Due to superstition Part 4

This is story and it is about the relationship between a girl and a Baba (Poojari, Baba)

Silence descended upon the room once again... but this time, it was not the same peaceful silence as before.

Pooja lay on the bed, her eyes closed, yet her mind was wide awake. A stirring had begun deep within her - a sensation she could neither fully comprehend nor suppress. The Ling kept brushing against her Choot (pussy) repeatedly. As her legs shifted, the member would press against her - and gradually, through this movement, it began to knock at the threshold of her anus (gaand). She found herself succumbing to a rising wave of lust - a desire to which she was willingly surrendering. She was, in fact, enjoying it all.

Baba’s words... his voice... his every utterance... everything kept echoing in her mind.

“This is merely a ritual...” Written by Maitri.

“It is a test of your faith...”

She tried to reason with herself, but the more she tried to make sense of it, the more entangled her thoughts became.

She felt as though she were slowly drifting in a direction from which there would be no easy return.

She turned onto her side. The faint light filtering onto the walls of the room now seemed strange to her - as if everything in the room were watching her... yet remaining silent.

A question kept rising within her, over and over again - “Am I truly doing the right thing...?”

But in that very instant, Baba’s face would appear before her eyes... his calm voice... his reassuring demeanor... and the question would slowly fade away. All her doubts began to seem trivial in the face of her surging desire.

Now, a new sensation had taken root within her - A nebulous bond, suspended somewhere between faith and doubt.

She could not discern whether all of this was merely a ritualistic procedure... or something else entirely.

The Ling slowly began its work; it was now caressing Pooja’s anus (Gaand). Pooja found the sensation deeply pleasurable. She realized that her Gaand was now opening up, ready to receive and engulf the Ling.

Pooja untied the drawstring of her salwar and drew the Ling out; she bowed to it in reverence, murmuring inwardly, "Hail to the Lingam." Catching sight of Baba's photograph upon it, she smiled and began to speak to herself in her heart: "What is this, Babaji? What were you doing at my back door? Shall I lend you a hand?"

Pooja guided the Ling between her buttocks and began pressing it against her anus (Gaand); she was finding it pleasurable.

However, out of fear, she moved the Ling away from her Gaand and positioned it between her legs instead. She rubbed the Ling lightly against her Choot (pussy).

Then, placing the Ling against her forehead, she gazed at Baba's photograph and spoke to him in her heart: "Babaji... What is it that you desire? It is not right to engage in such acts with a widow."

As she continued to rub the Ling against her Choot (pussy), her eyelids slowly began to grow heavy...
Yet, even as she drifted into the embrace of sleep, a faint sense of apprehension lingered in her mind -

She then tied the Ling back into its original place. And, with her Choot (pussy) still throbbing with heat, she fell asleep. Presented by Maitri.

Perhaps she was slowly becoming ensnared in a trap - one of which she had, as yet, absolutely no inkling...

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While such was Pooja’s plight here, let us now turn to see what state Baba was in over there.

Baba, too, lay in his room, his mind and body consumed by thoughts of how to bring Pooja under his sway and make her his own. He realized that Pooja was not the kind of girl who would fall into his lap easily. To win her over, he would have to proceed with patience and absolute vigilance.

"I must not repeat the mistakes of my past..."

And with that thought, he drifted back into his past memories...

"Baba’s Story - In His Own Words": This is not a tale of faith or devotion; rather, it is the unmasking of a hypocritical figure who exploited the faith and vulnerabilities of innocent people to fulfill his own selfish desires. This story is an endeavor to bring to light a truth that often lies hidden behind the veil of crowds, blind faith, and unquestioning devotion.

In the beginning, Baba presented himself as a selfless servant. He would listen to people's troubles, offer them solace, and claim to help them without accepting a single penny. This was his greatest ploy - winning the people's trust. Gradually, his fabricated persona grew so formidable that people began flocking to him from far and wide. Everyone came to regard him as a savior, while the reality was something else entirely.

