17-10-2021, 10:43 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-11-2021, 10:00 PM by S Darko. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
Hi all. This one has been long in coming, but finally I got it started. Here's the first installment. It was started for on a specific request; if you're here, you know who you are, and I hope you enjoy it. The broad categories this story will have are exhibitionism, non-consent, light BDSM, humiliation, taboo, inter-racial (insofar as the different areas of India have races; more properly, I suppose inter-class) and so on as the fancy takes me and any specific requests. Please forgive any spelling and grammar errors.
Swati's Downfall
Swati Mishra settled down to a leisurely session of “polishing the pearl” as she liked to call it. She had already had a long day, very long, and needed some relief. And given the fact that she had the office to herself, there would be no interruptions.
This could be a big session, well, at least a biggish sessions. Not the furtive, in the toilet, furious relief-seeking sessions that seemed to be the norm these days, but a comfortable, relaxed, session.
The door to her office was unlocked and she rose to lock it. Then, feeling naughty, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she took off her salwar bottoms, and then her panties and tossed them on the floor next to her desk. It wasn’t much of a risk, but it made her giddy with excitement nevertheless.
Half-naked, she sat on her comfortable leather chair, took out her personal laptop and logged in. It was a complex password that she had committed to memory, a combination of letters and numbers and special characters like the best security people recommended. The leather felt cool on her bare bottom in the air conditioned office, and sent goosebumps along her smooth flanks.
Oh yes, she thought, and undid her bra by slipping her hand under her top and freeing the hooks. She brought the bra out by pulling them alternately out of her loose sleeves. She tossed the bra on the pile of clothes next to her desk. She felt almost giddy with naughtiness.
After making sure making sure she was logged on to the company wifi network, she clicked on her VPN program. When that was up, she opened a browser in incognito mode and went to her favorite website, yourkinksexposed.com, and checked for new content.
The site loaded quickly, showing several small windows of kinky sex acts in progress. Quickly, she checked for her favorite scenarios and found one she could masturbate to.
Then, and only then, did she rise to lock the office door. Her Kameez hung over her naked bottom as she padded shoeless to the door. She opened the door a crack and peeked out into the hall. There was no one there. She closed the door, softly like a thief, locked it, and went back to her desk. The frosted glass walls of her office would allow no voyeurs to peek in, and besides, it was after eight in the evening.
Subconsciously she must have known what she was doing was wrong because she tiptoed back to her desk. She unlocked and opened the bottom drawer and withdrew a small pink vibrator with a G-spot and clitoral stimulator and made sure it was working fine.
As project leader, Swati had let everyone go home and volunteered to stay behind and work on the finishing touches herself. Tomorrow the software was supposed to be deployed, and the expectation was that it would be bug free. It was a US corporation that had outsourced the critical part of this operation to their company after all.
Well, now that she had finished the finishing touches, she was entitled to some play time, something she would not have once she returned home to her husband and five year-old son. And her husband, Ashok… well, the less said about his sexual drive, the better.
There was no need for lube, she was already wet with anticipation, and the widest part of the dildo slipped in without any trouble. She clicked on the video, and it started streaming.
The scenario started playing. Usually this particular site did not believe in too much setup, and usually got into the action quickly, but some of the anticipation and fun was in the way the scene was actually set up, how the girl got into the situation, and Swati found that really exciting. Part of it was also that she delayed the onset of orgasm by getting into the scene, and as everyone knew, the more delayed the orgasm was, the sweeter it turned out to be. Not all the time, of course, but enough that it was worth it.
Slowly, lazily, she moved the dildo in and out, turning it a little, coating it in her juices getting it nice and ready for more furious action later. She gazed down at it in affection. She had bought it online, and had it delivered to her office address. Her home address would never do for several reasons, chief among which was that her son would intercept and open it.
The video played before her.
Four men entered the spooky bungalow where the heroine was supposedly taking shelter from a poorly faked storm. The bungalow was supposedly haunted and the four men were ghosts, only the heroine did not know that. The men converged on her and the woman, a really busty and scantily clad blonde, screamed initially, but soon began to sigh as her clothes were roughly ripped from her. Her thin tee shirt went first and then her short skirt.
Swati moved her left hand from the space bar to join her right, which was slowly pumping in and out of her inflamed cunt. She rubbed her fingers in the juices and then brought it to her nose. She sniffed deep. The odor of her own arousal was heady, musky and sweaty, it reminded her of a seashell she had found once. A conch. And what could be a more appropriate smell for something that even looked like a conch? She giggled at the analogy her mind had made.
