Vagina Insanity Read online

  Vagina Insanity

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

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  Novel: Vagina Insanity

  Author: Niranjan Jha

  Publisher: Cromosys Publication

  ISBN: 9781476137131

  Price: $5.00

  Date: January 2012

  Prologue

  The day was blessed with no problem to start kissing her. As her quivering lips touched mine, with the sizzling sensation piercing in hearts, I inserted my tongue into her mouth. Within a minute, the kisses tuned into wild hallucinating both of us to have cockpit crunch. She drew me a little more closely and wetting around the cheeks began to suck my lips. It was giving me a terrific feel encouraging me to associate with her more and more. I put my lips on her throat and then down below the cleavage. She was getting overwhelmed with joy. I wanted to go a little more down, so I put her top off and started kissing. A mesmerizing and exhilarating touch of her breasts was surpassing all the bliss I had ever felt in my life.

  The domino effect was dominating my novice mind giving un-alcoholic delirium tremens when I saw her bosom bumping out of the brassiere. With the licit, legitimate and longing desire, I put my hand to feel the soothing touch of the flesh. The sleek, silken and smoothly enigmatic shape inside her bra spurred my phenomena. I supported her with my hand to lie down, and looking at her appealing figure I slipped down to her bottom. My mirage-burnt heart desired more and more, and so, I was placing kisses at every inch of her body. And finally, there came a moment of pause when I reached her G spot. My hand, as it reached down her floss, it felt a soft touch of her labia majora while creeping through her pubic symphysis. From the back, I was still able to see her butt crack intoxicating me to have action gagnée. Her entire physic crammed up with impulses was enticing me to go more ferocious with her. I was at the pre-penetrating feel of ecstasy and orgasm viewing her dazzling beauty with rampant drive of sex within.

  Seeing no instinct of objection on her face, I unbuttoned her jeans, and within seconds, she was lying in carpet in her innerwear. From toe to forehead, she was so gorgeous that I could not leave any part of her body un-kissed, un-licked or un-sucked. In no time, the remaining two pieces of her clothes were also removed. She was there in her full nudity and I was seeing her complete beautifulness. My kisses on her sensitive spot were still rolling!

  I pressed her against the wall so that she could bear the pressure of my body. With my tongue getting closer to her soaking vagina, and finger reaching over the sensitive clit, I had a bite on her buttock. Responding back to my raunchiness, she moved her hands to grip my shoulders as both of her legs were wrapped around my chest, encouraging me to go deep in oral stimulation. I knelt over placing my knees on the either side of her legs, and then, bent down and inserted my entire oral longevity into her pudendum. She whispered, ‘So much of insanity!’ And I tickled her saying, ‘Yes, vagina insanity!’

  Preface

  If you like to read fiction, then this is the time to change your like. The world is full of horrible truths, and this novel is one of them. It’s a worldwide sensationalizing and turmoil-creating smash hit thriller based on terribly gruesome crime that happened in the author’s life. The most torturous and frightening to humanity! Madness-causing unacceptable burden of destiny! A rape of masculinity by feminine power!

  This novel is a first time venture in writing history that reveals the heart throbbing incidents the author got victimized of. Transgressing all limits, it makes you aware of some criminal activities that took place at some corner of the world and that were disgraceful in all sense. This book discloses the story of the illegitimate marriages of his life and the less-legitimate child he fathered. It narrates his working experience with call centers where he used to get trained to cheat American customers, and it also tells how and why 9/11 World Trade Center attack was staged by Americans themselves and the same activity was copied while executing Mumbai terror attack of 26/11 which was orchestrated by Indian politicians Modi and Thackeray. We dare you to read – you will have blast!

  He was willful to leading a sane life but after being tricked by time he got insane!

  The author is the founder of 'Cromosys' – a company excelling in the fields of education, technology and career management. He is an international level English, French and Spanish language trainer working for a period of thirteen years in several cities of India and the USA. The author is not only down-to-earth but down-to-grave in observing lives from Pandora of monkeys to the sanctuary of monks. He has studied all the three Holy Scriptures that includes the Geeta, the Bible and the Quran. This book is adapted for a movie in India.

  By the same author

  Novel – Lawbreaker Civilians

  Novel – Asian Havoc

  Cromosys Publication

  www.cromosys.in

  www.facebook.com/cromosys

  Contact no. +91-9561450045

  Email id: [email protected]

  Facebook link: facebook.com/niranjanjha1

  Caution: All the writing works that include all the educational, non-educational books, novels, and articles of the writer Niranjan Jha, are the published content of his registered magazine FACE OFF - Inventing Truth, which carries registration no. MAHENG12112/13/1/2009-TC and the endorsement no. 3244 28/5/2009 with the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Govt. of India. Any plagiarism in this regard will attract strict legal action. Any further publication of any of these books requires his written permission.