The crowds continued to swell; yet, this multitude was not a testament to his service, but rather the consequence of his deceit. The people's faith had become nothing more than a tool for him. When the crowds grew too immense - and the risk of his true nature being exposed began to rise - he adopted a new strategy: he started visiting patients in their own homes. On the surface, this move appeared to be an act of service; in reality, however, it was a calculated maneuver to take his game to a deeper level - one where he could carry out his nefarious deeds without any witnesses.

This prologue serves as a warning against the blind faith that, without asking any questions, elevates mere mortals to the status of God. In the chapters that follow, all of Baba’s misdeeds will be laid bare, as the layers of his deceit, treachery, and self-interest are peeled back, one by one. This is not merely the story of a single individual, but a mirror reflecting that facet of society where truth often lies buried beneath the weight of blind faith.

One morning, a 40-year-old man came to me in a frantic state and said, “Baba, something has happened to my daughter. Please come and take a look; I have heard a great deal about you.”
I asked, “How old is she?”

“She has just turned eighteen. For the past several days, she has been behaving like a madwoman.”

I got into his car and accompanied him to his home. The moment I laid eyes on the girl in her room, my gaze was arrested. She possessed a complexion as fair as milk, deep black eyes, a blossoming figure, and a petite stature of just 4 feet 9 inches.

I closed my eyes, sat in meditation for a while, and then, opening my eyes, I spoke in a grave tone: “It is impossible for this girl to be cured.” Written by Maitri.

The girl’s parents burst into tears. The mother clutched my feet and pleaded, “Please don’t say that, Baba! You are our last hope. What exactly has happened to her?”

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I replied in a cold, detached voice, “She is under the shadow of a powerful malevolent spirit. It will not leave until it has claimed her life.”

Upon hearing this, the mother broke down and wept inconsolably. “Surely there must be a remedy, Baba! You have cured so many people; please cure her as well.”

I said, “I can cure her… but…”

“But what, Baba?” the mother asked impatiently. “Just name your price - however much money is required - and I will pay it.”

“I do not want money,” I stated clearly.

Weeping, the mother asked, “Then tell me, what must be done?”

“It is a very arduous task. I will have to perform a special ritual.”

I ordered some supplies.

The girl's parents agreed immediately and procured all the necessary items for the vidhi.

I set up the ceremonial platform and took my seat. The girl’s mother - Geeta - along with the girl and her father, sat down facing me.

The worship began. After a while, I spoke: “Your daughter can be completely cured.”
A look of joy spread across the parents' faces.

“But…” I said, pausing deliberately.

Geeta asked immediately, “But what, Baba?”

“Through my spiritual powers, I shall invoke my Guru to descend upon me. Only He can heal her. However, whatever commands He issues must be obeyed without question. If any interruption occurs midway, or if you fail to heed His words, then nothing can be done. Tell me if you are ready.”

Both nodded instantly. “We are ready, Baba. Please begin the worship (Vidhi).”

I commenced my work. By now, I felt no fear whatsoever. Maitri's Creation.

A short while later, speaking in a deep, authoritative voice - much like that of a Guru - I said, “Child!”

Geeta replied in a trembling voice, “Yes, Baba…”

“Take this sacred thread (Kalava) and give it to your husband. Then, taking this thread, he must go to the banyan tree just outside the village at exactly midnight - 12:00 AM - and tie it there while chanting ‘Om Namo ******i’ 121 times.”

The girl’s father took the thread and departed immediately.

I closed my eyes once again. After a brief silence, I spoke: “Child, close all the windows and doors of this room. Both of you must remove any items made of rubber or metal that you are wearing.”

Geeta asked, “Right here, or should we go inside?”

“Go inside to do it. And from this moment on, you must wear only white garments. Bring a white ‘dhoti’ for me as well.”

Geeta did exactly as she was told.

She was thirty-four years old, yet her physique was perfectly voluptuous and alluring. She handed me the ‘dhoti’ and went inside to change her clothes. By the time she and her daughter emerged, I, too, had removed all my garments and was clad solely in a white *dhoti*. Both mother and daughter were clad solely in sarees. The moment they approached me, my Lund (cock)) went rock hard. Only one thought raced through my mind - to fuck them both right then and there. But I exercised patience.

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TBC

Stay Tuned......................

Maitri is awaiting your comments on this story.........................