Kanmani

Author's Note: An underlying theme in this tale is reluctance, but it doesn't fall under non-consent theme. Thus I'm posting it in loving wives category. Still if you don't approve or adore sexual reluctance, please avoid reading it.

The story is a pure work of fiction, all characters and events in this tale are fictitious. Although, human imagination is also influenced by external stimuli. In the case of author— someone has always served as an inspiration to my mind. So, the story is again dedicated to her... heart unfold before whom, like a flower.

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Synopsis: A young Indian lady defying intense sexual attraction towards a heartless man embarked on a long and hard journey. In her quest of not succumbing to sinful lust, she paid every price. However, all her resistance and sacrifices went in vain, when she started loving her defeat.

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As long as nothing happens between them, the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened. A 30-year-old lady — Kanmani was trying hard to underplay these recurrent thoughts, on a chanced meeting with an Arab tycoon — who had her in Hello, five years ago.

She knew her desperate journey to a foreign land, in search of her missing husband won't be a hunky-dory — but she never thought this expedition would put her panty in jeopardy — again. The more she looked at him or tried not to look at him, the more she grasped that this fatal attraction or dreadful suffering wasn't solely her fault. He was damn sexy, actually.

The Arab He-Man — Prince Ayaan-bin-Haider-bin-etc had a kind of face that made her think of dirty things even in temples. True, he was into his early 50s, but still so muscular — without giving the impression that he worked out. Perhaps he was an oarsman. Or it could be tennis. Perhaps he chopped down trees. Kanmani had this sudden and inexplicably strong desire to watch Ayaan rowing his boat or quickly chop a few trees for her.

Wishful thinking is one thing — reality another. And the ironic reality of her life was that Ayaan wrecked her life after their 1st meeting. Kanmani can never escape the memories of that meeting. Perhaps some memories are like dark chocolates — bitter, yet addictive — so were the memories of that starry night.

The delicate moonlight on that night had just turned the world a-flame with silver when Ayaan approached her for the first time. It was a lavish dinner party celebrating her fathers' business success. As a curse of beauty — her sculpted figure drew Ayaan's fatal attention. She was just looking like a sin in a long skirl. Her curvilinear waist didn't surprise Ayaan as much as the saffron tint to her wheatish complexion.

Her crescent-shaped eyebrows inclined slightly as she saw Ayaan staring at her. He smiled at her wickedly, and her languid eyelashes of velvet-black blinked once slowly. She caught herself blushing and rubbed her neck, needlessly.

When he came closer, Ayaan noticed every curve on her body from brow to ankle, an exact match to his kinks. Kanmani nuzzled him with her nose and her luminous, heavenly-white teeth flashed. Her every expression felt like it tugged at another string in his balls.

Kanmani didn't want to smile or blushes like a silly schoolgirl, but it was all happening on its own, as is she has lost control over her reflexes. In his closeness stars above glowed large like street-lamps. Each one was more of a sallow yellow orb than a brilliant pin-prick of white. She almost felt like being drugged in his closeness. Kanmani never had such a sudden and intense sexual attraction to any other man that she felt towards him.

It's not that Kanmani was a bitchy kind of girl— it's just perhaps one can't force chemistry to exist where it doesn't. In the same way — one can't deny it when it does. So, that night had inherited their natural chemistry with an intense sinful orientation.

"Sit on my lap, baby — it's your throne and I'll make you a queen of delight," Ayaan made an indecent proposal in his rude haughtiness — presuming he can buy anyone and everyone with hoards of his wealth — with his killer charms.

Kanmani sat — but on a chair opposite to him, which brought her eye to eye with this filthy prince. For a young girl like Kanmani, who drove her values and lifestyle from an orthodox Tamil background — his proposal was as radical, as asking dry leaves to fly like butterflies. Her deep black eyes and light brown skin both were burning — in contempt — in lust.

"No, thanks...!" retorted Kanmani, "I'm not a plaything — Mr. whoever," whispered Kanmani in a quivering voice, before stomping off.

Kanmani didn't give him an inch, but his manly charms bothered her. She didn't like things that upset her — which is why she was licensed to shoot most things that disturbed her. Unfortunately, humans were not on the list and sexual attraction was not considered a valid reason to shoot someone.

