Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original 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.