Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[desiass]

please update waiting for the next episode.

[masochist]

waiting for next update

[Vicky Viknesh]

Go on

[Chitrarassu]

Waiting for next update

[Ragasiyananban]

Great story

[S Darko]

Prakash stands up abruptly. The chair rolls back several feet. Ramesh too is standing. 


Prakash puts on his underwear, then his pants. His face is tight, and he wears an expression of regret, sadness. He has not been able to rise to the occasion. He doesn’t know, but thinks it is probably because he hasn’t slept in so long. He is tired, no, exhausted. All it will take is a good night of sleep and he will be good as new. 

He has tried to get it up as best he can. He has had the whore suck him, he has played with her tits, her pussy, made her pose for him, but none of it has worked. He is still soft and limp like a noodle. 

Prakash has tried to make the whore use the toy on herself to stimulate him. Perhaps, if the oral stimulation didn’t work, maybe the visual would? But even though the whore uses the toy and brings herself off in another spectacular orgasm, her whole body shaking, Prakash stays limp.

He looks at Ramesh. Some help here, he thinks? Will the guy not even try to fuck the whore, now that he has shown him what she is? When will his heroine-worship end? 

He shakes his head. It is time.

“Chal,” he says to Ramesh. “Let’s go now.”

It is after seven in the evening, and his shift is long over. 

He looks at Swati who is cowering on the floor in front of him. She has tried her best to revive his cock, but it hasn’t been effective. He has yelled at her ineptitude and make her feel worthless. Just like she is. A worthless whore. There will be more lessons in the future, Prakash thinks.

“Go now,” he says, “but be back day after tomorrow.” An extra day to recover would be good. He consults his watch, a cheap Rolex knock-off. “At six in the evening. I want you to be just like you are right now.” He raises his eyebrows and nods, just to make sure she understands. 

Then, he clarifies further. “Nangi, just like this.”

He tilts his head and looks at her as though waiting for an answer.

Swati looks up at him out of the corner of her eye. He raises his eyebrows and she nods yes. He raises his eyebrows further and waits until she says in Hindi, “Yes…Malik.”

He turns and strides to the door. As he pulls at the handle, he turns and says in thickly accented but understandable English, in a TV announcer’s voice, “Same place, same time, see you!”

He walks out, not waiting to see if Ramesh is following him or not. There is, he thinks, some shame in not being able to get it up even when the whore is trying. 

He will face Ramesh later. But he doesn’t think he will give him an explanation. 

#

Ramesh follows Swati as she walks to her office. Her gait is a little different, even though she is till in her high heels. She lurches more than walks. Her ass must be hurting, he thinks.

“Madam,” he says, “Swati madam?”

She turns to him, her expression unreadable. 

He is not sure what to say. He has been complicit with her in the fun and games so far. At least until Prakash burst in and took over. He tried to make sure she was okay with the rough treatment Prakash was giving her, even asked if she was okay, and she said she was. Ramesh isn’t so sure. Who gets off with that kind of treatment?

The beating, sure it wasn’t as bad as what his father used to give him, but then, he never enjoyed it. Swati madam, on the other hand, actually came from that kind of treatment. 

It’s not as though he hasn’t seen this kind of thing. In the temple, all kinds of sex acts were performed, including ones where the girl was tied up and beaten. He had seen a man use a whip on one of them, and he had asked the head priestess about it. She had told him that as long as the parties consented, everything was fair. Some people got off on the pain. Pain and pleasure, she said, worked hand in hand, like two sides of the same coin. 

He can see her ass is a dull red, with small redder streaks presumably where Prakash’s nails have scratched her, and now that she has turned to face him, her breasts too. Her fair complexion allows him to see the redness. She is still breathing hard after the last orgasm using the gulabi toy. 

Prakash forced her to use it on herself. He suspects Prakash isn’t quite the cocksman he makes himself out to be. Why, he couldn’t get it up after the fist time, even with all the oral stimulation Swati madam provided. Not even when she came spectacularly with the toy, and Ramesh was controlling it remotely with her phone. Ramesh himself has been hard as a rock all through the entire hour or so this drama has been going on. 

“Are you okay, madam?” He has nothing else to say. He is aware that when Prakash visits in a couple of days, the activity will escalate. There will be more beating, he is sure, and probably sex. Of all kinds. 

He is sure Prakash will try and take her anally as he has so often boasted, and he wants to be sure she is accepting of this.

