tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Saint or the Scoundrel Ch. 01

The Saint or the Scoundrel Ch. 01


[This story has a small connection with the Durga Puja festival that is celebrated in Bengal and Eastern India in October-November. It has been written to coincide with the festival season.]

Rudra was desperately trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him but the sound was far too loud to be contained by the walls of their tiny apartment. The sound of sex. The sound of his mother being fucked ..


Actually this was nothing new. Ever since he was child growing up with his single mother, having strangers in the house every now and then was not uncommon. Some of them were nice, they would give him sweets. Others would simply ignore him or even glare at him with impatience until his mother would get him out of the way with food or comic books.

Rudra had never known his father. He knew that he had died when he was even smaller and his world was that of he and his mother, Deepannita. Deepa, as she was widely known, worked as a security guard at an all-women's college in central Calcutta. Close proximity to young, college going girls had invested her with an appearance and an attitude that was way above the social milieu that she came from.

Hailing from the Sunderbans area of South Bengal, where many of Calcutta's maid servants come from, she was tall but dusky. But her face -- with large, limpid eyes, a slightly high cheekbone, pouted lips and a firm chin -- was something that few men could ever look away from. Which is why she had been whisked away in her early youth by the raging tides social disharmony and would have ended up in a red-light district of Sonagachi had it not been for an unexpected but fortunate dalliance with an unusual person who had left him with not just the infant Rudra but a toehold with her current employer.

It had been a precarious toehold. Jobs were scarce and she had had to use every resource at her command, including her obvious physical charms, to make sure that she was not dislodged by others. Of course she had other very useful abilities. She was smart, very smart and physically tough -- her ancestors were probably Maratha thugs, commonly known as Borgi, who used to terrorize Bengal but she had also attended martial arts classes -- and could stare down any hooligan who tried to enter the college premises. But the college girls liked her because even though she was twice their age, she would be touching 40 soon, she dressed like them in jeans and would enthusiastically help out with many of the extra-curricular activities in the college.

Her son Rudra was a little different. Shy and introvert, he had just finished school and entered college but he had hardly any friends. Lost in the world of books, computers and the internet -- the one big investment that his mother had made for him -- he was more of a thinker. He was a little tall for his age but rather thin and had a boyish grin that made him look younger than what he was at 18. As a child he had been rather sickly and even though he had outgrown that phase, Deepa was still very protective about him to the extent of having him in her bed till very recently! And it was on that very bed that his mother was being fucked ....

Rudra was old enough to know that there were people -- and that too important people, given the reverence with which his mother treated them -- who would regularly visit their flat and spend hours in his mother's bedroom. If it was not too late, Deepa would try to get Rudra out of the house but otherwise, as was usually the case, Rudra would engage himself with his books in the living room. It was not as if he did not understand what was happening behind the closed doors of his mother's bedroom -- some of these encounters were very noisy ones -- and initially Deepa had tried to rationalise matters. But with the passage of time both mother and son had reconciled themselves to the situation -- which as Deepa had explained, was something that was inevitable if she had to keep her job in the school and provide for a reasonable living for the two of them. Bengal was never a place of great opportunities.

Rudra had never had a bedroom of his own and unless he felt too sleepy and crashed out on the sagging sofa in the living room, he would wait for his mother's guests to leave and then he would get into the only bed in the house, the bed that he had been sharing with his mother ever since he had been infant. It was very natural of course when he was small but then as he grew up and started to read books and browse the internet it he had slowly started to connect the dots. Deepa should have read the signs but then a son is always a kid to his mother. But then again she might have subconsciously reached out to the only one source of love and happiness in that otherwise stressful household. Gradually, innocently and perhaps inevitably mother and son had drawn closer to each other and as Rudra grew older and bigger, Deepa would feel a sense of warmth and comfort when her son hugged her tight in bed -- his hands gently squeezing her tits and then his erection prodding her in her butt!


But today Rudra was desperately trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him but the sound was far too loud to be contained by the walls of their tiny apartment. The sound of sex. The sound of his mother being fucked ....