Another reason or a good inspiration to resist the irresistible temptation like Ayaan was love. Kanmani was freshly in love with her college sweetheart— Anil. Love is such a dramatic emotional force that it degrades all rival feelings, but love has very little to do with reason.

Though it's only intelligent people who make decisions on opportunity cost — Kanmani preferred Anil on emotions and paid the cost of her irrationality — when Ayaan hit back. And he struck hard on her dad, and family. Breaking the business partnership, Ayaan destroyed her dad's old family business — leaving him in debt — on a hospital bed.

Young and ambitious Kanmani with her prudent mother could fight with any challenge, but she lost her strength. Being loved by someone gives us strength, but her lover Anil chickened out — when threatened to death by Ayaan to walk away from her life.

Not only Anil — Ayaan covertly ensured that every decent family who would seek her hand for their son is just put in place.

Kanmani was smashed, yet she stood in dignity — a thousand glittering fragments, and each testifying — she was not a purchasable commodity. Life has a cruel mechanism to rent out unusable stuff.

Thus, a year later — Kanmani got married to Karan — an incompetent protégée of her dad, who stood an inch shorter and a decade older than Kanmani. Karan's age had qualified him to be a sugar daddy. However, he was hopelessly naïve and dreadfully pessimistic about life. Whereas, Kanmani was a tremendously vital person, interested in everything and everybody, in contrast to Ayaan's apparent indifference to anything except when he is going to get his next drink. Besides, soon Karan turned out to be as poor in bed — as in business.

What Kanmani had got at the cost of mighty Ayaan was too rueful. Yet, she tried to make lemonade out of the rare lemon life had offered her in this hopeless marriage. In a way, she developed feelings towards her husband. After all, he was the one who dared to marry her, despite all the odds.

Karan too loved her, but for him, Kanmani was too fascinating a dream — to dream. He could never conceive himself at par in this relation. Things soon lasted in a dark and long ally.

But suddenly and mysteriously things took a dazzling turn. Her dad found a huge 'mysterious' investment. With the help of some covert sleeping partner, their family business picked up marvelously from the verge of bankruptcy. Karan started affording her a better home, a new car, the jewelry, and clothes— every young lady adores. The success dramatically also boosted his self-esteem. But happy moments were as short-lived in Kanmani's life — as Karan's libido.

Her dad with his new partner was soon lured into establishing a new branch of their business abroad. He sent Karan there to manage an overseas business. To her mind, this would enable Karan to grow in self-esteem beyond her father's shadow. But, this was when Kanmani saw Karan last.

The soon Karan went abroad — all those mysterious investments also fled. Their domestic business crashed within months — next month Karan broke the same disastrous news about their foreign business.

For the past two years, Kanmani was waiting for him — for his earnings. There was no clue to this mystery debacle of their foreign business — till Kanmani finally decided to visit Karan.

She embarked on the journey, wondering why Karan had vanished. But, onboarding the plane a big surprise came when Kanmani found the entire business class empty.

"Of season...?" exclaimed Kanmani to an air-hostess "is this why your airline sold me business class tickets at normal rates?"

"The prince...!" replied the air-hostess, with a mysterious blush, "the prince has booked the entire business class, Ma'am."

And there arrived the filthy prince himself. The prince — Ayaan-bin-Haider.

Kanmani felt the seat next to her cracking under his weight. Suddenly Kanmani felt the temperature in the airplane shooting above 50, as his warm gaze fell on her.

Kanmani was not the same woman he remembered from last time. Her eyes peered out through a wild tangle of hair like those of a cornered animal. Defiant and intense, but skittering around looking for escape at the same time. She was no more a living wet dream who robbed his sleep— still strikingly attractive. Though, Kanmani had played it down by wearing no make-up, a loose-fitting vintage dress, and flat sandals.

"Why ruining in mourning...?" Ayaan inquired in a sad voice, "gloom is eroding your sultry charms, baby."

"Just don't even pretend to wear mask of empathy...!" retorted Kanmani bitterly.

"All right. Then let me wear you—everyone says you suit me, well," replied Ayaan, with a vicious smile.

Kanmani didn't reply, but she felt his demanding gaze will melt her. Ayaan had an intense way of looking at her, the undercurrent of a smile hidden in his dark grey eyes. The slightly predatory way his gaze sweeps over her that brought a flush to her skin— that made her throat dry.