One of the men, one of the two white guys, smacked the actress on her rounded rump repeatedly as it jiggled and started turning red. The Hispanic put a hand into her panties and started fingering her with rough movements.
The third man, a black guy, got behind her and started mauling her still partially clad breasts, although with the minuscule bra, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. The fourth, another white guy, peeled off his clothes and started rubbing his erect cock on her body and inserted a couple of fingers into her mouth. She sucked greedily as though his hand was a cock. She made gagging noises.
Swati switched on her vibrator and sighed in time with the bimbo on screen, like a synchronized Olympic fuck team. She inserted it deep and the curvy, larger part began to stimulate her G spot. Simultaneously the clit stimulator started strumming her clitoris. A small moan escaped her lips.
The actress was now down on her knees, sucking each of the now naked men in turn, a circle blow job. As she sucked each cock, the others fondled her tits, and fingered her pussy and ass as they reached individually and together between her widely spread thighs. Each man vied for her oral attentions as she slurped and sucked and gagged on the oversized members.
Swati had read they used injections and drugs to stay erect for long periods. And, she had read that they used girls called fluffers. These were usually wannabe porn actresses, perhaps the ones with pimples on their asses, rendering them poorly photogenic, so their job was to suck the male actors to make sure they stayed ‘upright standing citizens.’ She giggled again at the pun she had made. She briefly thought about the life of a fluffer and how she might like that.
The circle blow job went on and on. Really, she thought, was this a new director? So many porn-stars started directing or producing when they’d reached their sell by date. Then the scene faded to black.
Swati knew that big cocks like these men possessed existed only in porn, well, mostly she thought; she had no actual experience. She had fucked only one other man before Ashok, her husband, and neither of those encounters had been particularly thrilling.
And then she had stumbled onto hardcore porn, with overtones of bondage and submission and become hooked from the first story she read. It was an easy hop skip and jump form stories to videos, but she had to be careful.
A new scene started. The actress was now in full suspension, one of her favorite scenarios. Her arms were bound behind her and her legs separately suspended from the ceiling, widely spread apart of course. Tight jute rope circled her thighs and arms. For the first few seconds of the new scene, she swung freely in her bonds. Swati almost missed the padded box right under her ass.
Then the Hispanic guy got on the box and stuffed his cock into her ass. The blonde opened her mouth in a silent scream. Simulated of course, but Swati found it arousing anyway. The blonde’s breasts were bound too, and they stuck out like little round rockets. Silicone, of course, but Swati didn’t care. It looked sexy, raunchy, disgusting, and she loved it. Her own were real. She wondered how that would feel, having her tits bound and slapped.
She reached behind her and pulled her zipper down and pulled her neckline forward. She snaked her left hand inside and started rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb. She gasped as the nipple engorged with blood and stood at attention like a Gurkha guard.
On screen, the camera panned between the bimbo’s widely spread legs. A great visual of a cock stuffing her asshole and her cunt gaping slightly filled the screen. Swati stiffened slightly, anticipating the double penetration that was going to come. Any minute now.
Instead of someone stepping forward and ramming their hard-on into pussy, the big muscular black guy walked around and grabbed her head. She turned like an infant seeking its mother’s breast, mouth open, eyes close. She knew what was coming. The black guy thrust his soft-on into her mouth without ceremony.
“Suck that bitch, suck it,” he said.
A third man in the background said, “Tell us what you are, you filthy whore!”
In answer, the bimbo groaned, moaned and gagged as the black guy pushed deeper into her mouth and the hispanic below her thrust upward into her ass. Her inner labia flapped with the jerky motion.
Swati thought that particular scene was pretty good. The woman’s cunt had a loose look, like she’s been fucked a lot. The inner lips poked out, loose and flappy, looking like the wattle on a rooster. Clearly she hadn’t undergone a labio-plasty like many others in the industry.
The black guy started slapping her face with slow, deliberate wristy movements even as she sucked him with increasing enthusiasm. She made small muffled screams, moans, groans.
The black guy said, “Filthy cunt, dirty whore, worthless slut,” over and over like it was a mantra. The bimbo was loving it as she writhed on two cocks, one in her ass, one in her mouth.
Then the white guy stepped forward and started slapping her pussy with a device that looked like a flap of leather stuck at the end of a short stick. Swati had recently found out that it was called a flogger. With every stroke on her cunt, the blonde writhed and moved her hips. Swati wasn’t sure if she was trying to get away from the blows on her pussy or toward it. The white guy slowly masturbated himself with his free hand, keeping himself erect.
