Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[creamydelight]

I came at the loud farting noise 

[Manikandarajesh]

She must forget about husband, children and society and live a life of her wish.

[Gitaranjan]

Nicely written

[S Darko]

Thank you!

[fuckandforget]

Please continue

[S Darko]

Ramesh is shocked. 

This was not supposed to happen. 

How did Prakash get into the building? There was a reason why he thought it was safe—the security system. He knew Prakash didn’t have access, and yet here he was.


When Prakash walks into the room, yelling and screaming, he sees Swati stiffen at the sudden intrusion, and like some kind of unconscious reflex, he jams his finger on the screen. 

He must’ve raised the vibrations on the device to the max because Swati madam, instead of stopping her act, goes into a frenzy of what must surely be a world-class orgasm.

He watches as Swati madam convulses like an epileptic, and finally falls to the floor after finally having pulled the device from her pussy. He notices, even in that crazy adrenaline filled moment that the large end of the dildo makes a loud farting sound as it exits her body. He feels embarrassed for her, not for the orgasm, which was sublime, but the fart.

He is still rooted to his chair, still in shock, as Prakash walks up to her and starts yelling about Diwali bonuses. 

What? Diwali bonus? What is he talking about? Diwali isn’t until next month. What in the hell is he talking about?

Finally, Ramesh notices the dildo writhing on the floor, and he returns to the app and powers it off. The dildo dances on the carpet for a second more and then lies still. He feels like he has vanquished some crazy animal that might’ve attacked him. He breathes out in relief. 

But there is more going on in front of him, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Swati is halfway up, fear and anger in her face.

“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?” She is screaming, half incoherent, and there is drool hanging down from her open mouth.

Then Prakash has Swati by the hair and is pulling, yelling, screaming. She is half off the floor, on her knees, but trying to get his hands off her hair. It must hurt, and he can see Swati madam’s face contorted in pain. 

Prakash seems to be in a frenzy, his face a rictus of rage, still spouting incomprehensibly about how he is not good enough, and still ranting about Diwali bonuses. 

Ramesh sits still, frozen.

Swati is still on her knees now, still trying to get her hair free, her neck twisted at an angle and her face a mask of pain. Prakash pulls her up by the hair, she is upright now. 

He relaxes his grip, but still holds on to her hair. They are almost face to face now and she is still yelling about how the hell he has managed to get into the office. 

Swati’s next move is to cover her breasts with one hand and her pussy with the other. She is failing miserably at both because Prakash is right there, within a foot of her, practically breathing his paan masala and cigarette flavored breath into her face.

He screams some more.

Then his face clears. The shadow of a grin appears on his face. A grin of triumph.

Swati isn’t screaming in pain anymore. But she is still trying to cover her privates, even though she must surely know there is no use.

“Shut your mouth!” Prakash yells. “Shut your fucking mouth!” With his free hand, he backhands her across the face, and her head snaps back. Immediately, red marks appear on her face. It must’ve been a really hard blow.

She is still covering her pussy and tits. Surely, her hand should go to her cheek to soothe the pain there, but her dignity must be more important to her. 

Prakash yells again, incoherent with rage. With his free hand, Prakash slaps at her hand that is covering her boobs. Short, quick slaps, like something a girl might do. 

Slap! Slap! Slap! The flat sounds of hand striking flesh reverberate in the large conference room. 

He slaps her hands and chest without discrimination, and several blows land on her boobs. Her complexion is so fair, and almost immediately, her breasts take on a reddish hue.

“Down!” He yells. “Hands down!” Slap, slap, slap.

This is the very opposite of what guys say in the movies when they have a gun in hand, and Ramesh is tickled by the irony.


He doesn’t think Swati madam will comply, but to his great surprise, she relaxes and her hands fall to her side. Her face is till held up by the pressure on her hair, but otherwise he thinks she might have been lowered it, eyes on the ground. Like one of those village women in the presence of a man. 

There is something in her face that looks like resignation to him, but he can’t be sure.

[Rocky Rakesh]

She loves submission. Here it is. Awesome

[chellaporukki]

Nice one

[Gandhi krishna]

Fantastic

[Ananthukutty]

Beautiful narration

[xavierrxx]

excellent dear

[creamydelight]

I can see it happening in front of my eyes... it's so well narrated

[Kamalesh Nathan]

Fantastic update

[S Darko]

Swati’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, embarrassment, humiliation, and yes, anger. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

How did this man enter the building?


She takes in his chaprasi uniform and sees the word security on his name tag. Prakash Majhi, it says, and then Garage Security. 

But surely, garage security isn’t allowed inside the building? Her mind cannot fathom what has happened, how it has happened. Ramesh was supposed to sweep the area, the whole floor, and make sure there is nobody there. 

Unless, of course, he is in collusion with this new guy. 

Her whole world is collapsing in front of her eyes. 

Her face is hot. She has embarrassed herself, coming like that, orgasming in front of this new man. She remembers her body jerking in orgasm, like a bitch in heat, like one of the dogs copulating on the street, except that she has been solo in this. 

