Navel Exploited by a Feudal Village Man

The city hummed its usual weekday noon chorus, but inside the small apartment, a different kind of tension was brewing. Twinkle adjusted the pallu of her cyan chiffon saree for the umpteenth time, the delicate, translucent fabric clinging to the gentle curve of her hips. The saree, one of her favourites, was draped in a way that the blouse ended just above the waistline of her petticoat, leaving a tantalizing strip of her midriff exposed with every movement. At its centre, a deep, perfectly shaped navel winked like a secret.

Gaurav, hastily stuffing files into a small, worn-out office bag, had delivered the news like a royal decree. “Sandeep is coming. The village head’s son. You remember him?”

Twinkle did. A shiver, unpleasant and cold, traced her spine. She remembered a crowded courtyard in Gaurav’s village, the smell of earth and sweat, and Sandeep’s large, coarse hand settling on her waist during an introduction. It had lingered a second too long, its heat searing through her silk sari. Gaurav had seen it too but had only looked away, his face a mask of helpless deference.

“He’s a very powerful man, Twinkle,” Gaurav insisted, clicking his bag shut. “His family controls everything back home. We must show him utmost respect. Please, take good care of him. He’ll be here any minute.”

“But Gaurav, you won’t be here?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.

“I can’t miss this meeting. It’s alright. You’re a gracious host. Just be courteous.” He gave her a quick, distracted peck on the cheek and was out the door, leaving her alone with her anxiety.

Born and raised in the city, Twinkle found the feudal hierarchies of her husband’s village baffling and intimidating. Men like Sandeep, with their raw, unpolished authority, made her feel small and vulnerable. Her confidence, usually a steady flame, flickered in their presence.

The doorbell rang, a sharp, intrusive sound. Taking a deep breath, Twinkle smoothed her saree and opened the door.

Sandeep stood there, a few inches shorter than Gaurav but built broader, his presence immediately filling the space. He was, as Gaurav had said, below-average in conventional looks, with a coarse beard and a permanent scowl etched on his face. But his eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

“Twinkle,” he said, his voice a low rumble, pointedly avoiding any familial honorifics. His gaze travelled over her, from her neatly tied hair, down her neck, lingering on the hollow of her throat, before dropping lower. It was a slow, deliberate inventory. When his eyes finally settled on the exposed strip of her midriff, Twinkle felt a hot flush creep up her neck. She saw his gaze fixate on her navel, that intimate dip, and she instinctively wanted to cover it. But she remembered Gaurav’s words – respect, obedience. She forced a smile.

“Please come in, Sandeep ji. Gaurav had to leave for the office, he sends his apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sandeep said, stepping inside, his shoulder brushing against hers. “A beautiful hostess is more than enough company.”

The Lunchtime Inspection

He made himself at home on the sofa while Twinkle busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a lunch she had already cooked. When she called him to the dining table, he sat down and began to eat with a hearty appetite. Twinkle, following custom, stood beside the table to serve him more curry or rice if needed.

As he ate, Sandeep’s eyes were not on his plate but on her. He chewed slowly, his gaze roving over her body. The translucent chiffon of her saree did little to hide the silhouette of her waist or the soft skin of her exposed back, revealed by the low-cut back of her blouse. He watched the subtle shift of muscles under the milky skin of her midriff as she moved to pick up a bowl. His eyes lingered on the deep curve of her waist, the gentle dip of her navel, a dark pool in the smooth, pale landscape of her stomach. Twinkle noticed his gaze. It felt like a physical touch, scalding and intrusive. She felt a blush spread across her cheeks and chest, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on the floor, meekly overlooking his brazen appraisal.

The Advance

After eating, Sandeep went out for a smoke. He returned twenty minutes later, just as a light drizzle had started. His hair was slightly damp.

“Ah, it’s drizzling,” he remarked, running a hand through his wet hair. He sat down on the sofa and looked at Twinkle, who was clearing the table. “Twinkle, could you bring me a small towel? This dampness is uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” she said, fetching a hand towel.

As she handed it to him, he didn’t take it. Instead, he gave her a gentle yet firm look that brooked no argument. “My hands are a bit greasy from the food. Would you mind? Just a quick wipe. It will only take a moment.”

The request was inappropriate. It crossed a line. But the command in his tone, the memory of Gaurav’s pleading, and her own timidity made her hesitate. Reluctantly, she stepped closer, standing directly in front of him as he sat. She raised the towel and began to gently pat his damp hair. She was acutely conscious of her position; his face was level with her midriff. Through the sheer chiffon, the curves of her waist and the outline of her navel must be perfectly visible. She blushed deeply, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Suddenly, she felt a warm, firm pressure on her waist. Sandeep had cupped her midriff with both hands. His right hand splayed across the exposed curve of her waist, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh just above her hip.

Twinkle froze, a jolt of shock seizing her. “Sandeep ji…!” she frantically uttered, her hands stopping their motion.

“Shhh, Twinkle,” he said, his voice calm. “I just need a grip for balance. You are standing so close, and I didn’t want to fall.” He paused, his thumbs making infinitesimal circles on her skin. “But now that I have my hands here… I must say, you have a perfect body. This waist… so slim, yet so soft. And this navel,” his gaze dropped to the delicate dip, “it’s so deep and cute. It must look even more alluring without this sheer fabric in the way.”

