cucking male feminist (R-18)

Madhavi, still processing the sudden turn of events, found herself strangely exhilarated. "I may not know you, Ryota, but I must admit, discovering you're a man... it has its own thrilling allure." Her voice hinted at newfound curiosities and possibilities.

Madhavi's eyes sparkled, her previous anger and passion now redirected in a completely different way. "You know, Ryota, now that I see you for who you truly are, I feel like I could marry someone like you."

Ryota raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the sudden proposition, "Really? Just like that?"

She nodded, a genuine smile on her lips, "Absolutely. There's something about the way you are - bold, deceptive, yet strangely genuine. I've always craved a partner who's unpredictable and challenges the norms. Plus, your masculinity brings its own set of intriguing dimensions."

Shyam, who had been silent for a while, finally erupted, "What do you mean, marry him? Madhavi, he deceived you! He played with your emotions and made a complete fool out of me!"

Madhavi shot him a withering glance, "Oh, Shyam, don't pretend this is about me. You're just upset because Ryota managed to expose your hollow ideologies. In the brief time I've spent with him, he's shown more understanding and sensitivity than you ever have"

Ryota approached Shyam with a playful smirk. "For introducing me to such a wonderful pativratha, I think I should give you a taste of real pleasure."

Shyam's face contorted with a mix of disgust and disbelief, "You can't be serious! I don't need anything from someone like you."

Madhavi, clearly eager to move forward with Ryota, turned sharply towards her husband, "Oh, Shyam, just sit back and watch, why don't you? Maybe you can learn a thing or two. Because men aren't a brainless buffon like you. No woman likes a self-sacrificing man like you for stupid reasons"

She looked Shyam directly in the eyes, a fierce determination evident in her gaze, "You've paraded around with your misandrist views, but the truth is, you're even worse than what you believe women to be. So stay back and let me enjoy Ryota. Let me experience the depths of pleasure he can provide."

Ryota, taking advantage of the moment, moved closer to Madhavi, their intentions clear. Shyam, while protesting, was left to witness a scenario he could never have imagined.

Ryota, with a confident stride, positioned himself between Madhavi's legs, teasing her gently before diving in to provide her with intense pleasure. She gasped and arched her back, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as waves of euphoria coursed through her body. "This... this is something else entirely," she moaned.

Shyam, witnessing this intimate scene, felt his world shatter around him. Every touch, every gasp from Madhavi was like a dagger piercing his heart. Unable to bear the torment of seeing his wife in such a state with another man, he was consumed by despair and felt an overwhelming urge to end his own life.

The Illusion Devil, appearing beside Shyam with a smirk, blocked his attempt. "Oh, Shyam," he said mockingly, "Thinking of taking the easy way out after your grand views have been so clearly challenged?"

Ryota, pausing momentarily from his attentions towards Madhavi, added with a snicker, "Thought being the 'ideal male feminist' would get you undying love and adoration from women? Turns out, it's not about what you say, but what you truly believe and do."

Madhavi, her breath still ragged from the pleasure, chimed in with a sardonic laugh, "Did you really think all your preaching would make me or any woman blindly worship you? All you've been is a talking puppet, never understanding the true essence of feminism or love."

Shyam's eyes widened in realization. All these years, he had mistaken his radical views as genuine feminism, never understanding the core principle of equality and respect.

With a smug grin, Ryota, without missing a beat, thrust forward, burying himself inside Madhavi. Her eyes widened in surprise, a moan escaping her lips. The sensation was entirely different, and she found herself overcome with pleasure.

The Illusion Devil, always observant, turned his gaze to Shyam, noticing a clear bulge forming in his pants. "Oh, Shyam," he teased, "Seems like you're quite fascinated by Ryota's performance, aren't you? Maybe it's not Madhavi that's catching your eye, but Ryota himself?"

Ryota, between thrusts, added with a chuckle, "Maybe you should explore some yaoi material, Shyam. Though I'd like to clarify, I've no interest in getting involved with men that way. But hey, whatever floats your boat."