Solo that is, other than her Lush 2 vibrator. She understands that Ramesh must’ve jammed the button on the phone app, and that triggered the increased rumblings inside her body. She had been close, humping the air, giving Ramesh a show to end all shows, and then the man had come in. 

Her nerve endings were firing, and she was on track for a big O, and then Ramesh had jammed the button, turning it up to the max. 

Even when she was alone, she has never turned the thing up all the way. Too powerful, she knows, at least for her body. 

And when the vibrations hit her, and she’d lost all control. There was no option but to surrender to the sensations. Every nerve ending was firing, from the ones in the cunt, her G spot, her overstimulated nipples and it wasn’t just her sex organs. 

All of her body had been on fire. There were sensations in her belly, breasts, her chest. She felt winded, light headed. 

And then she had fallen, still jerking and convulsing, still orgasming out of control. She had fallen on her fleshy ass with a thud, but had hardly felt it. She is sure that tomorrow she will, but now the adrenaline had numbed it all.

And most embarrassing was the queef, the vaginal fart she had let out as the dildo pulled free. A farting sound, unlike anything she had experienced before. For a brief moment, she wonders about what the men would think about that. And then her mind focuses on more important issues.

The interloper has started yelling something about low class and high class, and bizzarely, about Diwali bonuses. Diwali was still a month away, wasn’t it? She hadn’t looked at the calendar, relying on her mother to remind her of these things. 

She has been too busy, with her work and her fantasy life with Ramesh. 

Wait, she thinks, if Ramesh accidentally jammed the button, surely he must not be in on the plan, the plot? No, Ramesh is too innocent. This must be something else. Perhaps the man has watched the security cameras…and then she remembered the cameras in the conference room. 

She looks around wildly. And there they are, four of them, or perhaps more that she can’t see. At least four, one in each corner of the room. They are used for teleconferences, especially when foreign clients or partners are involved. How can she have forgotten them?

Her mind goes back to Ramesh. It was he who had suggested the conference room. She is ambivalent about his involvement now.

She is screaming at the new man. Incoherent words. Some to the effect that who the hell is he, how the hell has he entered, and so on. There is also a lot of wordless gibberish. 

The man though, doesn’t look cowed at all. In fact, he looks equally irate. He continues to scream at her, meaningless words about him not being good enough. And then again the Diwali bonus.

Then she recognizes him. The guy from the garage! This is the guy that sits in the kiosk, saluting everyone that comes in or out. She also remembers the little altercation between them.
 
He wanted a Diwali bonus. Last year. And she’d been stressed with an upcoming deadline and refused. Churlishly, she had told him, didn’t he get paid for doing his job? She had felt bad later, but she hadn’t done anything to remedy the situation. 

And now, this. 

The man is advancing on her. She tries to get up, rotating her legs behind her, and makes it to her knees. Her legs are still too weak from the orgasm. An undignified position, sure, but she is the wronged party here, isn’t she? He is the interloper. She will have his job! 

But the man won’t shut up. She suddenly realizes her situation. She is stark naked, not a stitch on her, and she has just managed to pull the damned gulabi dildo out of her body. He has been there to witness both the cataclysmic orgasm and the aftermath. He has watched her frantically pulling at the pink dildo, which refused to come out. Her spasming cunt must’ve have latched on to the dildo with a vice-like grip, but in the end she has pulled it out, still vibrating and jerking. 

And don’t forget the queef. 

She has thrown it onto the floor where it still lays juddering and jumping around.
 
And then, before she can think further, the man has her by the hair, and he is pulling her up, still shrieking at her. 

It is surreal.

Then something changes. 

The man slaps her, and her head jerks hard at the blow. Her hands are still covering her privates, and even though she wants to touch her cheek and see if there is blood, her hands refuse to move. She has never been slapped in her life, not like this anyway. For a moment, her mind goes blank.

Then he is slapping at her hands, her boobs, and there is a heat in her chest, and she drops her hands. First the one covering her boobs, then the one over her pussy. 

Her orgasm has faded, and the moisture in her cunt is drying up. She feels cold now, the air conditioning kicking in and making her nipples hard, though this time it is not from arousal. 

She knows that this is a dangerous situation, and the adrenaline is flowing, but there is something else. She doesn’t mind the treatment this unknown man is giving her. 

She stands there with her hands by her sides, her head still upturned because of the death grip he has on her hair. Otherwise, she feels sure, she would be staring at the ground in shame. 

She tries to look at Ramesh, but the man is still in the way, covering her field of vision entirely. 

The man is speaking. He relaxes his grip on her hair, and she does too
.
“We’re going to have some fun, eh, bitch?” His voice is calmer now, but there is unmistakeable menace in it. 


She trembles at the thought of what he means, what he could mean. Deep down, though, she knows. 

This is the beginning of a downslide.

[AjitKumar]

Very good update

[sexycharan]

Amazing

[fuckandforget]

Prakash has started the game

[jiljilrani]

Very nice

[Mookuthee]

Time for prakash and Ramesh to fuck and fill her holes in round robin.

[Vasanthan]

Swati to enjoy the one that she longed for.