Mahalaya, that heralds the start of the Durga Puja fortnight, had just got over yesterday and today Mastan was back. Mastan, was a particular lecherous character, who had just won a local election and by virtue of his political clout was appointed as the Chairman of the Governing Body of the College where Deepa worked. His initial idea was to flirt with the young students but he soon realised that you don't mess with the daughters of influential people. After being repeatedly snubbed by the students he discovered that the college security guard was was just as attractive and a lot less protected! Fortunately, Mastan was more often than not busy with his criminal activities in Jharkhand but whenever he was in Calcutta, Deepa had to keep him happy!

What was worse however was that whenever he visited, Deepa seemed rather tensed and distraught. In the past, Rudra had got used to see his freshly fucked mother bidding a polite goodbye to her 'friends' but in the case of Mastan she always seemed too shell shocked and even later when her son would cuddle up to, her useful cheerfulness was always missing.

Mastan was a very noisy fucker, his grunts and groans and cuss words could easily be heard but on that day he seemed to have gone berserk. Deepa had recently bought a new computer with a broadband connection -- something that Rudra had been begging for -- but even then Rudra could not focus on the screen in front as screams and shrieks rang out through the bedroom door. But what was more ominous today was his mother's voice that was almost bordering on alarm.

"Help, help, please help." This was a cry that Rudra could not ignore any longer. He rushed to the bedroom door and kicked it open and what he saw left him stunned in cold horror!

Deepa was hanging in the air. Her arms were tied with ropes that were suspended from the ceiling and her feet were barely touching the floor. Her face was contorted with fear and tears were flowing down her cheeks. Two heavy weights were hanging from clips attached to her nipples making her breasts sag low and a small bottle plastic bottle was protruding out of the thick bush of her pubic hair. But what was most devastating was the a number of red weals that criss-crossed her body where Mastan -- himself stark naked as well -- had slashed her with a whip.

Rudra was paralysed but only for a second. With a bellow of pure rage, he jumped across to the lecher and gave him a solid blow on his chin.

"You get out of this room, you son of a whore." Mastan roared but being drunk out of his wits, Rudra had no difficulty in silencing him with a solid kick on his belly.

After kicking the fellow out the house, Rudra's mind was in a whirl. What if he came back with his thuggish cronies but perhaps he would not be in a state to do so. He rushed back to his mother's room and quickly took her down from the ropes, unclipped the weights from her nipples and gently pulled the plastic bottle out of his mother's cunt. Deepa collapsed on the bed too shaken to even put on her clothes.

"Ma, let me get some lotion for your bruises." Rudra quickly grabbed a wad of cotton, wetted it with Dettol, and started applying it on her wounds. Deepa whimpered in pain as the antiseptic bit into her broken skin and then slowly calmed down as it took effect. Next, he ran to the kitchen and warmed a bowl of milk, poured it into a glass tumbler and came back.

Deepa was lying spread eagled on the bed with a glazed look on her face. Rudra got into the bed and pulled her into his arms, laying her head on his chest and placed the milk on her lips.

"Ma. Please have this milk."

"I am sorry, Rudra." she whispered.

"There is nothing to be sorry about, I understand."

"This fellow will now make my life miserable."

"That is for tomorrow. Tonight you are safe in my arms." Rudra petted his mother with extreme tenderness and slowly, ever so slowly, as she drank the milk that he had brought, he noticed that the tension was draining out her body.

Now that the immediate crisis was over, Rudra cuddled his mother on his chest. Even in the past, they had lain together like this but this was different, she was in the nude and in the dim light of the room Rudra's eyes and then his hands caressed her face, her throat, her chest, her breasts all the way down to her tummy, her navel and then her pubic mound. He did not want to do it but the raw sensuality of circumstances found his fingers feeling their way through the curls of her pubic bush and pressing into the crevice of her cunt. Deepa shivered and a tiny moan slipped out of her lips as she cuddled closer to her son and saviour.