Madhavi, through her gasps, managed to mock, "Shyam, maybe you've found your true calling. A different taste, perhaps?"

Shyam's face turned crimson, a mix of embarrassment, arousal, and self-loathing. He was trapped in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to look away yet mortified by his own reactions.

The Illusion Devil, clearly entertained by the situation, remarked, "Ryota, you're truly in your element here. Almost... majestic." The sarcasm dripping from his voice was evident.

Ryota's movements became more deliberate and intense, each thrust a testament to his growing passion and desire. He skillfully maneuvered within her, the heat and tightness of Madhavi enveloping him. She gripped him, her inner muscles squeezing in rhythm with his movements, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

As he continued, he could feel a slight barrier resisting him. The realization dawned upon him that he was about to breach her hymen, an intimate and significant moment for many women. Ryota took a moment to lock eyes with Madhavi, seeking silent permission. She nodded, biting her lip in anticipation.

With a gentle but firm thrust, he pushed past the barrier, eliciting a sharp gasp from Madhavi. The pain was fleeting, replaced swiftly by waves of pleasure that intensified with each movement Ryota made.

Madhavi's legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, urging him on. Her fingers dug into his back, leaving red marks in their wake. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed was overwhelming. Every touch, every thrust was igniting flames of desire within her.

Ryota, sensing her approaching climax, adjusted his angle to hit that sweet spot inside her, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through Madhavi's body. Their rhythm synchronized perfectly, building to a crescendo of intense pleasure.

With one final thrust, Ryota buried himself deep inside her, releasing himself, marking her in the most intimate way possible. The sensation of him pulsating within her pushed Madhavi over the edge, her body convulsing in ecstasy.

They both lay there, spent and breathless, their bodies glistening with sweat, entangled in an intimate embrace. The connection between them was palpable, their shared experience forging an unspoken bond.

Shyam, having witnessed the entire act, was a mix of conflicting emotions - envy, arousal, and self-deprecation. The stark contrast between his perceived ideologies and the raw, passionate display before him was a jarring realization.

The room was thick with tension

Madhavi, her eyes burning with an intensity that Ryota had never seen before, pulled him close. Her fingers traced the contours of his face, her touch light but possessive.

"Ryota," she began, her voice dripping with a blend of love and obsession, "I've never felt like this with anyone. The emotions you've awakened within me, the sensations, the sheer intensity of it all... I've never known it. Even with Shyam," she sneered disdainfully at her husband, "it was never like this."

She continued, her voice taking on a desperate tone, "Forgive me for being bound to another man when my heart, my body, and my soul yearn for you. You have to understand, I had reasons for marrying him." Her face darkened as she recalled painful memories. "Reasons that are rooted in the past, a past filled with pain and obligations."

Ryota, his brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "Madhavi, if you were bound to Shyam by marriage, why were you still a virgin?"

In West Bengal, 1969, the environment was charged with social reform and change. Among the most influential figures was Shyam Singha Roy. His reputation was that of a progressive thinker, but beneath his lofty ideologies lay darker, more twisted beliefs.

Shyam, a writer with communist leanings, was part of a conservative family that disapproved of his radical methods. It was during these tumultuous times he stumbled upon Madhavi, a devadasi, during her dance performances in the temple during Navaratri. Even though he was an avowed atheist, something about Madhavi drew him to the temple night after night.

One evening, in a whirlwind of emotion, Shyam convinced Madhavi to leave the confines of the temple. They began a passionate affair. But Madhavi's life was not her own. The temple's high priest, Mahant, a man with a voracious sexual appetite, especially for devadasis, sought to assert his dominance over her. One fateful night, after a particularly vile act against Madhavi, Shyam confronted Mahant in the temple, during Navaratri. The confrontation escalated into violence, ending with Shyam's act of retribution against the man who had violated his beloved.

