Previous Part: The Old Man Who Lived Down The Lane – Part 2
Chapter 6 – The Mistress
A day after Diwali, I fulfilled my guru’s wish. I moved in to live with him in his old house. I obeyed every command of his. I satisfied his deepest and darkest desires.
The whole neighbourhood was abuzz with rumours of our not-so-secret fling. Gossip spread thick and fast about how I had become his young mistress. Society loves scandals, especially if it happens to be an illicit relationship, more so if the relationship is between a 70-year-old man and a 21-year-old woman.
Nobody understood our deep love and mutual respect. A love that transcended a 50-year age barrier. Respect that laid the foundation of an unshakable bond. A bond between artist and muse that was unfathomable.
Neither me nor the old man was bothered by these titbits of gossip. We had far more important things to immerse ourselves in. He had some really kinky desires to be taken care of. And I submitted myself to his kinks willingly and unconditionally.
For example, the old master became obsessed with body painting. He would paint one of my nipples red and the other yellow. He would paint my asshole purple and my pussy pink.
He would then ask me to massage his dick till it became erect. And request me to draw tiger stripes on it in orange, white and black. He would then insert that striped cock in my pink pussy, presumably to impale me like a tiger.
He would drill me like a tiger and pummel me like a horse. He would dump so much cum inside me that it felt like he was ageing backwards. And he would collect all that cum once it trickled out of my cunt in a glass plate. And use it to paint his masterpiece on canvas.
“When will I get to see your masterpiece?” I asked him 5 days after Diwali.
“Soon enough,” he assured me.
I cooked for him, and I bathed him. I washed his clothes and slept with him. Pretty soon, he stopped going out, and I did grocery shopping for him. That turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.
5 men accosted me while I was returning from the grocer’s one day. They were all middle-aged, all new to the neighbourhood, and they knew my name.
“Are you Shilpi?” one of them stopped me in my tracks.
“Yes. Why?”
“What’s your relationship with the old man?” asked another.
“Who the hell are you? And why should I tell you?” I was furious.
“Ask your senior citizen boyfriend who we are,” he replied. “What business do you have in that house?”
“None of your business,” I hissed. “And what gives you the right to talk to me this way?”
“Because that house is ours,” replied the 1st one. “That old bastard you are screwing is our father.”
I was astounded, as if the ground shifted beneath my feet. Does Guruji have children? 5 of them? I stood frozen.
“Listen, girl,” stepped in another, “what you do in his bed does not matter to us. But that house does not belong to you. It’s our property.”
“Our inheritance,” corrected another ‘son’. “And we do not want you there. Vacate it by tomorrow, or else you will be in trouble.”
I was shocked at their aggressive tone and posture. They regarded me as a threat to their inheritance. Because I was their father’s “mistress”?
I narrated the whole incident to Guruji. A dark shadow came over his face. He looked worried and disturbed. And asked me to be careful.
“Stay away from them,” he said. “They are bad. Don’t talk to them. Avoid them at any cost.”
“But Guruji, they have asked me to move out of this house,” I replied. “They have given me time till tomorrow. Why?”
“Because they are scared of losing this house,” he said in a solemn tone. “That’s all they care about – this house. And they know I am not going to give it to them.”
“But why did they threaten me? I don’t want your property,” I wailed. “I want you, Guruji. Not your house.”
“They don’t know that. They are incapable of understanding that.”
“Are they really your children? All 5 of them?” I asked.
“Yes. They are all my blood. And my worst nightmare,” he responded angrily. “They were not there when my wife breathed her last. They were nowhere to be seen when I needed them the most. They were waiting for me to die so that they could get their hands on this property. And now they have turned up only because they feel insecure about your presence in this house.”
“Where do they live? In Delhi itself?” I was curious.
“No. They live in different states. They must have heard the rumours about us. And came running all at once.”
“I will leave today itself,” I said. “I don’t want to be a part of this. It’s a family feud.”
“There is no feud,” he yelled. “There is no family. 5 greedy vultures – that’s what they are. I am ashamed to call them my sons. We were never a family.”
“Still. I don’t want to be in the middle of this dispute,” I told him. “Allow me to leave.”
