☘︎𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢’𝔰 𝔞 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 ☘︎

‘Mohtarma’

One pair of glass perfume bottles shatter in front of his feet, the light reddish and transparent liquids merge with each other, and start to vanish under his feet. But he doesn’t bulge.

His charming smile turns into a jaw clench. The single change of tone of pronouncing ‘Mohtarma’ makes her shiver.

But she maintains her frame from shaking, and pulls all the courage to yell on his face, “You lost the right to call me that.”

He collects a small sharp piece of glass from the floor, and brushes his forefinger on the edge of it, the little drop of blood is trying to drop from the finger to the floor. “One day, you will beg for it, Mohtarma’

She yells frustratedly, “I will prefer to die rather than begging you.”

He averts his gaze from the glass piece to her frame, which is shaking in rage in the corner of the huge bedroom. He chuckles, “I like the tip…. Hmmm from this corner to the door. Amazing. Tell me your talents in one go, cutie”

She makes her grip more tighten, “Stop playing around me. You can’t lock me in this room for the rest of my life, either I will escape from your hell or I will die."

He takes two steps, a steady one, a dangerous one, which makes her push her back more into the wall, “Main aapke liye iis naarak ko bhi swarg bana sakta hu. Mohtarama, kya aap mujhse dar rahi hain?”

“I will make sure to make this hell to heaven for you. Are you scared of me, Mohtarma?’

She points her forefinger, “Darungi nehi to aur kya karungi? Aap ki aarti chadau ki aap mujhe kidnap karke iha leke aaye.”

“or what will I do? Worship you as you kidnapped me?”

He brushes his finger into his black silky hair, “Didn’t you want it just 29 hours ago.”

She drops her head back a little forcefully and growls, “Chadra, my life is always that kind of frustrated, that doesn’t mean I want it in real..”

He pushes the small pieces of glass aside under the round glass tea table, and with a most simple sweet smile, looks at her, “You need an escape from that cage, Jaan, I am just helping you.”

She waves her hand roughly which makes the vase drop on the floor, “Stop treating me as an object, transferring me from one cage to another cage?? How it will help my situation, Chandra.”

He takes two more steps, while putting the right hand on his left chest, “Aoucch, Mohtarma, agar aap aise mujhe naam se pukarenge to bohot dard hota hai, sahi mai...”

“Aoucch, Mohtarma, it hurts when you call me by my name.”

She points her finger towards her, “Please stop this nonsense. You were never disrespectful towards me, what happened to you, Chandra.” A little sob wobbles in her throat, making her voice a little shaky.

He doesn’t stop taking his steps, until the distance between two bodies screams a respectful tension between them. As their body parts aren't touching each other, neither their breath is mixing with each other, but close enough to activate the magnet pull which she is trying to decline from the very beginning.

His dark black hole eyes sink on the chocolaty pool of her eyes. He dreams of being lost in her eyes, last two years. And it’s the second time, he can focus into her eyes, the black hole of those dark chocolate eyes, pulling all his soul into her. He can give up easily, which is just opposite his character, but for her, he is ready to beg on his knees.

But not now.

He tried begging, and realised how one can’t get anything by begging. Every single thing needs, deserves an action to achieve that.

Just like that, he waits for a perfect time, to take swift action and get her into his embrace.

But he didn’t think that she would turn her face away from him. Whatever he did, just for the ‘Us’, she couldn’t avoid the fact.

He isn’t in politics and business at such a young age, just by showing his face. He never used his power, his dominating aura over her. He never wanted to scare her, but if the situation asks for it, he will never think twice.

But his heart still beats.

She is his first love.

Shayeri always says, first love anyway means to teach your uncontrolled heart a lesson. That for immature kids, right.

But he believes she is the only firefly in his darkest life.

He believes she is the shade of red colour on his grey to black shaded palate.

Her eyes roam around his face. She wanted to admire it almost every night. The way he added life in her healed stone-heart. The way he made her believe, there’s nothing first love or second love. With the growing age, the definition of love starts to revolve around everything. And everytime your healed soul falls in love with the person, with the new perspective of life, and that’s the first time indeed.

The unhealthy time, she imagined herself in his warm embrace and wanted to live in the present forgetting the past and the future. She wanted to hear his whispers while absorbing the heat of his warm breath. She wanted to hug him so badly.

