Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Hello All, I am aware of the delays, but bear with me. I definitely intend to complete the story. I have some personal issues I am dealing with that don't allow me enough time to write and post. Thanks for your understanding. 

Also, the credit for the central idea in this episode goes to Pro10.


With that, Swati launches into her story. 


That evening, when she arrived at the chawl after texting Prakash she was coming over, she found him on the street, looking at a large cardboard box, smoking a cigarette. The butcher across the street had apparently purchased a large new freezer, and this was the box. The delivery men had been about to take it away for recycling when Prakash had seen some possibilities in the box and told them to leave it where it was. 

When she reached him, he openly fondled her breasts with the chawl people watching. Both men and women, although the ooh’s and aah’s were from the women. He stood in front of her and fondled with both hands, looking around with a goofy grin and a proprietorial look of one exhibiting his prize circus animal. 

Swati was used to this. 

It was part of the humiliation of being objectified, of being treated like no more than a possession. 

She had taken to doing her makeup differently than usual as though it was some kind of disguise, even though deep down she knew it was just a lie she told herself. Regardless, the truth was that this was such a different environment and she really had no idea what she was letting herself into.

Prakash and another guy carried the sturdy box to the back of the tenement and placed it over the concrete rectangle where a tap stuck out of the wall. This, she learned, was called the mori where all the residents of the place bathed, washed clothes, and did sundry other things that needed running water. Not that the water came all the time. There were timings for that, something that Swati could not even comprehend.

One corner of the box had been slit open lengthwise to remove the freezer, and this could now be used as a flap to enter and exit the box. It was a good-sized box, large enough for a couple of people to stand in, but the best thing about it was that once the flap was closed, and the top repositioned, it was almost entirely dark inside.

Prakash said, “I’m going to blindfold you and tie your hands behind your back, then put you in there and then send in guys one by one. You can see the guy or touch them. You have to suck cock and…maybe fuck him too if you want, but this is the game. You have to guess the guy’s age without touching any part of his body except his cock.”

A few men she knew stood outside the box, looking at it, hands stroking chins, wondering what was going on. Three other men from the chawl were there too, men she did not know, but they looked middle-aged, curious, and Swati judged probably married, but always horny for some new cunt to fuck. 

And she was in just the right place and time to give it to them. 

The idea Prakash was proposing sounded intriguing, but the obvious question came to her mind. 

“Malik, what happens if I am right, and what happens if I’m wrong?”

Prakash turned from surveying the box to her. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek like he might a pet dog. He turned her so he was behind her and dipped a hand into her kurta and scooped out a boob in full view of the men around them. 

Her breast hung obscenely, sticking out, constricted, and pushed up by the neckline of her kurta. Prakash absently pulled on her nipple, causing her to moan.

“Hmm. I have to think about it, but if you’re right, you’ll get a reward, and if you’re wrong, um…three times, you’ll be punished.”

Prakash rolled the nipple between forefinger and thumb, then pinched harder, pulling the nipple out and away from her body.

“Aaah! And what’s the reward and what’s the punishment?”

Prakash hadn’t thought this through.

“Punishment is you have to drink my pee. I will put my cock in your mouth and pee, and you have to swallow. That’s the punishment.” 

Prakash grinned widely. He was sure he had hit upon the best punishment he could devise at that moment. Later, he might rethink it, but for now, this was good. 

Swati’s heart sank. She had never indulged in piss play, golden showers, or whatever they were called although she had seen some websites that specialized in that. But there was no alternative. She wasn’t in a position to call the shots. Any attempt to protest would result in a beating or worse. 

But the idea of the box put her in mind of glory hole porn she had seen and sometimes wondered about. 

“I have a better idea,” Swati said, moaning and trying to twist away from his pinching hand.

“Better idea?” 

Prakash looked her uneven tits, one inside and the other hanging out, and shook his head at the asymmetry of things. He thrust his hand in and scooped out the other breast. Now both were exposed, riding high and squished together. Still from behind her, he rolled both nipples between thumb and forefinger, squeezing, pulling. 

The neckline of her kameez was stretched to the point of ripping. She felt the fabric give a little.

