The first rays of dawn painted the house in hues of gold and rose, but it was not the light that woke Durga. It was the profound silence where Rajesh’s warm, solid presence had been. Her hand stretched across the cool, empty silk of his side of the bed. A faint, sweet ache lingered between her thighs, a delicious reminder of the night’s surrenders. She smiled, burying her face in his pillow, inhaling his scent—sandalwood and musk and him.

A sudden, sharp curiosity pricked at her contentment. Jadibudi wisdom had unlocked a door within her; what other secrets did the wise woman hold? Slipping from the bed, Durga wrapped a light shawl around her nightdress and padded silently from the room. The Village was still asleep, the only sound the whisper of her bare feet on the cool marble floors.

Jadibudi house were at the end of a secluded road, the door left slightly ajar. Pushing it open, Durga found the sitting room empty, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and aged paper. Her eyes scanned the shelves of leather-bound books and ornate boxes until they fell upon a small, unassuming chest of dark wood, its lid left carelessly askew. Inside, nestled on a fold of deep blue velvet, was a book unlike any she had ever seen. Its cover was tooled with intricate, intertwining figures locked in passionate embraces, their forms elegant and explicit.

Her breath hitched. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The house was still silent. With trembling fingers, she lifted the book. It fell open to a page illuminated with a detailed painting of a woman arched in ecstasy, a man worshipping her with his mouth. The script beside it was flowing and ancient, but the illustrations needed no translation. A hot flush spread from her core to the very tips of her ears. This was not just a text; it was a map. A guide to pleasures she had never dared imagine.

“Find something intriguing, my dear?”

Durga jumped, slamming the book shut and clutching it to her chest as if it had burst into flames. Jadibudi stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She didn’t look angry, only… amused.

“I… I was looking for you,” Durga stammered, her face burning.

A slow, knowing smile touched Panibai’s lips. “And so you have. That text is very old. It speaks of the art of maithuna. Of sacred union. It is not merely about joining bodies, but about unlocking the soul’s deepest joys through the vessel of the flesh.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “A tool for a devoted wife who wishes to truly… serve her husband.”

Durga’s mind spun. The images flashed behind her eyes—entwined limbs, mouths exploring, poses of exquisite abandon. A strange, powerful boldness surged through her, burning away her shyness. Serve him. The words from last night took on a new, thrilling meaning.

“May I…” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

“Take it,” Panibai said, her eyes glinting. “Learn it. Let it guide you in your devotion. Let him see the fire it ignites in you.”

Without another word, Durga turned and fled, the ancient book pressed against her pounding heart. She did not stop until she was back at the door to her bedroom. She paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, the carved wood of the book feeling alive in her hands.

She pushed the door open. Rajesh was there, standing by the window, having just pulled on a loose pair of cotton trousers. The morning sun gilded the powerful lines of his back and shoulders. He turned at the sound, his dark eyes initially soft with concern before they narrowed in curiosity at the object in her hands and the determined set of her jaw.

“Durga? Is everything all right? I woke and you were gone.” Rajesh asked.

Durga didn’t answer with words. She walked to the center of the room, the vast bed behind her, and let her shawl drop to the floor. Then, holding his gaze with a newfound intensity that made his breath catch, she opened the book. She let it fall open to a random page, not even looking at it, her eyes locked on his.

“I was seeking guidance,” Durga said, her voice low and steadier than she felt. “I found it.”

Rajesh eyes flicked down to the page, and she saw the instant he understood. A shockwave went through him. His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening as he took in the ancient erotic art. The air in the room grew thick and hot, charged with a potent, unspoken hunger. The commanding husband from the night before was still there, but now he was the one captivated, awaiting her next move.

Durga let the book fall onto a nearby divan, its purpose served. It had given her the courage, the permission she didn’t know she needed. She closed the distance between them, her nightdress whispering against the floor. She placed a hand on his bare chest, feeling the fierce, rapid beat of his heart under her palm.

“Last night, I learned to surrender,” she whispered, her lips inches from his. “This morning… I wish to worship.”

A low groan escaped him. His hands came up to grasp her hips, his grip firm, almost desperate. “Show me,” Rajesh commanded, his voice rough with raw desire.

