Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Swati is groggy, her vision swims, and she can barely focus on what is going on around her. 

She is aware she is being fucked in the ass. 

Wait, there’s someone in her pussy too. 

There’s a man below her and one behind her, but she has no idea who they are. 

She isn’t having an orgasm, but seems to be on the edge of one for a really long time. 

She strains to come, and adjusts the angles of thrust, but remains on the edge. 

She moves enthusiastically for a few minutes, and the men grunt their appreciation. There are moans and more grunts, and she realizes after a moment they are coming from her. The orgasm hits her suddenly and she is spasming and convulsing on two cocks. The orgasm goes on for a long time.


Her vision grows black at the edges and she goes away for a bit. 

When she next awakens, she is on the ground, on her side. 

Someone, Prakash is trying to feed her something. 

A banana. 

She recognizes the smell and the mushy texture.

Ten petis, she remembers. 

What are ten petis? 

She remembers all the Bollywood movies where they mention that term. 

Oh yes, that’s a lakh, so ten lakhs. Wait, is it a lakh or a crore? No, crore is called khokha, not peti. 

It seems an unreasonably small amount for her. She is to be sold, and that too for ten lakhs, and it seems absurdly low. 

Why, she knows what she looks like, and she should be worth crores. 

But wait, why must she be sold? 

Is it because she has become a whore? 

Where is Vicky, her pimp. She is having a hard time keeping fantasy, dream and reality separate. 

She is a whore, right? 

Why else is she in this room, getting fucked in all her holes? 

Wasn’t she a software engineer? 

Or was that a dream? 

And also she had a son. And a husband. Were those dreams or fantasies as well? 

Ashok, she remembers. That's her husband. He's in the hospital isn't he?

The Chinese virus. Her in-laws were dead, and Ashok was fighting for his life. And Arvind? She can't remember what his status is. 

She struggles upright. 

The room swims and she sees a white man sitting in a chair with a green screen behind him. Who is he? 

Wait. She remembers. 

He’s no white man. He just has that skin condition. 

She struggles to remember the name of the condition. It seems suddenly important, but the name refuses to come.

There is a crash. 

The trap door in the room’s floor creaks open and a large man comes through. 

She blinks. 

She doesn’t recognize the man.

There’s a dog in the room. 

A big fucking black dog. 

And look how cute—he has pink socks on!

She giggles at the sight.