The scene shifted again, and this time the bimbo was air tight. Both her nether holes were stuffed tight with cock. Her glistening flesh was stretched out like a tight rubber gasket around them. Her head was turned to one side, and the black guy was ramming her mouth without mercy, using her face like a cunt.
The fourth guy, the other white guy now stepped forward from the shadows where he had presumably been getting CPR from the fluffer, and started aggressively assaulting the blonde’s tits. He pulled her nipples away from her body as though he were trying to pull them off.
Swati’s hands started moving with greater rapidity. It might have been an illusion since the vibrator had only one speed, but the vibrations seemed to speed up as well. Her left hand tweaked her nipples, back and forth, cupping, squeezing and kneading ferociously. She was close now.
The white guy kept slapping at the bimbo’s thighs, left, right, now left again, and repeating, “Tell us what you are, you filthy slut, tell us what you are!” Simultaneously, he pumped her cunt as deep as the shot would allow and still present good visuals. Swati giggled. The guy was a true multi-tasker. Maybe she could use him on her team.
The slut on screen wiggled her head from side to side as though trying to answer him, but the cock in her mouth would not let her move very far. Was she trying to answer the repeated questions or was she trying to get away or what? Swati didn’t care. The scene was uber raunchy.
The black cock pulled out of her mouth, and she gasped, “I’m a filthy whore, I’m a filthy slut! Fuck my holes, I’m a filthy slut!”
Swati’s moans had become more regular, almost keeping time with the white guy banging the blonde whore’s cunt.
The blonde screamed, “More cock! More cock!”
The guys started spanking her ass, tits, thighs, anyplace they could lay their hands on and the bimbo writhed in ecstasy as though she were loving the treatment. The black guy slapped her face back and forth, holding his enormous member with one hand.
Swati was lost in lust. Her mouth hung open as she furiously worked the vibrator into her cunt.
“Filthy fuck slut!” The black guy replaced the white guy between her open thighs and pushed in deep. His member was larger than the white guy’s and the whore opened her mouth and cried out. Incredibly, her hips started bucking like a horse trying to throw its rider off. She almost succeeded in dislodging the cocks in her. The guy in her cunt stepped back.
The camera zoomed into her pussy which was now twitching rhythmically as though it was being electrocuted.
Swati’s own orgasm swelled out like a firecracker from her clit. Waves of ecstasy rippled through her pelvis. She jammed the vibrator deep inside and started to come like she hadn’t for a very long time. A thin wail rose from her throat, rising to a crescendo as she stiffened, her entire body spasming around her center.
The lock to her office door made a loud click, and the door started to swing open.
Swati's Downfall
Swati Mishra settled down to a leisurely session of “polishing the pearl” as she liked to call it. She had already had a long day, very long, and needed some relief. And given the fact that she had the office to herself, there would be no interruptions.
This could be a big session, well, at least a biggish sessions. Not the furtive, in the toilet, furious relief-seeking sessions that seemed to be the norm these days, but a comfortable, relaxed, session.
The door to her office was unlocked and she rose to lock it. Then, feeling naughty, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she took off her salwar bottoms, and then her panties and tossed them on the floor next to her desk. It wasn’t much of a risk, but it made her giddy with excitement nevertheless.
Half-naked, she sat on her comfortable leather chair, took out her personal laptop and logged in. It was a complex password that she had committed to memory, a combination of letters and numbers and special characters like the best security people recommended. The leather felt cool on her bare bottom in the air conditioned office, and sent goosebumps along her smooth flanks.
Oh yes, she thought, and undid her bra by slipping her hand under her top and freeing the hooks. She brought the bra out by pulling them alternately out of her loose sleeves. She tossed the bra on the pile of clothes next to her desk. She felt almost giddy with naughtiness.
After making sure making sure she was logged on to the company wifi network, she clicked on her VPN program. When that was up, she opened a browser in incognito mode and went to her favorite website, yourkinksexposed.com, and checked for new content.
The site loaded quickly, showing several small windows of kinky sex acts in progress. Quickly, she checked for her favorite scenarios and found one she could masturbate to.
Then, and only then, did she rise to lock the office door. Her Kameez hung over her naked bottom as she padded shoeless to the door. She opened the door a crack and peeked out into the hall. There was no one there. She closed the door, softly like a thief, locked it, and went back to her desk. The frosted glass walls of her office would allow no voyeurs to peek in, and besides, it was after eight in the evening.
Subconsciously she must have known what she was doing was wrong because she tiptoed back to her desk. She unlocked and opened the bottom drawer and withdrew a small pink vibrator with a G-spot and clitoral stimulator and made sure it was working fine.
