Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Prakash holds his breath as he hits the end button. 

He is fucked. 

Nakul Bhai is here well before time and has caught him flat-footed. He looks instinctively at his watch. He might have five minutes before the Russian takes things into his own hands. 

Damn, he should have paid more attention to the time.


Prakash enters into a flurry of activity, trying to get the room in some semblance of order. He hustles the men other than Nawaz and Mahender out of the room. Paro has to go too. 

The three chawl men take one last hungry look at the incredible whore tied and suspended from the ceiling, her legs widely spread, both her nether holes easily accessible for penetration. 

They have been fucking her holes one by one and all together for more than two hours, mangling her boobs, using her body like a plaything, and she looks a little worn out. Her mouth is widely stretched over a ball gag and her head lolls to one side, saliva dripping down her chin and body. 

The chawl men last saw this whore the night of the glory hole as it came to be known, but not in those specific terms. 

“Take her down and clean her up. Nakul Bhai is here! I thought he wouldn’t be here for at least an hour. Quickly, quickly!” 

Mahender and Nawaz hop to it. It wouldn’t do for the merchandise to be shown in such poor light even though it was likely that Nakul Bhai too would be using her for the same purposes. 

Earlier, on the way to the chawl, Prakash had stopped the auto and told Swati to go buy him a pack of beedies. The driver had started to offer him his own bodies, but stopped when he realized what Prakash was doing.

He told Swati to take off her yoga pants in public in the middle of the day, and that too a couple of streets away from his house. Here there could be big differences from street to street. People tended to congregate along ethnic, religious, caste, and other lines, and what was true of one street was not necessarily true of the next one over. 

She hesitated, perhaps too long and ultimately it was Prakash’s steely look that decided her. Slowly, and not necessarily in a sexy way, she started taking off her tights. They clung to her crotch, her thighs, so she had to do a fair bit of wiggling in order to get the garment off. Prakash ogled her all the time, and the driver watched open-mouthed in the mirror, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. 

The crotch of the thin nylon pants had soaked through with her juices and appeared darker than the rest of the fabric. The excitement was making her breathe hard and the effort pulled her shirt further up where her full breasts strained. 

In the end, she gave up and accepted her situation. 

It helped though that Prakash shot her a venomous look and made raised a threatening hand. She didn’t mind the spanking and other corporal punishments he meted out, but she wasn’t so sure here out in public. 

But the situation was getting to her, there was no denying it. She was incredibly turned on and leaking from her cunt and her pussy juice was running down her thighs. Her nipples were hard as diamonds. All thoughts of abstaining from sex, staying away from Prakash and his perverted sex games had fled. 

Once the pants were off, she tried to pull her tee shirt down to cover her crotch. It was a futile effort. The tee shirt was loose and tented out with her large tits, the points of her nipples clearly visible to anyone who looked. The shirt only reached the level of her navel. There was no way it could stretch to cover her crotch. She gave up, her pussy bare for all to see, and her ass out there, proudly in the open.

Through the honking and beeping traffic, red with the embarrassment, she dodged the cars and motorcycles, and crossed the road to the shop, a small hole in the wall where the middle-aged man wearing a skull cap sold his wares. 

She hoped that at least at first glance people would think she was wearing skin-colored tights. She was almost clean shaven, but there was the thin strip of trimmed pubic hair in the front. 

That didn't happen. From the moment he laid eyes on her, the shopkeeper couldn’t take his eyes off her body. She had to repeat herself three times before he would look at her face. 

“Bhaiya, a pack of beedies please.”

Without taking his eyes off her naked lower body, he reached blindly behind him, pulled out a packet of beedies and handed it to her. 

She thanked him and turned to go, feeling his eyes on her naked ass. 

It was only when she had almost reached the road that he suddenly found his voice. “Paisa? Madamji, what about the money?”

She sighed. Her whole body deflated. She had rather hoped he would not ask, that her near-naked body might be distraction enough, but apparently it wasn’t enough of one. The problem, of course, being she had no money. No place to keep money either.

She pointed at the auto rickshaw to where Prakash sat watching and grinning. 

