Establishing Boundaries - 2 (Grief)

TW – Grief, death.

Grief knows none! 

I think that it is grief alone that knows no boundaries. 

 As I started writing this series on boundaries, I went down the rabbit hole thinking how many of them were violated and how many times. About how I had to learn to establish some boundaries more than others. About how I had to let go of some people because they would refuse to respect my boundaries. And also, about how I had to let go of some people because their other people could not respect boundaries.

I thought of the unbridled tears that had practically washed my face for months in the metro after I lost someone close, and tried to keep myself in check at home, at work, and every place else. 

And that brought to front some of the saddest losses in my life. A friend I wished I had been more in touch with during their last stages. Another whom I had just patched up with before I lost them to a sudden cardiac arrest. 

And, as I write this piece, I burst into silent tears, even though I am sitting in a café. 

Further, as I think of my personal loss, I wonder if there are any boundaries to human connection really? Does collective grief not unite even strangers. I think of Covid. I think of deaths, I think of sickness, I think of so many pyres burning together. I think of the farmers’ protests and the profound sadness that had engulfed the collective consciousness those days. 

And then I thought of the wars. Communal hatred, the oppression of one country by another. I thought of how people fight in the name of religion, nationalism, caste, creed, increasingly in the gender. And it took my thoughts back to privilege, power, and abuse of power. 

I think of people who would use power and logic, and verbal prowess, and manipulation as tools to abuse others’ trust. 

I shiver. 

I think of how boundaries protect people from narcs, abusers, predators, etc. And then I settle for the fact that boundaries are important. 

I am wondering at the moment if death is the only real, true, ultimate boundary. 

But, I know better.

In shared grief, humanity sometimes draws a different kind of boundary. The boundary of unified solidarity. 

That boundary, or the lack of it, I will take any day.

And till I come back from the precipice of that boundary, that edge, 

Stay safe. Play well.

Asmi

Establishing Boundaries - 1

 While it's been a long time, no see, and I will definitely catch up on the backlog, here's something new...

Some one recently asked me to share my insights about boundaries and establishing them – both in kink and otherwise.

I think having strong boundaries is a function of a lot of things. It’s a combination of how we’ve been raised, what we have learnt in regard to power, authority, autonomy, and even emotions like loneliness etc.  It is also about self-discovery and the sense of being sure or not sure about what one wants or doesn’t.

Since it’s easiest to take my own example, that’s the subjective reference I will use to demonstrate what I wrote above. In my experience, the first step to establishing boundaries is the freedom and ability to say a no.

I was raised in a conventional family. This means, a dominating father and a docile, submissive mother. The usual as well as finer internalized layers of patriarchy and misogyny permeating our very existence.

That said, early on in my life, I was allowed to question everything, anything, and anyone I wanted, including my father. I think that’s a curse of democratic parents – They are the first authority their children question. In retrospect, I can now see the struggle my father faced on a daily basis.

There is this particular incident I remember vividly. I must have been 9 or something. I was with my father at his workplace, and he found a book for me to read in the library, He brought it to me to see if I was interested in reading it (Yeah, one of the few privileges I had was a VERY SOLID foundation in education for life). I said – I didn’t want to read it.

The librarian was surprised and blurted – Beta, you should not refuse your father’s suggestion! I didn’t know how to respond to that statement, so I looked to my father. He responded on my behalf – Ma’am, I think it’s OK. I trust her choices in this sense. I have made her read enough by now (I used to read 100 full-length books a year by then – Mostly well-curated fiction classics), to ask her for her opinion and for me to respect her choices even if I might not like them.

The two of them got into a more detailed discussion about how my father was OK with me calling out people, or my freedom to disagree, or to point out if I thought they were wrong. Even if it was my own father. Beyond this I got bored and submerged myself in another book, and didn’t register the rest of the conversation.

But this I think is the beginning of me establishing my boundaries. The fact that a parent asked me what my preferences / boundaries were, and they did not let another adult question them. The fact that I had the freedom to say ‘no. The fact that my judgement was trusted and there was a basis for it, beyond me being my father’s daughter.

All these were the early seeds of a lot of what I said in the earlier part of this piece.

Now some of us may not have experienced these snippets of privilege. My response to that is – Any learning (like coding, language), even EQ, or for that matter even establishing boundaries – is a function of practice. It’s like building a muscle that you weren’t aware existed. It exists, it can be learnt, it needs to be practiced.

The first step to do that is to give yourself the grace and freedom to say no. Oh sure, it shouldn’t be rebelling without a reason to rebel. It shouldn’t be a ‘no’ even when there’s value in the suggestion. It shouldn’t be a ‘no’ for the mere heck of it. However, before anything else, you need to ask yourself – Can you say a no?