Rudra was in a tizzy. On one hand, this was his mother and on the other she was a beautiful woman lying naked and helpless in his arms. Like a pendulum he swayed between his morals and his hormones but was in no position curb the gigantic erection that was tenting his pajamas. His head bent forward and as his lips were about to touch his mother's, she suddenly opened her mouth and murmured, "My braveheart, my sweetheart."

The dam was broken. Suddenly mother and son were locked in a kiss, that went on and on as they tasted and teased each other with their tongue.

"You OK, ma?"

"Yes kiddo and only because you were here to save me."

"What else could I do? I could not ignore your cry for help."

"Since I cannot thank you for that, I will do something else that you will like," and suddenly she slipped her hands into his pajamas and started stroking his erect prick!

Rudra's world went for a toss as he suddenly found himself kissing his mother with greater urgency, his hand fondling her breasts and her suddenly hardening nipples. He felt his mother's fists shaking and stroking his engorged penis and then with a groan he spurted his cum through her fist and on her tummy and thighs.

"Oh Ma, what have I done?" Suddenly there was a genuine remorse in his voice.

"Look kid, when you and I have only each other to look after, this was bound to happen."

"But is this right? What will people say?"

"This is between us. We couldn't care less about what others say."

"You are my mother, I will go by what you say."

"If you go by what I say, will you promise me something?"


"Then promise not to ever fuck me. Do not penetrate my cunt with your prick. I would beg of you."

"Why beg? Your wish is my command. But may I know why?"

"You may, but not today."

"Then why do you allow these lecherous fuckers to come and fuck you every night."

"I do not have much of a choice and then I do not want to equate them with you, my braveheart."

"But he will be back again and I have to hear you scream while being fucked."

"If you are with me, we will put a stop to that."

"Tell me what to do?"

"Rudra, you know that I have Maratha blood in my veins." There was a sudden hardening in the tone of her voice.

"I have heard you talk about that Borgi ancestor of ours, but why tonight."

"If read the The History of India by the Hon Mountstuart Elphinstone you would know that A Maratha thinks of nothing but the result, and cares little for the means, if he can attain his object. For this purpose he will strain his wits, renounce his pleasures, and hazard his person." [ Chapter IX, the Deccan ]


"This bastard has screwed me enough and I want to make sure that he regrets it till the end of his life."

That night, mother and son, both naked in each others arms and with the son's semen smeared across his mother's body, hatched a plan to take revenge.

"Where do we start?"

"Did you notice that heavy gold talisman that Mastan wears around his neck?"

"Yes I did. What does it mean?"

"He is very possessive about that. Claims that it is his PranaBhomra, the key to his life."

"What does that mean?"

"From what I have gathered, it contains the passwords to all his secret banking accounts, where he has stashed all the money that he extorts from people or takes as bribes."

"So if we take it away he loses all that money."

"That will kill him, because he runs his empire on money. His thugs don't care for him at all."

"How can we steal it away from him."

"Have you seen the Bangla movie Gandu."

"That pornographic movie ..."

"So you have seen it," Deepa smiled indulgently. "Do you remember the scene where the boy steals money from the purse of the guy who is fucking his mother?"

"You want me to try that next time! But does he ever take it off from his neck?"

"You are right, we need to think this through."

"But will he come back here? After the way I kicked him today?"

"It is not the kick on his balls .. it is the kick on his massive ego that I am scared of."

"So what do we do?"

"I think I will have to go back to him and apologise profusely on your behalf."

"I can come along if you want to. I would not want you to bear his insults."

"Thank you, kiddo but let me try first. I will go to his place tomorrow."


Next evening, when Deepa reached home, Rudra found her to be rather downcast.

"Did you get to meet Mastan?"


"And what did he say? Will he come?"

"Actually he made a counter offer. He wants us to go to his country home during the Pujas."

"Us? I thought he was interested in only you."

"I know, but there is something that I just can't place my fingers on .. there is something fishy."

"Like what?"

"Like I thought that he would be mad at you and demand an apology. But instead he wanted to invite you as well."

"Which is nice. Fun for me, safety for you."

"But these thugs never make things easy for anyone. I am sure there is a catch."

"So do you think that we should stay away?"

