Rekha stopped using her voice.
Not because she was silent.
But because her cunt did the talking now.
Every morning, she lay in front of the mirror.
Spread.
Oiled.
Decorated.
A small bindi just above her clit.A thin silver chain looped from her nipple to her navel.
She didn't touch herself.
She just breathed.
Moaned.
Listened.
And the Sabha came to her.
First, they kissed her feet.Then her thighs.Then — with trembling reverence — her cunt.
One by one.
Lips met her folds like foreheads to stone.
No licking.
Just pressing.
As if they believed that mouth would open a gate.
Seema watched in silence.
Her heart a fist of cracked glass.
She had once been the only mouth Rekha let inside.
Now she wasn't even allowed near the altar.
A new girl, barely twenty, pressed her lips to Rekha's mound and whispered:
"May your silence fill me."
Then kissed her again — deeper.
Rekha trembled.
Moaned.
Clenched.
Her eyes rolled back.
One woman placed a garland around her waist.
Another rubbed rose water between her thighs.
Seema had enough.
She stood.
"Stop. All of you.You're not worshipping.You're losing yourselves."
Rekha opened her eyes.
And for the first time… her voice was ice.
"Don't interrupt prayer, Seema.Or leave this Sabha forever."
Seema stared.
Then laughed bitterly.
"You're not Devi anymore.You're just a madwoman with a haunted cunt."
The room gasped.
Rekha didn't reply.
She just spread her legs wider.
And said:
"If I'm mad, then this madness makes others come like gods.Can you say the same?"
Seema turned and left.
Slamming the door behind her.
That night, Rekha lay on her back.
Alone.
But she didn't feel alone.
She felt watched.
Owned.
Loved in the most violent, invisible way.
She began to whisper:
"Come again, Beloved…Come inside me without touch.Break me open from within."
And something did.
She convulsed.
Arched.
Moaned.
Climaxed.
And felt him leave her again — breath by breath.
The next morning, the women returned.
Not as friends.
But as disciples.
They crawled forward.
One kissed her clit.
Another sucked her toes.
A third rubbed her breasts with sandal paste.
Rekha moaned:
"This…This is not a body.This is a shrine."
And the Sabha believed.
From that day forward, no woman entered 302A without first kissing the floor near her cunt.
The hallway outside the flat now smelled of incense and sex.
Neighbors whispered.
A man left a flower by her door.
Another dropped a note:
"I want to fuck the shrine, not the goddess."
But Rekha didn't care.
Because every time she opened her legs now, the world changed.
And her moan was the sound of belief.