"Let's pretend for a moment that you find me sexy..." Ayaan made a proposition in his trademark husky voice, "Let's pretend for an hour that your very virtue is sorely threatened at this very moment."

"You're sexy..." Kanmani scoffed, "but imagining anything about you is like daydreaming a nightmare."

She had managed to dent his big ego again, but deep down she supposed the only thing worse than being pursued by a sinfully sexy, manipulative rake could be — to fell on his strong shoulders and cry.

"I can fuck you here, bitch— but I want you to submit this body of rose petals ..." replied Ayaan with a conviction of a soothsayer. "And you will. You're destined to die over my Arabian cock."

"No tax on daydreaming, Mr.," retorted Kanmani with a triumphant smile.

It was amazing that Kanmani could sport the smile a woman might wear in the sultry aftermath of lovemaking. Very few women possessed such effortless sensuality — a natural provocation to challenge male authority without saying a word — yet she was immune to its harm.

"Bitch..." replied Ayaan with a frown. Her smile disturbed him. Yet he liked her for fearlessness, as well as the layer of vulnerability beneath.

The soon Kanmani rose to leave the business class — grabbing her waist in his strong fist, Ayaan slammed her beautiful ass right in his laps. The very burning lap, where he invited her to sit —years ago.

"Leave me..." her voice muffled against his marble chest, "don't embarrass yourself, please. Just leave me."

"I will fuck you, little arrogant bitch. I will fuck, until I can feel that sweet little pussy clenching around my big fat cock," he whispered in her ear with a conviction of a soothsayer.

To her mortification, Kanmani felt a massive rigid erection under her like a new island is erupting in the ocean. She was still half-afraid to admit it's an erection. Despite the immense urge to slap him, or get her freed, Kanmani couldn't. Sitting on the tip of the volcano, Kanmani felt menaced. Part of her was paralyzed with apprehension—dismayed by her lack of bravery — and also by the sheer magnitude of Ayaan's body.

Then all at once he caught her hand, as if he could stand it no longer, and guided it down the tight grid of his belly, between the ridges of his hips. Kanmani gasped in shock when he dragged her hand up and down, up and down. Her eyes flew wide.

Ayaan's monster, still caged in his pants, was not the play-thing of a boy, not the weapon of a man—but a maypole of so enormous a standard that had proportions been observed. It must have belonged to a giant beast. Its prodigious size made her shrink. Yet she could not, without pleasure, behold, and even ventured to feel, such a length, such a breadth of animated ivory!

"Leave me or I'll shout," cried Kanmani—concealing her moan.

Those were the hardest few moments in her life on the verge of succumbing to his lust. She was achingly on the verge of giving in to him. Aware of the hardness in her fingers, of the steely flex of hard muscle about her. Of her tightly furled nipples pressed hard to the wall of his chest; of the burning wetness between her tightly closed legs. Never in her life, had Kanmani needed to starve her focus, to feed distraction.

And there she found a distraction in his eyes — in his eyes, he had the look of the cat—who only inspires a desire to caress but loves no one, who never feels he must respond to the impulses he arouses.

"Dare you to win a woman's heart with your all might? — loser!!" Kanmani dented his big ego, glaring in his eyes.

And her ploy worked to save her chastity, as Ayaan tossed her back on an empty seat.

Kanmani had resisted him again, declining whatever he offered amid the journey. His sexy charms — the immense lust that every pore of his body emitted — expensive gifts he presented, she declined everything. However, under that iron shield, she kept wondering throughout the journey how he can make her wet with his gaze alone, and she kept praying for the journey to last soon.

Cajoled by her willpower, she landed on airport. But she had to catch a cab since her dear hubby didn't bother to receive her at the airport. Just when she was getting inside a local cab, Ayaan stopped by her in his brand new Ferrari.

"All your good deeds are for the wrong reason..." said Ayaan with grim face, "but remember, wherever you will meet your God— you will find me in temptations...!"

"I know..." replied Kanmani with a teasing smile, "free cheese is always there in every mouse trap."

Kanmani watched furious Ayaan storming off the airport. It took her hours to spot Karan, hiding in a slum. The sight was so hurting when she entered a small one bedded dirty apartment. Karan's hand was over his eyes. He looked like a defeated soldier—ill and thin, living another day to lick his wounds.

