Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Several minutes pass. 

Prakash walks around the conference room, naked from the waist down, trying to get his cock to stiffen up. His pants and boxes lie in a heap near the chair he sat in, much like her clothes on that fateful day so long ago. 


Ramesh still sits in his chair as though shell shocked. She wonders at what he is thinking, but Prakash is taking up all her bandwidth for the moment. 

Swati is on the floor, her legs folded up underneath her. She wonders what is coming next. Can she leave? When will this nightmare be over? 

A part of her wants to be taken roughly and fucked like a whore. Another part is warring with running away. She wants to assert herself. It is getting late and she needs to go home, look after her son. Perhaps her husband is back by now? When will he get it up and fuck her properly? Her thoughts are chaotic, random, chasing each other. 

Then Prakash gets in front of her. He raises his hand and slaps her. Deliberately, left, then backhand on the right. Swati’s hands fly to her cheeks, and he shoots her a warning stare. A death stare. 

Swati puts her hands down. This isn’t quite as exciting as the ass spanking, but she decides she will go through with it. Tolerate it for now.

She realizes that she hasn’t touched this man yet. Well, nothing except his cock. There is no intimacy here, no skin on skin body contact like in conventional lovemaking. But this is no lovemaking. This is sex in its most primal form. The taking of a woman for the pleasure of a man. And somehow, the thought doesn’t repel her like it normally would. In fact, it excites her, if  the reactions of her body are any indication. 

“Suck,” he commands, “make me hard again. Then I’ll fuck you.”

It irritates her, this command, but also thrills her. Finally, she will be fucked, penetrated, used, she thinks. It has been long in the coming.

“You need to be fucked, yes?”

Of course, she wants to remain silent, not let him have his victory, but her head goes up and down without her consent, saying yes to what he says. 

He laughs his hyena laugh, at once victorious and demeaning, and crooks a finger at her. Come on, get to work the finger says.

She scoots forward and separates his thighs and bends to the task. 

She is on her haunches, knees spread, tits hanging, so he can have anything he wishes, but he simply sits in the chair. The odor is almost gone now. She has done a pretty good job last time cleaning him, laving him with her tongue—inadvertently, but she has done it nevertheless. 

She takes his flaccid member in her mouth and starts over. At least this time the goal is not a full blow job, just to get him hard enough to fuck her. She isn’t sure if she liked the breath play when Prakash was skull-fucking her without any regard to whether or not she could breathe. He was singularly focused on his own release. He probably didn’t care if she choked to death. 

#

Inder looks at his monitor, a little disconcerted. His hero is failing. 

He has watched with great interest the way Prakash has handled the bitch. The blowjob, if it could be called that, was brutal, and great. Not so much a blowjob as a brutal skull-fucking, but it had started off tamely enough. He was amazed at the way Prakash grabbed her head and ponytail, and just used her mouth like a masturbation sleeve. Brutal, that’s the right word for it, nothing else would do. 

He has raised the volume on the feed, and still he can’t hear very well, although he has to admit that the choking and gagging sounds came through quite well. 

His Incel friends, all faceless and anonymous have no further advice. No further advice other than to reiterate what they’ve already said. Fuck her, fuck her up and so on. It is getting repetitive, boring, and Inder logs off the chat box. 

His thoughts are awhirl. He has too many ideas right now, all fighting with each other, like the characters in a MMOG that he plays often. There is a porn version too, but Inder isn’t playing that these days. 

He thinks the festivities for the day are over. 

Perhaps, he thinks, he can go over now and confront Ramesh and Prakash, and the woman as well and perhaps, just perhaps, get his rocks off too? Maybe just get her to suck him off? The thought makes him suck his gut in. 

Then he thinks, nah, not today. He wants to see how this develops over the next few days and in the meantime he will do some more research. Try and find out more about the woman, see if she has a husband, kids and things like that. She looks like the type that will have a family. Inder is an astute observer of humans if he is anything. He hasn’t had much interaction though, but that might change in the future. 

The very near future. He rubs his hands and reaches for the chocolate.