Moving to Calcutta, Shyam's writing career took off, but his controversies only grew

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In West Bengal, 1969, Shyam Singha Roy was an influential social reformer and revolutionary writer with staunch communist ideologies, hailing from a conservative family. His family, while proud of his lineage, strongly disagreed with his unconventional methods. As they continued to clash, Shyam was determined to distance himself from his family ties. One night, as he was contemplating his next move, his path crossed with Madhavi, a devadasi from Bangladesh. Although Madhavi danced in the temple during the Navaratri festival, Shyam, being an atheist, only found himself visiting the temple nightly to catch a glimpse of her.

After several nightly rendezvous, they quickly became inseparable. Shyam and Madhavi's love story flourished, and he affectionately named her Rosie. Deciding to break free from societal constraints, they planned to elope. However, the night they intended to leave, tragedy struck. The temple's high priest, Mahant, chose a young devadasi for himself. Horrified and repulsed by this, Rosie confronted him, leading to her brutal assault at his hands. The sight of his beloved disrespected sent Shyam into a fit of rage. He retaliated by castrating Mahant and ending his life in the temple's ceremonial fire.

Relocating to Calcutta and aiming for a fresh start, Shyam found himself working in a printing press. With the city's pulse at his fingertips, he rapidly climbed the ranks to become a prominent, albeit controversial, writer. Under Rosie's influence, he also started a trust to assist and rehabilitate former devadasis.

But the past was not done with them. A trip back to his village under the pretext of a family emergency ended in tragedy. Shyam was brutally murdered by his own kin, all for the 'honor' of their family name. They disapproved of him marrying Rosie, someone from a different caste and background.

Fast forward to the present, with Madhavi, previously known as Rosie, recounting her past with Shyam to Ryota. The depth of their love and the gravity of the sacrifices made by Shyam for her resonated deeply with Ryota. As a way of offering comfort, and also driven by his own burgeoning feelings for her, Ryota began to offer physical comfort, which led to him caressing and eventually sucking her breasts. It was a mix of consolation, an act to connect deeply, and also a reflection of the growing intimate relationship between them.

Shyam, watching the passionate display before him, finally exploded, "Why? Why did you take my wife and use her in this manner?"

Ryota, pausing momentarily from his intimate engagement with Madhavi, shot a steely gaze towards Shyam. "Your wife's undying devotion, her pativratha nature, drew me to her. But know this, I might have felt pity for you, had you not hidden behind your so-called feminist facade, while bringing harm to innocent men."

Shyam, still recovering from the shock, listened as Ryota recounted fifteen scenarios that revealed the support he received, not just from strangers, but from those closest to Shyam. Ryota finished, his tone dripping with contempt, "Your own deeds drove everyone away, Shyam. The whole village, even your own flesh and blood, wanted this union. They saw through your pretense and chose to support genuine love and care."

The Barber's Secret Assistance: The village barber had discreetly passed on messages between Ryota and Madhavi, helping them coordinate secret meetings without raising suspicions.

Whispers at the Marketplace: Women at the market often slipped notes to Madhavi, giving her details about safe meeting spots recommended by Ryota.

The Old School Teacher: Mr. Banerjee, who once taught both Shyam and Ryota, provided Ryota with old letters and notes that helped him better understand Madhavi's situation.

The Vegetable Vendor's Gift: A seemingly innocent gift of exotic fruits to Madhavi actually concealed a small communication device, allowing her to communicate with Ryota discreetly.

Library Conspiracies: The local librarian often reserved books under Shyam's name, which were actually meant for Ryota, offering information and codes.

Night Watchman's Lantern Signals: The night watchman in Shyam's neighborhood would change the pattern of his lantern swings to indicate when the coast was clear for Ryota.

The Baker's Coded Pastries: Every time Madhavi bought pastries, the patterns on them were coded messages from Ryota.

The Tailor's Threads: Whenever Madhavi got her clothes stitched, the tailor would sew in messages or tools that Ryota felt she might need.

The Priest's Blessings: The priest at the local temple would often hand Madhavi talismans, which, upon closer inspection, contained miniaturized letters from Ryota.

The Milkman's Double Deliveries: The milkman would leave two bottles; the second contained not milk, but messages submerged inside for Madhavi.

