Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

The truck in front of her changed lanes without signaling, par for the course here. No one even drove in their lanes, and she wondered why they even bothered to draw them at all. 


Her thoughts drift back to Prakash and the conference room. Last month, Prakash fucked her silly in the hallway, not even waiting to get to the conference room while Ramesh looked on. 

Prakash spent a good, long time edging her, taking her close to orgasm and then pulling back until she was horny like an alley cat. He could tell when she was about to come, the tells on her face and body, the quickening of her breath, the tightening of the cords in her neck. He was an expert in her, his whore. She screeched her frustration at him, just like a feral cat might, and he slapped her. 

He dragged her by the hair to the conference room and said, “What do you want, cunt?”

She said she wanted to be fucked, she wanted to come. She said this in broken English, so he would understand, but he had not understood, or at least pretended not to. He made as though to consider what she was saying, a big show of scratching his head and looking confused. 

“Which hole?” he said finally.

“Any hole, take any hole,” she said. She bent over and spread her cheeks, showing him her holes, both of which were dilated and gaping by this time. 

“I’m not sure…” he said, “It doesn’t seem to me that you really want it.” He made a show of looking at his watch as though he were late for something. 

“No! Please, please, I really want it! I’ll do anything!”

“Really? Anything?” His tone was skeptical. 

“Yes, anything,” she said, not even thinking for a moment what she was saying. 

It wasn’t like she was offering him something he’d not had. Not that she had a choice anyway. Prakash would have taken her anyway, any hole, any which way he pleased, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. 

Prakash stuck his finger into her pussy, bent it and hooked her up so she was standing on her tiptoes. “Whose hole is this?”

Swati moaned, and her hips writhed in frustration. Hurry up and fuck me already, she thought. “Yours, Malik!”

“Hmm.” He pulled his finger out and stuck it in her ass. Two fingers this time. “And this one?"

“Yours Malik!”

Prakash pulled his fingers out of her asshole and stuck it directly into her open mouth. Swati was beyond all the niceties of cleanliness and hygiene by now. She didn’t care that Prakash’s cock stank of urine and stale sweat. She didn’t care that Prakash was now sticking his fingers in her mouth, the same fingers that had been in her ass just seconds ago. 

Instead, she sucked on his fingers with gusto, rotating her hips in an approximation of the sex act, moaning all the time. Prakash had seemed satisfied by her responses, and his cock had seemed to stiffen even more in response. The veins stood out at attention on his turgid member.

Swati thought Prakash was satisfied with the way he had trained her. She was happy with the training too. Stick and carrot. The stick was sometimes a slap, a caning on her ass, slapping on various parts of her body, sometimes his leather belt, but the carrot, oh, the heights of sexual ecstasy mixed in with pain was nothing she had ever experienced before. 

Prakash asked Ramesh to open the window. She hadn’t known the windows could be opened, but open they did, but not in the conventional way of windows but as a whole. The large panel of glass in front her swiveled out and away and right there was a small ledge with a railing around it, suspended with steel cables and pulleys. Perhaps it was for the window washers to stand on, or for some other function. It could barely be seen from the street, even if you knew where to look. Maybe it changed places with each day, depending on where the workers needed to work.

Prakash took her there, from behind, in the ass and then in the pussy, changing every few strokes while she stood bent over, clutching at the railing for dear life, fifteen floors above the ground. 

From across the street, she could see lighted office windows and people gathered. She wondered if they could see her being hammered in this lewd fashion. She thought they might see a woman being fucked, but they wouldn’t know it was her, nor would they know who was fucking her. The thought of exhibiting herself to so many more people at the same time excited her, and she exploded into orgasm.

Another time, Prakash fucked her against the window pane, her breasts flattened on the glass, nipples spread like pancakes while he thrust into her from behind over and over. She worried the glass might crack, but it was the reinforced kind, not easy to break. 

That was also the night he had humiliated her by calling in the chai w,.' for the first time. 

He called the guy on his mobile and when he’d shown up, Prakash had escorted the guy upstairs while she lay in post-coital bliss. He’d told him that the madam would pay him in kind for the three cups of tea. She had felt extremely embarrassed and shamed, trying to cover her privates with her hands, but then she realized how ridiculous that was. 