If not, that’s the first thing you need to learn – You’re an individual and while your ‘no’ will have consequences, it is your fundamental right to be able to say it when you need / want to.

I will take it further from here in the next piece. Till then,

Happy intimacy

Asmi

 

His...7 (A long work of Erotica)

  Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

    Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
    Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
    I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
    A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
    Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.


________________________________

"Baby, if you are reading this, I am dead. Or at least sufficiently presumed to be so."

The letter began.

Mini sat stoically and read on. Krishnan sat next to her, reading the letter with her. He averted his gaze to the wall in front of her. This princess-styled room made him a bit queasy. It brought out his protective side way more than he liked it to be revealed. Mini turned to him, and handed over the crisp, pearl white sheet to him. Nodding to him, she let him read the letter as she bent over the box of journals to drag it with her good hand.

Krishnan was distracted momentarily by her pert, inviting bottom as she bent over the box, and then pulled himself back to the letter. As he read Anurag's graceful cursive hand, and choked back his tears. He missed the man. Terribly so.

_______________________________________________

Baby, if you are reading this, I am dead. Or at least sufficiently presumed to be so."

You will receive my journals. You may choose to read them or not. I want you to read them from beginning to end.

Not at the cost of your study, or work, whatever it is you do now. You know I would have no tolerance for that.

I wonder if you're reading them with Krishnan, or alone. I would like if you read these journals together, but it is your decision to make. Mini, this is my legacy to you, to do as you please.

I am aware that Bhaiya and Abhishek would have read them. It is alright. There's nothing in those letters that you can read and they can't. The vice versa is true as well. One thing I trust is their integrity. So, you will get the journals unedited, intact.

I have paid attention to not include any business sensitive, or potentially damaging pieces of information. However, I have ensured that I include all that would matter to you. All that I would want to teach you, to show you, to help you explore if you wished.

I am sorry I am not around to do that. But know that I always love you.

Forever, and then more.

Love,
Anu Da

__________________________________________________

They looked at each other, relieved that it was OK to read these journals together.

She opened the first page. It was dated some ten years ago.

"I was horny the entire day today", it began.

"WOW!" she shook her head.

"I was horny the entire day today... It is a sad day. I am struggling. I need comfort. I am angry. I wish there was some way to channelize this anger. I am overwhelmed. I am even concerned... my baby, my kid sister. I cannot see her in pain. Pramila came today, but I am not sure if I want to see her today. Of course I know that she wants to fuck because she thinks it will help me feel normal again. But it feels so wrong. How can one grieve and also enjoy fuckery together?"

Mini shrank. With embarassment, what with Anurag laying his innermost thoughts open in front of his sister. AFTER being dead. And what with her own desires, for Krishnan. Sitting so close. Her hands she clasped in her own lap, overcautious of not to lettheir bodies touch. It was wrong afterall. Even Anu Da felt it was wrong.

Krishnan and she turned pages, full of Anurag's turmoil, his emotional dilemmas, and yet his desires. Mini blinked. She was overwhelmed. Tired. Horny. Grieving. Lonely. Relieved that Krishnan sat next to her. Mostly she was tired. This was too much to process.

She lifted her head, and looked at Krishnan. "Sir, I have a headache now", she tried to hide her bloodshot eyes, by averting her gaze.

Krishnan leaned across her, reaching for a bookmark. Her table always had one too many.

He marked the page, closed the notebook, and nodded. Lost deep in thought.

"Drink some water first. Hydrating helps."

She drank from the glass on the side table, put it back. Her cast was gone, but her hand wasn't fully functional yet. She was working with a physiotherapist.

"How is it healing? Does the therapy hurt a lot?"

She quietly nodded and lay down, trying to adjust the covers with one hand.

He pulled the blankets over her, tucked her in, a little too tenderly for a giant man his size and turned around to switch the lights off and close the door; when he felt her fingers tug at his.

Quizzically he looked at her and she pointed to her forehead and pleaded, "Please?"

Krishnan was torn. He wanted her. He wanted her body. He wanted all of her. What she offered was just a forehead kiss. But it was hers to have, and his to give. He knew her enough to realize that even if he refused, she wouldn't hold it against him. Consent had been a big thing with this family. They were all raised with that education.

"What if I will want more?" He gave it back to her. Straightshooter. As always.

She blinked. She sensed he wanted more. She knew he always talked straight. But this? She had not expected him to ask her.

"We can talk about that. Anytime you like.", she tried to sit up, but he gently shoved her shoulder back, not allowing her to rise.

"Yes we will. Later. One moment at a time.". He said in a calm, serene voice, kissed her forehead, stroked her hair once, and left.


©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His...6 (A long work of Erotica)

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

    Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
    Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
    I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
    A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
    Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.