But like always, the situation ruined everything, leaving her in a mud puddle. She wanted to run from the situation, she wanted to get lost in a narrow walkway of green forest, she wanted to go somewhere like the dry leaf on the aggressive flow of the river.

She dreamed about it. She just dreamed, knowing in reality it is bitter more than those fever medicines. She has a responsibility she can't ignore. She had a threat she couldn’t ignore.

Otherwise why would she allow herself to break one’s heart, when she knew, it’s his first love, how he was confused about his feelings initially before realising it’s the love.

She hadn’t any way other than to accept her fate, because she is a coward, coward enough to not take any step further. She knew, she is living in a cage, which is named as Love, but it’s suffocating her. Yes, she agreed, what he did, just in the thought of good for her, to live the rest of their life with love.

The only presence of him, this close, where sometimes she can smell the musky fragrance of his perfume, her soul is getting peace, but her heart beats crazily.

He knew, she is just an open book, reading what’s going on in her mind is the easiest task ever, the way she put efforts to type messages just she used to miss him and couldn't wait to meet him or sending letters. Everyday he used to get long long letters with her beautiful handwriting and her hot red lipstick mark. But looking at her eyes, the silent words, he is just getting the pull of wrapping his hands around her body, and sucking her soul from between her lips.

His eyes flicker towards her lips and come back to her eyes with the mental fight to notice her eyes are stuck on his lips.

He whispers, “Aap ekbar Janab kehkar pukariye mujhe, Jaan, aap ki muh se sunna chahte hai”

She looks at his eyes, before turning her head outside the window, where only darkness like black ink is visible, “Either way drop me at my home, or leave me here alone.”

He puts his finger under her chin, which made him realise, the chin is wobbling to control the sob, not to break down in front of him, “Mohtarma, listen to me.”

She snaps her head towards him, and groans, “I am warning you for the last time, stop calling me that. Just stop it.”

The rage clicks the last barrier of the control, he grabs her nape in fraction of second and pulls her closer to his face, just where two ways of warm breath are colliding with each other. One breath is hitched, and another one is just proving dominance with rage.

He whispers above her lips, “What if I call you, doll? My innocent doll”

Her heart literally stops beating for a second. The way he called her doll, the pure toxic obsession.

He continues, “You are just an innocent doll, I own you, your pure soul, your soft heart, your innocent smile, everything, your everything just belongs to me. No one in this world can snatch you from me.”

The hate towards the word ‘own’ just works like petrol in the fire. She wants to raise her hand to give a tight slap on his cheek, but her soul accepts her defeat when his lips roughly land over hers.

Her lips vanish into his, just like a last piece of the big puzzle. The tiny layer of muscle of her lips has the power of its own. They dare to reply back to his toughest kiss, the way she could only imagine her written jealous male lead can do with the female lead.

In this story, she also could accept the sadistic female lead, who can find out the love, the pleasure in between this roughness. But she is even allowed to do that in her own written story, just when both have the same passion towards each other and the heat rises from both sides on its own. Not the forceful body reaction implemented as she has permission to toy with her body.

She puts her both hands on his chest to push him as much as strength she has after training karate for the last four years. The tanned muscled fully built body in front of her is nothing, doesn’t react much as she wanted, but enough to make him flinch and break the kiss.

She yells, “Do you know, what are you doing currently?? The great politician Chandra Sekhar Rathor is molesting a girl in his hidden mansion somewhere in between a forest, in a hidden corner of India.”

His soft pleasured eyes turn into sharp eagle eyes. The veins of his neck, and his forearms become visible like just a paper cut is enough to see how fast blood is now running through them.

She dares to ignore the fiery gaze of him, and continues to yell, “I am not your pleasure toy, if you want some, call them, they will earn some money, they need it. I am not your fucking doll.”

Before she can understand what happens to her, she just feels her body hitting the softness of the bed just like she is a ping pong ball.

He takes off his tee in one go, and doesn't care to rip it off. The single word ‘molest’ is hitting all the nerves of his body very badly. He puts his both knees, both sides of her thighs, to cage her frame. He roars, “Do you know what the molest word means? Do you know how those girls felt when they were molested? If you want to name my love as molestation, do you want to feel it by yourself, Mohtarma Sahiba?”