A slow, sensuous smile spread across Durga’s face. She took his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him to sit on its edge. The sun streamed over them as she knelt before him on the soft carpets, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. This was her choice. Her offering.

She leaned forward, her long black hair cascading over rajesh thighs like a silken curtain. She nuzzled the coarse hair on his leg, inhaling his masculine scent, before placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his knee. Rajesh jolted at the contact, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. She continued her journey upward, her lips and the tip of her tongue tracing a slow, torturous path along his inner thigh, feeling the muscle quiver beneath her touch.

His fingers threaded into her hair, not guiding, just feeling, gripping. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. “Durga…” he breathed, a prayer and a plea.

Durga reached the hard, hot length of him straining against the thin cotton of his trousers. She mouthed him through the fabric, her hot breath seeping into him, and he arched off the bed with a strangled cry. The taste of him, the musky, salty promise of him, flooded her senses. This is my dharma, she thought, no longer with quiet acceptance but with fierce, burning purpose. This is my joy.

With trembling but determined fingers, Durga untied the cord at his waist. The fabric fell away, and he sprang free, bold and proud and gleaming in the morning light. For a moment, she just looked, her heart swelling with a potent mix of awe and desire. Then, holding his burning gaze, she leaned in.

Her tongue touched him first, a slow, flat lick from root to tip that made his entire body shudder. She tasted him properly then, the smooth, velvet-soft skin, the bead of moisture that had gathered at his apex. A moan vibrated deep in her own throat, the sound shocking her with its primal need.

Durga took his dick into her mouth, the heat of him searing, the weight pressing against her tongue. At first, she moved tentatively, unsure but eager, her lips wrapping around his girth as she explored the sensation of him filling her. His taste, musky and primal, ignited something deep within her—a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair, not forcing but urging her on, and she responded with a soft hum that vibrated through him, drawing a sharp gasp from his lips.

“Durga…” Rajesh moaned, his voice thick with need. She could hear the strain in it, the tension in his body as he fought to remain still, to let her set the pace. Slowly, she began to move, her lips sliding down his length before retreating, then descending again, each motion more confident than the last. Her hands found their way to his hips, her fingers digging into the firm muscle there as she steadied herself. The rhythm was intoxicating, the power she held over him in this moment both thrilling and humbling.

Her tongue swirled around him, teasing the sensitive underside before she took him deeper still. She felt him twitch in response, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Yes… just like that,” he urged, his voice ragged. The words spurred her on, emboldened her to explore further. She hollowed her cheeks, creating a steady suction that made his breath hitch, his thighs trembling beneath her touch. She could feel his restraint slipping, the control he’d clung to unraveling with every flick of her tongue, every gentle scrape of her teeth.

Durga’s own body was alight, a simmering heat pooling low in her belly. The act of pleasuring him had awakened something within her—a realization that this was more than submission; it was an exchange, a giving and receiving of raw, unfiltered desire. She pulled back slightly, her lips lingering at his tip as she glanced up at him through her lashes. His eyes were dark, almost feral, his jaw clenched as if he were holding himself back by a thread.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped, his voice a command and yet a plea. She obeyed without hesitation, taking him fully once more, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Her hands slid up to his abdomen, feeling the muscles there clench and release with every stroke. His hips began to lift slightly, meeting her rhythm, and she welcomed it, encouraged it. The air between them was electric, charged with a longing that threatened to consume them both.

She felt his end approaching, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter until it seemed he might shatter. His grip on her hair became almost painful, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. “Durga… I can’t…” he managed to choke out, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she doubled her efforts, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring him over the edge. With a roar that was part relief and part surrender, he spilled into her mouth, his body shuddering uncontrollably as waves of ecstasy washed over him. Durga stayed with him through it all, gently coaxing every last tremor from his spent body until he finally stilled. She released him slowly, her lips brushing one last kiss against his skin before she leaned back, her chest rising and falling with her own labored breaths. Rajesh reached for her, pulling her up to sit beside him on the bed, his arms enveloping her in a fierce embrace.

“You are…” Rajesh began, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as if sealing a promise. “You are everything,” he whispered finally, his voice raw with emotion. Durga smiled, a quiet contentment settling over her. This was no longer about guilt or duty—it was about connection, about discovering the depths of passion and devotion together. And in that moment, she knew it was only the beginning.