________________________________

"These are not for anyone else's eye. She is an adult and none of you can stop her from having what Anurag specifically left for her. Plus it doesn't have any business-sensitive information. Nor does it have anything that Mini can be blackmailed for. It poses absolutely no risk for Mini's physical, legal, or financial safety. I have made sure of that." The object in question was a box of journals.

Advocate Bajaj was executing Anurag's will. Most of his assets had gone back to the family business, and family trust. Some amount had been set aside for his two sisters. His journals and his documents had been scruitinized by Bajaj, both as a family lawyer, as well as the brother-in-law. Additionally, as their family and business counselor, he had already shown them to Dr. Mathur.

It was Dr. Mathur's wife who suspected that the journals may have information related to Anurag's sexual escapades, his relationships, Pramila even. She feared it would corrupt Mins.

Mins sat quiet, her hands in her lap. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

Krishnan's keen eye could observe her being on edge. Krishnan had a place on the table. He was considered family by EVERYONE, in EVERY WAY, except that they couldn't have adopted an adult legally. Or they would have.

Krishnan gently patted Mini's knee, almost rhythmically, as one would pat a child to a lull. It seemed to be working too.

"Mini, do you wish to open these journals? You don't have to. This can wait. Do you think it would affect your emotions? What do you feel like doing?" asked Dr. Mathur. He had his blindspots, but he believed in agency.

"Bhaiya, I am 22. I am from a family of doctors. I have seen enough blood and Gore. I know exactly what humans do, even if I may not understand all their motives."

"Bhabhi, ab mujhe koi kya hi bigadega? What has the power to destroy your upbringing and spoil me or impact me negatively after all these years Bhabhi?", she turned towards her sister-in-law. The matron looked at the young girl thoughtfully, and finally nodded. Her shoulders sank in surrender and she nodded to Bajaj.

Back in her room, Mini looked at the journals. They were all dated. 12 years. Since that fateful day, till the day before Anurag and she had landed in the hospital. There was also an envelop. Embossed. Formal. It was a part of Anurag's official stationary.

Mini knew Bajaj had definitely gone through each word in those notebooks, and in that letter. And that Bhaiya had surely seen it. But Krishnan? Mini needed him.

She sighed, put the letter in her drawer and walked towards Krishnan's room.

"Knock. Knock Knock." This was Mini's specific knock.

Krishnan startled from his reverie, groaned at his half-erect cock, and spoke out, "Give me a minute!".

Quickly, he pulled on a pair of Pajamas, tied the drawstrings, pulled his tee lower, and opened the door.

"I need you. Please!" Mini, looked at his biceps. When he wore formals, they weren't that obvious. Right now? He looked ravishing to her.

Krishnan looked at her quizzically, an eyebrow arched.

"I need you to be with me when I read. I don't think I can do it alone". There. The tears again. Not brimming, but welling up for sure.

She was still grieving. It had just been a month.

He just nodded, turned around, picked his phone, closed his room and walked with her to hers.

©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His... 5 (A long work of Erotica)

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

1. Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
2. Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
3. I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
4. A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
5. Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.

________________________________

"Krishnan Bhaiya, Mini baby fainted again", Rani didi, the maid stood at the door, all worked up, tears almost welling up in her eyes. Rani Didi had been Mini's babysitter since the latter had been a young toddler.

Rani was barely 15 when Mins was born. Today when Mins was young, beautiful, 22. Rani didi was not more than 38 either. She cared for Mins. She had always been there for the Mathurs and Anurag to help them with Mins since that fateful day 10 years ago.

Krishnan sighed, collected his stethoscope, pointed towards the equipment kit, and simply walked towards the room across the hall. Rani did would get the BP machine, the thermometer, the oximeter, and the sugar measuring machines. This home had doctors for generations. This home was a half-equipped nursing home in itself.

Mins had been fainting since Anurag's funeral. Her scans were normal. Her blood work was normal. Her vitals were fine. Yet, she kept fainting. Krishnan had restricted her movement on stairs, or outside the home for the time being. With Anurag gone, Dr. Mathur was nose-deep in dealing with his own grief, inthe only way he knew how to. He had thrown himself into work and into sorting Anurag's affairs with their family lawyer.

Adv. Bajaj was not only the Mathurs' family lawyer. He was also their son-in-law. Abhishek was a Harvard-qualified lawyer who had done his chartered accountancy before studying law, and eventually management. The Mathurs trusted him. Their daughter loved him. There was no reason for Abhishek and his wife to not look out for the Mathurs' interests.

Ties in this family WERE strange for a family where such wealth, power, and skill were concentrated. They were really loving people. They were bonded together with love. Of course, they weren't perfect. They each had their blindspots, but they were good people. They had been raised well. They were ethical. Only that some of them were VERY VERY dead now.