As project leader, Swati had let everyone go home and volunteered to stay behind and work on the finishing touches herself. Tomorrow the software was supposed to be deployed, and the expectation was that it would be bug free. It was a US corporation that had outsourced the critical part of this operation to their company after all.
Well, now that she had finished the finishing touches, she was entitled to some play time, something she would not have once she returned home to her husband and five year-old son. And her husband, Ashok… well, the less said about his sexual drive, the better.
There was no need for lube, she was already wet with anticipation, and the widest part of the dildo slipped in without any trouble. She clicked on the video, and it started streaming.
The scenario started playing. Usually this particular site did not believe in too much setup, and usually got into the action quickly, but some of the anticipation and fun was in the way the scene was actually set up, how the girl got into the situation, and Swati found that really exciting. Part of it was also that she delayed the onset of orgasm by getting into the scene, and as everyone knew, the more delayed the orgasm was, the sweeter it turned out to be. Not all the time, of course, but enough that it was worth it.
Slowly, lazily, she moved the dildo in and out, turning it a little, coating it in her juices getting it nice and ready for more furious action later. She gazed down at it in affection. She had bought it online, and had it delivered to her office address. Her home address would never do for several reasons, chief among which was that her son would intercept and open it.
The video played before her.
Four men entered the spooky bungalow where the heroine was supposedly taking shelter from a poorly faked storm. The bungalow was supposedly haunted and the four men were ghosts, only the heroine did not know that. The men converged on her and the woman, a really busty and scantily clad blonde, screamed initially, but soon began to sigh as her clothes were roughly ripped from her. Her thin tee shirt went first and then her short skirt.
Swati moved her left hand from the space bar to join her right, which was slowly pumping in and out of her inflamed cunt. She rubbed her fingers in the juices and then brought it to her nose. She sniffed deep. The odor of her own arousal was heady, musky and sweaty, it reminded her of a seashell she had found once. A conch. And what could be a more appropriate smell for something that even looked like a conch? She giggled at the analogy her mind had made.
One of the men, one of the two white guys, smacked the actress on her rounded rump repeatedly as it jiggled and started turning red. The Hispanic put a hand into her panties and started fingering her with rough movements.
The third man, a black guy, got behind her and started mauling her still partially clad breasts, although with the minuscule bra, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. The fourth, another white guy, peeled off his clothes and started rubbing his erect cock on her body and inserted a couple of fingers into her mouth. She sucked greedily as though his hand was a cock. She made gagging noises.
Swati switched on her vibrator and sighed in time with the bimbo on screen, like a synchronized Olympic fuck team. She inserted it deep and the curvy, larger part began to stimulate her G spot. Simultaneously the clit stimulator started strumming her clitoris. A small moan escaped her lips.
The actress was now down on her knees, sucking each of the now naked men in turn, a circle blow job. As she sucked each cock, the others fondled her tits, and fingered her pussy and ass as they reached individually and together between her widely spread thighs. Each man vied for her oral attentions as she slurped and sucked and gagged on the oversized members.
Swati had read they used injections and drugs to stay erect for long periods. And, she had read that they used girls called fluffers. These were usually wannabe porn actresses, perhaps the ones with pimples on their asses, rendering them poorly photogenic, so their job was to suck the male actors to make sure they stayed ‘upright standing citizens.’ She giggled again at the pun she had made. She briefly thought about the life of a fluffer and how she might like that.
The circle blow job went on and on. Really, she thought, was this a new director? So many porn-stars started directing or producing when they’d reached their sell by date. Then the scene faded to black.
Swati knew that big cocks like these men possessed existed only in porn, well, mostly she thought; she had no actual experience. She had fucked only one other man before Ashok, her husband, and neither of those encounters had been particularly thrilling.
And then she had stumbled onto hardcore porn, with overtones of bondage and submission and become hooked from the first story she read. It was an easy hop skip and jump form stories to videos, but she had to be careful.
A new scene started. The actress was now in full suspension, one of her favorite scenarios. Her arms were bound behind her and her legs separately suspended from the ceiling, widely spread apart of course. Tight jute rope circled her thighs and arms. For the first few seconds of the new scene, she swung freely in her bonds. Swati almost missed the padded box right under her ass.
Then the Hispanic guy got on the box and stuffed his cock into her ass. The blonde opened her mouth in a silent scream. Simulated of course, but Swati found it arousing anyway. The blonde’s breasts were bound too, and they stuck out like little round rockets. Silicone, of course, but Swati didn’t care. It looked sexy, raunchy, disgusting, and she loved it. Her own were real. She wondered how that would feel, having her tits bound and slapped.
