Hello readers, I am back after a long time. I was busy with my personal life. But now I can make time and write what I do the best. I know my previous series, lost its charm at the end.
So now I am starting from the beginning and writing a new story. So kindly read it fully and give me your feedback. You can write to me at /cdn-cgi/l/email-protection” class=”__cf_email__” data-cfemail=”a3d0cbc2d1cecacfc2d0cbc2d1cec2e3d6d0c28dc0ccce”>[email protected]
Shamitha – A typical Indian girl in a typical society.
I remember the day I realized that I was born for something greater than this mundane life. In the narrow lanes of my lower-middle-class neighbourhood, the smell of fish and spices hung from the street vendors shouting their wares.
The dirty homes with peeling paint and rusty grills on windows that creaked in the wind. The gossiping aunties found solace in nitpicking every aspect of each other’s lives.
I couldn’t bear these surroundings forever. I, Shamitha, deserved luxury and modernity. I discovered the power of my beauty early on and how easily it could manipulate others. My seductive eyes, pouty lips, and irresistible figure made me a queen among the local boys. They were like moths to a flame. I knew how to play them to get what I wanted.
“Hey, Shamitha,” Rahul stammered as he approached me, his face beet red. “You’re looking stunning today.”
“Thank you, Rahul,” I smiled sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him. “Oh, I’m craving some ice cream, but I forgot my purse at home. Could you be a dear and buy me some?”
“Of course!” He eagerly pulled out his wallet. He handed me a few hundred rupee notes as if trying to win my affection through his generosity.
“Thanks, Rahul,” I winked, taking the money from him and strolling over to the ice cream cart. I knew he’d follow me like a lost puppy, hoping for more of my attention.
“Shamitha,” another boy whispered in my ear one day as I walked past him, “You look so beautiful in that dress.”
“Thank you,” I replied, feigning shyness. “But it’s too hot today,” I teased him, pretending to fan myself. “I wish I could buy one of those new air conditioners.”
“Really? I can get it for you,” he blurted out, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Are you sure?” I asked coyly, already knowing the answer.
“Absolutely,” he replied. And just like that, I had a brand-new air conditioner in my room.
The boys never seemed to mind my gold-digging ways as long as they thought they could win my heart.
They say every action has a consequence. Though I revelled in the luxury my beauty afforded me, I couldn’t enjoy it without judgment from others. But that never stopped me. I continued using these boys as stepping stones to a better life. Leaving them broken-hearted while I climbed higher towards my dreams.
I manipulated and seduced local boys to gain money and satisfy my desire for luxury. Despite the judgments and disapproval from others, I continued using these boys as stepping stones to a better life.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” I whispered, staring at my reflection in my bedroom’s tiny, cracked mirror. My long, flowing hair cascaded down my back like a velvety waterfall, framing my hourglass figure perfectly. My flawless skin glowed beneath the dim lightbulb.
I couldn’t help but admire my ample breasts, curvy hips, and enticing navel. I took great pride in my appearance and often dressed provocatively, much to the dismay of the conservative society around me.
Today, I had chosen a tight red dress that clung to my body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. It was low-cut, showing off my full breasts, and ended just above my knees. I paired it with black stiletto heels that accentuated the curve of my calves.
I knew this outfit would turn heads, and I revelled in the attention it brought me.
“Shamitha, I don’t know about this dress,” Meera sighed, her brown eyes filled with concern. She looked me up and down. With her short curly hair, dark skin, and modest attire, she was the complete opposite of me. But despite our differences, we had been best friends since childhood.
She supported me in my pursuit of luxury. But she also worried about the consequences of my actions.
“Meera, relax,” I reassured her with a dismissive wave. “It’s just a dress. Besides, I look fabulous, and you know it.”
“Of course you do,” she admitted begrudgingly, her lips curling into a smile. “But you know how people talk, especially in this neighbourhood.”
“Let them talk,” I snapped, my voice laced with frustration. “I’m tired of living by their rules. Why should I hide my beauty just because it makes them uncomfortable?”
“Shamitha, it’s not about hiding your beauty,” Meera tried to reason with me. “It’s about respecting our culture and the values we’ve been raised with.”
“Respect?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Why should I respect a culture that wants me to be invisible? No, Meera, I won’t do it. I refuse to let their judgments hold me back any longer.”
“Okay, Shamitha,” Meera sighed, knowing she couldn’t change my mind. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” I lied, giving her a reassuring smile. But deep down, I knew there was no turning back. My desire for a luxurious life was far stronger than my fear of societal disapproval, and I was willing to do whatever it took to break free from the chains that held me down.