But she is smiling. Her dimples, which have won his heart, are on display.Sure, she looks tired, but the last few hours have been physically taxing on her.

She nods at him. “Yes, I’m okay.”

Ramesh wants to ask more, to get her to elaborate.

“You fell from the chair,” he says, and points to his own butt. “It must’ve hurt, no?”

“Not really,” she says. Then, “a bit…I suppose I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

Ramesh is still clutching her phone in his hand, and now he extends it to her. She accepts it without a work. He has the gulabi toy in his other hand, but he holds on to it.

They reach her office. 

Swati dresses quietly. There is no more conversation, but Ramesh is watching her closely. Her breathing is slower now, and the redness is slowly receding from her ass and tits. He delights, as usual in her nudity, her sexy nakedness. Nangi! 

He thinks. This is all so sublime.

Finally, she is ready to leave. 

Ramesh lays the gulabi toy on the desk. Swati madam looks at it, then picks it up and puts it in the drawer along with her other toys. 

In the distance, a door opens and closes with a bang. It is the main door to this floor, the door that leads to the elevator bank. It must be Prakash leaving. He must’ve gotten tired of waiting for Ramesh.

“That yellow ball madam? What is it?”

Swati reddens and pulls it out of the drawer. She holds it in her hand as though debating something. Perhaps she is wondering whether to tell him.

“It is to put in the mouth, like this.” She demonstrates but opening her mouth wide and putting the ball in. She doesn’t fasten the straps behind her head, but Ramesh understands. 

It is a gag. He doesn’t know why someone might use it, but perhaps to make them quiet? It would have come in handy in the conference room when she was hollering loud enough to alert everyone in the building had someone been there. 

He nods.

She removed the gag and wipes it with her kurti and stores it in the drawer.

They look at each other for a moment. They both realize that a boundary has been crossed that cannot be uncrossed. Something fundamental in their relationship has changed. There is now an additional person in the mix. Things are getting a little out of control. 

[creamydelight]

Awesome.

It's the small things really. The way she wiped the gag on her dress.

Didn't she clean the gulabi toy also??

[Ananthukutty]

Fantastic update

[pro10]

perfect combination of horniness and submission.
my fav story now.

[desiass]

superb update

[Vasanthan]

Time ran fast. When Ramesh is going to get lucky

[S Darko]

Ashok is sitting in his favorite chair, watching a match on TV when Swati comes in. He takes a swig of his beer, smiles and waves a hand at her. This is unusual, this acknowledgement and greeting, he knows, but he is a changed man. Somewhat, at least. He is going to make an effort.


He watches her as she takes off her heels by the door and smiles at him. Unusually high heels, he thinks, but he dismisses the thought. Perhaps she needed it for some office presentation. Sometimes, it isn’t just the product you sell, it is a bit of yourself too. 

She looks tired.

“Sweetie,” he says, “hard day at the office?” He hasn’t called her sweetie in a while. It is a word he uses only for her and Dhruv, no one else. He has never felt the need or compulsion to use it with any of his concubines, whores, one night stands. Words have power, he knows.

Her smile falters, then widens at the word. A genuine smile. She nods. “Tired,” she says.

He watches as she heads off to the kitchen. 

“Did Dhurv eat? What time did you get in?” She calls over her shoulder.

“Yeah, he ate. He’s in his room on his iPad. Oh, and I got in a couple hours ago. The flight was on time.”

He watches Swati as she returns from the kitchen.
 
“Ready for dinner?” She says. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ashok says, and picks up the remote to turn the TV off, but she says, “keep watching, I have to go change, see to Dhruv…ten minutes?”

Ashok nods. Perhaps he will get lucky tonight, he thinks. Lately, well, after the resort, it has been a while, so perhaps tonight? If she’s not too tired.

Later, after dinner, as they’re washing up, he sidles up behind her and embraces her. He lightly nips her earlobes, kisses her neck. He cups her breasts from behind. One hand for one boob. He can barely contain them, but he is gentle, cupping and supporting rather than squeezing. He can, if he wants, use forefinger and thumb to gently squeeze the nipples, but not yet. This is an old signal that he’s in the mood, one that rarely fails unless she is on her period or something. But she flinches slightly, sucks in her breath, before she settles.

“What’s the matter?” He coos in her ear.

“Nothing…just a rash I think,” she says after a moment.

“On your boobs?” He is incredulous.