"That is not possible and I don't want to. A Maratha-Borgi does not give up so fast," she smiled.

"When do we have to leave?"

"On Ashtami, by the Lalmati Express that leaves Howrah in the morning and reaches Chandil in the afternoon."

"That is less than four days away!"

"I know ... and I have things to do before we leave."

"Do what?"

"Get ourself some insurance." Deepa was at her enigmatic best.


It was just past two in the afternoon when Deepa and Rudra alighted from the Lalmati Express at Chandil. The natural scenery in and around Chandil is unique and enchanting. The tiny town is surrounded by green mountains, hills, streams and rivers on all sides as is the case for most of the Chotanagpur plateau in Jharkhand. Some people say that once upon a time there was a famous temple dedicated to Devi Chandi somewhere in the vicinity but no one seems to know anything about it today.

Mastan had sent a Tata Sumo to pick them up at the station and they followed a rough and dusty road that went past the Chandil Dam on the Subarnarekha River and meandered up the Ghat Roads through the dense deciduous forests that were a part of the Dalma Wildlife sanctuary.

Deepa tried to engage the driver in some conversation, to find something more about the place, but the thuggish fellow would hardly utter a word. She gave up when Rudra quietly pointed out the butt of a handgun that was peeping out of the bag that the driver had by his side. Good God! What had they let themselves into?

After more than two hours of really bumpy roads they came to clearing in the dense forest and turned into a walled compound that had armed guards at the gate. The first shock was that there was hardly any welcome! Two thugs told them to pick up their bags and start walking across the compound.

Deepa looked around and realised that they were in the valley between two hills and the land sloped down towards the the setting sun in the west. The large compound had a number of small huts and buildings where more of these thuggish types were either sitting or loitering around. Deepa and Rudra followed their guide to a small room near the wall with windows that opened out into what were obviously Mastan's private quarters! Through the windows, they could see manicured lawns and water bodies -- perhaps Japanese Gardens -- and a beautiful colonial style bungalow with wide verandahs. Behind the bungalow the land seemed to fall away into the deepest jungle.

"Please freshen up quickly in these bathrooms here. Mastan-ji is waiting for you." The order was a tad too curt for a guest but Deepa and Rudra complied.

The next command was devastating. "Just remove all your clothes and keep them in this bag!"

"What do you mean? You want us to go in naked?"

"That is exactly what Mastan-ji has said and that is what you will do."

"I want to speak to him, right now." The anger in her voice was showing through.

"Shut up and don't ever raise your voice here. You do just what you are told." The menace in the voice was overwhelming and Deepa and Rudra had no option but to obey meekly.

"Give me some privacy at least, I am a woman."

"It is only whores who go in here ... and whores need no privacy." The menace was becoming more and more ugly.

"Ma, I think we do not have a choice."

"Oh, so it is mother and son today," smirked one of the guards but he was silenced by a murderous look from the other.

Rudra was the first to strip naked, giving up his shirt, trousers, shorts and shoes to the first thug who put them into a bag. Deepa followed, pulling off her shirt and jeans and hoping that that her panties and bra will be spared. But there was no such luck.

"Remove all that," the guard pointed at her crotch and her breasts, "and also all you bangles, rings, earrings and hairclips. Everything."

Deepa pulled off her bra and stepped out her panties to reveal a thick bush of pubic hair. She pulled out her bangles and removed the clips from her long hair allowing it to fall across her firm breasts. She placed her hands over her pubic bush.

"Raise your hands above your heads."

Then the senior guard started feeling her body, starting with her head. He ran his fingers through her hair looking for any hidden objects and then, even though, there could not have been anything hidden, he passed his hands over her naked body, feeling her breasts, squeezing her tits, patting her stomach and started groping her cunt. Deepa shrank back.

"What are you doing to my mother?" Rudra had the temerity to ask and was rewarded with an instant slap on his face.

"Keep quiet, Rudra. It is no use." Deepa muttered under her breath, but she was scared stiff as well, especially when the guard poked her in the cunt and then after making her turn around slid his hand through the crack between her butts.

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