As I stepped out of my house that day, I felt a thrill run through me. I knew I was being watched and judged, but I didn’t care. Instead, I held my head high, my hips swaying. I walked down the narrow alleyways of my lower-middle-class neighbourhood, determined to make a statement.
I was Shamitha, and I would not be silenced. The more I defied societal norms, the more I became the talk of the town. My striking beauty and voluptuous figure were undeniably alluring, and I revelled in the attention they brought me.
Men whispered about my full breasts, curvy hips, and deep navel. Women gossiped about my revealing outfits that clung to every curve. Their envy only fueled my desire for a life of luxury and modernity.
“Did you see Shamitha today?” I heard one woman say to another as I walked by, wearing a body-hugging red dress with a plunging neckline. “She’s just asking for trouble, dressing like that.”
“Maybe she just knows what she wants,” her friend replied, admiration laced in her voice. I smiled to myself, knowing that my bold choices were finally making an impact.
It wasn’t long before my reputation attracted Prakash, the handsome son of a wealthy local businessman. He was everything I had ever dreamed of – tall, dark, and captivatingly charming. Our secret rendezvous began innocently, with stolen glances and coy smiles across crowded marketplaces.
“Shamitha,” he said, his voice soft but commanding during our first meeting in a secluded corner of the park, “You’re different from the other girls in this town. Your confidence and beauty are truly mesmerizing.”
“Thank you, Prakash,” I replied, my cheeks flushing with excitement. “But I have to ask, why pursue someone like me? You could have your pick of anyone in this town.”
“Because I want more than just a pretty face,” he confessed, leaning closer. “I want a woman who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself and chase after her dreams.”
His words ignited a fire, and I knew I couldn’t resist him. We continued to meet secretly, exploring the depths of our desires and fueling each other’s ambitions. Prakash showered me with extravagant gifts, from designer clothes to exquisite jewellery – everything I had ever dreamed of but could never afford.
“Prakash, this is too much,” I protested one day. He placed a stunning diamond necklace around my neck. The cool metal sent shivers down my spine.
“Nothing is too much for you, Shamitha,” he replied, his eyes locked on mine. “You deserve the world, and I’m more than willing to give it to you.”
When we were together, I felt alive, invincible even. But with every stolen kiss and whispered promise, I knew I was playing a dangerous game. My family would never approve of my relationship with Prakash. The thought of being discovered terrified me.
“Shamitha, you need to be careful,” Meera warned me one afternoon as she caught sight of the expensive bracelet adorning my wrist. “People are starting to ask questions.”
“Let them talk,” I said stubbornly, unwilling to let go of the luxurious life finally within my grasp. “I won’t let their judgments control my life any longer.”
“Promise me you’ll be cautious,” Meera pleaded, her concern evident in her eyes.
“I promise,” I lied once again, knowing that my growing interest in Prakash was too strong to resist.
“Prakash, I can’t believe you got this for me!” I exclaimed in sheer disbelief. I held the diamond ring that I had been dreaming about since childhood. It sparkled under the dim lights of the secluded hotel room we had arranged for our secret meeting.
“Anything for you, my love,” Prakash replied smoothly, his eyes filled with desire and admiration.
“Let me thank you properly,” I whispered seductively, gently pushing him onto the bed. My heart raced with anticipation as I knelt between his legs, slowly unzipping his pants. I looked up at him, seeking approval, and he nodded in agreement.
I took him into my mouth. I savoured his taste and texture, feeling a sense of power as he moaned in pleasure. I was determined to show my gratitude and make him happy. With each stroke and swirl of my tongue, I could feel him getting closer to the edge.
“Shamitha… I’m going to…” he gasped, his voice strained with ecstasy.
“Go ahead,” I encouraged, not breaking eye contact. I didn’t want to miss seeing the pleasure on his face when he finally reached the peak of release.
He climaxed, his body tensing and then relaxing. I swallowed his semen, making sure not to waste a single drop. The act was taboo but only fueled my desire for him more.
“Thank you, Shamitha. That was incredible,” he said breathlessly, pulling me up to lie beside him on the bed.
“Thank you for the ring, Prakash,” I replied softly, my fingers tracing circles on his chest. “But we need to be careful. If anyone finds out about us…”
“Let’s just enjoy this moment, my love. We’ll figure everything out later,” he assured me, wrapping his arms protectively.
“Meera, I’m scared,” I confessed the next day. My voice trembled. I recounted the details of my secret relationship with Prakash and our intimate encounter.