She dropped her hands and got into the spirit of things and gave him a blowjob, still tentative, but slowly getting more into the bizarre situation. She gave him a good sucking, even though his cock was relatively small. The advantage was that he couldn’t choke her like Prakash could. Still, it was larger than Inder’s. 

Prakash humiliated her further by asking her to admit she was nothing but a cheap whore, a whore who would take cock in any and every hole, whatever the client wanted. He made her say she wanted to be fucked, humiliated, then he spit on her, made her lick the spit up and shine his shoes with her tongue, all in front of the chai w,.' who had his eyes so wide they looked like poached eggs.

She still remembers the conversation as though it were some kind of catechism. 

“Who are you?”

“I’m a whore, a randi”

“What do you want?

“I want to be fucked.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a whore!”

“You really want strange men to stick their cocks in you”

“Yes! Yes! I want cocks! I want strange men to fuck me in all my holes!”

All this had to be accompanied by her spreading her legs, showing off her holes. Sometimes she bent over and displayed her holes, her breasts dangling in front of her. Other times, Prakash made her heft her own boobs, and pull on her nipples while repeating the catechism. 

Her vocabulary in Hindi had also improved with the incessant coaching, and now most of the dialogues were spoken in Hindi with only the occasional word in English. 

[abcturbine]

Amazing............

[abcturbine]

Amazing...............

[Rangushki]

Super update

[pro10]

perfect comeback.
excellent update..❤️

[desiass]

wow simply wow for your writing skills
Please provides updates frequently when ever you can

[S Darko]

The fat man, Inder, only occasionally joined in the fun and games. His thing seemed to be primarily watching remotely. Still, one afternoon, he had walked into her office at lunchtime, and shut the door behind him. 


He looked her up and down while she half stood behind her desk. He looked unsure of what he was doing.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she said. “Is there some IT problem?”

“No,” he said, his voice rising a little. He looked around uneasily, as though fearing an interruption or to see if there were others in the office. He was sweating profusely.

They looked at each other for a long minute while Swati wondered what was happening. 

Inder lost his composure and yelled at her. “Whore!” He said. “Take off your clothes. All of them!”

She had looked around uncertainly, but she didn’t have a choice. 

She dumped her clothes on the floor, thankful that the door was closed. It was eerily similar to the scene which had started this whole saga, the night Ramesh had barged in. 

She was now comfortable with the idea of being naked, even in front of strangers, and Inder wasn’t really a stranger. He had seen her naked before, and she had sucked him off a couple of times. He hadn’t fucked her, had he? She couldn’t remember for sure. 

Inder then pushed her under the desk, pulled his pants down and told her to fellate him.
“Suck,” he said. 

He seemed to have mastered his emotions now, and felt more in control.

She squatted in the dark, small space and pulled his pants further down. She found him semi-soft and massaged with one hand, licking the tip of his cock and coaxing him to full hardness. Swati wondered how this situation had come about. Did this mean she was just one step removed from being the office whore? At the beck and call of anyone who wanted to get their rocks off?

As she blew him, she heard someone knock on the door and walk in. Shit, the door wasn’t locked!

She couldn’t see who it was, but she recognized Ashok’s voice. She had completely forgotten he was coming by to take her out to lunch that day. He’d even reminded her in the morning. It was an unusual thing, but Ashok had been acting differently of late.

Inder had apparently been completely unfazed, even though he was sitting half naked in her office chair, getting his dick sucked by the man’s wife. But Swati could feel his thighs becoming sweaty, a little clammy.

“Oh, she must’ve gone to the emergency meeting,” he said with a slight waver in his voice.

Ashok was incredulous. “And who are you?”

“Oh me…I’m the IT guy, fixing her laptop.” 

Her laptop lay open in front of him, and was about as convenient an excuse as any. Better than what she had come up with for her “rashes,” she remembered thinking at the time. 

As Ashok departed, muttering under his breath, she felt Inder relax. His cock which had started to soften in her mouth, became hard again.

“Go on,” he said, his voice a little hoarse now. 

Swati finished the blowjob, swallowed without being told, and when the coast was clear emerged from under the desk and hastily donned her clothes. 

Had Ashok seen her discarded clothes on the floor? What would he have thought about it? She didn’t know, and she was slowly starting to think she didn’t care. 