Thoughts reeled in Krishnan's head as he entered Mins' room, and nodded to Rani Didi. They measured all the vitals again. Everything was OK.

"Rani didi, iske pairon ki maalish karo, aur thodi thodi haathon ki bhi. Sab normal hai, weakness hogi. Isne kuchh khaya hai?", Krishnan inquired if she had eaten anything as he instructed Rani to massage Mins' hands and feet.

"No Bhaiya, she hasn't eaten much except toast and coffee at the breakfast".

Krishnan groaned inwardly. He just didn't want to unleash his anger at this brat. Not yet.

He took the oil bottle from Rani's hand and spread some on his hand. "Please get a glass of fresh nariyal pani", he told her. As Rani left for the kitchen, Krishnan was already applying oil to Mins' feet. Gently rubbing her soles, Krishnan pulled her toes a bit, kneading her soles to ensure all pressure points were treated just right.

If Krishnan had his way, he would prescribe massages twice a week for Mins. Perhaps give her one himself every week. "Focus!", he chided himself mentally and shook his head. He worked his way through her soles to her ankles. He went and soaped his hands in the princess washroom, dried them, and now decided to work her palms.

Rani didi was already there and had set the glass of fresh coconut water on the side table. She stood there silently, watching him, as he gently spread a few drops of the almond oil on his palms, and lifted Mins' right palm.

Did her fingers twitch around his? He wondered. Again. He felt her fingertips press against his as he applied oil to her palms.

"Rani didi, either sit or continue with your chores, as you wish please", Krishnan instructed Rani. She smiled and left for the kitchen again. "Please leave the door open", he called after Rani. That she did. She liked Krishnan Bhaiya. He was always a gentleman.

Mins moaned softly as Krishnan continued to gently massage her palms. She slowly opened her eyes. Deep, sad, unfathomable grief. Her eyes were expressive. Honest. They were incapable of lying. How the room used to light up when she smiled :)

Krishnan knew the impact Mini's smile had on his friend's mood. Anurag loved his sister unconditionally. Her smiles seemed to justify his existence. All the rest of him, the charming, the dashing, the handsome, the successful, the skilled Anurag; they all came after the brother came. The brother came first. And Mins? Her smile? It came before him.

Oh, and Krishnan wasn't naive. He did realize that he was as smitten with her smile, as Anurag had been. Just not as a brother. And the little vixen wasn't all that naive either. She knew the effect she could have on him.

In general, she was a gentle, submissive, adorable, brat. This little vulnerable china doll. She was mischievous, she was playful, flirty even, but she wasn't manipulative. She wasn't a cocktease. She was just smitten. Smitten with him.

So, when Mins' fingers gripped Krishnan's, he held her. Gently. Holding her against him, he moved a bit, adjusting himself. Gently rocking her, as one would rock a child. Soaking in their common grief. They grieved in silence together.

The reverie was broken when Krishnan brought the nariyal pani to her lips. Her eyes welled up again. She tried to sip a bit and then shook her head.

"Drink!" Krishnan's voice turned hard. "You need to recover. And you will do that either willingly, or I will ensure that you do that. Choose!", He sounded angry.

Mins cringed. She hated to make Anurag da or Krishnan angry. She could never think of Krishnan as 'bhaiya'. She had always been attracted to Krishnan.

"What?", Krishnan was frustrated.

Mins cringed and pulled back, avoiding his gaze. Why did it turn her on so much? This fear of his being upset?

Krishnan sighed. He didn't enjoy scaring people. Especially people he cared for. Krishnan was tall. He worked out. So, even at his leanest, he could look like this huge giant. Moreso, from where Mins was.

At 4.10 Mins was tiny. She was curvy, but she was a child. He didn't like to scare her. But he needed her to regroup. They would be executing Anurag's will soon and Mins needed to gather herself. With Dr. Mathur MIA on this front, Krishnan was left to deal with this petite brat. And God! It was tough! His raging hardons were not the most cooperative.

"Sorry Sir". That's what Mins had always called him. Sir. It frustrated him. It made him feel responsible. It aroused him. And, there was nothing he could do about it.

She drank up the whole glass of coconut water, eyes still brimming with tears.

"Good girl", he took the glass from her and petted her shoulder with his left hand. Her arm was around her, holding her gently. Like a giant would hold a fragile princess. His gaze and his voice softened. His cock? Well, it had a mind of its own. Thank God for Indian ethnic wear.

"Now sleep for a bit. You need to rest and recover."

He gently helped her lie down. On the side that avoided strain on her broken elbow.

Mins groaned inwardly, "Why does his stern voice turn me on so much?". This was her last thought as she drifted to sleep.

©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His... 4 (A long work of Erotica)

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

    Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
    Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
    I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
    A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
    Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.


