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Chapter 27 - The Silence Before the Storm

There is a moment between breath and moan.Between surrender and scream.That moment is stillness.

And Rekha had built her life inside it.

She hadn't spoken in three days.Not a word.Not even a sound while she came.

Her orgasms now were silent prayers —mouth open, body trembling, but lips refusing to break the air.

The women around her grew unnerved.

Their Devi was no longer wild.No longer commanding.She was still, like a storm about to break but choosing not to.

One night, Rekha lay on her belly, naked on the floor.The tiles were cool against her breasts.Her legs spread slightly.A small diya burned near her feet.

No one else was in the room.

Just her.Her cunt.And the absence she had come to worship.

She closed her eyes.

Felt the tingle return — low in her stomach, rising into her ribs.

It wasn't lust.It was presence.

Beloved wasn't there.

But his shadow was.And she knew shadows better than faces now.

She reached back slowly, brushing her own folds.They were swollen, tender, slightly aching from days without release.

She circled her clit once.

Twice.

Three times.

And stopped.

Her eyes opened.

There was someone in the hallway.

She didn't need to see them.She felt it — a breathing that didn't belong to the fan.A warmth that didn't belong to the diya.

Rekha stood.

Naked, glistening with sweat, she walked to the door.

She opened it.

And saw no one.

But the scent lingered.Jasmine and copper.

And something else.

Something... masculine.Not aggressive.Not intrusive.

Just there.

She stepped into the hallway, her breasts bouncing gently with each step.Unashamed.She walked down the corridor —toward nothing —but expecting everything.

Behind her, the diya blew out.

The next morning, the Sabha gathered.

Seema arrived first.Eyes tired.Hair wild.Her body draped in a sheer cotton saree, no blouse.

"Where is she?" one of the women asked.

Seema didn't answer.

Rekha appeared an hour later.Not walking.Floating.

Or so it seemed.

Her body shimmered with oil.Every inch of her looked kissed by absence.

She didn't speak.

Just climbed onto the central bed.Laid back.

And opened her legs.

The women stared.

No one moved.

Then — Rekha reached for something under the pillow.A mirror.

She placed it between her thighs, angled upward.Then took a thick red lipstick and wrote directly above her cunt:

"Do not touch unless you're already inside me."

Silence.

The room stayed frozen.

Then Seema walked forward.

Tears in her eyes.She knelt.

Pressed her forehead to Rekha's foot.

And whispered:

"Speak. Please. Just one word. Let me know you're still in there."

Rekha touched her face gently.

Then leaned forward and placed a single kiss on her cheek.

Still no words.

The room grew heavier.

The air was thick.

Suddenly — the door creaked.

Everyone turned.

A man stood there.

Not Beloved.Not a stranger.

Someone... familiar.

A neighbor.

Quiet. Married. A schoolteacher.

He looked ashamed.Scared.

But erect.

His eyes locked onto Rekha.

And she... smiled.

No words.

She pointed at the ground in front of her.Then at his lips.Then at her thigh.

The message was clear:

Crawl.Kiss.Pray.

He obeyed.

Dropped to his knees.

Crawled.

Kissed her inner thigh.Once.Twice.

Then pulled back.

His eyes welled up.

"I've never wanted to sin so beautifully," he whispered.

Rekha ran her fingers across his lips.Then pushed two fingers into her own mouth.

She moaned — silent.

He understood.

He stood up and left.

The women stared.

Seema trembled.

The world was tilting.

Rekha no longer needed permission.She was the permission.

That night, she didn't sleep.

She sat in front of the mirror.

The same lipstick message still above her cunt.

And she stared.

Stared for hours.

Until finally... she whispered a single word:

"Enough."

Then moaned.

Loud.

Deep.

And came.

Not from touch.Not from worship.

But from decision.

She was ready to be taken.

Again.

By him.

By the storm.

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