  Chapter One

  “The tragedy in life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live.” –Norman Cousins

  It was Saturday morning eleven a.m. of March 1998. I was sitting in a car for the first time in my life of twenty years. The car was speeding hundred kilometers per hour on national highway 31 that links New Delhi to Assam (India). I was as quiet as dead – not supposed to move my body for an inch also – just breathing – and only that much I knew. On the three sides of me, there were three men sitting, they were criminals…yes, the criminals who had kidnapped me that morning. All of them were carrying country guns by default as they were the top-notch criminals of my village Shirnia, which is in Khagaria district of Bihar.

  The car continued running for hours without letting me acknowledge the time that was passing. A great fear was creeping into my heart sweeping everything away. Feeling pale and castrated, plunged into a quake, I was looking at the three fever-pitch excited cynicists as helplessly as a hostage, controlling his code-brown looks at the terrorists. Feeling inner soul slashed and left to bleed, no healing in vicinity, no solace, no shoulder to weep on, just with stoned eyes I was searching for a flicker of light in the deep dungeon of unfathomable depths of life. Dry mouth, quivering lips, shivering body with a shroud of humiliation, insult, disrespect and disregard, I was subjected to be a blotch on the elite society. Almost ten minutes had passed and a world of more than ten kilometers was
left behind. The car was still running, but then, I could see raindrops falling from the blue heaven. And in no time, it started raining heavily. The more the car was speeding ahead, the more the rain was trying to obstruct the wheels. Nothing was visible on the road; still the driver was not compromising with the accelerator. That was what he was paid for. I hadn’t seen that kind of heavy rainfall before. I thought that was a divine intervention to stop the vehicle and let me go free. Alas…no way!

  I wished the car to collide with another vehicle and turn out to be a big accident but that also didn’t happen. The driver, febrile but flabbergasted, working as a henchman of the three, quite experienced in handling this felony, being a friend of my brother also did not find good to do anything apart from his job. They stopped the car at a far-off roadway-hotel where no customer was visible. Only we five people entered. One of the kidnappers, who was the father of a student of the school I taught, ordered me some sweets. Within a minute the sweet was served.

  ‘Teacher, eat sweet,’ he said.

  The second, turning his head towards me opened his mouth.

  ‘We won’t kill you provided you cooperate with us.’

  ‘Cooperate for what?’ I wanted to ask but couldn’t dare to. Hearing his words, I felt like I was electrocuted and thrown to have a terrifying freefall. All my hopes had already been withered. The life was slipping away from my hand like the sand of desert. The tears trickling down my eyes, getting dried up on my cheeks, mixing with sweat, were making me feel how cruel the world was.

  ‘O hell! Take me in your arms; the world is more hellish than you,’ I thought for a moment. Losing the equilibrium, my mind had invited the perplexity hammering my soul asking me a question again and again.

  ‘Why the fuck they have kidnapped me?’

  The third kidnapper who had not opened his mouth yet, an alpha dog and instigator, placed his hand on the country-gun hidden in his loincloth to make me feel the presence of the weapon, and then he looked into my eyes with piercing rays.

  ‘We have kidnapped you to get you married,’ said he in just a second.

  And then they began to snigger savagely as if they were the barbarians of primitive era. The owner of the hotel also heard that, but he gave me an ugly smile, perhaps trying to say it wasn’t new to the people of Bihar. And why would that be also? Honesty has no value amidst crime. In those years, Bihar was being governed by bastards. Even today, rapes, murders, and carnages are common to the people in the state. The situation hasn’t got better yet.

  Seeing sweets in the plate, I was feeling nausea coming in waves. My mind was reeling in such a devastating speed as if I was to be circumscribed to identity crisis. Holding the time blameworthy, I did everything they ordered. If I wouldn’t, they had slit my throat in a friction of second or puffed me off firing a bullet in my sensitive hole. I ate a half piece of the sweet. They took me back into the car and the driver was signaled to gear up the move. The shadows larger than life looming over me, the soul being squeezed and the thoughts being shredded, I was into the dark streets of the world getting doomed to non-existence.

  After an hour I was brought into an unseen village which I had only heard the name of. It was Marwa, a village in Bhagalpur district of Bihar which was thirty kilometers from my village. The moment the car stopped, I noticed a flash mob emerging from all around to see me as if they were resurrecting from the Dark Age. The dissuader kidnappers were smart enough to entertain the crowd. Amid absurd brouhaha, I was taken inside a dark hut and locked in. Their blasphemous cult degrading their own morality was perverting my mind to curse, hate, and abhor God and His creation. Following insular and nonage rituals with associated legislation of other criminals they started a ceremony which they called a marriage ceremony. And the time was nearing that I was to be brought to the home-made altar, an altar where God was to be worshiped on the ground of humanity being killed.

