Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

It is almost five in the evening and already getting dark when Prakash puts his glass of cheap country liquor down with a crash. 

He and Nawaz have been drinking and brainstorming, and Prakash says the best way is to go to the bitch’s house and find out. If she isn’t home, perhaps there might be a caretaker or guard or maybe a main that would let them know when madam is returning. The bitch is after all not returning his calls. He is tempted to actually call her, but holds off.


“Let’s go,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” Nawaz looks uncertain, perhaps a little worried. 

Prakash can see the dilemma pulling him in two directions. On the one hand he isn’t sure if he want to go to a posh locality and confront a high class lady like Swati. He has seen pictures of her and her slutty behavior, but he hasn’t actually met her. On the other hand, there is Nakul Bhai and the man is dangerous. 

He is aware that there are more powerful men behind Nakul Bhai, but he doesn’t know who. 

“Only one way to find out.”

Ramesh isn’t at the chawl today. Earlier he’d said he would go to the akhada and work out with the pehelwans, and hasn’t been seen since. Anyhow, good riddance, Prakash thinks. The man doesn’t even drink alcohol anymore. He just broods and smokes.

“What if she isn’t home?” Nawaz’s voice is a little shrill, reeking of desperation. 

“We’ll figure it out when we get to that point.” Prakash tries to look more confident than he feels. One of them has to take charge. But doubts assail him. 

What if the bitch is indeed not home? And what if there’s no one around to ask.

“Prakash bhai, you know the address, right?”

This is another stumbling block Prakash hasn’t contended with. He sits back down heavily and pours himself another glass. He picks up a few peanuts and chews them meditatively. He takes a deep drink of his liquor, makes a face. 

Then he snaps him fingers and picks up his phone.

“Inder bhai?”

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s me, Prakash.”

“What do you want, fucker?” Inder’s voice is a snarl.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking of having a party with a few friends.”

“Oh?” Inder sounds interested, hopeful even.

“Yeah…I was wondering if the bitch might want to participate…so I was going to go get her.”

Prakash hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t planned to invite Inder, but he had no choice. The fat IT man was the only one who had her address.

“What should I bring?”

Prakash has a ready answer for that. “Chocolates? And some English booze?”

Inder looked the type to drink foreign liquor. He still thought of it as foreign liquor, even though he knew some if not most of it was manufactured in India. Some in Haryana and even his own state, Uttar Pradesh.

“Done,” Inder says. Prakash hears computer keys clacking, and then Inder reads out an address.

“I’ll come to your place directly,” Inder says. He doesn’t question whether Prakash is sure Swati is home or not. Prakash thinks there is some way he knows where she is, but he has no way to be sure. Perhaps he tracks her phone. He has heard there are ways such things might be done, but of course has neither the education nor smarts to know.

Nawaz is staring at him open-mouthed.

Prakash hangs up and says, “That’s how it’s done. Hang with me, baby, and there’s no end to the stuff you’ll see.” He says “baby” in English. Then he winks elaborately.

They arrive at the big house just as it is getting dark. It is a standalone house, and the one thing it screams is “money.” And lots of it. 

Prakash is a little intimidated by the wrought iron gate, but there is no gatekeeper and the door too isn’t locked. With trepidation, he unbolts the small door set inside the large gate, making certain that his companions don’t see his nervousness. 

Once inside, he ascends the marble stairs and approaches the front door. He hesitates before he rings the bell. He turns around to look at Paro and Nawaz. 

After they got in the auto, Nawaz had detoured past the whorehouse and picked up Paro.  “She would be good to have along on the trip,” he explained. Prakash hadn’t understood the rationale, but went along with it. 

And now, here there were. 

Prakash hasn’t seen the bitch, as he thinks of her in his head, for about a week, and he wonders if things have changed in that interval. Nah, he decides, the whore is probably just being lazy, ignoring his message. He will teach her a lesson, slap her around, fuck her ass hard, and she would be fine. 

He presses the bell. 

Ding dong, it goes.

Ding dong, he thinks. These rich fuckers. Ding dong indeed. 

Then, as an afterthought, he pushes Paro in front of the peephole set into the door, Nawaz by her side, hanging on to her arm possessively.