[Askk2me]

keep these erotic updates coming our way. Good to see the thrill going to next level which indirectly influences Swati to take more risks... May be a bit of voyeurism?? Who knows what you have in mind, but surely this is awesome thread.

[Dumeelkumar]

Excellent

[S Darko]

The drive seems endless. She is finally on the Ring Road, and she has many kilometers to go before they reach Abhi's house. A little snore tells her Ashok is still sleeping. She wonders if he is hungover.

The next time in the conference room, she had been fucked twice by Prakash and then the chai w,.', whose name she had since learned was Ganesh, and as she lay on the carpet, she felt the urge to pee. 


A very strong urge. 

The two men had taken her ass and pussy and mouth until every hole felt raw and sated, but now her bladder was bursting. Earlier in the day, she needed to do a presentation to an overseas client, and in her nervousness, she drank more than her usual quota of coffee and water.

She rose and started to walk nonchalantly to the restroom at the end of the hall, just beyond the glass doors of the conference room. 

Prakash said, “And where do you think you’re going, whore?” 

Very casual, but there was not mistaking the authority behind the voice. 

He almost always called her whore, only occasionally as “Swati madam,” but that was usually with sarcasm, or in the presence of other people when they were clothed. 

The chai w,.', who had by now become accustomed to the way of things, chimed in with, “Yeah whore, where do you think you’re going? We’re not done with you yet.” 

He was an accomplished second fiddle, the little fucker. She might let him fuck her, mostly because she didn't have a choice, but also because he was low class, a blue collar worker. But that didn't mean she couldn't have a private opinion of him. 

Swati raised her pinkie and motioned toward the bathroom. “Going to the toilet.”

“Oh, you need to pee?” Prakash’s mouth twisted in a smirk.

“Ye-es,” she said, alarm bells ringing in her head.

“Why, you can do it right here!” He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her. He rose and emptied the bowl of chocolates onto the table and invited her to hop on to the table.

Shit. She didn't have a choice. That was part of what she loved about this. 

She hastened to comply. If she dallied, it would only be worse for her. Sometimes she welcomed that, but right now, she really needed to go.

He told her to spread her legs and show them her pussy. 

She did so, fingers on either side of her pussy, spreading it to reveal the reddened tissues inside. 

Prakash and Ganesh looked carefully at the offering of flesh, as though to memorize it. 

Prakash put the bowl under her ass, and said, “Go. Do it here. I want to see.”

The chai w,.' was fascinated. “I’ve never seen a woman pee before,” he said.

“See, you hang out with me, and you’ll see all kinds go things,” Prakash said, and the Ganesh gave him a fist bump. 

Swati felt her face becoming hot as she blushed. 

It was one thing to flaunt her nudity, even put on shows, fuck these men, but she wasn’t sure she could bear the humiliation of peeing in front of these men. 

She looked around for Ramesh, but he wasn’t there that day. Of late, Ramesh had been occasionally skipping these sessions. 

She felt more exposed than she ever had before. Even though the men had seen and used her most private of parts, entered her every hole, this felt like a new kind of exposure, a new kind of invasion. 

A humiliation that she had not been prepared for. 

In the end, she had no choice. Of course not.

She squatted over the bowl. For a long time, her pee wouldn’t flow. 

And then it had dribbled out, slowly becoming a thicker stream, and she closed her eyes and sighed in relief. 

When she was done, there was nothing to wipe with, and she let it go. The men were staring at her in fascination, clearly having never seen a woman pee in this proximity. 

She reddened and lowered her head. 

Ganesh took the bowl away and pushed her onto her back, still on the conference table. 

She wondered about this table--it must be pretty rank by now if no one cleaned it. She hoped Ramesh did a good job on it after their adventures here.

Then Ganesh stuck his head between her legs and stared licking her cunt, lapping at it like a kitten might at a bowl of milk. 

Prakash sighed and got up on the table and stuck his cock in her mouth. And of course, within a few minutes, Inder had joined them. He couldn’t resist chocolates.

[abcturbine]

Amazing bro......
You are awesome....
Keep going...

[vishuvanathan]

Wholesome Whore

[fuckandforget]

Amaaaazzzzinggggg

[Rocky Rakesh]

Very interesting

[Askk2me]

Great going....