Again, she says nothing for a beat. Then, “I think it might be the new bra. Something is off about it. Maybe the material…” she trails off.

“So…” he says, “tonight is off?” He knows he sounds disappointed, but doesn’t care that she knows it. She should know, he thinks. He wants to make love to his wife, improve their relationship. Perhaps break some new ground with their new friends.

“No…” she says, “I mean, sure.” She sounds hesitant, unsure. 

Ashok kisses the back of her neck again, still holding her from behind, firmly cupping her breasts but not squeezing or anything. He nibbles her earlobe and she squirms. This is a sure tell. He can feel himself swelling in his pajamas. 

Later still, after the dishes are put away—Parvati is gone for the day—and Ashok helps her dry the dishes, put the leftovers away in the fridge, they adjourn for the night. 

Swati insists on turning the lights off before she undresses. 

As they make love, Ashok is surprised by how much she is eager and willing. She almost devours him. She is hungry for him, and he reciprocates. 

The viagra he has taken in anticipation kicks in and he feels like a god. He can last for ever. He can choose when he wants to come. He reduces Swati to a quivering mass of jello before he says, “Ready?”

“I already came twice,” she says, breathing the words into his ear, low and slutty. “But,” she adds as she chews her lower lip, “fuck me harder and I will come again!”

Swati never uses words like fuck, not even when they are at the height of their passion. So this is a new one for Ashok. Something has gotten into his wife for sure.

But he is energized, excited beyond anything before. He hammers into her, harder and harder. He can hear a knocking, like someone at the door and realizes it is the headboard banging against the wall. He dismisses it. 

At his peak, he pulls out, holds, and thunders into her as hard as he can go. Each time it is like a jackhammer, a pneumatic punch. He can picture himself as a giant machine, punching through impenetrable rock. 

And above the blood roaring in his ears, he can hear Swati gasping, mewling, crying out as her nails dig into his back and her legs encircle his ass, squeezing, squeezing.

Finally, with a roar, he pushes in for the last time, mashing his pelvis against hers with as much force as he can muster, and unloads. He does a few residual pumps, and he can feel his wife gripping his cock in her velvet vise, milking him. It feels like she is doing the exact same thing as he is, pumping, pumping, pumping, except in reverse. 

Exhausted, he collapses on top of her, still hard, still holding himself in her. He feels her nails still digging into his buttocks and back. Slowly, her grip relaxes.

After a while, he pulls out and flops over to his side of the bed. Swati is still breathing hard. 

“Wow! That was fantastic! How was it for you?”

He is aware that he has never asked her this question before. Usually, he would pump into her until he was done and always assumed she was done when he was. He didn’t understand the female orgasm at all. He had read some, but it confused him. Women were supposed to be multi-orgasmic, whatever the fuck that meant. 

Swati said, “it was wonderful!” She sounds genuinely sated. 

Ashok grunted. They breathe for a while, getting their wind back. 

He wracked his brains to think of what he might say to his wife of almost ten years. How had it come to this?

Finally he says, “I got a text from Abhi.”

“Abhi?”

“Yeah, Abhinav, the guy we met at the resort? His wife is Menaka…remember?”

“Oh,” she says, “them…yeah, I remember. What about them?”

Ashok thinks perhaps Swati and Menaka didn’t hit it off as well as he and Abhi did. 

So he says carefully, “Didn’t you guys get along? Like you did the whole spa thing, right?”

Swati’s reply is a little more enthusiastic. “Oh yeah,” she says, “Yeah, it was great. I like Menaka. Abhi also seems cool.”

Ashok breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, they’ve asked us over to their place in Delhi next weekend.”

“Sure,” she says after a bit, during which Ashok holds his breath. “What about Dhruv? They don’t have any kids…but I guess Parvati can stay until we return. What do you think?”

Ashok is stunned at how easy this was. He decides to push a little. “We may stay the night…” He can see her face in the dim light filtering in through the windows, and her expression is skeptical. He presses on. “You know, it’s a long drive…it could take a couple hours, and we’ll be drinking a little and…”

“Okay,” she says. Apparently she sees the logic in his words. “At their place? Or in a hotel?”

“Oh,” he says, “I think their place is pretty big…he insisted actually that we stay over.”

“But doesn’t he have other people at his party?”