________________________________


Krishnan was sitting in his room holding his head in his hands. That niggling feeling he had? There was more to it. However, he didn't know how to define it. He didn't know enough to connect dots. He knew that Pramila's parents, specially his mother blamed Anurag for Pramila's death. They even blamed Anurag's parents for not pushing him to marry Pramila.

Anurag was rich, successful, a talented surgeon in making, second in line to be the heir of an empire of hospitals, creative, handsome, charming. He was a poster boy for an eligible bachelor.

Pramila on the other hand? She was hot, sexy, confident, and beautiful. Her priorities were misplaced though. She thought she could make her way in the world by marrying a hotshot. Anurag was nothing to her but just another sex toy and her pass to a rich, lavish lifestyle. True, she was a doctor like the rest of them, but she was neither interested in studying or growing further, nor in business. She just wanted to finish the degree and be a socialite wife.

It was all good as long as Anurag and Pramila remained exclusive. But, things started changing once they opened their relationship. Early on in their relationship, Pramila had wanted to include other people. Anurag was reluctant, but after their first menage-a-trois with another girl, he had let loose. In fact, it had been Anurag to suggest that Krishnan be the guy they experiment with. He trusted Krishnan. He felt secure around him.

But they didn't know Krishnan. No one really knew Krishnan. Or understood him.

Krishnan had been raised by his uncle in Europe after Krishnan's abusive father finally left his mother, and she committed suicide. His uncle legally adopted him. His uncle, who was gay, who practiced BDSM, who had more than one lover; and yet was the best parent Krishnan could have had. He hid nothing. He avoided nothing. He answered all of Krishnan's questions. Even sponsored his higher education.

It was only recently that Krishnan stopped taking money from his uncle. Krishnan sometimes wondered. Where was all his dominance, empathy, and affection rooted? Was it in his father's abusiveness? His mother's sense of defeat? Or in his uncle's unconditional love mixed with the in-the-face upbringing that he provided for Krishnan.

Krishnan's cock twitched again. That night, with Anurag and Pramila. Anurag was silent while Krishnan ordered Pramila to strip.

"Kneel !", he had barked. She couldn't resist.
"Crawl !", he pointed to the floor in between Anurag and him. She obeyed.
"Touch yourself !", Anurag sat there gapingly.

Pramila had writhed that night. She had been ordered to suck Anurag. She had been beaten with a crop numerous times. Whenever she tried to behave like the sexy vixen she was, she had been made to give up the facade. She had been made vulnerable, to reveal her inner submissive, beneath the brat that she projected herself to be.

That night Pramila didn't get to orgasm. Krishnan had guided Anurag in pleasing her, not with the same dominance that he showed towards Pramila. Anurag was his friend, his friend. Pramila, was just a brat that Krishnan was hoping to tame for his brother.

Krishnan stroked himself, even though he felt guilty for being aroused thinking of a girl who was now dead, and her boyfriend, his best friend, whose body had just been cremated. But Krishnan didn't judge himself. He knew that physical release was one of the ways he could clear his mind. He knew that such desperate moments of loneliness could make one more needy for sex. And that it was OK!

Krishnan came, as he remembered how Pramila had sucked Anurag that night. She had taken him deeper than ever before. Anurag said this. She had agreed. She had consented to taste a different kind of lovemaking that night. Everything that Pramila did was consensual. And Krishnan? He had acted like a saintly dungeon master. Plus he wasn't interested in brats himself. Additionally, Pramila and Anurag wanted him, just to teach them what he knew. Not for him to be their third wheel. He didn't want that either.

He wanted.... Something else. Someone else. He wanted, rather needed surrender, complete submission. Someone who would look up to him, cherish him, and not just because. Someone who tested his resolve, his will, and loved him as fiercely as he would love her.

Krishnan knew who he wanted. He wanted... Mins. Since the day the girl had turned 18, she had been hitting on him. He had resolved to do or say nothing till she finished her Masters. But now, with Anurag dead... He needed her. He needed to protect her.

Krishnan wiped his hand on a tissue nearby and zipped his fly. He got up, turned on the tap, soaping his long, slender, skilled surgeon's fingers, and then letting his hands soak for a bit under the warm tap water.

"Knock knock!" Someone was at the door.

©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His... 3 (A long work of Erotica)

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

1. Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
2. Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
3. I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
4. A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
5. Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.

________________________________


Anurag was dreaming incoherently as Krishnan and Mins entered his room. "I'm... sorry Pram. Forgive me...K and I should have taken more care.... Sorry"

Mins was livid as she heard the name Pram. Krishnan on the other hand sighed. He was more clued in, on Pramila singh, and Anurag's dream after all.

Pramila had been bad news from the word go. Entitled, reckless, irresponsible, going around pricking people with the same needle and calling it fun. Yet most people seemed to be falling head over heals for her.