[King Kesavan]

Very nice updates

[Chitrarassu]

Superrrr

[S Darko]

It is late afternoon by the time they reach Abhi’s house. It is a two-story bungalow style house in a neighborhood of similar homes, with a large ornamental wrought iron gate and a sentry at the guardhouse. It reminds her a little of Prakash in his glass box. 


This guard is dark, bald and had a large mole on his cheek, like a villain in a Hindi movie, something that would have put her off in a previous life, but now it only makes her curious about how he might fuck her. The gate slides open, and they drive down a circular driveway and are met at the main door by a liveried valet. She gives him the keys, and he tells her he will get their bags.

Just then, the main door opens and Abhi and Menaka step out. 

Swati and Ashok both stiffen in surprise at the costumes the two are wearing. Abhi is in a white Arab dress complete with headband.  Menaka is wearing a loose fitting, shimmery but almost transparent shirt, and a pair of harem pants of the same material. Underneath, in the low lighting of the driveway and the last of the setting sun, Swati can see a set of dark lace bra and panties under the outerwear. She is heavily made up with dark eye shadow and glittery stuff on her cheeks. She looks beautiful, ravishing in fact.

“Didn’t realize it was a costume party,” Ashok says after he picks his jaw off the ground. “If you’d told us, we would have come prepared.”

Swati watches Abhi and Ashok as they shake hands. 

Ashok turns to Menaka and opens his arms for a hug. She steps in and Ashok whispers something in her ear. In the meantime, Abhi comes in for a hug, obviously a reciprocal one, and Swati feels his arms around her, one hand on her ass, gently squeezing and groping. 

So, she has been right. This was a sex thing. Probably swinging.

“You’re going to enjoy this weekend,” he whispers wetly in her ear.

Swati gives him a tinkly giggle, thinking he would appreciate it.

“What’s with the costume?” She says as they walk into the lobby. 

“Oh, nothing…this is just one of the role play things we do sometimes. I’m a rich Arab sheikh, and she is a slave, for auction, you know…oh, and we have costumes for you too in case you were wondering.”

Swati says nothing. She glances at Ashok, but he seems to be taking all this in with a degree of comfort and equanimity she finds surprising. He must be in on the whole plan, or at least parts of it. 

The lobby is grand, a three story, yawning expanse, richly decorated with dbangries, curtains, and gilded furniture. None of it looks very comfortable, but then she notices a separate area near the back where there are mattresses laid out on the floor, full of very comfortable pillows and blankets. It looks like the setting of a very decadent mujra, the only missing thing being the dancing girls.

Milling about are four more couples who are introduced to them, but Swati forgets the names almost immediately. Even though they’re all are in costume, dressed up as Arab sheikhs and harem girls, albeit the sexy type, underneath, they look like the successful banker or corporate type people she has known all her life. 

There are drinks. Top shelf stuff, Johnny Walker Blue, Pappy van Winkle, and Glenfiddich, and a bunch of others she has never heard of. She sticks to Grey Goose, and sips slowly and carefully as she gets a measure of the people around her. 

The conversation swirls around her, ebbing and flowing like the currents of a river. She says as little as she can, and there are no intrusive personal questions, but also no hints as to what will happen later. She supposes that the festivities might happen later, after dinner. 

A thought strikes her. What if this is just an elaborate fancy dress party and nothing more? She fingers the thin material of her harem pants and shirt and feels more exposed than she does in her office conference room, where she wears nothing at all. 

There are waiters in uniform who move around the room carrying trays of finger food. She tries some exotic sounding and pretty looking things. Lots of protein—paneer this, and chicken that, and even beef, even though most people would never admit to eating beef in any other company, this one seems to be among people who are elite, where such things are not talked about. 

 Once the food is cleared away, the servants disappear, melting away like butter hitting a hot skillet. Abhi brings out a bottle of Bailey’s. 

“There are other liqueurs, if you so prefer,” he says and rattles off a few names that Swati dent recognize other than Kahlua, a coffee liqueur. 

Everyone picks up a shot glass from a tray of them on the coffee table, and Abhi walks around filling glasses. Then, at a signal, everyone drains their glass, in the fashion of tequila shots. Swati follows suit after a moment.

“No one likes tequila, I mean like really like? You know what I mean? So we decided to do this instead. It’s our own thing.”

Swati nods like she understands. 

