Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Nakul Bhai has the whore suck him off while he watches a video of Swati getting gangbanged. It’s an old video, one of Mahender’s earlier efforts. She is airtight, a cock in each hole, one man straddling her torso and fucking her tits, and there is a cock in each of her hands that she is jerking off. 


He knows it is disrespectful to the girl who’s fellating him, to watch another woman, or rather some hardcore porn, but fuck it, she’s only a whore.

When he’s done, she wipes the saliva and semen that coat his cock. His member is still quite hard, something that has happened over time with all the beads that have been injected under the skin. 

He can get ready at a moment’s notice, and sometimes even the sensation of his underwear rubbing against the sensitive flesh can arouse him unreasonably. Sometimes he thinks this obsession with sex might be getting in the way of his business, but so far so good, and besides, sex is so enjoyable, especially the kinks. 

And once he has Swati in his clutches…he thinks about the girl. She is in great demand it seems. Alexei wants to grab her and sell her in the Gulf, probably the Gulf, but could be Africa too. Not for nothing is it called the dark continent. Once you went there, you were never heard from again.

Then there was Alexei’s man, Arvind. He seemed to have his own agenda. 

Nakul Bhai has done some investigation, and it seemed that they might be related. Some kind of revenge scenario, he thinks. He’s not sure what Arvind plans to do to the woman, but he thinks it’s sex and then probably sell her to someone. He seemed to be quite desperate to get his hands on her. 

And then finally there was himself, Ramsaran, also known as Nikolai and also, more recently as Nakul Bhai. He rather likes the name now, and sometimes uses it to introduce himself, particularly when the other person isn’t able to say Nikolai correctly. 

It was he, Nikolai, who had initially called Alexei to sell the hot piece of ass, but then he’d changed his mind. Then Arvind had come along with his ridiculous offer and now that Alexei was out of the country, he feels he has more leeway. Arvind hasn’t even called him to tell him the deal was off. He has found all this out through Sammy. The little shit. He could get Sammy to take care of Arvind, Alexei too when he returned. And then, he thinks, Sammy…Sammy. Hmm.

Things were looking up. Way, way up. He has come a long way. 

He’d been a freak in his village, the only man with the unknown skin disease, and pretty much everyone shunned him, the fear of the unknown being what it was, especially among illiterate villagers. He forgets what they called it in Hindi, but he wasn’t all white back then. Patchy, his arms and legs still had some dark brown colored areas, but by the time he was eighteen, even his hair had turned a colorless white. 

The only way he could gain some respect was through a life of crime, and accordingly, he attached himself to the local crime boss, who took him on out of pity. 

It was only when he ended up in Bombay and met a few foreigners around the gateway of India that he hit upon the idea of passing himself off as a white man. There wasn’t much he could do about his face, which still looked like a villagers’ but he copied the white peoples’ gestures, mannerisms and their patterns of speech. Realizing soon that he would never speak English like a Brit or an American, he decided to be a Russian, so that his accent might be overlooked. 

When he was sent to Delhi on an assignment, he ran into some trouble when the businessman he was supposed to shoot turned out to be more than he could handle. His gun, an automatic, jammed, and the businessman, with hard gym honed muscles, beat him senseless. 

He was nursed back to health by a gang of human traffickers, and he had the good sense to be quiet or speak only in English, and thus the legend of Nikolai was born. 

He shakes his head. Enough reminiscing. Okay, he says to himself. He rises and goes to his bedroom, opens the safe and pulls out a shiny revolver. He always prefers revolvers to semi-automatics. Ever since the businessman incident, way back when, a time he cannot even remember well. 

Most of his men prefer the autos, and he allows them to choose. But the one thing he insists on is that they are at least 45 caliber. That’s pretty good stopping power for most situations. 

He has used 9 mm guns before, but he definitely favors the heft and finality of the 45. This one is a Smith and Wesson, large and comfortable and heavy. 

He jams it into this waistband in the back, pulls on a light jacket and calls for the driver. He will take two bodyguards and the woman. 

He snaps his fingers at the whore, a Brazilian or Argentinian perhaps, or so he believes. She is enhanced, but spectacular. So spectacular that he keeps her naked all the time. 

She doesn't seem to mind. And she is very accommodating.