Hearing this, Twinkle winced, her body flinching. All the while, his hands remained firmly cupped on her midriff, their heat branding her skin. Her own hands, still wiping the towel against his head, had slowed to a halt, paralyzed by confusion and embarrassment.

Then, with the hand that wasn’t holding her waist, Sandeep reached for the end of her pallu. “Let me see, Twinkle. Just for a moment.”

“No, Sandeep ji, please!” she gasped, her breath turning heavy. She grabbed hold of her pallu, the towel falling onto the sofa. A silent struggle ensued, her feeble resistance no match for his determination. Seeing the panic in her eyes, he didn’t force it but instead looked at her with an intense, unyielding gaze.

“Twinkle, don’t be shy. I just want to appreciate God’s creation. A woman’s body is a work of art. Let me see.”

Her resolve crumbled under the weight of his authority and her own helplessness. Her grip on the pallu loosened. Sensing her surrender, Sandeep slowly began to unwrap the length of cyan chiffon. Remaining seated, he gently guided her to rotate, unwinding the fabric until the entire pallu was off her shoulders and pooled beside him on the sofa. She was now standing before him in just her blouse and petticoat, her entire midriff—from the swell of her breasts to the waistband of her skirt—completely bare.

He leaned back, his eyes feasting on her. He leered at the shape of her breasts moulded by the blouse, but his primary focus was the expanse of fair, soft skin now on display. His gaze traced the perfect, feminine curves of her waist, the gentle slope of her stomach, and finally, the deep, captivating cuteness of her navel.

Twinkle is feeling the heat of his gaze on her soft midriff and navel and shuts her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

The Feast Begins

“Perfect,” he breathed out. Then, confidently, he leaned forward. His hands reached out to her waist and began to explore. His fingers traced the line of her hip bones, his palms sliding around to the small of her back, pulling her closer. He lowered his head and pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss just beside her navel.

Twinkle jerked, a small, shocked sound escaping her lips. She stood rigid, her hands hanging helplessly at her sides, unable to push him away, unable to do anything but endure. Sandeep continued his exploration, kissing a path across her midriff from one hip bone to the other. His moustache tickled her sensitive skin, sending involuntary shivers through her frame. He lingered at her navel, circling the rim with his tongue before dipping it into the shallow depth, making her gasp and squirm. Her body trembled, a confusing mix of shame, guilt, and an unwelcome, traitorous thrill at the sheer intensity of his attention.

To the Bedroom

After a while of him worshipping her midriff while seated, Sandeep suddenly stood up. In one swift, powerful motion, he hooked his hands under her hips and lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

“Sandeep ji! No! Put me down!” Twinkle cried out, her futile pleas muffled against his back. Her heart hammered with apprehension and shame. He carried her effortlessly into the bedroom and deposited her onto the double bed, the one she shared with Gaurav.

A Helpless Offering

Twinkle lay on her back, shutting her eyes tightly, unable to meet his predatory gaze. She felt the bed dip as Sandeep sat beside her. He gently but firmly took her wrists and arranged her arms above her head, so she lay spread-eagled, offering her body to him like a feast.

“Just lie still, Twinkle,” he ordered, his voice gentle yet firm. “Let me enjoy this beauty for a while. Don’t resist.” Twinkle, utterly defeated and overwhelmed, complied without a word, turning her head to the side, tears of shame welling in her closed eyes.

A Systematic Devotion

Sandeep began his unhurried enjoyment. He started with her face, cupping her buttery cheeks and planting deep, lingering kisses on each one, delighting in their softness. He moved to her neck and shoulders, his warm kisses and the scratchy path of his moustache making her sigh and jerk. He slid his head downwards, nuzzling the softness of her breasts through the blouse before his ultimate destination called him back.

Then, he devoted himself entirely to her midriff. He caressed, kneaded, and kissed every inch of the soft, quivering skin. He kissed from hip bone to hip bone, his hands gripping her hips firmly, holding her in place as she trembled. He lavished attention on her navel, exploring it with his lips and tongue until she was moaning and sighing despite herself, her body arching and shaking under his ministrations. He then turned her onto her side to better appreciate the graceful curve of her waist, kissing along the indentations before turning her onto her stomach to relish her exposed back, his lips tracing a path down her spine to the border of her petticoat.

The End and The Aftermath

Finally, he turned her onto her back again. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he simply laid his head on her stomach, his cheek resting on her soft midriff, and stayed like that for a few minutes, listening to her frantic heartbeat slow down. Twinkle laid spreadeagled, facing the ceiling, enduring his head on her midriff. The intimacy of the gesture was somehow more violating than everything that had come before. After a few minutes, he got up, straightened his clothes, and looked down at her lying exposed.

“It was a pleasure, Twinkle. Take care,” he said casually, as if ending a business meeting. He then turned and walked out of the bedroom. She heard the front door open and close, followed by the sound of his car starting and driving away.

Twinkle lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, the ghost of his hands and lips still burning on her skin. The room was silent except for the faint city sounds and the ragged sound of her own breathing. The cyan chiffon pallu lay discarded on the sofa in the other room, a colourful testament to the violation that had just unfolded, leaving her alone with a shame that felt as deep and inescapable as her navel.