When Pramila and Anurag started dating, Krishnan decided to be Anurag's self-appointed wingman. He kept a polite and watchful eye on the woman. Anurag and Pramila went to bars, parties, munches, play parties. The more Anurag indulged her, the more extreme her kinks got.

Krishnan's cock twitched involuntarily as he remembered the single time when Anurag and Pramila invited him into their bed. Krishnan knew he had not been coerced, or manipulated. He had consented to experience with his best friend and his snooty entitled girl-friend something exquisite.

Anurag was more of a lover-Dom. Krishnan on the other hand could be a sadist when playing. Pramila wanted to taste that. Krishnan would teach her well. He would ensure he put her in her place. That night? He did put her in her place.

He made her bend to his while and his crop, her body he bent, her mind he dominated. The hot Pramila, the wild Pramila, the overconfident Pramila who thought her body was her biggest currency, the mouth Pramila.

Eventually turned into a whimpering slut, begging to be touched, to be allowed release, to be allowed to yield. That night Krishnan and Anurag sat and talked. Pramila was left tied, horny, dripping, and wanting.

The next morning, she was a different person.

But then, the accident happened. The fateful night, that turned their whole world upside down. Anurag's parents. The car crash. Mins. Anurag transformed into a person no one would have ever imagined him to be.

Over the next few months, Anurag was centered around Mins.

Pramila mentioned, complained, even whined. She couldn't prioritize. Obviously. They were wrong to think that a single session could have changed a person. Play isn't therapy. And entitled princesses aren't exactly givers. Guess you can bring out a bitch in heat, but you can't take the bitch out of someone.

No one could have imagined what happened next. Till it happened. On that fateful night. That night when Mins had made the first attempt on her life. While Anurag and Krishnan were rushing the child to the hospital Pramila was planning an attention seeking stunt of her own.

She texted, called Anurag some 15 times that night. He silenced his phone.

The next morning, doctors in the hospital told them that Mins had survived. On the other hand, they discovered that Pramila had died. Inside sources said it was a self-bondage experiment that had gone horridly wrong.

The Singh family were powerful. They blamed Anurag for not responding to their daughter's distress calls. Anurag's alibi however was more than perfect. Genuine too.

Anurag never stopped blaming himself.

Mins however, blamed Pram for making her brother sad, when she discovered what had happened. She had been simply told Pramila didi died the night Mins could have. She was angry at Pram. She had never liked Pram in the first place.

Krishnan thought differently. He knew suicide wasn't so easy to fathom. He also knew that Pramila's mishap was NOT an attempt on her life. It was an accident. One that could have been avoided. But an accident nonetheless.

As Mins and Krishnan sat quietly holding Anurag's hand, Krishnan couldn't help but think of all of this. Suddenly the monitors started beeping erratically. Anurag pressed the call button and dialed a quick dial on his phone. Suddenly a flurry of nurses and doctors started moving in and out.

Mins were gently but firmly moved out of their way. Her heart leaped in her mouth. She could feel it in her gut. It was like this sinking feeling again. The kind she had with mum and dad more than 10 years ago.

Suddenly the monitor went blank with a long beep. There was pin-drop silence in the room!

©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His...2 (A long work of Erotica)

 

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

1. Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
2. Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
3. I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
4. A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
5. Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.

________________________________


"Come. I'll take you to him." His heart went out to her. His own grief hidden behind that mask of professional politeness. He took her to the room just next to hers and held her close. He didn't want her to panic. He needed her to have a grip on herself right now.

Dr. Krishnan had known Dr. Mathur's family for a little more than a decade now. Anurag and Krishnan had become friends in the final year of their degree. He knew Dr. Mathur understood the consequences of the accident. Dr. Mathur understood that his younger brother might not survive these injuries. As the head of the family, perhaps he would also be able to handle and calm down the rest of his family. Krishnan knew that the Mathur family would grieve. For long. But, they would survive.

This girl, however? In a family of 5 siblings, she was the youngest and almost 11 years their junior. Anurag was the second eldest brother, and the lifeline she had for the last 10 years since the Mathurs lost their parents. She was only 12 when they passed away in a similar accident. She was with them. She had miraculously survived.

She had made multiple attempts on her own life over the next few years. Anurag had been the one to pull her out. His unfathomable love for her, his endless patience, his vigilance.

10 years later, the girl had grown into a remarkably intelligent, beautiful, and strong young woman. No one could even imagine the extent of the darkness she had gone through. The only remnants left in the wake of that accident were the scars on her wrists and the way she clung to her brother.

But this? Krishnan knew Anurag won't survive. But his baby sister? Will she be able to recover? Will she survive this? Krishnan didn't have any answers.