She reached behind her and pulled her zipper down and pulled her neckline forward. She snaked her left hand inside and started rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb. She gasped as the nipple engorged with blood and stood at attention like a Gurkha guard.
On screen, the camera panned between the bimbo’s widely spread legs. A great visual of a cock stuffing her asshole and her cunt gaping slightly filled the screen. Swati stiffened slightly, anticipating the double penetration that was going to come. Any minute now.
Instead of someone stepping forward and ramming their hard-on into pussy, the big muscular black guy walked around and grabbed her head. She turned like an infant seeking its mother’s breast, mouth open, eyes close. She knew what was coming. The black guy thrust his soft-on into her mouth without ceremony.
“Suck that bitch, suck it,” he said.
A third man in the background said, “Tell us what you are, you filthy whore!”
In answer, the bimbo groaned, moaned and gagged as the black guy pushed deeper into her mouth and the hispanic below her thrust upward into her ass. Her inner labia flapped with the jerky motion.
Swati thought that particular scene was pretty good. The woman’s cunt had a loose look, like she’s been fucked a lot. The inner lips poked out, loose and flappy, looking like the wattle on a rooster. Clearly she hadn’t undergone a labio-plasty like many others in the industry.
The black guy started slapping her face with slow, deliberate wristy movements even as she sucked him with increasing enthusiasm. She made small muffled screams, moans, groans.
The black guy said, “Filthy cunt, dirty whore, worthless slut,” over and over like it was a mantra. The bimbo was loving it as she writhed on two cocks, one in her ass, one in her mouth.
Then the white guy stepped forward and started slapping her pussy with a device that looked like a flap of leather stuck at the end of a short stick. Swati had recently found out that it was called a flogger. With every stroke on her cunt, the blonde writhed and moved her hips. Swati wasn’t sure if she was trying to get away from the blows on her pussy or toward it. The white guy slowly masturbated himself with his free hand, keeping himself erect.
The scene shifted again, and this time the bimbo was air tight. Both her nether holes were stuffed tight with cock. Her glistening flesh was stretched out like a tight rubber gasket around them. Her head was turned to one side, and the black guy was ramming her mouth without mercy, using her face like a cunt.
The fourth guy, the other white guy now stepped forward from the shadows where he had presumably been getting CPR from the fluffer, and started aggressively assaulting the blonde’s tits. He pulled her nipples away from her body as though he were trying to pull them off.
Swati’s hands started moving with greater rapidity. It might have been an illusion since the vibrator had only one speed, but the vibrations seemed to speed up as well. Her left hand tweaked her nipples, back and forth, cupping, squeezing and kneading ferociously. She was close now.
The white guy kept slapping at the bimbo’s thighs, left, right, now left again, and repeating, “Tell us what you are, you filthy slut, tell us what you are!” Simultaneously, he pumped her cunt as deep as the shot would allow and still present good visuals. Swati giggled. The guy was a true multi-tasker. Maybe she could use him on her team.
The slut on screen wiggled her head from side to side as though trying to answer him, but the cock in her mouth would not let her move very far. Was she trying to answer the repeated questions or was she trying to get away or what? Swati didn’t care. The scene was uber raunchy.
The black cock pulled out of her mouth, and she gasped, “I’m a filthy whore, I’m a filthy slut! Fuck my holes, I’m a filthy slut!”
Swati’s moans had become more regular, almost keeping time with the white guy banging the blonde whore’s cunt.
The blonde screamed, “More cock! More cock!”
The guys started spanking her ass, tits, thighs, anyplace they could lay their hands on and the bimbo writhed in ecstasy as though she were loving the treatment. The black guy slapped her face back and forth, holding his enormous member with one hand.
Swati was lost in lust. Her mouth hung open as she furiously worked the vibrator into her cunt.
“Filthy fuck slut!” The black guy replaced the white guy between her open thighs and pushed in deep. His member was larger than the white guy’s and the whore opened her mouth and cried out. Incredibly, her hips started bucking like a horse trying to throw its rider off. She almost succeeded in dislodging the cocks in her. The guy in her cunt stepped back.
The camera zoomed into her pussy which was now twitching rhythmically as though it was being electrocuted.
Swati’s own orgasm swelled out like a firecracker from her clit. Waves of ecstasy rippled through her pelvis. She jammed the vibrator deep inside and started to come like she hadn’t for a very long time. A thin wail rose from her throat, rising to a crescendo as she stiffened, her entire body spasming around her center.
The lock to her office door made a loud click, and the door started to swing open.
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