The kitchen still smelled of cucumber and her own shame, but Priya's cunt was already weeping again before she reached the corridor. Papaji had dismissed her with a hard swat on her dripping backside, his gruff voice muttering that she should disappear before anyone woke. She had stumbled back to her bedroom, where Rohan snored like a sedated ox, and lay there in the dark with her thighs slick and her belly a furnace of unslaked hunger. His tongue had been a revelation, that gnarled old mouth licking her like a starving man, making her scream into her own palm while she rode his face. But it was not enough. It was never enough. The emptiness inside her pulsed with its own heartbeat, a hollow ache that demanded to be stuffed full.