“Ye-ah, aaah! Umm, aah!” Swati was moaning like a bitch in heat. She was at the point that breast and nipple play alone could arouse her. Sometimes she could come with titty play alone. 

“Can we fuck her now?” 

It was one of the men around them who had been taking a keen interest in the conversation. He was middle-aged, with a gray beard, and wearing a sweater and lungi. 

Prakash waved him away.

“What better idea, bitch?”

“What if we make holes in the wall and the men can stick their dicks in? I can be inside and use my hands and mouth…or other parts to test their cocks and tell their age?” 

Swati was very excited about this new idea. Prakash had come up with the core of the plan, but it was her idea to make it a glory hole. It had been one of her fantasies, and it seemed to be coming together.

“Hmm,” said Prakash, hefting the weight of both breasts in his palms and softly jiggling them.

“Ufff!” It was the same man. “Can I touch?”

“Oh fuck off man, can’t you see I’m thinking here?” Prakash said. Then, seeing the crestfallen expression on the man’s face, he said, “Oh go on, play with her tits if you want.” 

He vacated his position behind her, allowing the guy to get into his spot. 

The man wasted no time in manhandling her tits, pulling and twisting and pawing. His hands were rough, workman hands, callused and abrasive. Swati felt the discomfort, but it was exactly this treatment that brought her to the chawl. She craved it like a heroin addict needs her fix. If needed, she would have crawled there, just for this kind of treatment. 

She leaned back against the man and moaned loudly.

“Oh wow, this is some kind of whore you got here, Prakash Bhai,” the man said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Prakash said. “I think your hole idea is good.” Then he turned to the men around him, by now there were seven of them. “You guys aren’t shy or anything, are you?”

There was a chorus of men saying no. One more man stepped in front of Swati and took control of one boob. 

“So heavy and beautiful!” 

Two more men came closer and started to paw at her breasts. 

The first man behind her protested but the others shut him up. “It’s not like she’s your maal! She belongs to Prakash Bhai. If he says it’s okay, it’s for all of us to share,” he said. “Isn’t it Prakash Bhai?”

Prakash nodded absently and walked around the box, trying to understand the logistics of what his bitch had just told him. Finally, he said, “Sure, yeah. We can make four holes, one in each wall and we can have four men around at a time. That should be good enough for the whore.”

By now, one of the men had found the string that held her salwar up and loosened it. She was in danger of being stripped naked right there on the street. Expect it wasn’t exactly the street but rather the narrow lane behind the house. 

Her salwar fell to her feet, puddling around her ankles, and someone, probably the guy behind her, pulled her kurta up until it covered her face. He left it there, trapping both her arms, but not before he had worked her boobs out of the clothes. 

There was the matter of the bra, but it wasn’t covering anything anyway, and soon that too was unclasped and hung limply over her stomach. 

She wasn’t wearing panties—no sense wearing them because they usually disappeared at the end of these sessions. 

When her lack of panties was revealed, there was a gasp among the men.

“She doesn’t wear a chaddi!” said one of the men.

“Naked under the salwar!”

“What a whore!”

Another said, “Best to get laid, the slut that she is.”

“Yes, yes,” a couple of the other men agreed.

She couldn’t see any of them because of the kameez covering her face, but she shivered with anticipation and sheer delicious depravity of the situation. 

Swati stood in the narrow lane, surrounded by men she did not know, all low class and smelly and making crude statements, mostly about her body parts, her lack of morals, and what a whore she must be if she was doing this. 

Hands roamed all around her body. Her legs were jerked apart and fingers were inserted into her holes, first her cunt, but later, more boldly, into her ass too. 

She was lubricating furiously, already on the cusp of her first orgasm, effectively blindfolded and arms constrained. 

Any minute she would be fucked in all her holes in the middle of the chawl. 

Probably standing up, one of her favorite positions. 

All her previous episodes had been in either Prakash’s room or that one time in Mahender’s room. 

She heard Prakash say, “Cut it out, guys. Go away now and come back in fifteen minutes. We’re going to play a game, and I’ll call you when I’m ready.”