums had stopped. Music had stopped.

Everything had stopped. Both lay in each other's arms in an embrace for hours and dozed.

He resumed smelling, caressing with his nose and mouth and lips. He kissed her forehead. He was advancing, from side of the forehead returning via the end of the other side of it, to the eyes, nose, cheek, chin, and nape of the neck. He then came to the back covering full territory, temples, and her hair. He then made same journey on the same route with lips moving on nape of the neck. His mouth released hot breath. He lost himself in the depth of her armpits. He traveled his mouth from one side to the other crossing over her body. His front was touching her budding breasts in the process of reaching the other armpit. It was causing electric vibration and strong current. It was sending vulgar message.

She did not recollect when he undid buttons of her frock. He pushed it down exposing shoulders and full view of white neck and the back. He freed her hands from the sleeves. He saw the bare shoulders and outline of thin hairline in the armpits. He buried his mouth to smell, to lick with his wet tongue, and drowned himself in its depths, for long, forever. She died in a second, as she could not take it any longer.

She was startled, puzzled, amazed, horrified, finding her untouched place, wet on account of his moist breath. It made her skin wet and slippery. She was new to this sort of contact on her exposed skin. Something unknown and painful was happening within her. Ants were biting, thorns were pinching.

Something new took shape within her. Blood circulation had doubled up. Her face was red with shame and shyness. She felt lonely guilty unwanted, selfish silly and everything bad. She felt uncomfortable, adrift, uneasy pathetic, ashamed empty, cheap dirty, self-centered disgusted.

Again the game had resumed. It started first slowly, gradually progressing. It reached climax in a moment, Stage by stage, step by step. All her wisdom had vanished. Drums were heard beating loudly. She was dancing to its tunes, dead drunk and intoxicated floating in the ocean of love. There was a new sensation within her. All festivals, Shows, Concerts were dull and slow if compared with their speed and rhythm in their game. She was a witness of her own tragedy. The downfall would begin now.

Hundred times he lifted her. He had flown her in air. He caught her, again. He threw her high in air, caught her, hugged her, kissed her, tore her, twisted her, turned her, over-turned her, up-turned her, in-turned her, high- turned her, half turned her, and full-turned her. She knew not how many times he pressed her, smashed her, grind her, pulped her, ate her, killed her, enlivened her, again killed her, and tortured her.

Now it should end. She could not face his steady stare. She turned herself the other side facing the wall to hide her expression and aroused condition. She felt she would faint again.

By God! What a blunder! What a mistake she did! How could she be so foolish? She was between "Devil and the Deep Sea." She had lost the game. Her turning sideways made space which enabled him to sleep and do anything. One wrong step was the end of the game. He sucked and licked her naked neck and open back. He was hungry as a fox. He was the master. He was the boss and she was his slave forever. She gave it in writing.

She did not know what happened. She was dead. She was born again, again, hungry, thirsty, panting, tired, broken, swollen, fighting to control her. It must have been hours when she found him at work. He had his head planted in the nape of the neck and as she turned to his side, he grabbed her, held her, and pressed her, close to him so firm and tight, that she felt she would break and die at last. It would never end. The bell had ring. It should be over by now.

For a while he withdrew his head as if to rest. He also withdrew his mouth allowing her to breathe. She thought the game to be over. It would not end. It was short recess. It was a never-ending game. It had a beginning with no end. It would be an endless episode.

Thereafter still two periods were left for long bell to ring to go home. He held her face. He clamped his lips on hers. This forced her to open them in a sort of a fierce attack.

He threw his body over her, riding, eating her, and devouring her alive, resting his mouth clamped on hers. He was debating within himself now what to do. Nothing was left. All was done.
She was immobile and frigid under his weight. She had already resigned herself and surrendered to him. She acknowledged his success, his victory and invasion on her privacy. He had conquered her. She was his slave. Still he did not free himself. His lips were planted on her half-closed lips. He was at work forcing his tongue to enter the mouth. His lips were warm and wet oozing with his saliva which drained into her forced- open mouth and she must have swallowed saliva in ton for hours. She started having sexy sentiment in her overpowered self. The whole body was not within her control. It was set free to do what it liked.