“Not sure…he didn’t tell me.” Ashok knows there will be no one else. And the bed will be shared, hopefully he and Menaka and Abhi and Swati. Separately in different rooms or together in one sweaty mass? An orgy of dicks and pussies and limbs and tits. 

The thought makes his dick rise again. He looks down and says, “Hmm…look at that. Want to go again?”

Swati giggles and throws her leg over him. 

[pro10]

ready for new adventures.. 

[Ananthukutty]

Nice update

[Arul Pragasam]

Very good

[NovelNavel]

Already she wants to become slut. Now Ashok is laying the road for it. Good going.

[Askk2me]

A great thread, keep posting updates. Great narration and buildup

[S Darko]

Swati drives to work with butterflies in her stomach. 

She has no idea what the evening holds for her. She doesn’t know what Prakash will do, and what he will expect her to do other than wait for him naked in the conference room. She hopes he will not bring other people into the mix. Not yet anyway. 


She imagines for a moment, becoming the whore for the whole office and a frisson of excitement passes through her tired body. She has not slept well, and as a result hasn’t been able to wear her contacts today. Her eyes are too tired and gritty. 

She has instead worn her glasses that give her a sexy college teacher look, at least according to Ashok. 

Last night was a crazy whirlwind. After the skull fuck at the office, when Prakash hadn’t been able to get it up again, she had felt interminably horny. It is a feeling she’s been having since the adventure with Ramesh had started, but last night was something different. 

The skull fuck was both exhilarating and frightening. The feeling of complete helplessness and being used as a sex toy, a fuck doll, was so fantastic that she started to fear for her life. She worried that if this was the level of extremes she wanted to go in her sex life, craved to go in fact, she might not be able to keep her sanity. Like a drug that you have to keep escalating the dosage, she worried what she would have to do the next time to reach that same high. 

She had decided on using her dildo, the Hitachi that she had packed into her purse, hoping for a quiet session after Ashok had gone off to sleep, or maybe he was late, and she could fit it in before he arrived. But he’d been there, all solicitous and nice, and homey. Exactly what she didn’t need. 

Her needs have changed significantly over the last few months. Once, it might have satisfied her, sated her. She might have enjoyed it. But no more. Now, it is a different thing she hankers for. More danger, violence. Pain?

She was aroused all evening during the drive home, and when Ashok felt her up at the sink, it was all she could do not to scream. There was no way she was going to be able to explain the redness and scratches on her boobs and ass, and she had delayed it until he was already in bed and the lights were off. Her first instinct when she’d flinched with his touch had been to come up with the first thing that popped into her head. A rash! From a new bra. How stupid. But that was what she had said. 

The lovemaking had been ferocious and satisfying, almost as good as it had been when they had first been married. But there was something missing she felt, even as she shuddered through her orgasm. 

Again, she thought, Ashok was different, unusually responsive to her needs and requirements. What had changed? Was it her? Or was it him? She knew the answer. At least she thought she did. 

She missed the violence that she has now started associating with sex. She has been watching more BDSM porn on her computer. More degradation of the women, more beating, tying up, rough treatment, nipple torture—clips and clamps, multiple penetrations and so on. Of course, always with the VPN on. 

These days, it is not only after hours, but also during her lunch break and during any other breaks. Sometimes, she leaves the video on and just minimizes the window. Anyone can walk in and see what she has been working on. It is dangerous, she knows, but her activities have taken a life of their own. She simply can’t help herself as she fingers or vibrates herself to multiple orgasms during the day. 

Her orgasms, even when she is with her dildo have been explosive of late, but the lovemaking with Ashok was strangely unsatisfying. 

And what is that with the new couple they met at the resort? What is Ashok saying? She tries to think between the lines of their pillow talk, the post-coital conversation. He was quite insistent they make of night of it in Delhi, at the residence of Abhi and Menaka. 

Is he trying to set something up? Something to spice up their sex life? Does Ashok have the imagination to do something like that.

She remembers Menaka very well, of course. Abhinav, not so well. She thinks he was a little on the plump side, darker than Ashok, but about as tall, reasonably good-looking. Younger than them by a few years, no kids yet, they seemed well off, and from what Ashok has told her, they have a pretty large property in Delhi somewhere. What was the place in Delhi again? She can’t recall. Never mind, not important. It is not the going or getting there that occupies her mind. The GPS will lead them there when the time comes. 