“Never,” he put his foot down. “This house is mine. And I will decide who stays here and who doesn’t. I will donate this house to charity. But I will not give them a penny. They don’t deserve it.”
The old man was so adamant that I had to give in. I gave up my decision to move out. I did have a backup plan ready, though. The rented apartment I was staying in earlier was still vacant.
I had paid advance rent to the landlord till the end of the month. So, I was technically still the tenant. And could move back if the situation demanded it. I kept this thought as Plan B at the back of my mind.
As it would turn out, Guruji’s decision and my acceptance were both the worst mistakes of our lives. And we both had to pay heavily for the same.
Chapter 7 – The Depraved Five
24 hours went by, and nothing happened. Under Guruji’s strict instructions, I spent the whole day and the next inside the house. Did not go out even for a second. And nobody turned up to bother me.
2 days later, Guruji made a sudden plan to visit his lawyer in the afternoon. He told me he had to meet this lawyer to sign some papers personally. He left before lunchtime and promised to return by evening. And asked me not to open the door till he returned.
As the day went by and dusk settled in, I grew anxious. Guruji did not have a mobile phone, so there was no way for me to contact him. It was 8 PM on the clock and pitch dark outside. I took a shower and changed into a nightgown, expecting him to return any moment.
The old man did not like me wearing undergarments. I had stopped wearing them 3 months ago, especially inside the house. It was no different that evening. I was naked underneath the nighty.
Suddenly, I heard a knock on the main door. I felt relieved. He was back. I went running to open the door without bothering to go to the 1st-floor balcony to check who it was.
I realised my mistake as soon as I unlocked the main door. I cursed myself for being stupid and careless. Standing outside the door were those 5 men, and they barged in and locked the door from the inside even before I could react.
“Hello, sweetheart,” one of them said. “What are you still doing here? Didn’t we ask you to leave?”
“You were supposed to be gone 2 days ago,” said another. “Guess you didn’t take us seriously.”
They all smelled of cheap booze. They all appeared to be drunk. They all had bloodshot red eyes. I panicked and prayed for my safety.
“Guruji is not here. Please leave,” I uttered in a shaky voice.
“Why should we leave our property?” asked the 1st one. “And who is Guruji? The old bastard?”
“The old pervert,” corrected another ‘son’. “Banging girls young enough to be his granddaughters.”
“He will be back soon,” my voice was trembling now. “Please wait here.”
“We know when he left. We were watching the house for the past 3 days,” said the 4th son. “We waited till it was dark. We knew you were alone.”
His words sent shivers down my spine. They wanted me, not him. Their invasion was deliberate and pre-planned. I thought of locking myself inside the studio.
“How old are you, honey?” asked the 4th guy. “You don’t look much older than my son. 20? 25?”
“The old geezer likes his girls young and fresh,” chipped in the 2nd one. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
The 5th guy was standing silently in a corner all this while. He suddenly walked up to me. Before I could figure out his intentions, he pressed my boobs with his fingers. Immediately, he realised I was not wearing a bra under my nightgown.
“She is fresh, no doubt,” his eyes lit up instantly. “Does he press like this?” He grabbed my left boob and squeezed it. “Or like this?” he pinched my right nipple through the nighty.
The others surrounded me immediately in the long, dark corridor. My opportunity to run and lock myself up in the studio was gone. I started shivering in fear and panic.
“She is not wearing anything underneath,” announced the 5th man. “Must be getting herself ready for the old dog.”
“Really?” The 1st son stepped forward. And without a warning, he lifted my nighty. “What the hell are these?”
He was referring to the body paintings done by Guruji on my ass and crotch. All 5 of them came forward and bent down to take a closer look. I felt distressed, disgusted and devastated.
“What are these? Flowers?” one of them touched my cleft. “Looks like 2 flowers – yellow and red,” added another.
“There is more on her hips,” said the guy who had lifted my nighty. “Some strange design.”
“We thought he was banging you,” said the 4th one. “But this is something else. This is utter perversion.”
“You two are unfit to live in society,” the man groping my boobs said. “You have no shame and no decency.”
“What do you want?” I yelled at them in anger and desperation but mostly in fear. I felt scared, like I had never felt before.
