Revenge of a Woman


The Revanche’

Yugandhar was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth; the only son of Kajal and Kapil Malhotra, the textile magnate. A spoilt brat, he grew up to be a handsome hunk with the perfect, chiselled body that would make gym junkies envious. When he married Nupur Kapoor, there were many broken heartsas she was a beauty and a prized catch. Yet, it was not a marriage of two souls but two business houses. Yug, as he was known, had no feelings for his wife. Both were headstrong, obstinate and reckless. The marriage was very volatile, with fireworks going off all the time.

He lost count of the number of movie stars, models, singers, sportswomen he had laid, since turning fifteen. Now, even after tying the knot, Yug could not control his philandering ways and Nupur hardly cared. He was a jet-setter, flying all over the world and didn’t mind being tagged as a playboy.

Shakti was a guest at the New Year’s bash on his yacht that year which he had on his private yacht, off the Goan coast. When he first laid his eyes on her, she was hanging on to the arm of one of the bigwigs of the corporate world. He was mesmerised by her ethereal beauty, her dark, kohl lined eyes, drawn to her as if hypnotised. He was flirting with her subtly at first and encouraged by the spark of interest in her eyes, he went all out to pursue her.

Nupur was playing the perfect hostess while he focussed his rakish charm on Shakti. He had never had to run after women; he had them falling all over him. But Shakti was an enigma, nobody knew much about her. There was a deep mystery and aura around her, which attracted him further. He asked her for a dance and led her to the dance floor. Holding her close, his fingers on her bare back ran currents of desire, which he further wanted to explore. When she spoke, her soft, sweet voice flowed over him like a tinkling stream down a hill which made him hang on to every word.

If it were any another woman, he would have instantly taken her to his lair and ravished her. But Shakti was an exotic and electrifying enigma; she needed to be handled subtly and then trapped. He used all his saccharine charm and sweet talked her all night. Her date, Rajan Sood, was completely ignored and knew better than to protest.

Shakti seemed to be enjoying all the attention, Yug was giving her. She was nonchalant about his well-known last name. And this kept his interest riveted.Yug kept on reaching out to every wine glass that was being served by the liveried stewards across the ballroom and was drunk within the hour while Shakti , cautiously ,nursed a single glass, taking teeny-weeny sips every time he reminded her to drink.

When it was time for her to leave, he offered to drop her home. The chauffer drove the limousine right up to the doorstep and he got in beside her in the car. The partition between the driver and the passenger seats in the rear was up and Yug bent over to give her an angel kiss on her downcast eyelids. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her rosy pink lips. He was smitten for sure and his ardour couldn’t be restrained anymore but better sense prevailed and he controlled himself; besides, he thought a proper bed would be much more suitable.

They reached her quaint villa at the end of the city; a charming picket fence separating it from the approach road. He got out of the car and held the door open for her. She stepped out on her dainty feet and asked him in for coffee. The path towards the house was canopied with the trailing vines of jasmine. The heavy scent of the flowers was intoxicating and added to his state of arousal. She took the key from her bag and opened the door to an exquisite living-room.

Persian rugs were thrown on the floor with large cushions thrown all over for comfort. She led him to a low seat near the window and went in to the kitchen to make coffee. Even in his drunken state he could see the candle-lit boudoir, which was warm, inviting and a perfect love-nest. Soft, instrumental music played in the background and in one corner, he saw an altar for a Shivalingam. Shakti came back holding a wooden tray with mugs of coffee. He took a mug but was in no mind to sip off it. He would rather drink from her lips! He pulled her down beside him and started planting tiny kisses on her neck. He moved her satiny long hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck while she arched her back.

Shakti moved her fingers up to his shirt and started unbuttoning each, leisurely. She trailed, feathery kisses on his chest while opening each button.Yug was now breathing heavily, totally aroused but for a change he was submissive and succumbed to her ministrations. She undressed him slowly, while her hot kisses made a trail of fire, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Yug was completely under her spell and imagined that she was a Goddess who had wafted down to lift him to the heights of sensual bliss.

Shakti slipped out of her clothes in a second and stood naked over him. He had never seen a more bewitching sight. He was enchanted and excited in anticipation about an out of the world experience. Shakti was well versed in the arts of pleasure, and almost blew him out of the planet, putting him through the slow paces of tantric pleasure which was known to very few people in the universe. She took a drop of aroma oil and massaged his shoulders and ran her fingers till the end of his spine; Yug could no longer contain himself in that drunken state. The rhythmic movements lasted just a couple of minutes as he fell on top of her satiated and exhausted in a drunken stupor.  She slipped off his body, stood up and dressed emotionlessly and looked down upon him.