“It’s for him. Don’t you have a khata or something? Where you write down your regular customers’ accounts?”

“I don’t know him,” the man said. “Not a regular customer.”

Swati sighed again and turned back. 

All she had was her body to give. If she returned without the beedies, Prakash might do worse than he was already doing. There was only one thing she had she could bargain with. “I can give you a blow job for this," she said.

Without a word, he took her by the hand into the narrow lane between two buildings and pulled off her tee shirt before he pulled his pants down for the blowjob. She was in no position to protest but kept a careful eye on her only remaining garment that lay a few feet from her on the dusty, garbage-strewn ground.

The man had an average-sized cock but he rammed it into her throat without mercy. She gagged and choked, and that only added to his delight. He kept up a constant stream of obscenities as he fucked her mouth, one hand braced on the wall for support, the other mangling her tits.

When she thought he was going to come, he pulled out abruptly. He pulled her to her feet, turned her, and kicked her legs apart.

Swati sighed, knowing what was coming. 

She braced herself against the wall and waited for penetration. 

It wasn’t long in coming and when it came, it was very welcome. She’d been lubricating for a while and she needed a stiff cock to scratch that itch. 

She was wet enough that he was able to get all the way in with his first thrust. But that was the end of it. 

She saw a blur of motion from the corner of her eye. 

She turned to see the man slumped on the ground, stunned. Prakash towered over him, and now he drew back a foot and kicked the prostrate man in the ribs with his heavy work boot. The shopkeeper groaned but didn’t move much. 

“Son of a bitch,” Prakash said, “trying to play around with my maal!” 

He spat on the man and pulled her up by the elbow. 

Swati bent in half and succeeded in retrieving her shirt which she tried to put on, but Prakash would have none of it. He dragged her through the dark alley, completely naked, and out into the main road and bundled her into the auto.

By the time she was back in the auto, Swati was thoroughly wet and dying for a fuck. She clutched the crumpled shirt in one hand, and pressed herself into Prakash, rubbing her tits and pussy on his arm. He pushed her away as though in disgust. She begged, whimpered, and even tried to ask permission to fuck the auto driver.

"Please," she said, "give me some relief. You hand?" She grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs. 


The auto driver's eyes nearly popped out with this wanton display and he forgot to start the engine.

Prakash removed his hand from between her legs and yelled at the driver. He finally got the engine started and took off. 

Prakash stopped half a block from the house and had her walk stark naked the rest of the way. 

Swati was more comfortable with this since most of the people there, men and women, had seen her naked at one time or another. 

She even put some swagger into her walk, an extra sway in her hips. 

She’d been left unfulfilled from the shopkeeper’s aborted fuck session and hoped to entice someone, anyone, to come and take her like a whore in the middle of the road, in broad daylight. 

That was if Prakash would allow it. He was sadistic enough that he might not let her have her release.

But then Prakash stopped in front of his building, in the middle of the dusty footpath, and had her give him a blow job. 

She saw a few of the men rubbing their crotches, hoping for a turn with the high-class whore.

Her excitement was at its peak. Several more people came to see what was going on, and Swati got to work, sucking and linking Prakash’s erect member. 

He beamed at the crowd, enjoying his glorious position as the whoremaster of this luscious piece of ass, and the piece of ass enjoyed it equally. Both participants were almost delirious in their perverted desires.

Prakash turned her around so she was facing away from him, but then he had her bend her neck backward so her throat was in line with his cock. He slapped her boobs with both hands and pinched and pulled them as he rammed his dick into her compliant mouth. She was on her knees, her body curved backward, her tits and pussy sticking out, her throat full of his rampant cock. 

Then he’d taken her upstairs where Mahender, Nawaz, and a few other men were waiting impatiently. All the equipment was ready and Mahender had dressed up the walls with all kinds of sex-related equipment. The beds had been moved to a corner, stacked one on top of the other so there was a lot of empty space in the middle. 

Paro, naked and looking a little put out, was busy sucking one of the men in one corner. 

Prakash could see that this was no more than a diversion. 

They were really waiting for Swati, the star whore of the show.