"I've lost everything, Kanmani. Every penny — every hope..." without any pleasantries, Karan just broke this news on her, more like a warning, "some shrewd bastard has grilled me into a debt trap. I can't even leave the country."

Karan's poor health and other news were enough to break her back and return home. But Kanmani was a fighter — every moment for her was a fresh start. She knew there are no pearls to be found from the dark folds of life, except to make progress with her family.

"Why so unlucky baby — when I'm with you?" inquired Kanmani to boast Karan.

She spent the entire month in the care of her husband, putting this little house in order and in finding a reasonable job to get Karan out of this debt trap. But some mysterious force was still conspiring against her. Despite her good educational background, and intelligence, Kanmani couldn't find a single good job. Thrice in a month some good firms mysteriously backed off, after serving her a job offer letters. Equally, Kanmani failed in igniting a single spark in Karan's heart — in his balls.

A tiny apartment in a dirty neighborhood, a debt trap with no money, and Karan's aliment — life couldn't be any worse for this. Kanmani only found a minor job as a salesgirl in a big shopping mall, that too on a commission basis. But to her surprise, by the end of each day, one or other "mysterious" customers would walk to her and she would make a very good commission.

One rainy night after a very hectic day she returned home with her purse full of her first earnings, and her eyes with anew hopes.

But he was already there..!

His thundering voice was echoing all over her apartment block, and his voice had gathered a neighborly crowd at her door. For a moment Kanmani froze in fear. Her fear than boiled into anger and she stormed inside to rescue her hubby. But little she knew that anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

"Give me my money or your sexy wife," the architect of chaos — Ayaan-bin-Haider, right inside her home was roaring on Karan. It was but not those lecherous threats that freeze Kanmani. What shocked her spirit... like the vibration of a bell was — the gutless surrender of her husband.

"You can keep this house, and my money...but your wife is mine." said Ayaan, with a wicked smile, licking his red lips.

Ayaan then looked at her with a pause like corked soda-water to fly towards her and then asked, "Deal guys...win-win?"

For Kanmani life was always a matter of waiting, but waiting for Karan's reply were most critical moments in her life. Part of her felt like she is waiting for something, which is never going to happen.

"I'm sorry Kanmani," said Karan after a long pause. His voice was as thin shrill voice, as the cry of an expiring mouse, and he started to leave the room.

"What Karan...?" cried Kanmani, in disbelief, "How can you leave me with this vulture to pay your debt?"

"Yes. Your hubby is surrendering your million-dollar body for me, bitch..." said Ayaan roughly pulling her in his brawny arms around her, "I will collect whatever he owes me. Whatever you own." His big palm scratching her bare midriff traveled down and firmly clutched her beautiful ass checks, right in front of her husband.

Karan stood there helpless ... as the blind, till vision blurred in his wet eyes, and he silently left the apartment.

Despite all of her shock and contempt, Kanmani felt her body acting Ayaan's arm just like butter acts in a frying pan. Ayaan's head bent over hers — Kanmani could feel the rush of his unsettled exhalations. The hairs on his marble chest were not flat and straight, but softly curling. She wanted to brush her nose and lips across them. He smelled of soap, male skin, clean earth, and meadow grass. Every breath of him made her feel warm in places that hadn't been warm in years.

Kanmani felt lost and confused, angry, and aroused. Just like a ball of tangled yarn. The parts that were untangled are available, useable; the rest was a mess, useless until it is untied. That mess feels endless and unyielding. She knew, soon she will be nothing but a storm-tossed ship on the immense tides of his lust unless she fractures his ego.

"No... I'm not a plaything that you can fuck," cried Kanmani, pushing him off, "you can only rape me, you coward."

Ayaan watched her eyes fully open, posture square to her flames as if her anger can burn up his inner rage. He watched her as if his frustrations and anger were the fuel was burning in her.

"I will end myself, if you force anything on me, and you will regret your life if I mean anything to you," said Kanmani adjusting her saree. Though she had little doubts, if she means anything for him, but a sexy body.

"Fuck off bitch," retorted Ayaan and he punched in the wall, with a force and anger that he almost broke his fist.

Conspiring against her boiling lust, defying all her vulnerabilities, even risking Karan's fate, Kanmani again had walked out of her home. But she walked in pride. Again her vanity deprived her of fathoming that it's not virtues, but our choices — that shapes our destiny.