“We want you out,” the 1st one said. “And we want this house. It might be old, but the land alone is worth crores.”
“You will not get it,” I snapped at him for reasons that are still unknown to me. “He will not give you a penny. In fact, he has gone to meet his lawyer. I am sure he is going to disinherit you all.”
A dark cloud fell over them suddenly. They stopped talking and started staring at each other as if they realised what was going to happen. My words hit them hard, and they responded with vengeance.
“So, he is planning to give you all his property? You want what is rightfully ours?” growled the 2nd son.
“No. I don’t want any of it,” I had calmed down by then. “I have no interest in this house. I want Guruji.”
“To do what? Draw more flowers on your body?” he asked.
“He must be banging her too,” the 5th man said. “He used to draw naked pictures of all his girls in the studio. It is somewhere on the 1st floor.”
“Take us to the studio,” growled the 3rd son. “Right now.”
I had to obey and oblige. There was no way for me to escape or hide. I took them all to the studio. And they started going through all my portraits drawn by Guruji.
“Whatever we have heard about you two is right,” they said. “These paintings are proof of your dirty relationship. These need to be destroyed right away.”
“No! Please don’t,” I pleaded with them. “These are his life’s works. Precious artworks. Please don’t touch them.”
“These obscene drawings are precious artworks?” they started laughing and jeering. “And what does that make you? A precious model?”
“She does have a hot, tight body,” the 5th son lifted my nightdress again. “She looks as hot and young in the flesh as in the paintings.”
“You should be OUR mistress,” said the 1st guy. “Why suck his dirty old cock when you could suck ours?”
“And that would be a deal,” the 5th son groped my breasts with both hands. “You be our mistress, and we will not touch these paintings. At least for tonight.”
I stared at them in shock and disgust. Is this the price I would have to pay to make them leave me and the portraits unharmed? All I could see in their eyes were sheer depravity and lust. There was no alternative. I nodded yes.
Within seconds, they unzipped their pants and pulled down their underwear. 5 hungry filthy cocks stood erect, pointed at me. I stood motionless in fear and shame. What will Guruji think of me when he finds out?
They made me lie down on the floor of the studio. One of them lifted my nighty and removed it over my head. Another held my legs and spread them apart. And then they all descended on me like vultures do on a prey. Their dirty paws groped my tender body. Their sharp nails scratched my soft skin.
“Look at this! One nipple is yellow, the other one is red,” one of them drew the attention of the others towards my boobs. Another pointed at my pussy and shouted, “Her holes are painted purple and pink!”
“I have to say, girl. You are a real slut,” the 5th son got on top of me. “You deserve to be fucked like a whore.”
He was the filthiest and horniest of the group. A sick pervert. They were all twisted degenerates, but he was the worst of the lot. He started his session by savagely inserting his finger in my pussy.
“Please be gentle,” I cried out in pain. “Don’t hurt me.”
“As if a shameless slut like you could ever get hurt by a finger,” he sneered and shoved the finger again. “I bet even this cannot hurt you,” he smacked his hard cock on my crotch.
I kept quiet after that. Pleading with him would have been futile. He was a monster out to devour its prey. And satiate his hunger for pussy and flesh. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the inevitable.
He fingered my pussy roughly and got me wet. He then shoved his cock and rammed it in. He stared at me with the eyes of a wolf. And did not blink even once during the ordeal.
His thrusts were savage and brutal. As though he derived some forbidden pleasure by inflicting pain. After some time, my cunt loosened up under his relentless assault. And I began to moan and hated myself for it.
“She moans like a whore,” he sneered. “We will all treat her like a whore.”
His last few thrusts were especially deep and strong. I kept thinking of Guruji throughout the nightmare. I covered my face in shame and agony. The wicked wolf polluted my insides with one last mighty plunge.
“Your pink hole is white now,” he chuckled as his white cum dribbled out of my pussy. But there was no respite for me. The other 4 vultures were waiting. They were hard, horny and hungry.
One by one, all 5 of them ravished me. 2 of them pounded my asshole, while the other 3 penetrated my pussy. There was no break in between and no pause to let me catch my breath. I was their fuck toy, and they fulfilled their dark, ugly fantasies on me.