  Being locked inside I was trying to recollect how I came in the trap of them this morning. I wished that hadn’t happened. I wished I could revert the time!

  “To live is to solve problems, and to solve problems is to grow intellectually.” –Tom Wujec

  Chapter Two

  “The life, which is born in grave, is bound to get complicated, when it starts mounting to the sky.”

  I remembered how all that happened in the morning. As I had woke up to go to school for teaching, I felt a little bit of pain in body because of regular six days working schedule. It was a small private school in my village where I taught. Though I wanted to go but changed my mind and decided to take rest. Anyway, Saturdays were generally considered casual days for teaching. My mother, who used to care for me a lot, started preparing breakfast. Within half an hour she brought me the plate and I was about to start eating. Suddenly I heard a knock at the door. An unexpected knock!

  ‘Did you not go to school today?’

  The man standing at the open door asked. He was a little polite with his tone than expected. I knew him very well. He was the father of one of the students of the school, a villager of mine who is still alive, a top-liner desperado named – Vinay Mishra. He was a professional killer who had shot down a few men, beaten up hundreds, and dishonored many families. The man carried a country-gun all the time. He had been arrested at so many occasions that he used to treat jails as the house of his second wife. Anyway, these days, not only Bihar but most of the states of India are witnessing the nudity of crime, and the impotency and shamelessness of the Government have made the criminals avowed enemies of humanity. The aggrandizers, bail bandits, anarchists, and arrivistes have brought India to the apocalypse which is just one step behind annihilation. The banana-republic India, begetting avaricious assassins and unreasonable abolitionist, has become the asylum of honest citizens. The corrupt politicians enshrine criminals and let them go astray even if they commit gave-crimes. You can fathom but you would fail to do anything, because their profound mitigating behavior with the society protects them a lot. When any die-hard become the victim of their crime, they imply their firestorm do-or-die policy. They not only speak out against perceived injustice; instead, they express a profoundly distorted view of their perverse and hateful ideologies. Some weak people scratch and claw their way to get justice from the law-houses, but they are ultimately defeated. That legacy of defeat is passed on to future generations – to those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in their prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Their memories of humiliation and doubt and fear do not go away.

  Being prejudiced to Vinay’s myopic but bloody mind, I thought of giving him a mealy-mouth answer. Thinking that he must have had an evil idea, I did not want to speak to him. I never liked mingling with the outlaw villagers, but there was no other place to live. Being born in Bihar is similar to born in Taliban. In the age of twenty years, I had seen five murders, three rapes, and many dacoities through my own eyes.

  Those who are suffering from oppression in the state, their anger may not get expressed in public, but it does find voice in massacre taking place in the state. We Indians are leading a shameful life amid the legalized corruption and prevailing crime. At times, this anger is exploited by politicians, to win votes, or to make up for a politician's own failing. Some of them steal the limelight as a political heavyweight and become the friends of corporate honchos and movie-stars in a quick span of time. Just a few of them fall from grace in a blue moon and sent to the jail on charges of corruption. Despite being late entrants, some criminals secure a veto power in the party and become pointsmen to the supremo.

  Since childhood, seeing his hyper-euphoric behavior, I sensed Vinay’s tone conspiratorial today. But considering that raising the doubt is of no use, I replied to him in the shortest sentence I could frame.

  ‘I am not keeping well today.’

  I was expecting him to go away but he pushed the door open and came in. Though ever since I had become a teacher, most of the villagers used t
o give respect to me, and Vinay’s behavior was also changed for me, but I was still getting a little nervous that time because his presence was always terrifying. Hearing my words, he brought smile on his face, but that was clearly showing his deceptive and cunning motives hidden behind. I couldn’t understand anything beyond that. Till that day, I had never been the victim of any ill-will, deception or injustice, so I hadn’t got the sixth sense to smell any rat around.

  The way he came in, without asking or waiting for the permission that showed how ill-mannered he still was. After getting in, he started talking to my mother showing cold sympathy and concern to the family. He appeared to be descending from his true nature replacing his boss-over attitude with cajolery. Ten minutes passed in the conversation which I did not intend to hear. After that, he said that he wanted to take me to a neighboring village to talk to some parents for tuition. The name of a parent he mentioned was also a criminal – a criminal bigger than him.

  In most of the villages of the state, you will find about forty percent people involved in gruesome crime, thirty percent living life in extreme poverty, fifteen percent getting mad while entering adulthood and remaining fifteen percent people are only living life with proper food, education and manner.