What occupies her mind is the evening Ashok has proposed (and she has accepted). Will they be interacting with this new couple one on one, or will there be other guests? The way Ashok said it, she suspects there is no one else, which means there is some ulterior motive, some sneaky thing he is trying or going to try. 

What could it be? Probably wife swapping or maybe sex with each other with the other couple doing the same, and in the same room? Ashok has talked about that kind of thing in the past, but it has been a while. Yes, she thinks, that’s what it must be. It might even be fun. Abhinav is tall and handsome, and most Indian men are a little paunchy anyway, at least in her circle, so well, might as well try it. She will protest of course; she has a reputation to protect. 

She has watched everything on porn sites—threesomes, moresomes, gangbangs. In her imagination, at least, there is nothing that will shock her. If that is what Ashok is planning. Perhaps it will spice up their sex life again. Yet there is a strange feeling of being unfulfilled. Last night was good, but not as good as the preceding hours in the conference room even though there had not been any actual sex. 

Initially, it had all been a game, albeit unscripted. Prakash had been masterful, and she had gone along with his “Malik” business. Later, after the “punishment,” there were moments when she had wanted to please him, do whatever he wanted, go over and above and beyond even. As a consequence, she had felt the shame of failure when she couldn’t get him hard again afterwards. 

Yes, she has had time to consider her emotions, and it was shame for sure. She wanted so badly to please him, make him hard and have him take her there in the conference room that it was almost a physical ache that she had failed. 

As she ruminates, the garage comes up. 

Prakash—she now recognizes him, his coarse features—is at the kiosk. He gives her a smirk and points at his watch as though to remind her of their appointment in the evening. He also gives her a mock salute, quite unlike the ones he used to give her. 

She colors when she sees him, and wonders what he has up his sleeve. Her stomach flutters and she averts her eyes, but there is also a small smile playing on her lips she becomes aware of when she looks at herself in the mirror-like polished surface of the elevator doors. 

The day rushes by with her work, a presentation she zombies through, and three quick sessions in the ladies bathroom to relieve herself, and then the end of the day arrives. Her colleagues start leaving, bidding her goodbye. She overhears one of the younger ones say to another that Swati madam is so driven, she works late almost everyday. 

Ha, she thinks, if only they knew. Wait, she thinks all of a sudden. What if they did? She would either become the laughing stock of the company and made to resign in disgrace. Or…if they kept it quiet, she might become their plaything, a whore for all and sundry to do as they pleased with her all day long. She has read some stories like that on the internet. 

But, she knows, it is all a fantasy. The reality is a few minutes away when she must undress and walk to the conference room naked and wait for Prakash and allow him to whatever he pleases with her body. 

Must she? She allows herself a few seconds of introspection over the compulsive word, must. 

Prakash probably has incriminating pictures, maybe even video of her naked and showing off her nakedness like a shameless hussy. Perhaps even a video of her giving head to him in the conference room. So, what? He could put it on the internet, but there are so many naked women on the internet these days that there is a glut. 

Not like the early days of MMS scandals. Memories are short these days, and her notoriety, if there is any at all, will be short lived. Prakash could send the pictures to HR, her husband, her family she supposes, and yes, that will cause more damage, but is it something she cannot weather? She isn’t sure. 

Finally, she decides, yes, she will do it. As for must, the jury is still out. She is going to do it because she wants to, for now at least. She feels nominally in charge and as soon as that thought pops in her mind, she remembers the scene where she was gasping for breath as Prakash’s engorged organ invaded her throat again and again. She wasn’t in charge then, was she? Not hardly. 

Malik, she reminds herself, she has to call him Malik. 

Today, she has left her hair loose. She is wearing her heels and teeters precariously toward the conference room. She opens the door and walks in. 

Prakash is waiting, a sour expression on his face.

“I thought I said nangi, naked?” His voice is a bark.

Swati is disconcerted. She has taken more care than usual with her appearance today, more lipstick, a little more eye make up, her hair is loose instead of the usual professional ponytail. She has even touched up the pubic hair, shaving the stubble extra smooth in the shower. The vertical arrow is intact, more prominent for the grooming. 

She can’t imagine what she has missed. 

“The glasses,” he says, “What about the glasses?” 

As she moves her hand to remove them, he says, “stop, I like them. Leave them on.”

She guesses he likes the sexy college teacher look as well. 

[pro10]

thank you for the update but a very bad area to stop.. 
please next update with extreme degradation and hardcore banging.

[Ananthukutty]

Awesome update