He is an inventor. He can invent all sort of new drill and exercise. He would not leave you free for a while. He kept her engaged and active. He could create a feeling that was most exquisite she had ever known. His mouth tugged on her tender sensitive skin. It was a feeling, rapturously new that tears stung her eyes. Her head fell back on his shoulder to rest. She surrendered to his lips, mouth, hands, palms, and fingers which all jointly and severally were responsible to cause an unknown fire in her.

A fire had ignited within her. She could not extinguish it. She was not her own self. She was an aroused animal. She wanted to enjoy the game of love at his hands. She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg of him not to torture her any further. She could not endure his heat any longer, any further. She preferred to be strangulated, and die out of passion at his hands. Vile dream of a fierce battle fought between them surfaced before her eyes.

He extended his hand to lift her to stand before him. He allowed her to stretch herself to stand to her full height and cling to him. For one entire period they stood embraced to each other doing nothing just standing vibrating heat of their bodies flowing into each other, exchanging wild message from each other. Gradually he explored her body inch to inch, exploring her entire back from head to foot as a surveyor surveys the field every inch of the land with meticulous involvement, concentration and labor, with his fingers, palms, hands, mouth and finally;

He about-turned her; and he stood behind her, touching her waist with his hands, putting his hands on the side hips and pulled her towards him. She stepped backwards, dazed, dumb, and drawn to him, in a sort of hypnotized state of mind, body, and soul. She parked her entire frame firmly cemented with his frame. They stood still for hours, days, years, and ages. He stood behind. He resumed to explore her front, sides, hovering over her, his mouth planted in the depths of her neck right and left, both turn by turn, and now really, finally;

He confused her. He induced her into moving, turning, with slow rhythm. The tempo and speed gradually accelerated as if she were rotating on her toes at an immense speed and he was just touching and giving a slight push and support to continue rotating all times like a ballerina skating on ice. This went on for hours and days and years and ages. She felt she failed. She fainted. She died. She lived. Again she died. She was dizzy. Her mind and body were spinning like a top as if some super-natural force motivated her to spin and spin and so on, like the Sun inspiring the planets to rotate incessantly without stopping.

Some how she did not know from where she was over -powered with strength and anger and hatred that she pushed him. She wanted to run away. In that process, she fell down backwards on the bed in an her effort to move him from her way. He was a heavy stone-pillar with the result that she got thrown back. Half-lying on the bed, she kicked him so hard as if she felt, she broke her leg.

She felt her mother's good deeds had come to her rescue and saved her from her downfall. It was a miracle. No explanation is necessary for those who believe in miracle. No explanation is possible for those who do not believe in miracle. They said age of miracle was past. Can the age of miracle be past? Never. Never. The age of miracle is forever. He was slow. He thought he had the all day and night to himself. He followed the rules of the book. He did it methodically step by step. Idiot as he was!

"A bird in hand is better than two in the bush."
He was taken aback with a sudden unexpected move from her. He was quite unaware. He had taken her for granted! He would have almost fallen down on the floor. But by instinct he out stretched his hands for support of the cot and saved him from stumbling. He took support of the sides of the bed to stand near the bed startled, flabbergasted. She came down the bed to escape. In the process of coming down the bed, her half-open frock slipped further down, up to her waist exposing her breasts. To her surprise they were no longer tiny, and bits. They were big like mother had. They were swollen and grown plump three times in size and proportion, each tight like a hard red new shining lustrous cricket ball, but it had swollen nipples attached. They were aroused and gone brown and looking likes a, cherry, bubbling to burst out with touch or with slightest provocation.

Her breasts would have brushed, stumbled and dashed against his tummy. Her hands by instinct went around each, cupped and covered them. She retreated two steps back, clutched the back edge of the bed, placing her buttocks thereon to support herself. She was out of her mind finding her in the most awkward, vulnerable and embarrassing position in her life. She could not push his heavy frame that blocked her way, nor could she afford to expose herself in half sitting and half standing position with half of her body exposed in the open. At last instinctively, she pushed him. Some divine force had overtaken her. She derived strength from an unknown source. She with all her might, at her disposal, kicked him, right in between his legs.

He cried out, out of pain and agony. She pulled up her frock up to her neck quite fast. She ran past him down the stairs, busy putting her hands in the sleeves, and covered her body. She started buttoning the buttons of front open portion and adjusted her hair with her hands.

His folly was that he did not finish her. He took it as a game and prolonged it. He wasted time. He had to finish right away. He had to kill in one stroke. She was an adversary. He showed mercy on an enemy. Now, never. No chance. He missed his chance. Tables were turned. He had lost forever. She would never trust him. He had lost the game.