As he held her and walked into Anurag's room, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was too much of a coincidence to happen to a family and a young girl like this. The Mathurs were a well-respected, well-known, powerful family in the country. All of them had been very respectable doctors for 3 generations now.

They owned multiple multi-specialty hospitals. Yet they had kept this hi-tech, yet nondescript facility completely out of the public eye; strictly for family and friends. And then they meet with two accidents, both equally devastating, taking down someone critical to the family, and the businesses. And the survivor was the same in both cases.

There was this niggling feeling that Krishnan was unable to shake off. He didn't know what to make of all this. But he was uneasy. Significantly so.

He wondered if he was in danger too. Not that he cared. He had no family. The Mathurs had been his family since the word 'go'. It was all the more important that he listened to his intuition.

Was there something sinister at play here? He had his suspicions. He also knew who to share this with. He needed to talk to Anurag's elder brother. Dr. Mathur was the only person who Krishnan could trust right now. But this would need to wait.

Right now? He needed to deal with Anurag. And his baby sister. Right now, she needed him.


©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

His...1 (A long work of Erotica)

 Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

1. Any resemblance with any person living or dead is coincidental. All characters are 18+.
2. Any choice of names is random, and not indicative on any caste, religion etc. The setting is in India, so readers need to NOT PROJECT THEIR BIASES on my work.
3. I write for my pleasure. At my pace. I'm mindful of trigger warnings where they matter, but I don't overapologize. I am aware of FL limits, legal limits, boundaries in general.
4. A lot of my fictional work is dark and deals with themes of depression, violence, rough sex, non-consent self-harm, suicide etc. So, if any of these themes are potentially triggering for you, I request you to please not read thhe work and focus on self-care.
5. Apart from that, I take time to build my stories. The way I want. So, if this is too harsh, too mild, too little, too much, whine elsewhere. If this is too much sex, too little sex, too realistic, too unrealistic, too much plot, too much dialogue, take your judgement / opinion and put it where it belongs. Unless you're my writing mentor. Because - YKINMK.

________________________________

There was pain. A lot of pain! Searing pain!

She couldn't move her left hand. She moved her neck, but was unable to see what was stopping her from moving it. There was nothing. Perhaps she broke her bones. Maybe she was dying. There was another flash of hot, searing pain, and she drifted..in and out.. lots of voices, sounds, an ambulance perhaps somewhere. She saw a glimpse of a white lab coat. "A doctor", she thought. A wave of relief hit her, and she passed out.

She woke up and found herself in a hospital. Machines, monitors, IV tubes. It looked foreign. She didn't know hospitals like that existed in India. A kind, friendly face came into her sight, the brown eyes peering into hers. She blinked. She seemed to know this man, but couldn't recognize him. She blinked again.

He smiled. Kindly, gently.

Even in the hospital, she blushed, just a bit. Her brother's batchmate.

Her brother!

She panicked. Where was her brother? Where was Anurag???

Dr. Krishnan put his hand on her shoulder gently.

"Anurag is alive. He's critical, but he survives. I need to ensure that you're fine before I let you see him. Will you let me do that?"

She nodded.

"Any aches? Any pains? Except your left elbow that is?", he asked as he poked and prodded her around her right shoulder, arm, her shoulder, her back, her ribs. His hand brushing her right breast accidentally.

She blushed but shook her head. Her left elbow was in a caste.

"Your joint broke into 6 pieces Mins", he addressed her with her pet name. "There was bone loss. We've operated it, fixed it, it will look normal, but it will never be back to 100% efficiency." Dr. Krishnan gave it as it was. Anurag and Krishnan were both like that. Doctors, friends, brothers, and straight shooters. They said things as they were. Kindly, yet honestly. Always.

"Is he stable?" her voice choked.

He looked at her keenly as he put his hand out. "Hold my hand and slowly try to get off the bed and stand up", he focused on the task at hand. She sulked but obeyed. She knew better than to argue or snap. She knew from experience, it never worked on the man. She had known him for almost a decade now.

"Anything? At all?" He looked at her, concerned. She shook her head. Apart from the pain in the elbow, she felt absolutely alright. Even the anaesthesia had worn off completely.

"I am fine. Please. Now tell me. Is he stable? Where is he? I need to see him please!" Her voice choked again, her anxiety finally getting the better of her, eyes welled up.

©Asmi Uniqus Dec 2022

After 10 years, I am not sure if I love him anymore.

Hi Asmi,

We’ve been married together for 10 years. We were love married to begin with and have successful careers and a great friendship. Our family and friends think we’re an amazing couple. But after 10 years, I am not sure if I love him anymore. The sex is infrequent too. We still care for each other and I feel guilty that I don’t love him the same way as I did once. I wonder how can I fix this? 

Imperfect and ashamed

Dear Real-and-beautiful,

Yes, I chose that name for you because I think that’s who you are. Real and honest about how you feel and beautiful on the inside.