Secret Messages in Music: The town's musician, during public performances, played certain tunes to relay messages from Ryota to Madhavi.

Farmers' Hidden Stashes: In the rice fields, farmers often left hidden packages from Ryota for Madhavi to discover.

The Cobbler's Sole Messages: Every time Shyam or Madhavi got their shoes mended, a message was hidden within the soles by Ryota.

The Fisherman's Catch: At times, the fish sold to Madhavi had hollowed compartments containing items or letters from Ryota.

Brother's Betrayal: The most damning of all was Shyam's own brother, who, disapproving of Shyam's methods, facilitated many of these covert operations, ensuring Ryota and Madhavi's bond grew stronger.

Ryota, now in a post-coital state of relaxation and satisfaction, looked at Shyam with a gentler expression than before. "Shyam," he began, voice dripping with a mix of compassion and mockery, "I want you to know that I forgive you. It's clear you've suffered enough, and honestly, I've found happiness, genuine happiness, in a way I never expected."

Seeing the bewildered look on Shyam's face, Ryota continued with a playful twinkle in his eye, "I've heard that our brothers are planning to introduce you to a few wonderful gay men. Perhaps you could explore a new avenue of love? A bit of yaoi in your life?" He suggested cheekily.

Madhavi, flushed and still reeling from the pleasure of their union, leaned onto Ryota's shoulder. Ryota continued, a sly grin forming on his lips, "Now, considering your... inclinations, we've been thinking. Our brothers are bringing over some friends – gay men. Perhaps it's time for you to experience a new kind of bond, a yaoi relationship if you will."

Madhavi, trying to suppress her giggles, remarked, "At least that way, you might find someone who can tolerate your ideologies and maybe even bring some happiness into your life." She nudged Ryota playfully, "After all, love is love, isn't it?"

Madhavi, a dreamy look in her eyes, started to relive her recent experience with Ryota, "You have no idea, Shyam, how he made me feel. The way he touched every part of me, moved inside me... it was unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's as if he knew exactly what I needed, exactly where to touch, and how. Every stroke, every caress was just... perfect."

Ryota raised an eyebrow at Shyam, "Speaking of which, why didn't you ever lay a hand on Madhavi? She's your wife after all."

Shyam, his face reflecting guilt and confusion, replied, "Consent. That's all it boiled down to. Madhavi never really gave me the green light. Plus, I always believed in preserving her 'innocence', thinking it was for the best. I thought it was noble of me to resist and wait for a sign."

Madhavi's face hardened, her voice firm yet dripping with hurt. "It wasn't just about 'waiting for a sign', Shyam. Every time you looked at me, every time you spoke about 'preserving my innocence', you made me feel less of a woman and more of a trophy. A symbol of purity for you to parade around. My desires, my needs were always secondary to your twisted ideology. My body was just a canvass for your misguided beliefs, never a living, breathing entity with its own wants."

She took a deep breath, tears forming but never falling, "It wasn't that I didn't want intimacy, Shyam. It was that I couldn't trust the intentions behind your touch. Would you be touching Madhavi, the woman? Or the symbol of chastity you made me out to be?"

Ryota, glancing at Shyam, stated sincerely, "For all your missteps, Shyam, I have to thank you. Because of your blindness, you've given me the chance to be with a virgin pativratha. And I assure you, I see her — truly see her — for who she is, not just what she represents.

Ryota, his voice carrying a hint of irony, added, "Well, she wasn't truly a pativratha after all, was she?"

Before anyone could react to Ryota's words, Madhavi's eyes filled with determination and despair, and she suddenly dashed toward the large fireplace, her intent clear. But before the scene could escalate further, the room's atmosphere shifted dramatically.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a flustered Kobeni, her cheeks pink, holding a poster. She looked between the trio, clearly feeling the tense atmosphere, but in her usual, awkward manner she piped up, "Umm... hi? Have any of you seen my baby brother? He looks like this," she pointed to the poster, her voice quivering, making the situation oddly comedic in its abruptness.