She: "I am through with it" "I am saved "She muttered to her-self.
How wrong she was! It had started. It had begun today. She had not realized how much this rendezvous would keep on bugging her at regular interval at odd times.
She was not through with it. She would never forget. Play-by play, stroke-to stroke, live replay of the episode would surface before her eyes like a screen wherein they would be seen playing their part. She would now be a spectator to see her performance and able to merit, evaluate her role with a critic's eye. Her past would follow her as her shadow. She felt her honor modesty was safe sound and protected. Her skin was outraged, swollen, molested and tampered by his fowl hands and dirty mouth.

He was flabbergasted with her sudden move and was standing almost bent out of pain, in front of her blocking her way of escape. She had knocked the air out of him with a mighty kick at the right place, had walked out like a lightening. He remained where he was. He could not attempt to draw or pull her back to him. She had suspected he would surely do. He was not in a condition to do so. She had crossed him leaving him aghast and dumbfounded. The tea and the rub -oil, remained where they were. She had run down the stairs in three jumps reaching the bathroom down near the kitchen. She would have almost tumbled down the stairs. She was gone before he could catch his breath. She went slipping and streaking across the room like a flash. He was left alone. He fell on the floor, quite exhausted and tired.

He intended to make a come-back, to get a chance to play the game again. Up till now the opportunity had never quite presented itself like today. This time he had a break. Events moved remarkably in his favor. He had decided to finish up the mission this time. He could not make out what went wrong at the last minute. He came to a shameless end today.
He felt as if he wanted to die of shame and repentance for his failure. He studied the chronological sequence of events. He could not lay finger on his mistakes. It was apparent that he had no chance to a rehearsal in the near future. She would be armed and guarded all the while. Wait and watch was the only recourse left for him. He engrossed himself in devising ways and means of another orgy.

THE AFTERMATH.

She shut herself in the bathroom, locked the door tightly. She sat on edge of the tub unmoving, water running, filling the tub and over-flowing, her mind utterly boggled. She sat just doing nothing and reconciling in her mind as to what had happened and next what to do. She was totally confused at the turn of the events.

Her mind refused to function. She continued sitting still on the edge of the tub like a statue for almost few hours dumbfounded doing nothing. She then hovered around near the door, her ears straining for a sound, but no sound of his movement was heard from upstairs. She did not hear any noise nor overheard any activity or signs of his coming footstep while getting down the stairs. Atmosphere was as still as the grave. Nervously she pulled the towel more tightly around her shivering in the thin frock, at the very thought of what had transpired within the last few hours. She blamed herself for allowing him to advance further.

All sorts of ideas engrossed her and she was at a loss to find a way out of it. She could scarcely breathe and was panting like an animal. She sucked in for breath and heaved a long sigh of disgust about the state of affairs she had put herself in. Her heart missed a beat when she peered down the window to find that it was almost dark and it was night. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and uttered up silent prayers for her safety, every ounce of her concentration pouring into it. She vowed she would be good for the rest of her life. She would do anything.

She believed that God would do well to her. Her mother had told her that God was Goodness. HE was understanding and forgiving. HE would answer her prayers.
She never imagined that he might take advantage of her in this way. He lived in the house for the last many years. He was her mother's mercy item. He had helped mother and was living with them. After her mother's death it was after about a few years that he had advanced towards her in this way for the first time. Many times in the past, he happened to come upstairs in her room when she was sleeping or studying, but they never took notice of each other. They had taken each other's presence for granted. Her mind was in turmoil. She knew not what to do. She felt Heaven had fallen. She thought of fleeing away from the house. Where to go was a problem. She never anticipated herself in such a terrible and helpless position. She was a carefree bird till now. She put aside all her thought and got up to change and clean herself. He must have dozed. After a while she heard footsteps descending the stairs passing the bathroom, opening shutters of the shop to attend to late evening customers.

She refilled the tub with hot water and rubbed and scrubbed herself so vigorously so as to wash away all the dirt of her body and soul. She washed her hair and poured water on her head for quite a while to steady her nerves and normalize her pounding heart. Cloudy morning had sure brought a clear evening. She recounted the events in her mind. She was feeling confused as to what she should do now. She felt his excited face. His behavior had ruined all her chances of a happy life ahead.