“Shamitha, you know how dangerous this is,” Meera responded, her eyes filled with worry. “Your family would never approve, and the consequences could be disastrous.”
“I know, but I can’t help it! The way he makes me feel… It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” I admitted, my heart aching with love and fear. “What should I do?”
“First and foremost, you need to be cautious, Shamitha. Don’t let anyone catch you two together,” Meera advised sternly. “And think long and hard about what you want. You can’t keep leading this double life forever.”
“Shamitha, you need to understand that every action has consequences,” Meera warned me. We sat on the rooftop of my house, sipping tea and looking out over the neighbourhood. “You can’t just keep giving yourself to these men without considering the fallout.”
“Meera, I know what I’m doing,” I responded defensively, though deep down, I knew she was right. My secret relationship with Prakash and the sexual favours I performed for him was risky. But the thrill and the gifts he showered me with made it hard to stop.
“Your family is struggling financially, Shamitha,” Meera continued, her voice filled with concern. “And your actions are only making their hardships worse. People in this neighbourhood gossip constantly about your promiscuous nature. It’s affecting your family’s reputation.”
I swallowed hard, knowing my family bore the brunt of society’s disapproval because of my actions. The whispers and stares my parents received when they went to the market or attended community events were a constant reminder of the shame I brought upon them.
But my desire for luxury and the attention from men like Prakash were too strong to resist.
“Listen, Shamitha,” Meera said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you or your family suffer. You need to think about the long-term effects of your behaviour. It will only lead to more pain and heartbreak for everyone involved.”
“I… I don’t know if I can change, Meera,” I admitted, tears welling up in my eyes. “The temptation is so strong, and the thought of losing everything I’ve gained is terrifying.”
“Change is never easy. But sometimes it’s necessary for our good and the good of those we love,” Meera replied softly. “Think about what truly matters in life. Try to find a balance between your desires and your family’s needs.”
As I sat there, contemplating Meera’s words, I knew she was right. It was time to reevaluate my priorities and make some difficult decisions. My actions hurt my family. If I didn’t change my ways, the consequences could become even more severe.
But the thought of giving up my secret relationship with Prakash and the lifestyle he provided filled me with dread. What would I choose? And could I live with the consequences?
It was a sweltering afternoon when my parents confronted me. The heat of the sun was relentless. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I stood in our small living room, feeling exposed and vulnerable. My mother’s eyes were disappointed and sad, while my father’s gaze held anger and disbelief.
“Shamitha, we have heard some very troubling things about you,” my father began, his voice trembling with emotion. “You know how important our family’s reputation is to us. Yet you’ve been acting inappropriately with these boys.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” I protested, my heart pounding in my chest. But deep down, I knew that they were right. My actions had put our family’s name in jeopardy. I could no longer deny the consequences of my choices.
“Enough, Shamitha!” my mother interjected, her voice cracking with pain. “We can’t bear to see you continue like this. We need to take drastic measures to protect our family.”
“Your mother and I have decided that it would be best if you marry Raghav,” my father announced, his words like a dagger to my heart. “He’s a respectable young man from a faraway city, and marrying him will ensure our family’s reputation remains intact.”
I stared at them in disbelief, unable to accept their decision. How could they force me into a loveless marriage? I had grown accustomed to my life of indulgence and excitement. The thought of leaving it all behind was unbearable.
“Please, don’t do this to me,” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. “I promise I’ll change. Just give me another chance.”
“Shamitha, we’ve given you enough chances,” my mother replied softly, her eyes brimming with tears. “This is for your good.”
My pleas fell on deaf ears, and the days that followed were a blur of wedding preparations. I felt like a puppet being forced to dance to someone else’s tune. My heart was heavy with the weight of my impending marriage.
The wedding day arrived all too soon. I stood before Raghav, dressed in a traditional red bridal saree, my hands adorned with intricate henna designs. The atmosphere was tense. I could feel the eyes of our guests boring into me, silently judging me for my past actions.
“Shamitha, do you take Raghav to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked solemnly.
I hesitated momentarily, my mind racing with thoughts of what my future might hold. Could I really give up my old life and embrace this new one? My throat tightened as I swallowed my fears and whispered, “I do.”
We exchanged garlands and walked around the sacred fire. I couldn’t help but wonder if my past would continue to haunt me. Would I adjust to this new life as Raghav’s wife? Or would the sins of my past catch up with me, threatening to destroy everything I had worked so hard to build?
Only time will tell.
COMMENTS