The fear instantly takes the place into her eyes, she has faith in him that he never disrespect her, but without her consent it’s the second time he kissed her. First time, surely she felt it romantic, but not this time, not in this heated moment.

She hated herself for those few moments when she lost her sanity and kissed him back. But that’s a simple body reaction of a heated kiss from him.

But the way his eyes are now looking like burning coals, she doesn’t confirm herself, he wouldn’t do any harm to her.

The loud gasp escaped from her mouth the moment she saw how he snatched the dupatta from her neck, which wasn’t in the perfect place before. But the point is, with just a flicker, he moved her both hands above her head, and he was busy tying them together.

In a swift reaction, her body wiggles under his tall toned body frame. She tries to say no, wants to scream, but her voice is on leave.

After tying her wrists properly, he looks at her eyes again, “I wanted to see only love in your eyes, only for me. But today you make me see the fear in your eyes, and from now on, it will be my favourite thing to watch, my Jaan.”

He grabs both of her knees, and pulls her leg in front of his body, which makes her legs bend on knees on her belly. He grabs the ankles and places both her feet on his naked chest, the most nastiest words escape from his mouth in the calm seductive tone, “Aise aap bahut acchi dikh rahi hai, abhi kapde hai, khaabhi moka mile to bina kapde ki bhi dekh lenge. Aur pata hai na, aapko ji, mai moke ka intezaar nehi karta, khud moka taiwar kar leta hai…”

“You are looking gorgeous in this position, even with clothes. If I get a chance, I will definitely love to see you without any piece of cloth, just in the same position. By the way, you know me, I don’t wait for a chance, I create the damn chance.”

She shivers, she feels vulnerable, she is helpless. Her hands are tied above her head, her feet can feel the slightest muscle movement of his chest, and the death grip of his hands on ankles. But those are not hurting her in any way. But the words. The words are like bullets, making her heart bleed.

Her eyes automatically fill with tears, she closes her eyes and turn her head to left side and with the little sob, words come out, “Aap agar khabhi bhi mujhe galat tarikhe se chune ki kosish ki, agle din aap mere laash ke saath soye honge.”

“If you ever try to touch me the wrong way, the next day you will be sleeping with my dead body.”

Suddenly the tingling sounds cut down the thickest air of the heavy words in the room.

She turns her face to look at him. In that situation, anklets!! Seriously??

With a care he ties the anklets around her ankles, while the feet are positioned over his chest. The tingling sounds create the different out of track rhythm of the relation equation of these two persons.

He tangles his forefinger of both hands on each anklet, and makes the metal pinch on her soft skin, “Aap ke haar baato ka hisab hoga meri jaan. Jaab aap ek tarsa mujhe dekhne kiliye tarpenge…”

“Everything will be counted whatever you say, my love. When you yearn to see me for a long time...”

She lost the last drop of patience, seeing how a devilish smile is playing on his face where the words sound so calm. He is a manipulator. She realised how the whole time he manipulated her to keep her as his innocent doll!!!

She snaps back, “Aur kitne baar mujhe aapko batana padega, mai aapka intezaar iss jindegi mai hargis nehi karne wala”

“And how many times do I have to tell you, I am not going to wait for you in this life.”

He chuckles, “Ann-hmm Mohtarma, aapki hindi aabhi taaq nehi sudhri … it will be wali… karne wali”

“Ann-hmm Mohtarma, your Hindi has not improved yet… it will be wali… karne wali.”

She wiggles her body in the rage, “Fuck you and your hindi grammer”

He puts his lips over her both feet one by one and places them on bed, “Very soon. Aapke farman mera sarkhon par...”

“Very soon. Your orders are above my head..”

She tries to kick her legs in the air, all her senses just cross the edge of vanishing. His smirk wider than necessary, “Jo kariyega sochke kariyega”

“Whatever you do, do it after thinking.”

He silently leaves the bed and goes towards the door and the panic raises into her. She is helpless, she tries to lift her body, but a painful scream escapes with some words, “You can’t do this to me Chandra. Open my hands.”

He opens the door but before leaving he speaks up which sounds foreign in her ears, “Don’t trigger the revenge word in my politician blood. You deserve a little punishment, my doll. Just recall the words you told me, and think, howlittle this punishment is. Anyway you mastered overthinking. By the way, just because The Chandra Sekhar Rathor is madly in love with his Mohtarma Sahiba.”