This was the first of many nights, spent in orgies of unending exploration of unhibited sex.Yug could not stay away from her for long and took her along on his travels too. They became an inseparable pair, cleverly dodging the eyes of the prying media and his wife.  She was like a strong dose of ecstasy and much more intoxicating than any drug he had ever used, the psychedelic sparks igniting him. He was hooked and how!

A couple of months later, they were in a private villa in Goa, when she ran a bath for him in the tub. Scented bath-salts rose petals and aromatic candles adding to the allure. The night was young but he was already drunk. She led him to the bubbly bath and he followed her faithfully. She undid his robe and slowly steered him into the bath. She also slipped out of her satin night gown and joined him. She bathed him while he lay languorously intoxicated with the ambiance, the drinks and of course her supernatural touch. He was like a blob of clay which she could mould any which way. After a couple of hours she had to literally haul him to the bed as he was completely exhausted with the prolonged nuances of tantric sexual endeavours.

He sprawled on the bed on his back, his limbs akimbo and fell into a deep slumber. Shakti stood over him and listened to his light snoring. She reached into her bag, her fingers enclosing around the carved sheath. The sharp, shiny steel blade glistened in the dark. She walked towards the bed and with one swift, svelte movement of her hand; she sliced his Adam’s apple with the sharp dagger. Her proficiency with the weapon was flawless. The nonchalant way she went through it, proved that it surely wasn’t her first. There was no sign of emotion on her face or any remorse about killing. He writhed violently for a few seconds and then lay still. She looked at him for a fleeing moment and moved towards the door quickly, making a soundless exit.

Shakti was a tall, thin and gawky girl in her teens when her parents, Shivnarain and Gauri Singh were brutally killed right before her eyes by a psychopath, who was obsessed with her mother. Shakti had been a silent witness to the murders. Now that she was an orphan, her bachelor, maternal uncle, Brahmakanth took her under his fold. He wanted to avenge his sister and brother-in-law’s murders but had no clue about the psychopath. He began by eliminating every influential man who did not respect women. He was a staunch Shaivite and put Shakti through the tantric traditions. By the time she was sixteen, she was an accomplished Tāntrika (follower of the Tantras in Shaivism), having been put through the paces by none other than Guru Rudradev of Brahmanagar, a consummate propagator of Shaivasiddhanta.

Shakti spent four of her teenage years, mastering all kinds of Tantra – from gospel to sex to annihilation of life. She was a formidable combination of beauty and raw energy, grace and viciousness, svelte body with a heartless soul. A bachelor by choice, Brahmakanth found the perfect weapon in Shakti and moulded her as a potter would shape a lump of clay. He had chalked out a long agenda for Shakti. When she mastered all the tricks of feminine wiles and became adept in all the art forms of dine, dance, music and slaying ; (a lethal package of beauty with vile intentions), she was let out on her prey by her uncle and mentor. He was a member of an international tantric cult named Kali. Shakti was trained like a geisha, who titillates the senses before fulfilling all kinds of erotic fantasies in bed.

It was very simple indeed for Shakti, to go after the hedonistic men in Brahmakanth’s list and destroy them. Yug was her sixth victim, falling for her mystic charm. She put them all through the same paces by feeding them, lip-smacking, finger food laced with aphrodisiacs (Rudradev’s concoctions), soft music to which she gyrated sensuously in dimly-lit rooms, white satiny bedspread, sprinkled with crimson red rose petals and scented candles floating in tiny crystal bowls that reflected the flame like a thousand twinkling stars. It was like the proverbial instance of fattening the calf.The perfect setting to show off her prowess in Tantric sex; Shakti had them eating out of her hand.

Spreading her bottled up Kundalini energy and transferring it into them, Shakti fired the passions of the men, always taking them to the peak of long full-bodied orgasms after which she passed them on to Tantra Samadhi (state of ultimate bliss). Even the most hardened of her targets would be guarded in the first few encounters but would eventually succumb to her devotion and the journey of pleasure exhausted them into a stupor. That’s when Shakti swooped down like an eagle on its prey.

Yug’s death made breaking news on TV channels. The rumour mills went wild with theories about the murderer and the motive. The media swarmed the villa and its vicinity, going over it with a tooth comb, asking anybody and everybody for nuggets of information about the events preluding the well-orchestrated murder. Nobody had seen or heard anything and so the police was clueless about the killer or the motive for the murder. The killer had not left even a minute clue and his murder and so many of her other victims were unsolved mysteries.

Shakti, carrying a small bag, headed towards the international airport and her next prey .Draped in a sunny, yellow chiffon sari and her face glowing like a thousand stars, she was headed to Dubai, where her next victim the Sheikh Abdullah-al-Sabah was going about his daily routine, blissfully ignorant of the fate that awaited him.


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