“Her holes are too tight. I see why the old man chose her,” said one as he wiped his cum-coated cock on my lips.
“He will not touch her after today,” said another. “Not after he sees her like this.”
“How does that help us? We have to get our hands on this property,” the 3rd one said. “Let’s ruin these paintings before he returns. If we can’t have this house, then he can’t have his paintings either.”
“No, wait,” I wailed. “You promised to leave the artwork untouched. Please don’t damage them.”
“Nobody remains unharmed after tonight,” hissed the 5th son. “Neither you, nor the paintings, nor us. You lost nothing. We lost everything.”
I could not stop them from vandalising the canvases. My battered and bruised body did not have any strength left to fight with them. I lay on the ground sobbing. At the same time, the 5 monsters pounced on the artwork with scissors and paint.
They tore open the paintings with scissors and kitchen knives and doused them in black paint. Every single work of Guruji was destroyed right in front of my eyes. All portraits of me and the previous ones were ruined beyond repair. And they left soon after issuing me a warning.
“We will return to do this to you if you ever inherit this property.”
Chapter 8 – The Masterpiece
Guruji returned late that night, about an hour after his sons left. They had left the main door open while leaving. And Guruji came straight to the studio and saw the carnage left behind.
I was still lying on the floor naked. With cum dripping out of my cavities. One look at my condition and the massacred paintings, and he knew what had happened.
He left the house immediately without saying a single word. I waited all night for him to return, but he did not. In the morning, I washed myself and decided to shift to the rented apartment I was living in earlier. I promised myself that I would only go back to that old house once Guruji returned.
But he never came back. I kept waiting for his main door to open, for him to appear on the balcony. I passed by his house 10 times every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But there was no sign of him.
A week later, a letter arrived from his lawyer. It said that the entire house, along with the land, had been donated to an orphanage, and they would be arriving soon. And I should take back my possessions, if any, left behind in the house. I could also claim any of the furniture if I so wanted.
I called up the lawyer and told him that I was not interested in the furniture. I just wanted to know where the old man was and when he would be back. The lawyer said he had no information whatsoever on Guruji’s whereabouts or his plans to return.
But he had something for me, which he would be sending shortly via Bluedart courier.
In the next 3 days, the orphanage guys turned up in their trucks and moved into the old house. They disposed of some of the ancient furniture and all of the damaged paintings. My heart sank when I saw Guruji’s life’s work being loaded onto garbage trucks.
But those were damaged beyond repair, and I could not keep any with me.
The following day, my parcel arrived via Bluedart. It was a big frame covered in cardboard and Styrofoam. My heart kept pounding rapidly as I opened the box and removed all the packing materials. What I discovered was beyond my wildest expectations.
It was a canvas, a portrait. The old man had finished his masterpiece. He must have hidden it somewhere in the house, presumably to prevent me from taking a peek before it was ready. He must have given that hidden location to his lawyer, who picked it up and sent it to me.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I finally saw it standing in front of me. The portrait was that of a beautiful girl, young and radiant. She is lying on her back with her legs parted. White lilies and yellow primrose cover her cavities.
His skin was painted with milky white cum collected by Guruji after our lovemaking sessions.
Never in my life have I looked so divine and pure, neither in photos nor in imagination. The portrait turned an ordinary girl like me into a virgin angel. And at its bottom were written the following words.
“To Shilpi: The young girl who lives down the lane.
Signed: Avinash Bhargav.”
Avinash Bhargav never returned. I guess he blamed himself for what happened to me. Maybe he felt guilty or responsible somehow. Or maybe he could never muster up enough courage to face me again.
Avinash Bhargav never called. Never wrote to me. I begged the lawyer again and again to share some information about him. But he declined every time and denied any knowledge of his whereabouts.
Avinash Bhargav’s sons never turned up either. I guess they came to know about the fate of the property eventually. And decided to stay away. I blame them to this day for taking my guru away from me.
Avinash Bhargav was the first true love of my life. The only person I surrendered myself to, unconditionally and completely. The society called our relationship illicit. But I called it pure.
Avinash Bhargav was a loner and a lover. He lives on in my memory and in the masterpiece he left behind for me. He was an old man who lived down the lane. He was my world.
Concluded.