“To this evening’s horse-trading…or rather, slave trading,” says one of the men, raising his shot glasses. He is a mustachioed dark man with a South Indian accent. Malayali if she has to guess.

Abhi sits down on the couch between Swati and Ashok. “You guys know the rules of the game, yeah?”

Ashok looks uncertain, but he nods and Swati shakes her head at the same time. They look at each other, embarrassed, and both laugh in the unsure way when both parties make an inadvertent joke.

“Oh,” Abhi says and stands up, a surprised expression on his face. “You guys are newbies?” This last is said louder and everyone turns to look at them. Ashok looks embarrassed, but Swati looks on with curiosity. This is definitely weird. 

“All right everyone!” Abhi claps his hands and the little conversation also fades away. Everyone is looking at Abhi, now standing in the middle of the large room. 

“A little going over the basics of the rules here. For the edification of our new friends here.” He points his head at Swati and Ashok. 

“Each of us here has a harem girl that counts as an asset. That would be the woman you came here with. It could be your wife, or girlfriend, or escort for the night, whatever. He can sell her, or not, and he can decide at the auction what he wants for her. Whoever buys the girl will have her for the night. Simple, yes?”

Ashok puts his hand up like he was in a class. “What about the money? Are we using real money here?”

Abhi laughed. “What do you think?”

Then he turns to the audience and says in his announcer voice, “All right. Shall we begin?”

The others know the routine, and the men retire to the low placed mattresses and pillows at the edge of the room and settle themselves on the cushions in a semicircle. In the middle is the swarthy man who spoke before, and Swati remembers his name as Krishnan. 

The women withdraw to the kitchen. She sees Menaka preparing one of the other women, a woman as busty as herself, but a few inches shorter, giving her an even more slutty look. She is also a little plump, but then some men like them that way. 

Menaka touches up her lipstick, tugs on the woman’s bra, giving her cleavage more definition, and gives her styled hair a quick rearranging. “Go,” she whispers, and pushes her toward Abhi.

Swati wonders at this strange game where the women are commodities to be sold like cattle. She flashes back to her own fantasy of only a few days ago where she was being fucked in the ass by Prakash and her holes were on display. “Here sir, here are her holes, 40,000 dirhams only sir,” she remembers thinking at the time even as she was being fucked into the stratosphere. 

In comparison, this looks very dignified and staid. For one thing, the women are clothed and there is hardly a naughty word spoken. Even the women are addressed respectfully as, “harem girls” rather than whores or bitches.

Abhi, it seems, is going to be the auctioneer. 

He takes Sudha by the arm and stands under a spotlight that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. He looks like a game show host, with his arm around her shoulder, the sides of their bodies making full contact. 

“Gentlemen, we have here a superb South Indian beauty. She is thirty-two years old, and her statistics are thirty-eight--”

Here he waits for the wolf whistles to die down before resuming. Swati wonders if he knows the number to be true or if he is just guesstimating. 

“Thirty, and forty. What do you bid for such a sexy item?”

The men talk among themselves and there is a low murmur of voices. 

“Ten thousand!” Krishnan says. 

Swati thinks this is probably not Krishnan’s wife, but then she hears Abhi say, “Kris man, you can’t bid on your own wife! I mean slave girl.”

Krishnan looks shamefaced and the man next to him, Ravi, says, “Twenty thousand.” He is halfway supine, one elbow solidly planted on a fat bolster.
“Twenty thousand one—“

“Thirty.” This time it is the bearded guy that looks like he might be a wrestler. 

One of the women leans over and whispers in Swati’s ear. “Baldev. He is actually my brother-in-law.”

Swati turns to her. “You’re here with him?”

The woman nods. Swati’s mouth falls open a little, but the woman says, “Nothing to worry. My husband is gay and Baldev, well, he is very well-endowed…” she grabs her right forearm midway to demonstrate. Swati makes big round eyes to indicate her surprise, and the woman giggles. 

“Aparna,” she says. 

Meanwhile, the bidding is proceeding apace. Baldev has reached ninety thousand and Abhi is saying, “Sold! For ninety thousand to Mr Baldev Singh.”

He leads Sudha who walks demurely with her eyes on the ground as though she were really a slave girl just purchased at auction. Abhi leaves her at the edge of the mattress and Baldev indicates his feet where she should sit, and she does.

[jiljilrani]

Nice update

[LustyLeo]

Superb