First off, thank you for acknowledging that something is amiss. It’s important to acknowledge that something isn’t how it used to be, or how you would want it to be. However, it is critical for you to resolve the emotional upheaval your feelings are causing in you.

I am sure you already know this, but I will repeat – people change all the time. So does love.

You’ve loved each other for 10 years. Been with each other, had arguments, heated debates hopefully, and have made love to each other passionately, am sure. I do not know if you have children together, but if you do, then you’ve both crossed that milestone together too. 

In the process, you’ve changed. Tremendously. Together and individually, you as well as your husband have changed. And, so has your love.

You see, love comes in multiple forms.

When we’re young, it often comes as infatuation. Later sometime as desire, then as lust, and with a special person or more, as romance. It comes in the form of affection, care, commitment, giving, intense sexual attraction. Love also sometimes comes in the form of unhealthy obsession, manipulation or abuse. Add to it the fact that love and its forms change as people change. 

Is it possible that you might be considering this change as fading out of the chemistry? Have you spoken to your partner about it yet? Have you tried to find new ways of reigniting your spark together? Maybe you both want to take a small vacation together? 

Perhaps you just want to book yourselves an OYO for a weekend getaway, even if in the same city. Or, you might want to explore the sensual rather than the sexual or the emotional rather than the sensual? Go learn dancing together or take up running or jogging with each other every evening and reconnect with each other.

While I have listed a few things, you can do to spark and reignite the love you once shared, let me emphasize again. You both need to talk first. It is very possible that he doesn’t even feel like your love is fading. It’s also possible that he also feels the same way and wants to rediscover your love, but is hesitating in telling you. So the first step is to buckle up and speak to him gently about it. I’m sure you will discover another facet of the love you both share. 

Much Love,

Asmi

The People I meet

Today, let’s talk a bit about the people I meet. I am socially extremely active. At one point I was almost a serial dating enthusiast. That said, I still meet one person outside my family, every day. I try to meet at least 3 new people a week. I must admit, I have slowed down much. Over last decade and more, I have met at least 2000 + men. 

The truth is that I end up meeting men lot more than I meet women. This is true for multiple reasons. In this post, I will try and share some insight into how and what platforms do I meet people from; what kind of people; why more men than women; and some common categories in which these people can be classified.

I meet people both online and offline. I am a very extrovert, easy to approach and communicative person. Or, so I have been told. I end up talking to my autorickshaw puller (some of you’re rolling your eyes right now). I do that as a rule. I have learnt over time that the road side fruit seller, the grocery store keeper, the server at the restaurant, the maid that cleans up for the next-door neighbours, are some of the most insightful people I have met. 

When I say I meet one new person a day, it means, I sit down, have a heart to heart, coffee or a meal with them and see what can be done to drive value to their life, or for that matter, mine. I have done that with men from tinder, men and women I came to know at my poetry open mics, candidates I interviewed but didn’t hire, meet up groups, my local Buddhism congregation, my social media acquaintances, temples, parks, dating apps, professional networks and even anonymous apps like Whisper for that matter.

My rule is simple. There are stories to be told, stories waiting to be heard. I want to be one of the people doing that. 

Do I talk to all these people about sexuality? Not necessarily, but in some or the other form, yes. In some or the other form. My maid talks to me of her reproductive health. The auto guys talk to me about their families and I divert the conversation to their wives and other women folk in their family. The direction of the conversation usually goes to their daughters, safety of women, feminism, communication, sexual discourse and more. 

My tinder and other dates are invariably at some point intrigued and interested in my lifestyle. 99.9% days I come back alone. I am not really a hookup person. I do hope though, that I leave them with some food for thought. I certainly come back with enough. 

I usually pay for my share of the coffee. I do not drink more than twice a year, and certainly not with strangers. Once on my birthday and once when something major life-changing event happens. Otherwise I do not drink. Period. There are very few people who can convince me for a drink.

I meet more men than woman because honestly, I do not choose that. Most women on tinder, do not swipe back on me :P Heck, their settings make it impossible for me to even see them. I work with an all-women’s team at one of the clients. Rest of the clients are mostly men, because I work with smaller businesses and usually I work only with the founder / promoter levels. 

Apart from that, the other social avenues usually have a larger ratio of men. My schoolmates are dispersed around the country and are mostly married and mothers, so not as easily available to interact as I would like. I do associate with women on the Sheroes apps and their whatsapp groups and through couchsurfing and in my various spiritual / religious congregations, but again the numbers are few. Not something I control, really.

Classification of people, is a subject best dealt in detail of its own. So, let’s address that in another post someday, I guess 😊

Till then, happy reading and traveling on your paths.

Much love,

Asmi     

© Asmi Uniqus 2018